This is probably a one shot to make up for the angst of my last fic - does what it says on the tin!
"Harry."
"Yes Ruth," he turned back from the door.
'You've… er, you've ….."
She tailed off and instead stepped towards him, her hand winding up over his shoulder and around his neck. His eyes were fixed upon her, blazing down. Her face moved closer, so close and she could feel his eyes but she refused to look at them. She was on tiptoes reaching around him. His heart was hammering as he struggled to keep control not only of his breathing but also his hands.
Suddenly her arm had left him and was hovering between them, finger and thumb proffering something.
"Fluff," she announced.
"Oh," he said quietly, trying to mask the disappointment.
"On your collar."
"Of course."
Neither moved. He smiled.
"Must be the stuffing coming out."
"Well, there's plenty to spare," she said glancing at his stomach.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Sorry," she said, looking away.
"Don't be. You're right. Not enough exercise."
"And too much whiskey."
"A man's got to have one vice, Ruth."
She opened her mouth but fortunately he stopped her.
"Thank you, you don't need to remind me how many I really have."
She smiled.
A moment passed before they both seemed to realise that they were still standing so close. She looked up at him suddenly aware of the height difference when she wore her flat shoes.
"You're quite tall," she said suddenly.
He smiled and shook his head, eyes blazing down on her again.
"I think it's that you're quite short."
Her eyebrows raised in mock indignation.
"But perfectly formed," he said hurridly, trying to dig himself out of the situation but managing only to dig the hole a little deeper.
They both teetered at the edge of mortification until he turned away.
"Bye, Ruth."
The next day Harry walked onto the grid heading straight for his office.
Ruth looked up and followed him.
"Harry, what do you keep doing?"
"Good morning to you too, Ruth."
He was leant against his desk reading through a list of calls.
"I think you're right, I think your seams are coming undone."
He looked up at her.
"Have you not got a mirror, Harry?"
"A mirror? Trust me the last thing I need to see in the morning is myself."
"Well, you shouldn't be allowed out."
"Ruth. Cut to the chase, would you?"
"You're covered in….stuff… again."
'Oh," he said and looked down at himself. Finding nothing he stood up trying to look over his shoulder to see his back.
"Oh, come here."
She stepped forward and manhandled him around and began picking at the fluff on his back.
"What are you doing between home and here?"
"I think it must be some trees I passed."
"Trees?"
"Yes I walked through the park."
"What kind of trees? Fluff trees!"
"They're shedding."
"Harry Pearce the Monty Don of MI5!"
He chuckled as she brushed his back in one final finishing gesture.
He turned around.
"You've missed a bit," he said looking out of the corner of his eye at his lapel.
She sighed and reached up, plucking it from his jacket.
"Thank you," he whispered and she felt it slide down her spine.
"You're welcome," she said daring to look at those eyes. Those Havensworth eyes.
"My phone's ringing," she announced already on her way out.
"Harry just called," said Dimitri, "he's got a meeting later with the HS wondered if you could get him some stats on a file on his desk. 'Nighthawk'."
Ruth nodded and turned to his office.
She went through the files on his desktop but couldn't see the right one. She stood up wondering if she should call him. No, it would be here. She opened his top drawer and glanced within. A collection of pens, a Lords scorecard, his diary, and a small, fat, open envelope filled with….fluff! Well, to be accurate filled with the feather light seeds from some kind of plant, she had no idea what, though they were familiar enough, she'd been picking them off Harry for the last two days.
She closed the drawer and started to walk out of his office, only then seeing the file she had been looking for lying on the floor. She picked it up and slid closed the door behind her.
Harry came back from the HS, for once in quite jovial mood.
"Good meeting?" asked Ruth as she walked in without knocking.
"Yes, he has his moments," said Harry flicking through several text messages,
"when he's not worrying about what to wear for 'Question Time'."
"Here's that file," she said laying it on the desk beside him.
"Thank you," he said glancing up at her "your intel was…"
"Useful?' she suggested.
Harry was just looking at her.
"Helpful?'
He stood up but still didn't speak.
"Vital to national security?"
"Yes. Yes." He had finally found his tongue.
"Good," she said and smiled before turning away.
"Ruth…"
"Yes, Harry," she turned back.
"You've got some…" he waved a finger unconvincingly towards her.
"Some…?" she said blankly keeping her eyes fixed on him.
"Some…on your…"
"Harry, cut to the chase."
He stepped closer and pointed to Ruth's chest.
There to the side of a button, level with what he could glance of her cleavage was a small feathery fluffy seed.
"Oh," said Ruth, seemingly finally aware of it, "I wonder where that came from?"
She looked up at Harry challengingly.
"There's a lot of it about, Ruth."
"Mmm," she agreed, "must be that time of the year."
"It must," he said as his fingers reached out and very delicately removed the offending article, offering it to her, "there you go."
"No Harry, you can keep it," her eyebrows raised. "add it to your collection."
He smiled now, caught, pondering his next response.
"Sometimes a man's just got to take what he can get, Ruth."
"By fair or foul means?"
"By any means necessary."
"Ok, Harry," she smiled and walked towards the door, "but if that fluff makes it anywhere near your trousers tomorrow, you're on your own!"
As Ruth walked across the Grid Dimitri wondered just what had tickled Harry so much. Still it was good to hear him laugh.