Chapter Text
John double-checked he had all the essentials: extra ammo, extra gun, and his second favorite knife before packing a few clothes. He wasn’t worried about that. Harold seemed to have clothes for John at all the safehouses. Of course, this location was more of Harold’s home, and John swallowed hard.
He checked his phone. No number. No text from chatty Cathy, and he bit his lower lip. He was fine. They’d slept together last night, and this might be no different. He wouldn’t push him. He took a deep breath.
Harold didn’t need help down the stairs this morning, and John was a little disappointed in that. The car was still out front, and John got the door for Harold because he could.
“Can we check on Daniel before we hit the bookstore?” John asked, scanning the street for trouble before going around to slide behind the wheel. The pub was locked up tight, but it paid to be careful.
“Of course.” Harold buckled up, staring down at his phone. “I feel completely adrift at sea.”
“You were gone in that black hole for a while.” John took a shortcut through a construction site, seeing the side-eye Harold cut at him. It was still a good twenty minutes before they pulled up outside the brownstone. Daniel’s car was there, but he was sitting in it, just staring straight ahead. “Harold, would you mind waiting here?”
“I suppose.” Harold never looked up from his phone.
John made sure his sweatshirt was over his gun when he got out, striding over to the car. Daniel got out and met him near the bumper. “Lots of white folks.”
“Some not-so-white, too.” John put his hand on Daniel’s shoulder, giving him a small shake of encouragement. “Let’s take a look around. You might like it.”
Daniel nodded, licking his lips. “I was scared the neighbors would call the cops.”
“Nearly everyone goes to work, but it never hurts to be careful.” John tapped his ear bud. “Harold, run an analysis of this neighborhood, classify by race, please.”
“Really? You can do that?” Daniel asked at the same time Harold agreed to do just that.
“Harold can do anything.” John took the key back from him, and they went up the steps together. Opening up the door, John let him go inside first. “You have furniture?”
“Just a few things, mostly clothes. I promised Eric that I’d get it all out by the end of the week.” Daniel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m gonna miss his fancy ass.”
John thought Daniel could do better, but that should be left unsaid. “I guess that means we have to hire a waitress.”
“Shit.” Daniel moved from room to room, finally trotting upstairs. John went to wait for him in the kitchen. When Daniel reappeared, he ducked outside. “The backyard is pretty nice!”
John walked that way; his skin almost crawling at how indefensible it was. “Get that outdoor grill you’ve been wanting. I’ll come over and show you how to use it.”
“Ah, shut up.” Daniel thumped down into a lawn chair. “You know it’s going to be damn hard for me to sleep in the pub kitchen after this place.”
“The health inspector would prefer you sleep here.” John sat down across from him, enjoying the cool breeze.
“There are three Black families on this block, one Asian, and the rest are white,” Harold said in John’s ear. “There is no neighborhood watch program.”
“Three Black families, one Asian, no watch program.” John shrugged. “Twenty-minute drive.”
“I was driving forty-five from Eric’s.” Daniel scrubbed his face. “Feels like charity.”
“I sleep in your place for free. You can sleep in mine.” John didn’t smile. He respected Daniel’s pride. “If you want to switch, we can.”
“You hate this place.”
“There is that. Harold, what else do I own?”
“There’s a condo over by Central Park.”
“Ugh. I have a condo. Get that look off your face. I lose track of my investments. Harold deals with it.” John glared into Daniel’s shrewd eyes. “It makes him happy.”
Daniel suddenly grinned, laughing softly. “But you didn’t tell him about my bar.”
John shrugged, flashing a smile. “I was getting there. No reason to rush before you were sure about me.”
They merely looked at each other long enough to make John nervous. Daniel got to his feet. “You’re not my type.”
“Same.” John handed him the key, hoping this was the end of it. “I like living above the bar.”
“I hated it, so many excuses never to go upstairs, and I could never really relax. I’ll try here. May get to thinking I’m all high and mighty, living in luxury.” Daniel trailed him to the door. “Seahawks tomorrow?”
“Come hell or high water. I will not be cooking.” John pointed his finger at him. “So, don’t try anything.”
“I’d never come between you and your awful team.” Daniel took the shot to his arm with a grunt. “Seahawks, nothing but seagulls. Stupid.”
“I will shoot you, soldier.” John could see Daniel didn’t believe him. “Later.” He trotted across the street to Harold. “He’s going to give it a try.”
“That’s good. He’d hate that condo. I’m not sure why we bought that.”
“That number, with the…” John furrowed his brow, not sure he wanted to go down that memory lane.
