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"Time to go, Harold," John said as he put hands on Harold's shoulder and nearly pushed him out the door. They made it out of the lecture hall just as the police showed up, and were out on the street before many more units could swarm on the location. Harold knew they were walking fast, but John kept a hand at his side, making sure he was comfortable enough to keep up.
That was when the S.W.A.T. van showed up, several of whom had spotted them both from time to time amidst previous cases. Then there were the two dozen additional officers that arrived via transport; soon they started to descend upon them as well. "Oh boy," John said as he moved them closer to the wall, keeping his face down as officers passed. "Got any ideas?"
Harold stopped and grabbed John's lapel. "You're not gonna like it," he said. Before Reese could ask exactly what he meant, Harold reached up and cupped the back of John's head, then pulled him down into a kiss.
It didn't seem to shock John as much as Harold thought it would, because, in seconds, John had canted his hips, the weight of his body pressing Harold against the wall as John's tongue licked at Harold's lips. Harold swallowed John's moan as John's tongue gained entrance, and the two stood there, oblivious to the world.
"Hey," a voice came some undetermined time later. "If you two lovebirds would find a room, we've got a scene to secure."
Harold and John looked up at the same time. "What? Oh. Oh yes. We're sorry, detective," Harold said.
John reached out and took Harold's hand. "I'm not," he said, then winked at the detective before he pulled Harold away from the wall.
They walked a few hundred feet and pointedly did not flinch when there was a hail of gunfire from somewhere behind them. Instead, John picked up the pace.
When they were several blocks from the scene, John finally let up and slowed his pace which allowed Harold to catch his breath. They stood under a streetlamp, Harold noticing that John had his back turned to the only traffic camera in the area. "So what do we do now?" John asked. "We can't go back to the library. At least not until we know that the police got all four of the suspects." He looked at Harold, then finally let go of his hand as an elderly couple walked by. "Got any ideas?"
The kiss had indeed given Harold an idea. He took out a cell phone and brought up a specially coded program. It took him a couple of minutes, in which time he batted away John's hand as it tried to grab the phone. Twice. "There," he finally said. "We have a hideaway for as long as we need it."
"Great," John said. "How do we get there?"
"Just wait," Harold said, then looked at his watch.
All was quiet for a few minutes. Then a limousine pulled up, and a smartly dressed woman walked out and approached them. "Mister Kingslet?" she asked.
John responded, "Yes?"
"I'm here to escort you to the hotel."
~*~*~
Fifteen minutes later the chauffeur pulled up to the Four Seasons hotel, where a team of people surrounded the car, each offering to help John and Harold. "You have no bags, sir?" one of the young valets asked.
A severe-looking woman in a sharp business suit immediately turned to the valet. Though she didn't say a word, the valet went pale, and he walked back into the hotel, his head hung low. Harold hoped she hadn't just fired him, but these days you never knew. He would have to look into it, and if he'd been fired, he knew that the young man would fit into one of his companies.
"Mister Kingslet," she said as she approached. She didn't hold out a hand until Harold did and then shook both his and John's hands. "The penthouse has been set up as requested." She gestured for the grand entrance. "If you would follow me?"
John absolutely did not smirk when John leaned over and mouthed 'Penthouse?' at him.
"We are so happy that you've chosen to spend your honeymoon with us," the manager added as she swooped them into the elevator. They ascended in silence until, a few floors to go, she added, "There will be a personal butler available to you, though I know you may want your privacy."
"Oh yes, please," John said as he reached out and took Harold's hand. "At least the first couple of nights. If you don't mind."
The elevator reached the penthouse, and the doors swung open. "As you wish," she said. She gestured for them to get out, which Harold did without as much as a glance around. But John turned, taking it all in.
"Baby, it's beautiful. But you shouldn't have." He pecked Harold on the cheek, then turned to the manager. "Thank you," he said as he slipped a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and gave it to her. He then put an arm around Harold and gave her a look, which was her cue to leave.
"If you need anything, I've left my cell phone number here," she said as she pointed to a single card on the sideboard near the elevator. "Have a good night," she said, then stepped into the elevator and out of their lives.
A few seconds of silence passed until John finally broke the silence. "Well now," he said as he grabbed a bottle of red wine that was already opened, two empty glasses nearby. "So was this an old-fashioned wedding, or did I get to keep my name?"
"Hyphenated, actually," Harold said as he took a glass, then set it down. "John Cruz-Kingslet. We're hoping to adopt."
John smirked. "Good to know," he said. "But tell me this, dear husband. If we're here for several days, and didn't bring luggage, what am I to wear?" He took a sip, then came to stand far too close to Harold and asked, "Or do we plan on putting on clothes at all?"
Harold smirked as he said, "This way, Mister Reese," and walked John to the palatial bedroom. He walked through the room and then into the massive closet where he gestured to the clothes along one side of the wall. "I assume these will be to your liking?" he asked.
John let his fingers drag across several of the suits and shirts that were neatly hung. "You've thought of everything," he said. "Well, almost everything," he said with a smirk.
Harold crossed to a dresser that stood on a mirrored wall and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a couple of pair of socks, then put them back. Then he showed the undershirts. And finally, he pulled out several pairs of boxers.
John took a pair into his hands. "My favorite brand, too," he said as he examined the boxers. "It's like maybe you've been watching me."
Within half a heartbeat, Harold's face went flush. He knew he was blushing as deep as the red rose petals that were no doubt spread across their impromptu honeymoon bed. "I can assure you that I've always given you the utmost privacy," he promised. "I would never watch you without your permission, John. I hope you know that."
As he took off his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt, John said, "Never?"
Harold's throat went dry as he got a peek of the sculpted flesh that was usually hidden under John's clothes. "N- No. Never," he finally said.
John's fingers finished unbuttoning the shirt, and he untucked it, then dropped it to the floor. He then let his fingers go to his belt, which joined his shirt on the floor, and his fingers finally settled on his pants. As he undid the button and started slowly unzipping them, John asked, "Would you like to?"