Disclaimer: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC, which is a bit of a shame really otherwise Ruth would be able to indulge her fetish a lot more. ;) :P

A/N: This was inspired by a comment made by a Spooks fan out in internet land. If that person would like a named credit, I'm happy to do so. This is just a bit of fluffy nonsense, not to be taken seriously. And not quite as naughty as the title might suggest, which is probably a good thing…

Fetish /fet'ish or fē'tish/ (n) (inter alia) A person who is the object of an obsessive fixation.

-x-x-x-

It had to stop, it really did. She was obsessed, completely and utterly, and she'd very nearly revealed the full extent of her obsession, her fetish. Despite being alone in the Ladies, Ruth blushed as she thought about what had occurred that evening.

One hour ago

The pods whirred and Harry, Adam and Zaf stepped out of them in perfectly choreographed unison.

"Evening, ladies," Adam greeted Ruth and Jo. "Did you miss me?"

"Of course," Jo replied, smirking, "not."

Undeterred, Adam sat on the edge of Ruth's desk and gave her his most seductive smile. "You missed me though, didn't you, Ruth?"

The analyst murmured "mmm, yes," much to the surprise of her younger colleague who then realised her attention was focussed elsewhere. He followed the direction of her gaze and found, unsurprisingly, that she was staring at Harry, who was deep in conversation with Malcolm.

Adam turned to look at Jo and Zaf and raised his eyebrows. Jo grinned and mouthed 'told you so'.

Ruth watched her boss, willing him to finish what he'd started before Malcolm had intercepted him on his way to his office. She inhaled sharply as Harry's broad fingers once again tugged absently at the black bow tie around his neck, finally undoing it. She stopped breathing when he undid the first, second and then the third press stud fastening on the crisp, white dress shirt he was wearing. She was still gawping at him, open mouthed, when he turned to look at her.

"Are you all right, Ruth?" he enquired, wondering why she was looking so flushed.

"Eh? Oh…er…oh…y-yes, fine, H-Harry," she spluttered, evading his gaze. Oh shit! How long had she been staring? Ogling, her brain corrected. That's what she'd been doing, ogling Harry. Watching him undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, imagining all manner of things. X-rated things… She felt her face burn even hotter.

"Are you sure you're OK, Ruth?" Harry asked, leaning on her desk and looking down at her, concern evident on his face.

She nodded, not trusting herself to say anything.

"You look a little…." Harry gently rested the back of his hand on her forehead as he searched around for a suitable adjective to describe Ruth's appearance. "Hot," he continued, "I mean, you feel hot. You're not coming down with something are you?"

Too late, Ruth thought, she'd already come down with it. She was lovesick. Lust-sick. Completely and utterly consumed with thoughts of Harry, of being with Harry, of doing things with Harry…

"Oh God," she breathed, squeezing her eyes tightly shut. She didn't dare open them and look at him.

"Ruth?"

Some sense of self-preservation, and a desire not to make even more of a fool of herself than she'd already done so, snapped Ruth out of it. "I'm fine, Harry, really. It's been a long day, I'm just tired."

"Right, if you're sure." Harry felt a little disappointed at Ruth's apparent recovery. Not that he wanted her to be unwell but he'd been hoping to exploit the situation and insist on giving her a lift home. "Well, you should probably go soon, get some rest."

-x-

Ruth had been doing quite well, even managing to ignore the not-very-veiled comments Zaf and Adam had been making, until it was time to take some surveillance reports into Harry. He wasn't at his desk but was sitting on the sofa with his back to the rest of the Grid. It was only once Ruth got into his office that she realised he had taken his jacket off. She was confronted with the sight of Harry tieless, sleeves rolled up and, much to her consternation and delight, displaying a substantial amount of skin at the open neck of his shirt.

"Hello. I thought I'd told you go home and get some rest," he said, giving her a soft smile.

"Uh…I wanted to…uh…to finish these." She thrust the file she was carrying at him.

"Thanks, Ruth, but they would've kept until the morning." He tried to take the folder from her but her fingers were still firmly grasping the edge of it. "Ruth?"

She didn't answer and she didn't let go of the file leaving Harry unsure as to what to do. Once again she seemed to have disappeared off into her own little world, one that involved staring at his chest. He looked down at his shirt wondering if he'd spilt something on it. Or whether it was stretched unappealingly across his expanding waistline. Neither seemed to be the case, much to his relief.

"Ruth?" he tried again.

"What? Oh, sorry." She let go of the folder and backed away from him. "Right, um, unless you want me for anything else, I'll be off."

Her words hung in the air, laden with intent, waiting for one or other of them to act on them, but neither felt brave enough.

"No, no, that'll be all, thanks, Ruth. Night."

Ruth smiled at him. "Night, Harry." She started walking backwards again, wanting to continue looking at his chest for as long as possible. Unfortunately, she collided with the edge of his desk and nearly fell over.

Harry quickly stood up and moved towards her, catching hold of her wrists. "Are you OK?"

"F-fine, Harry. Sorry."

