PoI: Guard Dog
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Character/Pairing: Carter, Reese/Finch
Guard Dog
If there was one word to describe Reese when the little guy had been hurt on one of their cases, it would definitely be a guard dog, Carter decided.
When she had stepped inside the apartment that Reese had been using as a temporary safe house to drop off the supplies Reese had asked (demanded) her to get, she had found him intently watching over Finch, who was stretched out on the couch with blankets tucked in around him. But it had been Reese’s eyes that had stolen her attention; the intensity residing in them hadn’t surprised her, the man’s eyes were always focused (usually on the person he was following), it was something softer that seemed to linger around the edges that had caught her attention.
His gaze seemed to never leave the little guy’s face, as if watching every sleepy, half-formed nuance that flickered across the older man’s face. Carter swallowed thickly, trying to smoother the smile that was trying to escape her iron control; dear God, John was in love and the idiot probably didn’t even realize it.
Her lips twitched again when she saw his fingers flinch, as if he were stopping himself from soothing the small wrinkles of pain that had formed at the edges of the little guy’s eyes and forehead.
Deciding that she had watched long enough she stepped forward, out the shadowed doorway, her shoes echoing dimly in the room.
The speed of the gun pointed in her direction momentarily stole her breath away and she had to physically remind herself to not reach for her own, not when those eyes were dark and almost feral, especially without Finch to call him off.
She scowled at him, trying to slow her heart down that had been attempting to beat out her chest. “It’s just me John,” she said annoyed; lifting up the bag of groceries in her hand as a peace offering.
A sheepish, almost embarrassed look seemed to weigh down his expression for a few brief moments before it was smoothed away. “You really should knock detective,” he said, unconsciously mirroring the words Finch had used when he had found napping on his desk.
“Apparently,” she said dryly, walking closer, pointedly eyeing Finch. “He gonna be alright?”
A flash of guilt and rage chased across Reese’s features as Carter inadvertently reminded him of Finch’s injuries. “He just needs rest,” he said shortly, resuming his place by his partner’s side once more.
Carter huffed in amusement, setting the bag down on the nearby coffee table. “You know John, you should get some rest yourself. Constantly watching him isn’t going to make him heal any faster.”
He simply glanced up at her with the same eyes a dog would show if someone had attempted to tell the creature that its unquestionable loyalty was no longer needed. To Reese, the idea of leaving Finch for even a moment wasn’t even to be considered, not until he was thoroughly reassured that Harold was going to be ok and even then, he’d still be nearby. Just in case.
Loyal guard dog that he is.
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