dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

It had been good having Steve visit for the weekend and after he'd dropped Steve off at the airport Danny found himself missing Hawaii even more. He didn't even think that was possible. At least he is heading back next weekend to see Grace. He is looking forward to that since he came here. Seeing Steve and the rest of the team will be good too, but Grace is the main focus.

Sunday evening he'd looked over the leads again, the calls and something had stood out. It might be nothing but he was pretty sure there was a meeting going down early the next morning. So early you could argue that it was still night. He made a few calls, checking up how legit it was and it all pointed towards a solid lead.

So here he is, waiting outside the warehouse in question. The docs were quiet. In the distance he could hear the sound of a ship unloading cargo, but this part of the docks seemed mostly populated by seagulls. He'd hoped he would be getting some good surveilance, maybe some idea of who the other major players were, but when he sees a hooded and bound person being dragged out of a car all the plans change.

That is not good. Not good at all. He pulls out his phone and calls it in. But he knows he can't wait. The moment the bad guys hears the sirens that person is as good as dead. He needs to get in and get them out, now.

He studies the building for a second, what would Steve do? That is a stupid question, go in guns blazing. He is on his own, he can't do that. Instead he circles around the wearhouse hoping for a back door. As it happens, today is Danny's lucky day and he finds one, unlocked even, and he makes his way quietly inside.

Danny frowns when he gets a look at the group inside. They seemed to be closing up a crate, but there were only tree bad guys and no hooded figure. He had counted four bad guys going in.

That is when the cold metal of a gun presses against the back of Danny's neck and he curses silently. His gun is taken from him and the last bad guy pushes Danny into the clearing with the other three.

"'Ey, found a cop." The guy informs the others, gun still aimed at Danny.
"Better get rid of him. Can't have him squealing." One of the others grabs Danny's gun and aims it straight at Danny's head.

Eliot had stayed mostly away over the weekend, though only mostly. He'd checked the hotel perimeter a couple times, made sure there was no sign of the assholes Danny was going after... and he might have had Hardison hack into the computer system and security cameras, which is why he knows to be out here trailing Danny at the asscrack of dawn.

He stays far enough back there's no threat the Guide will sense his presence, carefully extending his senses to keep tabs on Danny as well as the thugs he's stalking. Which means he hears the the call for back-up, and he's already moving when he hears Danny head in without bothering to wait for it to arrive. He's too far away to keep things from going to shit, though, to do anything but run faster when he hears the uptick in Danny's pulse, the sound of some asshole saying they should get rid of him... it's almost enough to white him out with rage. Almost, but not quite.

He's got too many years of experience under his belt, learning to think through the flooding rush of too much input trying to overwhelm him, keeping his shit together through nothing but bloody-minded determination when his brain just wants to spin wildly out of control. So he's still fucking thinking when he reaches the warehouse, coherent enough to find every heartbeat in the building, even when all he wants to focus on is Danny's. He doesn't use it to sneak into the building, he can't risk taking the time for that.

He blasts right through the same door Danny had gone through, loud and fast and making absolutely sure to make a target of himself as he makes a bee-line for the nearest heartbeat, which he's counting on also being the nearest gun. He didn't calculate wrong, and the man's barely turned towards him, gun not even up and aimed as Eliot overtakes him. What happens next is almost too fast to follow, but it ends with the unfortunate asshole in a limp heap on the warehouse floor, his neck cleanly snapped, and his gun in Eliot's hands as he turns, already firing.

He doesn't even bother trying to dodge the return fire, relying on the knowledge that most people are shitty shots to begin with, and they just get worse under pressure. And if he ducks or dodges or hides, he's just giving these fuckers more time to remember they'd wanted to off the cop rather than worrying about their newest guest.

The first one to go down, a bullet neatly through the center of his forehead, is the bastard who'd been holding a gun point blank to the back of Danny's head when the door had burst open. He manages to squeeze off a shot in the second before he dies, but as expected it goes wide, missing Eliot by almost three feet.

The next one down is the fucker who'd grabbed Danny's gun, squeezing off wild, panicked shot after wild panicked shot. The closest one throws up a spray of concrete chips and dust from a few inches in front of Eliot's feet right before he drops like a rock, his face barely recognizable with the gaping hole in the middle of it made by three almost evenly spaced bullet holes.