She was frozen to the spot, her eyes darting between his face and the open neck of his shirt, which she now had a perfect, close-up view of. His skin was smooth, tanned and very appealing. She wanted to place her lips against his collar bone and slowly, oh so slowly, trail her tongue down his chest, tasting him, teasing him…

Oh God! Things were in danger of going too far; far too far. Ruth extracted herself from Harry's hold, mumbled 'goodnight' and made a swift exit out of his office. She stopped on the Grid only long enough to switch off her computer and grab her bag and coat.

-x-

Ruth sighed and splashed cold water on her face. She needed to get a grip, and not of Harry, has appealing as the idea was. If she carried on the way she had today, she was going to make herself look even more of a monumental idiot than she already had and completely put Harry off. She patted her face dry, combed her hair, and then cautiously opened the door of the Ladies. The corridor was deserted. She hurried in the direction of the back staircase, hoping she could make it out of Thames House without running into anyone, least of all Harry.

Three weeks later.

Ruth was immensely proud of herself. She managed to go a whole three weeks without getting caught ogling Harry's chest. Not that she had stopped looking; she still liked to sneak a peek when she could but she limited herself to just a few seconds at a time. She'd also been helped in her endeavour by the fact that Harry had not been sans tie or had the collar of his shirt open in her presence in those three weeks. Ruth couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed by that but she knew it was for the best. She needed to beat this obsession and, so far, she was making good progress. That was until the air conditioning on the Grid failed right in the middle of a heat-wave…

The heat hit Ruth the minute she stepped out of the pods. It was unbelievably hot, quite possibly the hottest she'd ever known the Grid to be. Access tiles in the ceiling were hanging down and Colin was standing on a chair that had been placed on a desk. Malcolm was holding on to the chair and pleading with his colleague to be careful. Dust dribbled out of the ceiling void, making the two techies cough.

"What's going on?" Ruth asked, picking up a folder to fan herself with.

"Air conditioning's failed and Internal Services have no idea when the engineers will get here," Malcolm explained, loosening his tie a bit more. "We thought we'd have a look to see if we could fix it."

"It's no good," Colin said, emerging from the ceiling coated in a thin layer of dirt. "We don't have any spares and I don't think we've even got anything to bodge it with. Sorry." He carefully climbed down from his makeshift ladder. "Looks like we're at the mercy of Internal Services and the air-con engineers."

-x-

It didn't get any better. Fans provided by Internal Services did nothing more than push the hot air around the Grid. Promises were made of portable air conditioning units but nothing materialised. The afternoon briefing was particularly difficult as they were all hot, tired and dehydrated. In the end, Harry cut the meeting short and retreated to his office. The rest of the team returned to their desks and slumped over their keyboards.

Ruth downed another cup of water and tried to focus on the words on the screen in front of her. Her fetish for Harry's chest was back and it was stronger than ever. Thirty-five minutes in the meeting room sitting opposite him had completely undone her. She had no idea what anyone had said from the moment she'd spotted a small bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and disappearing inside his shirt. All she'd wanted to do was undo the rest of his buttons to see where the droplet of moisture ended up. She got up, refilled the plastic cup with water and drank it all in one go. It wasn't helping. She filled the cup once again and sat back at her desk. She took a deep breath and willed herself to focus on her work.

Twenty minutes later, Ruth stood up and walked slowly to the printer. Even that seemed to be on some sort of heat induced go-slow and had only just churned out the last part of her report. She gathered up the pages and checked there were none missing before stapling them together. Then she headed towards Harry's office.

As was her way, she didn't bother knocking but just walked straight in. And then wished she hadn't. Harry had gone from being slightly rumpled to very dishevelled. Not only were his sleeves rolled up to above the elbow, he'd also un-tucked his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. And if that wasn't enough, most of the buttons were now undone.

Ruth had just enough time to take in his appearance before she began to feel very light-headed, and then everything seemed to fade away.

Harry wasn't quite quick enough to stop Ruth from landing on the floor but he managed to slow her fall and prevent her from banging her head. He knelt beside her, gently patting her hand and saying her name but got no response. Deciding the best thing to do was get her off the floor and somewhere more comfortable, he carefully slid one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. His back protested slightly as he lifted her up and he was grateful it wasn't far to his sofa. He laid her down on it, and then went to get his jacket, which he folded up and placed under her head as a pillow.

Jo hovered in the doorway of Harry's office, wondering if she was interrupting something. She'd happened to look up just as Harry had carried Ruth over to his sofa and, curiosity piqued, she'd crept over to see what was going on. She realised now that it wasn't quite what it seemed.

"Is everything all right, Harry?" the young blonde asked.

"Get the Duty Medical Officer, will you? Ruth fainted."

When Ruth came round, Harry was leaning over her, gently mopping her brow with a damp cloth. The sight of him was nearly enough to cause her to faint again so she quickly closed her eyes.

"Ruth? Ruth?"

Cautiously, she opened one eye and peered at Harry. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"Are you feeling better?" he enquired, squeezing her hand.

Ruth carefully nodded her head. "I still feel a bit…fuzzy."

