Chapter Text
“This knife can save your life,” the stranger grinned, a manic gleam in his eye.
The wind kicked up then, a low rumble running through the ground as Eggsy turned his head to see a light in the distance. The train blared, its light glowing brighter with each passing second. Eggsy struggled against his restraints, choking out a “Fuck!”
“My employer’s got two questions for you, Eggsy,” the man loomed over him, “what the fuck is Kingsman? And who’s Harry Hart?”
Eggsy writhed, stricken with panic. “I don’t know who the fuck that is!”
---
From the alcove where he hid in wait, just out of sight of his recumbent candidate, Harry smirked.
“There’s a lad,” Merlin said through the glasses comms, “looks like your candidate and Percival’s will be battling it out.”
“Hush, Merlin,” Harry murmured, watching the feed of Eggsy in the corner of his glasses as the boy squirmed against his restraints. “Don’t let Arthur hear you.”
“ Chester excused himself when Eggsy woke up,” Merlin said in a low voice, and Harry could almost see the look of distaste on the tech wizard’s face. “ Probably couldn’t bear to watch him succeed yet again. ”
Harry laughed through his nose at that. Merlin would never admit it, but it was plain to see he had his favourites. Not that he would let that interfere with the testing, of course.
“ Ten seconds to trapdoor activation,” Merlin said, businesslike. Harry turned his attention back to his candidate.
“Shit!” Eggsy yelled, wriggling desperately.
“Aw, Eggsy, I just killed two of your friends that gave me the same bullshit answer!” Richard spat, clearly enjoying himself. Always one for the theatrics.
“Fuck! Just cut the fucking ropes, please!” Eggsy cried out. He could feel the tracks vibrating as the train approached, the wind rushing ever louder in his ears.
“Hey, Eggsy! Is Kingsman worth dying for?”
The train was five seconds away. Harry could see his face clenched, utterly defiant and incredibly loyal; a swell of pride filled Harry’s chest as prepared to swap places with Richard.
“Any last words, Eggsy?”
“ Standby, activating trapdoor now-”
“Fuck – Harry!” Eggsy’s shout drowned out Merlin over the comms, eyes still screwed up tight. “I fucking love you!”
---
Eggsy was, if anything, a tad disappointed to realise the honeypot mission was just a red herring. He could have done with some meaningless seduction. And he’d been doing fairly well, he thought - better than the others, at any rate - and winning over the bird “in the biblical sense” would have been a welcome distraction from his own… predicament. It wasn’t that Eggsy didn’t like girls. He was more than fond of them. But he was also a little too fond of someone in particular, and that someone definitely wasn’t a girl.
Harry Hart, the fit posh bloke who waltzed in and upturned his life by offering him the opportunity of a lifetime; Harry Hart, the fit posh bloke who was simultaneously frightening and utterly captivating (if Eggsy was honest with himself) a little - no - incredibly arousing; Harry Hart was very much Eggsy’s current predicament .
Well, okay, Eggsy’s current predicament was the fact that he was tied to a railway track, his death approaching just a little too quickly in the form of a massive fucking train , and he can’t even remember the last words he said to his mum. To his sister. To Ryan and Jamal. His last words to Roxy, Merlin, Andrew the tailor. To Harry.
“Hey, Eggsy! Is Kingsman worth dying for?”
Except all Eggsy heard was, Is Harry worth dying for?
His predicament. Harry, the man who bludgeoned a pub full of idiots in front of him; Harry, the man who’d almost gotten himself killed but - to Eggsy’s overwhelming relief - woken from his coma, looking spritely and thoroughly unruffled by the whole incident; Harry fucking Hart, the spy, the predicament, the man Eggsy was currently arse-over-tit besotted with.
And Eggsy’s immediate thought, of course, was yes.
Yes, Harry Hart was definitely worth dying for.
The train rolled impossibly closer, the light blinding Eggsy; he braced himself for the unthinkable pain, fists clenched, eyes closed tight. He tried to picture his mum, and Daisy, smiling happily and being all that was good and innocent in the world. He pictured Harry, too, suave and enchanting, smiling at him in the mirror, pride in his gaze as he congratulated him on his progress in the trials-
“Any last words, Eggsy?”
