Chapter Text
Harry
Eggsy had blossomed into a glorious ballroom dancer.
Since his first day - almost two weeks ago - he had learned the tango, the foxtrot, and had even begun to tackle the Viennese waltz. Harry had experienced the first-hand pleasure of watching a nervous, slightly clumsy street dancer develop into a skilled ballroom dancer in a matter of days.
He suspected that Roxy had been working with Eggsy in the evenings when they weren't in lessons together, as Eggsy seemed to improve tenfold overnight.
Of course, Eggsy's natural talent for dance was evident in the way his body moved, even through missed steps and clumsy motions. When Harry had first taken him to the floor, Eggsy had hardly been able to dance a basic tango box, but by the end of the week he was almost as graceful as the other students, who had been dancing for an awfully long time.
Harry was impressed, if nothing else. And a little concupiscent, but that was irrelevant. Eggsy was far too young for Harry to even be thinking about him in that manner.
"He's quite talented."
Harry nodded absently in agreement with Merlin's comment, too lost in his thoughts to respond verbally. The two of them were sat on a bench in the corner of the main studio, watching the students dance. Eggsy was working with Roxy - a fine pair, not just in physical appearance, but in dance compatibility - and Harry was slightly jealous of the way Roxy was pressed against Eggsy, now dressed in the standard Kingsman leotard.
Harry had - after Merlin's insistence - taken Eggsy to be fitted for a leotard shortly after Eggsy's first lesson ended. They had also picked up some various shoes for Eggsy, including a pair of Oxfords for ballroom, and a decent pair of ballet shoes. It had taken quite literally all of Harry's willpower for him not to stare at Eggsy as he undressed and was measured.
He practically salivated at the visual image of Eggsy, shirtless. Good god, he had a problem.
"Galahad?"
Harry snapped out of his daydream, "For heaven's sake, Merlin, call me Harry. Chester isn't here right now, so you needn't use that godawful nickname."
"I know you'd much rather prefer the name Arthur , Harry, but it doesn't look like Chester is going to bite it anytime soon," Merlin sighed, "You might as well get used to the name Galahad."
"I'm plenty used to it," Harry replied, crossing his legs, "I just dislike it, especially when the students use it."
Merlin cleared his throat at that, his expression changing into an odd one. Harry stared at him.
"What's that face for?"
"Eggsy doesn't seem to like the name, either," Merlin replied, slightly cockily, "He seems rather fond of the nickname Har ."
Harry huffed, "Your point?"
"He's the first student of yours to give you a nickname, as far as I'm aware. And he's the only student you've ever singled out this much."
"I do not single him out."
Merlin laughed, so loudly that Eggsy and Roxy looked up from their dance. Harry met Eggsy's eyes across the floor, and his expression softened so greatly that Harry had to look away from the sweetness in his gaze.
"You absolutely do single him out, the poor boy," Merlin said around lingering chuckles, "You hold quite the torch for him."
"I do not."
"You can keep denying it, Harry," Merlin continued, "But even I can see that you're infatuated with your student. It's quite unprofessional."
"You're hardly one to talk," Harry spat.
"Technically, Roxy isn't my student."
"Don't be so pedantic. It ages you greatly."
They continued to bicker back and forth for a few minutes, then fell silent. Harry felt a great need to defend Eggsy, to persist the point that Harry wasn't interested in him. If he was being entirely truthful with himself, Harry wanted nothing more than to strip Eggsy of his clothing and take him in the middle of the studio.
He really needed to stop thinking about Eggsy in such a sexual context.
"Look at them," Merlin said quietly, breaking Harry out of his brief reverie, "Our two star students."
Harry looked up at Eggsy and Roxy, who were now performing a strange jumbled version of ballet, but with duet elements. Eggsy was almost constantly smiling at Roxy, the two of them caught in a conversation that Harry could not hear. He was dipping her confidently - a move Harry had taught Eggsy not two days prior with little difficulty and far too much arousal - but their conversation continued even as he did so.
Eggsy's talent for ballet was not lost on Harry, and even though he was a ballroom teacher he could appreciate a fine ballet dancer. Roxy was phenomenal at ballet, having been taught personally by Merlin - ballet was not the only thing Merlin had taught Roxy, mind you - but Eggsy practically rivalled her.
They moved together like they had been born to it, their bodies slotting together like puzzle pieces, cliché aside, and they practically flowed from one motion to another, one silently conveying to the other the next move.