"Don't worry, the Duty M.O. is on his way to check you out. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"You could…you could…" She tugged at his hand that was still holding the damp cloth.

"Oh, of course."

Two days later.

Thankfully, the heat of the previous few days had dissipated and a cool, refreshing breeze had blown away the last of the thunderstorms that had broken the hot spell. Ruth was grateful that Harry had insisted she'd take the day off after she'd fainted. She'd missed the storms, and the subsequent collapse of London's transport systems that always seemed to occur whenever the weather was slightly out of the ordinary. Instead of fighting her way through puddles and hoards of angry commuters, Ruth had been able to sit at home with her cats and watch the lightening flicker across the sky. Neither cat was particularly keen on thunder so they'd huddled on the sofa with Ruth as the rain lashed against the windows. And she'd been grateful for their company, not that she would admit that to anyone.

Ruth slowed as she neared Harry's house, wondering if she was doing the right thing. All she wanted to do was say thank you for his kindness and his concern. Of course, it could have waited until Monday when they would be back on the Grid but she'd decided she rather say it to him privately, away from the others. It had nothing to do with wanting to see him in off-duty mode; nothing at all.

When Harry opened his front door, it was clear that he was very much in off-duty mode. He was wearing faded blue jeans and a cream, short-sleeved cotton shirt, the top two buttons of which were undone.

"Hello, Ruth. This is a surprise," he greeted her, warmly. "Come in."

She stepped into the hall and stopped right by the front door. "Hi. I hope you don't mind but I thought I'd drop by and say thank you. For looking after me on Thursday. You know, when I fainted."

"Yes, I know."

"Anyway, that's all I wanted to say. Oh, and thanks for letting Mike drive me home."

"You're most welcome, Ruth," Harry smiled. "But I was hardly going to let you go home by public transport in that heat, especially after you'd fainted."

"No, I suppose not." She went quiet after that, not entirely sure what else to say to him.

"Can you stay for a while?" Harry asked, more in hope than expectation.

"Well, I don't know…I don't want to get in the way."

"Please, Ruth. You wouldn't be in the way. You're not in the way."

She capitulated with a shy smile and followed Harry down the hall, through the kitchen and out into the garden. Scarlett, who'd been dozing on the patio, raised her head at the sound of their footsteps and barked a greeting at Ruth before going back to sleep.

"Would you like a drink?" Harry offered as Ruth sat down at the small, metal patio table.

She looked at the tall glass that was already sitting there and frowned slightly.

"It's apple juice, Ruth. It's a bit early for whisky, even by my standards."

She blushed. "Sorry, Harry. Can I have some?"

"Of course."

He returned a couple of minutes later with another glass of juice and placed it in front of her before sitting opposite her.

"You look…" Lovely was what he wanted to say but he settled for "much better."

Ruth avoided his gaze and ran a finger through the condensation that had formed on the outside of her glass. "Thanks," she replied, quietly. "I am better."

"I was concerned about you when you passed out. You seemed to be hallucinating at one point. Before you fully regained consciousness."

Worry began to niggle at Ruth's stomach. "Hallucinating? What…um…what did I say?"

"Something about my chest," Harry replied, deadpan. "And wanting to run your fingers over it."

"Oh Lord…"

"At least I think that's what you said. You were mumbling a bit."

He was toying with her. Ruth found the idea not in the least bit unwelcome and, suddenly, her stomach was fluttering for a whole different reason.

"You do…you do have a lovely chest," she said, quietly, not daring to look at him.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "A lovely chest?" he repeated.

"Yes."

A smile tugged at his lips. "You do realise that's a bit sexist, Ruth."

"I don't understand," she replied, temporarily forgetting her nerves and meeting his gaze.

"Well, if I said you had a lovely chest, you'd probably slap my face and call me a chauvinist."

"B-but it's not really the same, is it?" she floundered, starting to worry that Harry might actually be serious.

"Why not? Equality in all things, isn't that supposed to be the way of the world now?"

He could keep a straight face but he couldn't hide the fact his eyes were twinkling with mischief. Ruth silently cursed herself for being taken in so easily.

"And, as far as I know," Harry continued, determined to extract a bit more amusement from the situation, "you've never seen my chest, at least, not all of it. Not unless you've been spying on me in the Thames House showers."

Ruth blushed. It wasn't that she had ever spied on Harry in the shower, it was just that the thought of doing so had crossed her mind. Once or twice. Or possibly more.

"Of course not!" she spluttered, aiming for indignant but missing by a mile. "That would be outrageous." She glared at him. "You wouldn't spy on me in the shower, would you?"

Unfortunately, Harry chose that exact moment to take a sip of his drink. It was at least two minutes before he could speak again.

"No, Ruth," he said, his voice still croaky. "I would never spy on you in the shower." Not that he hadn't thought about her, naked and soaped up…

"Oh."

It was amazing how one small word could say so much.

"Would you like to see my chest?"

"Yes, Harry, I would. Very much."

"OK but on one condition. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

There was silence as Ruth contemplated the offer. It was, she decided, a fair deal. A very fair deal.

The End

Thanks for reading.