"What are you looking so grumpy about?" she asks as they walk towards his car, her hand resting in the crook of his elbow.
"You should have let me pay, Ruth," he grumbles, his lips forming an adorable pout as he frowns down at her.
"Harry," she smiles, "it's your birthday and I invited you out for a meal to celebrate. It's my treat."
"But you already gave me a present," he objects, still looking a little cross.
"Did I?" she asks, enjoying teasing him a little.
"Yes," he nods, "or are you telling me that the four bottles of thirteen-year-old malt I found hidden in the top drawer of my desk with the letters R-U-T-H on them were from someone else?"
"They could be," she agrees. "They might stand for something. R-U-T-H. Let me see... How about 'you are humbly truthful'?" He frowns and pouts harder, so she shakes her head, saying, "You're right – unlikely. 'You are horribly timid?' - no. 'Hopelessly taciturn?' - not really. How about, 'Tragically hairless?'"
"Ruth!" he objects crossly, coming to a standstill and turning to face her as she too stops walking.
"What?" she grins, enjoying herself far too much to stop now. "No, wait!" she exclaims. "I have it. It's 'you are torturingly handsome' or maybe just 'too hot'. Yes, too hot sounds just about right. You're definitely too hot to be allowed."
"Is that so?" he growls, taking a step closer to her, his eyes intense and hungry.
"Yes," she whispers breathlessly. "Scorching, in fact."
"Then this should scar you for life," he retorts and kisses her passionately and very thoroughly, leaving her dazed and trembling with need when he eventually pulls back.
"Wow," she whispers, pulling him to her for another kiss. He obliges most willingly and soon they find themselves snogging their hearts out against the side wall of a shop just inside the alley he's somehow managed to skilfully manoeuvre them into, and it's only the sound of laughter coming from across the street that brings them back to reality and an awareness of their surroundings.
"God, Ruth," he breathes as he pulls back, his hand closing around her wrist and tugging her hand away from his groin. "You're going to get us arrested."
"No one can see us here," she objects, trying to pull him back for another kiss. She's feeling bold and so very turned on that she could shag him right here, right now, against this very wall.
"It's not worth the risk," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against her cheek before pulling back completely. "I'm head of section, Ruth, not some low-level agent. Can you imagine the fall out if the head of counter-terrorism was arrested for public indecency?"
She sighs, beginning to see sense and not liking it at all. "You're right," she nods, moving away from the wall and smoothing down her dress as they take the few steps needed to get back into the street. "It's not worth the risk," she sighs, lifting her eyes to his.
"No," he agrees, moving closer again and leaning forward, his left hand finding her waist as he whispers in her ear, "and besides, it'll be so much more comfortable and enjoyable in my bed... not to mention my enormous bathtub."
"Mmmm," she hums, resting her right hand on his chest and smiling up at him as he pulls back smirking, "I'd forgotten about your bath."
"I can't stop thinking about what I'd do to you if I had you in it, Ruth," he confesses lowly, his gaze blazing with desire. "Every time I enter my bathroom, all I see is you in Fred's bath. You have no idea how much I wanted you then, how hard it was not to succumb to my... need for you despite how tired I was from swimming-"
"And drowning," she interjects, dropping her gaze and shuddering at the recollection. "I dream about it all the time, you know," she confesses quietly. "You were so cold and still and eerily pale in the light from the storm. I thought you were... gone and I felt..." She swallows and feels tears spring to her eyes at the memory.
"I'm fine, Ruth," he murmurs, pulling her into his arms. "Look." He lifts her face towards his and smiles down at her. "See? I'm warm and alive," he adds, cupping her cheek. She nods and smiles at him, feeling her heart lighten as the pain and fear relinquish their grip on it and she relaxes against him, wrapping her arms around him and feeling his lips press against her forehead. It's getting faster, she realises with relief, her ability to shed the panic, the pain, and the fear after a nightmare or flashback. Perhaps she can beat this thing after all, she thinks, for the first time feeling her heart flood with real hope and relief.
She stands wrapped in his arms for a few moments appreciating his warmth and support, but then she feels him stiffen and hears him murmur, "Come on, Ruth. Let's get us home."
"Why? What's wrong?" she asks, pulling back to look at his face. He's no longer smiling, instead looking serious and focused like he does on the Grid, but when she turns to follow his gaze, she sees nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to alarm her or him. The street seems to be quite empty aside from the line of parked cars, the group of young people who'd been walking along the pavement, laughing, on the other side of the road when they'd emerged from the alley having turning onto the main road now. Perhaps he's remembered something too, she thinks as she allows him to take her hand in his and begins to walk beside him towards his car, feeling the excitement at the prospect of what is to come tonight flooding her body.
Note: The present of four bottles of whisky is mentioned in Harry's Diary.