dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

Danny follows him, shirt open since there is only a few buttons left and those were the ones he didn't button to begin with. "I know. I need you too. But that is the point. I need Steve as well and he needs me." He leans on the counter, just out of reach, giving Eliot space but all it takes is a step closer.

"Is it the pineapples? They put pineapples on everything." He tries to joke, but he has a good idea of what it is. "It isn't all military. But we see more of them than most, espeically with Catherine coming around. She's Steve's old handler. They think he's... dormant, is that the phrase?"

He watches the coffee being made for a second and then continues. "So, I can't leave Hawaii for good and you can't go there. We can meet inbetween but it won't be constant. We can have phone calls like Steve and I do when I am here. They seem to help some."

"Dormant, yeah." He glances up, tense and wary, from where he's pulled coffee beans, a hand grinder and a french press out of one of the cabinets. "So they're keepin' tabs on him an' hopin' he'll come back online." Jaw tight, he nods in understanding before addressing any of the rest of it.

"But see, that's the thing." He shakes his head, glad for the distraction of something to do with his hands as he pours beans into the grinder and starts to crank. "You don't. You go back an' you'll have your Sentinel. There's nothin' I got that you need." And no guarantee that once Danny's safely back home with the man, the Sentinel, he's so devoted to, that he'll actually keep any promises he makes here and now in the heat of the moment.

Maybe you call a few times, maybe you come out once or twice before it's too much of a hassle. Gets in the way of your job, your time with your kid... your time with Steve." And then it stops. And Eliot's fucked. "An' hell, even if you don't disappear on me... it's over six hours from here to Honolulu, even without taking into account maybe havin' t'wait hours for the next flight. If I tip the scales in the wrong damn direction that's a body count in the double digits an' nothing an' no one here to stop me." Which is something Danny needs to understand, whether he's potentially going to be here to face it down or simply get stuck dealing with the aftermath. He saw enough today to have some idea of what he's looking at getting himself into, but he needs to understand what kind of shit he might be looking at dealing with, not shrug it off with some optimistic bullshit about making it work out.

"Yeah. We're trying to make sure they don't notice. And that they don't notice about me, for Grace's sake if nothing else." He pauses, watching Eliot work. "One of my Sentinels. I need you just like I need him. It isn't like when he was here over the weekend I didn't need you. I did need you and I wanted you."

He isn't even going to address the fact that Eliot thinks he is going to leave. He tells himself not to be hurt, that Eliot doesn't know him. Doesn't know that once you have Danny's heart he won't let you go. So instead he focuses on the next part, the part about the body count. "And if we call this off, walk our seperate ways after this talk, do you have anything to stop you then?" He isn't being mean, rather honest concern in his voice. Even if Eliot decides he doesn't want Danny after all, Danny wants him to be safe and sound. "I know it is a high body count." He'd seen Eliot earlier today. "If you think me being on the phone would help in that situation, I'll do that. Or maybe I can help you look for another guide here, someone who'd work better for you."

It doesn't take him more than a moment to make the leap, to understand what he means about Grace--both in losing him and in possibly being flagged as someone to watch. Someone to collect, willing or not, when the time comes. The thought makes him angry, but so does Danny's claim. "Like hell you did." But it's less an answer and more muttered under his breath as he pours the ground beans into the french press and sets the kettle on the stove to heat... which is a sign in itself of how twisted up he is, because otherwise he'd have had it all coming together with perfect timing, the hot water ready to pour as soon as the beans were ground.

It should be just a minor irritation, but along with everything else it sets his teeth on edge, and he curls both hands over the edge of the counter, knuckles going white with the force of his grip. "The fact you think another Guide's somethin' I can just go shoppin' for is proof you don't know shit about how this works," he growls, though it doesn't come off sounding like a criticism. His next words, though, he delivers flatly, making himself look directly into Danny's eyes. Because if he's going to scare him off he needs to do it now. "D'you know how many of your kind I've had t'kill, 'cause they would'a tried to turn me into a damn push button killer again?" Whether for his own military or some other, even less ethical, organization.

"You're right. I don't know any of this. But I want to help you anyway you want." He looks at Eliot. People have tried to scare him off before. Usually using that line on the cop side of him. But never have they been as qualified as Eliot to actually do it. But despite that he trusts Eliot. He trusts that he won't hurt him. Then the implication of what Eliot said about people trying to turn him into a weapon makes Danny angry.

"You're not a tool or a thing and I'd go hunt down any guide who tried to make you that myself." His voice is low, angry and there is a determination in them that says he speaks the truth. Eliot is his. UIf Eliot doesn't want them to do something more out of this, Danny will respect that, but that doesn't mean Eliot will lose Danny's protection. "And if they think they can turn you into a weapon then it is a good thing you killed them."

Eliot's the one to break eye contact and look away. He has to, because seeing the anger and the honesty there... it's not something he's prepared for. Not something he'd ever have expected from a Guide.

