Absence

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Reese listened to his lover's deep, slow breathing as he lay nestled against his chest, simply appreciating the warmth and intimacy they now shared. He had not felt this way in years. He had not allowed himself to fall in love with anybody since he had left Jessica to serve his grief-stricken country; he had not expected to ever fall in love again since she had died; and yet, here he was – madly in love with a reclusive billionaire who still kept secrets from him. The secrets no longer mattered, though, because he knew what was in Finch's heart. He was a good man and kind, who had risked everything to rescue Reese. That alone told him all he ever needed to know about the mysterious genius.

He glanced out the window to confirm that the newly installed traffic camera was still trained on them, watching them with its unblinking eye. Reese wondered what the Machine made of their first sexual encounter. Did it see Reese as threatening or as fulfilling Finch's natural needs? As a competitor or as a caregiver? He wasn't sure if the Machine could actually feel any emotions, let alone anything so complex as jealousy, but he was fairly certain it was capable of analyzing what had just transpired between the two men. It was far more meaningful and momentous than a simple exchange of words CENSORED. He also didn't know if the Machine approved or disapproved of their new relationship, and – in the event it did not – what, if anything, it was capable of doing to discourage their behavior.

Since he could not find any answers about the Machine at the moment, Reese decided to focus on caring for Finch. That meant slipping out of bed without jostling the other man and preparing some breakfast. He hadn't used his kitchen to cook for somebody else yet, but he had bought a wide range of groceries yesterday in anticipation of it. He intended to keep Finch safe, comfortable, and content in his apartment for as long as he could. This space, which Finch himself had prepared to be a haven of rest and security for Reese, would now serve as a house of healing for him as well.

Finch awoke to the smell and sound of bacon sizzling on a griddle, which made hunger the foremost need in his still-hazy mind. Grabbing his glasses, he found the note Reese had left him earlier but deduced that Reese was already back, cooking, in the kitchen. He pulled on the navy-blue robe he had borrowed the night before over his gaudy pajamas before shuffling out to the kitchen in bare feet.

"Something smells good," he remarked as he peeked around the corner.

"That would be me," Reese countered with a tiny smirk, glancing up at Finch. "But you're gonna have to eat some breakfast before you get to go at me. I hope you like potato pancakes."

"Adore them," Finch deadpanned. However, he couldn't completely stifle his grin at the incongruous sight of Reese – assassin extraordinaire – fixing breakfast in his loud, dragon-patterned silk pajamas. He watched as Reese removed the strips of bacon and poured an unappetizing glop of batter onto the griddle; then he decided to answer the call of nature and wash up before breakfast. Finch didn't shave, though, since he knew it would be awkward with his hand still bandaged. He hoped his stubble wouldn't be a turn-off to Reese, who often sported a salt-and-pepper growth due to long stakeouts but somehow managed to make it look sexy.

"My, what a spread," Finch commented at the steaming plates of food Reese had set out on the table by the couch.

"We can save the leftovers for later," Reese replied. "If we have any."

"Just when my waistline was beginning to shrink," Finch mumbled while helping himself to a generous serving of potato pancakes. Having adopted a hunger strike while in Root's custody, everything tasted more flavorful than usual to him. He was so engrossed in his meal, in fact, that he didn't notice Reese was scarcely touching his food – he was simply watching Finch eat, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

"Is something the matter?" Finch asked, feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny.

"No. Nothing is wrong," Reese assured him, then broke into a breathtaking, genuine smile. "Everything is just... perfect."

Finch was caught off-guard when Reese leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his grizzled cheek.

"I missed you," Reese whispered into his ear, his voice husky and laden with desire. "I'm just... so glad to have you back."

After swallowing hard, Finch managed to respond, "As am I."

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"Shall we, then?" Reese smiled as he stood and gestured at the large bed, its blankets still rumpled and turned down as though awaiting them. Finch allowed him to escort him across the floor, slipping his injured hand around the arm Reese offered for support, then hoisted himself up onto the bed. Reese sat beside him on the edge and gazed down at him, warmth and love overflowing from his eyes.

"I love you so much, Harold," he began. "I want you so much, too... I need you to tell me what you're ready for. I don't want to push you too far too soon."

"I'm ready for... anything, John," Finch answered, returning a frank, forthright gaze. "I know I'm not young anymore, and you'll have to accommodate my injuries, but... I know you won't hurt me. So, whatever you want to do... I'm ready."

"Finch..."

Unable to contain himself, Reese bent over to smother Finch in rough, needy kisses. Their teeth clashed when Finch opened his mouth, but his lover quickly moved on to cover all of his skin with his hot tongue and nibbling lips. If he didn't care for Finch's stubble, he certainly didn't show it, and soon they were both panting and flushed. Reese drew back for a moment to look deep into Finch's eyes, then began unbuttoning his pajamas. Finch tried to reciprocate but his bandaged hand made him clumsy.

"You want me to take this off?" Reese asked, teasing.

"Yes. Very much," Finch informed him.

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A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I'm wrapping this story up with two chapters at once.