I’m writing a little doc where all three of them live together and it’s only been that Steve sleeps with both of them at this point. But he goes away on mandatory training or something, and Freddie doesn’t like sleeping alone so he convinces Danno to let him stay. And then BOOM Freddo happens and they’re not sure what to tell Steve. But when he comes home and they tell him…
“Wait, you slept together? Like had sex?”
“We’re sorry,” Danno sighs, “you were away we both missed you.”
“Don’t be mad. We won’t do it again if…”
“This is awesome!” Steve beams, “does this mean I don’t have to sleep in different rooms every other night? We can get one big bed!”
Freddie’s new hobby seems to come completely out of left field, if you ask Steve. Danny had found an old 35mm camera in the attic while he was looking for Christmas decorations one year, and it had just spiraled from there.
He started by snapping pictures of plants, the ocean, random animals in the yard, and then it had evolved into taking candid pictures of his family, even convincing Steve to build him a dark room in part of the garage.
On the mantel, there is a shot of Steve in the kitchen one Sunday morning, his board shorts hanging on his hips (which were swaying along to some dopey song on the old record player they’d unearthed) and a whisk in his hand. Charlie and Lil Hart were beside him, both of their feet firmly planted on chairs so they could help throw chocolate chips into the pancake batter.
Hanging on the wall is the black and white hues of Christmas morning, all the kids sitting cross-legged on the hardwood with sleep-bleary eyes and bed head accompanying their excited smiles at the mountain of gifts under the large tree. Danny had griped when Steve and Freddie had returned from the store with Steve’s truck bed nearly packed with toys and boxes, but in the photograph, he had a warm smile hiding behind his mug of coffee and he was shooting Freddie a wink through the lens that warmed his chest so fast he’d gotten light headed.
Of course there are also pictures of each one of their children playing their respective sports on the “Wall of Fame” as Steve likes to call it. Nahele in his football uniform, helmet tucked under his arm. Grace with a softball bat resting on her shoulder, hand planted on her hip. Lil Hart and Charlie with their arms around each other’s shoulders in their soccer uniforms with oranges clamped in their teeth to look like smiles. Danny had even jokingly put up a picture of Steve and Freddie bobbing on their surf boards, waiting for a wave. Only, of course, after Freddie put up the picture of Danny in his “alumni game” uniform from the game his high school had invited him to play back in Jersey (Steve and Freddie had both enthusiastically shown him how good they thought he looked in those baseball pants…).
There was shot on their night stand which had been a pure luck shot. Freddie had held the camera out at arms length, squishing his way in between Steve and Danny, and yelling “say cheese!”. It had come out great, both of the other men having decided simultaneously to plant a kiss on either of his cheeks, leaving a bright smile on his face thanks to the loves of his life.
There were other scattered shots covering all of the walls; the kids’ first Christmas visit to Jersey where they’d had a rather epic snowball fight. Their first visit to Freddie’s parents’ house where they’d all gotten to ride horses through the trails, leaving them all chattering excitedly about it for days (he’d even convince Danny and Steve to try on cowboy hats. Best night of his life). School plays, chorus concerts, sporting events, birthdays. He’d taken enough pictures to rival a gallery. Steve started calling him the family photographer, he’d even suggest expanding into a film maker while the kids where away at camp, (“no, Steven, we aren’t making a sex tape….well. Maybe.”).
His favorite is a shot of Danny and Steve still sleeping one rainy morning. Just enough light had filtered in through the blinds with each clash of thunder and flash of lightning that he’d had to swipe the camera, positioning himself on his knees near the foot of the bed, and snapped it. He couldn’t think of many things in the world more beautiful than the sheets slung across Danny’s waist, just above his hips, and Steve sprawled out on his stomach, one tattooed arm across Danny’s chest and the other spread toward where Freddie had been, fingers flexing against the sheets, searching for him. That one he kept as a small print in his wallet to remind himself of these beautiful men who’d accepted him into their home and given him this perfect family.
Okay, so I’m trying to finish up my Triad Verse Danny/Freddie/Steve fic, and I’m writing Steve and Freddie as the two who get together first (the primer couple). I’ve got Steve talking to Freddie on the phone, and it’s this endearing mixture of frat buddies with a tiny bit of that long-term-relationship mundane romantic shorthand that’s specific to them and I LOVE IT (and so does Danny…)