Wednesday, September 5th, 1984 - Harry's House
"Good morning, my sleeping beauty," Harry murmurs as he sits down on the bed next to Ruth and pushes her hair away from her face gently.
"Mmmm," she grumbles and turns away from him in protest.
Harry chuckles and says, "Come on. We have a paint job to finish before lunch." She continues to ignore him so he rubs her back gently and adds, "I've brought you breakfast."
Ruth slowly opens her eyes, and rolling onto her back, she rubs them sleepily. "What time is it?" she asks.
"It's nine," he smiles.
Surprised and suspecting he's teasing her, Ruth glances at the clock. "So it is," she murmurs in disbelief. The last time she'd slept in so late on a weekday, she was at university.
"Feeling better?" he asks. "You were exhausted last night."
"Much, thank you," she smiles and sits up, letting him place the tray across her lap. "This looks delicious," she says and begins to eat while Harry sips his tea.
"Ruth?" he says after a bit.
"Yes?" she replies between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.
"Are you really going to stay here with me?" he asks quietly.
She looks up at him and can see the underlying anxiety in his eyes. "If you still want me too, I will," she murmurs. He looks relieved, and looking down at her hands, she adds, "I have to say that I had my doubts before, but it's been surprisingly easy to live with you these past few weeks, and I'm no longer worried. In fact, after almost losing you like that, I feel that I want to take advantage of every moment we can have together, and I know that we wouldn't be doing that if we lived apart; too much time would be lost in travelling back and forth."
He smiles and nods in agreement, "I'm glad. We should sort out the details of our cohabitation. You must have more things than what fits in that small suitcase you arrived with."
"Yes," she smiles. "They're at my mother's."
"Well," he replies, "perhaps you'd like to bring them here. I could help."
"And meet my mother?" Ruth teases. "You might regret that offer later."
"You forget, Ruth," he grins. "I'm trained in counter-interrogation techniques."
"So you are," she smiles. "It'll be quite a nice change to have a boyfriend who's not intimidated by my mum." Harry leans over and kisses her firmly on the lips. "What was that for?" she asks.
"It's the first time you've called me your boyfriend," he grins. "Admittedly, it makes me feel about fifteen, but it's a nice feeling none the less."
"Okay," she laughs. "How about partner? Any better?"
He kisses her again, and pulling back slightly, murmurs, "Both are wonderful to hear."
Ruth clears her throat and whispers, "Good," before she succumbs to the temptation, and leaning forward, kisses him back. Their lips part and their tongues venture out to meet and dance together, and for a few moments, they lose themselves in each other and the feelings and emotions running through them. When they pull apart, they're breathing heavily and can see the desire in each other's eyes.
"No," Ruth shakes her head emphatically.
"Why not?" he asks and gives her his best pout.
"We won't finish Graham's room in time," she states firmly even as she feels her resolve weakening at the way he's looking at her. "It needs time to dry."
With a sigh, Harry nods. Then brightening up a little, he says, "What about while the paint's dying?"
"Bloody hell, Harry!" she exclaims. "You're insatiable!"
Harry laughs and murmurs, "But, Ruth, be honest now. Would you really want me to be a once a week man, or heaven forbid, a once a month man?"
"No," she admits with a little half-smile as she shakes her head at him. "I wouldn't."
"There you go then," he smiles. "Right. I'm going to paint." He gets up, and at the door, he turns and adds with a wink, "The sooner we get started, the sooner we'll be done." Her laughter follows him out of the room, making him smile.
"I have a lot of books," Ruth volunteers a little apprehensively as they put the finishing touches on Graham's room together.
Harry stops and turns to look at her, saying seriously, "Oh, no! Well, in that case, I'm afraid the deal's off. Go pack your things; I'm taking you to a hotel."
Ruth smiles and waves her paintbrush at him as she threatens, "Hey! Watch it or I'll redecorate your t-shirt next."
