Work Text:
Also inspired by this art. Trust me, it helps.
Contrary to popular believe, Eggsy knew perfectly well that Harry Hart was alive and safely ensconced in the Kingsman hospital. The information was passed to Eggsy right after the Valentine mission and his abrupt admission as a temporary Kingsman. Eggsy, the one who failed the final exam, was not quite a Kingsman, but neither was he a trainee. What he did qualified him to certain restricted information, according to the governing board of Kingsman. Of course, it helped that the governing board effectively consisted of Merlin and Percival-though the latter was more than disgruntled that his proposal was in on the mission and not he.
Point being, that Eggsy knew perfectly well that his mentor was alive despite it being a touch and go sort of thing for a while.
The day that Harry Hart woke up, the ward was pretty quiet safe for the beeping of the machines. Eggsy –who still wasn’t quite a Knight- had came in directly from the Kingsman airbase, covered in cuts and had blood encrusted in his sleeves that would no doubt cost him a disapproving glare from Andrew down at the shop. The young agent had sat himself in the comfortable brown leather chair, a déjà vu back to his trainee days
Eggsy tugged at his sleeve, fingers lingered on the rusty brown stain. His fingernails were just as soiled and he was just contemplating washing them at the steel sink on the other side of the room when movements from the peripheral of his vision caught his attention. He paused, barely daring to breathe as he dragged his eyes slowly to the stirring figure of his mentor.
He didn’t trust himself with this. He had just came back from assassinating a man, someone’s husband and father, he wasn’t in the right frame of mind. For all that Eggsy knew, he had only imagined the stirring.
That was, of course, until Harry Hart blinked his brown eyes opened and groaned softly.
“Fuck.”
Eggsy kicked back the armchair, slammed the emergency button, and leaned over Harry’s head in one frantic movement. His eyes seek Harry’s and his heart must have been beating a mile a second when the familiar warm brown found his.
Only that there was a brief flicker of something in those brown eyes and for a fraction of a second, Eggsy wondered if he didn’t imagine the glint that made the warm eyes positively frightening.
“Move please.”
The doctor’s clipped tone snapped Eggsy out of his staring match with Harry. He made to step aside, but a hand grounded him to the spot. Harry had by then given the doctor a look and that was all it took for the stern doctor to give a terse nod in return. As the medical staff fluttered about Harry’s bed, Eggsy was once again caught in a staring match with his mentor.
Yeah, he thought to himself, his wrist almost smarting where Harry grasped it in a surprisingly strong grip despite having just woken up from a coma. Something’s off.
He didn’t tell anyone.
Despite everything that logic pointed him to, he didn’t tell anyone about it. He placed it to his imagination, placed it to his tired drunken brain. Eggsy barely knew the man even before this, how could he be sure that maybe this Harry has always been like this, only that he’d been keeping it away from Eggsy until after Eggsy made it into the Kingsman inner circle of some shit like that?
Merlin had been talking with Harry. He had been keeping up with Harry’s therapy and psych evaluations. He had known Harry for longer than anyone in the agency save for the remaining Knights, and none of them said anything or done anything. Nevermind of course, that all those blokes only knew Harry within his work environment and not so much out of it. Never went out for a pint after work or anything like that, as far as Eggsy gathered from the support staff gossips.
But still.
They still knew Harry longer than Eggsy did and they hadn’t notice anything wrong. Ergo, there can’t be anything wrong with Harry despite the odd looks that Harry sometimes get in his eyes. Or that sometimes Eggsy caught Harry stabbing and slashing a tad more violently than he needed when dealing with training dummies. Or that he had been frightening in his obstacle courses.
JB wouldn’t come near Harry, but Eggsy put it down to JB not used to Harry.
So he didn’t tell anyone and thought it was all in his head.
“Well done, Eggsy. Another mission flawlessly executed.” Harry beamed at Eggsy from across the table and Eggsy’s heart skipped a beat.
S’all in my head.
