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It was a considerable inconvenience that his body did not always listen to him. Harry was used to being a well oiled machine, movement wasted only when it suited him. Now he struggled merely to walk some days, or to get the words out that were dancing through his head. It was to be expected of course. One could not simply get shot in the head and walk away with no repercussions. The fact that his survival was in and of itself a miracle meant that no one was really sure why his body sometimes obeyed him, and sometimes didn’t.
This morning was his left knee was acting out, locking up awkwardly and causing his foot to drag as he shuffled his way into the kitchen. Mornings like this was precisely why he had started to leave his table set, silverware, glasses, and mugs already lined up and ready to go. He had learned the hard way that tea more easily sloshed out of mugs onto his trousers than it did out of the kettle, but it was hard earned information and he was determined to make the most of it.
He couldn’t help but feel grateful that his kitchen was as compact as it was. Sink dead in the center and easy to reach, and nothing more than a few steps in either direction. Still, in the past few months his most commonly used pots and pans had drifted from their previous arrangements ever closer to being at hand, and he had learned to cook systematically. First everything he needed was gathered from the refrigerator as he tried not to use it for support, bracing himself and focusing on piling everything he needed into his arms. His arms were the least affected by the bullet that had nicked his brain, his hands still steady instruments he could count on.
Losing himself to the simple act of cooking was a good thing. It kept him just busy enough that his mind didn’t wander too far, and it was routine enough that it wasn’t too stressful either. Normally breakfast would be on the go, or a bowl of oatmeal, but a full breakfast after a mission was tradition, and he wasn’t ready to let go of that yet.
Four eggs were topped off with water and set to the boil, the kettle quickly joining it on the next burner over. On a third burner he put a nonstick pan on warm to start it heating through. While he waited he got out the plates, started the first round of toast, and simply busied himself with his work. Adding the bangers to the pan when the eggs started to boil seemed so simple, so structured, and if he leaned against the counter as he worked no one needed to know. Finally everything was finished. Eggs peeled, quartered and plated next to the nicely browned bangers and toast, slices of banana and segments of oranges filling the rest of the plates, PG added to the kettle.
It was almost disappointing at the feeling of elation he had at merely transporting the plates to the table without stumbling and throwing half of it on the floor. But he took what victories he could these days. Going back for the kettle he put it on a hot pad on the table before remembering to fetch the copy of the Sun he’d had delivered, folding it and setting it to one side on the table.
He had just taken his seat at the head of the table when he heard the door open, so he wasted no time in pouring the tea, adding enough milk and sugar to one portion that he tried not to grimace at it, but the pale, sickly color was exactly as it was supposed to be.
Eggsy was taking longer than he had expected, and when he walked into the dining room in his dress shirt and suspenders Harry was pleasantly surprised to realize he had taken the time to hang up his suit jacket. He gave his successor an almost bland smile, rolling his eyes when Eggsy plopped down in his chair. Harry had seen him work, had watched through the screen when he had been on assignment. His protégé knew all the tricks, he just preferred not to use them.
“Say what you want ‘bout Valentine but I’m pretty sure these blackmailers was even more fucked up than him.”
He lifted the cup to his mouth and gulped at his tea, and when he set it back down the lines of exhaustion in his face, the slump of his shoulders, told Harry all that he needed to know. Governments worldwide were still picking up the pieces, the population still trying to recover from the countless deaths, injuries, and betrayals they were still trying to work around. The Kingsman Agency had been working round the clock, and while his new position as Arthur meant there were no currently empty seats at the round table, he still couldn’t go out into the field, and sometimes couldn’t even manage a full position’s worth of desk work.
“I can hardly disagree, but when they chose to target the Prime Minister of Belgium we had to step in. They’re one of the most stable countries in Western Europe currently seeing as they actually got to keep their leader.” He smoothed some marmalade over a piece of toast as he spoke, glancing over to see that Eggsy had devoured the bangers and eggs, and was pointedly ignoring the fruit off to the side. “The potassium will keep you from cramping up later on,” he pointed out, jumping into the next topic as quickly as he could so that Eggsy wouldn’t find the time to complain. “What does the paper have to say about your blackmailers?”
Eggsy sighed and picked up a slice of the banana with his fingers, barely catching himself before he wiped them on his trousers and instead using the napkin that was there for that reason. “Gerbils. The new chicken?” A look of disgust crossed over his face. “Tell me we don’t have to put this shit in the office.”
“You can hang it up after a nap,” Harry said primly, dabbing at his lips with his napkin before settling back in his chair, tea cup in hand. “When Merlin called to say you were on your way he mentioned you hadn’t slept well on this assignment. I thought our little,” he paused, looking up from his tea to give Eggsy a pointedly raised eyebrow, “chats were supposed to take care of that. I didn’t secure that encrypted channel for no reason.”
“Yeah? Well maybe them chats wasn’t enough for me. Suppose you’d better come make sure I get my rest.” Eggsy winked and yes, Harry could see why that particular maneuver had been working rather well for him on his missions.
“Finish your fruit,” was all Harry said as he took another sip of tea. He’d want his Galahad to have his strength up after all.