Work Text:
As the vibrant hues of October painted the streets of New York, the Library stands as a stoic fortress in the lively autumnal backdrop. Inside, the hum of computers and the rustle of papers fill the air, enveloping Harold Finch in a cocoon of work. His fingers dance across the keyboard, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, the weight of their clandestine operations reflected in the furrow of his brow. His focus is unwavering as he delves into the intricacies of their latest case. John Reese, his loyal companion and protector, notes the change in the season with a spark in his eyes. The scent of fallen leaves and damp earth whispers through the cracks in the windows, but Harold remains steadfast in his focus, oblivious to the subtle dance of nature outside.
He hadn't noticed John's leave of absence until the man bounds into the Library with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He holds a smooth and round acorn in his hand, chiding the older man, "Harold, you've been buried in those screens for too long. Time to breathe in some fresh air. Breathe in the beginning of change."
Harold hums and raises an eyebrow, his attention tethered to the complex web of data before him. Oblivious to the acorn's significance, he dismisses it with a wave of his hand, much to John's amusement. "That's nice, Mr. Reese. But please, let's focus on our number."
Undeterred, John spies a chestnut resting on the windowsill, its spiky shell catching the sunlight. He picks it up and places it on Harold's desk, careful not to tip anything over.
"Come on, now. Embrace the season with me. You can't ignore the signs of fall forever," John teases.
Harold sighs softly, his mind preoccupied with algorithms and code. "I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Reese. But we must remain hypervigilant."
John walks away, not willing to give up. He joins Bear, their loyal Belgian Malinois, at the nearest window. They take in nature as October paints the city in golden browns and fiery reds. Bear is a very smart dog and, with a twinkle in his eye, John instructs him to fetch a particular item. Bear dashes out of the room and returns moments later, a pine cone delicately held in his mouth. The precious dog looks up at John with big doe eyes, and John clicks his tongue.
"Go show Papa."
Bear understands and pads into Harold's work area, tail wagging in excitement. When the older man looks over, Bear drops the pine cone at his papa's feet, and Harold chortles.
"Alright, alright. Maybe I've been too focused on work," Harold admits, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
John beams, pleased to see Harold finally acknowledging the beauty of the changing season.
"John, be a dear and fetch my coat, would you?"
He happily does so as Harold finds Bear's leash. They emerge into the crisp afternoon, a symphony of colors enveloping them. The crunch of fallen leaves underfoot is accompanied by the distant chirping of birds filling the air. The sounds of their fond banter mix with the rustling, and Bear finds a squirrel particularly interesting. The men let him run more freely at the dog park once they arrive, and Harold's eyes fall upon a lone pinecone nestled among the fallen leaves. A resigned sigh escapes his lips as he carefully stoops down to pick it up
"John, sometimes I believe you and Bear are the only ones who truly appreciate the simplicity of the changing seasons."
John chuckles and leans down to plant a kiss on Harold's temple, warmth spreading through his chest.