salute [h.s]

chapter 21 - dangerous decisions & apoplectic arguments

On Monday, Harry took her to work and spent the entire day hovering. He tried to act like he wasn't, attempting to let her believe that his sudden appearances wherever she was were just happenstance, but she knew better. Sometimes she'd get that feeling on the back of her neck that she was being watched, that cold shiver that set her on edge and left her frantically searching for dangers around each corner. She'd glance up just in time to catch a glimpse of Harry as he walked away. He came to have lunch with her. And then came to have tea with her. And then came to drive her home. And then stayed the night.

Usually, this would have been great. Piper loved spending time with Harry, even if it was just them chatting over tea about this or that. She loved his voice and watching him talk, the strange expressions he made and the way he used his hands without realizing it. He had a tendency of reaching across the table and ghosting his fingers over hers before finally interlocking them. When she accidentally forgot the tea bag and over-steeped, he switched cups without being asked, drinking her bitter tea while she drank his, always the perfect consistency.

There was a limit, however, to Piper's patience and by Wednesday, when Harry's obsessive supervision had not waned, she was at the end of her rope. She felt like she couldn't get any work done because she was waiting for him to pop up and disrupt her. It got to the point where even seeing his face was annoying her — which she never thought would happen. Ever.

She needed some space to breathe and Harry wasn't giving it to her.

The explosion had been building since the paintball match on Saturday until the trigger finally caught on Wednesday evening. When Harry appeared at her side while she was on her way back to T branch after what could possibly have been the most important meeting of her career, discussing her field agent status with Agent Lahiri and the higher ups, she felt a wave of impatience flood over her. Her fists were tightening at her side unconsciously and her steps, rather than fluid, became stilted and rushed.

Before Harry could say a single word in an attempt to try and weave a tale about why he was there, she snapped, "I'm not in the mood, Harry."

"What do you mean?" She looked over and narrowed her eyes at his innocent expression, the slightly confused scrunch of his brow and the little pout that usually drove her crazy. She could tell by the look of his eyes that it was feigned and he knew exactly what was ticking her off. That only made her more frustrated.

She stopped in the hallway, Harry jerking to a halt at her side, and rounded to face him. Hands on hips, cold stare, solid frown — she hoped she looked a little bit intimidating. Judging by Harry's poor attempt at hiding his stupid grin, it wasn't working.

"You need to back off," she told him firmly.

"Piper —"

"No, Harry, I'm serious. I've had just about enough of you following me around and getting in my way at work. I want it to stop."

"Can we have this discussion later?" He looked up and down the hallway, at the agents passing by who were giving them sideways glances. By now, it was no secret that they were an item — the MI6 gossip mill was one of the worst and with the way Harry had been practically living in T branch Piper was sure that there was enough evidence that there could be no doubt. Wayward glances found them in the hall, trying to pick up the next scoop to pass around. Harry obviously didn't want that — Piper didn't care.

"You're smothering me. I need some space."

Harry's hand curled around her elbow and he yanked her down a side hall that led to the filing rooms where he thought they were less likely to be overheard. His hands came down on her shoulders, holding her at arms length, and he tilted his head toward her. "Piper, when I say we're having the discussion later, that means not now."