Later that evening
"So Ruth," Zaf asks with a mischievous grin. "I've always wondered... What's Harry like away from work?"
She's been expecting something like this ever since they'd all arrived at the George, but though she's been mentally preparing herself to deal with it and has drunk her way though a least a couple of G&Ts in an effort to help herself relax, she's still unprepared for the question when it comes. She stares at him for a few seconds in mild panic before stalling a little by taking another sip of her drink, trying to work out what to say.
The whole point of joining the rest of the team here this evening had been to get this kind of thing over and done with. After she'd left Harry's office today with the empty tea things and carried them through to the kitchen, she'd almost bumped into Zaf, who'd been on his way out with a steaming mug of tea, and who, like Adam, had also stolen a biscuit – the last one – after remarking teasingly, "No fair, Ruth. How come you never share the fancy biscuits with the rest of us?" She'd blushed as he'd winked at her and slid past her onto the Grid, and that's when she'd realised that they're not going to stop until they've had a chance to tease her a little and that, perhaps, it's better for everyone if she just bites the bullet and brings her relationship with Harry out into the open, on the Grid at least. You never know, she'd told herself, perhaps it'll even make her feel less anxious at work too – because at this point it was unlikely to make it any worse – and it would certainly show Harry that he doesn't have to worry about her bolting again.
So when, later that afternoon, Zaf had invited her to join them all at the George, she'd accepted, knowing that Harry had a meeting with the DG tonight and wouldn't be available till later anyway. Zaf had seemed pleased and Harry surprised when she'd mentioned her plans for this evening, but she'd seen the pleasure infuse his gaze when she'd suggested he pick her up there, when he was free, and they go home together. The whole thing had been worth it for that look alone.
She'd thought she might die from the anxiety as the hour of their departure had approached and she'd almost chickened out, but Fiona had been the one to collect her from her desk and walk with her arm-in-arm to the pub, so she'd been able to avoid a panic attack and reach their destination relatively unscathed. In fact, Fiona's presence beside her has worked wonders in helping her relax – with a lot of help from the G&Ts – and has successfully kept Zaf's mischievous streak in check until now, when the three pints he's downed and the sudden lull in the conversation have proved too much of a temptation to resist.
"Boorish and irascible, Zaf," Fiona says sarcastically now, intervening so she doesn't have to answer. "What do you think he's like?"
"I don't know, do I?" he replies defensively. "He's not an easy man to read. If you told me Adam's all gooey and lovey-dovey, I could believe that, but Harry's another matter entirely."
"What's that about me?" Adam asks, taking the seat on the other side of Fiona that he'd vacated a few minutes ago to visit the gents'.
"You're all mushy and sweet," Zaf replies, giving him a cheeky grin.
"Thanks," Adam smiles, lifting his pint and taking a large gulp.
"I was asking Ruth what Harry's like, seeing as I can't picture him as mushy or sweet," Zaf adds, looking a little disappointed that Adam didn't react to his provocation. "Can you?"
Adam looks thoughtful for a moment before he replies, "Yeah, actually, I can." Then at Zaf's disbelieving look, he adds, "What? Harry's a multi-layered, multifaceted man and I wouldn't put anything past him." And as the two of them continue arguing good naturedly about Harry's finer and less than stellar qualities, she feels herself relax like never before, finally realising that her colleagues here, these sometimes wonderful, sometimes irritating and exasperating people, really care. They care about her, they care about Harry, and they care about them together, as a couple. They're happy about it.
She looks from one to the other, Adam to Zaf, Fiona to Malcolm and Colin, and can't help smiling. Then feeling suddenly brave, she states, "Actually, he's..." She pauses, looking for the right word as everyone stops speaking and turns to look at her, and she can feel all their eyes on her though she's looking down at her glass that's cradled in her hands. "Lovely," she finishes with a sigh as a picture of Harry, wonderful Harry, swims to the forefront of her mind.
There's silence for long moments after that, the tone of her voice more than her words conveying to them the depth of her feelings for Harry, until it's broken by Zaf saying in a light-hearted tone of voice, "Nah, I don't buy it. Harry? Lovely? Please."
Everyone laughs at that and she can't help smiling and looking up at his cheeky face, suddenly feeling grateful for his teasing nature and the fact that the ice is finally broken. After that, the light teasing and ribbing she's subjected to doesn't bother her much any more, and she even finds herself giving as good as she gets. By the time she receives Harry's text letting her know that he's done and asking where to meet her, she's feeling relaxed and happy, so she tells him to come find her here, inside the pub. Whether he's surprised by this or not, she doesn't know as his reply is a simple OK.
She thinks she's the first to spy him when he arrives a good twenty minutes later. She smiles at him and prepares to get up, as the seats on both sides of her are taken, when she feels Malcolm's hand on her right forearm and hears him murmur, "Stay. I'll get another chair." Then she watches as he vacates the seat to her right, nods at Harry in greeting and moves over to another table to ask to borrow a chair.
"Hello," she smiles up at Harry as he stops beside her. "How was the meeting?"
