Identifying Marks (For lover100 - 016. Tattoo)
TITLE: Identifying Marks
AUTHOR: g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 016. Tattoo
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: All of the scars on his body are permanent reminders of his enemies.
WARNINGS: Mostly fluff. Mild sexual content, brief references to torture and injuries, hint of a reference to masochism, unbetaed (also, it does vaguely refer to something from prompt 017. Branding)
NOTES: Thanks to
veryprivateperson for helping me hash this one out :D
WORD COUNT: 1085 per WordPerfect
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
He lay in bed, arms wrapped loosely around Finch, lazily tracing patterns in his chest hair. Finch studied his expression for a long moment, then said, "Penny for your thoughts, Mister Reese."
He blinked, looked down at his lover and gave a little shrug -- barely a twitch of one shoulder. "I'm not sure they're worth that much."
"They are always worth at least that much, John," Finch answered softly, meeting that blue gaze and trying to figure out where this pensive mood had come from.
Reese sighed, leaned in to gently kiss him, then shifted in the bed to hold him closer. "In the shower this morning, I realized that every mark on my body is a permanent reminder of one of my enemies...
"Bullet scars from Stanton and Snow's sniper, the electrical burns, Snow's own handiwork... Hell, even some of the damage to my wrists when Elias cuffed me in the freezer truck scarred." He closed his eyes and shook his head, then continued, "This is going to sound so weird to you, but..."
He opened his eyes again to meet Finch's bemused stare, then, "I don't have anything from you."
Finch blinked once, looking very owlish for a moment, then frowned. "I'm sorry, John. There are a lot of things I'm more than happy to do to you, but not that," he said firmly.
"No, that's all right, Harold. I wouldn't want you to -- it would be too-- too similar." He shook his head then tightened his arms around Finch a little more. "I'd been thinking about a tattoo, but..."
"But?" Finch prompted when the quiet and the thoughtful face had gone on long enough.
"Well... They're even more of an identifying mark than scars. At least with the more unique ones. And I wouldn't want something just anyone could walk into a tattoo parlor and find the flash of on the wall."
He worried distractedly at his lower lip and continued, "And I don't think I'd trust some stranger to do it because I think I--"
"You...?" Finch prompted when he didn't continue. He'd obviously gone introspective again, and it had piqued his curiosity.
"I think I might... react."
"Oh?" Finch asked. Reese raised an eloquent eyebrow and gave him a half smile, and his meaning was suddenly clear. "Oh. Well, yes. We wouldn't want that in some--" He wrinkled his nose, then continued, "tattoo parlor."
"So, you see my dilemma."
"Indeed, Mister Reese."
* * *
Two days later, he was surprised to see a new stack of books had appeared on the table near the computer screens. Books about tattoos and tattooing, and even one about the many kinds of body modification; all apparently pulled from the shelves of the library.
Reese stared at the books for a long moment, intrigued by this development. Finch was reading up on tattooing -- for him?
There were sticky-note page markers scattered throughout the Ultimate Tattoo Bible 2nd Edition, and he was about to start checking them out when he heard Finch's distinctive step nearing.
"Good morning, Mister Reese. We have a new Number..."
* * *
He lay face down on the bed, legs pinned by Finch's upper body as he lay diagonally across them. "So," Finch said, "I have been doing some research and study..."
"About?" Reese asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity as he felt Finch washing one of his ass cheeks with a warm washcloth. What on earth was he doing?
"Tattooing," Finch answered promptly, masking the sound of plastic being peeled away from something.
"Oh?"
"Yes. I believe that I should be able to give you the permanent mark that you want, by myself, without any health risk to you. And, of course, without any strangers present, in case you... react."
"You--" Reese breathed. He cut off at the feeling of something being positioned on his ass cheek and Finch pressing the damp cloth over it. "You're going to do it yourself?"
"That is what you want, isn't it?"
Reese groaned and shifted in the bed, trying to ease the pressure on his hardening cock. "Yeah-- yeah, it is."