“Ah yes, it’s coming back to me. I’ll sell it immediately.” Harold tapped his head with his index finger. “I hope my brain comes back on-line soon. Bookstore?”
“And coffee.” John got them moving, deciding not to worry about Harold’s brain. He knew a good spot, and after he’d parked, he looked at him. “You want me to get you some tea?”
“We shouldn’t take drinks inside.” Harold got out of the car with no hesitation, heading for the coffee wagon. “Should I ruin Eric’s credit?”
“Tempting.” John queued up behind him, scanning the crowd. “But Daniel shouldn’t have lied about the business.”
“Well, they weren’t married.” Harold edged forward. “I think it was more about jealousy. It’s difficult to watch other people get along splendidly and feel like the odd man out.”
John could hear the voice of experience there. “Eric may change his mind, and Daniel would take him back in a hot minute.”
Harold stepped up for his turn and ordered his tea, one sugar, and John’s coffee, one squirt of cream. They took their drinks to the nearest bench, and John soaked up the Fall sun, just enjoying the day.
“This is nice,” he said, meaning it.
“It is.” Harold was close enough for their knees to touch, and he smiled at him. Breath caught in John’s throat, and he would’ve spit coffee everywhere, but he pulled his lips back at the last moment. Harold chuckled. “You’re exactly my type.”
John was fairly sure his eyes couldn’t get any wider. “This is your brain off-line?”
“I apologize. I have no filter,” Harold said with a small sigh. “And I’m only thinking of two subjects, possibly three.” He shook his head. “I hyper-focused for so long my mind is literally tired.”
“Too many mental pushups.” John nodded like he understood. “What two subjects?”
“You, what books might be available, and tweaks I’ll make to our chatty Cathy later.” Harold sipped his tea. “Pathetic output.” He wiggled his phone. “Let me make some arrangements for this evening.”
“That’s four things.” John managed a smile, wondering where this was all going to lead and daring to hope. “We should have something interesting for dinner, like hot pot, or fondue, or both.”
“And s’mores.” Harold’s eyes sparkled. “I love s’mores.”
“That? I never would’ve guessed.” John drained his coffee and stood to go toss it in the trash, giving him a chance to take another scan. It was a quiet day, and Harold was done quickly enough. They went to the bookstore, where Harold was greeted by name.
John didn’t hover, just browsing and finding a book on rifles that looked interesting. He kept an ear on Harold, who was animatedly talking about a first edition that he wanted to purchase.
When the shop owner gave him a second funny look, John purchased the book and went outside to wait. He didn’t even have time to find a place to lean before Harold was opening the door and motioning him inside. Surprised, John went.
“Harold.” John followed him to the back of the store.
“John.” Harold sat at a table and motioned him to do the same. “I own this bookstore.”
“Color me shocked.” John could see the man working the register give him a look that might be interpreted as a glare. “The employees aren’t very friendly.”
“They tend to be over-protective of me.” Harold scooted his chair a touch closer. “If you need a place to hide, come inside, tell the cashier that you need a book on submarines. Whoever is on duty will take you below.”
John furrowed his brow at him. “What if someone really wants a book on submarines?”
“The password changes each month.” Harold shrugged. “The bolt hole has food and water and a first aid kit, but only one way in or out.”
“Desperation, huh?” John was still glad to know. “How many of these do you have?”
“Several. The Machine can direct you to the closest one at any time.” Harold put his hand on John’s knee. “Harold Osprey is a secretive man, lurking about and being mysterious.”
“I like him already.” John wanted a list he could memorize. “How many libraries do you own?”
“I bought fifteen originally.” Harold peered down at John’s book. “Don’t you have that one?”
“This one is about rifles, not handguns.” John wasn’t returning it. “Is Cathy making us a list of potential recruits?”
Harold’s eyes darted. “Possibly. There are a number of items we need to address.”
“But your brain needs to be at a hundred percent first.” John dared to brush his fingers along Harold’s temple. “Let’s go for a drive, maybe do nothing.”
“It is your day off.” Harold got to his feet, blushing. He went up to the counter and thanked the older gentleman, who nodded.
John trailed him out to the car, hoping that blush was for him and getting the door. “I’ve always wanted a bookstore.”
“You have your hands full with that pub.” Harold fiddled with his phone. “I should be working.”
John was against that. He took Harold on a relaxing drive, not rushing, and finding a spot to park so they could go for a stroll. At the first bench, Harold sat, and John took a good look before sitting next to him. Harold reached, pulled his hand back, and then settled it on John’s thigh like a tiny bird that might flutter away at any moment.
“Thank you,” John whispered, knowing how Harold liked formality. He slowly placed his hand on top of Harold’s, protecting. “If we go to your place, we could read books and drink tea.”