The train was close, too fucking close. Eggsy felt his adrenaline levels spike higher than ever before, the blood rushing in his ears, and Harry, in his stupid posh red robe and Kingsman-issued slippers, proud and confident and awfully handsome, was all Eggsy could see behind his eyelids.
He cursed involuntarily, and shouted Harry’s name and probably - definitely - more, but he could only feel and not hear himself cry out as the train bore down on him, the screaming metal utterly deafening.
Eggsy felt like he was falling for a sharp second, which he figured must have been the moment of death. The thundering of the train and the blood rushing in his ears had overpowered his senses, so that explained why he couldn’t feel his limbs being torn asunder. And it was dark - could he still open his eyes?
Did he even have eyes anymore?
Hang about. It wasn’t so dark, suddenly. And was the overwhelming roar of the train getting more distant, or had he just perished and lost the ability to hear? He thought he could feel his entire body being lifted heavenwards, and yes, this must be it, no fucking way did he survive getting squashed by a train.
A mechanic whir and a snick alerted him to the fact that his ears still worked. He also realised he was still squeezing his eyes shut, and, scarcely daring to believe it, slowly reopened them. His heart - his beating heart? - pounded as he took in the vision of Harry standing at his feet, standing in the same position as his captor had been seconds before; Harry was staring, no, positively gawking at him, and Eggsy figured he’d died and gone to heaven because Harry Hart would never have such a slack-jawed expression on his face. Or maybe he’d suffered massive brain trauma and was hallucinating.
As he took in his surroundings, Eggsy paled, realisation flooding in. This certainly wasn’t the afterlife. Oh no.
Oh no.
Of course. It was a test.
It was a fucking test, and he’d screamed Harry’s name - and then some - at the top of his fucking lungs just when he thought he was going to die.
Harry stood agape, knife in hand, his face a mishmash of pride and befuddlement as he stared down at Eggsy. Eggsy returned the stare, heat rising into his face. Time stood still as they gazed at each other, the magnitude of what Eggsy knows he said weighing down on them both.
Eggsy found himself wishing he had been crushed by the screaming locomotive instead.
“Galahad?” Merlin buzzed through the comms. “I don’t suppose you want to... free the boy?”
Harry only met this with silence. Merlin intervened over the loudspeaker, “Congratulations, Eggsy. Well done on completing another test.”
Eggsy started at that, looking around hastily for the source of the voice, then shook his head. He met Harry’s eyes again. The man’s look of bewilderment had been replaced with the cool, gentlemanly exterior Eggsy first encountered outside Holborn station.
“Yes, bloody well done,” Harry said finally, sounding as composed as ever.
Eggsy beamed at him; Harry’s steely facade was making him uneasy, but he felt a surge of confidence and relief at knowing he’d made it through to the next round. “So…” Eggsy began, his grin turning cheeky, “Are you gonna stand around all day, or are you gonna free me?”
Harry inhaled sharply, his fist clenching imperceptibly tighter around the knife in his hand, but he made no other move towards Eggsy.
“Yes, Galahad will untie you and bring you back to the control room, Eggsy,” Merlin supplied, a tad impatiently. Then through the glasses comms he hissed, “Harry, I don’t think I want to know what’s going on, but Chester’s on his way back. Get a fucking move on.”
Harry did as he was told without another word, slicing primly at the ropes restraining Eggsy’s wrists and ankles. He ignored the surge of warmth that travelled up his arm as he helped Eggsy to his feet, barely hearing his muttered “...thanks”. As the boy brushed himself off, Harry made a ‘Follow me’ gesture, turning on his heel, pointedly avoiding his gaze. Eggsy shoved his hands in his pockets and trailed after Harry, utterly unsure of what to say.
Part of him was positively jumping for joy at having passed another trial; a bigger, much more bothersome part of him was shitting bricks at the prospect of looking Harry in the eye ever again.
