Disclaimer: I own nothing, just showing my love of a wonderful show. No harm intended.
I said I'd do it, so I did it..I may do it again 'cause he looks so good in my head doing it. (Get you minds out of the gutter.)
Glowing Embers
There is a quiet click as the old stereo drops another record onto the turntable, next comes a creaking sound as the arm moves back into position followed by crackling as the needle makes contact with worn vinyl. The quiet is broken by the sound of Pink Floyd. The crackles and pops just as much a part of the song as the lyrics and music. He remembers trying to explain his love of records, how hearing the music, thru the format is was intended to be heard, made him feel more a part of it. He's still not sure they understand but it's not uncommon to find a pack of needles, a 45, or an album on his desk when he comes into the office. There is even an old suitcase player tucked into is bookcase, complete with a penny taped to the arm. Eliot prays that the music will work it's magic tonight and allow himself to focus on something other than the events of the day.
He can see the lightening bugs flashing outside the window screen, and despite the music he can still hear a chorus of insects calling out their nightly song. It's warm out, the windows are open and ceiling fan is on high, Eliot can feel the sweat building on his body. Kicking off the thin sheet covering him he is rewarded by a cooling breeze. Between the ache in his right leg and the pressure in the air he knows that a storm will be moving in before the morning.
He's so tired, all he wants to do is sleep, yet his brain won't stop replaying the days events over and over when he closes his eyes. It takes a few minutes before he realizes his hands are trembling again...honestly they haven't stopped since he left the presence of the team. Eliot squeezes his eyes shut tightly and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, silently repeating to himself that he is stronger than this, that he doesn't need it. It's no use his right hand, reaches out blindly for the items on the nightstand.
A flash of light then the smell of burning tabacco, his hand steady as he pitches the open pack and lighter back onto the nightstand. Tucking his left hand behind he head and taking another drag off his cigarette Eliot watches the embers glow brightly before thumping the ash off into the tray resting on his chest. There are so many reasons why this is not good for him. He shouldn't need anything to calm him down the way this does, it's an addiction and he can't afford addictions in his line of work. He knows that it affects his body, he knows that he'll feel it in his lungs in the morning when he does his run. Crap it will affect him the next time he fights and he takes a blow that winds him.
That doesn't matter right now, because right now when closes his eyes all he sees are burning embers of that warehouse. He had come so close..to close to losing the one person that meant everything to him. So if this...smoking this cigarette... allows him to put it out if his mind for even a moment...he'll take it.
The bed dips and Eliot feels a warm body slide in close to him seconds before practiced fingers steal the cigarette from his lips, crushing the butt out in the tray before banishing the item to the nightstand .
Exhaling Eliot pushes the smoke out thru his nose. "I wasn't thru with that." He grumbles but makes no move to retrieve the items.
"Tough, this is one dragon I intend to slay, smoking is a nasty bad habit." There is exaperation in the voice laced more with sadness than anger.
"Yeah but I'm a nasty bad man." Eliot smirks as his lover moves so that they are hovering over him. Eliot closes his eyes and submits to the gentle kisses and as he reaches out to touch the preson that has become his world his hands tremble, but not in the bad way.