Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of this work of fiction, and no profit, monetary or otherwise, is being made through the writing of this.

A/N: I have been wanting to write for a very long time, but work (reading/grading/editing student papers can be mind-numbing, and then tutoring on the side can be exhausting, too) has not made it possible. I am hoping to reclaim weekends...for writing. This was inspired by the NaNoWriMo YouTube double your words, double donation, post today. Two word sprints - one was prompted with, First and/or last times, and the other was prompted with having a character make a bad decision. I hope this makes sense...and is enjoyable.

The first time that they kissed, it ended in a fist fight.

A group of knuckle-dragging idiots decided to jump them in the parking lot. Complete with knives, baseball bats, and Danny thought that one of the guys even had a pair of tweezers that he attempted to jab into Danny's left ear.

When they're not fighting with each other (it's called banter, okay, and it's more like brotherly rough-housing, not fighting) they make a pretty damn good team. The idiots never stood a chance against them. Danny may, or may not have, cried out something about him and Steve being the dynamic duo while throwing a punch at one of the beer bellied men,and knocking the man on his ass.

It was invigorating, in a way. Steve went home with a split lip and a black eye that a slab of frozen tuna had done wonders for, much to Danny's dismay. Steak, after all, was the traditional course of treatment for a black eye. A manly meat for a manly man. At least as far as Danny was concerned. Steve had said that tuna (chicken of the sea) was manly, too.

The knuckles of Danny's left hand were bruised, one of his ribs was cracked, and he had a gouge high on his right cheek, just below his eye, from some yokel with a big ass ring. Damn thing was gaudy, and the man, and his ignorant goon friends, were stupid, and the whole fucking night - other than the kiss (which was perfect, if far too brief, and chaste) - was stupid.

The second time they kissed, there were explosions.

Not the good kind of explosions either (at least not the kind of explosions that Danny appreciated, Steve had probably enjoyed them to a certain degree).

They were genuine, guaranteed to end your life ten times over, kind of explosions that were designed to take out several warehouses, and of course, because where the hell else would they be, Danny and Steve were in the middle of the whole fucking thing, debris and fire raining down on their heads like the fireworks that should have been going on behind closed eyes.

Not that Danny's a romantic or anything...except for the fact that he is a romantic. Danny wouldn't put it past Steve to consider explosives, and everything about them, a romantic bouquet of sounds and smells, as well as colors.

The third time they kissed, Danny almost drowned.

There was a chase, across a wharf. Somehow Danny ended up in the water, and he'd hit his head - apparently, (he has no memory of the event, because he'd also gotten a concussion, courtesy of some idiot gunrunner) - on the edge of the dock, went under, almost drowned, was rescued, like a fucking princess, by none other than Super SEAL Steve.

Of course.

And no, Danny doesn't count the mouth-to-mouth resuscitation that Steve allegedly (Danny is not prepared to give credence to Steve's claims that he'd given him the breath of life without proof) performed on him before the paramedics arrived, as a fourth kiss, no matter how much Steve claims that, after Danny expelled water from his lungs, and breathed, they kissed.

No memory.

No kiss.

Their kisses should be memorable, if nothing else. Especially if all of their kisses end up like this, with explosions of the non-firework variety.

The fourth time they kissed, a bank was (almost) robbed.

They'd waited in line - a really long, boring, kids wailing, parents swearing kind of line - for what felt like hours, because Steve needed to cash a check. The gun wielding masked assholes barged into the bank just as Steve stepped up to the teller's window, of course, because it's their luck after all, and of course they can't catch a break.

And, well, Danny can't exactly stop himself from stating the obvious to the three and a half (Danny doesn't count the fifteen year old kid as a whole bank robber; his hands were shaking the whole time, and there were great pools of sweat beneath his armpits, soaking through his shirt, and he looked like he was about to wet himself the whole fucking time) idiots who decided that they were going to try to rob the bank that the head of Five-0 frequents.

One thing, as it often does, lead to another, and well, seven hours later, Danny was being wheeled out of the bank on a gurney, an anxious, thin lipped, Steve by his side, holding his hand as the paramedics whisked him away, and the bank robber wannabes were all being hauled off to jail.

It was little more than a scratch (that required seventeen stitches, and, because it had gotten infected he'd had to take antibiotics...so, mostly just a scratch).

Okay, so maybe Danny shouldn't have told the lead bank robber that he was a fucking moron, and maybe he should have kept some of his other choice words to himself as well, but they'd been waiting a really long time, and some kid had been wailing almost non-stop (Danny hoped that his mother got him the ice cream he'd been crying for), and Steve never did get to cash his check.

The fifth time they kissed...it was kind of perfect.

In a nonviolent brawl, explosion-less (Danny did see fireworks, but that's only because Waikiki has a fireworks show every Friday night), no near death experience, no being held against their will kind of way.

Which, for them, is kind of amazing.

Perfect in the way that Steve placed his hands on the small of Danny's back, tilted his head just so, and just kind of melded his body to Danny's.

Perfect in the way that Danny cupped Steve's ass, and squeezed, and teased Steve's tongue into his mouth.

Perfect.