Harry shrugs, and refusing to take the bate, he adds, "Don't worry, Ruth. We'll find a place for all your things, and if they don't fit, I'll get rid of mine to make room for them. I only need you. Nothing else matters to me."
Ruth is speechless for a moment, then she shakes her head in disbelief as she murmurs, "You say the sweetest, most romantic things, Harry."
"Do I?" he asks. "I only say what I feel. I cannot even bear to think of living in this house without you now. Losing the children was bad enough, but if I lose you, I think I might have to sell the place." He smiles at her and continues, "So whatever you need is yours. If you need your own space, we can convert the guest room into a study for you. If you need more space for your books, we can buy more bookcases, or throw out all of mine to make room for yours." He takes her hands in his and looks at her earnestly, "Anything you need, I will do for you. Anything."
She nods and whispers, "You're too good to me; I don't deserve you."
"Nonsense," he scoffs and kisses her cheek.
"What about you?" she asks. "What can I do for you?" He tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at her. "Except for that!" she exclaims in exasperation, but her eyes twinkle at him in pleasure.
"Ah, well, in that case," Harry grins, "you can start by moving into my room if it's not too much to ask. I hate having you disappear across the hall every morning."
"Okay," she nods. "I can do that. Anything else?"
"Not really," he shrugs.
"What about housework, cooking, shopping, taking care of the dog," she says counting the things off on her fingers as she mentions them, "washing up, laundry-"
"What about them?" Harry interrupts.
"Well," Ruth frowns at him, "we should come up with a fair division of labour. Obviously you can't do much now, but you'll recover soon, and I would rather we work out some kind of a schedule or something so we don't end up in an argument over it later."
"Can't we just do those things when we think of them?" Harry smiles, amused by how seriously she's taking it.
"No," Ruth replies. "I tried that once and it doesn't work. One person always ends up doing most to the work and then resents it."
"Really, when was that?" Harry frowns, suddenly feeling a little jealous despite the fact that he knows it's unreasonable.
"Feeling a little jealous, are we?" Ruth murmurs.
Harry says nothing, but his frown turns into a scowl, and dipping his brush into the paint, he turns towards the wall again.
Ruth watches him for a moment and can't help smiling as she sees him struggle to deal with his emotions. Then she relents, and picking up her own brush, she dips it in the paint and returns to her task as she says, "As I was saying, Maria and I worked out a schedule for doing the housework, but we could just split the tasks down the middle if you prefer."
Harry stops painting and turns to her, watching the smile tug at her lips. "Just for that, Ruth," he says in a low, dangerous voice, "I get first choice and the right to choose what we do while the paint's drying."
When she turns towards him, his hazel eyes are dark and intense, and she's a little alarmed by the danger she sees lurking in their depths. It's the first time she's seen such a look in his eyes directed at her, and despite the fact that she knows he would never harm her, it still sends her heart rate shooting up and her brain into overdrive from the sudden adrenaline rush. She swallows and almost squeaks, "Okay."
His eyes hold hers hostage for a moment longer before he softens his gaze and murmurs, "Cooking."
"Cooking?" she asks momentarily forgetting what they've been discussing. "All right, I'll take laundry, and how about we share the washing up?"
"Fine. Walking the dog."
"Shopping."
"Vacuuming."
"Dusting."
"Dusting?" he asks incredulously. "I never dust, Ruth."
"That explains a lot, Harry," she grins.
"The house doesn't need dusting, Ruth. I'm not accepting that. Pick something else."
"I suppose you'll tell me next that you don't iron your clothes either."
"Don't be daft. But we each iron our own clothes."
"All right, feeding Aella."
"Which leaves, what?"
"Um... cleaning the bathrooms and kitchen?" she suggests.
"We alternate weeks."
"Fine."
"Good," he grins. "Now, it looks to me as if we're done here."
"I think we are," Ruth smiles as she looks around at their work. "We did an excellent job. I think he'll love it."
"He will," Harry nods. "Right. Let's clean up and let the paint dry while we do something even more enjoyable together."