John didn't know precisely what had happened between his friend and the prostitute but he damn well knew something had. Harold had come back to the Library one afternoon with tea, a keycard and a smile; the man had been positively pleasant ever since. It was the hooker, this Harbor girl, but getting information out of Harold Finch was harder than getting a millennial to part with his man bun. Finch hadn't even let Shaw get to him.

Reese didn't need to ask, he knew it was the escort, frankly he wanted to meet a woman who could have such a hold over a man like Harold so easily. The only logical explanation for Mister grumpy Finch turning into Mister not-happy-but-happier-than-normal Finch was that he'd seen the hooker and somehow gotten her to forgive his idiocy.

The ex-agent didn't say it, but he was happy for Harold. Finch had told him multiple times that people deserved a second chance and happiness and now it seemed that he might actually be taking a leaf out his own book. He could understand why Harold couldn't go back to Grace, why he wouldn't, but Finch needed someone to – if nothing else – help him get rid of some tension; Reese had played gay before but he sure as hell wasn't doing it with his boss who needed a woman. Well, Reese had his suspicions at the start but the escort was around now so he'd put a pin in the 'my boss might be bisexual' thought.

Reese obviously hadn't met Harbor and probably wouldn't if Harold had anything to say about it, but if she was an escort then he could imagine what she looked like. While he wanted her to be a sweet and kind woman who saw the goodness in Harold's heart, there was always the possibility she was playing some kind of long con. After some of the Numbers they'd had John knew just how far people would go to get money. Oh how Reese longed for this woman to just be a girl that understood and genuinely liked Harold. Finch could be standoffish, pedantic, irritable, and at times just plain vexing but there was goodness and a strange playfulness under all of that that Reese had seen peek out on occasion. Grace had to have seen it too, if she hadn't she'd not have loved him.

Maybe it wasn't Reese's place to say anything since he was technically an employee, maybe as Harold's friend it was his duty to say something. John didn't know either way but before a conclusion had been made they'd gotten yet another Number and had rushed back to saving lives.

~X~

Harbor had just put her pyjamas on and finished drying her long, raven-hair when she heard a knock at the door. Strange, she thought as an eyebrow raised, no one ever comes here. Harbor never met her clients at her home, always a hotel or somewhere else. A tad cautiously she stepped towards her white door and cleared her throat so she could call out.

"Who is it?"

"It's Harold!" The bespectacled man called back from the hallway.

Sure enough when she looked through the peep-hole there was Harold dressed in one of his Glen Check suits. A smile spread across Harbor's face and she quickly opened the door for him to come in. Once he was in the door he found his brow furrowing, it was four in the afternoon and yet this young woman was stood before him in her sleep attire, which consisted of a pair of little cotton shorts and a white tank top.

"Hank, I didn't expect you." She said sort of stating the obvious.

Harold nodded to himself more than Harbor. "No, I suppose not. I'm sorry I really should have called first-"

He started but Harbor just shrugged him off.

"It's okay, Hank."

Finch cleared his throat and glanced around a bit awkwardly; he sort of looked like a schoolboy giving his first Valentine's Day card to a girl.

"I just wanted to say again how sorry I am. I never meant to offend you and I still feel awful about it."

She smiled at that, a soft and meaningful smile as her head tilted a little to the side. Harbor gestured to the couch then and for him to sit down which he did, though not without a little trepidation. Harold remembered every second of what had happened on that loveseat, every perfect moment until he'd destroyed it. Harbor sat down beside him and crossed her legs which showed off more of her lovely legs; smooth, inviting thighs.

"I brought you this, I thought you'd appreciate it in your collection."

Harbor seemed shocked when he handed her a small book, old and leather bound. Her eyes raked over the book and then a look of amazement took over. The Island of Doctor Moreau, she smiled remembering when their first meeting at the diner.

"You didn't have to get me a present, Hank." She whispered without taking her green-eyes from the book. "Especially a first edition!"

"I know but still." Harold shrugged a little awkwardly.

The raven-haired beauty kissed him then, softly on the cheek almost exactly like before, their eyes locked and then she was kissing him properly. She smelt of coconuts and her skin was so lusciously warm. It took Harold a moment of fighting the urge grab Harbor by her hips and pulled her to him but he managed, instead he parted their lips and looked up at her with pale blue-eyes. Finch couldn't let this keep going.

