A/N – In which another attempt to be fluffy turned into an episode in the Kodaline series instead. It is kind of fluffy, at the beginning. Also I apologise for my language kink – sorry (but also not sorry). Set late season three/early season four-ish.

Now I know what I have found,
I feel we're close enough,
I wanna lock in your love,
I'm latching onto you.

The Grid was quiet for a Friday afternoon – almost unbelievably quiet. It had been a blessedly quiet week actually, so much so that Harry had gone off to his meeting with the Home Secretary with something close to a smile on his face and a spring in his step.

He would be on his way back now, Ruth thought, casting a glance around her at the team. Malcolm and Colin were holed up in their workshop – christened 'The Den' by Zaf – and their barely audible whispers as they tinkered with goodness knows what was the only sound aside from the rustle of paper or the click of keyboards. Adam, Fiona, Zaf and Jo were taking advantage of the distinct lack of terrorist activity and wading through mountains of unfinished paperwork. It was silly and sentimental but Ruth couldn't help smiling; it was nice sometimes to know where everyone was and that they were safe. She knew Harry would appreciate it.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, he appeared at the pods. The swish of the doors opening made everyone look up briefly but then they turned back to their work. Ruth waited until he looked at her and smiled. He returned it readily enough, his eyes indeed flickering to the peaceful sight of people hard at work, everyone accounted for.

"Cup of tea, everyone?" he asked, his voice low and cheerful. He was met by a round of nods and a call in the affirmative from The Den. He nodded and went briefly to his office, removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Ruth continued to watch him as he stepped into the kitchen and began pulling mugs from the sink, rinsing them as he went and lining them up on the worktop. Her heart swelled; he didn't have to do this. He could have asked one of the team to make a round of tea and no one would have even blinked. She wondered how many other section chiefs would do this sometimes for their teams. It had taken her a long time to notice how thoughtful Harry really was but now she had – well, she loved it about him.

She slipped from her seat, on pretence of giving him a hand but really knowing that she just needed to be near him when he was like this; warm and relaxed and soft. He turned to her as she came into the kitchenette, reaching as he did to flick the switches on the two kettles.

"Come to make sure I don't make a mistake?" he smiled, his voice teasing, "I'm not as obtuse as you think me, Ruth."

"I don't think you're obtuse," she shrugged, "I just thought you might like some help."

Harry didn't answer for a moment, tossing six teabags into six mugs and reaching for the coffee jar. Ruth felt the most unbearable urge to kiss him, right then. Not only did he know which mug belonged to which person, he even knew that at this time of day Colin and Fiona needed coffee to continue functioning. On top of all the things he had to know, all the things he had to worry about, he knew that as well.

"Are you alright, Ruth?" he asked, concern flashing across his face as he heaped coffee powder into Fiona's mug, "You look a little dazed."

She was painfully aware at that moment that their conversation was carrying onto the Grid and, just for once, she wanted Harry to herself. She wanted to pretend this Harry was just for her.

"Nein, nein. Es ist gut," she murmured her eyes on Harry's face, "Sehr gut. Ich bin müde. Ich bin immer müde."

I'm tired. I'm always tired.

Harry's eyes widened and he nodded when he realised what she was doing. Smiling secretly, he lowered his voice.

"Ich auch, Ruth."

Me too.

"Ich weiβ," she said, "Ich weiβ, du bist."

I know you are.

Her eyes strayed out to the Grid and she saw Zaf looking curiously in their direction, his ears pricked like a puppy.

"Die Kinder hören," Harry said, following her gaze.

The children are listening.

Harry's German accent was almost perfect, she noticed, not that she would have expected anything less. That accent had probably saved his life a few times back in the Cold War. In comparison, her university learned language seemed to pale slightly.

"Sind sie gut?" Harry murmured, reaching for the first kettle and filling the first four mugs. Aside from Fiona's delicate bird-covered mug and Colin's Doctor Who monstrosity, there was Malcolm's matching one and Jo's enormous Winnie the Pooh number.

Are they alright?

She didn't know how to answer that question, not really. She pointed to Fiona's mug.

"Sie fühlt sich schuldig. Ihr Mann auch."

Harry sighed and leaned on the worktop, his eyes fixed on the second, much slower kettle. He didn't need to be told that Fiona and Adam were suffering terribly with guilt over what had happened to Danny. He didn't need to be told because she had no doubt he was feeling the same.

"Und unser Junge?" he said, inclining his head in Zaf's direction, "Er ist glücklich?"

"Ja," Ruth smiled, "Und Jo. Malcolm mag sie sehr."

It was true. Malcolm had told her only the day before that he thought Jo and Zaf had some of the best potential he had ever seen in young agents and, coming from a veteran like him, that was a real compliment. Harry seemed to agree because he straightened back up and smiled once more.

The second kettle eventually clicked off and he filled the other four mugs; the FBI mug Fiona had got for Zaf as a joke, Adam's Chelsea one, Ruth's polka dot favourite and his own conservative dark blue one.

"Ich werde ein neue Becher kaufen," he said suddenly, pointing at his own cup, "Das ist so alt."

"Ich werde," Ruth said, "Für du. Bitte."

He looked ridiculously pleased that she had offered such a simple thing as to buy him a new mug. Her heart twinged again. He had no one to look after him, to do those little things for him that other people took for granted.

Before she could speak again, Zaf slipped into the kitchen and said conspiringly, "Warum sind wir in Deutsch sprechen?"

Why are we speaking in German?

Ruth felt herself going red at having been caught but then she heard Harry chuckle.