"That's all my kind are, weapons or tools or threats to be put down." It's all anyone he's ever met--military, police, mercenary, mob, civilian--has ever seen Sentinels as. These days even elementary schools have programs to teach kids how to recognize Sentinels and turn them in, so they can be 'helped before they hurt someone'... and he hopes Danny's doing something to counteract the damn brainwashing in his own kid before it bites him and Steve on the ass some day. "You're the first Guide I've met in my whole damn life who didn't see me that way." Though a couple of them had been less because they'd bought into the brainwashing and more because they'd been on opposite sides--of a conflict, of a paycheck--and he'd been an active threat to them and theirs.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry not more of us are on your side. I..." He takes a breath. "Before I met Steve, well, before I found out really, I believed some of it too. Not that you're weapons or tools, but that you do better when you're controlled. That's all they ever show us. They don't show us Sentinels being told they are tools, they don't show us forced zoning. I think if people knew..." He licks his lips. "I don't believe any of that anymore and I am disgusted that I ever did." This was stuff he'd never told Steve, never told him he'd bought into the public perception of what Sentinels are.

"Your abilities doesn't make you any less human or any less deserving of respect and freedom."

He doesn't look back up at Danny, focusing instead on pouring the now hot water into the french press, then pulling out mugs and sugar and cream while it steeps. Even after all these years, though, he flinches--barely, but visibly--at the reminder of being forced to zone, of being driven almost feral, some of it to make him as reliant on a Guide as possible, some of it simply as 'negative reinforcement' for not performing to specifications. None of it changes one simple fact, though-

"Thing is, we are dangerous," he points out flatly, still not making eye contact. "Even with Guides some of us have shit control, an' our sanity can be really damn questionable. An' without Guides-" He stops abruptly and shakes his head, chewing on the inside of his cheeks. The way they're treated by the military is, as far as he's concerned, unconscionable, but there is a legitimate concern behind it.

"Yes you are dangerous and you are able to wreck havoc if you want to but that doesn't mean you're not human or deserve some say in how you are treated. There is no if or buts about that, Eliot. This is your life, you should get to decide how to live it." He reaches out to place a hand on Eliot's arm and hopefully make him meet his eyes. "I am not trying to make light of a real danger, and making sure normal humans aren't hurt is something we have to work on, but it doesn't justify the way you've been treated."

He realizes his mistake a moment too late, as Danny's hand curls around his biceps and a shiver runs down his spine at the contact. There's no way in hell he's going to be able to make himself pull away, and even less chance he'll walk out the door. All he really wants to do is step into Danny's space and press against him, push his nose into his hair and into that soft, warm spot beneath his ear and breathe him in. He just... wants, and no matter how high this whole situation is ramping up his paranoia Danny's presence is still settling the part of him that's been making him plan for the eventual worst from months now.

"I've been out an' on my own for over fifteen years, now, sweetheart." He pauses, jaw tightening a little at the endearment slipping out without conscious intent, but then continues a bit more gruffly. "Your boy's had a lot more'a that shit to deal with than I have." He's just had to deal with keeping his control and his sanity on his own, and if he had a few years that were beyond questionable in that department... well, he's mostly done okay since. And he's got the bones of a plan in place to make sure he's never that kind of menace again.

Danny's thumb strokes Eliot's skin, warm and mesmerizing under his touch. And he wants to touch more, remembers touching more. But he makes himself pull the hand away. And it is a much harder struggle than it really should be. He just wants to be there, next to Eliot, touching him. Keeping him sane and safe. Instead, he reaches for a mug so he has something to keep himself occupied with.

"Do you want to be on your own? I won't lie, I don't want to leave you, but if it is what you want, I'll respect that. And I know Steve has his issues. I am trying to help him. If you decide you want me, I would like you to have a chat with him. He's only been out a couple of years. You might be able to help. Hell, you might be able to help more than I can."

It's almost more than Eliot can manage, not to follow after Danny when he pulls his hand away. But he clenches his hands tight on the counter for a moment, then makes himself depress the plunger in the french press and pour himself a mug before offering it to Danny. It gives him a moment to collect himself, and bite back on the bitter laugh that wants to escape at the question.

"Even if I wanted t'be alone-" And take that as you will, Danny- "... I'm not gonna be safe for much longer." He hasn't even said the words in his own head before this, carefully maneuvering around admitting the worst while steadily preparing for it. He doesn't like admitting it even now, but it doesn't feel like he has much choice anymore. "I've been slippin' already, but you-" He stops, jaw working. "This has blown my timeline t'hell."

Danny takes the coffee and pours a mug, adding milk but leaving the sugar out. But he freezes at Eliot's admission and suddenly he is filled with regret, he regrets coming here, coming after Eliot, meeting him, the ... not quite sex, all of it. He'd fucked up the balance Eliot had been trying to maintain.

He swallows, looking away. "I... I am sorry Eliot." He doesn't know what else to say, or how to make it better.

Eliot doesn't doctor his coffee at all, just takes a drink of the scalding hot liquid more for something to do than because he cares about it. "Like I said, this just sped up the timeline, didn't change the eventual outcome."

