Random Things With: Michael Emerson

Get comfortable/Person of Intrest (Finch x yn)

Mini imagine #1 - SirRobObbsessed
I got this original idea from SirRobObsessed, I do not own the original idea. I wanted to write a described version of this writers original idea.  Please contact me if you want this taken down Rob, hope you like it!

⚠️Disclaimer: I have not watched all of P.O.I. so I apologize if it's not plot-correct.

Brussel sprouts and peace out's,
-Awdil

"Yes John, he was just seen on a side street about two blocks west of you. Just walked into Doc's bar, get there quickly. I'll be finding out how our mystery man grew up."
Harold hangs up the line with Reese and goes back to surfing the internet for any technological trace of their new number.

You walk into the library, having just picked up donuts and tea for you, Finch, Shaw, and Reese when they got back.
"Morning Harold." You say nearing his desk.

He turns from his screens, "Good morning Y/N. How did you sleep?"

Setting the tea and donuts down, you lean back on his desk- facing him. "Oh, the usual. Alright getting to sleep, but couldn't stay asleep for long."

"You should try melatonin, like I've said before." He says in return, a told you so look on his face.

Yes, he's told you this before but you hadn't taken his advice. Finch turns back to the monitors, quickly clicking at the mouse and keyboard.

"Oh I know, I just don't want to use medicine because if it works, I'll be able to sleep easily, and that's good of course. But then if I don't have them, I won't be able to sleep at all."

"That's a good counter-argument." He looks at you not taking his hands off the set-up. "Unfortunately I don't have a solution for that. Now would you look at this?" Back to the 0101 world.

"What?" You ask turning to the monitors, squatting down so you're on Finch's level.
"He barely has any digital footprint. No social media, no accounts of any kind, no bank records, almost like that girl a few months back."

"The one with the nose ring?" You ask.
"Yes, her. Almost got me killed." He mutters under his breath.

"Well thankfully we have John to protect you."
"Hm, yes."

He leans back in his seat, confounded by his inability to find this mystery man's early life.
"You work too much." You say looking up at him, still squatting on the ground.

"You know my job is necessary and I'm the only one that can do it. Even know about it."
"Yes, yes I know."

"What do you do to de-stress?" You say standing up.
"What?" Finch asks.
"What do you do to calm down? Relax from all this?" Motioning to his multiple computer screens.
"Usually just keep working until I'm tired again."
"That's not a good solution, Harold."

You say smiling, "You know what? I'm going to teach you to relax. Doesn't look like you've done it a day in your life."

Walking around to the back of his chair, you pull him out from the desk and push it over to the window.
For people watching, it calmed you down so you assumed it would help him too.

"Y/N! I have to work right know, I need to find this man- or woman." He says looking up at you.
"Well not this very second! Reese isn't on the line, you have your computer searching for any ties or leads. If I was not here, you would be sitting at your desk, and waiting for something to
happen." You say, walking away back to his desk to get the green tea you had picked up for him.

"Well-"
"Don't want to hear it."

He leans back, defeated. You were right. He hadn't really relaxed in a while, having to pretend you're dead all the time isn't a part-time job.

You walk back over and hand him the green tea. "How's that?"
"Wonderful." Finch says. He doesn't look that relaxed, he's sitting with the best posture you've ever seen. His suit restricting any comfortable positions.

Of course to at was partly because of the b0mbing, but he could still bend his back to some degree.

"What about your suit?" Shifting your weight to one leg and crossing your arms.
"Pardon?"
"Your suit, isn't in a bit uncomfortable?"
"No it's fine, I'm very comfortable."
"You don't look like it."

"Well I guess you'll just have to take my word for it." Not knowing how this is supposed to make him relaxed with you acting as his personal tailor.
"No, I'm afraid I won't. I'll fix it." You say, walking towards him. He looked so restricted, you hadn't liked suits very much. Not for every day life anyways.

Herold's arms rested on the handles of the chair, watching you coming towards him. "What are you doing? It doesn't need fixing-"

"Making you relax." You get close enough to loosen his tie, leaving it hanging around his neck. Your face in close proximity to his. You keep your eyes fixed on his tie and vest, and he kept his eyes on yours.

You moved to unbutton his vest so he could bend his back better than a 90 degree angle that it was currently in. You could hear his breath, stoping in his throat. "You alright Harold?" You ask, looking up at him. Your faces, only inches apart.

"I- yes. Yes I am." He says, blushing in just the slightest. Barley noticeable. He breaks eye contact and looks to his right, taking a breather.

"You're alright." You respond, a little confused, but you continue to unbutton his vest nonetheless.

He looks back at you, your fingers carefully removing the buttons from their socket. Though he isn't focused on his vest being undone, he's focused on you.

"There." You say, standing back up. His tie was undone and so was his vest. "Comfortable now?" You ask with a smile.
"Oh, yes very." Harold returns your smile. "Thank you Y/N."
"Anytime." You say walking away to grab a donut for yourself. "Let me know if you want to relax more often, you might forget how to do this with all your number work."

"Will do." Harold responds, grinning in spite of himself.
"Will most definitely."

"What was that?" You ask, returning with your donut.
"Oh nothing." Finch smiles up at you.
"Alright." Returning his smile.

You turn to the wall of windows looking down at the busy street of people.

"I'm assuming you like people watching."
"It's very nice, what I do for a hobby actually." Harold responds.
"Oh, outside the baseball one?" You say teasingly, giving him a sly grin.
He laughs.

His laugh was nice, even if it only made an appearance every once in a while. You wished it came out from the shadows more, like his smile. Finch was a man of small features, not gestures. His gestures, actions, had to have been the nicest in all of New York. According to you anyway.

Turning back to the bustling street of people, you realize how minuscule just the two of you are in New York, the world.

All of these people have impacted someone, they all have family, biological ones at least. Some may not even know who those are. Yet they have all loved someone, hated someone.

Hate. That's what fueled too many people in this world. Hate is also what saves people. How? It makes others aware of danger possibly before an incident. How does one prevent an incident?

Well, if their numbers up, the prevention will find them.