Disclaimer 1: Spooks belongs to Kudos and the BBC but I'm hoping they'll lend me Harry for a while. :P
Disclaimer 2: The title's not mine either but is derived from the tagline of one of my all-time favourite advertising campaigns.
A/N: I hadn't intended to write a Valentine's fic but then I was inspired by a remark I heard on the radio. Set mid-late series 4. Light, fluffy and not much in the way of plot but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Friday
"What are you up to?"
Zaf jumped at the sound of Adam's voice. "Er, nothing," he replied, desperately clicking with the mouse to try and hide what he was viewing on his computer but without success.
"Tut tut, Zafar," Adam said, leaning over his colleague's shoulder. "Does Malcolm know you've borrowed his new toys?"
"Of course. He said it would be fine for me to familiarise myself with the new technology," the younger man responded, confidently.
"Yeah, right," the blond snorted. "So which of our colleagues are you harassing today?" He peered at the text scrolling across the screen, his eyes widening as he read it. "Mate, you are going to be in so much trouble when Harry finds out."
"Shhh!" Zaf exclaimed, hurriedly looking in the direction of their boss's office. "He won't find out, will he?"
"You're hoping he won't," Adam commented, grinning, "but it'll be a first. You know he finds out about everything in the end."
:::::::
Ruth studied her reflection in the mirror and sighed. She looked tired and pale and she was certain it wasn't just the harsh lighting in the Ladies emphasising it.
"You OK?" Jo enquired, standing next to her colleague.
"Yes, yes, I am," the brunette replied, unwilling to share her insecurities with her younger colleague.
"Got any plans for the weekend?"
"Oh, just the usual," Ruth stated, vaguely.
"Oo, so something nice for Sunday then?" Jo asked, smiling brightly.
"Er, Sunday?"
"Valentine's Day. Come on, Ruth, don't be shy."
Bugger, Ruth thought. She'd forgotten about Valentine's Day, or rather, she'd been deliberately blocking it out. Although it had been no easy task given the outbreak of pink, red and purple hearts everywhere.
"Ah, well…I…er…it's…" she flapped, desperately trying to think up a way of changing the subject.
"Oh, I see," Jo whispered, conspiratorially, "you want to keep it quiet. I understand, Ruth. You don't want everyone gossiping about it. So," she continued, "who did the asking in the end? You or Harry?"
"What?" Ruth shrieked. "No! No, there's nothing going-"
"Come on, Ruth. You don't really think no one's noticed you and Harry sharing looks? It's so obvious the pair of you fancy the pants off each other."
Seeing the mortified expression on her colleague's face, Jo attempted to reassure her. "I think it's sweet, really, I do. You and Harry are perfect for each other."
"Jo, please," Ruth begged, more embarrassed than she'd been in a long time.
"No, listen to me. I'm not making fun of you or trying to upset you. When you were away on that training course last month, Harry missed you. He turned into a right old grump."
"Did he?" Ruth questioned, faintly. "But I was only gone four days."
"Irrefutable proof, I'd say," Jo replied, triumphantly, placing an arm around her friend's shoulders. She'd been about to add that things had got so bad, Adam and Zaf had contemplated putting knock-out drops in Harry's coffee, bundling him into a car and driving him to the hotel where Ruth's course was being held and leaving him in her room. Then she decided sharing that piece of information probably wouldn't help.
"Why don't you ask him out?" the blonde suggested, giving Ruth a gentle hug. "I bet he'd say yes. And Valentine's Day…ideal opportunity. How could he resist?"
"I-I can't," Ruth responded, forlornly.
"Yes you can," Jo encouraged. "Imagine it, you and Harry, a nice restaurant, good food, a bottle or two of wine…the ideal Valentine's."
"Actually," Ruth said, quietly, "I'd be perfectly happy with a box of chocolates and a cuddle."
:::::::
The persistent ringing of Zaf's phone eventually penetrated Harry's thought process. He looked up to see an empty Grid and briefly wondered where all his staff had disappeared to. Muttering under his breath, he stabbed at the keypad of his own telephone until he finally got the correct combination of numbers allowing him to intercept the call. After noting down the information Zaf had requested, he was forced to spend several minutes placating the caller, a rather haughty individual. Yes, he agreed, it was unfair for one of his officers to demand information urgently and then not be available to receive it, however, they were extremely busy. His suggestion that perhaps it could have been emailed as 'even the PRO have email these days' was met with the frosty response of 'we're The National Archives now' and the termination of the call.
"Don't know why they had to change the name," Harry grumbled to himself as he wandered out of his office, piece of paper in hand, "I don't understand what was wrong with being called the Public Records Office."