Eggsy followed Harry back to the alcove where he had been hiding to reveal a passageway and stairs. Harry took them two at a time, as if being chased; Eggsy stared after him for a moment before jogging hurriedly behind him.
They reached the control room in time to see Merlin watching his wall screen a little too intently, where the image of Richard tying Charlie’s unconscious body to the tracks was showing. Behind him stood Roxy and who he presumed was the Kingsman agent that proposed her. Roxy greeted Eggsy with a knowing grin, and the little blood left in Eggsy’s face completely drained away as he realised everyone in this room had been watching him. Everyone in this room had heard him.
Harry strode across to Merlin’s right, leaving Eggsy rooted to the spot. The agent standing beside Roxy approached him then.
“Alastair,” he offered, hand held out, and Eggsy shook it clumsily. “Codename Percival. My congratulations to you, young man.”
“Thank you, sir,” Eggsy heard himself reply. Percival nodded, a wry smile hinting at the corner of his mouth, and he returned to his position standing next to Roxy.
Eggsy managed to take a few steps toward Merlin’s terminal to watch the action more closely. Harry caught his eye as he approached, but looked away swiftly as Richard’s voice came through the terminal’s comms link.
“Candidate is stirring, standby,” Richard intoned, his normal voice taking Eggsy by surprise. The man had done a convincing job of being a crazed interrogator just moments before. Eggsy replayed the test in his head, reddening as he remembered exactly what he’d screamed in what he thought were his last few seconds on Earth.
Charlie woke up then and squawked, “What in bloody fuck is this?”
His embarrassing confession forgotten for the moment, Eggsy watched Charlie’s test, shifting from foot to foot, his jittery thumbs twiddling back and forth. His unease subsided, however, as Charlie let out a very shrill shriek at the sight of the train. Eggsy couldn't help but bark out a laugh as he watched him writhe pathetically on the tracks, blurting out Chester’s identity in a panicked plea for his life.
At Charlie’s feeble admission a growl came through Chester's glasses link, and forgetting himself for a moment, Eggsy's turned to Harry, mid-laugh, in time to see his mentor’s lips quirk upwards. They shared their mirth for all of a second before Eggsy reddened more deeply than before, and turned his attention back to the screen.
Chester swapped places with Richard as the train rushed past, waving away the knife Richard proffered him, and Eggsy could see Chester was decidedly pissed off. In a low voice, he informed Charlie of his failure, at which the candidate grovelled, begging to be untied.
“Untie yourself,” Chester replied gruffly, and stalked off. He ended his glasses link then, presumably heading off elsewhere to sulk.
“Arthur- Arthur, please! Help!” Eggsy grinned at Charlie’s pathetic yells. “Someone! Anyone!”
Good riddance. Charlie had always been a right fucking prick.
Muting the feed, Merlin swung around on his chair to face the four of them. “Galahad, Percival; congratulations. Your… candidates,” his gaze bored into Harry’s, “have reached the final stage of the testing process.” He smiled placidly at Eggsy, but his eyes were reproachful. Eggsy gulped. He was surprised he hadn’t been reprimanded by now, or even disqualified, shamed, forcibly removed from the premises-
“As is tradition,” Merlin interrupted his spiralling inner turmoil, “you now have twenty-four hours to spend with your candidates.”
Eggsy shat a brick.
“Eggsy, Roxy, you’re to report back to Savile Row at 0600 morning after tomorrow. Dismissed.”
The bullet train ride to Savile Row was uncomfortably quiet, save for the rustling of fabric every time Harry crossed and uncrossed his legs. Eggsy had his arms crossed, sitting opposite Harry, eyes fixed on Harry’s tie. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his eyes any further. If Harry caught his eye he might well die. That wasn’t looking likely, however; Harry’s face remained stoic, eyes cast down, focused on something much further away than his lap.
Percival and Roxy exchanged wry grins, neither daring to start a conversation. That is, for the first four minutes of excruciating silence. Then: “My, it is getting late,” Percival - Alastair - made a show of checking his watch. “I’d say it’s straight home and to bed, eh boys?”
