Obviously we don't own Harry, Ruth or Spooks (more's the pity), but we're just having some fun with them, so please forgive us!

"Is this some sort of joke?" Harry first eyed the envelope in Ruth's hands with mistrust and then gave the same look to the small group of spooks gathered around her desk.

"Funny, that's exactly what I said," Zaf muttered under his breath, which earned him a glare from Jo.

"It's a gift. Apparently, they all chipped in. Two nights bed and breakfast in The Cotswolds," Ruth explained, a light blush evident on her cheeks, due in part to the gathered crowd and the thought of spending two nights in a guesthouse with Harry.

"It's sort of an apology," Jo ventured, faltering slightly as she saw Harry's eyebrow raise as his curiosity was piqued. "For the gossip, it – we didn't help matters..." She trailed off, aware that she would incriminate them all further if she kept talking. The one thing they had all agreed on was that the book Zaf had run on them would not be mentioned. In fact, that was the only thing about this whole situation that Zaf had agreed to without reservation.

Ruth felt the welcome pressure of Harry's hand on her shoulder as he addressed the group. "Thank you."

Whilst there was genuine gratitude in his tone, there was also an unmistakeable tone of dismissal and the spooks scattered, following Adam off the Grid at his suggestion of drinks.

"Well, that was unexpected," he ventured after they had remained silent for a good few minutes, each lost in their own thoughts about the proposed mini-break.

"Yes," she murmured, concentrating on the pen she was nervously toying with.

"I, erm...," he cursed his sudden inarticulateness, blaming it on the fact that his mind was full of images of them enjoying a dirty weekend. "We don't have to go, if you don't want to."

She smiled at the uncertainty in his voice, pleased to know that he was aware of the shift that their relationship was bound to take if they went away together. They had agreed to take things slowly and had spent the last two months getting to know one another on a personal level as well as a professional one. Their evenings and lazy weekends together had, so far, remained relatively innocent, despite the sexual tension that crackled between them.

"I think we should. Go. Together I mean." She turned to face him and caught the grin on his face. "You needn't look so smug."

--

"I'm glad you saw sense in the end."

Zaf smiled at Jo as she settled next to him and handed him a pint of lager. "I think you owe me more than a pint."

He smirked as she reddened, which turned in to a laugh as she punched his shoulder. "You wish." She sipped her wine and changed the subject, "Why The Cotswolds, anyway?"

He smiled into his pint, taking a drink to stifle the laugh that threatened to erupt as he thought of the happy couple's impending weekend getaway. Composing himself, he told the partial truth. "Travel agent suggested it."

Jo rolled her eyes at him. "Attractive was she?!"

--

"First class, they must be feeling guilty," Harry muttered, as they took their seats in the plush train carriage. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before murmuring suggestively, "Hopefully, our lodgings will be just as good."

"As long as the bathroom is clean and there's a large bed, I'm not bothered." Her eyes widened as she realised how her comment might have sounded, "I-I didn't mean it like that."

He leant closer to her, his shoulder rubbing against hers as he spoke in a low tone. "Shame."

"Harry!" she admonished, blushing despite the pleased smile that claimed her face.

"You know, you're very sexy when you get all shy," he teased, leaning in for a kiss.

"So you keep telling me," she muttered, seconds before his lips pressed lightly but firmly against hers.

The rest of the journey passed by in a blur of increasingly suggestive flirting, so much so that both were rather excited to finally arrive at their destination. Taking her hand firmly in his, Harry led them both through the station and towards the taxi rank, suddenly eager to see where they were staying.

--

A small but buxom woman answered the door, smiling broadly and stuffing a duster and can of polish onto the windowsill so she could extend her hand to the pair of them.

"Welcome, Miss Evershed, Mr Pearce, if you'd like to step inside I'll be taking your bags and showing you to your rooms." Her voice was warm and rich, peppered with long vowels and rolling r's; she was clearly from much deeper into the West Country than this little village on the Gloucester border.

"Er…" Harry began, but her friendly burr interrupted him before he could continue.

"Yes, my duck?"

"Room. There should be one room."

"No, duck. I've got you down as a Miss and a Mr. That'll be two rooms for the pair of you."

Ruth looked faintly amused, and offered a smile to the older lady, partially relieved at the thought. She'd been looking forward to spending the night with Harry and sharing his bed, but there was still hesitation there. Having taken things slowly, it was building to a point where the mystery surrounding each other and what their first time would be like was being blown out of all proportion in her head.