He was about to place the message he'd taken in the centre of Zaf's computer screen when something caught his eye. "What the…" he gasped, staring incredulously at the monitor.
:::::::
For the second time in an hour Zaf was startled by one of his colleagues unexpectedly leaning over his shoulder.
"Zafar, a word please," Harry said, using a tone of voice that indicated it was a command, not a request. "Now," he added, before heading towards his office.
"Uh-oh, you're in trouble," Adam remarked, gleefully.
"What makes you say that?" Zaf replied, reluctant to admit that his colleague was probably right.
"He called you 'Zafar'."
"He nearly always calls me that…oh…"
"Point proven."
Zaf trailed slowly across the Grid and into Harry's office. He hovered by the desk, unsure if he should sit down.
"Zafar," Harry began. "What did you think of those new surveillance devices Malcolm showed us this morning?"
"I think they'll be very useful," Zaf replied, wondering exactly where Harry was intending to take the conversation.
"Yes, they should. Small, discreet, easy to place, hard to spot."
"Um, yes. Ideal really."
"And the auto-transcription feature," Harry said, leaning back in his seat. "Saves time, and resources. Just imagine, Zafar, you plant a device, set-up the software with the trigger word, and leave it to the tedious job of monitoring any conversation. So instead of hours spent in a cramped surveillance van, you can go home, or out for dinner, safe in the knowledge that if your suspect utters the magic word, you get a text message to tell you."
"It'll be very useful," Zaf responded, realising his boss was nowhere near as much of a Luddite as he made out.
"Handy little devices. It could be tempting to use them for less than legitimate purposes, couldn't it?"
Zaf's heart sank. Not only was Harry more technically savvy than any of them gave him credit for, he also really did know everything that was going on.
"You wouldn't be tempted though, would you, Zafar?" Harry asked, looking the younger man directly in the eye. "To bug our female colleagues, for example, in order to find out what they talk about in their…more relaxed moments."
"God no, Harry. I wouldn't dream of it," Zaf exclaimed, hoping he'd injected just the right amount of indignation into his denial.
"Glad to hear it."
Harry's gaze dropped to the reports on his desk and Zaf took this as his cue to make his escape. He got as far as the door.
"Make sure Malcolm gets the bugs back. Today, otherwise you will be spending all your spare time providing whatever assistance the lovely Debra Langham desires."
Zaf gulped, muttered 'of course, Harry,' and hurried back to his desk.
Sunday - Valentine's Day
Ruth sat back on her heels and pushed an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. Cleaning out the kitchen cupboards certainly wasn't her idea of the perfect way to spend a Sunday, let alone Valentine's Day, but it had seemed like an ideal distraction from thoughts of love, romance and a certain man. Only it wasn't working. Her mind was still filled with the same images of her and Harry in decidedly non-work related scenarios that had caused her to wake early.
It was her own fault, she thought, as she wrung out the cleaning cloth in the bucket of soapy water. Jo was right; she should be bold and invite Harry for a drink or dinner. The problem was, having a conversation with Harry about anything other than work reduced her to a babbling wreck most of the time. She doubted very much that she would be able to remain coherent enough for him to understand she was asking him out.
At a loss as to how she could overcome her paralysing nervousness around Harry, Ruth turned her attention back to the cupboards, hoping inspiration might strike amongst the soap suds.
:::
Harry parked the car and switched off the engine. He looked at the box on the passenger seat and wondered, for the hundredth time, if he was doing the right thing. He doubted Ruth would believe the old 'I was just passing and thought I'd pop in and say hello' story, which was all he'd been able to come up with as a reason for calling on her. And then there were the chocolates… He pondered what her reaction might be if he said 'Oh these? I just happened to have them with me,' as if it was perfectly normal for him to carry around large boxes of luxury Belgian chocolates. She'd think he was a complete lunatic.
There was no option. He would have to be brave, and honest. Given the information Zaf's illicit surveillance operation had yielded, it was clear she felt something for him. It wasn't as if he was walking in there completely blind.
Feeling slightly more assured, Harry checked the inside pocket of his jacket to make certain he had her card, which he hoped she'd like. It was a reproduction of a watercolour painting of Bodiam Castle at dawn, mist rising from the moat. It's ethereal beauty had caught his eye, making it stand out amongst the brash Valentine's cards, whose cloying sentimentality or blatant suggestiveness were not suitable for the message he wanted to convey to Ruth.