"Good," he nods, "Productive for a change." Everyone else notices his presence now and he's greeted with a chorus of hello Harry's to which he replies with a nod of acknowledgement. "I'll just get a drink," he murmurs when he eventually returns his eyes to hers.
"No need," she smiles, lifting the glass of whisky towards him. "I've got you one already."
"Thanks," he says softly as he takes it from her hand, brushing his fingers against hers in a gentle caress and making her heart beat faster at the contact. He takes a sip while she watches him and pulls out the chair Malcolm's vacated for him, taking a seat beside her. The conversation at their table has started up again, but she's sure their every move is being closely watched by all their colleagues in spite of their apparent disinterest. Despite this, however, she finds she can't keep her eyes off him, watching as his gaze sweeps over the group quickly before settling on hers once more. "All right?" he murmurs, his expression unreadable.
"Fine," she nods, reaching for his thigh under the table and resting her hand there. He doesn't react for a moment, though she feels the muscles tense below her fingertips and she thinks she detects surprise flit through his gaze for a second before it's gone. Then he casually leans back in his seat and drops his left hand to his lap, covering hers and squeezing it gently as he looks past her towards Adam, who's regaling the group with one of his many anecdotes. He's being so cautious and careful so as not to draw attention to them and make her feel uncomfortable that she feels a surge of love for him and a strong desire to thank him for all that he does for her. Impulsively, she leans forward and plants a soft kiss on his cheek, watching his eyes dart back to meet hers as she pulls back, the surprise and pleasure in his gaze clear for all to see. "I missed you," she whispers, feeling her cheeks flush.
He smiles and his eyes soften as they gaze at each other, everyone else forgotten for a few precious moments until Zaf makes their presence know by sighing, "Okay. I guess I believe you now."
The stillness that's settled over the group becomes apparent then, Adam's anecdote forgotten, abandoned in the middle as they all stare at them, some more subtly than others. She feels her blush deepen and drops her gaze to her drink, her sudden confidence evaporating in an instant. "Whom do you believe and what about, Mr. Younis?" Harry's voice cuts through the background chatter of the pub and there is an edge to it that causes all eyes in the group to turn to him.
She sees Zaf swallow and glance at Adam who gives him a you're-on-your-own-mate look while Fiona looks on with a delighted smile and Colin looks a little alarmed. Malcolm's the only one wearing a passive expression though his eyebrows are arched with interest, waiting to see what will happen. "Err..." Zaf stammers, "Nothing. Nothing, Harry." Harry, with long practised ease and experience, simply continues to stare at him until eventually he volunteers, "It was harmless really, just a little... um... playful teasing, you know?"
"Go on," Harry encourages though his piercing gaze belies the lightness of his voice.
"Well," Zaf murmurs, glancing around at everyone again for support and finding none, "we were... er... Ruth was saying how... er..."
"Lovely," she provides helpfully, really enjoying watching Zaf squirm, and squeezing Harry's hand reassuringly under the table and smiling at him when he glances at her. She wants him to know that she doesn't mind any of this.
"Yes... er... lovely," Zaf stammers, "you are, and having never seen you... er... display any such... inclination, I wasn't sure I believed her, so..." He tails off here and gives Harry a helpless look before adding, "I'm sorry, Harry."
"For what?" Harry asks, his face still serious as he squeezes her hand reassuringly.
"For... um..." Zaf begins again, utterly lost for a few moments, "doubting you? And... er... not believing Ruth?"
Harry stares at him for a few moments in silence before he says, "In future, Zafar, I suggest you refrain from expressing an opinion on the character of any of your colleagues. Just because you have the emotional range of a pancake, it does not follow that everyone else does also." Then ignoring the laughter that's erupted around him at the expense of poor Zaf, he lifts his glass and swallows the rest of his whisky before squeezing her hand again and turning towards her. "Shall we?" he asks.
She nods her agreement and gets up, allowing him to help her on with her coat and waving goodnight to everyone before she lets him take her hand again and guide her out of the pub and into the cold night. "Pancake," she laughs, once they make it outside and he turns towards her. "That was brilliant, Harry. The look on his face was priceless."
He grins, murmuring, "It'll take some time for him to live that down. I foresee a lot of jokes about pancakes in his near future."
She smiles up at him and lifts herself up on her toes to kiss him, and when she pulls back, there's an adoring looking in his eyes and a soft smile on his lips, mirroring her own. "It's chilly tonight," he murmurs after a bit, seeing her shiver from the cold. "We'd best get moving. Where to, Ruth?"
"Anywhere warm," she replies, rubbing her hands together to warm them up.
"Here," he says, pulling his left glove off and slipping it onto her cold hand, frowning as he asks, "Where are your gloves, Ruth?"
"At home," she smiles. It's so nice to have him worry about her and take care of her like this that she finds herself thinking that she should try to forget her gloves more often.
"Fat lot of good they're doing there," he replies, taking her right hand in his left one and slipping them both into his coat pocket. "Right," he says, beginning to walk briskly towards Thames house. "I have the perfect solution for this winter chill – a bathtub big enough for the both of us."