POI fic: Odd Man Out
TITLE: POI fic - Odd Man Out
AUTHOR: whomii2
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 987
SUMMARY: Addams Family crossover #2. Reese recuperates with Finch's adoptive family (sequel to Homeward Bound)
John wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he became aware of his surroundings. He was in a sparsely furnished room with a rather muted and monochromatic color scheme. He relaxed when he saw evidence of Finch’s presence in the Jacket draped over the chair next to the bed and the book placed on the seat. Finch had shown himself capable in a similar situation before, so John could assume for the moment that wherever they were they were safe. His suppositions were proved correct when Finch entered the room carrying a steaming mug. He carefully hobbled over to place the mug on the bedside table. He helped John into a sitting position and passed him the mug. It had a bitter taste (some sort of herbal tea?). But the aches and pains John had become aware of started to fade quickly.
Feeling better and more alert, John began to take a closer look at his surroundings. He eyed the trophy on the wall and wondered if he was seeing things - a swordfish swallowing a leg? Certainly different from the quite elegance he had begun to associate with Finch. But it probably explained the lamp, after all most legs come in pairs. What sort of fun house had Finch brought them to?
Following Finch’s explanation as to their whereabouts, John wondered at the suspicious absence of Finch‘s adopted family. He grumbled to Finch that he would be on his best behavior and promised not to embarrass Harold or scare Harold’s family. Finch muttered “that’s not what I am worried about”
John sat bolt upright when he heard the first explosion. He started to struggle out of bed while rummaging through the nightstand for his gun. “John, John, calm down, its alright. They’re just playing golf.” “With live grenades?” “You would have to admit it makes the sport much more exciting” “John thought that yes, the ratings on the PGA tour would definitely go up if they introduced exploding ammo. Best not to mention that innovation.
John stared at Finch defiantly. He’d been lying around too long. He was ready to be up and about even if Finch disagreed. Unfortunately for John, Finch had called in reinforcements. Looking up up up at Lurch looming behind Harold in the hallway, John turned around and stumbled back to his bed before he suffered the indignity of being scooped up and carried. He didn’t want to tempt Finch into applying the restraints he had seen affixed to the bed (Harold had already shown he was willing and able for much less cause)
Finch had called in reinforcements again. John flushed scarlet, trying to disappear into the mattress as Morticia and Grandmamma made a rather intense examination of his various wounds and injuries. John resolved not to protest Finch’s mother-henning in the future, as the man clearly wasn’t above playing dirty.
John gave up on Fester as a lost cause. He was too much of a traditionalist and too attached to his sticks of dynamite, even though C4 was much more portable and could be more readily shaped for different size explosions. Though John was secretly impressed with the precision Fester could get with a tossed stick of dynamite. It was lucky Fester seemed to have a magic way with the old-fashioned explosive, considering how careless he was in handling it (an Addam’s family trait--total blasé about dangerous things)
At dinner John watched Finch closely, making sure to stick to only the foodstuffs he was eating. Any suspicious portions he fed to the plant, which ate it up rather literally (John had to watch his fingers).
Finch found John staring into a room filled with various instruments of torture. After a moment of silence John cleared his throat and asked “So, is Gomez or Fester a collector?” “Oh no. This is the children’s playroom.”
(John pouted silently. And Finch kicked up a fuss over John‘s small cache of spare weapons in the library?)
On a gloomy overcast day the family decided to have a picnic. As the blankets were spread over a few graves in the cemetery, John hoped nervously that they weren’t expecting some other relatives to join them.
John found Gomez and Harold in the drawing room, ensconced in matching wingback chairs and reading sections from the paper. From time to time Gomez would exclaim loudly over something he read, while Harold would mutter “Hmmmm.” John cleared his throat to get their attention. Gomez looked up and broke into a huge smile, gesticulating with his cigar as he said “morning John”. Finch put down his paper and looked John over intently from head to toe, assessing his level of fitness. As John surveyed the two of them in their well-made suits, much snappier than John’s own rather monochromatic wardrobe, he figured this was where Finch got his fashion sense.
Grandmamma snorted over John’s questions about spells. “For wealth you’d do better to seek an alchemist instead of a witch. As for love potions, most are false. It is a difficult potion to master. But highly prized, as love forms the simplest yet strongest binding magic.”
It was odd that John found himself able to sleep more deeply in Finch’s family home with all its odd goings on than he had in many of his own bolt holes. But he was awakened one night by a crash of thunder. His gloomy room was briefly lit by a flash of lighting, followed by more thunder and lightning from a fierce storm. Visions of Frankenstein dancing in his head, John hoped Finch was safely tucked in bed and that he and his family weren’t up to something.
As a parting gift Gomez offered John a gleaming antique dagger. Finch intercepted the implement before John could accept it and began to wipe it on his handkerchief. “John finds it more challenging to avoid the use of poison.” Finch explained. “Ah, a sportsman!”