Harry, on the other hand, looked distinctly less amused by the situation, and his face had taken on a beetroot hue as Ruth watched him bite down his blatant instinct to point out that this was the 21st Century and that he'd 'share a bed with who he bloody well liked, thank you very much'.

"Two rooms. Lovely," Ruth replied. "I'll be able to stretch out and not have any one snoring in my ear," she continued, trying to make light of the situation to distract from Harry's glaring.

"Jolly good. This way, if you'll be following me." She extended two stout arms to take each of their weekend bags from them, wrapping her podgy little fingers around the handles and leading the way ahead of Ruth.

"I don't snore," Harry muttered, from the back of the procession.

"Well, I guess I'll have to take your word on that," smirked Ruth.

--

"Can you believe that woman put us in two bedrooms?" Harry muttered, leaning against Ruth's doorframe. He had finished unpacking some fifteen minutes earlier, and yet Ruth still seemed to be arranging toiletries in front of the bathroom mirror, traipsing back and forth from her holdall on the bed. Apparently it really did hold all.

"Harry, keep your voice down, she'll hear."

"You'll have to remind me of that, later," he winked, sneaking behind her as she bent down over her bag to retrieve another mysterious pot of cream. His hands smoothed over her hips and moved down her thighs as she straightened up in front of him, allowing him to place a kiss at the back of her neck.

"Harry, some people have very strict views on this kind of thing. We're a guest in her house and those are her rules, so if you think I'm sneaking off to your room after dark you'll be disappointed."

"We're paying guests."

"We're not the ones paying."

"Must you always follow the rules?"

"If you don't know the answer to that by now, then…"

Her sentence was truncated by his lips against hers, soft but insistent until she parted her mouth beneath the pressure. His tongue dared to taste her before he sucked on her bottom lip.

"Shut up," he muttered, his lips vibrating against the top of her jaw.

"You're not helping," she replied, willing herself not to be taken in by him.

"I know."

"Harry!" She swatted his arm, playfully and stepped backward, trying to calm the blush she knew she was sporting. It was one thing arguing with him over the matter, but quite another if her body's reactions were going to argue to opposite case.

"Dinner?" he asked, in a conciliatory gesture.

"Dinner," she agreed. "And no, no dessert!"

"We'll see," he winked and, grabbing her hand in his left and her handbag in her right, ushered them out of the door.

--

Perhaps it was the large glass of white wine. Perhaps it was the summer fruits brûlée, shared with one spoon. Perhaps it was the walk in the cool, dusk, country air. Perhaps it was strolling hand in hand like teenagers, with no Spooking eyes around to see. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but something was making her giddy and girly and ridiculously overcome all at once and she liked it. She felt at ease – almost – with herself, with Harry, with work and life; something she hadn't felt since she didn't know when.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked, amused by her visibly lifted demeanour. He was used to her being happy around him, but it was rare she was so unguarded.

"I'm just thinking how nice this is."

He stopped walking, forcing her to halt to by virtue of the fact that their hands were entwined. With his free hand, he reached out and brushed the hair from her face, her eyes glittering in the lamp light thrown out from the side of the B&B.

"I love you, Ruth, and although this might have seemed like a mad idea, everyone sending us away, it's pretty perfect." He kissed her, lightly. "And I promise to stop being so petulant about the rooms. I didn't come because I expected something to happen and I don't want you to think that just because I want to share a room with you that that's all I wanted."

"Oh, I…" she sounded disappointed, and recognised the tone in her own voice, just as she knew Harry had, and wasn't sure how to justify that disappointment in light of her earlier rebuttal.

"Not that I'm saying it wouldn't be nice, Ruth," he cut in, sensing her predicament. "Because it would be very…very…nice." His arms had wrapped themselves around her waist and he was aware that he was walking them backwards towards an ivy covered wall. "But you're in the driving seat. It's up to you."

She tilted her head to look at him, knowing the simple gesture would bring his lips crashing to hers, and she wasn't disappointed. He swept inside her parted mouth, clumsily, all tongues and teeth and passion, still stepping them towards the wall until she was pinned in the foliage and their kisses sank into a steady rhythm.

"Kiss me again like that," she murmured, lowly, as she pulled away, "and I shall lose what little conviction I have left."

"And I," he replied, "will be a very happy man."

She sighed, audibly, as his lips met hers again.

"Ten minutes ago, I did think you would be for turning, you know."

"You make it sound like my sexuality was in question."

"No, Miss Evershed, only your integrity."

"Oh you're unbelievable," she admonished, wriggling free from his arms, only to wrap her own around his neck and draw him closer.

Please tell us what you thought of it, good or bad.