Please R&R or I lose inspiration 3


Chapter 1: Lonewolf

It was a normal morning, sitting in front of the numerous computer monitors, waiting for a new Number to be presented. That was, until, Finch's phone went off, vibrating a bit across the desk. He reached for it casually, still typing with one hand to sort out the finer details of a new alias he was constructing for Reese. When he flipped the small phone open, his head cocked to the side and confusion etched itself across his face. He read the text message to himself once, then aloud to verify what it read.

From: Reese

Subject: Come pick me up.

It was short and to the point, like Reese usually conveyed his messages, but this had a certain air about it. It was demanding; not to say Reese wasn't a dominant figure and pushy with Finch sometimes, but this was a command, one Finch assumed he had to obey. He shoved the phone into his beige pants, rose up on his tired legs, and threw his overcoat over his shoulders. He hobbled down to the ground floor and went out the back entrance, reminding himself to take his own car. He slid into the off silver 1992 Buick Century he had parked a few blocks away and planned a route to Reese's loft that required a bit of 'out of the way' turns and double backs. This car was not his favorite due to the sauna-like interior it produced, but it had a certain appeal in the way the seats supported his sore body just the right way. He didn't mind it at all after the a/c cooled the small rectangular space off and settled on the thought of a long, peaceful car ride. Reese would just have to wait, considering he never sent a follow-up text to express any certain urgency in the matter.

The ride was about an hour long, not as long as Finch would have liked to have been sitting, even in the comfortable car seat, but enough to get his point across that he wasn't one to be taking orders. He went up to the third floor of the building and limped along the wall, refusing to take its support as his right side throbbed but allowing the option if necessary. He reached Reese's door and gave the knob a turn. Surprisingly, it was unlocked. His body tensed and he eased the door open with a nearly audible gulp. What if that text wasn't from Reese, but someone who was after them? He peeked in the room, seeing no signs of struggle, which he knew Reese would put up if he was being attacked.

"Up here," John's voice rang out in the large, empty room from above. He sounded annoyed with a bit of anger.

Finch slipped inside and locked the door behind him. He tried his best to crane his head upwards, looking at the open, second floor of the loft. Reese was pacing on that platform, back and forth very restlessly. Finch could hardly tell why since he couldn't get a good look that high up because of his neck injury. But, after a while of Finch struggling, trying to elevate his gaze and sizing up the stairs to the second floor, Reese sighed and made a noise deep in his throat like a dog did when in submission. The ex-operative moved towards the stairs and took each step slowly, his usually flawless gait replaced by heavy, dreadful steps.

Reese reached the bottom step, hands in his suit pockets, head turned down and his back slouched. It looked as if he tried to tuck the white dress shirt into his unbelted pants but tore it back out in frustration. The shirt wasn't even buttoned fully, leaving a long, deep triangle of tanned skin down the crease of Reese's chest and nearly to his navel. Finch limped over to him and lifted his employee's head by tilting his chin back. By what he saw, he wasn't amused.

"What the hell is this?" He nearly shouted at Reese, taking a step back from the sight.

Reese shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head up to show the soft twitch of a pair of grizzled wolf ears that rested in his unruly bedhead hair. His usually hard, steely blue eyes were a light shade of gray. He also gave a slight turn of his hips, showing the wave of plush, salt and pepper tail that hung limp down to the back of his knees.

"This isn't a funny joke, Mr. Reese. Take those off and clean yourself up." Finch turned after that brief scolding and headed for the door, a small bit of anger boiling inside him. Reese teased him, daily, but this was taking it too far.

Before Finch could reach the door, he was snagged by the upper arm and dragged deeper into the room. Reese led him back to the bed, nearly tossing him to it. He sat where he was tossed and reset his glasses, a hard glare set behind them. He was not finding this funny at all, and Reese was being a bit too domineering this morning for his liking.

Reese gave a sigh as he stood before Finch and turned away from the bed, leaving his back to Finch. The once limp tail moved, gave a swish. Finch was bemused, considering how he previously thought it was a simple toy. He reached out and gave it a generous squeeze, sending a jolt through Reese's body and making him jump with a low howl.

"You're not kidding?" Finch shot a glace up at Reese who was looking beggingly over his shoulder.

Reese moved the tail a bit more willingly, wrapping half of it around Finch's forearm. From over his shoulder he tilted his head up, closing his eyes to inhale slowly. His worried features softened to a bright smile. He turned to face Finch, denying the bewildered man any more time to fondle his fluffy appendage.

"Halston cologne. Citrusy," Reese added as a confirmation of his enhanced olfactory senses, swiping his nose with his thumb before he straightened his back and folded his arms across his chest.

"I don't understand. This only happens, rarely, in teenagers with extremely high levels of hormones. It used to be frequent but there is hardly a case in this age. Man has nearly lost that trait entirely. How... even so, why would it show so late? Wait, Mr. Reese, did you have any symptoms?" Finch turned his head up, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"What symptoms, Finch? I didn't even know what happened. God forbid I was cursed for something by one of the damned Numbers that had a vendetta. You know you send me into 'forgotten' neighborhoods most of the time, right?" Reese took a breath and lowered his head, rolling it to the sides and back until his joints relaxed. "What are the symptoms?"

Finch's pale eyes rolled up to the right side of his vision and his lips moved silently, recalling all the information he had on this strange abnormality.

