Chapter 29 - John's POV
This was the time when John could finally grow a pair, lean in and kiss Harold. They both were aware of their shifting relationship. This was the right moment, but John couldn't forget Root and Shaw drugged him tonight. He did a lot of despicable things in his life, but taking advantage of Harold will never be one of them.
With a sad sigh John tore his eyes away. "Thanks for stitching me up again," he whispered. His heart sank with a first step he did away from bed. He watched Harold's confused blinking. It was the right decision for them, he knew that.
"John?"
"I can't." Could he say anything else?
"Of course," Harold replied stiffly.
John read the mortified expression and the next second the closed off mask. God. Another wrong thing to say. "No, Harold. You don't understand. Not today," he clarified. "Not when you're drugged. Not when you're sick. You don't think clearly."
"I assure you-"
"I know. But I don't... Not like this, Harold. I'm sorry." Did he even make sense? Right now John threw away the kiss he was longing for so badly. There was definitely something wrong in his head.
"You don't have to be, John. You are right, of course." Another shake of Harold's head. "This is hardly the time to have such conversation."
John changed the topic. "Try to get some sleep, Harold." He went to the kitchen and was back in a minute to placed another glass of water to Harold's nightstand.
"Thank you."
Idiot. John was nothing more than idiot. He spent the night calling himself worse. He put together the only burner phone they owned and they still didn't hear about Root or Shaw. Finch was thankfully to normal. By his own words: No lasting damage, Mr. Reese.
John resigned to not having another conversation like last night in near future. He let Finch use the bathroom first and then it was his turn.
The hot water worked wonders for his battered body. The skin around the stitches looked a bit red, but not angry infected red, just slightly irritated as usual. Broken ribs still bothered him with every movement but the pain was dull. Nothing he couldn't handle. John needed to have his strength. Root could be calling any moment and demand their help. It was a good sign to finally have a trace on Samaritan and maybe they could just find the hidden building and be done with that.
John put a clean clothes on and went to get breakfast from the fridge. He stopped short when he saw Harold by the window in the living room, changed his route and stood behind him.
"Anything interesting outside?"
"No."
"You alright?" John didn't think about concern in his voice or the palm he carefully placed on Harold's hip. The first indication he did something was the shorter man's surprised inhale. No one would have probably noticed, but John had years of practice to watch Finch closely. It was a second nature to him.
"Finch?" And with one inhale of Harold's name, John became acutely aware of their closeness. He felt Harold's body heat radiating from his back, the slight tremor of his muscles under John's hand.
John lowered his head and waited for reaction, the inviting skin of scarred neck was inches from his lips, but he couldn't cross the distance. He heard Harold's breathing sped up. John's blood was racing in his veins. "I need your word, Harold," he breathed desperately against his ear, almost cross eyed from desire.
"I can't think," Harold whispered softly.
"Yes or no?" John pressed his body closer, inhaling the scent he knew so well. Tea, soap and underneath it all, Harold. He could control himself quite well, but this was his breaking point. He had to touch him or stepped away.
In the inaudible room, Harold's swallowing was too loud. John's only answer were shaking fingers gripping his hand painfully. Like Harold needed to ground himself, not pushed him away.
John licked his parched lips and slowly kissed behind Harold's ear. The whimpering sound made him tense. Harold had no idea what his sounds were doing to him. "Tell me to stop."
John slipped the other hand around Harold's waist. In a second, Harold clutched his forearm as well and still no words of protest. John could hear erratic beating of his own heart, without a second thought he opened his lips and this time left a bit of moisture, when he kissed the alabaster path near the scars.
"John..."
Those were the first words Harold uttered and finally moved. For a second John panicked, when he felt Harold extricate from his touch, but Harold only turned around in his arms and stared at him with wide pupils and eyes full of desire and want.
John stepped forward, letting him lean on the window. He put left hand on Harold's lower back and caged him with the right one by his head. Neither one of them couldn't look away.
"Harold?" John was asking for the last time.
"Yes."
Harold's breath in his face was John's undoing. He closed the distance between them and gently pressed a kiss on his lips. He could feel the racing of Harold's heart in his chest, the hummed response when he placed both palms on John's shirt.
John pulled away, not to some great distance, just to see the reaction. Harold's lips unconsciously followed him, before he could catch himself. John waited for the eyes to met his. There were no regrets. John knew they needed to talk, they had to established new boundaries, but he was done talking or thinking. He carefully cupped the back of Harold's neck.
"You have to say no," John whispered urgently, before he brought their lips together again and with unrestrained passion licked into Harold's mouth with a moan of a dying man. Without breaking a kiss this time, John pinned him to the glass and their groins met. He felt Harold's hands slid up his back, not giving him a chance to pulled away again.
The big, loud explosion in the city and shockwave had John acted on instinct. He grabbed Harold and in one swift move, have them against the wall, when the windows rattled. Harold was clutching his torso with his eyes closed. John had to shake his head a few times to start thinking about something else than Harold's kiss.
"You ok, Harold?"
"Not... at the moment, no."
John sympathized with the statement. He left him and carefully looked out the window. Something on the other side of the city was burning. "It was a big boom right there. Do you think-" John stopped in the middle of the sentence.
Harold finally opened his eyes and was scanning the apartment . He could see how much composure the older man tried to gain by looking at anything other than him, but John didn't miss the shaking breath.
"Harold-" John's phone was ringing. He could do nothing else then to take it. "Yes?"
"We have a problem," Shaw informed him without any greetings.
"Big boom?"
"Yeah. We need to get out of here. The good news, we probably destroyed a part of Samaritan. The bad news, Root's pretty beaten up, we have a lot of people on our tail and a lot of work in front of us still."
"Ok, send me your location," John hung up. Harold was watching him nervously. "Root destroyed Samaritan, at least she hoped so. They are in trouble and need to go dark."
"Of course," he muttered with concern. "Do you want me to go too?"
"It would be better if you stayed. I don't know how long it will take. I will drive them somewhere safe and come back."
"Alright," Harold nodded.
John went for his coat, but his eyes stayed with Finch. "Harold-"
"Go, John. They need you. I will be here."
He didn't like this plan much, but John couldn't do anything else then went with a sad sigh. On the way he called Lionel.
"What?"
"You sound like you don't like to hear my voice, Lionel?" It was still amusing to play the game with Fusco.
"What do you want? I'm pretty sure the bomb was your work."
"Not mine directly. I need a favor. I left a certain someone in a safe house. He's not in danger, but I don't want to leave him alone."
"Yeah, no problem. I can handle him better then you or the other two trigger happy nutjobs. Where is he?"
"I will text you."
John carefully maneuvered the vehicle in the streets of New York, sent the address to Fusco and couldn't stop his smile. He licked his lips, just for the faint taste of Harold. His body tingled with the memory of their kiss.
