Characters: Reese/Finch and Fusco
Word Count: 1,693
Summary: Harold thinks that Professor Whistler and Detective Riley should date.
AN: slight spoilers for 4x3 (Wingman)
An1: Pervious chapters here on AO3
John sitting in an abandoned subway car, cleaning his gun. His fingers ran over smooth metal as the click of Harold's keyboard filled the air. Suddenly the sound stopped and John looked up. Harold was staring at him, he nervously licked his lips.
'Something wrong?' John asked.
'Not as such. It's just that I think we should date.'
John's eyes went wide. Harold couldn't possibly be saying what John thought he was saying. 'Come again?'
'Oh, dear. I meant that we shouldn't date per-say, but Professor Whistler and Detective Riley. That way we would have an excuse to be seen together by Samaritan.'
'Oh,' John said trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. Of course Harold didn't really want to date.
'That sounds good. Are you going to wine and dine me?' John said only half joking. Even a fake date with Harold would be better than nothing
'Of course. I thought we could go out for a nice dinner.'
John started cleaning his gun again. 'Sure. How about tomorrow?'
'That sounds wonderful.'
Once they worked out the details John went to his apartment (he refused to call it his home) and opened the door with a little difficultly because he was holding The Cat in his arms (according to Harold she wanted to go home with him).
Once inside the apartment he sat the cat down on his stained off-white carpet and watched as she sniffed around the apartment. After several moments he sat down on his lumpy couch and watched an old movie on tv.
His couch filled the length of one wall, it was covered in a dingy brown fabric and one of the springs stuck out of a hole. He thought it belonged either in a frat house or a landfill, but he didn't see the point of getting a better couch.
He got up and made his way to his small kitchen and looked into his refrigerator and saw that all he had was a box of baking soda and a container of old take-out. He grabbed the take out and went back to his living room.
Sitting on the couch he brought old Kung-Pow chicken to his mouth. As he ate, The Cat jumped on his lap and he gave her a piece of chicken.
He thought about his 'date'. All he knew was the Harold had made them reservations at a restaurant and that is was supposed to be their first date. After John was done eating he threw away the left-overs and went to bed. The mattress was lumpy and the blankets and sheets were starting to smell of dust (he really needed to do laundry more often).
He stared into the darkness until he was just about to fall asleep. As he fell asleep he longed for someone to share his bed with. He felt The Cat jump onto his bed and lay down on his legs, that wasn't really what he meant by sharing his bed with someone, he preferred someone human, but it would have to do.
The next morning, John woke up and went to work. The police station was abuzz with activity. Once at his desk, Fusco came up to him and dropped a batch of files onto his desk.
'Don't take the wrong way, but you look rough. Did you and Glasses have a spat,' Fusco said with a cocky grin.
John sighed. 'Gee, I don't know, Lionel. Considering I have a date with Harold tonight what do you think?'
'Very funny, smart-ass.'
John stood up and clasped Fusco on the shoulder. 'I'm not joking. In fact you introduced us. You're one great matchmaker.'
He just grinned when Fusco's eyes went wide and he sputtered.
Later that night, John was standing in front of his mirror. He was trying to decide what shirt to wear.
Even though it was a fake date he still wanted to look his best. It was like he said when he had to be Harold's Wren's date; if he was going to be seen with Harold he was going to have to up his game.
He held up a dark blue that was tight across his chest and a black shirt. He turned around and saw that The Cat was laying on his bed.
'What do you think?' he asked.
The Cat jumped off the bed and pawed at John's left leg.
'The blue one it is then.'
He went to the restaurant and was seated at a table, across from Harold. The table was covered with a clean white table cloth and there were two unlit candles sitting in the center, suddenly he felt underdressed in his dark dress shirt and dark dress pants.
He couldn't help but notice that Harold was wearing a dark suit, red tie and a light blue dress shirt.
'Hello, Detective,' Harold said.
