Chapter Text
The morning after a rough night of drinking and partying was never easy on anyone. Except, as Eggsy learned, Roxy Morton, whom he suspected was probably superhuman and thus immune to hangovers. Eggsy, however, wasn’t, so he rested his head in between his hands, eyes squeezed shut and breathing short as Roxy merely smiled at him over her cup of coffee.
Eggsy was just thankful that his mother had taken JB and Daisy out for the morning, so his apartment was empty, save for himself and his co-worker.
“You had more to drink than me,” he groaned, rubbing his temples. “How the fuck are you not hungover?”
“I probably just have a higher alcohol tolerance than you,” she replied. She set her coffee down. “Anyway, you said you wanted to talk. What about?”
Eggsy frowned at his kitchen counter, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I… I fucked up, Rox.”
“Hm?”
He took a deep breath. “Last night, Charlie told me he wanted to get back together.” Looking up, he saw that Roxy had raised an eyebrow, but she said nothing, so he continued. “I told him no, and then he started pressin’ me about whether or not I liked someone else, and…” He pressed his lips together and grimaced.
“Eggsy?”
“I ended up blurtin’ out that I… love Mr. Hart?” the model winced.
She blinked, mouth open just slightly, though she didn’t look as shocked as Eggsy expected. He went on regardless, telling her how Mr. Hart himself had been right behind them, how he apparently heard the confession, and how he apparently ignored it and sent Eggsy home. By the time he was finished, Eggsy’s headache had subsided, but a depressed feeling had overtaken him, and he sank to rest his head on the counter.
Roxy listened to the story patiently, responding with a murmur here and there, but for the most part, she wasn’t surprised. It was pissing Eggsy off.
“So, what do I do?” he asked. “Honestly, I dunno if I can even look the man in the eye anymore.”
She turned a far-too-perceptive eye on him. “What if he just pretends it never happened? Would that help?”
“... No, I don’t think I could live with that, either.” Eggsy sighed. “I mean, for fuck’s sake Rox, who hears somebody confess somethin’ like that and just ignore it?”
“Well, you did drink quite a bit last night,” she pointed out. “He might think you just said it because you were drunk.”
“So, what? He doesn’t think I meant it?”
“It seems the most likely. After all, Mr. Hart doesn’t seem like the type of person to just ignore a problem till it goes away.” Roxy reached across the counter and laid her hand on top of Eggsy’s, spurring him to look up at her. “This is what you should do; go to Mr. Hart and tell him how you feel again. But this time, he’ll know you’re sober, so he’ll know you’re being genuine.”
“... How come you’re so calm ‘bout all this?” he muttered. Although, a fresh blush was rising on his cheeks as he contemplated her plan. It made sense, he supposed, but what if things didn’t turn out well? What if Mr. Hart gave him a proper rejection? He doubted it would get him fired, but work would surely be a lot more awkward.
“Please,” Roxy rolled her eyes, “you couldn’t have been more obvious about your crush on Mr. Hart if you’d tried. Frankly, I’m considering thanking Charlie for getting that confession out of you.”
“Shut up,” growled Eggsy.
“Anyway, what’s it going to be?” She tilted her head to the side, gaze inquisitive. “Are you just going to chicken out and act like it was a drunken mistake? Or are you going to woman up and give him a proper confession?”
“He’s… He’s my boss, Rox,” he replied. His couldn’t help but sound a little bit defensive. “Say by some miracle, he wants me too. What if we break up? Or what if he just flat-out rejects me? Shit would be so awkward! And I’m way too young for him, he probably prefers more experienced partners; probably thinks of me more as a kid than anythin’ else, and-”
“Eggsy!” Roxy snapped, and Eggsy’s jaw snapped shut, his teeth clacking together from the force used. Once she had his attention, her voice softened. “You’re thinking of only the negatives. What if Mr. Hart wants you, as you are, and that’s that? Even if you do break up, you’re both professionals. I mean, you work with Charlie, and he’s your ex. I’m sure Mr. Hart would be far more cordial than him.”
