PSL: Sentinel AU
Danny is Steve's guide. He is still pretty new at it and working with a Sentinel who has some bad experiences. To top if off, while working a case in Portland he finds out that a guide can have more than one Sentinel who is their perfect match.
no subject
"Hey, listen. It's me, Danny. You're safe, you're in your resturant, we were just talking. Easy now. Calm. Focus on me, on my voice. Breathe for me. They are not going to get you, I got you." He continues talking like that, and focuses on following his own advise and breathe more slowly. The grip makes it so he can't exactly relax, his body all tense under Eliot but he does what he can. "Easy easy easy. It was my fault. You're safe. Nobody is coming after you"
no subject
He's still trembling, so faintly it's only perceptible by touch, every muscle in his body literally vibrating with tension, but his grip on Danny eases minutely and he drops his head a little, enough to just barely rest it on the smaller man's shoulder. There's no immediate threat, and Danny's breathing and heart rate stay steady, his scent shifting away from fear, and even through the blank haze muffling almost everything else Eliot can feel his calm concern. It's warm and grounding, and even though he can't make out the words at first the sound of his voice is soothing.
Slowly his grip relaxes, until he's less pinning Danny to the wall and more leaning against his back as his panicked gasps slowly ease into a more normal rhythm, and even more slowly sync up with Danny's again. It's not until long after that that the words start to make sense as anything other than soothing white noise, and a few minutes longer, even, before Eliot's settled enough to register where he is or in what position, and then he pushes unsteadily away, staggering a little as he backs off.
"Maybe-" His voice comes out a hoarse croak and he has to stop and swallow hard, licking his lips before trying again. "Maybe you should go," he manages this time. It's still rough, but it's a lot closer to normal... and one of the hardest damn things he's ever said. "I ain't gonna turn you or yours in, no one deserves that shit. But you breathe a word about me t'anyone an' I swear t'god I'll-" He stops, words cutting off abruptly, because he can't even make the threat and it's terrifying. "Just don't. I'll know the second you breathe a word, so don't."
no subject
"I am going to go pick up my gun and phone. Alright?" Because considering how Eliot's acted until now. It is best to warn him about something like that. He checks that the gun is alright, before he slides it back into his holster and picks up the badge and phone, stashing them in his pockets. "If you need to talk, I am staying at the hotel half a mile up the road." Not that he is there much. It is a shitty place, but at least it is a bed.
no subject
"Don't put it back together 'til you're well aware from here," Eliot snaps, watching warily--hungrily--as Danny picks it up, along with his badge and phone. He takes another step back and scrubs his hands over his face, then back up into his hair, setting it up in spiky disarray before dropping them. His chest feels like it's being split open, and he has to work not to rub anxiously at his breastbone, at the phantom pain blooming under it. This pain is better than getting fucked over by another Guide, though, or at least that's what he tells himself.
"I don't need anything," he answers, and it's almost mechanical now, his voice inflectionless and his gaze blank as he methodically focuses on his breathing heart rate and forces them into a rhythm that doesn't sync with Danny's. He's been fine on his own all this time, he's not about to let that change now.
no subject
no subject