“You do know how to tempt me.” Harold got to his feet, lacing their fingers together, possibly so John couldn’t escape. “I’ll drive. It requires facial recognition at the gate.”
“I’m impressed, and I haven’t seen the place yet.” John could admit, only to himself, some rampant curiosity about where Harold lived, even just one of the places. Harold adjusted the car seat, after giving him a look, and John hid his grin. Saturday traffic was light, for a change, and John absolutely didn’t back seat drive.
***
Harold could see how hard it was for John not to give him advice, even though John had no idea where they were going. They both had issues with control, but Harold thought John was much better at managing it.
John said nothing as Harold navigated to the front gate, took them underground and then up two levels to his usual parking place. Harold watched John turn hyper-vigilant, as if assailants lurked behind every vehicle.
“Elevator is this way.” Harold made sure John had his bag and his book, ignoring the button and punching in a code. John’s back nearly brushed against Harold’s, and Harold hadn’t realized car garages produced such anxiety in John. “Are you alright, John?”
“Just don’t like the potentials.” John pushed the button so the door would close quickly. Harold entered another code on the keypad, and it took them up to his floor. A locked door led to another locked door, and John gave him a side-eye. “These doors wouldn’t stop me.”
“The alarm is rather aggressive.” Harold pointed up at the camera and rapped on the last door. “Steel. It’d slow you down.”
John shrugged like he wanted to try, and Harold put his thumb on the pad to trigger the release. The door swung open, and Harold stepped out of John’s way so he could clear the room. He was fairly sure John wasn’t even aware he was doing it any longer.
“View of the Hudson?” John’s eyes were flitting. “Modern furniture? You live here?”
“Occasionally. I do like the view.” Harold moved to the windows. “Feel free to poke around.” He sat down to wait. He knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t. John was back, eyebrows up. Harold smiled. “Mr. Reese, I can’t do everything for you.”
John narrowed his eyes at him, took in the room’s size again and started stalking the walls. Harold enjoyed watching him tug at this and that, trying to find a secret door or passageway.
Finally, John turned to him. “Okay, genius. Show me what you got.”
Laughing, Harold, eased up and went to the desk. He sat down, opened the drawer, and pulled out a pen. It looked completely normal. He clicked it and said, “Open.”
The far wall turned on its axis. John glared. “Completely not fair.”
“I never said it was.” Harold put the pen away and trailed after John, seeing the nods of satisfaction. The rotating wall made furniture placement a bit tricky, but he’d solved that problem with tables attached so they moved with it. He’d been satisfied with the results. “Please check my spatulas for quality.”
“Oh, I will.” John waved his hand at the wall. “You should shut that. It’s another level of security.”
“Exactly.” Harold went to his desk and turned the switch on the lamp. The wall closed with a snick, and he felt himself relax just a bit more. He was safe here, especially with John at his side. “Let me give you the tour.”
Harold thought that John approved of the kitchen, at least the appliances. He saw him shoot him a short glare at the empty fridge however. “I can have whatever you want delivered within the hour.” He shrugged. “There is a fine selection of wine and whiskeys.”
“I’ll make a list.” John didn’t seem to be joking. “You sleep here?”
“It’s one of my favorites, but we do keep busy, and it’s a bit of a drive.” Harold had spent most of his life trying to acquire the money that would allow him to have fine things, but he learned that they meant nothing. Nathan had warned him, but Harold had never listened. “I like your apartment very much.”
“It’s a risk, but...” John stepped close, staring down into Harold’s eyes. “You ever want something and you’re not sure why?”
“I have a tendency to over-analyze everything.” Harold hoped that was warning enough. He put his hand flat on John’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. “I knew you’d be good at your job, but what I couldn’t know was how much I would come to care for you.”
“I’m just glad to hear there are things you don’t know.” John put his hand over Harold’s, sending heat straight through him. “You’re swaying ever so slightly. Let’s get you in a comfortable chair.”
Harold did feel a bit groggy, but he thought maybe it was the smell of John’s... well, John hadn’t shaved, so it must just be how John smelled, and Harold needed to sit down.
John hovered until Harold was ensconced in his favorite chair, legs up on the plush ottoman. There was a short pause, and then John took Harold’s shoes off, which seemed dreadfully intimate.
“Now, you’re stuck here with me,” John said, disappearing to the other end of the apartment with Harold’s shoes. Harold assumed John was putting them away, or at least he hoped so. He tugged a small throw over his legs and told his spine to relax. This was safe. This was good.
