Person of Interest: Interstitial (Finch/Reese)
A short-short piece for the Idyll challenge! I'm putting it on LJ first since I'm counting it for my daily post, will go on AO3 shortly. It doesn't entirely qualify because they didn't want to leave the library, but I have pillaged Tennyson to make up for it! :P No warnings, not adult.
Interstitial
"I suppose we should consider it in the nature of a vacation," Harold said, looking down at the still-smoking mess that had been the generator before a chunk of the third floor had unexpectedly caved in onto it. The blackout was going to last for one to three days across large swaths of the city, and the Machine had already gone silent: apparently whatever threatened the numbers on deck had been put on hold along with the rest of ordinary life.
They lit candles. Harold cannibalized parts and some of the propane to build a small makeshift stove; John made them soup out of the handful of cans he'd found left in the bodega on the corner: beans, tomatoes, corn. The rain was still continuing, a soft patter they could hear from above through the hole in the floor, punctuated by cracks of thunder. Bear contentedly gnawed a chew treat in his corner.
It reminded John of his Army days, survival training in the woods, rain pattering down on the tarp he'd rigged, legs and back aching from forty pounds and thirty miles, hunched over his rifle and his sidearm while he cleaned them. It was funny those were the uncomplicated memories. There had been other rainy nights, other parts of the world.
And now he was here: he looked across the plates at Harold sitting with his back to a library shelf and his hands curled around a mug of tea, a pale yellow flickering on his glasses and in his eyes. There were candles everywhere all around them, tealights in small glasses perched on stacks of books and the corners of tables. Another roll of thunder outside, and Harold was listening to it, contemplative. He said half idly, "A night in which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost," and John found himself reaching out, putting his hand on Harold's neat outstretched ankle, just above the shoe. Harold's face went still in the candlelight. "John," he said after a moment, softly, wonderingly.
It was cold. They didn't undress. They took off belts and shoes and jackets, Harold's vest and tie, and laid down together on the narrow air mattress. Harold's sock foot slid gently over the instep of his and John shivered all over, unexpectedly. Harold's mouth curved in his small smile. The candles whispered and jumped around them as Harold's warm hands slid onto his back.
All fb loved as always! <3
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth (
comments)
Interstitial
"I suppose we should consider it in the nature of a vacation," Harold said, looking down at the still-smoking mess that had been the generator before a chunk of the third floor had unexpectedly caved in onto it. The blackout was going to last for one to three days across large swaths of the city, and the Machine had already gone silent: apparently whatever threatened the numbers on deck had been put on hold along with the rest of ordinary life.
They lit candles. Harold cannibalized parts and some of the propane to build a small makeshift stove; John made them soup out of the handful of cans he'd found left in the bodega on the corner: beans, tomatoes, corn. The rain was still continuing, a soft patter they could hear from above through the hole in the floor, punctuated by cracks of thunder. Bear contentedly gnawed a chew treat in his corner.
It reminded John of his Army days, survival training in the woods, rain pattering down on the tarp he'd rigged, legs and back aching from forty pounds and thirty miles, hunched over his rifle and his sidearm while he cleaned them. It was funny those were the uncomplicated memories. There had been other rainy nights, other parts of the world.
And now he was here: he looked across the plates at Harold sitting with his back to a library shelf and his hands curled around a mug of tea, a pale yellow flickering on his glasses and in his eyes. There were candles everywhere all around them, tealights in small glasses perched on stacks of books and the corners of tables. Another roll of thunder outside, and Harold was listening to it, contemplative. He said half idly, "A night in which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost," and John found himself reaching out, putting his hand on Harold's neat outstretched ankle, just above the shoe. Harold's face went still in the candlelight. "John," he said after a moment, softly, wonderingly.
It was cold. They didn't undress. They took off belts and shoes and jackets, Harold's vest and tie, and laid down together on the narrow air mattress. Harold's sock foot slid gently over the instep of his and John shivered all over, unexpectedly. Harold's mouth curved in his small smile. The candles whispered and jumped around them as Harold's warm hands slid onto his back.
All fb loved as always! <3
You can also read this entry on Dreamwidth (
comments)