Eggsy remembered well the feelings that bubbled in the pit of his guts the first time he saw Harry in that pinstripe suit. He remembered so fucking well the way the sharp cut of the suit nipped at Harry’s waist and the angle of his shoulders. He remembered the way the buttons were just this side of stressed when Harry moved, the muscles under all those layers of expensive fabric making the folds and crease of the suit almost obscene to look at. And damn him, but he remembered the way the straight edge of the trousers move as Harry walked, the rhytmatic way that it swayed with every step he took with his Oxfords.
All of those and more came back to him when he sees Harry donned another suit, this time cut differently to fit his slightly smaller frame now that his muscle mass has decreased somewhat. Decreased, but no less dangerous, Eggsy had thought.
“Looking good, Harry.” Eggsy grinned easily as he leaned back into the sofa, a tumbler of whiskey in one hand whilst the other was neatly placed over his crossed knees. He was the picture of the perfect gentleman and oh was he proud of it. “People wouldn’t think you just came out of a coma eh?”
“Your compliments are duly noted,” Harry’s dry tone sparked a bright laughter from Eggsy. The front room of the shop was deserted in the late hours and only lighted by the dim streetlights from outside and a cheery fire from the fireplace. The room smelled heady with wood and warm liquor, the sounds of the crackling fire filled the silence as Harry moved to sit himself beside Eggsy.
It was odd.
Eggsy felt like a trapped rabbit as he watched the careful way that Harry reached over to the coffee table and poured himself a finger of whiskey from the crystal decanter. The soft clinks of the container and the almost creepy crackling of the burning wood gave Eggsy goosebumps as he swirled his own tumbler. He focused his eyes on the amber liquid he held, resolutely ignore the way the sofa dipped further as Harry –he assumed- reclined with an arm spread along the back of antique furniture and grazed the back of Eggsy’s neck.
Oh, Eggsy could just feel the smugness from Harry when he gave an imperceptible shudder at the contact.
“Have you been Knighted, Eggsy?”
The question elicited an indignant huff from him and he took a fortifying gulp of the liquor, welcoming the burn as it trickled down his throat. “Not yet I ain’t” he snorted. “Dunno why, what with them sending me all over the fucking globe and taking out targets and all. Figures though,” he mused as he contemplated the cuts of the crystal tumbler and the way the firelight caught in the grooves. “Best to have an unnamed operative to do the dirty bits, yeah.”
“Dirty bits.” Harry’s rich voice sounded almost amused and Eggsy would have bristled at the tone if the older man hadn’t brushed his hand once again against the back of Eggsy’s neck. “I assume you’re talking about the assassinations? I have read your mission debriefs, you know. It’s my right as your proposer.” Eggsy heard the chink of crystal against Harry’s signet ring and the following sigh after he swallowed a mouthful of the liquor. There it was again, though; the almost trapped feeling that he felt earlier. When Harry had said how it was his right as though that he owned Eggsy, as though all that Eggsy is now belonged to Harry.
“Yeah?” Eggsy smirked and held in the gust of breath that threatened to escape. He resisted his body’s instinct to push himself further into the sofa, to make himself smaller. “What? Yous gonna pick it apart, too? Bitch at me for every minute detail like Arthur did?”
“Of course not.”
The clipped tone had Eggsy turning his head to observe Harry and what he found damn well nearly knocked the breath out of him. Harry had his eyes trained on him, every bit of focus that the man has was aimed at him and Eggsy found himself almost shaking. The grip he had on his tumbler cuts into his hand whilst the other was balled tightly on his crossed knees.
Harry Hart was staring at him with those same eyes that he when the man opened his eyes in the ward nearly a month ago. His body was angled at Eggsy’s and with his arm draped across the back of the sofa, Eggsy was –for the lack of better word- trapped. There was a predatory glint in the brown of those eyes, sharp as the knives Eggsy had seen Harry used to carve into training dummies. The glass of the deactivated Kingsman frame reflected the gold of the firelight and for a moment, Eggsy could have sworn Harry’s eyes shone almost hungry. Harry didn’t even look away as he carefully placed his tumbler on the coffee table and gently clasped Eggsy’s clenched fist.
