Work Text:
The library was bathed in a soft, dim light, broken only by the bluish glow of the screens that Harold was looking at, and by the light from the desk lamp near John.
They worked in comfortable silence. Harold was finishing up by cross-checking the information from their latest case to close the file, while John was bent over a Glock 19 at a work table, disassembling it with surgical precision to clean it. He loved this ritual and the satisfaction of knowing that no matter how urgent the situation, he would be ready.
"The firing pin shows slight signs of wear," John said without looking up, his deep voice breaking the silence. "Nothing serious, but it's better to prevent it from getting stuck."
He knew Harold wasn’t interested in any of this, but he took a mischievous pleasure in providing this kind of detail just to get a little dig in from his boss and now lover. It was a little game between them, just like John’s habit of asking trivial questions to learn more about Harold's life.
However, tonight, he received no response.
No "You can't do that anywhere else," or "How is that going to help me with what I'm doing?"
Nothing.
Just silence.
John looked up and gasped in surprise.
He often arrived at the library to find Harold asleep at his desk, but this time, Harold had fallen asleep while John was there and was sleeping soundly.
He was slumped over his desk with his head resting on his crossed arms and was surrounded by files, his deep, steady breathing indicating how soundly he was sleeping.
John gently placed the parts of his gun on the cloth, taking care not to make any sudden movements.
To say that John was astonished would be an understatement. For a man like Harold Finch, whose life was so secretive and who was so distrustful of the outside world, to fall asleep in such a vulnerable state while John was there was a sign of unfathomable trust.
John suddenly realized that he had never experienced anything like this. The feeling of being a place where someone could finally close their eyes without worry.
He got up as quietly as possible and went to fetch the woolen blanket he had seen in the corner of the library. He returned to Harold’s side and gently draped the blanket over his shoulders. Harold let out a soft sigh and continued to sleep peacefully.
John returned to his work table, finished assembling his weapon, and stowed it in the safe. Then he came back and sat in the same spot. He pushed his chair back, rested his feet on the table, crossed his arms, and leaned back in his chair.
He continued to watch Harold, basking in the calm of the moment, which was so rare in their lives. Gradually, weariness overcame him, and he eventually tilted his head back and sank into sleep, his eyelids closing on the sight of the one he had sworn to protect.
He was jolted awake by a strange sensation, like a gentle caress on his cheek.
He opened his eyes and saw Harold standing before him. Like John, he looked a little disoriented; his hair was tousled, and there was a mark from the fold of his shirt on his cheek. He had probably just woken up.
John sat up with a grimace, his neck protesting the awkward position in which he had slept.
"Did I sleep for a long time?" he asked, his voice slurred from sleep.
Harold replied, "I couldn't say. I just woke up myself."
John glanced at his watch.
"What? I slept for half an hour!"
Harold raised his hand and ran his fingers through John’s hair, brushing it back. Still not quite awake, John could almost have purred at the gentleness of the touch.
"Well, Mr. Reese," Harold murmured, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "you clearly don't see me as much of a threat if you can sleep like that with me in the room."
John laughed softly.
"I could say the same thing to you, Harold. After all, I’m technically the threat. And yet, you fell asleep like a child in my presence."
Harold’s hand paused in John’s hair, and their eyes locked. He gently tugged at John’s hair teasingly.
"Nonsense," he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "I know you'd never hurt me. I trust you completely."
John gasped in surprise. Realizing it was one thing, but hearing it said out loud was another. It wasn't so much the words as it was the absolute conviction with which they'd been spoken.
Seeing John’s trouble, Harold didn’t look away. He slid his hand along John’s face and gently cupped his chin.
"Did you doubt it?" he asked, his voice turning serious. "I see. You really did doubt it. Oh, John, I know I’m secretive and keep my life under lock and key. It’s a habit I’ve developed to protect myself, but not from you anymore. With you, it’s different. I have absolute trust in you. I’d put my life in your hands without hesitating for a second."
With his thumb, he traced the curve of John’s lips, which had remained slightly parted in surprise.
"And if you don't believe me," Harold added with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I'll be forced to use much more coercive measures."
Before John could reply, Harold leaned forward and captured his lips in a deep kiss, as if he wanted to pour every ounce of love and trust he felt into it.
John stood motionless for a moment, his eyes wide with surprise, before letting go and surrendering to the kiss. His hands instinctively reached for Harold’s shoulders and pulled him close. The kiss went on and on until they had to pull apart to catch their breath. Harold whispered, "Was that convincing enough?"
John let out a small, stifled laugh before wrapping his arms around Harold’s waist, burying his face in his lover’s stomach as Harold ran his fingers through his lover's hair.
They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the moment.
John was relishing the feeling of being cherished by someone who trusted him completely and whom he trusted completely in return.