Author's Note: I have decided to start this not as a chaptered story but as a place to put the random drabbles that sometimes pop into my head. As a general rule they probably won't be connected but will just be snapshots.
It had been a long meeting. A very long meeting and Harry had been bursting for a pee for the best part of forty minutes and after finally escaping, Harry knew he wouldn't be able to make it back to his office toilet and dashed into the nearest gents and unzipped at the nearest urinal. As he was finally able to relieve his bladder Harry let out a great sigh of relief.
Behind him a toilet flushed and a figure emerged.
Harry looked down for a moment and in the corner of his eye caught the skirt and leather boots that walked by. He jumped so hard he nearly peed all over his shoes. "Jesus Christ, Ruth!"
Ruth turned around at just the wrong moment and caught an eyeful that she was sure was going to be seared into the back of her eyes for a long time and she immediately turned away to wash her hands, apologies falling out of her mouth.
"Oh God! Sorry, Harry. I am so sorry. They've been working on the plumbing in the ladies loos all morning so we've been sneaking in here. Sorry."
"Hasn't anyone heard of the disabled toilet?" Harry asked irrititably as he shook of the drips and zipped up.
"Its full of cleaning supplies," Ruth responded.
"Of course it is," Harry grumbled, falling in beside her at the sinks to wash his hands.
Ruth pulled out some paper towels and dried her hands, avoiding his gaze, blushing a deep scarlet colour. "I didn't see anything."
Standing as he was at the adjacent sink, Harry was able to lean over and whisper in her ear a single word that dripped from his lips, "Liar."
Ruth was too stunned for words, but when she dared to glance up their eyes met in the mirror and there was a strange sort of sparkle in Harry's eyes that was one third warmth, one third teasing and one third seduction and then he brushed straight past her and out the door. Ruth stood there for another five minutes, fretting over the fact that it would look like they'd just gone for a shag in the gents, before finally and tentatively poking her head out the door and scurrying back to her desk.