dann_0 | PSL: Sentinel AU

For his part, Eliot pulls out arborio, chicken, asparagus, wine, and some stock he had in the freezer, the latter of which he sets in a pot on the stove to defrost. He might not live here, but he uses the place often enough (generally for one night stands) to keep it well stocked. He watches Danny work, but it doesn't take long to determine that he knows what he's doing well enough he doesn't need to be closely supervised, and gets on with his own preparations instead.

"Sounds like it was nice," he comments as he takes Danny's onions and adds them to the pot. Nice is probably an understatement, but completely alien is closer. He has a vague memory of his mother in the kitchen before she died, and there's a feeling of comfort and safety that goes with it, but he was over thirty before he ever found any comfort in a kitchen again. "Your family get together often?"

"Yeah, we're a close family. It's a little harder now, me being in Hawaii. But it was either that or not see Grace." He glances over at Eliot as he works. "Now it is mostly cooking for Steve and me and... well, there are a lot of late nights as cops. We end up going to Kamekona's a lot. He makes some strange dishes at times but his garlic shrimp is good. There are a bunch of other good places. I miss a good Italian place though."

He finishes the mushrooms and puts them in a separate bowl. He watches Eliot work, there is something fascinating about it that he loves.

"Got lots of good seafood there, though. Ain't the same as a really good pizza, or homemade tagliatelle, but it's gotta be some consolation, right?"

Eliot relaxes a lot when he cooks, and even with Danny's presence splitting his focus every movement is easy and precise, like something he's done so often and so well he could almost do it perfectly in his sleep. "Grate me some parmesan?" He nods to the block of reggiano he pulled from the fridge. "Graters in that cabinet there."

"Oh yeah there is plenty of good food, I am not saying that. It's just sometimes you miss the stuff you've grown up on. Or at least I do."

Danny nods at the order. "Yes, sir." He gives Eliot a little grin, testing the waters before he fetches the grater and starts grating the cheese. "You one of those people who believe there is a limit to how much cheese you should put in or should I just keep going until my arm hurts?"

"Yeah, I get that. Guess you just gotta make do when you go home." He got the chicken stock defrosted and gently simmering now, and starts adding it slowly to the rice.

"Don't call me sir, I work for a living," he answers almost by rote, but he meets Danny's grin with a small smile of his own. "Nah, a bit over a cup'll do it. You use too much an' it gets gluey."

He raises an eyebrow at Eliot's comment about working, but he doesn't say anything else right now. He doesn't want to scare Eliot off now that they've finally figured out they want to give it a try. He moves to grate the cheese and gives Eliot a smile. "When did you start cooking?"

He wants to learn more about the other man. More is an understatement. He wants to learn everything. What makes him smile or laugh, how to spoil him, everything. He breaks off a little bit of the cheese and offers it to Eliot to nibble on.

The comment itself doesn't have any great meaning, but never having been military, Danny might not recognize it as the noncom's standard answer to being sirred. For all that they both started military, Eliot had a very different career track to Steve, and even if he hadn't been burned and cut loose so long ago he likely never would have been an officer.

"Did a lot of the cookin' when I was a kid, but that was mostly boxed mixes an' processed crap." Which he hadn't liked even then, though he hadn't known it was because he could taste all the chemicals and preservatives. It had been what they could afford and what he could figure out with no real guidance, so it hadn't mattered. "Took home ec in high school, but that was more 'cause the teacher was hot than 'cause I cared." All of which is more than he's bothered to tell anyone before, even Hardison and Parker, but he has the same impulse Danny's feeling--he wants to know everything he can, and he wants to share his own life, within reason, in return.

"Didn't start cookin' proper 'til about eight years ago, when I ran across a guy runnin' a culinary school on the job an'-" He shrugs. "It just kinda clicked." He leans over to take the cheese from Danny's fingers, wrapping his lips around them then curling his tongue around them as he pulls away, eyes going dark again.

