“Can you tell me where I can find lubricant?” asked John
Title: Drugstore
Author: kmmerc
Rating: R
Pairing: Finch/Reese
Word count: 1,064
A sequel to my Infomercial story.
“Can you tell me where I can find lubricant?” asked John, not bothering to limit the range of his voice. The elderly couple and the young woman surrounded by toddlers, also waiting for their drugs, looked at him with sudden interest.
It was supposed to have been a simple trip to
1. Pick up Finch’s new pain meds, and
2. Restock their dwindling first aid kit with disinfectant, tape and bandages.
John walked to the drugstore (two blocks from the Library) while Finch continued to comb through their supplies in case they had forgotten anything. He suddenly remembered, with a blush, that they were out of one very important item.
“Mr. Reese, there is something else I need you to buy” said Finch, having established not only telephone communication but visual as well. The drugstore cams had been child’s play to hack.
John grumbled - Mr. Reese, indeed. They’d been intimately involved for six months and Finch still tried to pull that tone on him. Well, two could play that game, he thought with a sudden smile. And maybe there were other ways to put Harold’s figurative ‘panties’ in a twist.
“Yes, Mr. Finch. What can I do for you?” he asked, rather severely.
“We seem to have run out of something we can’t do without” Finch replied.
“Go on...”
“I can’t say it over the phone. It is something we used up last night, together.”
“What, you mean lube?” he asked loudly. John was really beginning to enjoy this little errand. “I’m sorry we used it all up, but it really was YOUR fault. I mean, you’re the one who is so big.” John, walking down the candy aisle, stopped to smile at a pair of blushing teenagers and added a large Toblerone bar to his cart.
“Are you sure we’re all out? Did you check the card catalog?” They had taken to using an ancient wooden card catalogs for storing all manners of sundry items.
“Yes, Mr. Reese. I looked in the ‘L’s for lube and the ‘P’s for personal lubricant”
“How about the ‘S’ drawer” asked John.
“S?”
“S - for slick and for slippery and for sex” replied John, as he strolled past the diaper aisle.
Finch limped over to the card catalog. Inside, he saw with a shudder, was only a rather realistic rubber snake. John’s, he supposed.
“No, Mr. Reese. You simply must purchase some more. That is, if you have any mind to repeating last night’s recreational activities.”
Ouch, John thought. Harold really knew how to play to his weaknesses.
Finch watched Reese turn the cart and start marching resolutely towards the pharmacy desk, having already selected the desired first aid items.
John spied the pharmacist, a comely young woman who smiled when she saw him.
“I need to pick up a prescription for Mr. Harold Wren, please”.
“Here it is. Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“Can you tell me where I can find lubricant?” asked John, leaning his frame over the counter. Everyone, including Finch, pricked up their ears.
She blushed and pointed to the display behind her, full of family planning and similar products.
“Which one do you recommend” asked John, batting his long eyelashes.
She blushed and handed him a double pack that boldly proclaimed ‘FOR HIM and HER’.
John dimpled and asked in a confiding tone “Do you have any ‘FOR HIM and HIM? Or maybe I could buy two packs and I could give it to you…”
She yelped, Finch groaned. “Now really, Mr. Reese” he hissed over the headset.
He motioned to a rather large bottle in the display. She handed it to him without further comment, turning to take a sip from a water bottle.
She took a deep breath and asked ‘Do you need anything else, sir? Condoms, perhaps?”
John laughed and smiled. “No thank you. Harold insists on riding bareback!” he answered, turning away from the choking young woman and the gaping bystanders.
When Harold stopped pinching the bridge of his nose he put his glasses back on and started the laborious process of transferring all of his prescriptions to another drugstore, any drugstore, preferably on Staten Island. That done, he turned back to his monitors.
He watched with alarm as John suddenly froze. In front of an end-cap with the blazing sign ‘AS SEEN ON TV!” Finch groaned.
“Harold, LOOK!” yelped John, suddenly forgetting his tiny feud, his eyes darting from one item to the next.
He grabbed a Chia pet and waved it in front of the closest surveillance camera. “Now I know your greatest secret - the secret of…your hairstyle!”
Finch snorted. “I know you found my hidden collection of Tintin books, Mr. Reese, so don’t even go there!”
John grabbed a Shakee-Weight and crowed. “Harold, look! It’s like giving a robot a handjob! Why, you could imagine you are making love to the Machine!”
“JOHN! DO NOT ANTAGONIZE THE MACHINE!” shouted Harold, beginning to hyperventilate. John hastily dropped the offending item and began rub his left ear. He remembered the last time he teased the Machine… He prepared to leave the aisle entirely, post haste, when he saw what he had secretly been looking for…nay, dreaming of. ..Cuddlies - the robe that’s a blanket ™.
During one of their infomercial splurges, Harold had shown John a clip of the Cuddlies commercial. Otherwise average people: lounging about in their Cuddlies, playing the piano, tailgating, even sitting by the campfire in their matching Cuddlies robes. Harold insisted that they were all a part of a sex cult. John insisted that Harold thought EVERYTHING was a sex cult, in fact Harold had sex cults constantly on his mind, which, John thought, wasn’t necessarily healthy. Plus, John insisted, the commercial had it all wrong. If he, John, was running a Cuddlies sex cult, the faithful would be nude under their robes. And each robe would have strategically placed holes, front and back. He’d tried to demonstrate on one of library’s blankets but Harold grabbed his scissors and told him that the blanket had been woven by blind Peruvian nuns and cost $4,000.
“Harold?” John cooed. “Look, Cuddlies! THEY don’t cost as much as a used car” he wheedled.
Finch sighed. “OK, get one for each of us. But not camouflage colored”
John grinned and picked out two - both purple tiger print and placed them in the cart.
Finch turned off the monitor and began to look for the scissors.
