Thank you again for the lovely comments. You lot make checking my emails much more fun than normal ;)

It was another hour before Steven Glass took his leave of the Home Office Christmas Party. Ruth and Harry had been reluctantly mingling with some of the other guests, both of them attempting to make a glass of wine last as long as possible and casting frequent longing glances at the bar.

Oddly, Ruth had found herself having fun once the business portion of the evening had been done away with. Harry had hardly moved away from her, clearly intent on keeping up appearances after he'd cut in on her and Glass on the dance floor. She wasn't complaining, although she thought she probably shouldn't be enjoying it quite so much.

At least, she thought, genuinely having a good time would make the whole thing look more authentic. Hopefully.

At any rate, she was glad to see the back of Steven Glass. She watched as he shook the Home Secretary's hand – Towers clearly having no idea who the man was – and then said goodbye to his entry pass: Mike Sherborne. Just before he reached the door, he turned back and appeared to be looking for someone in the crowd.

His eyes found her and he waved. Ruth waved back, aware of Harry glowering beside her. Clearly noticing Harry looking daggers in his direction, Steven Glass left in a hurry.

"You know, I've never really liked gin," Ruth remarked halfway through her second G&T.

Harry regarded his own glass suspiciously. "Neither have I, but this is going down quite well."

"Well, it is Christmas."

"That's true."

"And we're sort of off-duty now."

"Also true."

"I hope everything's going okay back at the Grid."

"I'm sure it is." Harry sounded as though he really couldn't care less.

'It is,' Dimitri cut in over the comms.

"Eavesdropper." Ruth tried to sound indignant but she didn't think she quite pulled it off.

'Sorry. Risk of the job.'

"If we go AWOL, is that going to scupper you at all?" The way Harry spoke, it sounded as though Dimitri didn't have a whole lot of choice in the matter.

'I dunno. Do we have your permission to liaise with Special Branch in the event of needing to arrest the cock?'

"Yes."

'Then feel free to go offline.'

"Excellent." Harry didn't even bother signing off, he just discreetly pulled out his earpiece and put it in his pocket.

Ruth followed suit, slipping hers into the tiny, pointless handbag that went with her dress. Then, just because she could, she drank some more gin. "I hope this doesn't translate into a hangover tomorrow."

"If it does, we'll get the others to take the lead. We can call it part of their professional development training."

"Maybe I'll have a chat to my young mentees and let them do all the talking."

"Good idea."

"I'm starting to get a good insight into what the upper echelons of the service do with their time."

"Worrying, isn't it?" Harry reached over and pushed Ruth's glass back up to her face. "Drink that. It'll help."

She nodded, sinking the rest of her drink and then watching as Harry did the same, the slice of lemon in his glass sliding out to hit him on the nose. "Classy."

"This is why politicians tend to stop inviting me to their parties after a while."

"I'm surprised Towers hasn't learnt yet." Even as she said it, Ruth was suddenly very aware of the Home Secretary watching them from a few metres away. He was chatting to some of his staff, seemingly intent on the conversation, but his eyes kept flicking to Harry and Ruth's little table. He didn't look very approving of their small collection of empty glasses.

Harry noticed him, too. "I think he might just have realised." The man was probably worried about the security of his state secrets, what with Harry's previous form for giving them up.

"Oops."

He leaned in and nudged her shoulder. "Shall we go and continue this somewhere we're less likely to be judged harshly for consuming all the alcohol?"

She should probably say no, but, well… it was Christmas. And it sounded fun. "I think so. Where did you have in mind?"

-0-

"This was a very good idea."

"I thought so." Harry eased himself down onto the floor, shuffling awkwardly as he leant back against his sofa.

Ruth pushed a plate towards him and then they both sat surveying the collection of food that was spread over the coffee table. She wasn't entirely sure how they had ended up on Harry's living room floor with a Chinese takeaway and glasses of wine, but she was certainly having fun. She drank some wine and then tucked into her plate of food.

"Sorry I don't have any gin," Harry said around a mouthful of spring roll, his tone teasing.

"It's probably just as well. And this wine is lovely."

He smiled. "I've been saving it for a special occasion."

