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Having reluctantly left Neil to talk to Grantaire on his own, Marcus returns to the bedroom, pausing every so often to listen for the voices outside. It seems that Grantaire is done shouting, though he can occasionally hear Neil's voice, despite his efforts to keep the volume down, and he finds he's glad Sabrina is with Nick for the night. She'd not respond well to this, nor should she have to, and Marcus is relieved she'll get to be kept out of it.

He's not sorry to have given Neil a place to stay and he'll never take back that offer or the safety of his home. Nor does he entirely blame Grantaire for his outburst, although he does wish, with a very heavy heart, that he hadn't returned to drinking. This is life, for better or worse, and for the first time in five long decades, Marcus is a part of it. His love for Neil far outweighs any loss of sleep or concern he has for the glass outside. None of that matters. He is a little worried about Dan, however.

But this is where they've all found themselves and Marcus eases open the bedroom door and slips back inside, closing it gently behind him. Dan won't have fallen back asleep, not now, but just in case he doesn't want to risk waking him.

As he expected, though, the bedside lamp is still on and Marcus rubs his hands over a tired face, then looks to Dan.

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Dan's managed to at least return to the bed, though he sits with his back against the headboard, knees somewhat drawn up and his arms looping loosely around them. His eyes stare off just slightly as he expends the energy to keep from fully freaking out.

Most of that is spent keeping himself from shining, from hearing or seeing what's been happening outside the house. The drunken shouting, the crash of the glass, an angry man-- it's not anything Dan hasn't experienced or even done before, but that's the problem, isn't it?

There's pain, at the bottom of all of this, that Dan can empathize with, and come morning, maybe he will.

For now, he's forcing slow and even breaths, keeping himself separate from a situation so haphazardly primed to bring up the old bad stuff.

Crossing to the bed, sinking down beside Dan, all of that's easy. But Marcus has only ever known Dan sober and while he knows there's darkness in Dan's past, many reasons he quit drinking, knowing that isn't the same as having seen it or even understanding it. For a man who promised to abstain for most of his life -- and almost always kept that promise -- Grantaire's presence means something entirely different.

He's worried about Grantaire. He's worried about Neil. And now he's worried about Dan.

"I think Neil's calmed him down a little," he says as he reaches over to touch Dan, sliding a warm palm over his shoulder. "You're alright, love."

Dan doesn't hesitate.

He practically crawls into Marcus's lap, swinging a leg over his hips and burying his face in Marcus's neck while he draws deep, ragged breath. His hands ball up at the hem of Marcus's shirt, and stay there while he lets himself find stillness and peace in the only place he ever truly had.

"I'm trying so hard not to feel it," he whispers, "but it's-- maybe if it was just the yelling, or the glass, or the booze. Swear i can fucking smell it, and I don't want-- doesn't make me want it."

He hadn't been sure if Dan would want the touch, didn't want to assume too much, but when Dan crawls onto him, Marcus's arm go around him, both hands smoothing down his back, a slow, gentle path he hopes is somewhat comforting. For a moment he's just quiet, letting Dan speak, trying to help relax him if he can.

"It's a lot," he says softly. "Even for those of us who can't feel things the way you can."

It's a lot of pain, a lot of sadness, and Marcus can't do anything about it for either of the men still outside. He can help Dan, though, even if it's only a little.

Dan needs the touch.

He only presses closer, eyes half-shut, and breathes, drawing the quiet and the security up over himself, pictures a bubble closing around them both. "I don't know their story, of course," he finally says, shifting the way his face has been pressed into the slope of Marcus's neck so that he can be heard. "But it's hard to shake the sense memory. Waking up to it, jerking awake because you know a certain tone."

Every part of himself wants to minimize the feelings, the way the situation affects him. It's not Jack Torrance out on the lawn, but that doesn't dissolve the unhappy cocktail of chemicals in his brain. But this isn't the place for that. "Surprised he hasn't been eaten by the creatures or zapped by the house," Dan mumbles, because he's going to let Marcus bring him through it, to the other side.

At that, Marcus laughs softly, and says, "I made sure to keep Trass inside." The wolf wouldn't have taken kindly to the intrusion, something they both know, and Marcus doesn't think Grantaire deserves having to stare down a large, angry wolf in his current state. Things are difficult enough as they are.

"And maybe he got lucky and missed hitting the house at the right angle," he continues. They also both know how much effort Sabrina has put into making sure the house is a safe place.

"He's hurting," he says after a moment, hands still moving. "I know it isn't an excuse, but that sort of hurt... well, it's hard to see past, I think."

"Cat's gonna snitch, though," Dan says, and he doesn't need to be a psychic to know it. "Might want damage control there." All the angry, worried knots are slowly untying in his chest, in the tension of his muscles as Marcus's hands pass over him.

"I know he's hurting," Dan says, huffing ruefully against Marcus's shoulder. "Wasn't ever the source of mine, but I know what that's like. The desire to self-destruct. In this case, I imagine, the desire to make someone watch you hurt yourself." He's more concerned about Neil than he'd thought he might be.

In an even quieter tone, sounding surprisingly young, he adds, "This is our home." And he lets that hold the multitude of thoughts all jumbled together.

"It is," Marcus says and he's quiet for a moment, knowing Dan means more than just the simplest form of those words. He has to take the time to properly respond and to acknowledge what Dan is really saying. How it feels, a little, like an intrusion into something they've built here.

"It's the first home I've ever had," he finally says. "And when Sabrina came, I wanted it to be a home for her, too. For you. For others when they need it. Right now it's Neil, another day it might be Kat or Molly or Sam. It... it's ours now. Mine and yours and Sabrina's. But it's theirs, too."

He frowns, just slightly, still stroking his hands over Dan's back. "Does that make sense? Am I saying this properly?"

Dan leans back just a little, so that he can press their foreheads together.

"Makes perfect sense," he answers, letting some of the tension in his tone bleed into the muted whispers of the kind of talk that happens late at night. "And I want them all to feel that too. IF what Neil, what any of them would need, is safe harbor here, they have it."

He exhales slowly, the quiet wrapping around him again, soothing. "It's the other thing, the jab of what feels like some of the worst shit, here. Always going to be hard for me. It's why I lived in what amounted to a fucking tower for so long."

"For what it's worth, I'll always be here, too."

Marcus is sure they both know such a promise can't truly be made, not in the way he intends on making it. This place decides who gets to stay and who leaves and so what Marcus means is that for as long as he's able, this is where he'll be. He's choosing this home, this place, he's choosing Dan.

He tilts his head slightly and presses a kiss to Dan's temple. "I'll be here," he says. "And I'm an exorcist. The worst shit isn't getting in here."

"I trust you," Dan murmurs, which might not be the most comprehensive answer, but he's getting sleepy again despite himself, and it's the heart of the matter. "And I don't want to be anywhere else, ever."

There's more, that he's only getting an impression of, that he's barely remembering, that he thinks might be striking so many nerves; it's in the turning to drink, and what comes with that choice. It's nothing he wants to think about now, beyond a few pangs of sorrow, and he focuses instead on the warm, solid presence of Marcus.

"I know, love," he says softly. It feels good, being trusted, even if there are times when Marcus doesn't believe he deserves it. He's hurt so many people, turned his back on those who needed him and it's difficult to understand why anyone would want to trust him after that.

Dan does, though, and Marcus has vowed to be better for him. For Neil and Kat and Sabrina.

"We'll be just fine," he promises. "We're here together."