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John’s body seemed very small, bundled up in the covers on the tiny bed. Dark hair, liberally sprinkled with grey, peeked out from beneath the covers. The small strip of skin around his nose that was visible was still pale, but at least, John had stopped shivering.
Harold startled when a blanket was draped over his shoulders. He had been staring at the steady rise and fall of the covers, subconsciously matching his own breath with John’s slow and deep ones and his eyes had started to droop.
‘You should rest,’ Root said softly. ‘He’s safe now.’
‘I know.’ Harold sent her a quick, unconvinced smile. In truth he was worried sick.
John had been a little warmer when they dragged him down the stairs to the metro station, but he had started shivering again when Root had peeled off his shirt to expose the bullet wound. They had treated him as quickly as possible, but the damage was already done. When Root had helped John into a clean shirt and sweater, his face was as pale as at the moment they had found him.
The tea had helped a little, for all three of them, to drive out the cold from the inside. John had splayed his fingers against the warm mug and had clutched it to his breastbone to soak up the warmth. Then he had crawled into bed and Harold had settled in the chair to watch over him.
Root squeezed Harold’s shoulder in silent understanding. ‘I’ll take Bear for a walk. If you need anything, we won’t be far.’
‘Thank you.’
Harold pulled the blanket closer around his shoulders and turned his gaze back to John. He listened to the sounds of Root leading Bear up the stairs when suddenly a low, gravelly voice spoke up.
‘You’re worrying too much.’
Two sleepy, but focused eyes peeked over the edge of the covers. Harold sat up.
‘John. I didn’t realize you were awake.’
‘Can’t sleep. I’m still cold.’ John’s speech was articulate, but still slow, like the words were taking a lot of effort.
‘Do you want more tea?’ Harold was already moving to stand up when John shook his head. ‘Another blanket?’
‘Won’t help.’ John sighed resignedly.
They were quiet for a moment. John shifted under the covers. He looked pained, but Harold could sense that his discomfort had little to do with the cold.
‘I saw Joss,’ John said suddenly. ‘She talked to me.’
Tears shone in his eyes as he smiled at the bittersweet memory.
‘I figured,’ Harold said softly.
‘You did?’
‘You were hallucinating when we found you.’
‘Oh.’ John’s hand appeared above the covers to dry his eyes while he processed this information. ‘What’d I say?’
Harold’s lips tingled warningly, but he realized quickly that if John had remembered trying to kiss his deceased friend, he probably wouldn’t be looking so hopefully at Harold. Panic later, Root had said. This seemed like an excellent time to do just that.
‘You said her name and that you’d made it.’
And then you tried to kiss her. And kissed me instead. And I don’t know what to make of that.
Harold shuddered. He wasn’t panicking, not exactly. If anything, he was freaking out a little over the lack of panic about that kiss. Mainly Harold felt confused, because his first rational thought about John kissing him had been “I didn’t expect it to happen like this”, which meant that a) he had on some subconscious level expected them to kiss at some point and b) he had also considered how that might happen.
‘Are you cold?’ John looked worried.
Harold bit back a laugh. His cheeks felt like they were burning.
John frowned, misreading Harold’s expression entirely. ‘You should get in here.’
Harold stared at him dubiously. Surely he must have misheard that.
‘There’s no point in both of us being cold when we could share body heat,’ John insisted, a little impatient. ‘It works, I’ve done this before.’
Images of John sharing a bed with a stranger flooded Harold’s brain. Images of skin against skin, warm bodies melting together, shivering until they found warmth in each other and he had to stop himself right there before he would actually consider accepting the offer.
‘I shouldn’t.’
Being kissed by John while John thought he was someone else and holding his shivering body in the car was one thing. Climbing into a very small bed with John who was fully conscious was quite another.
‘Harold?’ John asked cautiously. ‘Did something happen?’
Considering everything that had happened during the past few hours, that was such an absurd question that Harold couldn’t hold back a laugh.