Eggsy was silent, unable to find a counter-argument. Roxy let out a small breath of air disguised as a huff.
“Look; you can either not do anything and wonder about the what-ifs… or you can take a chance and hope for the best. You’re a brilliant catch, Eggsy.” She winked. “Mr. Hart would be crazy not to want you.”
“I… I dunno, Rox.” Eggsy stared down at their hands, still intertwined on the counter. “I don’t think my chances are very high.”
“You won’t know for sure until you do something,” came the matter-of-fact reply. “It won’t be as bad as you’re dreading it to be, Eggsy.”
“... Yeah, maybe you’re right,” he conceded, lifting his head. “I mean… other than the best damn job I’ve had in years, what have I got to lose?”
“Atta boy.”
In spite of himself, Eggsy found a smile worm its way onto his face. He still felt like shit, but at least he had a best friend to alleviate that.
Unbeknownst to Eggsy, a very similar conversation was taking place in the city, centered in Harry Hart’s office.
“I’m not sure what the problem is here…” Merlin frowned, watching as Harry took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“How can you not see the problem?” the designer nearly shouted, exasperated. “For god’s sake, Merlin, I heard Eggsy say he loved me!”
“Again, what’s the problem?” he retorted dryly. “You’ve been in love with this boy for the better part of two months now. I figured you’d be thrilled.”
“I-!” Harry was indignant. “He was drunk, Merlin! That hardly means his feelings were genuine!”
“What, do you think he was just saying nonsense?”
“I think he was confused,” he murmured. His eyebrows drew together as he replaced his glasses on his face. “In any case, he certainly didn’t press the matter when I tried to get him home.”
“Probably because the poor lad was mortified,” commented Merlin. “Wouldn’t you be if you blurted your feelings out like that? In front of the object of said feelings?”
Harry looked at his personal assistant-slash-friend with a wary expression. “... Are you saying Eggsy was being genuine, Merlin?”
“I’m not saying anything. But I do think you should take the young man more seriously. And admit it, Harry, some part of you was happy to hear him say he loves you.”
Harry gave a small, rueful smile. “Perhaps. But to act on what might’ve been a false admission… I’d just embarrass us both.”
“Then wait for Eggsy to confess again.”
He raised an eyebrow, frowning. “You think he will?”
“He’s the determined sort. I have no doubt. It may even be soon.”
“... You sound awfully sure.”
Merlin shrugged, though a smile was definitely playing on his lips. “Call it intuition. And when Eggsy confesses for the second time, Harry, and you know he’s being sincere, I want you to give him a proper response. Preferably in the form of kissing him senseless."
Harry shook his head, smiling both tiredly and fondly. “When did you get so invested in this?”
“When I got tired of watching you pine for a man who’s obviously got it bad for you.”
“Prick.”
“Ah ah,” Merlin held up a finger. “Best friend. There’s a difference.”
Despite Roxy’s encouragement, it was another three days before Eggsy worked up the nerve to speak to Mr. Hart. The days spent at the Kingsman building consisted mainly of Eggsy peering around corners to make sure he didn’t accidentally run into the designer; by the third day, Roxy had had enough and all but forced him to finally do something.
So as Eggsy stalked off to the Galahad room, Roxy watched him go with a satisfied smile, and became vaguely aware of two additional presences. She turned and saw Merlin and Charlie- the former was smirking, while the latter was focused on Eggsy’s retreating form.
“Finally,” Merlin said, voice low, so that nobody but the two models could hear him.
Roxy hid a laugh behind her hand and nodded. “It’s amazing how much of a push those two needed.”
“How were you so sure it was going to work?” asked Charlie, frowning. “What if Eggsy actually agreed to get back together with me? Then where would we be?”