"Good. Hold still, please," Finch said firmly, smiling as he instantly obeyed. "Then we're in agreement. The tattooing machine and supplies should arrive at the UPS Store tomorrow. Now all we need do is come up with a design."
Reese frowned as he felt Finch carefully beginning to peel something off his ass before he pressed the damp washcloth back on it. "I was thinking maybe an ID box," he murmured.
"Oh, no. I think that would be a bad idea. For the most part I wouldn't worry about identifying marks, but that... No."
Reese raised an eyebrow. Did the government also get to see their relevant numbers outlined with an ID box? That would really be the only reason for concern...
"Hmmn... Yes, perfect," Finch muttered, finally moving the washcloth and peeling something off Reese's ass. "I was thinking more along the lines of, oh, I don't know, a small bird?"
"A finch, maybe? Or a wren?" Reese asked with a smirk he knew Finch couldn't see.
"Yes, I think we'll stick with a finch, Mister Reese," Finch said drily. "It may not have occurred to you, but it's not wise to antagonize the man who will be inking permanent marks on your body. Especially when the placement of said mark is one you can't easily see.
"I've heard that some of them have been known to exact unique and creative revenge."
"I had better not end up with a sparkly pink unicorn on my ass, Finch," Reese muttered.
"Not this time, at least," Finch answered with his own smirk. Then he reached for something and settled back again, and Reese heard the sound of his phone's camera snapping a picture.
"Here you go -- to tide you over until you have the real thing," Finch said, passing him the phone and watching his reaction.
Reese raised an eyebrow as he studied the picture: three small, round blue birds with frowns on their faces arced towards a burn scar on his hip, looking for all the world like they intended to obliterate it.
"Angry Birds," Reese said with an amused grin, turning back as far as he could to look at Finch. "That's cute, Harold." Then he softly added, "Thank you. I like the symbolism..."
"I thought you might appreciate that," Finch said, pleased with his handiwork.
"Yeah. Now come up here and let me kiss you."
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232385.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
AUTHOR: g_shadowslayer (Penemuel)
FANDOM: Person of Interest
PAIRING/CHARACTER: John Reese (this fic's pairing: Harold Finch/John Reese)
GENRE: Slash
TABLE: C
PROMPT: 016. Tattoo
RATING: PG-13
SUMMARY: All of the scars on his body are permanent reminders of his enemies.
WARNINGS: Mostly fluff. Mild sexual content, brief references to torture and injuries, hint of a reference to masochism, unbetaed (also, it does vaguely refer to something from prompt 017. Branding)
NOTES: Thanks to
veryprivateperson for helping me hash this one out :D
WORD COUNT: 1085 per WordPerfect
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, and I'll try to clean them up a little before I give them back...
He lay in bed, arms wrapped loosely around Finch, lazily tracing patterns in his chest hair. Finch studied his expression for a long moment, then said, "Penny for your thoughts, Mister Reese."
He blinked, looked down at his lover and gave a little shrug -- barely a twitch of one shoulder. "I'm not sure they're worth that much."
"They are always worth at least that much, John," Finch answered softly, meeting that blue gaze and trying to figure out where this pensive mood had come from.
Reese sighed, leaned in to gently kiss him, then shifted in the bed to hold him closer. "In the shower this morning, I realized that every mark on my body is a permanent reminder of one of my enemies...
"Bullet scars from Stanton and Snow's sniper, the electrical burns, Snow's own handiwork... Hell, even some of the damage to my wrists when Elias cuffed me in the freezer truck scarred." He closed his eyes and shook his head, then continued, "This is going to sound so weird to you, but..."
He opened his eyes again to meet Finch's bemused stare, then, "I don't have anything from you."
Finch blinked once, looking very owlish for a moment, then frowned. "I'm sorry, John. There are a lot of things I'm more than happy to do to you, but not that," he said firmly.
"No, that's all right, Harold. I wouldn't want you to -- it would be too-- too similar." He shook his head then tightened his arms around Finch a little more. "I'd been thinking about a tattoo, but..."
"But?" Finch prompted when the quiet and the thoughtful face had gone on long enough.
