Ruth stood clutching her drink as she timidly scanned the crowd for a familiar face. This was her first office Christmas party at her new job and she felt awfully awkward- more so then usual, even. The George had been booked out for all the office staff at Thames House and Ruth couldn't spot anyone she knew from Section D. And then she saw Harry.

Her new boss, who, frankly she found quite intimidating, was sitting in a booth with another man around his age drinking whiskey. Harry caught her eye and nodded for her to join him. Ruth really didn't know whether she should be relieved or alarmed.

Harry had found himself caught drinking with Oliver Mace, of all people, and seized the chance to extract himself when he saw Ruth scanning the crowd timidly. Sweet Ruth Evershed, who was quite a bit more totted up then he'd ever seen her in the office, Harry thought to himself. He ran his eyes over her subtly. She was wearing an aubergine dress that wrapped around her slim body, clinging to, he noted, well-proportioned curves. The neck was cut in a deep vee, exposing the tops of her full breasts, which he speculated must be being pushed up tantalisingly by some wondrous female contraption. And although the length of the dress cut her demurely at her knee, he'd never seen her legs that exposed before, either. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling himself swell slightly with arousal. If only she dressed like that everyday, he smirked, being stuck behind a desk for a living would be a lot more fun.

Beside him, Oliver Mace's eyes flicked slyly between Harry and the woman.

Ruth smiled nervously as she walked over, feeling eyes on her. He's rather unfeasibly gorgeous tonight, she thinks, with his dress shirt rolled up around strongly muscled forearms, and open around his thick neck. But wait- what was he smirking at?

"Ruth," Harry exclaimed charmingly, "Glad you can join us."

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Ruth shyly returned, taking her seat next to him.

"How are you finding the party?"

"Oh, it's lovely to see The George decked out all Christmassy. I like all the tinsel. And I must say, I also don't mind the open bar," Ruth joked, then almost immediately felt gauche. She took a deep swig of said drink to compensate.

But she was relieved to find Harry's companion answered her good-naturedly. "More than we mere civil servants should get used to, I say."

"Ruth, this is Oliver Mace, Chairman of the JIC, deigning to join us from Whitehall," Harry swept in smoothly. "Oliver, this is Ruth Evershed, my new star analyst. I've just made her transfer from GCHQ permanent, actually."

"Well congratulations are in order then, Miss Evershed. I dare say you are rather glad to be out of Cheltenham, then?"

"Very, MI5 is rather more… exciting," Ruth smiled bashfully.

"And I imagine a beautiful woman such as yourself would be entirely wasted on those swotty little bookworms, no?"

"Oh. Don't be silly…" Ruth replied faintly, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.

"Come on. I bet those boys didn't know what to do with you, did they?" Mace carried on.

"Certainly didn't appreciate you enough, did they Ruth?" Harry interjected. "Otherwise they wouldn't have let me poach you for Section D. Ruth was, Oliver, rather crucial to us on the Major Curtis case."

"As yes, the Major Curtis case. Terrible bit of business that was. What is the country coming to, him, when our own military is threatening us with nuclear annihilation?" Mace took up Harry's line of questioning.

Ruth flashed Harry a quick smile of thanks for steering the conversation back to safer ground. As they continued to debate the case, Ruth found herself studying Harry's profile. His was a strong face, rugged with wear, but not an unkind face, intimidating though he may be. There was something rather gentle, really, in his features- perhaps in the pout of his full lips, and in the warm twinkle of his eyes. Yes, Harry had intimidated her, but not in the same way Mace did. From her first day in the office, when she had barged into the meeting feeling like an intruder, and a clumsy one at that, Harry had been kind.

Harry lifted his whisky to his lips and sipped sensuously. Ruth unconsciously mirrored his actions, finishing her wine. She found herself staring at his hands wrapped around the glass- they were as rugged as his face, and with fingers long and deliciously thick. Ruth found herself with the rather vivid image of their large roughness cupping her face…

"Can I get you another drink, Ruth?" Harry's purr interrupted. "Another white wine, was it? And more whiskey for you and I, Oliver, I should think."

Ruth shuffled over to allow Harry to exit the booth. She wasn't allowed to stay there, however, as Mace patted the seat next to him invitingly.

"So, Sir, why did you decide to come tonight? I mean, I wouldn't have thought you'd have been interested in our office party. Not that… I mean… I'm not suggesting you don't have a hands on role directing us-"

"No offence taken, Ruth," Mace smiled kindly. "Confidentially, I don't have to go to these staff things. But, well, there's something in the lose inhibitions of a gathering of inebriated spies together, that makes it a pretty unparalleled opportunity to gather intelligence about the department. Not to mention prime blackmail material. And I never mind a good piss up with old Harry."