A little bit more of John’s face became visible. He didn’t seem to find it funny. ‘Would it help if I promise not to try to kiss you again?’
Harold froze. A cold feeling of unease trickled down his shoulder blades. ‘You remember that?’
‘Not exactly.’ John frowned. ‘There’s this vague memory of Joss… But that was you, wasn’t it?’
Harold stared at him helplessly.
‘Shit, Finch, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s fine.’
It was quiet again. Harold looked away, embarrassed. He wasn’t sure if he had just lied to John for the first time or not.
John shivered and pulled on the edges of the covers. He looked miserable.
‘Harold, I- I know I should have said something.’
‘You should have,’ Harold agreed. ‘Going in alone was reckless and selfish and it almost cost you your life.’
There was no anger behind the words, but they made John curl in on himself.
‘I know,’ he said quietly.
‘I was worried when I didn’t hear from you.’ Harold’s voice broke.
John’s eyes were glistening. ‘I’m sorry.’
Harold nodded. ‘Scoot over,’ he said and he started untying his shoelaces before he could change his mind. ‘I need to lie on my back.’
Immediately John shifted to make room for him. Harold looked bewilderedly as John started struggling under the covers and moments later his sweater was flung to the far end of the bed.
‘Too much isolation,’ John explained. ‘Give me the blanket.’
Following the example, Harold shrugged off his jacket. Shivering against the cool air, he sat down on the edge of the bed and carefully settled on the small mattress. John tossed the covers over him and tucked in the edges before using the blanket to cover the remaining gap.
As soon as Harold stopped shifting, John’s shivering form pressed against his side. One leg and arm slung over Harold’s body. John’s face was still half under the covers, tucked against Harold’s shoulder and neck.
‘Okay?’
‘I will be once you warm up,’ Harold muttered. John’s hands and feet were ice cold. Harold’s body on the other hand felt like it was about to combust into flames.
‘Sorry.’
Harold shifted to free his arm from under John’s heavy weight and it was only natural to wrap his hand around John’s side. He could feel John’s ribs move under his fingers with each breath and tried to focus on that movement instead of his own traitorously pounding heart and the panic that was finally starting to kick in.
He wasn’t ready for this. Only hours ago Harold had been forced to accept that he might be feeling something for John that went further than friendship. This wasn’t the moment to dig deeper into the nature of those feelings. Not while they were both exhausted.
Slowly their combined body heat - though Harold presumed his body was doing all the work - began to warm their little nest. John’s breath was warm on his neck as he sighed and his tense muscles started to relax a little.
Harold only realized his whole body had tensed when John’s finger tapped on his arm.
‘Stop thinking so hard. It’s distracting.’
‘From what?’
‘I want to sleep.’ John lifted his head and blinked up at him. To his surprise, Harold noticed that his face had a soft rosy color. Harold’s breath hitched and an unhappy crease appeared between John’s eyebrows, as if he could sense what was coming.
‘John, what exactly is it we’re doing here?’
John didn’t answer immediately. His finger brushed over Harold’s arm while he thought. ‘I’m cold,’ he said finally. ‘And I don’t want to be alone.’ He paused and his finger stilled.
‘And?’ Harold said softly, sensing that there was more.
‘I don’t think you want to be alone either. We both need rest and you can’t sleep in that chair.’
‘John-’
‘Can we just take it for what it is?’ John looked up at him pleadingly, but Harold could see a hint of fear creeping in. ‘Can we just sleep and maybe panic in the morning?’
Harold was positive that Root would have cheered if she had heard this. He could hear her voice, taunting him “Stop doubting yourself, Harry”. But maybe she was right. Maybe John was right.
‘Okay.’
John’s relieved expression was already worth this decision. Harold closed his eyes when John lay back down and relaxed more fully against his shoulder. He was comfortable, it was warm and feeling the weight of John’s body against him was reassuring. His last thought before he fell asleep was that Root’s expression would be priceless when she found them like this.