“On the contrary, I found them rather impressive.” Harry’s lips twitched into a smile and Eggsy felt heat pooled in his tummy with the sharp taste of fear in the back of his throat. “Have you seen them yourself, Eggsy? You were absolutely lethal.”
Eggsy did nothing when Harry closed in on him. He did absolutely nothing when the tumbler in his hand fell onto the thick Persian carpet. He absolutely did not move when Harry Hart, with his scar on the side of his right temple and a wicked smile on his lips, pushed Eggsy against the armrest in a whisper of bespoke suit.
His breath came in heavy and his chest constricted when the hand that rested on the back of the sofa fell to the side of his neck. The warmth of Harry’s palm contrasted with the chill of his signet ring against Eggsy’s skin and he wondered if he shouldn’t tranquilize Harry before calling in Merlin.
“Lethal and beautiful, and I for one think,” Harry’s face was so close to Eggy’s own that he could just feel the press of the thick black frames against his own frame-free cheeks. Eggsy licked his lips and swallowed hard when Harry’s eyes flicked a moment to follow the movement. “I think that you might have enjoyed it, Eggsy.”
All the breath escaped from Eggsy’s lungs when Harry kissed him, once, twice, trice, all closed lip and sweet but poisonous nonetheless. He could feel it, the difference between this Harry Hart and his Harry Hart. He could feel it because where there was safety in the glances that his Harry threw at him, there was an undercurrent of fear with this Harry Hart. He could feel it because where the warmth of his Harry had given him the feeling of home, there was an all encompassing inferno with this Harry. He could feel it because where there was control and restraint in his Harry, there was nothing but well hidden chaos and destruction in this Harry.
Something’s definitely off was Eggsy’s final thoughts when Harry nudged his head to suck wicked little marks on his neck. Fuck, something’s really really off.
There was one time during a mission in Delhi that it all went to shit.
It was another assassination and really, at this point Eggsy strongly believed that the agency should just fucking employ him as the resident hitman, fuck being Knighted. Harry as Galahad had come along as Eggsy’s backup, given that the assassination was to be done whilst the mark was campaigning to the masses. It wasn’t that the Kingsman wanted to control the election, but it was just that they had a job to make sure that the right sort takes office in all the key nations. No one wanted to fucking owned up to it, but Valentine did the world a bit of a favour in killing off the really dirty politicians and the Kingsman just saw the need to keep the filth out.
Waste not, Arthur had said.
Fuck you, Eggsy had thought.
An old lady back in the council estate once told Eggsy that if he cussed out an oldie, then god would smite him where he stood because oldies are to be respected even if they’re crass and rude and had talked shit about his mother. He laughed her off back then and had threw a two finger salute, feeling satisfied that his mother’s honour was avenged.
He reckon that maybe the batty old thing was right to some extent.
Maybe cussing out Arthur throughout the flight from England to India had been a touch overboard and pushed god’s quota for tolerating his filthy mouth.
“Unwin requesting backup.”
Eggsy bit out the words as he jumped off one roof and landed on another, muscle memory from gymnastics and fooling around with his mates served as his wings. His feet were light and his body felt like they weight nothing at all as he jumped and twisted and crouched in landings. Would have been a right laugh about the good old days if it wasn’t for the bullets constantly hitting where his foot had been and sprayed dust everywhere.
He ducked behind a chimney, breaths coming in heavy but steadily as he reloaded. The unforgiving Indian sun beat down upon him and his suit, beads of sweat trickled down his face and his cracked lenses fogged up from his breaths.
“Fucking hell, MERLIN ANSWER ME.”
Eggsy almost yelled in frustration, but held back just in time to roll away and continued to run towards the next roof top when the sounds of boots on concrete crept closer. He gasped when the heat of a bullet made itself known in the small of his back, caught by the bullet proof fabric of his charcoal grey suit.
He twisted his body in one fluid movement and half emptied the clip at the group that chased him half across the city rooftop. Eggsy would have laughed in satisfaction when he saw every bullet took a life if it wasn’t for a lucky shot to his fucking ankle.
Eggsy had been, at that point, ready to jump.