“I imagined you’d be smug,” shot back Roxy, giving him a half-hearted glare. In reality, though, she couldn’t be too upset with him. After all, he could have refused to help her and Merlin in their little scheme, but he decided to play along anyway. Under the guise of ‘if I see Eggsy send Mr. Hart one more longing gaze I’m going to puke’, of course.
Charlie rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “I might regret this,” he murmured.
Merlin tilted his head. “Hm?”
“They could be even more nauseating if they get together.”
“Well, nauseating and together is better than miserable and pining,” Roxy shrugged.
“If you say so.”
Merlin smiled at their banter and turned, returning to work with his tablet under his arm. Roxy and Charlie remained in the hallway- Eggsy was still making his way to the elevator, though Roxy suspected he was being deliberately slow in an attempt to delay what he saw as an inevitable rejection.
She glanced over at Charlie again. The taller model had his eyes trained on Eggsy’s back, something unreadable in his expression. It made Roxy frown, but before she could say anything, he turned on his heel and left her there alone. She watched him go, shrugging off her feeling of discomfort, and redirected her thoughts to Eggsy, and his upcoming confrontation.
The Galahad room was occupied by only one soul, as per usual. Harry was grateful for the solitude; it allowed him to focus on his thoughts in peace. No one was there to question why the designer’s mouth was pressed into a small frown, or why his brows were furrowed with a combination of irritation and sadness.
Three days, he thought morosely to himself. Three days, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Eggsy Unwin. Perhaps Merlin’s intuition was wrong for once. Ordinarily, Harry would have been overjoyed to point out Merlin’s flaws, but this particular error only saddened him. He was rather hoping that he’d be right.
The blank page of his sketchbook glared up at him, as if offended that Harry would try and distract himself with work, and then not actually do any work for the past hour and a half. He sighed and pushed the sketchbook away, resting his forehead on his palm and squeezing his eyes shut.
A knock came at the door. He didn’t look up.
“Come in,” he groaned.
The door opened, he heard the shuffle of feet against the floor, and then the door closed. His eyes were still scrunched closed.
“Er… Mr. Hart?” a very familiar, roughly-accented voice said quietly.
Harry’s head snapped up so fast he might as well have snapped his neck. His mind wasn’t playing tricks on him; Eggsy was truly there, looking adorably flustered in his Adidas and hoodie.
“E-Eggsy,” his voice cracked. “W-What, uh…”
“I needed to talk to you,” the model mumbled, staring down at his shoes. “A-Actually, been meanin’ to for a while… You busy…?”
“I- no, no, please,” he gestured for Eggsy to come further into the room, and the model obliged. Harry stood up, but remained behind his work desk. “Is there something you needed…?”
The young man took a few deep breaths before speaking. “It’s… It’s about what happened a few nights ago. A-About what I said.” He peered through his eyelashes at Harry, who said nothing but nodded anxiously. “I… I know I had a few drinks when I said it, but… I was tellin’ the truth, Mr. Hart.” Eggsy tilted his head up, attempting to look proud, but his flushed cheeks did very little to help with that. “I really, really like you.”
“Eggsy…” Harry blinked. Alright, so Merlin had this one right again.
Eggsy was suddenly speaking very quickly, as though Harry was about to say something negative.
“And it’s fine if you don’t feel the same, I can still be professional, but… I-I just wanted to let you know.”
Harry gulped and began to move around his desk. “I’m twice your age, Eggsy.”
Eggsy frowned. “So?” he asked resolutely. “You’re still one of the most fuckin’ amazin’ blokes I know. You’re smart an’ charmin’ and you thought I was beautiful, and shit, no one’s ever called me that before, at least not in the way you did, and I-” he stopped himself, blushing furiously. Though, by that point, so was Harry.
They were both quiet for a while, Eggsy’s words of admiration still hanging in the air, until the young man spoke up again.
“The only reason I didn’t say nothin’ before was cause I didn’t want to start anymore trouble.”
Harry repeated softly, “Trouble?”
