Fanfic: Finite Chances, Infinite Possibilities-Chapter IX
Title: Finite Chances, Infinite Possibilities
Chapter IX: It Takes 'The Village'…..
Pairings: Finch/Reese (developing relationship, slash)
Rating: NC-17 (sexual situation)
Word Count: 2940
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Two disreputable looking men shambled their way across the borough. The taller of the pair paused frequently to investigate the contents of trashcans or cadge spare change from passing pedestrians. The shorter man, who's noticeable limp engendered winces of sympathy from a few strangers, fidgeted during these times; his pale eyes darting up and down the street from behind mended glasses. After the fourth such display, his companion bumped the older man's shoulder.
"Finch, stop acting so antsy. People will think you're an addict."
"I can't help it Mr. Reese. I'm very aware of how exposed we are out here."
John pulled his boss out of the flow of pedestrians, into a convenient alley where they could speak unnoticed. Reese's blue eyes snapped in anger. "And I'm not? Is that what you're saying Finch?"
The recluse was tired. The falafel consumed for lunch earlier had long since faded from his digestive tract and his hip was throbbing. "I can't think of why you would be pawing through garbage or pan-handling when we're in such-"
"I am precisely because we are in danger, Harold!" John turned away from the billionaire, fists clenched at his sides. He struggled to keep his frustration in check. The strain of trying to find another source of safe shelter for them was getting to Reese and the last thing he wanted to do was jeopardize his new understanding with his partner.
"I'm doing what any homeless person would do as they moved from one place to another: looking for anything that could be of value, for anyone willing to give me spare change."
When the op turned back to face Finch, his eyes were bleak.
"Don't you see Harold? If we hurry across town, if we even seem to have a destination in mind, we'll stand out. Mark's agents will identify us easily. This is the way we have to do things. I thought you trusted me to protect you."
Finch quieted, seeing at last the desperation in his partner's expression. This whole situation has been difficult from the outset. John's only just healed, himself…now he has to take care of both of us while still avoiding the CIA…Herculean tasks in the best of circumstances. He felt ashamed of allowing fears to overcome his rational thought process.
"Of course I trust you John….I'm sorry." Harold reached out to grasp his partner's hand, squawking in surprise as Reese enveloped him in a close embrace.
"I know you're afraid, Harold…I am too. I don't want to do anything that will endanger you." The op's voice was muffled as he spoke into Finch's shoulder, his lips brushing the side of the recluse's neck.
Finch hugged him back, fingers clenching in the tattered army coat Reese wore. The older man sighed; deciding that of all the people in this restless metropolis he could be making this journey with, Reese was in fact the only one he might admit weakness to without fear of coming to harm as a result. John’s the only one who knows....or cares. Harold plucked up his newfound resolve and looked into the anxious face of his partner.
"I'm tired and getting hungry. N-, I mean my associates always said I turned into the antichrist when I didn't eat with some regularity." he chuckled wryly. "Perhaps you should toss me a hunk of raw meat to placate the entity."
John laughed, hugging his partner tighter. "I’m feeling that way too, Finch. Let's rest here for a minute, we're safe enough."
He guided the billionaire further into the alley and settled him on the back steps of some retail establishment. Sitting beside his friend, Reese wrapped an arm around Harold and pulled him close against his side for warmth. He smiled when he felt Finch's own arm timidly circle his waist; Harold's head resting on his chest.
John kissed his partner's forehead. "I need to think anyway. I don't feel safe returning to the encampment again, it's best if we don't backtrack." He gave a quiet growl of exasperation.
"I have to find us a secure place to sleep though."
"Where are we now?"
"Mid-town, getting close to Greenwich."
"The Village? But that's perfect John!" Finch lifted his face, his eyes brightening. I have a safe house there…one I haven't used in years and not likely to be discovered. It's….well,"
Reese picked up on the self-conscious hesitation in Harold’s voice.
"In a brothel?”, the op prompted.
"No!”, the recluse’s horrified reply was adamant. “It's above a bar."
"That doesn't sound bad, I've been holed up in…"
"A gay bar."
Reese started to laugh as the absurdity of Finch’s embarrassed confession in the midst of their situation, for the moment, outweighed the op's anxieties. He pulled Finch up across his lap.
"Of course it is…."
"Mr. Reese?!" Finch shifted, trying to slide off his partner’s legs.
"Drop the formality, Harold…I'm about to start making out with you."
"John, please, not here in the open!"
"We're the only ones in this alley Harold,” aside from a couple of rats, which Finch doesn‘t need informing about...“and unless you start fighting me, no-one is going even know we're here."
Without giving Finch the chance to reply, John leaned down and kissed the recluse.
Harold opened his mouth to protest, only to have his partner's tongue dart between his lips, deepening the contact. He gave voice to a quiet moan, feeling himself go limp against the strong body supporting him. How had they progressed so quickly from employer-employee to lovers?
Finch, at a loss to rationalize it, was fast finding that he didn't care. John's mouth on his felt so right, was so much what he wanted that Harold wouldn't have objected even if he were capable of speech. In fact, his body was telling him in no uncertain terms how much it was enjoying the taller man's proximity.
