THE WAY YOU SAID “I LOVE YOU.“: 30. Too quick, mumbled into your scarf [ALL THE RINCH FLUFF <3]
“One vanilla ice cream please,” Reese ordered, as he pulleda bill out of his wallet.
The man behind the counter raised his eyebrows at that, butJohn ignored him.
“Ice cream?” he clarified, looking around at the white grass,and the light but perpetual snowfall covering everything and giving it a softsilvery glow.
“Yes. One. It’s for my boyfriend.” John could not helpsmiling when he said the word. It was still so new, even after months.
He must’ve looked deranged- Shaw did say that his smile wasscary- because there was a muttered, ‘yourfuneral’ and then a moment later an ice cream cone was offered to him.After paying, he turned around and walked to the park bench where Harold wassitting, and stood in front of him.
The man was typing enthusiastically, and the sigh John letout was thoroughly fond. He cleared his throat and Finch looked up abruptly.
“I was only just…” He closed the lid hastily, trying to hidethe laptop- like a kid caught doing something naughty. “I am done. It’s over. Iturned it off.” Putting it away he babbled, guilty.
“What did we decide about dates and work Harold?” Johnteased, just because he could.
“Sorry.” Harold looked down, chastised. “You were gone for abit and I thought I could check up on Mrs. Warish quickly,” he explainedanyway.
John smiled, “I guessed that.” He could hardly ever be upsetabout Harold’s empathy, and his concern of other people. “Now, do you want theice cream or not? I received a lot of raised eyebrows carrying it you know.”
Harold finally noticed the cone in his hand and his eyesshined as he quickly took the offered treat.
“Thank you,” he said, before giving the frozen dairy a tinylick, followed by a satisfied and pleased hum. John tried not to melt into apuddle because of how adorable the sight was.
“Shall we walk then?” John asked. Harold nodded, placing hislaptop carefully in his bag. John offered him his hand for support, and theninterlaced their fingers as they started walking. They had a movie to catch inan hour, but neither of them was in any hurry; instead, were casually enjoyingthe company.
They walked like that, hand in hand, and John was stillgiddy about that. Even after months. Of being able to publicly show what theywere, what they meant to each other. Of being able to call Finch his boyfriend.
Harold licked a large stripe of ice cream and let out ahappy moan. John could not stop himself from chuckling. It was so out ofcharacter for the usually stoic man, but at the same time, so very Harold.Enjoying little pleasures. Like ice cream in January.
“You like it?” John asked just for the sake of it. The smileand the little happy sounds were answer enough.
“I love it.” Harold glanced at him sincerely, and thenlooked away, hiding his nose in his scarf. The shy, too quick, mumble thatfollowed it was barely audible, spoken into the cloth, “I love you.”
John stopped in his tracks. Harold took a couple of stepsforward, only noticing that John wasn’t walking when the hand that he still hadclasped in John’s didn’t move. He turned and looked at John questioningly.
“What did you say?” John looked at him with wide eyes.
“You know what I said.” He looked away, his cheeks turningred against the backdrop of white.
“Harold.” John’s lips were stretching, a smile forming, ashe moved forward and crowded into Harold’s space. “What did you say?”
“Mr. Reese, it’s not like I haven’t said it before,” Hespoke to John’s chest, not looking up. He was right. Harold had definitely saidit before, but it was a rare enough occurrence that John still felt a thrill athearing it. He disengaged his fingers to hold Harold’s cheek in both hands -hisskin cold against his palms- and tilted his chin up so their eyes met.
“You have. I still want to hear it again,” he breathed out,instilling a little plea in his words, “Please.”
“I love you John.” Harold looked right into his eyes andspoke, his voice strong. The conviction in his words made John’s heart stop,and then start all over again, faster and stronger. He saw Harold lick hislower lip, and decided he wanted to do that too.
Their kiss was cold, both their lips freezing because of theweather, and it was sweet, the vanilla still lingering on Harold’s tongue. Itwas also warm and intimate and quickly bordering on desperate.
When they disengaged, John looked at the ruffled genius andasked, “Do you really want to watch that movie Finch?”
He blinked at him for a moment, confused, before slowlysmirking, “Yes. Yes I do.”
“You’re such a spoilsport,” John complained, mumbling againstFinch’s lips before kissing them one more time.
“There would be time for… sport… later. I am not going anywhere.” Harold chuckled, beforelinking their fingers again. He had somehow still managed to keep a hold on hisice cream through their make out and he went back to sampling it.
Slowly, the two men made their way towards the movie theaterin the cold January evening; one of them was eating a vanilla cone, and theother stared at him with glinting eyes. They drew every eye because of thebeautiful picture they made: of contentment; of partnership; of love.