Person of Interest (Season 3): Domestic Intimacy #10: Flea Market

A/N: Harold and John head to a flea market for some collectibles.

John remembered Harold telling him about the things he collected: 180 gram vinyl, rare books, and xerox altos. He'd had to look up the last one. Apparently it was an early prototype computer or something. He wondered if they would find any of these things at the flea market Harold had dragged him to.

He also wondered if he would find anyone he could talk weapons shop to, maybe even purchase a few things. Or maybe cars or motorcycles.

Harold made a beeline for the computer section, and began pouring over bins of computer parts John knew almost nothing about: capacitors, resistors, and even some harder to find items like ancient radio equipment that must have dated back to World War I. While John was good with computers and technology, he would never be on Harold's level. So it was no surprise when Harold pulled a tote bag from his jacket pocket and began filling it with random items. When it began to drag on the ground, John gently took it from him and held it open so he could add more items to it.

That was when he saw the booth on the other side of the market when the right people shifted. He saw tables upon tables littered with what looked like alternators, vintage speed shifters, and other car parts both old and new. His legs itched to walk over there. Maybe in his spare time he could put together the sports car of his dreams.

Right. What spare time? The numbers didn't stop coming. Though they had gotten a reprieve that afternoon, which was why he was holding a second tote bag for Harold and following along like the dutiful husband he probably was, even without the official marriage licence. Not that he was complaining. He would do anything for Harold after all, even carry his bags for him.

"I'm going to be busy putting all of this together this week," Harold said, once he'd paid for the items. No Xerox Altos this time, it seemed. "Did you want to look at anything while we're here? You could find something to occupy yourself in what little downtime we have. The car section is over that way."

Trust Harold to know what was on John's mind.

"Here, let me carry those." Harold reached for the bags John had slung over his shoulder.

"Don't worry, Harold, I've got them."

Halfway toward the car section, Harold spied a booth featuring vinyl records and veered off to have a look, letting John continue on his own. He watched Harold for a minute, then turned his attention to the car parts, and the man behind the booth who was ready and willing to talk shop with him.

When Harold tapped him on the shoulder awhile later, he was startled to realize how much time had passed. Harold was holding out an album to him: classic Pink Floyd, one of John's favorites.

"It's not 180 gram, but I know you like them. Consider it an extra late birthday gift, if you like."

Harold liked to buy him things. He suspected it was because when they'd first met, John had had nothing to his name except the clothes he wore, and Harold had more money than he knew what to do with. Truth was that John didn't need anything. Being in the military, the CIA, and then being homeless, had taught him that it was easier to go through life if you didn't own much. Now though, he felt himself growing roots where he'd never expected to. And it was nice having someone buy him something just because he wanted to.

"Thanks, Harold. You didn't get me a turn table too, did you?"

The stupefied look on Harold's face said it all, and John laughed out loud. "It's your own fault. You're the one with the record player, so we'll have to listen to it at your place."

"I've got headphones. I can listen to my opera digitally. It's not the same, but it'll do."

John laughed again. If he hadn't had his hands full, he would have given Harold a hug, maybe even kissed him. Yet, this was too public a place for displays of affection for them, so he didn't.

"What were you discussing?" Harold asked as they stepped away from the automotive booth and into the flow of foot traffic.

"Debating whether or not to restore a sports car. I've not decided if it should be a classic or not. Maybe a Mustang or Camaro. If I can find one I'm interested in for a decent price, that is."

"You know money's no-"

"I know. But if I do this, it's my hobby. I'm not letting you pay for it, even if you do sign my paycheck."

"Of course."

"Then again, I could get something newer, like a Viper. I could use that for work."

"Right," Harold's tone was dry. "And I suppose next you'll be wanting me to install a catch net and other fancy gadgets to aid in your capture of the bad guys in order to help you stand out and blow our whole operation."

"It would make our job easier, don't you think?" Now John was grinning.

"Shall we check out the farmer's market before we go?" Harold asked.

Conversation clearly over, John let Harold lead, "Sure. What do you want for dinner? I'll cook. Maybe we can find the ingredients here."

As they debated between a pasta dish and a casserole, John stupidly let his guard down, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar voice behind them greet Harold by name.

"Ms. Groves," Harold turned and greeted her back. "Ms. Shaw."

"I see you brought the big lug with you. He must be great for carrying all of your groceries."

John kept his anger in check, his face turned to stone. No emotion. He still didn't like Root. Not since she'd kidnapped Harold and tortured a man in front of him, among other things. She was the reason Harold had had Post-Traumatic Stress for so long after that incident, though he'd been doing better since he'd befriended her. John didn't understand why Harold had done that, but it wasn't his place to harp on it once Harold had made it clear that he wouldn't unfriend her. John could only tolerate her as best he could.

"He has a name, Ms. Groves," Harold was saying. "I'd appreciate it, if you would use it."

Beside her, Shaw looked bored out of her mind. John liked Shaw. She was trustworthy and dependable when it came to their job, but he couldn't determine what her relationship with Root was. They seemed to be close, and then Shaw would make a comment that said otherwise. He figured that was one relationship he would never understand. Not that he understood much when it came to Root.

"You haven't seen any weapons for sale here, have you?" Shaw asked him.

John shook his head. "Nope. Sorry."

"Drat. Come on," Shaw said. "We see enough of these guys on a daily basis and they have sandwiches over there. I'm hungry. Let's go."

"Guess we'll see you two later!" Root wiggled her fingers at them as Shaw dragged her away.

John let out a breath of air, readjusted the bags on his shoulders, and nudged Harold in the direction of the farmer's market. Now he just wanted to get the ingredients for dinner, and go home.

A/N: In "Get Carter" (S01E09), they had this conversation, which partly inspired this short:

"I didn't know you collected dolls, Finch." - John

"As you know, I collect rare books, Mr. Reese, 180 gram vinyl, and a Xerox Alto when I can find one." - Harold

Also, there's a nod to the 1994 TV show, Viper, because I couldn't help myself.