"We should enter the two of them in a competition," Merlin hummed, his eyes following the path of the young dancers.
"So soon? Eggsy has hardly begun to learn."
Merlin scoffed, "He can dance, Harry. You don't need to judge him with a fine tooth comb all the time."
"Force of habit," Harry admitted quietly, "Which competition would they dance in? The Dame Du Danse ? Fremont ? Berlin Ballet ?"
"Perhaps Espion Globale ," Merlin suggested, entirely out of the blue.
Harry choked on air, " Espion Globale ?"
It was true that Kingsman had been searching for a duo of dancers to represent them in EG, but Harry hadn't even considered Eggsy and Roxy. They were both incredibly young, and he had no doubt that EG would be filled with adult dancers; dancers who had many more years of experience under their belts than Eggsy and Roxy.
"Why not?" Merlin shrugged, as if gambling Kingsman's reputation in a global dance competition was an everyday occurrence.
"You do realise that they would be competing against Valentine, don't you?"
Merlin nodded, "I think they can take him and his prissy companion. If we enter them now, they'll have a whole week to learn a routine for the qualifiers. We are getting dangerously close to the qualifiers, Harry, and we can't afford to waste more time selecting dancers."
Harry focused on the position of Eggsy's feet for a moment. He was perfectly bracketing Roxy as they danced the tango - the song that was playing wasn't suitable for such a dance, but they somehow made it work - and Harry’s heart swelled shamelessly with pride. Eggsy had improved beyond all expectations, and there was a chance that, with Roxy guiding him through mistakes and nerves, they could get through the qualifiers.
Harry nodded. Merlin stared at him gormlessly.
“Close your mouth, Merlin,” Harry jibed, “You’re not a fish.”
“You nodded.”
“Yes, I did,” Harry agreed, still bobbing his head gently up and down, “Eggsy and Roxy can dance in Espion Globale ,” Harry paused, glanced up at Eggsy’s face and caught the shining gaze of his new star student, and said, with a smile, “I have faith in the boy.”
-
Eggsy
Eggsy had - a bit understandably, he thought - thrown up after Harry had told him and Rox what their first dance competition was going to be. Even Eggsy, who had been off the formal dance radar his whole life, had heard of Espion Globale. Every single person on the planet knew about that competition.
Roxy was sat with her hand on Eggsy’s forehead, holding Eggsy’s gross sweaty hair out of his eyes as he retched into the loo.
“If it’s any consolation,” she said, quietly, “I threw up the night before my first competition.”
Eggsy swallowed, trying not to chuck his guts up again, “Yeah, Rox, but your first competition wasn’t fucking Espion Globale ,” Roxy hummed in agreement and Eggsy continued, “And you’ve been dancing your whole bloody life. I ain’t.”
“You have.”
“Not like this, though. I din’t even know tango ‘til last week.”
“I suppose not,” Roxy replied. She stroked Eggsy’s forehead, smiling down at him as if they’d been friends their whole damn lives, “At least we have a few days to prepare a routine.”
Eggsy laughed instead of vomiting, “A few days. Great!”
Roxy had demanded that they dance to Here Comes The Hotstepper , which Eggsy had heard of, but hated. Eggsy did some digging around YouTube and found a faster, more upbeat remix of the song which matched the style he and Roxy could dance to. Truthfully, Roxy and Eggsy were both best at ballet (according to Merlin) but Harry had suggested contemporary dance to ‘make Eggsy more comfortable’.
It was at times like that Eggsy wished he was married to Harry or something, just so he could snog him for being so fucking sweet.
“I’m still not sure about this song, Eggsy,” Roxy said. She was in her usual leotard and pink ballet shoes - not her pointe ones, which she had actually wanted to wear for some stupid reason - and Eggsy was wearing the same.
He had pink shoes, and he was a fucking manly man.
“We need a quick song,” Eggsy complained, stretching his right leg out on the barre, leaning over his knee and reaching out for his pointed toes, “Why not this one? It’s cool.”
The song in question was blaring through the speakers on a loop so they could get used to it. They already had a routine sorted (thanks to the theoretical help from Harry and the actual help from Merlin) so it was just a question of getting the moves right.
Hell, they worked well together. They were going to smash the qualifiers.
The music started again, and Eggsy moved into the centre of the room. He dropped into the routine, hardly thinking about the movements, just watching his reflection move across the mirrored wall.