"Why?"

The escort's brow furrowed with puzzlement. God, she smelt so perfect. "Why what?"

"Why do you keep kissing me?"

She laughed at that, for a split second Harold had thought she was laughing at him but no, the sweet smile proved him wrong. Harbor's eyes sparkled in the afternoon light and Harold had no doubt that her smile could ease the fear of a dying man.

"Because I like kissing you." She told him as though it were all very simple, and maybe it was, Harold had always found it hard to stop thinking. "And you're very attractive."

Harold didn't fully understand her reasoning. In his mind, while he wasn't ugly, he wasn't anything compared to this goddess; it was the key thought that had gotten him to screw everything up before. Finch just stared blankly at the much younger woman for a time until he finally remembered to talk.

"You're stunningly beautiful, wildly intelligent and everything any sane man could ever wish for." He understood machines not people. "You can do so much better than wasting your time on a middle-aged, paranoid man with a limp."

Something in the way she looked at him changed then, softened, it wasn't pity but it certainly wasn't happy; like she'd realized something.

"I don't care what you look like, Harold." Harbor said quietly. "You have the most beautiful heart of anyone I've ever met and that's more important."

Harold's heart clenched. Did she understand him? Did she see past the limp, the metal pins, all the secrets and lies to see all he wanted was to keep people safe and alive? Was Harbor truly someone he could relax around and just be happy for a time before the horrors of the world and his Machine returned to him? When she set down the book and leant in to kiss him again Harold knew the answer was yes. Harbor was his friend, or his friend with benefits, or whatever one wanted to call it.

"Come with me, Hank."

So he did. Harold let her lead him by the hand from the loveseat and into her bedroom. On the way Harold couldn't help noticing the poster of the man with the guitar, he still didn't know who the man was save for some musician, but Finch and this man didn't look anything even remotely alike. If the man in the poster with his dark-hair, black painted nails, guyliner and powerful jawline, was Harbor's type then she must have though Finch to have a truly good heart to overlook his physical appearance. Truthfully the only thing he and the man in the poster had in common was the fact they were both clearly a lot older than Harbor. He tried to ignore it.

The prostitute's bedroom wasn't overly large but it sufficed well enough. The whole room was decorated in black, gray and silver, a color scheme that quickly had Harold confirming her Gothic streak. Harold raised an eyebrow when he saw a small cushion adored with the same musician's face; Harbor seemed to notice because she left him a moment to toss it onto the floor out of sight.

As soon as he was in arms reach again Harbor grabbed him by the tie and tugged him towards her slowly; little to no pressure on his neck for which he mentally thanked her. He trailed his large hands down her flanks until they rested on her hips and she smiled at him when Finch flicked his eyes up to find her biting her lip in what had to be the most seductive thing he'd ever seen before.

"You truly are beautiful." He breathed.

"You're not so bad yourself, Hank."

With a slight push he took the hint to sit down on the end of her bed. Stood before him he realized just how little her pyjamas left to the imagination, he could see a good two-thirds of her thighs and a significant amount of her cleavage; tantalizing. Had Finch not been staring right at her he'd have thought her eyes digitally enhanced. She bent to press a light kiss to his lips and then Harbor slipped down onto her knees and opened his belt quickly with skilled, nimble fingers. He gasped when she reached into his silk boxers to take him in hand. If Harold wasn't mistaken she chuckled a little.

"A gasp? I haven't even gotten started yet." She teased.

Then he felt the warmth of her mouth envelop his quickly hardening length. Harold gasped louder and fisted the sheets until his fingertips turned white. Fuck, she's good at this. Suddenly he felt too hot – much too hot – and shoved off his suit jacket and waistcoat before he started on the tie which had been left loose from her tugging him close. Harbor hummed around his length and when he peered down there were those green emeralds sparkling up at him.