The last man standing seems to have belatedly realized the error of his ways, turning to run in the face of Eliot's inexorable advance. He's beyond giving about mercy or justice, though. These fuckers laid hands on his Guide, planned to kill him and dump him like so much meat. He doesn't care if the fucker's running, and he brings his confiscated gun to bear on him without hesitation or remorse.

The moment the door bursts open Danny drops to the ground. Years of training kicking in and telling him to get down. In the time it takes him to locate his gun and reach for it Eliot has already killed almost everyone except for the guy that is running. It is the feeling of Eliot that hits him before he even sees him. He just knows Eliot is there, but when he finally spots him, the look on Eliot's face makes Danny pause but only for a split second.

"Eliot. Drop him, don't kill him." Having one of the perps alive would make the whole thing so much faster. Not to mention, killing someone who was running away... He tries to scramble to his feet to close the distance between himself and Eliot. "Eliot. Hey. Speak to me."

There's absolutely no conscious decision-making behind it, Danny tlls him to drop the bastard and Eliot's gun shifts smoothly from the head-shot he'd had sighted to take the guy's knee out from behind. It's a harder shot, the way he's moving, but it's as unerring as every other shot he's fired in these last, frantic couple of minutes.

Eliot doesn't stop moving at the man's agonized cry, a downed enemy isn't a harmless one, and he steps casually on the hand reaching for the gun the man had dropped in shock and pain as he'd fallen. "That'd be a bad life choice, don't make me shoot out the other one," he growls, the first word's he's said so far, as he tucks his own confiscated gun into his waistband at the small of his back. He bends to retrieve the fallen gun, eject the round in the chamber, and release the magazine with a feeling of long habit, and throws all the pieces over his shoulder in different directions.

He's unsteady, the sound of gunshots still ringing painfully loud in his ears, the stink of blood cloying and almost overwhelming, and when he turns back to Danny his pupils are blown wide, his gaze almost unfocused in the dimness of the warehouse.

"Guy's in the box," he rasps in response to Danny's demand, tongue thick and clumsy as he struggles to keep his shit together and get through the necessities. "Alive, prob'ly unconscious."

Eliot doesn't give a damn about him, though, or the one remaining thug, whimpering and cursing at his feet, so he silences him with an almost casual kick to the head and lurches a couple feet to meet Danny, instantly curling one hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him close. The other hand slides into his hair, feeling for any sign of injury even though he knows there wasn't time, as he presses his nose in to the soft skin beneath the smaller man's ear and breathes deep. Lets himself focus on his scent, the sound of his heartrate and breathing, not the rage and gut-wrenching fear that's still pulsing along his nerves.

Danny stares at Eliot. The way he moves is both facinating and terrifying and Danny is suddenly very happy they are on the same side, for now at least. He pulls Eliot close into the embrace, wrapping his arms around him and stroking his back. "That's alright, I got you. You're good. I promise." He takes a few deep breaths, trusting that Eliot will mirror it. "Thank you." And he means it. Eliot did just put himself in a whole lot of danger for him

There is a small bump to the back of his head and he makes a face when Eliot's fingers brush over it. But it is just that, a bump, nothing is broken or bleeding and in a few days there will be nothing left of it. Danny for his part mirrors Eliot's movements, checking his Sentinel over for any injuries he had gotten. "I got you Eliot, you're safe now."

He stays like that for a solid minute before he pulls back enough to look at Eliot's face, to meet his eyes. "The police is going to be here soon. You're not going to want to be here then. There will be questions, especially about how you did this. You got somewhere safe to go? Somewhere I can find you when I get out of here?"

It shouldn't settle him as much as it does. Something as simple as having an almost complete stranger's arms around him, a barely familiar voice murmuring in his ear. It shouldn't, but it does, and Eliot breathes in deep, letting Danny's scent ease something that he hadn't even realized had been tense and on guard all these years.

He finds the bump on Danny's head and trails his fingers carefully around it, mapping the perimeter without touching it again, growling under his breath at the fact he's injured at all. He doesn't even register the irony of Danny assuring him he's safe, when he'd just killed three men and crippled a fourth to keep him safe, because it feels true.