So when the bullet hit its mark, Eggsy barely had time to grip the rusty railing of the twenty something storey high low cost flat to avoid being a stain on the asphalt below. Eggsy knew how this could end and every outcome would involve him being dead either by bullet between his eyes or body bent in all the wrong angles on the ground or bonus bullet hole and a fucking mess of a corpse on the streets of Delhi.
There really wasn’t much to do then except to mumble all the expletives in his repertoire, hoping that the glasses were at least still recording audios so that Merlin and the lads and lasses back in his department could have a giggle. He could feel his grip starting to slip, the sweat on his palms lubricating the railings. He looked down at his feet and grimaced at the way blood dripped from his shot up ankle all the way to the maddening crowd below. It was an utter chaos of bright beautiful colours of the women’s sarees and punjabs and the muted tone of the men’s shirts and trousers.
He barely registered the clash of a door opening and the subsequent yelling from up above. There were gunshots and sick sounds of broken bones, of bodies hitting the ground and one memorable moment, the sight of a man with his neck broken being thrown over him and disappeared into the crowd below.
“You really are quite determined to speed up my greying process, aren’t you?”
Eggsy looked up and his mouth went dry.
There, silhouetted by the glaring afternoon sun and clad in his perfectly tailored navy pinstripe suit, Harry was splattered in blood not his own and the hand that he held out to Eggsy was pink with it. The other hand held a blood stained kerchief, probably used to cleaned the hand that Harry was using to haul Eggsy back onto the roof.
“Holy shit,” Eggsy breathed as he took in the sight before him. “Harry you slaughtered them.”
“And what was I supposed to do otherwise, hmm?” The older man raised a mocking eyebrow after he settled Eggsy against the rusty railing. Eggsy’s bleeding ankle cradled gently in Harry’s hands, but there was nothing gentle in the way Harry stared Eggsy down. The scar on his temple seemed inflamed and Eggsy wondered if it was burning. “Perhaps politely request them to stop shooting at my boy?”
Eggsy’s breath hitched at Harry’s choice of words, but didn’t allow it to sidetrack him from the situation.
“Harry, jesus fucking Christ, harry look around you.” Eggsy blinked away the sweat that trickled into his eyes. His arms were wrapped around his torso, finally feeling the cracked ribs whilst Harry tutted and leaned in to wipe the sweat off Eggsy’s forehead. Eggys has no doubt that there’s a streak of red on his forehead from Harry touched. “You could ave’ just shot them clean, not—not maim them yeah?”
“Nonsense.” Eggsy’s ankle was carefully wrapped in strips of a dead militant’s shirt that Harry had ripped off and lovingly caressed by pink stained hands before it was propped up under a bundle of bloodied fabric. The sun was unforgiving and the roof was so blisteringly hot that Eggsy could just see the heat rose from the cement, but he nonetheless felt goosebumps raised all over him when Harry settled himself behind Eggsy, putting himself between Eggsy and the hard railing.
“I disposed of the threats, didn’t I? What does it matter how I went about it.” Harry’s chest rumbled and Eggsy felt it resonates from where his back is pressed all over Harry’s front. He’s essentially sat in between Harry’s legs and all he could think of at the moment was holy shit that’s multiple stab holy shit that’s a pole between his ribs holy shit his head’s blown off holy fuck those are bones popping out fuck that’s just that’s just oh fuck Harry-
And Harry kissed Eggsy’s temple, his cheek and his neck, his arms around Eggsy in a heartbreakingly gentle hold. He settled with his chin propped on Eggsy’s shoulder and knees slightly pulled up to better cradle Eggsy’s body with his own. “You’re alive, they’re not. That’s enough, I think.”
Eggsy let out a shaky breath and raised his hand to play with Harry’s hair the way he knew would make Harry purr. It was by accident that he touched Harry’s perfectly functioning frames.
Something’s off with Harry.
And now Merlin knows.
It was the dumbest thing that anyone of them had ever done. It was the singularly dumbest thing that anyone of them had ever done and Eggsy couldn’t even bring himself to tell Arthur to his face that I fucking warned you didn’t I old man? I fucking said not to do it, I fucking begged you not to do it didn’t I you fucking posh cocksucker.
