Spooks slash

Ruth/Ros – an odd combination I know, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I found this just now, it's very old but let's try it out. Probably written around about just before Ruth left, although I can't be sure. Enjoy.

Ruth blinked at the screen a few times, trying to focus on the words that danced about like little black dragonflies. It was early – too early – and she was sitting at her desk in the office. She was alone. It was six in the morning.

She got up, made her way to the water cooler, not taking two steps before forgetting completely about the report she had been reading. She couldn't stop thinking about him. Harry.

After all this time, and now it wasn't like she'd dreamt. Not at all like it. In her mind it had been perfect, and this – this whatever it was – was a let down.

She hadn't spoken to him any more than absolutely necessary in days, and he had taken to sitting in his edgy red office, staring into the middle distance, broodingly. The only way she'd been able to get any work done lately was by coming in early and staying late – and even that wasn't working this particular morning.

"Ruth?"

"Jesus!" She jumped, dropping the plastic cup and spilling cold water down her front.

"No, just me" Ros gave a weak smile.

"Oh." Ruth looked pointedly down at her knees, which were wet. And these were her nice trousers. The ones with the long crotch and the hidden front zip. The charcoal ones. She had worn them to dinner with Harry.

Shit.

"Sorry I startled you." Ros' voice was thin, broken, and it was only now that Ruth realised that the blonde had been crying.

"Are you alright?" She asked, not quite sure of the etiquette required when talking to someone you didn't really know, like or trust all that much.

"Smashing." Ros' voice was flat.

"Good, great." Ruth turned away, stopped as Ros grabbed her arm.

"Please, Ruth," the voice was close to breaking point now, fresh tears close to falling. Ros swallowed; breathed deeply. "I really need to talk and I- I don't want to talk to Adam or Harry. And there's no one else, no one outside..."

She meant outside Box, outside The Firm. Ruth knew the feeling.

"Zaf?" Offered Ruth. "Jo? A therapist?"

Ros laughed bitterly. They both knew that nothing would make sense to an outside therapist – and there was such stigma attached to visiting the in-house counsellors. "I can't really wait until they get in, and besides, it wouldn't be right. I was hoping you might be in early – knew, really – that you would be. Spilling water down yourself and thinking about Harry."

Ruth snapped around, her eyes blazing.

"You have no right! No right Ros, to-"

"To what? Show an awareness of your private affairs? You have no privacy Ruth, no private affairs, no private life!" Her voice was choking up, but her eyes were defiant, staring straight into Ruth's. "You work for MI5, Ruth. And I'm scared that... that's what's going to happen to me."

Ruth knew what it all meant. All of it. She knew it was all true. That just made it worse. She turned back towards Ros, slowly, and was about to say something – anything – when she was all at once in the middle of a kiss. Ros, pressed onto her, into her, hands behind Ruth's head holding it, keeping the kiss locked. Ruth struggled, in vain, finally breaking away, her head reeling, her mouth still open in shock.

Ros looked her right in the eyes. Daring. Defiant.

Ruth lashed out, hard, with her hand, slapping Ros fully on the cheek. Ros cried out, half in pain half in the ecstasy of the sudden contrast between pleasure and pain. It was the most of anything she had felt in a long time.

"Do it again," breathed Ros, her voice deliberately gasping. The pain was an escape, the kiss a wanton need. Both together was one hell of an aphrodisiac. "Do it again" she repeated – half begging, half demanding.

Ruth did. Ros' cheek shone pink. Ruth's hand was shaking, she drew it to her chest and stepped backwards. She had just slapped Ros. Twice. And kissed her – rather – been kissed by her. Once. And she wanted it to happen again.

Ros stepped forward, snaking one arm around Ruth's waist, bringing the other one up to Ruth's face. Ruth flinched, but said nothing, meekly allowing Ros to lean in, slowly.

They kissed, more softly than before but with a growing hunger. The pace quickened, Ros slinking her hand down the side of Ruth's body, bringing it under Ruth's crotch and tightening her hold of Ruth. Then, her hand still between Ruth's legs, Ros pushed her, gently and firmly, up and back onto the conveniently clear desk just behind her, both hands now spreading Ruth's legs apart.

"Now why'd you have to wear trousers today, Ruthie?" Murmured Ros into Ruth's neck, as she caressed the thighs in front of her.

A longing moan escaped from Ruth's wet mouth, she couldn't help it. Nor could she help the little waves of pleasure swathing up through her spine.

Before she could stop herself, before she wanted to, she slipped her own hand down, and undid the long, hidden zip of her nice charcoal trousers.

"Genius" remarked Ros, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Sarcasm that had never sounded so sexy.

Up until now, Ruth had been fairly upright on the desk, arching her back in response to Ros' touch. Now, she allowed Ros to push her gently backwards, she was looking at the ceiling, gasping, moaning.

She could feel Ros' tongue.

"Harry!"

Ruth snapped her eyes open. She looked down her own body, watched Ros' head slowly rise a little from between her legs. An eternity, as the one word bounced around the still, empty office, before Ruth realised that the word had come from her own mouth.

Ros rose, sharply, suddenly.

"I'm sorry, Ros-" Started Ruth. Ros' eyebrows flickered a fraction.

"Fuck you Ruth." She said. "Fuck you." And walked out the office.