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This was the first time they had gotten properly drunk together. Even when Reese had bought Finch that boilermaker, and combining that with Finch's pain medication made him a bit tipsy, Reese hadn't drank anything alcoholic, preferring to keep himself as the designated driver of sorts.
But they had saved the world, and the doctor had finally cleared Reese to drink again after making sure the blood-thinning properties wouldn't hurt the healing process, so they went out together as good friends and got drunk. Fusco was hanging around at the other end of the bar as a safety measure--who he was safeguarding it wasn't quite clear, but nobody was gonna walk out of this bar with a black eye if it was up to him, not tonight.
"Y'know what, Harold?" Reese started.
"We're on a first name basis now?" Finch's speech was slow and deliberate, him putting in all the effort to not slur from the alcohol.
"You called me John years ago, and I called you Harold years ago, and we weren't even friends yet. I think we get to call each other by our first names more now."
"Fair point. What is it that I know?"
A pause. "Huh?"
"You said, 'You know what, Harold?' And then I distracted you. What were you asking me?"
"Oh, right." Another pause. "Well, you've seen me interested in people over the last five years. Zoe, Iris...Joss. Besides Grace, I've never seen you interested in anybody. What's up with that?"
"Are you asking me who I have a crush on, John?"
"Well, when you put it like that…"
"It's complicated." Reese was not expecting Finch to actually talk about it, so he straightened up as much as he could and listened. "I had...crushes on people when I was younger. I had people I wanted to date, people I wanted to bed." Finch glanced around the bar, squinted at Reese, and lowered his voice. "To be honest, they were...they were all men. But I haven't felt that way about a person seriously for a long time."
Reese stared, astonished. "You're gay? You're part of the...LGBT community too?"
"I used to be, I suppose. I don't know what I am anymore. I haven't let myself feel anything like that for another man for years."
"What about Grace?"
"You know, I'm not sure. I'm still trying to figure out if I was attracted to her or if we were pushed together by the Machine and by Nathan and just formed a very close friendship that I mistook for something more."
Silence reigned for a few minutes, both of them thinking.
Finch spoke up first this time. "What do you mean, too? Are you part of it too ?"
Reese froze with his drink half to his mouth, then took a gulp for courage. "I talked to Zoe about it years ago. I think I'm--" he paused, alcohol-addled brain trying to remember the term they discussed so long ago. "Asexual? And something-romantic."
"So everybody you were interested in…"
"I just wanted to date them. To be with them. Not have sex with them, unless they would really want it."
Finch nodded, winced a little, and stopped.
Silence again.
"Have you ever been interested in men?" He asked.
Reese shifted in his chair, a little uncomfortable. "In the past, yeah, but my uncle put me through conversion therapy, so... less now."
Now it was awkward silence. Finch was curious but didn't want to ask, afraid of saying the wrong thing. The emotional drunk part of Reese wanted to talk about it, but he knew he'd regret it if he did.
Fusco, who had been listening off and on, knew that without his intervention things were just going to get worse. So, he joined them on their side of the bar.
"What d'ya say we get outta here, huh? I've still got class in the morning."
They both took the cue with a grateful nod at him, Reese downed his glass in one last gulp, and both got up slowly, not risking being unsteady from, y'know, the alcohol.
As the cabs pulled up, Finch caught Reese's shirt.
"I may not have the same experience as you, John, but if you want to talk, I can be a listening ear."
Reese looked at Finch, hesitated, then gave a grateful smile and a nod.
"Noted.”