Edited 2017-05-11 19:02 (UTC)

Danny licks his lips and shifts. "Easy babe, don't want to get too worked up before we've eaten. Have to make sure to keep our strength after all. I got a feeling this will be a marathon, not a sprint." Not that Danny likes any kind of running.

"I've lived off that boxed crap, right after Rachel and I broke up and I was living in various hotels. Not much you can cook then. What kind of job did you do before this?"

Eliot huffs a laugh and slides his hand under Danny's shirt, callouses catching at the coarse hair on his belly. "Nothin' wrong with keepin' the interest up, though." He smirks and pulls away, going back to stirring the risotto, adding in a bit more of the stock and then starting the chicken in another pan.

"Sometimes y'do what you gotta," he agrees. "I like fresh, home made best when I can get it, though." He doesn't answer the question right away, focuses on seasoning the chicken and adding another small ladle full of simmering stock to the rice. "Worked for a couple different PMCs right after the military." He doesn't mention that it was after the months it took him to heal from the torture. Or what those private military corporations had done. "An' some private security an' a whole lotta other things after that. Been runnin' the restaurant for about three years now, though."

Danny shivers a little at Eliot's hand on his belly and he smiles warmly to the other. He loves all of this, the easy flirting the smell of the food cooking, the way Eliot moves comfortably in the kitchen. He thinks he could watch it forever.

"How are things in the private sector? They more accepting of Sentinels or did they not know?" Maybe that is an option for Steve. Danny doubts it though, he knows the man. He picks up his mug and sips it while they talk. Normally he'd be going for wine but it is a little early still. "It's a good restaurant. Seems popular and for good reason if you ask me."

"It's as much of a shit show there as the military. Only reason the military didn't manufacture me a new identity an' drag me back in was because they figured I was burned out for good, an' once I came back online I kept it to myself. Avoided others of our kind... killed 'em when I had to."

He doesn't meet Danny's eyes, keeps his focus--at least visibly--on the multiple pans he has going now. But he's listening to Danny's heartrate and breathing, drawing in his in his scent, alert for any sign that he can't handle what Eliot's telling him.

"We've been doin' good with the restaurant," he agrees. "Better since Hardison figured out the brewin' part an' learned t'stop tryin' t'mess with my menu. It's solid."

Danny frowns, saddened and angry at Eliot's words but not at Eliot. At the people who hurt him in the past and kept hurting others like him. "You did what you had to." He believes that is true, even if he wishes it wasn't. But why would Eliot lie about this?

"I'll admit I didn't get a good look at it, considering you just decided for me, but maybe later? Or maybe I could just have you cook the dishes here. It is a much nicer view watching you work rather than staring at a bar."

"Yeah, something like that." Because he knows he'd done a hell of a lot more than that, but it's not something he can share with Danny. Not yet, maybe not ever.

"No, you should def'nitely come by the restaurant again before you-" The pause is brief, barely noticeable, but it's there- "Leave for home. I don't spend all my time in the kitchen." Which is probably pretty obvious from the amount of time he's spent tailing Danny, and then waiting on him and with him since the incident. "We can actually eat together." And, hell, Hardison and Parker know he's a Sentinel now, not much point in trying to keep it to himself that he's queer anymore either.

"I'd like that. Been a while since I've been on a real date. On one condition though. That you don't tear all my shirts to shreds. I am going to need something to wear if we go out." Or they'd have to go shopping, which Danny doesn't particularly want and he assumes Eliot feels the same way. "Unless you're going to have me wear something of yours." He chuckles and moves to run a hand up Eliot's back, exploring the muscles under his skin.

"Got some shirts that'd look good on you," he answers, turning into the touch and ducking down to kiss Danny again. "An' if you don't want me t'ruin dinner you're gonna hafta not gimme ideas like that." Because damn, apparently the idea of Danny in his clothes does it for him.

"Are they flannel?" Danny raises an eyebrow. He really isn't sure that would be a good look. He is far too much of a city boy to picture himself looking like a lumberjack. "Any other ideas you want me to give you instead?" He smirks. "How about wearing nothing but the marks you've left on me?"