Eggsy couldn’t bring himself to do much, really. Not with the way he struggled to keep his breathing in check and his heart from jumping out of his chest. Maybe it should have worried him a bit that his hands were steady as they held the gun out in front of him, that he barely blinked an eye when he had to stepped over their security personnel and the odd medical staff. Under the ice that his heart was submerged in, there was a curl of admiration at the kills. There were no finesse to them, just straight up brutal violence and the animalistic instinct to take as many lives as possible in a short a time as possible. But the kills were gorgeous in their brutality, were almost artistic in the way the blood splattered down the corridor to the loading bay and the creativity it took to use mundane objects to rip a man’s neck open was nothing short of erotic.
Eggsy probably should have been worried about that twisted thought in his head, but given that he’s currently being ordered to hunt down the perpetrator, he really couldn’t spare a moment to reflect on his own mental health. Eggsy wasn’t always an errant youth. He had read his share of random books in the library when he’d hid in there during lunch cause’ Dean had beaten his mum so she forgotten to pack his lunch. He read once that if you love someone, if you love them long enough or –fuck it- hard enough, strong enough, you’d take on some of their behaviour and the likes. He probably should give it more than a passing thought when he stopped to admire a clean slash at the throat of a male nurse.
‘Galahad, you’re approximately two turns from the mark. Or, really, the estimated position of the mark. He’s currently in what we assume a blind spot.’
Eggsy cocked his head to the side and felt a grim smile pulled at his lips as he stepped over another corpse and pressed against the cold wall. His breathing was normal, his heart was steady, his hands were firm, and his thoughts were clear with one person in mind. “Galahad now, am I? You got Arthur patched in now have you?” Eggsy took a teasing tone as he turned a corner. His Oxford made no noise and the only sound seemed to be the air conditioning as it feeds cool air into the blood painted corridor.
‘No, I don’t,’ the sound of Scottish brogue filled Eggsy’s ear and he almost felt sorry for how tight it sounded. ‘More like he asked me to pass on the message to you, so yes, Eggsy. You’re Galahad.’
“Bit cold, innit?”
And they both knew that he wasn’t talking about the air conditioning. “I’m closing in on the Mark, Merlin.” Eggsy raised his arms a little higher and gripped his gun a little tighter the closer he got to the double doors that lead to the hangar and loading bay. He pushed the doors opened with his shoulder and didn’t bother with stealth as he walked with his gun pointed at a figure that stood amidst the remnants of a massacre.
It felt like he was back in Harry’s study, that day in February last year. He took in the sheer number of bodies that littered the area, the way they slumped over and the sheer brilliance of the red on their clothes. He’s sure that Merlin was feeling the same sort of déjà vu as he was at this time and he nearly felt sorry for Arthur when it comes to cleaning up this mess.
A veteran agent gone batshit crazy insane and rained death on the agency HQ? How the fuck do you clean that up and made sure it doesn’t end up on the permanent records?
“Harry, love?”
Eggsy stopped short of brushing the gun against the back of Harry’s head. The older gentleman pivoted slowly, body held tall and firm as he looked down at Eggsy with a gentle look on his face. Blood splattered his left lens and smeared across his cheek and forehead whilst few strands of his hair fell from their perfect style. Harry didn’t so much as blink as he stared past the barrel of Eggsy’s gun but instead stared softly at him with an almost questioning look.
“They would have to make you Galahad now, wouldn’t they my dear?” Harry smiled and Eggsy almost cringe when he recognized it as the same smile he gave to Valentine. “And you thought you would never be Knighted.”
Eggsy took a step forward and pressed the barrel against Harry’s forehead, heart body and mind strangely bereft of all feelings. “Harry, love. Don’t make me, please.” Eggsy whispered. “You’d come quietly, yeah? No struggle, no yelling, no nothing.”
Harry’s went from soft to impossibly sad and his eyebrows slanted as he considered Eggsy. “Eggsy my boy, that’s not how it works.” His words were kind and his tone was sweet and Eggsy barely registered Merlin talking to him over the earpiece. “Agents are replaced when the spots are vacant. Don’t you want to be Knighted, Eggsy?”