The older man's hips jolted up without his permission as a loud groan escaped his parted lips. Harold managed to release his grip on her duvet – at least with his right hand he did – and snared his fingers into her long, ever so slightly damp locks; Harold had meant to just hold her there but his traitorous body had him jerk her head back to a better angle. For a split second he chastised himself, thought he'd hurt her but then shuffled closer and hummed as her hands grasped his thighs.

"Fuck-"

Finch always tried to stay polite and well-mannered but in that moment with a beautiful twenty-two year old's mouth wrapped around his cock, Harold didn't fucking care.

He could feel it, his want, his desire, his urge for this girl rushing to the surface. Not yet.

"H... Harbor, stop. Darling, stop."

Only a little reluctantly did she release him. Harold's mouth hung open a moment before he could open his eyes again and regain his composure. Harbor's lips met Finch's for a bruising kiss as she rose up on her knees. She made quick work of his buttons, her nails made a faint clicking noise against them while she unbuttoned each one. Harold's hand rested atop the escort's when she reached the last one.

"I know you said you didn't care what I look like," he breathed, "but I'm not like the man in your poster."

Harbor chuckled. "No one is like Richard, he's the epitome of perfection... but that doesn't mean there aren't other kinds of perfection, Hank."

The bespectacled man let her undo the last button and then carefully push his white shirt off his shoulders and down his arms before it got cast to the ground. He wasn't fat, pudgy was a better word, with a light spattering of graying hair across his chest. Once again Harold found himself thinking how average he looked, especially compared to Harbor but he threw the thought away. They were both on the same page this time, he wasn't paying for her and Harbor had every chance to reject him leading up to this; she hadn't. He couldn't help but notice when her dazzling green orbs spotted the spattered shrapnel scars along his abdomen and sides, most had been superficial and faded but some hung around repetitively prominently. Harold refused to think of the ferry bombing, not now, not with Harbor. To Harold's surprise she didn't ask, didn't have pity wash over her face, no, instead she quietly leant in and placed a kiss over one of the more noticeable ones; an action that warmed his heart.

Harbor kissed him again. "Want to know a secret, Hank?"

"Alright." He managed to say between kisses.

"You can always tell what sort of person they are based off them alone."

"And what do mine say?" He enquired in a breathless voice.

Harbor took his hand in her own and laced their fingers together.

"They're soft but not excessively so which means you work with your hands but it's not hard labor, they're palish too so you spend a lot of time inside. You're fingertips though, they're heavily calloused so my guess is you spend all your time tapping away at a computer, since I doubt you're a concert pianist."

Neat trick. "That doesn't really sound like a secret, Harbor." Harold pointed out and gave nothing away.

The raven-haired beauty smirked as she rested her cheek against the back of his hand where it held her own.

"That's not the secret. The secret is my favourite bit of a man is always his hands, and yours are damn adorable."

He separated their hands then so he could cup her cheek and pull her towards him for another kiss, so much went on in that brain of hers, she noticed so much and Harold doubted many people had ever noticed before.

Easily Harbor rose to her feet, she stood tall with him sat on the bed. She smiled seductively at him. Another day he'd wonder how many others had been lucky enough to gaze at that smile.

"Want me to take it all off?" She questioned innocently.

"Very much so."

"Then you'd best help, hadn't you."

With a teasing chuckle Harbor reached to tug off her tank top while Harold slid the little cotton shorts down her firm thighs. Fuck, he could die a happy man. He'd seen her naked before but that had been in silvery moonlight while this was lit by the sun; Harold just sat there a moment to take in her beauty before she knocked him out of it abruptly.

"How do you want to do this?" Harbor's voice remained soft and lyrical but it still ground the bespectacled man to a dead stop.

"Hmm?" He peered up at her with confusion.

"Last time we were on my sofa, your neck was supported. I don't want you getting hurt just for me."

Harold's eyes trailed down to the floor as he took off his glasses and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Harbor, not to kill the mood," he began slowly "but I'm always in pain, it's constant. On good days it's a three and on bad days-" Harold trailed off a moment with a breathy sigh. "On bad days my body just... malfunctions. When I'm with you though, somehow that three turns into a two."

Suddenly she straddled him and pressed her lips to his, forcefully but not so much so that he had to crane his neck.

"That may well be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me."

Harold raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Didn't kill the mood?"

