Disclaimer: Spooks and all it's characters belong to Kudos and the BBC

Author's Note: So here we are with another Winter Warmer. This one's for Kate. See what happens when you give me something like "Oh Shag" to work with? But then again, you like strange...right?! Oh and see if you can spot The Avengers references!!
A big thanks to Em, who took the time to read this weirdness and beta it for me. You're a star!!
And now I'm rambling, so I'll shup up and let you get on with it! Enjoy and please don't forget to leave a review.

A Sense Of Confusion

Music drifted in the air. Sweet, subtle and everywhere, its presence wrapped them in a warm embrace that drowned out the meaningless banter of strangers and enhanced the romantic illusions that they both harboured in their secret hearts.

Sparkling wine flowed as freely as water, though not nearly as intoxicating. The golden bubbles burst against the back of their throats and tickled as they laughed. As she drank her fill, a colour seeped into her cheeks that reminded him of fresh spring roses. He loved the effect the wine had on her, it was charming.

They barely spoke throughout the meal, choosing instead to savour the simple yet elegant cuisine and shared glances above the rims of the crystal glasses.

She looked at him from beneath a line of thick, black lashes. Her shining blue eyes hinted at things that two or more did in the dark on a dare; things that made his pulse race. For a moment, he entertained the thought of what she might have in store for him should the evening be a success. His throat ran dry with anticipation, before he realised where he was and shook his head, forcefully, to rid himself of the image.

Almost as though she had picked up on his train of thought, a devious smile tugged up the corners of her mouth and she slipped a slender foot out of her black satin dress pump. Reaching out beneath the table, she touched her foot to his ankle, her toes making winding patterns over the soft material of his sock. His gaze snapped to hers, faster than a steel trap, when he felt the feather light touch. An eyebrow raised itself in question. Her smile deepened as she moved higher, dragging her foot along the firmness of his calf and the bend of his knee. He exhaled sharply as she drover her toes into the tender flesh of his thigh and his grip on the thin stemmed wine glass tightened to near breaking point.

He glared at the triumphant smile on her face before breaking into one of his own. He shook his head slightly. Women – as sure as any bullet, in whatever shape or form – would undoubtedly be the death of him.

With the parting of heavily pouted lips and a smouldering glance across the table top, a flutter of money hit the polished surface with all the grace of a dying butterfly. He knew how the game was played, cash was harder to trace than credit cards. And then they were gone.

Taking her hand in his, he led her through the labyrinth of tables and out the door; their dark coats blending into the night so that to the untrained eye it looked as though they simply vanished, like black cats taking flight.

Laughter spilled out of her throat as she tripped over a seemingly invisible stone on the pavement and his arms shot around her, holding her steady and close to him. She could feel, rather than see, his eyes on her and she smiled, nervously, under the weight of it. She caught his hand between hers and tugged him in the direction she wanted to go in, her hushed voice whispering the words of endearment that she thought he wanted to hear.

As she rushed on ahead, occasionally throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure he was following, he couldn't help but watch the way her hips swayed as she walked. The way the almost lacy red material of her dress clung to her thighs. In the back of his mind, he knew there was something he should be doing, his whole reason for leaving the safety of his office…but looking at her, he'd be damned if he could remember. She was too tempting for words, like the mythological sirens that lured unsuspecting sailors to their deaths on the rocks, and just as dangerous.

It was a quiet night, with only the distant murmur of late night traffic and the wet slaps of their soles on the pavement to grace their ears. He glanced around, taking in his environment. To a passer-by he would have looked no different from any other pedestrian checking the road before stepping out onto it, but with every quick sweep he clocked several cars license plates – from a brand new Lexus to a white delivery van parked opposite – to make sure no one was there who shouldn't be. He almost smiled to himself. Old habits didn't die, they just lay in wait.

He met her on the steps of the hotel, with her back pressed against the railings and her bottom lip caught between her teeth. A pale peach hue fell across her face from an overhanging light, making her eyes seem bluer, darker, almost hypnotic. He took a step towards her and took her in his arms, his gloved hands running up and down the length of her arms as though he were trying to keep out the cold. She angled her face towards his, seeking his mouth with half parted lips.

He caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her back so that he could look at her. The familiar scent of vanilla assaulted his senses and, for a moment he smiled, remembering when he had first woken to find that scent clinging to his pillow.

"I had a good time tonight," he said as he drew the pad of his thumb lightly across the fullness of her lips.

She dropped her gaze and smiled coyly at him. "It doesn't have to end here," she said, reaching out to straighten his tie. Her fingers smoothed out an imaginary wrinkle in the grey silk. "You could always come up."

"Emma…"

The name rolled clumsily off of his tongue and the force of it hit him like a velvet slap.

She looked up at the sound of his voice and met his gaze instantly. Looking into those orbs of intense honey, she felt the air catch in the back of her throat. There weren't many men she knew, if any, that had such beautiful eyes. The kind of eyes that could be cold and warm at the same time, soft but also hard. She couldn't help but wonder how his eyes would look during moments of ecstasy.

He started again but quickly shut his mouth. His eyes widened with the realisation that he had been tempted to say 'yes'. With just a look from her icy blue eyes and a toss of her hair, he had wanted to embrace her and not to let go until the first light of dawn broke the sky. A numbness settled within his chest that had nothing to do with the cool night air.

He had been involved in hundreds of honey traps over the years, all of them successful. His role of "the seducer" was set in stone and not once had he ever been tempted by a target. Not until this woman stood before him. Petite, brunette, with icy blue eyes and the same softly spoken tone of voice and for a brief moment their roles reversed. The seducer had become the seduced.

He exhaled sharply and brushed a stray lock of hair back off of her face, as he had done so many times before with the woman who could have been her twin. His fingers lingered within her hair, winding them through the chocolate strands, and he marvelled at how warm it was.