His eyes are still unfocused when Danny pulls away, and he curls the hand at the nape of his neck tighter, like he's afraid the other man's going to try and extricate himself.

"C'n hear the sirens," he slurs. He's been able to for most of the last minute, coming closer from multiple directions, and he forces himself to focus, to look around at the carnage. It would be easier if he'd just killed the last man, no one left to ID him, but he'd obeyed without thought and it's too late now. Even in this state he won't willingly kill an unconscious man. And he can't set the place alight to hide the evidence like last time... last time.

An almost imperceptible shudder works its way down his spine and he curls the fingers that had been tenderly working their way over Danny's scalp into his shirt, holding tight. He doesn't want to leave--he's not sure how well he'll be able to hold it together on his own and he doesn't want to risk being around Parker and Hardison when he's like this. But Danny's right, he can't be here when the cops show up.

"I'll call you." It's still a little slurred, his eyes still not tracking quite right, but it's better than a few moments ago. "Hardison'll lemme know when-" He waves a hand vaguely at the carnage. "When you're done."

Because he's not sure, even now, he wants to let Danny know where to find him, beyond what he already knows of the bar, and the residence listed on his driver's license where he most definitely doesn't live. He's not sure he can trust this, not with what he just did without thought or planning... and yet he's still standing there, fingers twisted into Danny's shirt, completely incapable of stepping away.

The slurring and how unfocused Eliot is worries him and he shifts to run his hands over Eliot and check him out for any injuries. He knows it is probably the zoning, but he'd rather check one time too many than one time too little. Besides, touching Eliot feels good and it seems to soothe him.

"I can give you the keycard to my place if that would be best. But Steve stayed there so..." So it smells of him. Danny moves to pull off his tie, handing it over. It is the only thing that smells of him that he can gvie to Eliot right now. Him being shirtless would bring up a whole lot of questions. "Steve says it helps." He says as an explanation.

He reaches to take the gun Eliot had used, whiping it clean and then making sure to get his own finger prints on it. He knows there are holes in the story without Eliot in it, but hopefully him being a member of the five-o will stop most of those. Then he pulls Eliot close again. "I'll find you, call and I'll come find you." He strokes Eliot's back and holds him until the sirens are almost too close.

Eliot shudders again and has to make himself step back, because the touch might be soothing, but it's also almost incapacitating right now. He needs it too much and if Danny doesn't stop he isn't going to be able to leave.

"Can't." He shakes his head and swallows hard. The idea of being in Danny's space, where everything smells of him is... almost overwhelming. Even without Steve's scent overlaying it all and setting him on edge, he's not sure he'd be able to handle it. He almost snatches the tie out of Danny's hands, though, and barely resists the urge to press his nose to it.

He doesn't object to Danny taking the gun from where he'd tucked into the small of his back, and when Danny pulls him in again he absolutely doesn't resist, just presses in close and burrows his nose into the soft spot beneath Danny's ear, drawing in deep, open-mouthed breaths and trying to convince himself that it'll be okay to let go. To leave.

When he finally does make himself pull away it's with a sharp jerk, almost violent, and he stumbles a bit as he registers how long he's left it. That the sirens are less than a block away, that he's going to have to run to get out without being seen. And he still doesn't want to leave, dammit, but he has to. So he takes another jerky step back, stuffing Danny's tie into his pocket, then abruptly, without another word, turns and breaks into a jog as he heads for the door with the best hope of cover. But he knows he'll call. Even if Danny hadn't ordered him to he'd call.

Danny stares after him until Eliot is gone. Then he sets about moving, getting the victim out of the crate. By the time the cops are through the door he got them on the floor, checking them over for any injuries. But it isn't hard to get him to stop back and let the cops take over. Soon enough the people he is working with on the case is there and he gives them a havily modified version of the story. He'd seen them take the victim in and had followed them. They had spotted him and he had had to act, taking them out.

Thankfully it seems like they buy it, even if there are some questions. The EMTs check him over but he's been lucky. It takes a few hours before he is discharged and told to go home to rest. As soon as he is out of the building he pulls out his phone to check it every few seconds. He stops and gets himself a big coffee and a bag of donuts. They are not quite masadas but he'd lived most of his life without masadas so he can handle another day. Then he walks, waiting for the call.