"Der Junge spricht kein Deutsch, Ruth," he said absently, adding measures of milk to the teas, "Er fragte Malcolm. Er weiβ nicht, was wir sagen."

Zaf was grinning mischievously and she slapped him lightly on the arm, knowing what Harry said was true. Zaf didn't have a word of German to his name. He must have slipped into The Den and asked Malcolm, the only other team member who did speak the language.

"Malcolm!" Harry called, not turning from his task to even look at The Den. Malcolm's head appeared round the door and he seemed to understand the game before it had even begun.

"Ja?"

"Hat Zafar fragte du Deutsch?"

"Ja. Warum?"

"Keinen Grund. Ich werde seinen Namen sagen. Werdt du und Ruth lachen?"

"Ja."

"Ich sage es jetzt. Zafar. Bitte lachen."

On cue, Ruth and Malcolm laughed, although it was not difficult to do so; Zaf's face was a picture as he tried to decide if he was being teased or not.

Harry let him wonder a little longer before turning and handing him his tea, patting him firmly on the shoulder as he did so.

"It's alright, Zaf," Harry said, "Don't eavesdrop on me again, even if you don't understand."

The peace of the afternoon was shattered after that, as the team gathered around the middle bank of desks to drink their tea and share the biscuits Colin had produced from a hiding place in The Den. Ruth perched on the edge of Jo's desk and watched Harry, who had settled into the chair Zaf had graciously vacated for him. Recovered from his mild humiliation, Zaf had asked Harry for a story about his exploits in Germany and, for once, Harry was happy to oblige. The rest of the team listened amicably enough; Jo's eyes were wide. Adam and Malcolm watched Harry fondly, Colin and Zaf interrupting with questions. Ruth didn't notice Fiona looking at her, nor did she see the knowing look that Fiona then gave Adam.

There was no one at the moment for her, no one except for Harry. This gentle, funny, thoughtful, sensitive Harry, this Harry who she was starting to suspect was the real one, buried as he was under layers of self -preservation and duty. There had been glimpses of him from the beginning, from the moment that she first knew him. She had almost expected the dry sense of humour. She had not expected the silly jokes, a laugh and a smile at something that seemed so very childish and innocent. A kind word, here and there, when it was really needed. A cup of tea at the end of a long day. A nip of whisky to alleviate some shaking hands. She had watched all of this at first with a kind of interested disassociation. She cannot remember when it became so very important to her.

She did remember the first time she had really seen Harry though.

He'd been there for the first time after Danny died. She caught the look of devastation on his face as they heard the gun go off. When Sam had been hysterical, he'd disappeared into his office. At first, Ruth thought he was irritated by the young woman's behaviour; it was only later that she realised he simply could not stand to watch Sam's breakdown. He hadn't been able to look at Danny's body, any more than he could look at the photograph that had sat on top of his coffin. She knew then who he was. He was a man who could not bear the pain of innocent people, who felt that he needed to keep his grief to himself so that he could support others through theirs. He was a man who had lost so much and was denied more still and yet could still get out of bed in the morning.

His strength was incredible.

A laugh from the gathered team brought her back to herself and she refocused on the conversation. Whatever Harry had just said amused Zaf, Adam and Colin very much. Jo and Fiona were rolling their eyes, Malcolm grinning into his mug to avoid eye contact with either group. Harry was smiling, that all too rare smile. He was beautiful, when he smiled and she wondered if he knew. Ruth no longer blushed when such a thought crossed her mind; she had long become used to them. Sometimes when he came to speak to her, she was glad she was usually sitting down, because his eyes were sometimes so intense that she knew her legs would have been shaking had she been standing.

"Anyway," Harry grinned, "That's enough of that. Don't you people have some work you should be getting on with?"

"Busted," Zaf groaned, "Operation Distract Harry has failed."

Slowly the team drifted back to their desks and their paperwork. Ruth felt, rather than heard, someone following her to hers and she did not need to turn around to know who it was. She sat down and tried to school her features as Harry sat on the edge of the desk and put his face close to her ear.

"I think they needed that, don't you?"

It took a moment for her to realise that he was genuinely asking, that he really wanted her evaluation of his interaction with the team. There was a trace of worry on his face. It was sad really; he cared so very much for his people but he always had to maintain a kind of distance, a distance that meant he could never know any of them as well as they knew each other.

"That was exactly what they needed," Ruth nodded, willing to say just about anything as long as his smile would come back, "They worship you, you know."

I worship you.

She had never seen Harry blush before but he did now, a delicious slow blush that made him look ten years younger and she wondered for a panicked second if she had said the second part out loud. Then he looked down at the desk and composed himself, before he cleared his throat.

"Thank you, Ruth. Sometimes it's nice to be reminded of these things. Especially when one feels-"

"Guilty."

"Guilty," he said wistfully, and his hand twitched as though he had considered reaching out and laying it in top of hers. Ruth held her breath, willing him to do it. She wanted desperately to know what those hands felt like. Instead he stood up and straightened his tie, which didn't need straightening in the slightest. He was looking at her as though he was seeing her for the first time and when she tried to return his gaze, he went red again and turned around.

"Back to work then," he said loudly, for everyone to hear, "I might even let you leave early if you behave yourselves."

At the door to his office, he turned briefly and looked once more in her direction. She forced herself to smile and was glad that he tried to as well.

Ruth studiously ignored the fact that he spent the rest of the afternoon pacing like a caged animal. It didn't do to think too much, not now.

The last thing she needed was to start thinking that the man she was in love with might love her back.