1. Vacation

WARNING: Smut ahead!

Reese walked into the library with coffee for himself and green tea for Finch, only to find his employer asleep (and not for the first time) in his chair, his head fallen on the desk out of sheer exhaustion. He set the cup of tea down quietly so as to not disturb him and stepped soundlessly to the window where he leant against the sill, sipping his coffee. His gaze wandered from the dilapidated scene outside of the window to Finch’s face, smushed as it was against the surface of the desk. A slow smile crept at the corners of his mouth as he watched the other man sleep. So peaceful. So vulnerable. Reese had felt himself growing increasingly protective of his benefactor, colleague, and (he hoped) friend, though he had not yet decided whether that was a good or a bad thing.

Only time will tell, he thought stoically.

He knew that Finch was not expecting him, having given him the day off to rest and recuperate from his ordeal with the old spy. The torture methods the man had used on Reese had been archaic, but effective nonetheless. However, Reese had endured worse and survived – not only survived, but succeeded in not divulging any of the information his captors had wanted. That was what he had been trained to do, of course, although Reese suspected that his success had been due in large part to a trait of which he had been accused as a teenager: sheer cussedness. It was as good a reason as any, as long as it kept him alive.

Finch stirred, mumbling something incoherent in his sleep. Reese decided that he had been in that uncomfortable position for long enough.

“Finch. Wake up, Finch.”

The man groaned as he tried to straighten himself and sit up in the chair. Then, as he reached for his glasses and became aware of his surroundings, he squinted at Reese in surprise.

“Mr. Reese. I thought I had given you the day off.”

“You did. I decided to check in anyway, in case you’d gotten a new number.”

Adjusting his glasses on his nose, Finch peered into the ever-changing monitor.

“No… or rather, if there had been, it was deleted at midnight. I wasn’t keeping tabs on it, since I assumed that you wouldn’t be available.” He turned his piercing gaze back to Reese. “You really should be resting, you know. Running yourself ragged won’t do you any favors, and in the long run, it won’t help the people who may need to depend on your skills for their lives.”

“Falling asleep at the computer won’t do you any favors, either,” Reese smoothly deflected. “That can’t be good for your neck.” He approached the desk and set his coffee down, at once shifting Finch’s attention to the cup of tea that he had brought and distracting him from what he was about to do. “So tell me… if you weren’t keeping tabs on what the Machine was spitting out, what were you doing on the computer all night?”

“Research,” Finch replied, but something about the terse manner in which he spoke told Reese that he was uncomfortable discussing it in detail. “There were some… other matters that I wished to investigate.”

Reese had walked behind Finch to remove his suit coat, hanging it up on the antique hat rack in the corner, but he saw Finch hurriedly close a few of the windows on his monitor. Even at that distance, though, he caught a glimpse of human musculature with a row of needles bristling out at key points.

“Acupuncture?” he said with sardonic amusement. “Are you considering taking up Eastern medicine as your new cover?”

Finch swallowed, realizing that he had been found out and would have to come clean.

“No, Mr. Reese. I was simply curious as to the effects, and after-effects, of severe nerve trauma on the human anatomy and psyche. I wanted to know if there were any treatments that might mitigate the lingering results of such damage.”

“Mr. Finch,” Reese smiled, approaching his chair from behind, “I’m touched.”

“I have come to rely on your skills and expertise, Mr. Reese,” Finch blandly replied without removing his eyes from the screen. “I need you to be in top condition on all of our cases.”

“And I could say the same to you, Finch,” Reese answered, positioning himself behind the other man and placing his hands – gently but firmly – on his shoulders. Finch’s already-tense muscles flinched at the touch and bunched up in a defensive reflex. “You need to stop pulling all-nighters when it’s not a matter of life and death, and you really need to stop sleeping on the desk like that. I’ve come to rely on your skills and expertise, too, Finch, and I need you to be in top condition on all of our cases as well. And please, try to relax. You should know by now that I will never hurt you. And I’m very good with my hands.”

As he said this, Reese had begun to rub Finch’s taut muscles, running his thumbs along the tight cords connecting the base of his neck to his shoulders. His slender fingers were pressing very gently and tentatively above his collarbone, searching out the sore spots by instinct. Finch gasped, his breath hitching in his chest.

“Wh-What are you doing?” he stammered, alarmed.

“Trying to undo all of the bad things you’ve been doing to yourself,” Reese calmly replied, his hands never ceasing their movements. They had now slid down to span Finch’s angel bones, probing for the pressure points hidden there. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Trust me, Finch – this will do you more good than pills. Just… breathe.”

Hesitantly, Finch drew in a breath, releasing it in a long, drawn-out sigh.