Author: kmmerc
Rating: R
Pairing: Finch/Reese
Word count: 1,064
A sequel to my Infomercial story.
“Can you tell me where I can find lubricant?” asked John, not bothering to limit the range of his voice. The elderly couple and the young woman surrounded by toddlers, also waiting for their drugs, looked at him with sudden interest.
It was supposed to have been a simple trip to
1. Pick up Finch’s new pain meds, and
2. Restock their dwindling first aid kit with disinfectant, tape and bandages.
John walked to the drugstore (two blocks from the Library) while Finch continued to comb through their supplies in case they had forgotten anything. He suddenly remembered, with a blush, that they were out of one very important item.
“Mr. Reese, there is something else I need you to buy” said Finch, having established not only telephone communication but visual as well. The drugstore cams had been child’s play to hack.
John grumbled - Mr. Reese, indeed. They’d been intimately involved for six months and Finch still tried to pull that tone on him. Well, two could play that game, he thought with a sudden smile. And maybe there were other ways to put Harold’s figurative ‘panties’ in a twist.
“Yes, Mr. Finch. What can I do for you?” he asked, rather severely.
“We seem to have run out of something we can’t do without” Finch replied.
“Go on...”
“I can’t say it over the phone. It is something we used up last night, together.”
“What, you mean lube?” he asked loudly. John was really beginning to enjoy this little errand. “I’m sorry we used it all up, but it really was YOUR fault. I mean, you’re the one who is so big.” John, walking down the candy aisle, stopped to smile at a pair of blushing teenagers and added a large Toblerone bar to his cart.
“Are you sure we’re all out? Did you check the card catalog?” They had taken to using an ancient wooden card catalogs for storing all manners of sundry items.
“Yes, Mr. Reese. I looked in the ‘L’s for lube and the ‘P’s for personal lubricant”
“How about the ‘S’ drawer” asked John.
“S?”
“S - for slick and for slippery and for sex” replied John, as he strolled past the diaper aisle.
Finch limped over to the card catalog. Inside, he saw with a shudder, was only a rather realistic rubber snake. John’s, he supposed.
“No, Mr. Reese. You simply must purchase some more. That is, if you have any mind to repeating last night’s recreational activities.”
Ouch, John thought. Harold really knew how to play to his weaknesses.
Finch watched Reese turn the cart and start marching resolutely towards the pharmacy desk, having already selected the desired first aid items.
John spied the pharmacist, a comely young woman who smiled when she saw him.
“I need to pick up a prescription for Mr. Harold Wren, please”.
“Here it is. Is there anything else you need?” she asked.
“Can you tell me where I can find lubricant?” asked John, leaning his frame over the counter. Everyone, including Finch, pricked up their ears.
She blushed and pointed to the display behind her, full of family planning and similar products.
“Which one do you recommend” asked John, batting his long eyelashes.
She blushed and handed him a double pack that boldly proclaimed ‘FOR HIM and HER’.
John dimpled and asked in a confiding tone “Do you have any ‘FOR HIM and HIM? Or maybe I could buy two packs and I could give it to you…”
She yelped, Finch groaned. “Now really, Mr. Reese” he hissed over the headset.
He motioned to a rather large bottle in the display. She handed it to him without further comment, turning to take a sip from a water bottle.
She took a deep breath and asked ‘Do you need anything else, sir? Condoms, perhaps?”
John laughed and smiled. “No thank you. Harold insists on riding bareback!” he answered, turning away from the choking young woman and the gaping bystanders.
When Harold stopped pinching the bridge of his nose he put his glasses back on and started the laborious process of transferring all of his prescriptions to another drugstore, any drugstore, preferably on Staten Island. That done, he turned back to his monitors.
He watched with alarm as John suddenly froze. In front of an end-cap with the blazing sign ‘AS SEEN ON TV!” Finch groaned.
“Harold, LOOK!” yelped John, suddenly forgetting his tiny feud, his eyes darting from one item to the next.
He grabbed a Chia pet and waved it in front of the closest surveillance camera. “Now I know your greatest secret - the secret of…your hairstyle!”
Finch snorted. “I know you found my hidden collection of Tintin books, Mr. Reese, so don’t even go there!”
John grabbed a Shakee-Weight and crowed. “Harold, look! It’s like giving a robot a handjob! Why, you could imagine you are making love to the Machine!”
“JOHN! DO NOT ANTAGONIZE THE MACHINE!” shouted Harold, beginning to hyperventilate. John hastily dropped the offending item and began rub his left ear. He remembered the last time he teased the Machine… He prepared to leave the aisle entirely, post haste, when he saw what he had secretly been looking for…nay, dreaming of. ..Cuddlies - the robe that’s a blanket ™.
During one of their infomercial splurges, Harold had shown John a clip of the Cuddlies commercial. Otherwise average people: lounging about in their Cuddlies, playing the piano, tailgating, even sitting by the campfire in their matching Cuddlies robes. Harold insisted that they were all a part of a sex cult. John insisted that Harold thought EVERYTHING was a sex cult, in fact Harold had sex cults constantly on his mind, which, John thought, wasn’t necessarily healthy. Plus, John insisted, the commercial had it all wrong. If he, John, was running a Cuddlies sex cult, the faithful would be nude under their robes. And each robe would have strategically placed holes, front and back. He’d tried to demonstrate on one of library’s blankets but Harold grabbed his scissors and told him that the blanket had been woven by blind Peruvian nuns and cost $4,000.
“Harold?” John cooed. “Look, Cuddlies! THEY don’t cost as much as a used car” he wheedled.
Finch sighed. “OK, get one for each of us. But not camouflage colored”
John grinned and picked out two - both purple tiger print and placed them in the cart.
Finch turned off the monitor and began to look for the scissors.