Characters: Finch/Reese and Bear
Word Count: 2,047
Summary: John likes ties.
John walked into The Library and a small smile played on his lips as he looked at Finch. Finch was asleep, his head resting on his desk. John would never admit it to anyone, but Finch looked downright adorable. His glasses were sitting awkwardly on his face. His hair was sticking up all over the place, but that had less to do with bed head and more to do with Finch head.
He looked at Finch for several more moments and then spoke.
'Morning, Finch,' John said. Finch opened his eyes and grimaced. He slowly lifted his head and sat up. He adjusted his glasses. His tie was crooked and without even thinking John reached over and straightened it. The tie was burgundy with dark blue diamonds.
The shirt underneath was white. John hand brushed against Finch's shirt, the fabric was surprisingly soft.
John was so close that he caught a whiff of Finch's scent; an icy, cool smell. John didn't know that icy could have a scent, but he had learned that with Finch all things were possible.
He had to resist the urge to breathe deeply, it would just make things awkward and possibly lead to questions John didn't want to answer.
The stood close and John stared into Finch's eyes. Finch stared back. It felt uncomfortable, John was convinced that Finch could see all the secrets he kept hidden as if they were written in computer code, but John wasn't going to be the first to look away. That would be a sign of guilt.
The moment was broken when Finch spoke. 'Thank you, Mr. Reese.'
John noticed the pink in Finch's cheeks. 'Don't mention it. Any luck with the new number?'
'Of course. I believe I have found a prudent piece of information...'
John sat down and let Finch's words wash over him. He put away the memory of Finch sleeping and everything that had just happened, goodness knew he had had lots of practice, there was work to be done.
John was dressed as a waiter and was surround by white. White roses sat on white tables covered with white table clothes. He was watching a bride and groom dance in the center of the room.
He had saved the bride from a murderous groomsmen and no one would ever know.
The bride had long blond hair and as she was spun around it flew around like a golden bird. For a moment he pictured Jessica and himself dancing on their wedding day. He felt a lump in his throat. Time healing all wounds was crap; some wounds would always be raw and bleeding.
'Are you there, Mr. Reese?' Finch said.
'Yeah. I'm here.'
'I take it everything went well?'
'Yep. I'm on my way to The Library.'
John stepped out of the wedding reception and on to the street. He loosened his tie and took a deep breath. Memories of Jessica ran through his mind.
He got into his car and drove away. Buildings flew past his window. It was dark and the city was full of light.
He thought about getting a drink, he craved the burn of Jack Daniels, but decided against it. There was no way in hell he was going to go down that twisted road.
He drove through the city, parked his car and walked into The Library. Bear came up to John. John reached down and ran his fingers through soft fur. After the day he had had he needed any comfort he could get. He had saved the number. The bride reminded him of Jessica and what could have been. If only he had been brave enough to ask her to stay.
Bear dropped a chewed tennis ball at his feet and John threw it. The ball bounced as Bear ran after it. Papers strewn across the floor, the remnants of long forgotten books, crinkled under his paws.
He walked up the stairs and found Finch staring at a computer. Finch was in profile, his skin lit be computer light. He reminded John of a painting.
He turned to John. 'Can I help you with something?'
John swallowed. He did indeed need something for Finch, but he didn't know how to ask.
He took a deep breath. For better or worse things were about to change. He hoped for better.
'Would you like to have dinner with me?'
Finch's eyes went wide. 'I beg your pardon?'
'I would like to have dinner with you.'
Finch took off his glasses and cleaned them with his pocket square. 'I see. Would it be a romantic dinner?'
'If that's what you want.'
'Why are you asking me now?'
John shrugged. That was indeed the question. He suddenly felt tired.
'I guess I just wanted to take a chance. I missed my chance with Jessica and I'm too damn old to have more regrets.'
Harold walked up to John and squeezed his shoulder. 'I would like to go on a date with you.'
'Thanks,' John said as he moved his hand up to Harold's and touched his hand. His skin was warm. 'This isn't a pity date, is it?'
John leaned forward and brushed his lips against Harold's cheek. It was a start.
John arrived home that night. He went to his bedroom and pulled a yellow legal pad and an ink pen from his side table.
He sat down and tapped the pad with his pen. If he was going to go on a date he wanted to plan it out, he thought Harold might like that, but he didn't really know where to start. He hadn't gone out on a date in years.
He stared down at the pad, the blank yellow paper seemed to be mocking him. He shoved the paper and pen back in the drawer and unbuttoned his shirt. He slipped out of his shirt and laid down on his bed.
The sheets were soft against his skin and his pillow was just the right size for his head. He breath deeply and closed his eyes.
Maybe a good night sleep would help.
John walked into The Library, he was carrying boxes of take-out. Bear ran up to him and sniffed the boxes.
