Early next morning, 9th June, 5 am

Harry opens his eyes to find Ruth pressed up against him and whimpering in her sleep. She's also shivering. "Ruth?" he says softly and touches her cheek with the back of his fingers. Her skin is cold and he suddenly realises that she's lying on top of the covers and must be freezing. He sits up and swears when the covers fall away and the cold air wraps itself around his naked torso. Reaching over to the bedside table, he grabs the t-shirt that he'd discarded last night and pulls it on before shaking Ruth's shoulder, saying, "Ruth, wake up. You're freezing."

She opens her eyes slowly and gives him a warm, sleepy smile. "Harry," she breathes.

For a moment, he remains frozen on the spot by the warmth of her gaze. She's pleased to see him and for a few glorious seconds his heart soars. There's no panic, no fear, no regret in her eyes, just pleasure and love, and his emotions in that moment are so intense that he feels tears spring to his eyes. He swallows hard and wipes swiftly at his eyes with his fingers and thumb. Then he feels her shiver again.

"What are you doing on my bed outside the covers, Ruth?" he demands gruffly.

"What?" she replies, suddenly wide awake, and sits up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I must have dozed off. I'll call a cab and go home."

"You will do no such thing. Get under the covers, Ruth. You're going to catch your death."

"No, Harry. I'm fine. I'll-"

"Ruth," he warns as he begins to lose his patience with her. Why does every single thing have to be such a battle with this woman? "I am not about to let you leave this house, this early in the morning, when you're already shivering. It isn't good for you and it certainly isn't good for the baby. Get under the covers." She opens her mouth to protest but before she can say anything he growls, "That's an order, Ruth."

"An order?!" she demands as her eyes flash in indignation, "Harry, you have no right-"

"Oh, for Pete's sake, you stubborn..." He pauses. They stare at each other for a moment as both of their thoughts drift back to the last time Harry had called her stubborn and, almost simultaneously, their gazes soften and the corners of Ruth's mouth begin to twitch.

"Old mule?" she can't resist asking with a mischievous grin.

He sighs. "Ruth, you are by far the most stubborn human being I have ever encountered, and quite frankly, I think that, were you to conduct a proper scientific analysis on the subject, you would find that you are, at the very least, ten times more stubborn than any mule on this earth. Now stop fussing and arguing, woman, and please get under the covers right now!"

Ruth stares at him for a moment, a smile still playing on her lips, and then slides into bed next to him, saying, "Well, at least you remembered the magic word this time, Harry, though, between you and me, you need to work on the tone of your voice when you employ it in your speech."

"Ruth, I swear, if you don't stop quibbling, I'm going to have you disciplined for insubordination," he says in exasperation at he pinches the bridge of his nose and prays for patience. It's too early in the morning for verbal sparing, especially since he's still in bed. On the Grid he can handle it, but here is his space, his domain, his sanctuary, his bloody castle.

"Mmmm," Ruth suddenly grins. "That sounds like fun. Is that something that can be done in bed?"

There's a short silence as Harry recovers from the shock of Ruth being so blatantly provocative and the surprise of finding his body responding quite rapidly to the provocation. He closes his eyes and attempts to calm his breathing, which has suddenly become much shallower. Still reeling from the sudden shift in Ruth's demeanour from argumentative to outrageously flirtatious, he swallows and clears his throat.

"Okay, who the hell are you and what have you done with Ruth Evershed?" he asks in an attempt to diffuse the situation. She chuckles and rubs her hands up and down her arms to warm up. She shivers a little and Harry's gaze softens as concern for her floods his mind once more, pushing aside everything else. He clears his throat again, and throwing caution to the wind, he says tentatively, "You'd warm up quicker if we... er... if we shared body heat."

She looks at him seriously for a moment, watching him squirm under her gaze and wondering how many people could claim to have the power to make the legendary Harry Pearce squirm. Probably less than a handful, she decides before she relents and smiles. "Is this part of the discipline you seem to think necessary?"

He groans and rubs his face with his hands as he takes a couple of deep breaths, before he lowers his hands once more and replies, "Just... shut up and come here." Then without stopping to think about it, he lies down, pulls her into his embrace, and begins to rub her back in gentle, comforting circles. She nestles her face into his neck, resting her head on his arm, and folds her hands and arms between them.

"This is nice," she murmurs, and as they lie cocooned together under the duvet, she hums in satisfaction as his warmth seeps through her and his smell envelopes her. Lying in his arms like this is pure bliss, she decides and is momentarily tempted to seduce him, feeling certain that she'll succeed quite easily this time. However, as the seconds tick by, she becomes aware of just how tired she truly is. She hasn't been sleeping well since Ros died and having Harry's arms around her is making her feel safe, loved, protected, and extremely drowsy all of a sudden.

"Ruth?" he murmurs a few moments later.

"Mmmm?" she replies sleepily.

"Nothing," he answers when he realises that she's almost asleep. "It's nothing. Go to sleep."

She makes a soft humming sound and slowly drifts off to sleep.

Harry holds her close but can't sleep. In fact Ruth's words are bouncing around inside his head and in combination with her physical proximity are making him more and more aroused by the second. Desperately he seeks something, anything to take his mind off Ruth, but all his attempts fail. At least her baby bump is large enough by now to keep their pelvic areas well apart, he thinks as his physical response intensifies. Soon he won't be able to hold back, he realises, and despite the fact that, after her admission last night and her shameless flirting just now, he knows she would welcome his advances, she's obviously exhausted and she needs rest. It occurs to him that she's probably not been sleeping well either over the past few days, and he silently berates himself for not taking better care of her. Then with a pang, he remembers that she isn't his to take care of and he wonders if, now that they have made so much progress and have grown so close, closer than he'd ever dared hope, she'd consider being with him, together, as a couple. Certainly the way she'd taken care of him last night is a strong indication that she would, but he can't be certain unless he talks to her first. Soon, he promises himself, soon he'll ask her and they'll talk.

So with one last attempt at self-control, he begins to extract himself from bed. He almost manages to work his way out without waking her, but at the last moment, she rolls towards him, and with her eyes still closed, she murmurs sleepily, "Stay, Harry. Don't go."

He swallows and replies in a slightly strained, husky voice, "I have to, Ruth. I have to go to work. Go back to sleep."

She whimpers once in protest, but then murmurs, "Okay," and pulls the covers tighter around herself. He smiles down at her, indulging his desire to watch her for a few moments before he turns towards the bathroom. He's almost there when he hears her mumble, "Love you." He freezes, and then as if in slow motion, he slowly turns to face her, but her eyes are closed and she's asleep.

He gazes at her longingly for several moments, fighting his desire to go back to bed, curl up into her warmth, and never leave. "I love you too," he whispers.