Roxy kicked him in the shin. Eggsy had to crack a smile at that, trying hard to ignore the unease settling in his stomach. Harry hadn’t said a single word to him since they reached the control room. Eggsy wasn’t sure if he wanted Harry to praise him for his efforts, or berate him for being a total fucking idiot. What he definitely wanted was for Harry to just say something .
“Not very ladylike,” Alastair was snickering from beside Eggsy.
“Not very gentlemanly to ridicule, either,” she shot back, but her face was full of mirth. She glanced at Eggsy, who was watching Harry as intently as he dared.
Not that it mattered. Harry was several worlds away, had been since he stood at Eggsy’s feet as he lay supine on the train tracks with horror written across his face.
Harry. I fucking love you.
Well. Wasn’t that a revelation.
He couldn’t pretend not to have heard him, if the footage Merlin had just sent him of himself goggling at Eggsy was anything to go by. He’d lost his composure for a moment, and Eggsy had seen. There was no guessing what the boy had been thinking. Hell, there was no guessing what the boy was thinking right that second. Harry wasn’t game to look him in the eye just yet, worried of what he might see there, but moreover, worried about what Eggsy might see looking back at him.
Harry was a solitary man. The very nature of his job rather dictated it. He hardly had time for himself, let alone another human being. He could content himself with a decent novel and two fingers of scotch until the day he died.
That being said, there was definitely something about the way Eggsy had stared at him, open-mouthed, awed, in The Black Prince shortly after Harry had thrashed a group of goons, had imprinted in his mind. The way Eggsy smiled at him after he had roused from his stint in the Kingsman medical bay, eyes soft, looking more relieved than Harry expected he would be. The way he’d grinned at him as his pudgy little dog successfully sat its furry arse on the linoleum floor, panting in Harry’s direction. The way Eggsy had preened at Harry’s praise at making it to the final six candidates, then the final five, four, three.
The way Eggsy had declared his love for him with what he thought would be his final breath.
Harry was in a spot of trouble, there. He had been trying for some weeks now to define what exactly he felt for his protege. “Love” was a rather strong word, but “fondness” wasn’t strong enough. “Infatuation” was a poor descriptor at best, too shallow. “Admiration”, perhaps, but he held a great admiration for Merlin and most of his fellow knights, and it was far too… platonic. Harry would say he was perhaps, maybe a touch, falling for Eggsy.
A bit.
Not a lot.
And that was if he was being dishonest. But-
“It wouldn’t be right,” Eggsy said.
Harry started. “I beg your pardon?”
It was Eggsy’s turn to flinch, not expecting Harry to join in the conversation. He recovered remarkably quickly and continued to Roxy, “It wouldn’t be right, would it, to have to give our dogs back if we failed?”
“Charlie will be taking his dog with him,” Alastair said.
“Pity the poor thing,” Roxy muttered.
“Who? Charlie?” Eggsy furrowed his brow.
“His dog.”
Eggsy snorted. Harry watched the dimples that appeared as Eggsy’s mouth split into a grin, and he really did have a lovely smile-
“You alright, Harry?” The dimples were gone and a concerned frown had replaced it. Harry looked up at Eggsy. “You’re, ah, staring,” Eggsy continued, his cheeks slightly ruddy, “you alright?”
“Fine, thank you,” Harry clipped, diverting his eyes back to his own lap. Eggsy sagged into his seat.
The cabin remained silent for twelve more excruciating minutes. The lift ride from the underground station up to the fitting room entrance was filled with quiet chatter as Roxy and Alastair discussed their next move, as it was “Really very late in the day, or abysmally early in the morning, surely it would make the most sense to retire for the night”. Eggsy glanced at Harry on more than one occasion, opening his mouth to ask him about their own plans, but found himself speechless each time. Harry would not look at him.
Well, Harry could not look at him. He had, earlier in the day, prepared his guest room for the boy, with every confidence that he would reach this stage of the tests. To bring him home now, however, felt indecent. Truthfully, Harry couldn’t bear the idea of bringing him into his house, knowing what he did, and making Eggsy sleep in the guest room so far from his own bed.
