Just the antidote to all HR angst that's happening on screen and in fics at the moment - more fluff!

= 6 =

After Adam departs, they find Wes and Scarlet running around the tiny courtyard. Seeing their unbridled energy reminds Harry of his own son at that age, and how the usually quiet, sullen boy seemed to shine when he played with the family dog. He then remembers that he still possesses a relic from that era.

Leaving Ruth to keep watch over boy and canine, he scrummages through the boxes in the spare room until he finds a rugby ball. It is admittedly in a rather sorry state, but a good pump of air soon restores it. He returns to the kitchen to find that Ruth has turned on the oven and arranged the ingredients for making burger patties on the bench: mince, egg, onion, and dried herbs.

Ruth eyes the ball in his hands and remembers that he has interest in rugby. She isn't at all sports-minded, but the image of Harry, running, passing, and tackling the life out of men twice his size, is nevertheless compelling.

"You're not going to play out there, are you?"

He smirks. "Why not? The hedge makes an excellent substitute goal post."

Ruth shakes her head; she doesn't often see Harry in such a mischievous mood, and the twinkle in his eye is captivating.

"I think Adam wanted you to prevent Wes from destroying the house, not for you to encourage it."

"Oh…?" he exclaims, all wide-eyed innocence.

"And you'll have plenty of time to play in the park – after lunch."

He sighs dramatically. "Spoil sport."

"Didn't you want to learn to cook?"

"Yes…"

"Well, today lunch doesn't cook itself, so why don't you call Wes in?"

With a melodramatic hang-dog face, Harry fetches Wes. The boy is at first rather perturbed to be parted from Scarlet, but becomes enthused when he discovers that burger-making involves getting his hands very icky indeed. However before the patties could be made there are onions to chop.

"Harry, would you mind taking care of that? As fine as you can, please."

Since Harry's knife skills are practically non-existent, he is relieved when Ruth demonstrates first. When his turn comes, he takes extra care to cut the onion and not himself. However his slowness works against him; the powerful onion vapours soon take hold and reduce him to tears.

"Bloody h-"

"Uncle Harry, you swore!" cries Wes.

Ruth looks up to see tears streaming down Harry's cheeks. She struggles not to laugh as she says, "Wes, can you fetch the tissue box from the bathroom?"

After Wes leaves the room, she asks, "You okay?"

He nods, wiping his eyes for the first time in years. "Didn't expect those onions to pack such a punch."

"Tears are unavoidable, unfortunately, especially when you have to chop more than one onion. But you're doing well." she tells him smilingly.

He shakes his head. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Here you go, Uncle Harry!" Wes says, holding out the tissue box.

"Thank you, Wes."

Harry takes half-a-dozen and cleans himself up before recommencing. Fortunately, the job is accomplished quicker than he anticipates, and soon Wes is elbow-deep in the beef mince mixture.

"This is better than making mud pies!" he exclaims as Ruth adds a beaten egg, herbs and Worcestershire sauce to the bowl.

"I would think so." she quips. "It shall taste better than a mud pie in any case."

"Yes, mud pies are horrible."

"What, you've eaten one?" asks Harry.

Wes nods. "My friend Damien dared me one time. He said it'd taste like chocolate. It looked like chocolate, but it didn't taste anything like it. And I got a tummy ache that lasted for days."

Ruth and Harry exchange knowing looks. Boys will always be boys.

Next, they all took turns in balling up the mince into patties.

"This is yours, Uncle Harry." says Wes as he puts down a mammoth-sized patty on the baking tray.

"Er, thanks Wes. Why so big?"

"Because Daddy says tiny ones are for girls. A man needs lots of… sus-sus-sten-nance."

Ruth chokes back the laughter before saying, "Am I a girl now, Wes?"

This requires some thought. "I guess not. You're as old as Mummy, aren't you?"

The mention of Fiona takes all the laughter out of her. "Um, roundabouts." she eventually answers.

"Then you can have a big one, too."

After the patties are made it is time for Harry to once again put his flipping skills into practice. He is relieved to find that flipping burgers is even easier than flipping pancakes. It also gives him time to observe his kitchen companions. Wes chats animatedly about his playground achievements as he tears some iceberg lettuce, while Ruth slices some tomatoes and cucumbers, and interjects now and then. Occasionally she gives Harry a little mesmerising smile that renders him speechless. He even manages to forget about his burgers at one time, until an acrid smell fills his nostrils.

"Bugger!"

Wes giggles. "Uncle Harry swore again! Does he always swear this much, Aunty Ruth?"

"Um, not usually." she replies, glaring the beetroot-faced Harry. "But I think we'd better not distract him anymore, otherwise we'll have no lunch."

Without further distractions, Harry did manage not to burn anymore patties, and soon the trio are assembling their burgers. Wes decides on a no-nonsense cheese burger (cheese melted under the grill, and smothered with ketchup). Harry's burger is unusually extravagant – he creates his own version of 'the lot' with cheese, pickles (which Wes disproves of, "It's disgusting"), tomato, lettuce, onion rings, tomato ketchup, and tops it off with a fried egg which he cooks perfectly. Ruth meanwhile decides to forgo the cheese but piles on the salad ingredients for a healthier take. She grins as the two lads devour their creations.

"It's better than Mickey D's." mumbles Wes in-between bites.

"It's been years since my last burger," Harry admits, "But if they're all this good I wouldn't mind having them more often."

Within five minutes they are ready for seconds, but Ruth advises them, "Make sure you leave room for the brownies."

"Brownies? I love brownies." Wes tells her.

"You and me both." says Harry.

"But where are they, Aunty Ruth?"

"We're going to make some." she reveals.

"We? You mean me and Uncle Harry?"

"Yes, the two of you."

Wes looks sceptically at the man. "But I don't know how to make them. Do you know, Uncle Harry?"

Harry can only smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "No, but I know that Aunty Ruth does."

"So you're going to teach us?"

She nods. "You'll get to cook with lots of chocolate. I've made these plenty of times and I always have fun."

"Will they be as good as Nan's?

Ruth laughs. "I haven't tasted your nan's brownies, unfortunately, but I hope these shall be as good."

"Don't worry, Wes." Harry whispers conspiringly, "I've had a taste of Aunty Ruth's brownies before. And if they aren't better then your nan's, then I'm sure they'll come very close indeed."