Roxy sighed and snapped the thick bands of her leotard against her shoulders. She came to her position beside Eggsy and started dancing just as the chorus played. Their movements ricocheted off one another perfectly. As Roxy’s left leg kicked out, Eggsy’s right did the same. Eggsy performed a shoulder roll on the ground with his left shoulder, and Roxy did exactly the same with her right.
He could feel a gross film of dust gathering on his hands after a few runs of the chorus. This routine had them both on the ground a lot, swapping sides and doing weird gymnastic shit in time with the music.
“So,” Roxy wasn’t even that breathless, damn her to hell, “You seem to be getting along well with Harry.”
Eggsy missed a beat and tripped over his own feet. He cursed and caught himself, hoping Roxy hadn’t noticed.
“I saw that.”
“Shut up,” Eggsy spat, “I’m getting along with you, too, ain’t I?”
Roxy performed a cartwheel and a drop split, hardly reacting to the thud of her heel on the floor even though the sound sent a shiver down Eggsy’s spine. She replied as she rose back to a standing position, “It’s different with me, and you know it.”
“You shouldn’t split so hard,” Eggsy mumbled after performing a static backflip, “You’re gonna break your ankles.”
Roxy huffed, “Eggsy. Ballet is my speciality. I can do a damn split. And stop changing the subject!”
Together, they closed off the dance and, in the brief interlude between the end of the song and the looped beginning of it, Eggsy smiled innocently at Roxy, arms by his sides, “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about. I’m not changing the subject.”
The door to the studio opened with a bang and Charlie walked in, grinning, kitted in his Kingsman leotard and matching black Oxfords. Charlie was a ballroom dancer, like Harry, and he rarely wore ballet shoes.
“What subject?” Charlie asked, happy as anything.
Eggsy dropped his routine and settled with his arms in fifth position, raised up above his head. He flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles, watching Charlie as he stretched against the barre along the mirrored wall. God, he was hot. It was fucking ridiculous how hot Charlie was.
“We were talking about Harry,” Roxy explained, grinning toothily at Eggsy, “Eggsy’s got a crush on him.”
“Rox!” Eggsy yelped, dropping out of his position, “What the fuck?!”
“So it’s true!” Roxy laughed, and Eggsy wanted to throw a damn brick at her. She went to stand beside Charlie next to the mirror, both of them staring at Eggsy.
“I knew you had a thing for him,” Charlie smirked, “You hardly even look at Roxy while Galahad’s in the room, and everyone knows Roxy is the sexiest Kingsman.”
Roxy rolled her eyes, then advanced on Eggsy, pulling him into a reluctant box step, “Charlie’s right. You’ve had your eyes on Harry since the day you started with us. And yes, I am the sexiest Kingsman, as Charlie so rightly said. I just wish you’d told us you were gay, Eggsy!”
Eggsy snorted, “Piss off. I ain’t gay. I like women.”
“And Galahads,” Charlie butted in, earning him a flip of Eggsy’s middle finger.
“ And men. Not… specifically ‘Galahads,’” Eggsy continued, refusing to meet Roxy’s gaze. He wasn’t about to admit to the two gossip twins that he might have a teeny tiny crush on Harry. He wouldn’t live it down. Fuck that; he wouldn’t make it to the end of the week without Harry finding out, “I’m bisexual. So what?”
Charlie, on the edge of the room, held his hands up, “Whoa there, Eggsy. No prejudice here. I'm bisexual, too.”
“And me!” Roxy said in a ridiculously singsong voice, “Look at us! We’re the bisexual bunch!”
“That better not catch on,” Eggsy complained.
Roxy laughed and danced him around the room a few more times, adding fancy little maneuvers to their simple box step. She spun Eggsy out away from her, sending him twirling across the floor right into Charlie’s waiting arms. Eggsy snorted as Charlie picked up the slack, waltzing Eggsy around the room, his shoes clicking wonderfully against the hardwood flooring. Charlie smiled at him the whole time, the proper joy in his eyes making Eggsy smile, too.
“You're good at this waltz crap,” Eggsy mumbled when sweat began to prickle on his brow, “‘M impressed.”
“You should be,” Charlie whispered, pulling Eggsy tighter against him by tugging their joined hands higher up, stretching Eggsy’s abdomen. Eggsy swallowed hard, captivated by Charlie’s gaze. He didn't know if the piercing look he was giving Eggsy was all for show or if he was actually staring into Eggsy’s soul, but either way Eggsy was turned on and faltering every other step.