When John did appear, he put tea down by Harold’s right hand. “How’s your brain?”
“Dozing.” Harold was unable to resist smiling up at him. “When did you learn to cook?”
“My mom got me started. She said I had talent.” John settled the throw around Harold before finding his own chair. He had a cup of coffee. “Can I make a suggestion?”
Harold’s interest helped wake him up. He sipped his tea, enjoying it. “Please.”
“I know you have a real job at Heritage. Resign.” John was very intense about this subject. His eyes shined. “If we’re going to change how we work, we’ll need you full-time managing people and your machine.”
“I agree.” Harold could see the surprise in John’s eyes. “And you’ll definitely want to hire a waitress at the pub.”
John raised his eyebrows. “I was thinking I’d find another partner for Daniel.”
“I’m not giving up burger night.” Harold did his best to sound indignant. “And I have plans for Daniel.”
“I was afraid of that.” John sighed. “I suppose I could invite Fusco to burger night.”
Harold didn’t trust Fusco, not yet, but the detective was evolving. There was hope for him, and perhaps all he needed was a push. A buzzer interrupted their conversation, and John flashed to his feet, hand going to his back.
“Please don’t shoot the food.” Harold tossed off the throw and extended his hand. “Are you hungry?”
John’s strong hand helped Harold to his feet and steadied him. “Yes, I believe I am.”
“Good.” Harold kept hold of John’s hand again. It was quite forward of him. “Kitchen.”
John glanced at the closed wall, and Harold tugged him to the kitchen, punching in a code near the hatch. The hatch was tastefully disguised amidst the oven and microwave.
“Fancy dumbwaiter.” John seemed bemused by it. “Big enough for a person?”
“A child, perhaps.” Harold shrugged. The hatch opened, and John narrowed his eyes before starting to remove all the containers.
“A bomb, yes, but no kid older than a baby.” John was always thinking about mayhem. He shut the hatch. “Doesn’t seem like enough.”
“One package of three.” Harold pointed at the display. “I’ll set the table.” He didn’t move quickly, feeling stiff after his nap. John made noises over the food, so Harold thought he was pleased. When the table was ready, John fiddled with the food, arranging and making sure the hot pot was properly working. Harold watched him, finding pleasure in it. “Once I eat, I may fall asleep right here in this chair.”
“I’ll put you to bed.” John seemed very serious. He usually was. “Just don’t slump into your plate.”
“I’d never!” Harold tried to protest vigorously, but he saw that he failed.
“There are two different sources of flame. Let me do everything.” John tapped Harold’s forehead with his index finger. “You’re offline.”
“I want to toast my marshmallow,” Harold said, putting a bit of stubborn into his voice.
“No promises.” But John grinned for a split second. “I like this place. Great views, bulletproof glass, good security.”
“And there’s a panic room with an escape hatch,” Harold whispered. “Don’t tell them I added that part.”
John’s eyebrows were up. “I won’t.” He leaned closer. “Show me later.” His voice was low and husky and his eyes were very bright.
Harold laughed. Today had been amazing.
***
John was impressed that Harold stayed awake long enough to eat half of his s’more, but between wiping his mouth and nudging his plate away, his eyes drooped shut. Having expected this for the last half hour, John was there to get him up and moving towards the bathroom.
Unfortunately, Harold was fully asleep before they crossed the threshold, and John picked him up to carry him to the bed. Harold grumbled, but his eyes stayed shut. Careful of his neck and hip, John undressed him and watched him wiggle around, shoving pillows.
The snoring signaled that he was settled, and John smiled as he went back to finish the s’mores. The view was amazing, and the food was great, and John had time to reflect on his life.
Instead, he smoked a cigar, just enjoying the quiet. The leftover food went in the fridge, and he gave a quick wash to the dishes. Satisfied, he went to check all the doors.
Leaving a few lights on, just in case, he went to bed, deciding not to over-think it. He undressed, made sure his boxers were clean, and made himself comfortable on his side of the bed. The sheets were ridiculously soft, and the mattress was sinful. He grinned and wiggled his shoulders, sighing with comfort.
“I’m getting old,” he whispered.
Harold’s hand landed on John’s chest. He hummed, not a word, just noise, and John held perfectly still, but Harold did nothing else. Breathing out softly, John shut his eyes.
For once, sleep swept him away, and he dreamed of cooking with his mother.
***
Harold woke up between one breath and the next, mind abuzz with ideas and problems that needing solving. What he needed was to check his phone, make sure there was no number, not yet.
John snored lightly next to him, and Harold smiled, glad for this quiet moment in the dark with him. Maybe, this once, it’d be acceptable to stay abed.
***