She turned with the intention of berating him for opening his nice wine just for this – an impromptu late night meal served on the coffee table – but the softness of his gaze made her pause. This was a special occasion. Him and her, sharing a meal in the dim light of his living room, free from obligation for a short space of time. She returned his smile.

"At the risk of sounding like an arse," he went on, breaking the nice moment in their tried and tested fashion, "I have to ask. Are you drunk?"

It was a valid question. "At the risk of sounding like an alcoholic, no I'm not. Happy, maybe, but not because I'm drunk. Are you?"

"No. Enjoying myself, yes. But as you say, that's nothing to do with the booze."

She held his gaze and felt something shift in the air. "I thought it went well tonight." It turned out that even on special occasions, she still couldn't let go enough just to see what might happen if she let it.

Harry didn't seem surprised by the conversation shift. "Yes, it did. Our friend Mr Glass was very taken with you."

"I highly doubt it."

"Did you not see his face?"

"Hmm, not really. His face was approximately five metres above mine, of course. It made looking at him a bit awkward."

"Ha, true. Well, trust me. The man was smitten."

If she didn't know any better, she'd say that Harry sounded slightly jealous. She felt the need to reassure him, even though he blatantly knew there was nothing to be reassured about. Ruth covered his hand with hers and squeezed lightly, quickly, before pulling away again and going back to her food, knowing Harry would understand her meaning.

They continued to eat in silence, both of them aware of a warm glow that had absolutely nothing to do with the food or alcohol.

Half an hour later, they were both full and relaxed – although ever so slightly uncomfortable on the floor.

"I always forget I'm getting on a bit," Harry remarked as his knee cracked while he was stacking the plates. "Getting down's okay, but getting back up again can be a challenge."

Ruth stood relatively easily – a benefit of her comparative youth, she supposed – and held out a hand to pull Harry up. He took it and let her tug him to his feet, the detritus of their meal abandoned on the table.

"I've just remembered something," he said softly, his eyes liquid in the dim light.

"What's that?"

"We never had that dance."

"We danced earlier." Maybe he was losing his memory as well as his ability to get up from the floor… That would be unfortunate. Dancing with him at the party earlier, making sarcastic comments about the guests and keeping up the pretence of being a couple for the benefit of Steven Glass, was a memory she was sure she'd have with her until she was old and grey.

He smiled his little enigmatic smile and stepped closer to her, his hand still lightly encasing hers. "But that wasn't the last dance, was it? I told you to save the last dance for me."

She wasn't entirely sure how to respond. "That's true, you did."

"So, right now, we need to have that dance."

"Do you have music?"

Harry walked over to his stereo and pressed a few buttons before something classical and lilting filled the air. "Not strictly dancing music, but…"

"It's perfect." She stepped over to him and automatically slipped her hand back into his. When his arm found its way around her waist, she laid her other hand on his shoulder, feeling the play of muscle beneath his shirt and enjoying the warmth of him. "You're such a nice height."

He smiled and, unlike with Steven Glass, she didn't have to crane her neck to see it. "Thank you," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "And do thank Josie for choosing that dress, won't you?"

"You like her fashion sense?"

"I like that dress on you."

Ruth may not have been drunk, but even the simplest of compliments from Harry could still make her feel lightheaded. "Thanks."

He ran his hand over the back of her dress, the fabric rippling slightly under his palm. "Thank you for coming with me tonight."

She bit down the urge to say that she had just been doing her job; she knew that wasn't what he meant. "That's okay. But are we just going to spend the entire night thanking each other for things?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Harry seemed to take it seriously. "Well, what would you rather do?" He was looking at her intently.

None of the things she could think of sounded adequate – that, or they went miles past adequate and into 'definitely too brazen' territory.

"Ruth? Any thoughts?"

"I don't know." She gripped his hand a little tighter. "Let's just keep dancing."

Thanks, as always, for reading my ramblings :)

Well, once again this was supposed to be the last chapter, but now it's not. Or, at least, it might not be. One more to go, if you like. Essentially, it's public vote time – declare this the end or have another chapter of (probably) mostly fluff? I'm away for a few days now (without proper internet access, boo), but should be able to get the last bit done pretty soon if you'd like it. Let me know! Cheers, m'dears ;)