"Old Harry? Isn't he around your age, Sir?" Ruth giggled.

"Enough of that, Miss Evershed. I don't need pretty young things like you reminding me of my years," Mace leered.

Ruth continued to giggle obliging, but a ring of false cheered now entered her voice.

Walking back from the bar with their drinks Harry was annoyed to hear Mace had made Ruth giggle. She was sitting very close to him. Harry told himself the annoyance was because he had thought she was much too clever to fall for the charm of a sleazebag like Mace. Yes, the annoyance was because he had misjudged her intelligence, and certainly not because of the attention she had chosen to eschew from Harry, True, he may admire her figure in a tight dress, and enjoy flustering her when she bumbles into his office unannounced, but that is nothing more than he would enjoy dallying with any pretty woman in his day-to-day life.

Nonetheless, Harry was sure to imbue more than a little flair of the debonair into his saunter when he placed the drink in front of Ruth.

Harry slid into the booth, squeezing Ruth's small frame between his and Mace's larger ones.

"Any plans for Christmas Day, Ruth?" Harry retook her attention with the first question he could think of; only realising when the words were out of his mouth that is wasn't a topic he particularly wanted to talk about.

"Oh," answered Ruth dazedly, gazing up at Harry, "Just family stuff as I always do. I'll have to drive back to my mother's in Cheltenham on Christmas Eve. What about you two?"

"Oh, much the same. Actually, my son and his wife will be bringing their newborn to Christmas this year. My first grandchild, a strapping young boy to carry on the old family name," Mace answered proudly.

"That's lovely," Ruth smiled. "Have you got a photo?"

Harry watched as Mace pulled a photo of his son and grandson out of his wallet and Ruth cooed sweetly over it.

"He's gorgeous. Your son must be so pleased. And you, Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"Any plans for Christmas?"

"Ah. Well, I was planning on having the girlfriend round mind for a nice roast dinner."

"Sounds lovely, too. But I wouldn't have picked you as a chef, Harry?" Ruth answered easily.

"And why exactly do you think I couldn't manage a simple roast dinner, Ruth? I mean," he continued, patting his stomach, "Does it look to you like I don't enjoy my food?"

Ruth lips curved coyly, "I won't comment. But…?"

"No, you're quite right too, I don't cook. Tasha offered to commandeer my kitchen."

"Mmm, as I thought," Ruth replied knowingly.

Inside, however, she was filled with a slight melancholia at the knowledge that Harry was seeing someone. Of course he would be, and of course even if he wasn't he'd never be interested in someone like her… Not that she would be interested in someone like him, either.

Strangely enough, Harry seemed suddenly melancholic, too, although why the idea of having his girlfriend round for dinner would upset him was beyond her. Ruth wondered what a woman named Tasha would look like. Would she be very pretty and entirely too young for him?

Ruth took a swift gulp of her drink. She felt it going to her head. Between work, going home to change, and the Christmas party, she hadn't had any time for dinner, and it was affecting her.

"How is the wine, Ruth?" asked Mace.

"Oh, it's very nice, Sir."

"You look like you're enjoying it."

"Oh?"

"Yes. You're cheeks, they're rather charmingly flushed. Oh and Ruth? It's Oliver, please," Mace said slickly, punctuating his plea with a squeeze of her leg.

"Of course, Oliver."

Ruth didn't know where to look. Her gaze fell to her hands, twisting furiously in her lap. Mace found Harry glaring across at him rather savagely. He smirked back at Harry, but removed his hand.

"Oh, look… it's Malcolm!" Ruth exclaimed suddenly.

"Hmm?" asked Harry.

"Harry, I must go say hello to Malcolm. He's just arrived, oh, and he's standing there all by himself. Excuse me, please, Harry. O-O-Oliver."

Ruth shot up tipsily and attempted to climb across Harry and out of the booth, but she overbalanced and landed clumsily in his lap instead.

"Oh god, Harry…" Ruth apologised.

Harry's round face was turning an alarming shade of red as Ruth wiggled.

"I'm so clumsy."

"Nonsense," Harry grunted, lifting her up.

Mace pointedly said nothing until Ruth was out of earshot. Then he slapped Harry on the back and chuckled heartily.

"Not bad, old man!"

Harry's glare was murderous.