Harry pressed the doorbell for a third time. He was starting to feel rather self-conscious and a little foolish. Surely she wasn't still in bed? Although she might be, especially if she'd found a good reason to stay there; a young, fit, handsome reason… He banished the thought. There was a perfectly sensible explanation, he was sure. She was probably in the garden or at the shops. Not wrapped up in the arms of a man who wasn't him engaging in-
The front door was forcefully yanked open and Harry was greeted by the sight of Ruth, pink-cheeked and with a light sheen of perspiration on her face. For a moment, Harry thought he'd correctly guessed that she had been occupied with a man but then the rest of her appearance registered with him. She was wearing a pair of dark grey jogging bottoms, a rather tight, pale grey T-shirt and rubber gloves. So, he concluded, she must be doing housework. Unless…
"Harry!" she exclaimed, mercifully cutting off his errant train of thought. "W-what are you…? Is something wrong?"
"No, everything's fine," he replied, smiling warmly at her.
"So…?" she prompted when he didn't say anything else.
"So?"
"Why are you here? Not that it isn't lovely to see you," she gabbled.
"I was…I thought I'd…" He paused. "I wanted to see you."
"Oh…" Ruth's already flushed face went a deeper shade of red. "Er, that's nice…" She cursed inwardly at her ineloquence. It was a lot more than nice.
"Can I come in?" Harry asked, wondering if Ruth was intending to keep him standing on the doorstep indefinitely.
"Of course, sorry, sorry. Come in."
She stood back to allow him into the hallway and closed the front door. They stood looking at each other for a few moments until Ruth suggested they go into the kitchen.
"Would you like a coffee?" she offered, struggling to remove her gloves. "Although I've only got instant."
"That's fine."
She filled the kettle and switched it on. When she turned around again, she found Harry looking at her, intently.
Feeling a little unnerved, she waved a hand vaguely towards one of the wall cupboards and stuttered, "th-the coffee and th-the cups are in there. I'm just going to...um…" and rushed out of the kitchen.
When she returned a few minutes later, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a jumper. She'd also unclipped her hair, and it hung loosely, framing her face.
"You look lovely," Harry remarked, "although I quite liked the sweat pants and the rubber gloves. Not to mention that T-shirt…"
Ruth blushed. "Harry!"
He laughed. "I'm only teasing. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
"I suppose not," she muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"Here." He handed her a mug of coffee. "Milk, no sugar. That's right isn't it?"
She nodded.
As she sipped at her drink, something on the kitchen table caught her attention. "What are these?" she questioned, pointing at the box and the white envelope sitting on the wooden surface.
"Looks like a box of chocolates and a card to me," Harry replied, sounding far more nonchalant than he felt. "Why don't you have a look and see?"
Placing her coffee to one side, Ruth picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. Her fingers trembled as she removed the card.
She looked up at him and smiled. "It's gorgeous, Harry. Really beautiful."
She opened the card and read the inscription:
Ruth,
Sometimes, it is possible to have the things you want.
Love,
Harry xx
Harry watched her, his pulse racing, as her eyes traced over the words he'd carefully inscribed. He'd kept the message simple but it was heartfelt, and he hoped she'd understand.
She looked at him again, eyes glistening. "We want the same things?"
"Yes," he replied, moving closer to her. "I believe we do."
She nodded, slowly.
"For instance," he continued, "I believe that for Valentine's Day, you would be perfectly happy to get a box of chocolates and a cuddle."
She stared at him, open-mouthed. "How do you know that?"
"I know everything, Ruth."
She tilted her head to one side and pouted. "Jo told you. I can't believe she blabbed."
"No she didn't."
"Then how? The only way you could have found out is… You bugged me! You used one of Malcolm's new listening devices, didn't you? I knew there was something going on when he said they'd been 'temporarily mislaid'!" Ruth shook her head at him. "Harry Pearce, you are a very naughty boy."
"Yes, I am," he replied, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against him. "But in a good way. And I didn't bug you."
Ruth looked at him, doubtfully. "Really?"
"Really."
She was quiet for a moment. "It was Zaf, wasn't it? The cheeky little…"
Harry laughed. "Don't worry. He'll be paying for his sins. I've promised him to Debra Langham. I told her she could do with him whatever her heart desires."
"Now that is naughty," Ruth admonished, "poor Zaf."
"He'll get over it," Harry replied, unrepentantly. "Anyway, going back to heart's desires… I believe a cuddle was on your list."
"So it was," Ruth replied, hooking her arms around his neck. "And there are some other things as well. But you know that, don't you?"
"Yes I do," Harry breathed, his lips millimetres from hers. "I shall prove it to you."
And he did.
The End
Thanks for reading. :) Your thoughts and comments are always appreciated.