Disclaimer: Not my characters. Woe.
A/N: Written for the Valentine's challenge on the Spooks forum – "happy Harry/Ruth, no angst". Didn't quite fulfil the condition of no angst, but mild angst can be a good thing, yes? Many thanks to delgaserasca for the beta.
This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First, to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet. – Rumi
It's Ruth's party, but she's not in a particularly festive mood and so while most of her colleagues are dancing, she is sitting at the table, slowly sipping her cocktail. She would have preferred a quiet evening at home, but agreed to the party more for the sake of the others. It's been a rough few days: the end of the world narrowly averted. Again.
She senses someone approaching and decides that if it's the idiot from Section G asking her to dance again, she'll—
"Happy birthday, Ruth. Sorry I'm late."
"Harry."
He smiles, then sits. Looking at her, his smile fades. "Ruth?"
"What?"
"Are you alright?" He touches her shoulder.
Too late she remembers she's supposed to be celebrating. So far she's done a good job pretending – but this is Harry. It's become increasingly harder to pretend with him. She tries anyway, smiling weakly. "I was just thinking. And I'm slightly tipsy. Bad combination."
"Thinking about what?" His hand is still on her shoulder.
"Just wondering what my life would be like if I'd chosen a different path." A brief laugh. "The strange thing is, I can't imagine myself anywhere else."
"Perhaps that means you're exactly where you're supposed to be." His eyes are dark, his voice low, and it is easy to read things in his words that may not be there.
She pretends, again, to ignore it. "In a club, slowly getting drunk?"
He frowns. "I'm not even going to ask who picked the venue."
Ruth shrugs. "I don't mind."
He glances over at their dancing colleagues, then back at Ruth. "Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Let me take you to dinner, then."
"Harry—"
He holds up a hand to stall her protest. "My birthday gift to you. A quiet birthday, a decent venue and, hopefully, good conversation."
Ruth nods. She can't think of anything she would rather be doing than spending the evening with Harry. She realizes she's grinning like an idiot, and drops her head, then begins to gather her gifts.
Harry's idea of a decent venue turns out to be an exclusive Italian restaurant.
"Harry—" she begins, once they're seated.
He cuts her off with a small shake of his head. "Save your thanks until the end of the evening."
"Impossible man," she murmurs. When she glances at him, he is smiling. She bites her lip to prevent her own smile from betraying her amusement.
"How long do you think it will take them to realise you're gone?"
She laughs. "It depends how much they've been drinking."
"Do you wish you'd stayed?" There's a note of uncertainty in his tone that Ruth thinks is just her imagination.
"No." She smiles, suddenly shy. "This is – nice."
"I'm glad," he says.
There is something different in the way that he's looking at her and she can no longer deny things are changing between them. Tonight, as her birthday present to herself, she is going to enjoy the moment.
She smiles, and does not look away.