It takes more than a few minutes for the call to come, because it takes more than a few minutes for Eliot to focus past the buzzing chime of his phone to register what it actually is and when Hardison finally texts him to let him know Danny's been cut loose. And then a few more minutes to get past the sense of churning anxiety at the idea of actually taking the risk of putting himself in Danny's--in a Guide's--hands again when he's already this fucked up.

It's not that he's having to convince himself to dial the number he already has, it's that he's trying--and failing--to convince himself not to. When he finally loses that particular battle it's not even a matter of conscious volition, he just finds himself holding a ringing phone in stiff, clumsy fingers without any memory of dialing.

By then Danny has already had a chance to worry and he is actually headed towards the pub, if nothing else he suspects Eliot's people can help him find Eliot. What if Eliot didn't get away in time, what if someone caught onto him being a Sentinel. Or what if he is zoning? He swallows and picks up the pace a little. He had to find Eliot.

When the phone rings Danny answers almost instantly. "Eliot? That you?" You can hear the relief in his voice. "Where are you? I'll head there straight away." He stops and looks around to see if Eliot's been following him.

"Yeah." Eliot's voice is a harsh rasp, but he almost physically deflates as at least some of the tension eases out of him at the sound of the voice on the other end of the line. Only some of it, of course, because he still can't see Danny, can't smell him or touch him or properly assure himself that he's safe and whole and he's still just about vibrating out of his skin. Has been ever since he'd had to make himself leave the scene, because one of the cops had put a hand on Danny--just to his shoulder, leading him towards a car while they discussed the evidence found at the scene--and he'd wanted to throw himself down off the roof he'd been hunkered down on to rip the damn hand off.

And despite all that he still hesitates a long, drawn out beat before rattling off an address. Not his house--he hadn't wanted to take the stench of his own anxiety and fear and anger there, even if he'd been willing to trust Danny with the location--but an apartment he keeps in the city, far from either the pub or his own place.

"You all right?" he asks, because he can't hear any pain in his voice but that doesn't mean anything, and he needs to know. He also just needs to hear his voice again, needs for him to keep talking so he has something to focus on.

Danny turns and hails a cab, the phone still to his ear. "Yeah. The EMTs checked me out. I've got a bump that is all, would have been a lot worse if it wasn't for you. For both me and the guy they had grabbed." He smiles into the phone. He gets into the cab and gives the driver the address. Then he lowers his voice. He knows Eliot can still pick it out easily enough. "I said it was me. That I had gotten some lucky shots in. I am just hoping they'll take me at my word and not look to closely." Those shots had been too good for him to make even if he had been lucky.

"Alright, on my way now. Anything you want me to bring? Anything you need?" He asks, worry seeping into his tone. He can hear the rasp and that Eliot isn't alright. And it worries him. He wants to help, but this is new ground. With Steve he had known some of these things already, and they had gotten to talk about them before Steve had needed him. He doesn't have that luxury with Eliot.

Eliot's had nothing to do these last few hours but think and pace and pace and think, worrying about whether Danny was hurt, about whether he'd be able to spin what had happened without getting in trouble, about if he'd left some evidence that would somehow lead back to him... or, in his darker moments, whether Danny would simply hand him over. And intellectually he's still not entirely sure he won't, no matter what his instincts are screaming. But the one conclusion he has come to is that he fucked up badly.

"I should'a emptied the clip, shot a few wide... made it messier," he rasps, on his feet and pacing again. He should have made it look more like something someone with Danny's level of skill with firearms could have pulled off. But he'd been too overwhelmed at the time to think of that, to think of anything at all but his desperate need to keep his Guide safe.

"No, just-" He cuts off abruptly, because there's no way in hell he's gonna say something as pathetic as 'just you', even if that's all he's been able to think about for hours now, with his pulse pounding in his ears and his skin feeling like it's three sizes too small. "Just get here," he finishes. "I got everything I need here."

Danny frowns. "They don't know me, they don't know were my level is usually, and if it comes to it my team will lie about it for us." Even if Kono might make fun of him for it. "We'll be fine. We got the bad guys, now it is just wrapping the case up. Paperwork and the like."