Doing his best to quash the mental image of Eggsy in his bedroom, Harry cleared his throat as they exited the fitting room. “Our cab should be waiting just outside,” he said to the back of Eggsy’s head. Eggsy turned to look at him, but Harry brushed past, making for the shop door. He held it out for Percival and Roxy to exit, with Eggsy trailing after them.
“Where we goin’?” Eggsy asked, as Harry followed him outside.
“I’ve a bed made up for you,” Harry replied, motioning towards the Kingsman taxi on the street in front of them. “Unless you’d prefer to return home?”
“At three thirty in the morning, bruv?” Eggsy shook his head. “Wouldn’t wanna wake no-one.”
They exchanged polite good-byes with Roxy and Alastair. Roxy whispered something in Eggsy’s ear as they embraced, turning his cheeks pink; giggling, she parted from him and slipped into the taxi.
Harry held the cab door open for Eggsy and absolutely did not gape at his backside as he climbed in. Cursing inwardly, he followed him into the taxi and nodded at the driver.
“My congratulations again, Eggsy,” Harry ventured, once they’d driven a block or two.
“Yeah, thanks,” Eggsy mumbled, hands clasped in his lap.
Silence reigned once more between them. Only minutes later, thanks to the late hour, they pulled up in front of Harry’s townhouse, and Eggsy hopped out hurriedly, thanking the driver as he did. Harry clambered out, shooting the boy a reproving look over the roof of the car. Eggsy was shifting from foot to foot quite animatedly, and for the umpteenth time that evening, Harry watched him blush.
“Sorry, Harry, that might’a been a bit rude of me. I’m - kinda really - need bathroom,” he said lamely, feeling like a tit. “But I guess you have the key, so...”
Harry had to smile at that. Nodding, he strode swiftly to his front door and unlocked it open. “Straight ahead,” he said, and Eggsy barrelled past him with a hasty thank you, not even waiting for Harry to turn the lights on properly.
Harry locked up his door and made his way into the kitchen, putting the kettle on by force of habit; tea would keep him up at this hour, but then again, so would Eggsy’s presence.
Eggsy. Harry could hear him washing up, and was taken aback by his cry, “What the fuck?”
Harry crossed back through his dining room. “Something the matter?”
“Mr Pickle?” Eggsy said incredulously, his back to Harry. “What the fuck is this?”
“My dog,” Harry replied.
“Your… dog,” Eggsy turned slowly, disbelief on his face. “Why the fuck do you keep him in the loo?”
Harry smiled wryly. “Mr Pickle is a fantastic conversation starter.”
“Oh, he talks, does he?”
“A very riveting conversationalist, yes.”
Eggsy looked like he wanted to laugh and cry in that moment. Harry fought the urge to gather him up in his arms, instead gesturing upstairs, “Perhaps you’d like to wash up and get a bit of sleep?”
“Yeah. Cheers,” Eggsy said, not moving.
“You’ll find towels and whatever else you might need in your room,” Harry offered, and took a step back, as if to make his own way up the stairs. “First door when you reach the landing. Would you care for some tea?”
“No, I’ll - thanks - I should sleep. Harry,” Eggsy took a step forward, and for a brief, unbearable moment, glanced at Harry’s mouth and back up again. Harry froze. As quickly as he’d stepped forward, however, Eggsy seemed to catch himself. “...thanks. Again. For, yeah… thanks,” and he hurried past Harry, bounding up the stairs two at a time, pausing when he reached the landing. He glanced back down at Harry, whose gaze had followed him, but he stayed still on the spot.
“Goodnight, Eggsy,” Harry said softly. “Well done today.”
The tips of Eggsy’s ears turned pink. “Thanks. ‘Night, Harry,” he said, and he let himself into the guest room, shutting the door a little too forcefully behind him.
Harry stared at the closed door for a long moment before attending to his tea.
Up in the guest room, Eggsy toed off his winged Adidas and tossed his cap across the room, watching it flutter onto a squashy-looking chair in the corner. He flopped down onto a firm double mattress, scrubbing his hands down his face.
It was going to be a long twenty-four hours.