Eggsy must have taken a moment too long to reply because the next thing he knows, Harry had taken his hand in a gentle grip and held it against his cheek. “Oh, I see.” Harry’s words were understanding and as soft as a kitten’s mewl. “My poor boy; I’ve been making assumptions on what you wanted. Will you forgive me, Eggsy?” The gun’s coolness contrasted with the warmth of Harry’s bloodstained hand and his equally stained face and –perhaps hysterically- he marvelled at the gorgeous picture Harry made.
“Or better yet,” Harry nuzzled Eggsy’s hand and he could just feel his resolve weakened. “What do you want, Eggsy?”
Eggsy gulped.
His arm went slack and he stepped into Harry’s space.
“I want you.”
Merlin’s voice rattled in his brain, but Eggsy really couldn’t care less as he stared up at Harry who smiled so prettily at him it almost hurts. He kissed the back of Eggsy’s hand and the barrel of his gun before he darted forward to press a quick kiss to Eggsy’s temple, the exact spot that Valentine had shot him.
“You have me.”
“It really doesn’t have to be this difficult, my good man.”
Eggsy leaned back against the wall of the empty apartment’s living room, absently smoking a fag as he watched Harry prowled around their shaking mark whose hands were tied back and feet strapped to the legs of a sturdy metal chair. The bag had been taken off the poor thing’s head hours ago and Harry had been having fun since, the plastic covered floor was testament to that with all the splattered blood and rank smelling urine.
He tilted his head a little and smiled when swollen eyes bored angrily into his. “He’s right, you know.” Eggsy blew smoke rings leisurely and pressed the filter to Harry’s lips when the older man sidled against him. Harry’s black leather gloves glinted tellingly and Eggsy could almost smell the blood from them, not that he’s complaining. His own gloves weren’t looking all that clean either.
“Tell im’ what he wants to know and we’ll let you off, yeah? With all ten toes and fingers and all, promise.” He grinned, body snugly pressed against Harry’s side. “Can’t do much about your ear though, sorry mate.”
“Or your kneecaps.” Harry intoned.
“You aint done nothing to his kneecaps, Harry.” Eggsy frowned up at Harry. His eyes fluttered close when Harry kissed the line between his eyes and he took pleasure in the smell of gunpowder and Harry’s cologne.
Two shots rang out and echoed throughout the empty apartment and the man screamed.
“So terribly sorry about your kneecaps, Mr Hansen.” Eggsy sighed when Harry dropped a soft kiss into his hair. “Would you like to have a go, darling?”
He hummed and allowed himself to be pulled along, body positioned in front of Harry and Harry’s arms bracketed his own. Harry slipped sleek scalpels into Eggsy’s hands and the gloves squeaked when he closed his bigger, warmer hands around Eggsy’s.
“I think today we’ll practice your Lingchi methods.” Harry’s lips brushed against his ears and Eggsy shuddered deliciously when teeth nipped at the lobe. “We’ll start with the right flank.”
“And if I do it right?” Eggsy turned his head and pressed sweet kisses to the corner of Harry’s upturned lips. Brown eyes poured absolute adoration into Eggsy’s blue and he could almost pretend that there wasn’t a man tied to a chair right in front of him, kneecaps shot to hell and with a missing ear to boot.
“Then I suppose a Fioravanti suit might just be in your near future.” Harry’s hands squeezed Eggsy’s once before he stepped back. “But only if you do it right. Do not kill him just yet, please.”
“I shall endeavour to do my best, dearest.” Eggsy said in his best posh accent and threw a wink for good measures. He preened when Harry laughed, already lounging against the same patch of wall with his arms elegantly crossed and dark navy suit impossibly impeccable despite the torturing.
“Right then Mr Hansen.” Eggsy’s Oxfords crinkled the plastic covering as he stood at attention in front of his captive. “Or Galahad, if you prefer to be called,” he flexed his hands to get a feel of the scalpels and grinned when the man tried to speak through his pain.
“How are the Kingsman doing nowadays?”
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