'Please, call me John. May I call you Harold?'
'I'd like that very much.'
John sat down and was handed a menu. 'I've heard you're a professor, that must be interesting.'
'It is. I'm sure it's not nearly as exciting as being a police detective.'
'You would think so but there is a lot of boring paperwork. Do you have any pets?' John had very little experience with dating, but he knew you always ask your date about them self.
'I do. I have a dog named Bear. Would you like to see pictures of him?'
Harold pulled out a iPad and pulled up some pictures and handed it to John. Each picture was a photo of Bear. Some photos were Bear running around a park, others were Bear sleeping on (what John could guess) was Professor Whistler's bed.
As he looked at the pictures he couldn't help but smile. He had no idea Harold had so many pictures of Bear, but it suited the professor.
John handed the iPad back. 'Cute.'
'Thank you, but I'm sure Bear would prefer to be called handsome.'
'Did you pick him out at a pet store?' John asked even though he already knew the answer.
'No, he was given to me by a friend.'
John took a sip of water. 'Sounds like a good friend.'
'He is. Do you have any pets?' Harold asked as he took a sip of water from the glass by his hand.
'I have a cat that adopted me,' John said. He still couldn't get over the fact that Harold called him a good friend. He knew that Harold was playing a part, but he hoped there was a bit of truth to it. Most of John's friends were dead.
They spent the rest of their 'date' talking about their fake jobs and fake lives. It was nice to be a 'normal' person for a change, even if it was fake. It might have had something to do with the two glasses of wine John had had, but it was comfortable.
Near the end of dinner their waiter lit the candles on the table and Harold was bathed in orange fire lit. Then a chocolate cake was sat in front of John. He took a bite a savored the rich sweet taste.
'Would you like some cake?' John asked as he cut a piece with his fork and held it out to Harold.
John leaned forward and feed Harold a piece of cake.
Harold's tongue came out and licked his lips. Just seeing that pink tongue, John felt himself harden; he had fantasied about all the wicked things that tongue could do to him.
He lifted his wine glass and gulped down what was left in the bottom of the glass. Now was not the time to have inappropriate thoughts about his boss.
After several minutes they got up to leave. They stepped outside and John breathed deeply the cool night air, trying to clear his head.
'Do you live far from here?' Harold asked even though they both knew the answer.
The sound of Harold's voice was grounding.
'Good. Would you like me to walk with you. You had quite a large amount of alcohol and I would feel terrible if something happened to you.'
John pulled his coat closer. 'You don't have to.'
'It would be my pleasure.'
They walked close. John wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come, he was having enough trouble just putting one foot in front of the other.
He felt Harold take his hand and intertwine their fingers. He kept telling himself that Harold was only holding his hand because they were supposed to be on a date, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the warmth of Harold's skin.
All too soon they arrived at John apartment.
Harold stood next to John and leaned in for a kiss. John gently pushed Harold away. 'I can't do this.'
'Oh, dear... I... I didn't mean to offend you,' Harold stammered.
John opened the door. 'We need to talk about this inside.'
They stepped into the apartment and John turned around to close the door.
'Mr. Reese? I thought the kiss was just part of the charade.'
He let out a weak laugh as he continued to stare at the door, if he didn't look at Harold he wouldn't be able to see his disgust. 'That's the problem. It's fake and I want a kiss from Harold Finch, not Harold Whistler.'
He felt Harold's hand grip his shoulder. 'John. Look at me.'
John turned around and looked at Harold. He looked surprised, but not disgusted. 'I want to kiss you too. I... I... have strong feelings for you.'
'Why didn't you say anything?'
'I thought you didn't feel the same. I have trouble expressing romantic feelings.'
John let out a laugh. This time it wasn't weak, but a strong laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Turns out they were both bad at relationships.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Harold's. Harold's hands came up and combed through John's hair as he deepened the kiss.
They both might have been bad about talking about their feelings, but some things didn't need words.