In which Reese gets exceptionally drunk, but it’s a party so Finch will let it pass (even if Reese keeps making passes at him)
Reese was grinning at him again. Finch politely ignored the look, his gaze fixed forward.
“I like your glasses,” Reese said, his arm sliding across the bar table behind Finch and moving him ever so slightly closer. He was practically sideways, laying across it, and Finch’s eyes flickered down to look at him with a mildly concerned, mostly disgruntled expression.
“I believe you mentioned your affinity for them a few hours ago,” Finch informed him, “And almost every minute since.” He touched the frames attentively, despite his words.
“They look really nice,” Reese told him, sliding closer, while Finch scooted just slightly away. “You always look nice.”
“Mr. Reese,” Finch said, warning, as the man took a smooth sip of scotch and placed the glass back onto the counter. “I’m quite certain you’ve had far too much to drink to say anything you won’t regret later, so I suggest that you simply stop talking right now.”
“You already know what I’m going to say,” Reese said, sounding fairly confident. “You know everything about me.”
“I know an exceptional amount about you, Mr. Reese,” Finch agreed. “That doesn’t mean I have the ability to read your mind.”
“But you know,” Reese said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm to his splayed body, “How I feel.”
“You don’t want to have this conversation,” Finch said, with a faintly alarmed tone. They didn’t discuss it—the mutual feeling between them. It was easier—safer—to simply pass it off as nothing, as a close working bond forged from so much time spent on the front lines together. That was all it was. That’s all it would ever be.
“I’m happy,” Reese said, and Finch looked down at him fully, then. “You make me happy.”
“I… I’m glad,” Finch told him.
Reese nodded, and sat back in the barstool, looking perfectly satisfied to just leave it at that.
Finch noted, now, that he was the one staring at John, and silently berated himself for allowing himself to become so invested in this man, far more than an employee, a simple partner.
“To be perfectly clear, John, you also make me happy.”
John looked up at him, beaming like a ray of sunshine in the dark pub, and said, “I’m glad.”