"You'd look good in flannel," Eliot counters, smirking. "But I've got plenty of t-shirts an' dress shirts if flannel offends you that much."

His breath catches at the last question and he forgets about the risotto for a moment in favor of pushing Danny back against the counter and kissing him long and hard and deep. "You keep sayin' shit like that an' you can forget about eating 'fore I drag you t'bed," he rasps when he pulls back.

Danny smirks into the kiss as he nips at Eliot's lip. "I better behave then." He steps back and lets Eliot get back to the cooking but he does still have that smirk on his face. "But I would like to see what happens when I don't."

He shrugs and looks down at himself. "I've just never been into it. It makes me think of camping and I've never been a big fan of that."

"How 'bout you let me feed you up this time, an' next time you can distract me all you want?" he offers. Because he's not exactly opposed to the idea of bending Danny over the counter and fucking him right here, and food sanitation be damned. Just... not this first time.

"Nothin' wrong with camping, city boy," he points out, stepping back and adjusting himself before he gets back to the risotto. Which isn't going to take that much longer, and he makes himself focus on stirring the last of the stock into it, as well as the mushrooms, asparagus and chicken he's had going in separate pans, and finally Danny's cheese.

"That sounds like a plan." He chuckles and moves to set the table for them. He can figure his way around most kitchens and it is only fair that he does some of the work when he'll be eating as well.

"I guess not, but why, when you can go somewhere comfortable? Running water, a proper toilet. No bugs."

"Fresh air, peace an' quiet, no traffic or people or smog. Wakin' up to the sound of birds singing." You're doomed, Danny. Doomed.

It's... amazingly comfortable and easy, how Danny moves around his space, how the table's set and ready with no awkwardness or need to coordinate. Eliot spoons the risotto into a serving dish and brings it to the table along with the rest of the bottle of wine he'd used in cooking, because it's not that early. The pans are already rinsed or soaking, the kitchen remarkably tidy for how much food was just cooked in it. "I like havin' you in my space, sweetheart," he murmurs, leaning in for another kiss as he sets the food and wine down.

"Yeah, you can get that without the sleeping in a tent and bugs and everything." But he sighs. He knows when he is up against someone being far too stubborn for his own good. When Eliot pulls him close and kisses him he melts a little against Eliot's chest and then smiles warmly. "I like being in it. It feels safe."And it does. He trusts Eliot more than he should but that doesn't seem to bother him. "And that smells amazing."

Eliot just smirks in answer. Doomed, Danny.

"Good." He curls a hand around the nape of Danny's neck in a brief, remarkably gentle caress, then slides into the seat across from him. "Make sure you get plenty'a protein, sweetheart, I plan on you needin' your strength."

Danny raises an eyebrow at the smirk, but he doesn't say anything. The comment makes him grin and he settles into his chair and then moves to pour wine into their glasses. "In bed and not out in some forest I hope?" That being said he does pour a glass of water for each of them as well. Hydration is important.

Once the food is served he takes a mouthful and closes his eyes in bliss. Danny's never been one to hide his feelings, especially about food. He makes a soft sigh of pleasure as he swallows and then he looks back at Eliot. "Damn that is good."

"We'll leave the forest for some other trip," he answers, lifting his wine glass in salute before taking a sip.

Eliot has his own fork halfway to his mouth when Danny takes his first bite, and he just stops with it paused in med-air, watching the look on Danny's face, feeling the soft sound of pleasure he makes like a gut punch. Christ, he might not survive this meal at this rate, not with how much he wants this man. This almost complete fucking stranger, and Eliot wants him more than he can ever remembering wanting anyone. More than he'd wanted Aimee... more than he'd wanted Boyd.

By the time Danny opens his eyes again Eliot's recovered himself, takes his own first bite and washes it down with another sip of wine before answering. "Yeah, well, given I get paid t'cook it'd be pretty said if it wasn't," he points out. And at least the fact that Danny's enjoying his cooking this much makes it a bit easier to hold out and be patient for after.

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