He smiles a little because he hears that cutting off and ... well it is flattering for one. And for another it reflects how he feels. He needs Eliot. "Soon, we're not far away now. Though I never thought I'd miss McGarrett's driving. He would have had us there already. Of course it is my car he tends to drive like that." The talking seems to calm Eliot and now that Danny got him on the phone he doesn't want to let him go either. "He got an pick up and an old car that doesn't even run so he likes grabbing my camaro, says it is a much better car for the work we do."

Though the phone you can hear the cab stopping and Danny paying for the ride. And then soon he is at the door, the phone to his ear still and a bag of donuts in his other hand. "I'm here."

He hopes Danny's right, but even if he is Eliot knows he should have been more on the ball. Should have thought of and planned for how to doctor the scene to make sure he and Danny both got out of it safe. But he hadn't, he'd been damn close to feral, higher brain functions almost completely shut off and the memory of it makes him swallow back bile. Left to his own devices he would have killed every last thing that so much as twitched in that warehouse.

"Got Hardison, uh-" It's still hard to find his words right now, and the phone creaks in his flexing grip as he struggles to. "Got him monitoring things. Let us know if anything gets flagged, doctor it if he can."

The phone creaks again at mention of McGarrett, of the reminder that, even if they're not bonded, even if the man's (weirdly) willing to share, Danny's spoken for. He's got commitments and a support network that has nothing to do with Eliot, and once he's got this case wrapped up he'll be long gone.

Eliot doesn't trust himself to say anything in response, so he blocks out the words and just listens to Danny's voice, to the hum of the car's engine and the music the driver has quietly playing in the front. And, under it all, the beat of Danny's heart and the rhythm of his breath, keeping him from spinning completely out of control.

He hears the cab, the door and the cabbie's voice as Danny pays the fare, and he's already at the door to the safehouse by the time Danny reaches it... and then he stands there, hand on the knob and shaking slightly. Because if he does this, if he lets him in, he's fucked and he knows it. He hasn't had to deal with this for so damn long, either the peace and stability of it or the overwhelming fucking terror of knowing that he's risking handing over his free will.

He presses his forehead to the door and stands there, breathing in, stretching his senses until even through the sound-proofing of the door he can hear Danny's heartbeat in stereo, through the phone and right there. So close. He isn't thinking again, isn't capable of it, just reacting when instinct takes over and he flips the locks and steps away, pulling the door open with him and standing there wordlessly. Waiting.

Danny almost raises his hand to knock on the door. He has the feeling Eliot is nearby and the hesitating without answering him on the phone worries him. "Babe, you alright?" He glances between the door and his phone. Eliot had been quiet ever since he mentioned Steve. Fuck. Is that going to be a problem? He had hoped the two had talked, that Eliot had understood they wanted to help him. Both of them. He licks his lips.

Then the door opens before he gets a chance to do anything else. He glances around quickly before he steps inside and lets his eyes land on Eliot. He looks him over, carefully trying to assess the situation. He might not have a sentinel's senses but he can still read body language and he tries to tell how close Eliot is to zoning on him. He reaches for the door handle to close the door and then moves to hug Eliot again, but at the same time gives him plenty of warning if he wants to get away.

"It's alright, Eliot. I am here. Look at me. Remember to breathe. Deep breaths. Don't zone on me now, alright? I got you. Everybody's safe, the bad guys are dead and you're safe. Nobody knows you were there and nobody is going to get their hands on you while I have a say about it, alright? I am not letting anyone take you anywhere you don't want to go. I am here to help you."

The moment the door swings open Eliot's incapable of focusing on anything but Danny, his scent seeming to immediately permeate the room and the beating of his heart suddenly almost deafening without the soundproofed door between them anymore.

It's overwhelming, and part of him finds it terrifying and part of him finds it absolutely fucking perfect. Danny's voice is a comforting buzz of sound, the words meaningless, and Eliot finds himself sinking into it whether he wants to or not. Arms around him, a warm body pressed all along his front, Danny's scent even more all-encompassing, and without any conscious intent he ducks his head to press his nose against the soft skin beneath the shorter man's ear once more.

