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It was obvious to anyone from the way Harold Finch and John Reese were sitting together on the sofa that what they really wanted to do was kiss each other. It was equally obvious, to Bear at least, that this was the last thing they were likely to do.
The two men had been talking for over half an hour, but not saying anything of any consequence. A couple of times one had given a small indication that they were going to stand up, but the other had made some protest which had found no resistance, and so both were still sitting side by side on the sofa, longing to kiss each other, but neither daring to take the first step.
Clearly it was up to Bear to do something about it. He knew what was needed, he just had to find where it was. And that was another thing. Normally, after he’d been playing his toys would be neatly put back in their basket, but today Finch had been fussing about making some special snacks for when Reese came and had left the toys scattered about.
However, it didn’t take Bear long to find what he was after. It had been an early Christmas present from Shaw. (‘Oh, let him have it now, it’s not as if he knows when Christmas Day is.’ ‘I suppose, Ms Shaw, that means you have another present for him for the actual day.’ Shaw had shrugged, which meant probably meant she had.) Bear picked up the toy carefully, not wanting to make a noise. It was a squeaky rubber bunch of mistletoe, although it no longer squeaked quite as loudly as it had.
Bear carried his toy over and sat in front of the sofa.
Reese leant forward. “Do you want to play?” he asked.
At the same moment, Finch also leant slightly forward, so their heads were still close together.
Bear took his chance and tossed the mistletoe into the air, over their heads. Both men looked up and laughed, and then Reese pulled Finch back so he wouldn’t be hit by the falling toy. And then they kissed. Bear was delighted.
A few minutes later, Reese said, “I imagine you want to keep this secret.”
Finch laughed. “I rather doubt it will come as a surprise to anyone. But promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“That you don’t Ms Shaw what finally prompted us. She’ll only claim it as all her own doing.”
Bear agreed with that. After all, it had been his idea, not hers.