She shook her head. "No. Now," she grinned "how do you want me?"

He smirked. "I'm afraid you won't be getting any unique positions out of me."

"Oh Hank, I'm happy with just one really good normal position."

Her teasing truly knew no bounds and Harold had to admit he adored it. However, when he thought about it, just because she spent her time with so many men didn't mean they were all memorable or overly enjoyable encounters.

Eventually he shifted her to lay on her back as he pushed off the last of his clothes only to be presented with a condom. Then he was on her, his leg and hip protested but hey when didn't it? Her skin was sublime under under his calloused fingertips

Harold ignored the burn in his neck so he could press his lips to Harbor's own. She made a small sound somewhere between a whimper and a purr as her hands went to his shoulders desperately. Finch kissed and nipped his way down the young raven-haired beauty's body where he soon reached her breasts and took a nipple between his teeth which forced a moan from her parted lips. God she felt so good and he'd barley even touched her.

"Hank." She whispered though didn't seem aware of her utterance of his name.

Awkwardly Harold managed to support himself on his left arm so his right hand could reach down to tease her, Harbor gasped against his lips; all breathy and hot which filled him with a masculine pride he'd never known he'd craved.

Harbor's hips bucked up against his hand wantonly and Finch grinned as his tongue plundered her mouth. Such a beautiful and perfect creature all lay out before him, wanting him. The bespectacled man's eyes caressed her supple body. So beautiful, so perfect, so utterly stunning.

Harold would have taken his own sweet time with Harbor in his arms but he'd been worried and concerned after their first encounter that his body now just vibrated with an animalistic want, he'd been unable to touch her; now he could, now he'd been so graciously invited to. He'd almost driven him mad. Harold just couldn't resist her after all that, his want was too strong. With one sharp thrust Finch buried himself inside her wet heat.

Harbor arched her back into his touch. "Harold." She mewed. "Please. Harold, harder." She told him breathlessly as her legs snaked around the older man's hips to keep him close.

Her hips met his in a perfect rhythm and Harold didn't want to know how long it had taken her to learn how to match it so skilfully. Reese had been right, Harbor was an escort but not when she was with Harold.

"I didn't take you for someone so needy, Darling." He could do some light teasing of his own if he wanted.

Harbor practically clawed at his back trying to keep him close and Harold didn't mind, in fact his body cried out for it, the physical contact he regularly avoided or was deprived of. Usually the most touch Finch got was when doctors examined his neck or when Mister Reese patted him on the shoulder in that 'ya did good, kid' way of his. This though, oh he'd savor Harbor's touch, let it fill his mind and comfort him later... not that he'd ever admit that.

The growl that escaped him after a particularly sharp thrust was a deep and guttural one that almost – almost – pushed the escort over the edge and into the tidal wave that was euphoric bliss. Harbor cried out with want as fingers once again clawed at his shoulders. The young woman's walls quivered down around the tech genius' hard length and Finch groaned into her neck as his grip on her tightened and he tumbled over the edge and came with a gasped cry. His thin lips met Harbor's tantalizing ones while his girl's hips still searched him out as they rode out the end of their pleasurable highs.

Later he'd wish he'd lasted longer and do his usual worry about everything thing but in that moment he just kissed the beauty beneath him and ignored the throbbing in his hip and back. Harold looked down at her destroyed and debauched face with a satisfied expression before he shifted to lay on the bed beside her; being flat again certainly helped ease the shooting pains in his neck.

Something inside Harold told him he shouldn't have been surprised but he still was when Harbor rolled onto her right side and snuggled up against him. She rested her head on his chest and let a hand lay atop his pudgy stomach, Finch's body moved automatically and wrapped an arm around her to keep the raven-haired woman close. No one knew but Harold Finch was actually a rather tactile person, he enjoyed the post-coital cuddling but very rarely found himself in a situation where it was welcomed or wanted. Harbor though? Well, Finch had quickly come to learn she wasn't like any other woman and it wasn't fair to try and compare her to any, former conquest or not.

It took the bespectacled man a few minutes but it eventually dawned on him; Harold was happy. He had a beyond beautiful woman naked in his arms and his body was sated. Harold Finch was happy.