John sees what’s in the slump of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, but there’s a different kind of expression plastered on his face for the benefits of the officers.  How he’s pulled off this little conjugal visit, Reese has no idea, but he’s relieved to see him as he rushes to the cell.

“Honey!  Oh, God, they said you’d been arrested!” 

He’s putting on an act, sounding like a panicked spouse.  His fingers wrap around the bars and John wraps his own around them, holding on, stroking the backs of Harold’s hands.  Just going with it for the sake of the slightly bemused officers.  Honest. 

Finch slides something small into the palm of his hand and he tucks his thumb over it. 

“It’s just a mis-understanding, babe,” he says, voice rough.  “I’ll be out soon.”

Then John sees the mask slip a moment before Finch tips his forehead to lean against the bars.  Suddenly John wants to rage at the metal between them.  He bends to touch his own forehead to Harold’s, breath taken by the warmth of his skin.  He wishes they’d had more time, time for something more to develop. 

“I’m working on it,” Finch whispers and John nods once.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.  We took this one too close to the wire.”

John swallows.  He can’t have long and he’s not sure if he’ll ever see Harold again.  It’s time for a truth he’s barely had time to admit to himself.  “I love you.”

He can see -- feel, hear -- Harold desperately trying to hold himself together.  But there’s no hesitation when he murmurs, “I love you too.  Just hold on, okay?”

“You too.”

One of the cops steps forward and Reese is surprised they’re not getting homophobic rhetoric thrown at them.  “That’s it!  Time’s up.”

Harold’s fingers slipping out from under his feels like his final lifeline slipping away but it’ll just make things worse if he makes a scene.  Harold’s putting himself in danger, under the spotlight, just being here.  He’s taken a huge risk and John should be angry with him but he can’t be.

....

John sits back down on the hard, narrow bench and waits half an hour in case he’s being watched before sneaking a peek at the thing Finch handed him.  It’s an earwig, but smaller than his last few so that once inserted in his ear he doesn’t think it’s visible from the outside.  There’s no way to activate it so he waits, and it’s another hour before he hears Harold’s much missed, much loved voice in his head.

“Hello, Mr Reese.  This device has a good range so you only need to whisper and I’ll be able to hear you.”

He somehow keeps the smile he feels from his face.  “Hello Harold.”

“I notice they’re keeping you separated from other prisoners so you shouldn’t be overheard.  I’ve played a little with their surveillance so you should be all right to talk if you want.”

“I want.”

“I’m afraid the size and transmission requirements didn’t allow for an off switch on your end.  If you don’t want to hear me you’ll need to take it out.”

“Like I said, I want.”

There’s a pause and John can imagine the flush on Harold’s face.  He wonders how long it’ll be before he’s asked the one question Finch must be dying to get the answer to.

“We’re working on getting you out as fast as we can, I promise.”

“I know.”

“When I get you back, I’m giving you a phone you can’t destroy.  And I swear, John, if you say goodbye to me one more time I’ll fire you.”

John smiles.  “No you won’t.”

There’s another pause.  “No, I won’t.  But I will dock your pay.”

“I have no idea what you pay me, Harold.  You pick up all my living expenses.”

He hears a soft laugh.  “I’ll stop paying your coffee tab.  I mean it, John.  You’re irreplaceable.”

“No, I’m not.  There are lots of ex-military men who could do what I do.”

“Maybe.  But you are irreplaceable.”  Harold stresses the words and they make him feel ridiculously warm inside. 

There’s a longer silence and John can’t keep him guessing any longer.  “Ask, Harold.”

He doesn’t think he will, but then it comes over in a rush.  “Did you mean what you said to me this afternoon?”

“Yes.”  He lets that sink in.  “And I’m sorry I left it until they split us up to say it to you.”

“This is not a permanent situation, John, you have my word.”  Harold sounds strong now, determined.  John knows just how strong he can be when it matters.  “When we’re back together, we’ll talk.”

“I was hoping we’d do more than talk.”

He’s hoping to get Harold flustered, but he soon realises it’s going to take more than a vaguely seductive suggestion. 

“Can I take it your love for me isn’t completely platonic?”

“You can take it.”

“Thank God for that.  The things I’ve imagined you doing to me, John... things I’ve imagined doing to you in return.”