AUTHOR: whomii2
RATING: G
WORD COUNT: 987
SUMMARY: Addams Family crossover #2. Reese recuperates with Finch's adoptive family (sequel to Homeward Bound)
John wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he became aware of his surroundings. He was in a sparsely furnished room with a rather muted and monochromatic color scheme. He relaxed when he saw evidence of Finch’s presence in the Jacket draped over the chair next to the bed and the book placed on the seat. Finch had shown himself capable in a similar situation before, so John could assume for the moment that wherever they were they were safe. His suppositions were proved correct when Finch entered the room carrying a steaming mug. He carefully hobbled over to place the mug on the bedside table. He helped John into a sitting position and passed him the mug. It had a bitter taste (some sort of herbal tea?). But the aches and pains John had become aware of started to fade quickly.
Feeling better and more alert, John began to take a closer look at his surroundings. He eyed the trophy on the wall and wondered if he was seeing things - a swordfish swallowing a leg? Certainly different from the quite elegance he had begun to associate with Finch. But it probably explained the lamp, after all most legs come in pairs. What sort of fun house had Finch brought them to?
Following Finch’s explanation as to their whereabouts, John wondered at the suspicious absence of Finch‘s adopted family. He grumbled to Finch that he would be on his best behavior and promised not to embarrass Harold or scare Harold’s family. Finch muttered “that’s not what I am worried about”
John sat bolt upright when he heard the first explosion. He started to struggle out of bed while rummaging through the nightstand for his gun. “John, John, calm down, its alright. They’re just playing golf.” “With live grenades?” “You would have to admit it makes the sport much more exciting” “John thought that yes, the ratings on the PGA tour would definitely go up if they introduced exploding ammo. Best not to mention that innovation.
John stared at Finch defiantly. He’d been lying around too long. He was ready to be up and about even if Finch disagreed. Unfortunately for John, Finch had called in reinforcements. Looking up up up at Lurch looming behind Harold in the hallway, John turned around and stumbled back to his bed before he suffered the indignity of being scooped up and carried. He didn’t want to tempt Finch into applying the restraints he had seen affixed to the bed (Harold had already shown he was willing and able for much less cause)
Finch had called in reinforcements again. John flushed scarlet, trying to disappear into the mattress as Morticia and Grandmamma made a rather intense examination of his various wounds and injuries. John resolved not to protest Finch’s mother-henning in the future, as the man clearly wasn’t above playing dirty.
John gave up on Fester as a lost cause. He was too much of a traditionalist and too attached to his sticks of dynamite, even though C4 was much more portable and could be more readily shaped for different size explosions. Though John was secretly impressed with the precision Fester could get with a tossed stick of dynamite. It was lucky Fester seemed to have a magic way with the old-fashioned explosive, considering how careless he was in handling it (an Addam’s family trait--total blasé about dangerous things)
At dinner John watched Finch closely, making sure to stick to only the foodstuffs he was eating. Any suspicious portions he fed to the plant, which ate it up rather literally (John had to watch his fingers).
Finch found John staring into a room filled with various instruments of torture. After a moment of silence John cleared his throat and asked “So, is Gomez or Fester a collector?” “Oh no. This is the children’s playroom.”
(John pouted silently. And Finch kicked up a fuss over John‘s small cache of spare weapons in the library?)
On a gloomy overcast day the family decided to have a picnic. As the blankets were spread over a few graves in the cemetery, John hoped nervously that they weren’t expecting some other relatives to join them.
John found Gomez and Harold in the drawing room, ensconced in matching wingback chairs and reading sections from the paper. From time to time Gomez would exclaim loudly over something he read, while Harold would mutter “Hmmmm.” John cleared his throat to get their attention. Gomez looked up and broke into a huge smile, gesticulating with his cigar as he said “morning John”. Finch put down his paper and looked John over intently from head to toe, assessing his level of fitness. As John surveyed the two of them in their well-made suits, much snappier than John’s own rather monochromatic wardrobe, he figured this was where Finch got his fashion sense.
Grandmamma snorted over John’s questions about spells. “For wealth you’d do better to seek an alchemist instead of a witch. As for love potions, most are false. It is a difficult potion to master. But highly prized, as love forms the simplest yet strongest binding magic.”
It was odd that John found himself able to sleep more deeply in Finch’s family home with all its odd goings on than he had in many of his own bolt holes. But he was awakened one night by a crash of thunder. His gloomy room was briefly lit by a flash of lighting, followed by more thunder and lightning from a fierce storm. Visions of Frankenstein dancing in his head, John hoped Finch was safely tucked in bed and that he and his family weren’t up to something.
As a parting gift Gomez offered John a gleaming antique dagger. Finch intercepted the implement before John could accept it and began to wipe it on his handkerchief. “John finds it more challenging to avoid the use of poison.” Finch explained. “Ah, a sportsman!”