“What would the people in those stupid websites and magazines say?” A guilty look had appeared in his eyes. “I don’t wanna hear anyone talk shit about you, Mr. Hart.”
And that caused a sudden surge of warmth to rise up in the designer. “Harry.”
Eggsy gave him a bewildered look. "... What?"
"Please, just... Call me Harry."
The model licked his lips and hesitantly nodded. "... Harry," he tested. "I didn't want people to gossip about you cause of me. Even if we weren't, like, together or anythin', they would still say shit if they found out how I felt 'bout you. So I decided not to say anythin'. Not if I could help it. But then I..." His gaze drifted back to the floor, and he chewed his lip nervously. "Then I had a few fuckin' drinks and ruined everythin'."
"Oh, Eggsy." Harry kept moving until he directly in front of the young man. Despite every part of his brain warning against it, he reached down with one hand and used it to lift Eggsy's chin up, forcing the model to look at him. Eggsy seemed surprised at the touch; his cheeks were so red it was almost comical.
"You didn't ruin anything," Harry said, honestly. He grimaced, bringing his eyes down to bore into Eggsy's. "I'm afraid that was me."
“W-What?” Eggsy stuttered.
“I have been enchanted by you since the moment I saw your photos,” the designer admitted, blushing with a hangdog expression. “You are beautiful, Eggsy, and I find it very hard to believe that I’m the only one who’s ever told you so. Not only beautiful, but honest and charismatic and considerate... I should never have asked you out to lunch.”
“Wha- Why?” asked Eggsy incredulously.
He pressed his lips into a hard line, trying desperately to articulate his thoughts. “I should not have encouraged these feelings. Both yours and my own. You are a young man, Eggsy, with your whole life ahead of you. You don’t want to be saddled with an old sap like me.”
A beat passed. Then, in a low voice, “You… dick.”
“... I beg your pardon?”
Eggsy’s eyebrows drew together in annoyance, or perhaps it was full-fledged anger. “You think I actually care about that shit? Harry, you could be seventy fuckin’ years old and I’d still want you! Don’t try and insult me by actin’ like you were lookin’ out for my best interests!”
Harry stepped back, releasing his grip on Eggsy’s chin, all the while looking dumbfounded. “I did not mean to imply-”
Before he could finish, Eggsy’s hands shot out and grabbed the lapels of Harry’s suit jacket. Fingers curled into the high-quality fabric and pulled- Harry tumbled forwards, a shout halfway out of his mouth, until his lips collided with the young model’s.
It was poorly executed, at first; their lips were at an awkward angle, teeth brushing somewhat painfully together, and Harry was frozen, unsure of what to do. He could either give in and push the kiss deeper, or he could pull away and…
And what?
Harry grumbled and let go of all his restraint. His hands came up automatically, one going to run its fingers through Eggsy’s hair, the other going down to the young man’s waist, pulling him closer. He also fixed his mouth so that it rested more comfortably against Eggsy’s, which caused the model to groan and circle his arms around Harry’s neck.
Seconds later, Harry let his tongue give a tentative swipe at Eggsy’s bottom lip, and was pleasantly surprised when the young man readily opened his mouth, welcoming him inside. They kissed like that for several moments, unreserved and passionate, until the need for air overtook them. When they parted, both panting from exertion, Harry leaned his forehead against Eggsy’s, staring into those oh-so-blue eyes.
The model stared back, the very picture of desire with his reddened cheeks and swollen lips.
“Try and tell me that wasn’t fuckin’ worth it,” he challenged breathlessly.
Harry swallowed back a smile. “Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want?” he asked, his fingers curling tighter around his waist.
“Fuck yeah.” He grinned. Then, seconds later, he deflated, looking once again unsure. “Is it… what you want, though?”
“Eggsy,” Harry said, their lips a hair’s breadth apart. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more than you.”
The grin returned. “Prove it.”
“Gladly.”
Their lips reconnected, and nothing ever felt more right to either of them than that moment.
END