He just needs to breathe for a little while. To let everything settle. To find his balance again.

Danny just holds him. Hands stroking his hair and back as he tells Eliot he got him over and over. He lets the minutes pass, lets Eliot control everything about this, how close they are and how long they stand there. He leans his forehead on Eliot's shoulder and lets his hands find whatever muscle knots they can through the clothes on Eliot's back. He figures it might help Eliot relax. And hey, it is a good way to get his hands on this Sentinel, to learn what makes him react and relax and what grounds him.

"Thank you. If it hadn't been for you, my girl would have lost her father." He is not sure Eliot can hear the words but he needs to say them anyway. To thank him

Strong fingers working themselves into the knots in his shoulders and upper back are just one more thing to focus on, to anchor him here and now and keep him from being overwhelmed by irrelevant sensory input. Which doesn't mean it isn't still a struggle, it just shifts it from avoiding being pulled in too many directions to trying not to let himself spiral so tightly in on Danny--his voice, his scent, his heartbeat, the feel of his body pressed against Eliot's--that he loses everything else.

The fact Danny keeps moving and talking helps, keeps Eliot's focus shifting just enough to stop him from getting locked into any one input too hard and following it down the rabbit hole. And gradually, by almost imperceptible degrees, he relaxes. Shoulders slowly dropping, hands sliding down to rest lightly at Danny's hips, fingers only flexing every so often. Even his breathing slows and evens, though he keeps his nose pressed into the warm skin beneath Danny's ear. He needs the warmth and the contact and the scent of him, blocking everything else out.

He doesn't seem to actually register or react to anything Danny's saying beyond that, though, until he shifts from reassurances to that quiet thanks, and then Eliot's fingers flex a little tighter at his hips for a moment. "Was stupid of you, goin' in without backup," he rasps, lips actually moving against Danny's skin and breath washing over it, warm and damp with how close he is. "You could'a got killed, asshole." And there might be some intent, this time, in the way he presses not just his nose, but his lips to Danny's skin.

Danny smiles softly as the hands shift to his hips and he presses a little closer at that, but then the fingers grip a little harder and he shifts, blinking.

"They were going to kill that guy." He starts, then he realizes who he sounds like. "I've been hanging out with Steve too long." The lips on his neck brings a shiver to him, his eyes sliding shut of their own accord. There is something about that gentle touch that just hits right in his gut. Combine that with Eliot's voice, how good this feels and he has to take a breath before he leans back enough to meet Eliot's eyes. His arms are still around Eliot though.

"Eliot. Is this..." He takes a breath, just looking at Eliot for a long moment. "It's been a long time since anyone kissed me like that." Licks and tasting is fairly regular with Steve, kisses... Not so much. Not that he hadn't thought about it, but fuck.

"Better they kill him than you," Eliot answers instantly. He doesn't know shit about Steve, not really... or about Danny for that matter, but he knows what would have happened if he hadn't been fast enough today. Knows exactly how ugly it could have gotten, because he's been there before.

The memories, welling up unbidden, make it hard to let Danny pull even that little bit away, and his hands are suddenly trembling where they're still curled tight at Danny's hips. Because he remembers... he remembers wanting this so much. Warm skin under his hands and mouth, a solid body--taller, ganglier, so much younger--pressed against him. Feeling the pull of the incipient bond humming under his skin, sharpening his senses, settling him more solidly into himself. And knowing that even once they created the bond he'd never be able to have what he wanted so badly, because even Sentinels weren't exempt from the Army's rules on 'homosexual conduct'. But it wouldn't matter, so long as he had his Guide. He was determined that he wouldn't let it matter.

He'd had never had to find out if he could have lived that way, though, never had a chance to feel the bond lock into place... but Eliot can still smell him, when the memories (nightmares) come, warm and musky and always a little sweat-tinged. Young. So young. Still hear the irrationally reassuring thrum of his voice, the steady beat of his heart, lulling him when the world was a little too much... hear it ratcheting up in panic, his voice going high and sharp and terrified before it cut off in a scream of terror and pain. And then all he could hear was gunfire and screaming, all he could smell was blood, and all he could do to try and deal with the pain--sudden and sharp and worse than anything he'd ever thought possible--was kill.