"Oh Emma, I can't."

She nodded, a tense smile tugging up the corners of her mouth. "I suppose you've got a wife and kids to get home to," she said. Although she tried to keep her tone light, she couldn't stop her bottom lip from trembling with disappointment.

He had a sudden urge to trap that lip with his and, before he could stop himself, he lowered his face to hers.

It was a gentle kiss, a mere brush of lips that grew to near bruising force. She cupped his face between her hands, warming them against his skin, and pressed herself against the line of his body. He parted her yielding lips with several quick, wet flicks of his tongue and licked the roof of her mouth until she groaned, low in her throat.

He pulled away, untangling himself from her mouth and her body, and took a step back. "I'm so sorry," he told her.

She smiled; a slow spread of lips that hinted at the pain of rejection. "Maybe some other time." And just like that, she was gone.

Harry slumped against the iron railings and watched the heavy doors swing shut behind her. Something in the middle of his chest loosened and he wasn't sure if it was relief or disappointment, but he silently hoped for the former.

"Oh shag."

He couldn't excuse himself for it; the enjoyment he felt during their kiss; the thrill of something different. Nor did he want to. It was during that moment of weakness that he realised he was hopelessly and desperately in love with her, and always would be.

There was a crackle in his ear a moment before he heard Adam's unusually cheery voice. "Looks like she's got you flustered Harry." He could tell by the wobble in his voice that he was grinning like an idiot.

He glared in the direction of the white obo van and thrust in hands into his pockets. "Oh do shut up Adam and tell me if the tracker's working."

"The signal's fine, she hasn't seemed to notice it. Good work."

"I've had a lot of practice," he said absently and started the walk back to his car.

"So I noticed."

Harry paused at his door and looked across the road at the white van. He was pretty sure Adam was able to pick up his glare on the CCTV cameras. "Goodnight Adam," he growled with as much strength as he could muster. "Let me know if anything turns up, won't you?"

"Sure, you get off home. I'll let you know if she gets lonely."

Cursing the younger man under his breath, Harry threw himself into the seat, his head resting against the cool leather. He reached up a gloved hand and removed the ear piece. The small piece of plastic sat in his hand somewhat accusingly. He considered tossing it out of the window, leaving it for the pigeons to deal with in the morning, but, with a sigh he decided, it would be a useless waste of resources. He didn't fancy explaining to Juliet why the section's budget had to stretch to yet more un-necessary equipment.

He tossed the ear piece into the glove box and, with a quick glance at the road, he turned the key and waited for the familiar roar of the engine.

x x x

He leant against the door frame, shifting his shoulder until he found a comfortable position against the polished wood. He had stopped off on the way home, hoping that a token of his affection would alleviate some of the guilt he still felt and knowing that it probably wouldn't. A red carnation sat idly in his hand; the silken petals tickled the tips of his fingers as he toyed with him absently. His attention, as well as his heart, was focused on the far side of the room.

She was sprawled across the sofa, a blanket tossed haphazardly over her, a hand pressed against her cheek. Her hair fanned out around her face; dark chocolate over the pale cream of the pillow. Her eyes fluttered beneath leaden lashes and there was a peaceful expression on her face that only hinted at the contents of her dreams.

It was a selfish though, but he hoped that she dreamt of him.

He loved to watch her as she slept. When the weight of the world couldn't touch her and her already devastating beauty was tainted by a naïve charm that wasn't often found in their line of work. It was those moments he savoured more than any other because it was something that couldn't be taught. It was just her.

He walked further into the room, ignoring Fidget's cries of irritation as he perched on the edge of the sofa and roused him from his slumber. A small smile tugged up the corners of his mouth as he leant over her sleeping form. He gently nudged her nose with his and he caught the almost edible scent of perfume. Vanilla, but there was something beneath it, something that Emma's simple fragrance had lacked. A cool, mild scent that was unmistakably her.

He touched his lips to hers. The feel of them – soft and warm, like satin rubbing against his mouth – erased any lingering memory of his earlier encounter.

She stirred under his touch and a soft sound escaped her throat as she licked her lips. Thick, black lashes fluttered open and, for one shining moment, he was able to look into her blue, blue eyes when they were at their most pure; their most vulnerable. And they were stunning.

Recognition flashed across her face, chasing away the remnants of sleep, and a lazy smile graced her mouth. "Hey."

"Hello beautiful," he said, stroking the silken skin of her cheek.

She leant into his hand and sighed contentedly at his warmth. "So was it as bad as you thought?" She asked, watching his eyes closely, silently asking him to tell her the most intimate details of his night. "And was she pretty?"

"Worse," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "And she was…she was beautiful."

She nodded, a small smile playing at the edge of her lips. She appreciated his honesty. Her eyes slipped from his face to the flower in his hand and she raised an eyebrow.

With a small flourish, he raised the red carnation to her face so that she could breathe in its fresh fragrance. She closed her eyes as the velvety softness of petals brushed against her half parted lips. He smiled at the breathy sound she made, low in her throat.

He traced the bend of her jaw with the flower's head, and down over the paleness of her throat. She swallowed under its gentle caress. He reached the top of her shirt, where purple cotton parted to reveal yet more creamy skin, and allowed it to dip below the neck line, rubbing against her until her breath caught in her throat.

Removing it from the confines of her shirt, he frowned when he saw that a few of the petals had been lost, and touched it to her buttons. He dragged the red flower along the line of white discs until the purple turned to brown velvet and then pressed the carnation into the hand that lay against her hip.

He glanced up at her face to see her cheeks slightly flushed, desire shining deep within her stormy blue eyes: a desire that he was sure matched his own. When he spoke his voice was breathy, barely above a whisper. "But she wasn't you."