He feels the blush in his own face, the blood rushing south.  “Jeez, Harold, give a guy some warning.”

“Sorry, John.”  He clearly isn’t.  “Just, it’s been a while since someone’s seen me as a sexual being rather than just a cripple.  I’ve seldom allowed myself to fantasise about anyone but we’ve grown so close.  You understand I never would have made a move if you hadn’t first.”

“Don’t think so little of yourself.  All those things you’ve been imagining, I want you to tell me about them and if I get the chance I’ll happily, willingly and passionately oblige.”

“You’ll get the chance.”  Finch sounds... a little breathless.  “I give you my word.”

John takes a deep breath.  He needs to know, and needs to know now, what Harold looks like naked and flushed, gloriously erect and in the grip of orgasm.  But if he keeps thinking this way it’ll drive him insane.  He dials it back.  “It’s good to be hearing you again.  Never thought I’d miss having a voice in my head constantly.”

“I never once thought I’d miss being connected to a government-trained assassin, John.”  Connected.  It’s a good word.  “But I miss you.  I’ll have you home soon.”

As confident as he is about Finch’s abilities, John’s not sure there’s a way out of this.  The FBI, CIA, NYPD, they all want a piece of him.  He regrets not seeing this thing with Harold earlier, not making the most of possibilities.  But it’s his fear that’s worse.  He’s frightened to leave Finch alone with the still-present threat from Root.  Bear will protect him with his life but if she wants to get to him she will and despite her delusion last time that she wasn’t hurting him, John knows better.

“Please be careful, Harold.”

“Don’t worry about me.  I’ve been looking after myself for a lot longer than I’ve known you.”

John lies down on the hard bench.  He doesn’t think about how quiet it is or why he hasn’t been moved to a more secure location.  He isn’t going anywhere of his own accord for the time being so it’s pointless to worry about what might happen next. 

“I’m busy rewriting files and Carter’s carefully losing evidence,” Harold tells him and he can hear his fingers flying over a keyboard. 

“They know they have the man they’ve been looking for,” John points out.

“Knowing it and being able to prove it are two very different things,” Harold responds and he’s right. 

John closes his eyes and for a while they both fall silent.  The sound of Harold breathing is comfort enough.  He ponders on how desperately they both fought each other for privacy at the start of this, how secretive Harold still is about his past.  But despite that they’re more than happy to be sharing the present in such a strangely intimate way.  He wonders how much more he’ll learn about Harold if they get the chance to progress down this new avenue.

“Don’t forget to sleep, Harold,” he murmurs after a long time.

The reply comes, “I’ll sleep when you’re home.”

“I don’t need you making mistakes because you’re exhausted.”

“Did you sleep when Root had me?”

“I grabbed a couple of hours.”

“Over three days.  Besides, if I sleep I’ll have to cut the line or you’ll end up listening to me snoring.”

“I hope I’ll be listening to you snoring up close and personal soon.”

There’s a hesitation, and he hopes he hasn’t crossed some line. 

“I hope so too, John, you have no idea.” 

No line then.  It just makes him more desperate to get out of here, and more determined to stay put until his friends have done their work.  Friends.  Now there’s a phrase he really needs to get used to again. 

“It’s been two years since I shared a bed, or indeed myself, with anyone.”

John fights the urge to find a way out.  He needs to be at the library, needs take Harold somewhere safe and unknown and spend hour after hour finding out everything there is to know not about his life but about his body, the things he likes and the things he craves, what makes him laugh and what makes him scream.

“It’s been longer for me,” John murmurs, “but I’m sure given time we’ll work it out.”

....

Holding Finch in his arms is perfect.  He’s pliable and solid, soft and strong.  And he’s hugging John back as if he never intends to let go.

“Thank you,” John murmurs into Finch’s hair, one hand stroking the back of his head.

“It wasn’t just down to me.”  Wide hands are splayed across his back, Finch’s thumbs stroking through his shirt and jacket. 

“I’ve already given Carter and Fusco a hug.”

Harold laughs gently.  “I was hoping for more than a hug, Mr Reese,” he says, lifting his head.  John leans in and kisses him, lips slightly parted.  Harold’s tongue brushes into his mouth, tasting sweetly of doughnuts and tea.

“Lead the way to a bed, Mr Finch.”