Danny looks at him and licks his lips. "And that is fucked no matter if I stay or go?" He sighs and sips his coffee. "As I said, it is your call but Steve and I want to help if we can. You need some time to think about it?"

And that's the thing, isn't it? The reason he's so twisted up about Danny leaving, because- "No." He shakes his head, and it's probably not clear which question he's answering, not even to him. But maybe it's both at once. "I'm fucked on my own." He closes his eyes but has to open them again immediately, because with them closed his senses zero in on Danny's heartbeat, his scent, focusing on his presence to the absolute exclusion of everything else.

"Shouldn't've been able to stay this sane for this long on my own as it is." He's not sure anyone ever has, and he's not always sure he's entirely sane, or entirely in control. There have been... incidents. Bodies he hadn't really meant to leave in their wake, even if maybe they'd deserved it, times he's pulled himself back from that edge with just a hair's breadth to spare. And longer and longer he spends hyper-focused on Hardison or Parker or the routine of the kitchen either to block out everything else in the world around him before it sweeps him under, or in a frantic effort to keep anchored to the world at all.

Danny sips his coffee and listens as Eliot speaks. "Will having me around once in a while but not all the time make it harder for you, now that the damage is already done?" He watches Eliot closely, feeling the tension lurking under the surface and he wants to reach out and pull Eliot close and make him forget about that again. He offers his hand to him.

"You did stay in control. That is a long time, you're stronger than you think."

"Don't know," he admits roughly, and puts the mug down because he needs something to do, something to distract him, and he's about to turn and start pulling ingredients from the fridge so he can at least cook something when Danny reaches out... and he can't resist. He curls his fingers around the smaller man's and pulls him close, because he can't just touch, apparently. He buries his nose in his hair and just breathes for a moment.

"Feel more grounded with you here than I have in years." And he's zoned more since meeting Danny than he has in years as well, but he knows a big part of that is just unexpectedly struggling to cope with how absolutely his focus zeroes in on Danny when he's around, and then trying to make his old coping mechanisms fit again when he's not. "Not sure how you not bein' round'll change that."

"Maybe I could leave some stuff here? Steve says it helps, the scent. Stuff that can help you stay grounded when I am in Hawaii." He slides his arm around Eliot and holds him firmly against him. "As I said, if we want to do this really our only option is to try things out. Maybe your crew could learn some tricks too. Chin and Kono... The two other members of the taskforce have learned some to help Steve when I'm not around."

"That... might help," he concedes. "Scent... scent's one of my biggest triggers, so that could... it could be good." It could maybe be enough, combined with phone calls. With visits... but those are what he's worried about, because without them it absolutely won't be, and there's only so much he can expect Danny to disrupt his life to help a stranger, no matter how strongly he claims to feel about it. "But me goin' t'Honolulu'd be a bad idea."

"Maybe there is somewhere else we could meet. Somewhere in the middle. Well not out in the ocean but.." Danny smiles and tightens his grip on Eliot, just leaning on him before he pulls back just enough to drink his coffee. "This is good coffee."

"Not much of a sailor, so yeah, maybe not there," he agrees, and it's not much, but his tone's lightened just a little with the joke, and when Danny pulls back he lets him go. Or, well, Eliot lets him have enough room to drink his coffee, anyway.

"Can figure somethin' out, though... if you're sure you wanna." Because he still can't make himself feel comfortable accepting that.

"Yeah, I am sure." He leans in to kiss Eliot's chest and the lick away the drop of coffee he left there. "I would want to even if I didn't get to do this. That's just a bonus." He smiles up at Eliot.

He leans his forehead at Eliot's shoulder again, just enjoying being close for a moment before his stomach decides to ruin the mood with grumbling.

When Eliot shivers in reaction he's not sure how much of it is to Danny's lips and tongue on his skin and how much of it to the absolute assurance of his answer. It feels like something he can believe, or at least something he wants to, no matter how hard over two decades of hard-learned paranoia is making it to accept.

He curls a hand at the nape of Danny's neck and stretches his thumb just far enough to rest over the steady throb of his pulse, matching the feel of it under Danny's skin to the sound he feels his own heart trying to sync up to. He's just using his thumb to tip Danny's head up, giving up any pretense of resistance as he ducks down to catch his lips again, when Danny's stomach decides to have his say, and Eliot stops with his lips a hair's breadth from Danny's, eyes wrinkling and lips twitching up with humor before he closes the distance for a soft, warm, almost chaste kiss.

"Guess I'm gonna hafta feed you before I can fuck you, huh?" he asks, breathing the words against Danny's lips.

Danny tips his head easily enough, enjoying the way Eliot takes control. He knows at some point he'll want talk to Eliot about it, figure out how far Eliot wants it to go. But right now he is just happy taking what he can get. He blushes a little at the sound, but it is quickly ignored as Eliot kisses him and he kisses back, sighing softly, contently into the kiss.

Then he chuckles at the words. "You don't have to but my stomach growling doesn't make for the best soundtrack." He steals another kiss. "You want help?"

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