Reese felt Harold squirm in his lap and placed his hands on the recluse's hips to try and settle him when he felt a warm firmness pressing against his wrist. He pulled back from Finch's mouth and slid his fingers over the older man's crotch, smiling at the soft 'ooohhh' it drew from him.
"You like that Harold?" John traced the swelling outline of Finch's cock through the worn pants, cupping its hot length and feeling a sense of smug possession as Harold's hips bucked against his hand.
"J-John…..aaahhh…" Finch's protest trailed off as he felt Reese undo his belt and pop the fly on his jeans, unzipping them just enough to push his hands into the threadbare briefs. John's fingers were amazing, skillfully playing with him until Harold thought his brain would melt.
"So where is your safe house, Harold?" Reese's breath was hot against his ear and Finch was hard-pressed to maintain coherent thought as John continued to tease him.
"Above-above a place called 'O.W.'s'."
"And how do we get inside?" John's fingers felt pre-seminal fluid leaking from Harold's tip and smeared it over the recluse's crown, applying deft pressure to the sensitive underside of Finch's penis.
"John….oh God…please, I can't….."
"How, Harold or I stop right now."
"I have to talk to the bartender….He knows me, well, one of me."
"Is he reliable?"
"Solid….mmmmm….owes me."
"Sounds like a plan then." John gave Harold's cock a long lingering stroke then released him.
"W-what? Why di-"
John lifted his partner up and turning, laid him down against the steps. The op settled himself between Harold's thighs and took the smaller man in his mouth. He hummed in amusement as Finch threw his head back, his eyes screwing shut as Reese began to work Harold's erection with his lips and tongue.
A quiet string of invectives poured forth from the billionaire's lips, no less emphatic for being whispered. Reese tuned them out, concentrating on the salty-musky taste of Harold's cock, literally weeping pre-cum now and of how much he loved the mercurial, tough as nails man he was pleasuring.
Finch's fingers stroked John's scalp, cupping his head and Reese realized that the older man's vocalizations had coalesced into one word: John. Harold repeated it over an over, like a mantra for salvation.
Harold felt a tightness building in his belly and knew he was close. John's mouth felt incredible. He didn't want it to end but this conclusion was foregone and he cried out as he came between his partner's willing lips. He could do nothing but lay on the steps, spasms ticcing across his hips and lower back as John licked him clean before straightening his clothing again. He let the tall man gather him back up into the circle of his arms; enjoying the warmth and closeness John shared with him.
"How you doing, Harold?"
"I think you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days, John…"
"You're more relaxed though, aren't you?"
"I….yes." and Harold realized it was true. His anxiety level was almost non-existent, buried underneath the endorphins flooding his nervous system. His pain had receded for the moment as well.
"Mission accomplished then."
"You are impossible!"
"Now, Finch…" Reese wagged a finger at him as he kissed Harold again before helping him to his feet. "Don't get upset, you'll undo all the good we just did you."
He looked at his partner, his blue eyes dark with emotion. "Are you feeling better, Harold? Can you make it a little further?"
"Yes. Let's get under cover for the night." He met his partner's gaze with determination and Reese felt his heart contract again.
"I love you Harold Finch."
The recluse blushed, a small smile playing at his lips. "I love you too, John."
They moved back up to the mouth of the alley, Reese observing the pedestrian traffic with care before they stepped out into it, merging with the tide of humanity flooding Manhattan's sidewalks. This time the two men moved as if they'd spent a lifetime together; Finch pulling on his partner's sleeve to point out an interesting object in a trash bin or extending his hand to collect a dollar bill or handful of coins in his paper cup.
They made it to Greenwich Village just as dusk began to close in.
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Back entrance, O.W.'s
Finch took off the watchcap, stuffing it into his pocket and smoothing his hair in an unconscious gesture to ease his nervousness. He looked back at his companion. "Will you let me handle this, John?"
Reese shrugged. "Your turf Harold, you know best. I'll keep quiet."
Harold nodded and limped up the steps to a steel door. He knocked three times, then once, then twice again.
The door opened a crack and Finch exchanged quiet words with what John assumed was a member of the bar staff. The door closed and Finch turned to look at his partner.
"Now what?" Reese asked.
"We wait. Rupert should be-"
The door opened again, fully enough this time to reveal the person of a large, beefy looking young man with long wavy brown hair. He had stubble on his chin and the impressive pair of mutton-chops gracing his cheeks more than made up for his scraggly mustache. His chocolate colored eyes lit up happily when he caught sight of Finch.
"Goose-Man!"
The newcomer swept Harold up into a hug that lifted him off his feet. Reese took a step forward only to stop short as he heard Finch laugh. The sound was so unexpected that it took the op by surprise. Harold rarely laughed and John had never heard him do so with such unrestrained abandon. Despite the exuberance of the bear-like man's welcome, he held his friend with a gentleness that belied his appearance. Reese couldn’t help smiling at the happiness in the staff member’s greeting. This must be the bartender....
