Title: Domesticity
Author: wildwordwomyn
Word Count: 475
Fandom/Pairing: Person of Interest slash featuring Reese/Finch
Rating: PG for a little angst and a little fluff
Author's Notes: None really. Just felt like writing this. What do you think?
Disclaimers/Warnings: No spoilers. I don't own or rent any of the people/places/things involved. Read at your own risk.
Summary: John and Harold come to an understanding.
There's something soothing about his fingertips tapping against the keyboard and the loud click of the buttons on the mouse. The library is large and quiet except for the steady sounds of Finch doing what he does best. The man gathers information like a computer, like the Machine, and yet he is more human than John feels on any given day.
"I'm sorry, Finch," he says unexpectedly, surprising them both. He's been staring out of a window on the opposite side of the room, gathering his own information.
He can tell by the slight hesitation the smaller man takes before lifting his hands away from the keyboard that he's already putting his walls up. "What for, Mr. Reese?"
"Threatening you when we first met," John explains in his soft voice. He carries on before his courage can leave him. "My actions that day gave you every reason not to trust me." He turns around, pinning Finch with a sharp gaze. When Finch blinks he purposely gentles his expression.
Finch drops his eyes to one of his monitors, then raises his head again. John sighs internally. He's been hoping to tame the man. To prove that he will never risk hurting him. But the only thing he's accomplished so far with his flirting and banter is to convince the genius that he's always playing games with him. He's not for once. Maybe for the first time ever.
John can see the gears turning in his head, trying to find the vaguest response possible. "It's in the past, Mr. Reese," is what he comes up with. Which is extremely dismissive and frustrating for someone attempting to have a conversation.
"But it's not, is it?" he counters, noting how Finch's bright blue eyes widen just a bit. "Not for you."
He takes a step closer to the desk where Finch sits. The other man swallows audibly, giving his fear away. John knows from experience that it isn't just a fear of being physically hurt. He feels a sudden, surprisingly fierce urge to reach out to Finch. To show he can be trusted with anything Finch has to offer. With everything...
"I wish you would let me in... " The whisper does nothing to hide the need he can't contain.
The ex-CIA agent's right hand rises of its own accord, cupping Finch's cheek tenderly. When he realizes what he's doing John makes a move to pull back but Finch presses against his hand. The action is entirely involuntarily. John doesn't blame the man for letting his eyelids shutter. This moment, so long in coming, is too fragile a thing. If either speak it will be lost, and John has worked too hard to allow that to happen. Instead he closes his own eyes as the warmth of Finch's skin anchors him.
The hunger for more can wait another day.
The End