'No, that's not for you. Not unless you like sweet and sour chicken.'
Bear tilted his head and John laughed.
He stopped laughing when Finch came down the stairs.
'Hey, I thought you might want something to eat,' John said as he lifted the take-out boxes.
'Of course. I'm feeling a bit peckish.'
John followed Harold to an wooden table that sat against one wall. It was gouged and scarred.
They ate from the boxes in silent. It was a comfortable silent born of familiarity. John thought that was a little strange; he barely knew anything about Harold.
After they ate, John noticed that Harold had a drop of sauce stuck to the corner of his mouth. He reached out and rubbed it away with his thumb. Harold shuddered.
'Was this our date?' Harold asked.
'I guess, unless you wanted to do something else.'
'No. This was a fine date, I think it's the company that makes the date. I enjoy your company.'
'Same here. Do you kiss on the first date?'
Harold grinned and John gasped. The smile lit up his whole face. 'Not usually, but I'll be willing to make an exception.'
Now it was John turn to grin. Harold took off his glasses and they leaned towards each other.
Their lips met. The kiss started out almost chaste and quickly turned sloppy. Now that John could release all his feelings he wasn't holding back. Neither was Harold. John reached up and kneaded Harold's shoulders. Harold combed his fingers through John's hair.
John brushed his tongue against Harold's lips and his mouth opened.
They're tongues brushed against each other and John felt himself harden.
After several moments they broke their kiss. They were both panting. John rested his head on Harold's shoulder. John shifted in his seat, his hardness was pressing against his pants.
John looked down and noticed the bulge in Harold's pants.
John gestured to Harold's crouch. 'Want some help with that?'
'Really? Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?'
'If you think I'm suggesting that I'll give you a blow job, than yeah.'
'Oh my. I think I would enjoy that very much.'
'You're the boss,' John said jokingly.'
'No I'm not. Not here.'
John lifted his head and looked into Harold's eyes. He looked concerned.
'Does it really bother you?'
'Of course. I don't want to take advantage of my position.'
John brushed his fingers against Harold's cheek. 'It's okay. I'm a big boy and you don't have to worry about taking advantage of me.'
'Thank you for that.'
'No problem. Now, how about I take care of your other problem?'
'Of course. Is there anything I should do?'
He thought about it. He wanted to strip Harold out of that suit and kiss every bit of skin he saw, but judging by the hard-ons they were both sporting there was no time that. John did have an idea though.
'Could you stand up and take off your pants and underwear?'
Harold stood up and slid down his dark pants and white boxers. His cock was long and thin, the tip was a deep red. His balls were covered with dark. John's mouth watered.
John got out if his chair and knelt in front of Harold. The butterflies in his stomach were putting on a three-ring circus; he had never given a blow-job, but he had been on the receiving end of a few. He decided to start by doing what he liked and going from there.
He lifted up Harold's hard cock and licked his balls. He sucked each one into his mouth and swirled his tongue around them. Above him Harold groaned, his hands gripped John's hair gently.
After several moments, John released Harold's ball and moved to the hard cock in front of him. He experimentally licked at the tip. Harold moaned and John just grinned. He wrapped his lips around the head and swirled his tongue around it. He slid his mouth down the shaft, stopping when he felt like he was going to choke.
Again and again he slid his mouth up and down. His own cock was hard and he reached down and opened his pants, freeing his cock.
He backed off Harold's cock and sucked on the head. As he sucked on Harold's cock, he jerked off. Because he had no lube he kept his grip light, but it was just enough friction.
With one hard suck, Harold cried out and came in John's mouth.
John sucked down the salty come. He rubbed his thumb against the head of his own cock and came in his hand.
John let go of Harold's soft cock and rested his head on Harold's pale thigh.
'Was it good for you?' John asked with a smirk.
'Indeed. Would you like to share my bed tonight.'
John looked up at Harold. His cheeks were pink, his blue eyes sparkled.
'Of course. Just give a minute.'
John stood up on shaky legs. He pulled Harold's pants and underwear up, sliding them up Harold's legs and zipped him up. He then zipped himself up.
Together they walked out of The Library and walked a few blocks to Harold's apartment. It was small, but homey. The walls were painted a deep green that matched the plush carpet.
Walking to Harold's bedroom, John noticed the lack of personal pictures. Even in his apartment Harold was private.
Once in the room Harold turned on the light and they took off their clothes and climbed into bed. John rubbed his hands against Harold's warm skin until they both fell asleep.
In the morning John woke up in an empty bed. He got up and walked through the apartment. Harold was siting in a black leather reclining chair reading a book. When he saw John he grinned and stood up.
Harold's tie was loosened and John reached out and straightened it.
Harold smiled at him and they kissed.
John might not wear ties, but he was beginning to love them.