Author's Note: This story has taken on a life of its own – in my head, I had envisioned 4, maybe 5 chapters…certainly not 10+! But it's satisfying to be fluffy when right now S10 speculation and spoilers are making me nervous! Won't you feed my addiction for reviews?
The remains of the takeaway covered the coffee table.
"I should clean up."
"Leave it. A few more minutes."
She didn't move from her position on the sofa, but that didn't stop him from taking her hand again, gently rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. He closed the short distance between them and kissed her lips again softly.
He can be very persuasive, she thinks. But he always was, and that no doubt is part of the reason he's so good at his job. She remembers how close she was to saying "yes" when he had proposed on that bright day in the churchyard. Her eyes cloud over at the recollection, and he starts worrying again. For two not very emotionally forthright people, they've spent the last several hours talking, laughing, and crying, slowly unwinding the truth from one another's hearts. Despite this, he's still unsure of himself and she senses this uncharacteristic hesitation and it makes her remorseful.
She pulls her hand away, but before he can misinterpret the action, she kisses him soundly, leaving him with no more doubts. It is some time before they pull apart.
"Harry, I'm sorry…wasted so much time…"
He stills her hands firmly.
"Don't," his voice has an almost angry edge to it. "Don't you dare apologize, Ruth. You're here, we're here now, and that's what matters. If anything, I should be apologizing to you…" She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued,
"I should never have let you get on that bloody boat to begin with…or I could have at least believed you when you had your suspicions about Lucas."
"You felt guilty about what had happened to him, and you trusted him."
"But I should have trusted you more. I suppose I was still hurting…and not acting on your information was a way, however unconscious, of punishing you for refusing me."
"Harry…"
"No. He nearly killed you, because I was petty."
They were silent for awhile, the only sound was the rain continuing to fall outside. She was curled up beside him on his good side, head on his shoulder.
"This is nice," she said.
"Hmm. And I'm not even bleeding on you this time."
He thought that he could never get tired of that smile. It was getting late, and what to do now hovered in both their minds. She got up, and stared to clear the dinner things. Bereft of her warmth beside him, he joined her.
"I'll be just a minute," she said, and with a squeeze of his hand, she was gone. He heard his door open and shut, then a minute later open and shut again. He found her in his front hallway with an overnight bag at her feet, putting away a wet umbrella. At his surprised look, she merely said,
"What kind of spy would I be without a change of clothes at the ready?"
He was silent and she suddenly thought that maybe she had gone too far. The truth of the matter was that he was offering up a prayer of thanksgiving, and if he had been able to in his current condition, he would have scooped her up in his arms and carried her to his bed. Instead, he slowly took her hand and led her upstairs. It wasn't until a few moments later that Ruth began to get nervous again. She always preferred analyzing the situation thoroughly before making any decisions, and now there she was, teeth brushed and pajama-clad, in the doorway of Harry's bedroom, feeling like a ridiculous teenager.
"Ruth?"
He emerged from the bathroom, clad in blue pajama bottoms, the bandage around his torso apparent under a t-shirt. She reflexively noted that he really looked good in blue. They both contemplated the bed before them, and Harry was glad that he had taken the time to make the bed before work all those days ago.
"What side of the bed do you sleep on?"
"What side do you sleep on?"
"I asked you first." He has a twinkle in his eye.
"The middle, to be honest."
"Me too." They are both chuckling now.
After some initial maneuvering, they settle in, her back against his chest and his hand on her hip. His warmth is comfortable, until she suddenly has a prick of conscience.
"I'm not hurting you, am I?"
"I'm fine, Ruth. Don't worry." He pulled her just a little bit closer.
"I can't help but worry about you."
"I know. That's one of the many reasons why I love you."
"Say that again."
"I love you, Ruth. Now get some sleep." He kissed the back of her neck.
"Goodnight, Harry. I love you." She settled a little deeper against him, and they both fell asleep to the sound of the rain on the roof.