“That’s right, nice and easy… Breathe in… breathe out… in… and out…”

Allowing himself to fall into the pace of Reese’s coaching, Finch also tried to relax his shoulders, but that was easier said than done. By the time he had released all of the tension he could control, Reese’s hands had traveled down his back (down to his belt) and up, pushing lightly at each pressure point on either side of his spine. As Reese rubbed the top of his shoulders again, Finch could not help tensing up – it was an inevitable reflex ever since his injury. He simply wasn’t comfortable with being touched so near it.

“Do you trust me, Finch?” Reese’s soft voice fell from somewhere above him.

Finch pursed his lips for a brief moment before answering, “Yes. But you have to understand—”

“I can tell where they had to fuse your spine. I promise, I won’t hurt you there,” Reese assured him. “What I’ll be working on is your muscle tissue. I’m afraid it will hurt, but it will feel better afterwards. Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” This time there was no hesitation.

“All right. Lean into it as much as you can, and don’t forget to breathe.”

Almost immediately, Reese’s thumbs found two sore spots and dug into them. Finch gasped in pain, but there was no escaping the other man’s strong grip.

“Breathe, Finch, breathe,” Reese urged, not relenting. “Feel the pain—embrace it. Then expel it with your breath.”

Slowly, awkwardly, Finch managed to draw one breath, then another. He felt the pain subside as though it really were being expelled with his breaths, until it became a good sort of pain. So good that he actually leaned against Reese’s iron-like thumbs, pressing them even further into those sore spots, letting them dig out the pain and turn it into heat. His last breath was a sigh of relief.

“Good. Now we just need to do that for all of them,” Reese said, rubbing those spots in small, circular motions, allowing the last vestiges of pain and heat to dissipate.

Finch found himself panting, and was surprised to discover that it had been an effort – even though he had barely moved, it felt as though he had been holding up a tremendous weight, using not only the muscles directly involved but his entire body.

“Is this… something you learned… at the Agency?” he asked through ragged breaths, more to put off the next ordeal than to find out the answer.

Reese grinned as he replied, “Not exactly. On one of my assignments, I was fortunate enough to meet a Japanese expatriate who was a master of aikidoh – a martial art that studies how the human body works, to exploit its strengths and weaknesses in combat. But he wouldn’t teach me the techniques for taking life alone; it had to be paired with the knowledge of giving life and promoting health, he said, for it to be truly effective. I’ve been grateful for that knowledge on more than one occasion.”

“I suppose… I ought to be grateful… that he taught you so well, also,” Finch managed. “But right now, I’m not sure I have the… stamina… to go through with this.”

“Drink your tea,” Reese advised, “while I go get us some breakfast. You’re right that it takes stamina to get through an acupressure treatment. But I know from experience that it’s worth it.”

Finch nodded and stood up, noting that in the same amount of time Reese had thrown on his suit coat, quaffed the last of his coffee, and crossed the room to the door. He had paused there, however, and stood looking back at Finch thoughtfully.

“You know, Finch,” he began, then stopped, uncharacteristically irresolute.


“Since there’s no new number for today, perhaps we should both take a vacation.”

“I thought I had already given you the day off, Mr. Reese.”

“I know. But I had something more… different… in mind…”


Reese hesitated once again before elaborating.

“Call it a… company-wide spa retreat,” he finally managed, with a sidelong smile.

“A… what?” Finch said, flabbergasted.

“A spa retreat,” Reese repeated. “See if you can get us reservations at some uptown, upscale hotel – one that has a pool and a Jacuzzi. Preferably in the suite itself.”

Seeing that Finch was still staring at him, open-mouthed, Reese wryly added, “With as tense as your knots are, you could stand to soak in a Jacuzzi for a few hours. For that matter, so could I. You have heard of Jacuzzis, haven’t you?”

“I believe so, yes,” was Finch’s dry reply. “Would you care for anything else?”

“Well, I suppose we’ll need swimming trunks,” he responded, “unless you happen to have a spare pair that I could borrow?”

“I don’t own any swimming trunks, Mr. Reese.”

“Well, then, we can stop by Macy’s on our way. I’m sure they must have a few Speedos in stock, even in the off season.”

With that comment and a sultry smile, Reese exited the library, leaving Finch to wrestle with the mental image of the two of them wearing Speedos in a Jacuzzi.

Leave a comment


  1. Lisianpeia

     /  2013/04/12

    “leaving Finch to wrestle with the mental image of the two of them wearing Speedos in a Jacuzzi.”

    I’m pretty ok with that image LOL

    I’ve been reading a lot of fanfiction where John gives Finch a massage and all I can think is “would you be willing to come over my place? I could really use one” ^^

    • I’m glad you like how this is starting out. 😉
      ROFL — I’m pretty sure Finch was NOT okay with that image, at least not yet… 😉
      Oh, I hear you — I would LOVE to get a massage from either of them! Hope you like the rest of this story. 😀

  2. I LOVE how you are developing the chemistry between these two. I am a new fan of Person of Interest, but I could easily see this playing out in my head. You are AWESOME!


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