"Mr. Reese, the most prominent symptom that all of the 'patients', so to say, had was, bear with me, being love-struck. Which is why it was found in teenagers with high levels of hormones. Adults learned to control it and were never as dumbfounded by love as teenagers. Are you in love, Mr. Reese?" Finch inquired quietly while fixing his glasses and giving Reese an endearing look. That had to be the most personal question Finch ever asked Reese. He clearly didn't hear himself ask it because Finch would never dare to cross that invisible line and impeach on Reese's personal life. These men never dug deeper into each others lives than what was on paper and in files.

"I... Finch," Reese started, pausing to rest his head in his hand and shake it back and forth. His voice came off a bit deeper as he looked up to the intrigued man sitting on the edge of his bed and answered with, "Any other symptoms?"

Finch chuckled and gave a soft smile, a very rare happening that was expressed with true feelings behind it. "Mr. Reese, are you embarrassed perhaps? I won't stalk her, or knock on her front door like someone I know," he raised an eyebrow to the half wolf operative.

Reese's nose flared as he groaned. He took a step towards Finch, and the computer engineer reared against the bed with a sudden, faint fear in his eyes as he was towered over by the half beast. Reese's jaw clenched multiple times as he hovered over his boss attempting to control the obvious feelings that were taking over his body. He thrust both hands into the mattress by Finch's head and stared into the pale blue eyes. He didn't have to see it; he could smellthe fear coming off this mask-wearing man.

"Maybe I am in love. Do you really want to know with whom, Finch?" Reese lowered his head closer, bringing their faces just inches apart. Finch's lips parted, practically begging to be taken in a kiss.

Just as Reese bent his head to take his prey, Finch jumped up, bashing their heads together. Reese stumbled back, not expecting any sort of brutal force to come from the man he rightfully refused to let do simple recon field work. A verbal assault should have followed, and Reese turned his fuzzy ears down expecting it; but it never came. He glanced up to see Finch fumbling to retrieve his phone from his pocket. His boss flipped the phone open and his features settled.

"Another Number," he gave in a pleased sigh.

Reese growled lowly in his throat, running his hand back through his hair. As he did, he noticed his new ears shrinking to little nubs then vanishing completely. He turned in place, trying to see his tail, which was gone. His urges for Finch had been stifled by work.

"Work calls, Mr. Reese. Well, at least I can use you in public now. You should wear a hat, just in case you can't keep your 'emotions' under control." Finch pushed his phone back inside his pocket and got up, smoothing out his three piece suit.

Reese took a deep breath as he thought about the Machine and their profession; how it took Finch further and further away from him, setting up a barrier that was almost impossible to break. He felt his eyes shift as well as his body, sprouting the ears and tail, his eyes fading to a foggy gray color with small hint of blue left.

Finch reached out as Reese went through the transformation. He reached high to run his hands through the grizzled hair and to feel the taut wolf ears.

Reese flinched away, shocked by the sudden contact his reclusive boss was giving him. But, something in him wanted to nuzzle that feel, and he did, closing his eyes and tilting his head against the gentle but firm hand. A soft purr rose in his throat and left in an escaping breath. The hand in his hair quickly withdrew though, making him keen in disappointment.

"That's what I mean, Mr. Reese. We should look further into this on the road. I'll text you the address once I get back to the library. Come, clean yourself up."

"No. Just, go to the library. I don't feel like listening you talk about how I dress today." Reese waved his hand towards the door, trying to calm his body.

Finch stood still, still soaking in this abrasive side of Reese. He nodded, though, and limped to the door with his unique gait. He paused as he grabbed the doorknob but didn't turn back. He vanished into the hall and the door practically slammed itself.

Reese flinched at the noise of it slamming that seemed the utmost louder than usual. Oh, yeah, he had a canine's hearing now. He took a moment to let this soak in. He was part wolf now, or always was but it was dormant within him. The thought of it arising due to his roaring hormones almost made him laugh. And, the fact that he summoned the cause of his lust to his loft when he was in that state was even funnier. He had nearly pounced on Finch. Finch... that man led to trouble. It was hard enough to avoid the topic of the Machine and why they help people. Now he would have to work out an excuse for his uncontrollable appearance.

The first task was masking the tail and ears if they would come out on the job. He went to his sparse closet and pushed the uniform suits aside. He dropped to his knees and moved a single box of light firearms and knives aside. There, in the back corner, he found what he was searching for. He sat back and flipped the hat over in his fingers. The dust filtered off and left the black of the fedora bare. It was classic with a single deep blue strip of fabric wrapped around the base. The old fashioned styling made Reese smile.

He pulled himself up and situated the hat on his head, shifting it back and forth until it partially hid his right eye with a shadow and fully hid his ears which were shrinking with the fading thought of Finch and work. He brushed his clothes out but left his shirt loose and untucked. He skipped the blazer and threw his overcoat on, happy it was long enough to hide the smaller version of his tail when he wasn't excited. He slipped his shoes on and hooked the Bluetooth onto his ear. While fixing his gun into his waistband and hiding his stolen badge in his back pocket with his wallet, he answered the perfectly timed call from Finch. After accepting it, he got a text.

The Number was a young girl in a foster family, 11 years old. Her current family address was in the opposite direction from the library, which Reese never liked because he had to distance himself from Finch. But, on account of what was happening today, he didn't particularly mind as much. With work on his mind and his furry half hiding, Reese settled into his normal cycle: Focus, stay alert, listen to his 'keeper', save the innocent at all costs, and most likely break some laws.

On the way out of his loft, he pressed the button on his Bluetooth and quirked a half smile.

"What have you got for me, Finch?"