A/N: Okay, so it's half term and I sat down this morning determined to write some H/R and this is what came of it. It was written in less than 6 hours, so I hope it's okay. I'd say it's set after 4x09 ignoring the events of 4x10, as I have kept Ruth's step-brother alive.
Thanks to HR always live on for the help!
Chapter 1
Ruth sat at her station staring blankly at her computer screen. It was her birthday today and not one of her colleagues had said a word. In fact no-one had. Oh, she knew her mother would call later. She never forgot. Harry had remembered once and bought her a Red Shoes CD and a book about cats. She had wondered if there had been a deeper meaning to his gift, but nothing had come of it though, save for the briefest touch of their hands during a clandestine meeting on the top deck of a late night bus. So today seemed destined to pass by in obscurity; no notable or outstanding events. The same as every year since she had turned eighteen really.
She didn't even have any plans for tonight, though in hindsight that was probably a good job since it was already nearing seven. She was going to her mother's tomorrow. Her stepbrother, Peter would be there, an extraordinary event in and of itself. Her mother was cooking dinner and throwing a little birthday celebration with the family. Her mother had asked if she would be bringing anyone, but she had replied with the same answer she used every time her mother asked such a question. No, there was no man in her life, not in that way at least. She always added to herself (for she would never speak of such things with her mother) that the one man she did want to be in her life that way, well that was a whole lot of complicated.
She sighed deeply and looked over towards the office of the man in question. He had been late this morning, called to a middle of the night meeting at the Home Office. And then he had disappeared without a word in the middle of the afternoon. Unsurprisingly, he looked dog-tired, but she knew he had no plans to go home and rest. He was working through a pile of reports that had backed up during the last crisis. His sleeves were rolled up, jacket hanging on the back of his chair and his reading glasses were perched on his nose. They were a new addition; he'd grumbled ever so slightly about having them; made some comment about losing one's faculties and said it was the beginning of the end. She loved those glasses though. She thought they made him look intelligent, relaxed, and sexy.
Yes, Harry was sexy, with or without the glasses. She'd known that from day one. It had taken about a year and a half for her to fall in love with him and another year before she admitted it to herself. The last few months had been spent deciding whether or not she should do anything about it. No other man was going to take his place in her heart. She knew that now. Harry was under her skin and he was there to stay.
She sometimes suspected he had feelings for her, but she couldn't be sure. They had grown closer and he had been more affectionate, more touchy lately. He would often place his hand on the small of her back as they walked together, guiding her and her would lean in closer when talking to her. It was as if her were testing her boundaries. She had found herself unable to muster any objections to his behaviour. She admitted that she wanted his affection, his attention. She wanted him to touch her. Even her sexual fantasies were rearing their ugly head in the middle of the day sometimes now. No longer were they kept confined to the bedroom and the small hours of the night. God, she wished she had the courage to tell him what she wanted, how she felt, but she hadn't found it yet. A second heavy sigh was punctuated by his voice.
"Is everything alright, Ruth?"
She started. She'd been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed him make his way out of his office and approach her desk.
"Y-yes Harry. Of course. Why wouldn't it be?"
"You've been staring into space for the last few minutes and that's not like you."
"I'm sorry; I suppose I'm just tired," she lied.
"Why don't you go home? This report can wait until after the weekend. Go on; get off home. It is your birthday after all."
"Y-you remembered?
"You thought I'd forgotten?"
She blushed. "I thought you may have done; you didn't say anything."
"No, but I am doing now. Happy Birthday. Do you have any plans?"
"I'm driving down to my mother's tomorrow for the weekend. She's cooking tomorrow night; a sort of family party," she told him.
"Sounds nice."
"I'm sure it will be; it's been a while since we've all been together," Ruth said, stifling a yawn. "Oh, sorry!"
Harry chuckled. "It's quite alright. Go on. Go home and have a nice evening."
With that he went back to his office and carried on signing off on reports. No card, no present, no hug. Okay well, the last one might have been asking for a bit too much but after last year, Ruth couldn't help but be disappointed that he hadn't chosen to mark her birthday in a more concrete way. Saddened, she shut down her computer and got ready to leave.
From his office, Harry watched her gather her coat and bag, bid goodnight to the rest of the team and exit through the pods. He began to feel nervous about what would happen when she got home and discovered the gift he'd gotten her. He wondered if it was too much and how she would react to it. He'd nipped out this afternoon and been to her apartment to leave his gift. He'd spent weeks planning it, deciding what to get and how to give it to her. Part of it was what the gift was, but the important thing was what the gift meant and how she would take it. She certainly wouldn't expect what he had left for her.
He was taking a big chance, he knew. If this went wrong he could find himself with a sexual harassment suit. He'd agonised over it, but he couldn't keep his feelings to himself any longer. Even if she didn't return them, it was getting too tense avoiding the subject. They had grown closer recently, since the deaths of Danny and Fiona. They had often found themselves the last two people on the Grid and where, in the past they would have continued to work on alone, they now gravitated toward each other. It had started one night, not long after Fiona's death. She had appeared at his door with two cups of coffee and a stack of files under her arm. Without uttering a word, she had placed a cup of coffee on either side of his desk, put her files down and pulled up a chair. He had raised an eyebrow, but she had said nothing. When she had finished her work, she'd gathered the now empty cups and left just as quietly as she had arrived. He'd followed her to the kitchen where she was rinsing the cups. He'd helped to dry.
"You looked like you needed the company," she had explained with a sad smile. "I know I did."
From then on, they regularly found themselves ensconced in Harry's office once the grid was empty. Sometimes they shared tea, sometimes whiskey, sometimes they worked, sometimes they didn't; sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't. How they spent their time together didn't matter much to Harry, as long as they were together. This shift in their relationship had given him the impetus to take this next step. It was definitely time. He was struggling to keep a lid on his feelings for her. She had to be told before he lost all control of himself ended up pushing her down on his desk, and taking her there and then, as he had done in many of his fantasies. He was more than ready to accept the consequences of his confession, whatever they may be, because he couldn't live like this anymore.
