*SPOILERS FOR S9, SOME SPECULATIVE SPOILERS FOR S10*
Disclaimer: I tried to do something clever and write "I do not own Spooks" in Morse code, but it kept getting rid of two of the dashes in 'o' so I gave in. The message remains the same: it's not mine. Also, the fic title quite obviously comes from the ABBA song.
Characters / Pairings: Harry, Ruth, Tariq, Beth, Dimitri, Alec; Ruth/Harry, slight Dimitri/Beth
Summary: Section D, Six's anniversary dinner dance, and one woman hiding the biggest secret of her life - what could possibly happen...? Fluffy H/R twaddle.
My thanks go to Griddle Pop and Rambling Scribe for their help on the DG's name, and especially to Lady Devonshire for being such a mine of useful information on all things ball-related =D
Chapter 1
"It is my greatest regret to tell you all to cancel any plans you have on Saturday evening. You all now have a prior engagement."
Harry's announcement as he took his seat was met by an array of bemused faces. Among all the dropped-jaws and blank stares around the table, one voice spoke up.
"It's hardly a prior engagement, Harry, if you neglect to tell us before we make other plans."
Harry shifted to look at her as she pulled back the adjacent chair and sat down the space that had been left.
"It would seem that after the past months of my telling the DG of Six that the best way to celebrate our sister service's centenary was not by blowing the increased budget on an extravagant evening for half of Whitehall, he has has finally realised I was right."
"Why are we still going then?" asked Tariq.
"Something about 'inter-agency cooperation' or 'competition' – I can't remember which."
"Basically," offered Ruth, leaning forward, "the DG just doesn't want to admit he was mistaken." She turned a piece of paper absently in her hands, fidgeting as usual. Harry tore his gaze back up to her eyes in time to meet them. Neither of them was particularly fond of Sir Richard Dolby or his counterpart over the river, but after their investigations into Harry's panel of interrogators at the inquiry had revealed the Nightingale connections of several, the Director Generals of Five and Six had been rather efficient in dealing with them and rubber-stamping Harry back onto the Grid, so they had little choice but to approve of the two bureaucrats.
Pretending to ignore the hopeless pair gazing at one-another, Dimitri made a show of shuffling some files on the table. Ruth ducked her head, blushing. The piece of paper was becoming more and more crumpled by the second.
"Attendance is compulsory," Harry continued smoothly, addressing the whole team once more, "so you will all be there." He held up his hand to stop Beth objecting. "I'm sorry Miss Bailey. No excuses."
Once he had dismissed them he turned back to Ruth who, like always, had remained behind. A few moments passed as they continued their usual cat-and-mouse routine of avoiding eye-contact. "I'm sorry, Ruth," he murmured finally, meeting her soft gaze. He had been so looking forward to their-
But never mind. There would always be another time.
"It's alright, Harry," Ruth replied. "I'll just have to settle for this dinner with the bigwigs instead."
"Dance," he corrected absently, collecting up the various files from the table.
"Sorry?" She frowned, thinking she'd misheard.
"It's a dance, Ruth. With dinner. Didn't I mention that?"
No reply. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her again.
She looked stunned.
No, it was more than that. She looked terrified...
Is this an absolutely absurd concept we'll never ever see on Spooks?
Absolutely.
Is this pure, unadulterated fluffy ridiculous nonsense, the likes of which we have never seen – and will never see – on the show?
Pretty much.
Will this contain much wish fulfilment re Ruth wearing a beautiful dress?
Possibly. ;)
And all born out of a hint from the writers about . ...- . -. .. -. -. / .- . .- .-. (and hopefully the Morse code worked there!)
This is for everyone whose fic(s) I have read/favourited/alerted lately without reviewing. I'll say 'exams' and hope you understand =)