So this is, in theory, part of a larger 'verse in which Carter and Finch domesticate ze wild Reese, because I can feel Trauma Week coming on and this fandom needs more fluff.
So here, have five times Reese and Carter act like a sort-of family unit, watch Days of our Lives, and never sleep at three in the morning.
The title comes from the If You Give a books, which are still adorable, even thirteen years after first reading them.
Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest :)
If You Give a Reese a Reason (he'll never leave your house)
I. "You didn't have to, you know," Carter says, blinking at her now full (and alphabetized, that's weird) pantry.
Reese makes a vague sound from her couch. She isn't fluent in Socially Stunted yet, but she thinks he means something along the lines of "I ate all your food and feel bad, and my partner's richer than God, so here, have a year's worth of cereal and ramen noodles.
Carter doesn't even like ramen. Taylor does, though, and Reese does too.
She narrows her eyes at the implication, but pulls a pack out of the pantry anyway.
"Long day?"
"Not really," Reese says. She translates that to "yes, please distract me," and Carter rolls her eyes.
It's funny how things turn out, sometimes.
When the noodles are done, she pours them into a bowl and pops herself some popcorn, wanders into the living room, and kicks Reese's feet off the ottoman.
"We're watching Days of our Lives," she tells him, handing him the ramen bowl. "No buts."
"What do I need to know?" he says, hiding a laugh in his voice.
"Sophia is Greg's wife and Samantha's evil twin, and Horatio isn't really Horatio, he's a clone."
"Got it," Reese says, perfectly deadpan, but he cracks a grin when she laughs.
"Shut up," she says, grinning, and settles in beside him.
II. "Jesus," she hisses, dropping her gun and slapping a hand to her face. "It's three in the morning, what the hell are you doing—"
"Fixing your stove?" Reese says, eyeing her gun.
"At three in the morning?"
"I didn't think I'd wake you," he mutters, which is probably Assassin for "no one hears me coming, ever," but fuck this, it's three in the morning and she can barely understand English, let alone Reese-ese.
Carter sighs. "That's nice of you, really, but three AM, Reese. Normal people like sleeping at three AM."
He smiles at her, the asshole. He knows she's not mad at him, not really. She'd rather have him in her house making noise at three in the morning that have him out wandering the streets anyway. At least here he's safe.
Carter sighs again. "Want some coffee?" she asks, and he nods.
They pass the rest of the night like old friends, and in the morning, her oven works perfectly, and Taylor doesn't even make a smart comment when he finds his mom and another man together in the kitchen.
III. "You taught my son karate?"
"Krav Maga, actually," Reese says from her couch. The opening theme of Days of our Lives plays loudly in the background.
Aha, there's the headache she's been missing all week. Asshole. "Why did you teach my son Krav Maga? He broke another kid's arm!"
"He broke Anton Nicolson's arm," the asshole on her couch corrects. In Socially Stunted, this probably means that Anton deserved it, and well, he kind of did, Taylor's been complaining about him for a month now, but still.
"You," she says. This time she's going to shoot him and she means it—
"He's a good kid," Reese mutters, meeting her eyes. "And Anton is a bully."
Roughly translated, this means "I want Taylor to be safe," and the anger just drains right out of her.
"You're giving him a talk about when and where to fight and all that samurai bullshit later," she says, flopping down beside him and kicking his feet off the ottoman.
"Sounds fair." His eyes are laughing. Asshole. She can't help but smile, though, and lean into him, soaking in the familiarity that's grown these last few months, that consists of soap operas and alphabetized cereal and ramen noodles and sometimes even dinners with her and Taylor, when she can get him to stay.
Then, she sits straight up so fast her back cracks. "Don't you dare teach him how to kill people with a paperclip," she hisses, and Reese winces.
He blinks, eyes darting to the door.
"Oh you did not."
IV. "It's three in the fucking morning," she mutters, balling up an old t-shirt and pressing it to Reese's chest.
He chokes out a laugh and she smacks his forehead.
"Sit and stay that way," she orders, "before you bleed out on my damn couch."
"Not gonna bleed out," he says thickly. "'m fine."
She stares at him for a second, and then goes back to stuffing gauze and cotton balls into a particularly nasty cut. "Jesus," she says. "The hell did they stick you with, a sword?"
"Knife," he mutters.
She raises her eyebrows.
"It was a big knife," he says defensively.
"Uh huh." Her medic skills are patchy at best. Reese currently looks like a very pale version of himself, and there's an awkward, lumpy mess taped to his chest, but whatever, he's alive and not bleeding all over her furniture.
Carter sighs, scrubbing at her face. "You're an idiot," she mutters, and he hmms, which is either an agreement or a muffled swear. "But I'm glad you came here. You sure you don't need a doctor?"
"'m fine," he assures her, smiling slightly. "You did just fine."
V. "You don't have to, you know," she mumbles without opening her eyes.
She can feel him freeze, caught in the act, and his soft sigh catches her by surprise. "I didn't mean to wake you," he says.
"You never do," she mutters back, but it's affectionate, even at three in the fucking morning. "You don't have to stay, if you don't want to."
Reese sighs again and shifts, leaning out of bed.
"But you don't have to go, either."
"Carter," he says. "Joss. I—"
She rolls over and looks him straight in the eye, reaching out to touch his cheek in the dark. "You can stay."
He hesitates, she can see it. He fights with himself. The pull of being alone it strong. He's been alone for a long time and he's good at it, she thinks. He's used to it, it's comfortable.
But the pull of this, of coffee in the morning, ramen noodles at night, teaching Taylor some weird martial art shit, fixing her shitty oven, collapsing next to her in the couch and not crying at Days of our Lives, the pull of this is strong too.
She can't change his mind or make him do anything he doesn't want to do.
But she can wait, and she does.
Finally, after a long minute, he settles back down beside her, warm and solid.
She smiles. "Good night," she mutters. "And stop waking me up at three in the morning."
"No promises," he says, and she feels him laughing into her shoulder.
Carter smiles, and drifts back to sleep.