Title: Moving Day
Fandom: Spooks
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Ruth
Rating: M
Warnings: Some sexual content in chapter 2

Summary: Sequel to Flat Hunting. Harry helps Ruth move into her new flat. Two-shot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Spooks or any of the characters you may recognise. They all belong to Kudos/BBC.

A/N: When I finished 'Flat Hunting' back in July last year, I toyed with the idea of a sequel but when it never materialised, I figured it was over but... apparently not. I just needed 10 months to let the idea percilate and well, here it is. You may need to go and re-read 'Flat Hunting' first.

Chapter 1

"This is the last one," Harry said breathlessly as he carried the final box into Ruth's new flat.

"Thanks Harry," she told him appreciatively as she emptied another box. She looked at the big label on the side in order to direct Harry as to where to put it. "Could you pop it over there please?" she asked, pointing in the direction of the back of her living room.

Harry did as she asked and placed the box in the corner of the room, wincing slightly as he stood; he's worked bloody hard today, they both have. Ruth had hired removal men to do most of the heavy lifting, but there were some things that she deemed too precious to entrust to the care of the troglodytes she'd hired to move her things. Given the fact that he and Ruth had recently begun to explore a relationship outside of work he felt he should offer his service. He was beginning to regret that now. The offer to help her move that is, not the relationship. He could never regret that.

In the three weeks since their kiss on the rooftop, Harry had been happier than ever before and it was all down to her. Knowing that she wanted him, that she valued him, that she regarded him as worthy enough to spend time with, to begin to love astounded him, but it also filled him with a joy he'd never really known before; not even with Jane.

Seeing his face contort in pain, Ruth approached him. "Are you okay?"

Harry nods. "Just a slight twinge, it'll be fine," he assured her. "What on earth was in that box?" he asked, "it weighed a tonne!"

"Books," she replied.

"And they didn't go with the removal men because…?"

"Because some of them are first edition Islamic scholars," she informed him.

"Ah yes. Of course," he replied, a teasing smirk in his voice. Ruth retorted by sticking her tongue out at him, before she flopped on the sofa. Harry joined her, his body was tired and achy; he was too old to be hauling boxes up and down a flight of stairs. They shared a moment of silence until it was broken by the rumble of Harry's stomach.

Ruth giggled. "Hungry?"

"A little," Harry admitted, embarrassed at being given away by his body.

"Well, I've not unpacked all my kitchen boxes yet, so it'll have to be a take-away, is that okay?"

"Fine by me. I'm led to believe there's a pretty decent Chinese around here."

"Yes, Robert was kind enough to leave me a menu." She stood and retrieved the menu from the kitchen notice board.

They quickly decided on their order and Harry rang and placed it. Hanging up, he turned to her and said, "It'll be ready in about half an hour. I'll go and collect it and maybe pick us up a bottle of wine to go with it?"

"You're assuming I can find my wine glasses," she reminded him.

"If we have to drink it out of mugs, then so be it; after all the hard work we've done today, we deserve it."

Ruth had to agree.

Forty minutes later they were tucking into sweet and sour chicken, fried rice, chow mein and spring rolls.

"I'm glad you thought to pick up plastic cutlery," Ruth commented. "I'd hate for you to see me try and eat this with my hands; not a pretty sight." Harry smiled. "And I'm sorry about the cups," Ruth continued, gesturing to the cat-adorned mug that was holding his wine, "they were the first thing I laid my hands on."

"It's fine," he told her, picking up his cup and sloshing it around. "A toast," he announced. "To your new place."

"Here, here," she agreed and clinked her mug to Harry's.

They ate, both too hungry to speak. The meal was going well, but when stretching for another spring roll, Harry's back jerked and he gave a muffled cry of pain.

Ruth was startled, "What? What is it?"

He put down his food and massaged the offending part of his lower back. "Just another twinge, don't worry."

But a second later it happened again, only this time the spark of discomfort brought him to his feet with a grimace, and he bit his lower lip.

Ruth placed her food on the coffee table and stood up beside him, her face a mask of concern. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine; it's just age. It happens when I over-stress it."

"Why didn't you tell me? I could easily have asked Adam of Zaf to help me move."

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you. You're my girlfriend; it's my job to do the heavy lifting."

Ruth made a face. "What?" Harry asked.

"Girlfriend… it sounds so high school."

"Is there a term that you would prefer?"

"Not that I can't think of. 'Partner' sounds too formal, 'Lover', too salacious."

"Well, however you want to describe yourself, we're together now, so that means I do the heavy lifting for you. No one else." He was a bit put out by her suggestion of getting Adam or Zaf to help her; they're both better looking and fitter than he is.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to trade you in for a younger model," she told him, reading his mind. "Is there anything I can do for you back?"

"Not really. Don't worry it'll be fine in a few days."

Suddenly an idea came to her. She sat in the corner of the sofa and beckoned him to sit next to her at an angle, so his back was facing her. He did so, wondering what exactly she was doing. He didn't have to wait long to find out as he felt her splay her hands across his lower back and exert a gentle pressure.

"Is that okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," he breathed. "That feels good."

Ruth kept up the pressure for a few moments, before dropping her hands. "It might be easier if you take your shirt of Harry," she whispered.

He is thrown for a second by the request as their relationship had yet to progress past a few mild snogging sessions on the sofa. "Err, okay." Harry lifted his t-shirt over his head. "Better?"

Ruth swallowed; the expanse of bare skin that was visible to her now almost rendered her speechless. "Much."

When Harry felt the touch of her fingers on his skin, he tensed for a moment at the foreign feeling but he soon relaxed as Ruth's warm caresses registered. She was running her hands from his shoulders all the way down to the waistband of his jeans. The sensations she was creating were exquisite but the angle he was sat at just wasn't comfortable, so he kept moving and fidgeting, leading Ruth to think he wasn't enjoying her efforts.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Harry replied turning to face her. "It's great, really. It's just I'm not very comfortable and that's not helping my back."

Ruth chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, garnering the courage to say what she desperately wanted to. "Well, I've got a rather comfy new bed. Would that be better?"

Harry hesitated for a second. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea. If I get too comfortable, I might not want to move when you decide it's time to kick me out."

"Who said anything about kicking you out…?" She let the statement hang in the air giving its meaning time to sink in, before she stood and held out her hand to him. "Are you coming?"