"Boyd," he rasps, and there's something lost and desperate and absolutely heartbroken in that one word, even as Eliot's lips peel back from his teeth in rage and his eyes, focused somewhere in the middle distance, seem to look into some horror far beyond this small, quiet room.

"Eliot. You're safe, I got you." When Eliot starts to tremble Danny presses close again. He can only guess what happened, but everything about how Eliot had reacted had told him he had some bad experiences. Different than Steve's and maybe worse in some ways. He seemes a lot more broken, but maybe that is because Steve and Danny had gotten time to know eachother before all of this had been pushed on them. He makes sure as much of his body is pressed against Eliot as he can, giving him that to focus on and he slides his hands up under Eliot's shirt. Skin on skin seems to help.

"I got you Eliot. It's just me here, Danny. It's just you and me. Breathe with me hm?" He takes one hand and grabs Eliot's hand to put it on his chest. "Here, feel that, think you can breathe like that for me?" Danny swallows when Eliot mentiones that name. He doesn't know who it is, but he can guess, and the tone in Eliot's voice makes his heart break. He wants to pull the man back, protect him from this hurt.

He reaches up to grab Eliot's hair, to nudge him to meet Danny's eyes. "Eliot, look at me. You're doing good. I'm not letting you go and I'm not going anywhere." He licks his lips, uncertain, he wants to kiss Eliot, to chase all of the pain and memories away, but he has no idea what that might do. Would it push Eliot further into these memories or pull him out of them? He takes a breath and looks around for a couch or a chair, somewhere he can get Eliot seated.

Edited 2017-05-04 12:33 (UTC)

The voice and scent and heartbeat are different, they don't even come close to matching his memories, but somehow they're right, and even as Eliot starts to thrum with tension, with the need to rend and tear and punish someone, anyone, for what happened to his Guide, they're irresistibly soothing. Hands on his skin, warm and sure, a voice murmuring steadily in his ear, and that scent...

He lets his head be turned, eyes starting to regain their focus, looking less like they're staring into unspeakable horrors. And when Danny licks his lips Eliot's focus sharpens like a hawk's, gaze dropping to watch almost hungrily before he presses back in with a choked sound, sucking in deep, ragged breaths against Danny's skin.

None of this is the same--Danny's too small, too solid, his scent heavier, threaded through with the metallic tang of metal and gun oil, his heartbeat slower, his voice rougher, lower--but it's right in a way Eliot recognizes bone deep, no matter how hard he's tried not to. More importantly, it's enough to push the worst of the memories back for now, to start to calm the anxiety and fear and rage and bloodlust pulsing under Eliot's skin, and to let him move when Danny urges him to.

He doesn't loosen his grip, if anything it goes tighter, the hand over Danny's heart fisting tight in his shirt even as Danny maneuvers him towards the couch. Moving this way's awkward, but Eliot manages it with surprising grace for being plastered against the smaller man like he's trying to press right into his skin, and when they reach the couch he makes no move to pull away or sit. If anything, he presses closer, mouthing at the stubbled skin beneath Danny's jaw, letting himself taste and lock down that one, last sensory input his instincts have been demanding.

Danny had been about to get Eliot to sit down when the other surprises him with that, the hungry needy kiss against his neck, and before he can stop himself he lets out a desperate little whine. Fuck he wants this, wants Eliot. He's been telling himself he can't have it because it would be taking advantage. But when Eliot's lips hits one of his more sensitive spots he can't help the way his body reacts. Heart pumping faster, blood a little hotter and slight way he gives in and offers Eliot more of his neck. His fingers dig in to Eliot's back, trembling ever so slightly. If Eliot had only had normal senses he might not have been able to tell.

But Danny knows he isn't that lucky. He knows that even if Eliot wasn't focused on him, he could be able to tell, but now there is no way he would not have. So he releases the breath he's been holding and relaxes into the touch. Letting himself feel and most importantly enjoy it. But it only lasts for a few seconds before he can't stand it anymore and he grabs Eliot's hair back enough to get him to let go of the neck so Danny can kiss him properly, a kiss full of hunger and need.

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Re: Danny and Eliot: Save my ass

Danny and Eliot: Save my ass