#rinchfest

A bit of a clusterfuck, but I'm keeping it.

I mentioned in my various posts across my socials that what could go wrong did go wrong for this work. So I just threw whatever on it and see what happened. A happy accident? Maybe. I'm just not feeling the "happy" part at the moment.

If Harold thought John was overly protective before, he was unprepared for the shift that occurred after they'd officially become an item. John became something possessive, and fierce. He always placed himself between Harold and any perceived threat.

Part of it was left over from John's military and CIA training, but Harold knew there was more to it. John always had to be touching Harold in some way- a hand on his shoulder or his knee, ankles brushing under restaurant tables. When they were apart on a mission, John would collapse into Harold's arms when they were reunited. It caught Harold off guard, how affectionate John became when Harold gave him permission.

It was far from unwanted- Harold hadn't had any intimacy with anyone in quite some time, and it felt... wonderful, if slightly strange. He couldn't help but feel a flutter now, when John placed a hand on the small of his back, or a soft kiss to his temple. It was a frequent reminder to Harold, that John was his partner in more ways than one.

The point was really driven home when Harold was in the field. Well, "in the field" was a friendly way of saying being held at gunpoint," but Harold viewed it as a necessary evil, in order to rescue the Machine's designated number, who, as far as Harold knew, was in a safe house with John, while Harold was negotiating.

"I assure you, all of  your demands will be met, in exchange for Miss O'Brien's safety," Harold said, his soft voice echoing in the vast emptiness of the warehouse.

The mobster sneered. "Well, maybe I ain't done making demands yet."

Harold swallowed. He'd come prepared for the initial agreement and not much else. He was massively outnumbered. If the mob overestimated how deep his pockets were, he'd really be in trouble.

All at once, there was a pop, and the mobster in question fell to the ground with a shout. Two more pops brought two more mobsters to their knees.

"Was this your idea?!" one of the gunmen yelled, swinging his rifle around and aiming at Harold's head. "I swear to god I'll-"

The gunmen was dead before he could finish his sentence, collapsing at Harold's feet. Harold staggered backwards. All of the criminals had been easily dispatched, to Harold's surprise and great confusion.

From the top of a shipping container, John descended with his rifle in hand. He stormed forward with long strides, his eyes glaring and his expression dark. Dramatic shadows from the overhead lights cast harsh lines across his brow and cheekbones. And Harold knew why people looked so afraid when they spoke of "The Man in the Suit."

As John reached Harold, his demeanor changed completely. He slung his gun over his back and reached out to touch Harold, checking him over for wounds and bruises. "Are you all right?" he asked urgently, "Did they hurt you?"

Harold blinked, amazed to see John before him. "You came for me," he murmured.

John didn't seem fazed by this. "Of course I did," he said, not breaking his concentration, "You're my partner." He missed the softening of Harold's eyes when he turned, looking for approaching threats. "Let's get out of here," John added, guiding Harold with an arm around his waist, "I'll drive."

They were in the car before Harold found his voice to speak again. "I can't believe you came for me," he echoed as the warehouse disappeared in the rear view mirror.

"Before you chew me out," John started, "I left Miss O'Brien with Fusco. You can't expect me not to protect you, now that we're... you know, official."

"No, that's not it," Harold replied, "As much as I might not approve of you prioritizing my safety." John titled his head, and Harold sighed. "I spent a long time making myself invisible. In that time, I made sure that nobody cared about me, so that nobody else would get hurt."

John glanced at his partner. He knew Harold was thinking of Grace, and the life he left behind. He place his hand on Harold's thigh in a show of sympathy. Harold covered John's hand with his own before he continued.

"I did it to protect anyone I might come into contact with, but I also did it out of fear. I thought I was being selfless, but coming back from the dead was the hardest thing I've ever done." Taking a deep breath, he finished, "What I'm trying to say is that it's nice to be cared about again."

John smiled. He knew what Harold was talking about- letting someone close to him was terrifying, but being care for was worth it.

"I do care about you," John inserted, "and I won't let anything happen to you."

Harold pursed his lips. "Relationship status aside, you know that's not why I hired you."

"I'm not protecting you because it's my job, Harold. I'm doing it because I love you."

Harold gasped softly. His eyes glistened in the dim light of the passing streetlamps. "I love you, too, John," he replied. It was the first time the sentiment had been exchanged aloud, though they had both known for quite some time.

The car slowed to a stop at a red light, and John and Harold looked at each other. After a long moment, John cleared his throat. "Protecting people is what I do," he began, quietly, carefully, "If I can't keep the people that I love safe..." He swallowed, his voice thick with emotion. "If I can't do that... then what do I have to offer, to show them how much I love them?"

"Oh, John," Harold whispered, fighting back tears. Harold had always known that the impact of Jessica's death stemmed from John's unconditional love. Being on the receiving end of such ardent and unadulterated devotion was... powerful, bordering on overwhelming.

Bringing John's hand to his lips, Harold pressed a tender kiss to John's calloused knuckled, before pressing John's palm against his cheek. "You have so much more to offer," he said, his words feeling fragile in the heavy stillness, "but you are worthy of love regardless of what other stand to gain. Do you understand?"

John swallowed again, nodding silently. Harold had been quite generous with affection and they'd crossed the threshold, but John was unprepared to hear that he didn't have to earn it.