"Well... They're even more of an identifying mark than scars. At least with the more unique ones. And I wouldn't want something just anyone could walk into a tattoo parlor and find the flash of on the wall."
He worried distractedly at his lower lip and continued, "And I don't think I'd trust some stranger to do it because I think I--"
"You...?" Finch prompted when he didn't continue. He'd obviously gone introspective again, and it had piqued his curiosity.
"I think I might... react."
"Oh?" Finch asked. Reese raised an eloquent eyebrow and gave him a half smile, and his meaning was suddenly clear. "Oh. Well, yes. We wouldn't want that in some--" He wrinkled his nose, then continued, "tattoo parlor."
"So, you see my dilemma."
"Indeed, Mister Reese."
* * *
Two days later, he was surprised to see a new stack of books had appeared on the table near the computer screens. Books about tattoos and tattooing, and even one about the many kinds of body modification; all apparently pulled from the shelves of the library.
Reese stared at the books for a long moment, intrigued by this development. Finch was reading up on tattooing -- for him?
There were sticky-note page markers scattered throughout the Ultimate Tattoo Bible 2nd Edition, and he was about to start checking them out when he heard Finch's distinctive step nearing.
"Good morning, Mister Reese. We have a new Number..."
* * *
He lay face down on the bed, legs pinned by Finch's upper body as he lay diagonally across them. "So," Finch said, "I have been doing some research and study..."
"About?" Reese asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity as he felt Finch washing one of his ass cheeks with a warm washcloth. What on earth was he doing?
"Tattooing," Finch answered promptly, masking the sound of plastic being peeled away from something.
"Oh?"
"Yes. I believe that I should be able to give you the permanent mark that you want, by myself, without any health risk to you. And, of course, without any strangers present, in case you... react."
"You--" Reese breathed. He cut off at the feeling of something being positioned on his ass cheek and Finch pressing the damp cloth over it. "You're going to do it yourself?"
"That is what you want, isn't it?"
Reese groaned and shifted in the bed, trying to ease the pressure on his hardening cock. "Yeah-- yeah, it is."
"Good. Hold still, please," Finch said firmly, smiling as he instantly obeyed. "Then we're in agreement. The tattooing machine and supplies should arrive at the UPS Store tomorrow. Now all we need do is come up with a design."
Reese frowned as he felt Finch carefully beginning to peel something off his ass before he pressed the damp washcloth back on it. "I was thinking maybe an ID box," he murmured.
"Oh, no. I think that would be a bad idea. For the most part I wouldn't worry about identifying marks, but that... No."
Reese raised an eyebrow. Did the government also get to see their relevant numbers outlined with an ID box? That would really be the only reason for concern...
"Hmmn... Yes, perfect," Finch muttered, finally moving the washcloth and peeling something off Reese's ass. "I was thinking more along the lines of, oh, I don't know, a small bird?"
"A finch, maybe? Or a wren?" Reese asked with a smirk he knew Finch couldn't see.
"Yes, I think we'll stick with a finch, Mister Reese," Finch said drily. "It may not have occurred to you, but it's not wise to antagonize the man who will be inking permanent marks on your body. Especially when the placement of said mark is one you can't easily see.
"I've heard that some of them have been known to exact unique and creative revenge."
"I had better not end up with a sparkly pink unicorn on my ass, Finch," Reese muttered.
"Not this time, at least," Finch answered with his own smirk. Then he reached for something and settled back again, and Reese heard the sound of his phone's camera snapping a picture.
"Here you go -- to tide you over until you have the real thing," Finch said, passing him the phone and watching his reaction.
Reese raised an eyebrow as he studied the picture: three small, round blue birds with frowns on their faces arced towards a burn scar on his hip, looking for all the world like they intended to obliterate it.
"Angry Birds," Reese said with an amused grin, turning back as far as he could to look at Finch. "That's cute, Harold." Then he softly added, "Thank you. I like the symbolism..."
"I thought you might appreciate that," Finch said, pleased with his handiwork.
"Yeah. Now come up here and let me kiss you."
This entry was originally posted at http://g-shadowslayer.dreamwidth.org/232385.html. Please comment there using OpenID.