Boners were hard to hide when you were dressed in a leotard that was basically a second skin. Charlie dipped Eggsy and held him in that low position for a few moments. Eggsy felt like he was going to faint.
“This doesn't look like contemporary dance,” a voice suddenly broke through the lull of the music and Eggsy’s panting breath.
Eggsy looked towards the voice. Aw, fuck. Harry. In his leotard. That wasn't helping Eggsy’s hard-on one bit.
He glanced back up at Charlie, who was still holding him in a dip, and who was still grinning furiously.
“Good morning, Galahad!” Charlie said, cheerfully.
Eggsy’s knees began to shake. Charlie’s hand was very low down on his back, his fingers almost on Eggsy’s arse. He looked up at Harry to distract himself. Harry was staring at Eggsy with his intense burning gaze again, running his eyes along the quivering length of Eggsy’s body, and Eggsy couldn't decide if he wanted to cry or run over and shove him against a wall.
“You're meant to be practicing,” Harry said, dangerously quiet, “And while your form is admirable, Mr Hesketh, you are not involved in this session.”
Charlie spluttered and pulled Eggsy into a standing position, “But--”
“ No .”
Harry’s expression had actually darkened with every passing second and he looked so fucking intense . Charlie followed Harry’s gaze, and when he looked at Eggsy his eyes widened. A knowing smile curved his lips - Eggsy swore silently at that, wishing Charlie a slow death - and he left the room, nodding at Harry.
“I’m going to, er--” Roxy sidled along the side of the room, alternating between staring at Harry and grinning at Eggsy, “I’ll be back in five minutes, Eggsy.”
Eggsy nodded glumly, and set about stretching out his muscles against the barre, trying his best to ignore Harry. He wrapped his left hand around the barre, and turned his hips out to face the mirrors on the opposite wall. Usually, he watched himself, but now he watched Harry. Eggsy extended his right leg out to the side and, holding the outside of his foot with his right hand, he slowly pulled his leg upwards until it was parallel with his body. He glanced over at Harry and waggled his eyebrows, knowing it would drive him up the wall.
Harry made a strange noise and covered it with a cough. Eggsy stifled a laugh, but quickly sobered up when Harry walked towards him.
God. He hadn’t seen Harry up close since the Espion Globale announcement; had been too wrapped up in practice to go to his daily dance lessons. He’d honestly forgotten how insanely hot Harry was.
And, oh, fuck. He was hot .
“You can lift your leg higher,” Harry said, quietly, distracting Eggsy for just a second.
“My form is perfect, mate.”
“I'm not insulting your form, Eggsy,” Harry whispered, his tone low and intimate, disgustingly inappropriate and six kinds of sexy all at once, “I just think that…” Harry’s hand came to rest on Eggsy’s raised calf, gently pushing against the tight muscle there, “With a little help…” Harry’s other hand slid down to the back of Eggsy’s thigh, just above his knee, his palm hot against Eggsy’s skin, and fuck , this wasn't helping how turned on Eggsy was, “You could be a lot more flexible.”
Eggsy stuttered out a breath when Harry pushed against him. Harry pressed his upper body against Eggsy, using the force of his chest to gently maneuver Eggsy’s leg into a different position. They were bare inches apart, and Harry’s hand was sliding further down, down, down, pushing into the meat of his thigh.
“Har--” Eggsy gasped, completely embarrassed at how girly and breathy he sounded, “ Harry .”
“Eggsy?” Harry looked up at Eggsy’s eyes, and Eggsy saw that his pupils were blown, knew that his were, too, and cursed every person on the fucking planet for letting him meet Harry Hart.
The heel of Harry’s hand brushed against Eggsy’s crotch when he moved his hand another inch further down Eggsy’s leg, his touch featherlight but far too much.
Eggsy moaned .
“Eggsy! I'm back!”
Harry flinched and the barely-there pressure on Eggsy disappeared. Harry pulled away, and, after a final heated look at Eggsy, turned to face Roxy - damn her - with a smile plastered on his face - and damn him too. Eggsy, feeling depressingly sober, drunk and high all at once, slowly lowered his leg down to its normal position, eyes on the flushed nape of Harry’s neck and the way Harry’s hands had come to rest folded above his crotch.
At least Eggsy wasn't the only one with the hard-on. Eggsy considered it an effing victory, and turned to face the barre for another stretch with a grin on his face.