#with daniel

He smiled--he did look cute, with his hair in a bun, only slightly disheveled, a white and purple golf shirt, khakis and Nike sneakers. You weren’t sure if seeing Sporty Danny would ever be an alter ego you’d get entirely used to, but you liked it. It was such a different look from his usual jeans and t-shirts, thick knit sweaters and beat up Keds. 

“I can’t consider myself a pro until I teach you properly,” he said and moved over to you, letting his golf club fall to the grass. “So show me again.”

You sighed a little and got back into the stance he’d tried to teach you--feet apart, legs straight, back only slightly sloping with your shoulders doing most of the work as you held the club straight down like an arrow. 

“You just look so tense,” Danny noted, standing next to you and crossing his arms.

“I mean, I feel tense,” you replied, then shook out your left arm, trying to loosen your muscles. “This is so much pressure for put-put.”

“I don’t have to teach you if you don’t want.”

You smiled to yourself. “No, no, I wanna learn,” you insisted. “But if I win, you’re paying for ice cream.”

He smiled back, chuckling. “Okay, that’s fair.” He moved behind you then, pressing himself gently against your backside and reaching in front of you, clasping his right hand onto your forearm. “So go back to holding the club.”

You did, although you were hyper-aware of his body behind yours, how you could already feel how firm his muscles were even without him really touching you. His hand, you’d touched before--accidentally (sometimes purposefully) brushing fingers, grabbing onto it during a scary movie, or how warm his hands always felt when he wrapped his arms around you during a hug--but it wrapped around your forearm felt different somehow.

Sweat broke through your hairline when Danny got in even closer and moved his hand down to your wrist, guiding your own grasp on the club. 

“Is this better?” you asked, voice cracking a bit. You’d never been nervous around Danny before--what was there to be nervous about?--but him in a mildly authoritarian state, all professional and completely focused--and focused on you alone--was really sexy. 

“Better,” he affirmed, his left hand holding your left bicep. “But you’re still really tense.”

“I’m just not used to being in this position,” you said, squinting and shaking your head a little at yourself after you realized the innuendo.

Danny laughed, though. “I promise if you stay in this position, you’ll get it in the hole.”

You couldn’t help it--you cackled, throwing your head back so your own hair got in Danny’s face. “I’m sorry, Danny,” you managed to say, turning around, still laughing and covering your mouth with your hand. “That was too perfect.”

It took him a second but then he laughed too, a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeez, Y/N, I’m sorry. I did not realize how that sounded.”

Danny stayed away from your backside after that but him checking you out as you bent down to retrieve your club at one point didn’t go unnoticed, or how he watched you so intently while you tapped the golf ball as you went along the little course. Still, you were doing the same, watching how he positioned himself and how his body moved, the facial expressions he made as the ball rolled and the look of victory when he got it in.

“I think I need help with this one,” you said at the last hole, looking at the inclined ramp in front of you. After the tiny bit of verbal foreplay and ogling each other, you wanted Danny’s body pressed against yours again. “It’s gonna be tricky.”

He raised his eyebrows but got behind you nonetheless, flattening his body against yours, your hips flush. “It’s like I showed you,” he said gently, guiding your hands over the club, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Same deal. Ready yourself, look to where you’re going, and don’t use too much pressure when you swing.”

“Don’t use too much pressure?” you pondered, grinning. “Huh.”

Danny stayed against you as you hit the golf ball and excitement bubbled in you as you watched it glide up the ramp, then into the hole. You pressed your club down into the grass, straightening yourself up and smiling victoriously.

“Nice game, Y/N,” Danny said, creating some space between the two of you and extending his gloved hand. 

You shook it. “Nice game, Danny. Thanks for the lessons,” you said. “Although I really feel like I’ll need more help if I’m ever gonna beat you on a real course.”

“My lessons aren’t cheap,” he joked.

“Oh?” you replied, raising your eyebrows. “What do you charge?”

He looked as though he were trying to come up with something to say, something to keep your repartee going, but then Danny looked up at you and caressed the side of your face with his hand, and before you could blink his lips were on yours.

With the club still in your hand, you reached your other up to mimic his actions, cupping his jaw as you leaned into him, his lips gentle, soft and a little hesitant. You parted your lips slightly and he did the same, the two of you agreeing upon a long, full kiss that you weren’t too keen on ever ending.

“I’ll take that as my payment today,” Danny said when he pulled back, his hand lingering on your cheek. “If that’s okay.”

Your cheeks were warm and your heart had beaten far more during the kiss than it had during the excitement of your competition. “I think that’s fair,” you said, dropping the club and placing your hands on his shoulders. “You still have to buy ice cream, though.”

He laughed. “What about a trade?”

You nodded. “A trade is good,” you agreed. You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, and kissed him, you taking the lead this time. 

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