"Rupert! It's good to see you!"
"Dude! Where you keepin' yourself lately? It has been like a wasteland without you here, man." The merry brown eyes looked John over and his grin widened. "Hey, who's long, lean and lethally gorgeous here?"
"Put me down, please."
"Oh…sorry dude."
"Rupert Hurley, I'd like you to meet John, my partner."
"Goosey! You sly old dog, you!" Rupert reached out and pulled John into an embrace just as enthusiastic as the one he'd given Finch. "Pleased to meet you, John. Anyone near and dear to Harry Gander is family to me!"
When he released the op, John staggered back a step. "Good to meet you too Rupert."
"Please…call me Hugh…that's my middle name. Rupert's so formal." He grinned at Finch. "Harry gets away with it because I owe him back to the stone age." The bartender looked Reese over again, his boisterous joviality dimming as his expression grew serious.
"I hope you realize how lucky you are John. Harry is one hell of a guy and he deserves the best. We been friends for some time and I'll personally put a world of hurt on anyone who does him wrong."
John's own eyes were hard as he looked back at the younger man. "You and me both, Hugh. Harry is my life." John stepped up behind Finch and hugged him close. The big man's face broke into a knowing smile as he watched Harold's cheeks flush.
"Oh, Goose-Man…you got it bad, don'tcha?" He beckoned the two men inside.
"Well don't just stand out there in the dark. Your place is ready and waitin' for you Harry. Follow me and I'll get you the key."
Finch and Reese followed Hugh into the bar's stockroom. Harold sighed in relief, feeling warmth wash over him. He was feeling the strain of traveling all day again and was ready to go to ground. John moved up to his side, clasping Finch's hand in his own and squeezing his fingers gently.
Hugh left them for a moment then bustled back with a set of keys dangling from a plastic daisy. "Here you go Goose-man. You need anything, you just let me know…otherwise you won't be bothered."
"Thank you Rupert. John would you mind going up and turning the lights on? There's only one apartment on the third floor." Reese took the keys and headed up the stairs.
Finch turned back to the man who had been one of the few irrelevants Harold had managed to help on his own, when he started his crusade. Rupert Hurley, targeted for harassment by a gang of spoiled, upper-class teenagers due to his sexual orientation…simply because they were bored. The Machine wouldn't have picked him out simply for being the victim of petty tormenting but the boys had chosen to escalate their hazing into something more serious….murder.
Finch had been able to gather evidence, surveillance video, recordings of telephone calls and texts between the teens. He also got a hold of the receipt for the gun purchase, thanks to a bribable pawnshop owner. The man had been charged but wound up being promised immunity if he co-operated with the police. It was a no-brainer even for the likes of him.
As it turned out, Hurley had been living on the streets after being kicked out by his boyfriend of six years. Finch had offered him the second floor apartment in 'O.W.'s' building and the job of bussing tables. Rupert had repaid the recluse's generosity by working hard, getting to know the bar's clientele and taking business and bartending courses on his own time. Harold had apprenticed him under Giles, the former barkeep and Hurley had taken over the job when the old man retired last year.
"I'm happy to see you doing so well, Rupert."
"You too, Goose-man…although, the 'slumming' look don’t do much for you. You want your stuff?"
"Please."
"Just as well, you need to clean up and get some better plumage on for that swan of yours." He grinned again as he passed over a messenger bag and a suitcase.
"I'm sure there aren't any perishables upstairs, would you mind ordering something for us?"
"No sooner said than done, Goosey! Have your fine cob meet me here in forty minutes and I'll send him back up with dinner. Leave it to me!"
Finch's smile was warm as he patted his young friend's arm. "Thank you Rupert. I can't tell you how much we appreciate th-"
Hurley waved him into silence. "Anything you ever want or need that I can do for you Harry, you know I will. I'm the one that should be thanking you, not vice versa."
The kind, brown eyes looked Finch over.
"I don't know where you found him, Harry but your John seems like a really good guy. Never thought I'd see you get together with anyone…" Hugh paused, smiling shyly at his friend. "You’re not sad anymore…I'm glad for you, Harry."
Finch smiled at the younger man. "I'm pleased you like John, Rupert. He's….very good for me."
Hurley leaned in and hugged Finch again, with a warmth that caused a lump to rise in Harold's throat. "Then you keep hold of him." Rupert laughed. "I don't think John's the type to let you go easily anyway. It‘s plain as day that he‘s crazy about you."
"You‘re right, he wouldn‘t...nor I him. Goodnight Rupert.”
" ‘Night Goose-Man…don't you both stay up all hours preening each other."
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NOTES: A cob is the term for an adult, male swan. As for Mr. Rupert Hurley....I’ve never actually watched a single episode of ‘LOST’ but the bits of fanvids I have seen that feature Ben and Hugo seem to indicate, at least later on in the series, a tentative friendship developing between the two characters (from a non-viewer’s point of view anyway, lol).
I thought it would be fun to include a variation of him in the FCIP Poi-verse, even if just in a cameo role. ENJOY!