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If Percival knew how much a pain in the ass the young Unwin would be in the coming future, he would definitely be more alert the first time his name popped up.
“And this one?” he pointed at the file. A young man in his early twenties stared up grumpily at him from the picture, wearing Marine uniform.
Merlin took a look. “That would be Gary Unwin, Galahad’s candidate.”
Percival went on to the next file, not at all aware that he had just met the Black Death to his life.
*****************************
It turned out that the picture they picked was not exactly…representative, since the young man in flesh is nothing like what he looked on the file.
Gary Unwin sauntered into the room, hands in pockets, face a perfect image of awe. He was wearing an abominable yellow-ish coat big enough for him to swim in, a baseball cap to hide his messy dirty blonde hair, and a pair of sneakers with which Percival believed were little wings. Galahad was nowhere to be seen; clearly the candidate somehow found a way to slip off on his own.
Percival stared at the…boy. He was hardly a young man in that ridiculous ill-fitting outfit, more like one of those high school punks who sneaked out of school to get high. Gary Unwin wandered around, gaped at everything blatantly, not at all realizing the judging look Percival shot at him from behind, and only took his hand out of the pocket to poke at the picture on the wall.
Percival cleared his throat. He shouldn’t talk to other Kingsman’s candidate on principle, but he was not going to allow people stick their paws around in this building. Especially someone with such horrendous dress sense. “You shouldn’t be here alone, Mr. Unwin.” he said with his best authority voice, “where is Galahad?”
The boy jumped at his voice, obviously not expecting to be recognized. “Huh? Ye—ye mean Harry? I dun know. He was going to do his…things…n’ he said I could hang out a lil bit—”
“You mean he said you should stay where he left you.”
“Yeah…that.”
“Then do it,” Percival stood up, pulled at his lapel, “return to where you came form. Or I would go fetch someone to walk you back.”
“ ‘Kay! ‘M going. It’s not like ‘m sneaking around n’ stealing things…”
Percival ignored the boy, walked by him without a side glance.
“And it’s Eggsy, by the way.”
Percival turned around. “Excuse me?”
“My name,” the younger man said casually, hands in pocket again, a mildly interested look on his face. “It’s Eggsy.”
“Your file says Gary Unwin.”
“I know, but I don’t like people call me Gary, so I go by Eggsy.”
He slapped Percival on the arm, which was probably supposed to be an affectionate gesture from where he came but a rather rude one in Percival’s world, and winked at Percival.
“See ye ‘round!” the boy grinned, jogging off with a satisfied smile, like he just made a friend. Percival stared down at the spot on his suit the boy just touched, a deep frown between his eyebrows.
He didn’t like the young man.
**************
The training had come close to an end, and Percival still didn’t care for the young Unwin much. He was not alone on this; there were a few disagreements from his co-workers—their boss, Arthur, for one—on Galahad’s choice, but Galahad was rather determined on this choice. Percival didn’t see the reason, but he respected his friend’s opinion.
And it was okay, he didn’t have to like the boy. Even if the young man did become the new Lancelot, Kingsman agents were working solo most of the time, so the chance they paired up would be extremely thin. And Percival bet his money on Roxanne, anyway.
It was okay at the beginning, and had been okay for a good while, until one day it’s not.
He and Galahad were out for their work lunch, as usual, at Percival’s favorite restaurant. They ordered respectively, had some tea during waiting, dined in peace, and talked about weather like true English men. Then Harry brought the topic up.
“My apprentice, Gary Unwin, you have met him, yes?”
He had, unfortunately. “Indeed.”
“What do you think of him?”
Lowly. But the boy was Harry’s candidate, after all, and Percival was decent enough to conceal his displeasure, so he said “He is good” like the gentleman he was. He wouldn’t use those words should he know what his friend was going to say next.
“That’s great. I’m dating him.”
Percival stopped dead in his track, fork in the air. “Pardon me. You WHAT?”
“I’m dating him. We’re in a relationship,” Galahad replied nonchalantly, cut into his steak with grace, as if not noticing his friend’s having a major heart attack right now, “I know you don’t agree on my choice. But given time, I’m sure you would grow fonder of that boy.”
“I doubt it.”
Galahad smiled at him far too knowingly for Percival’s liking. “Only time would tell, then.”
Percival put down his fork.
He doesn’t feel like eating anymore.
*********************
Percival tried—for Galahad’s sake solely—to like the boy, but failed dramatically, and ended up disliking him even more when the boy pointed out that Percival had this “patiently impatient look”—which Percival didn’t, thank you very much—on his face every time he tried to initiate a conversation.
After a few weeks, even to imagine that there’s a good chance they could work together in the future gave Percival goose bumps; and to think he was dating his oldest friend—Percival needed to kill the thought, immediately, before his blood pressure began to skyrocket.
He talked to Merlin about his…apprehension once, but the technical staff simply told him that Harry knew what he was doing. Then Percival realized something.
“You are fond of that boy,” he said slowly.
“Hardly fond,” Merlin corrected, “more like…interested. You have to admit that Eggsy has his potential.”
Percival didn’t have to do nothing, and he sure as hell didn’t have to admit on THIS. And how came everyone kept calling the boy ‘Eggsy’ simply because he asked them to? It was ridiculous. Doesn’t first name matter anymore?
“We will see,” Percival concluded curtly before turning back and leaving. He could feel the other man’s silent amusement, he just failed to see how’s this situation amusing.
It’s anything but.
*************************************
Percival didn’t know who his source was (he had his doubt, though, that the name of the leak starts with an ‘M’), but Gary Unwin somehow found out that Percival took issue with his relationship with Harry, and had the ball to confront him on this matter.
“Hey, Percival!” he strolled into Percival’s office, settled down on the edge of his desk, like Percival hadn’t already told him a hundred times not to put his ass on any surface in this office, “rumor has it that ye don’t like me dating Harry?”
“Then rumor has it right,” Percival answered, didn’t look up from the paper he was working on.
“And how’s that?”
Percival always did appreciate honest and forthrightness. He didn’t have the time to be subtle, and even if he did, he wouldn't waste his limited subtleness on Gary Unwin. “I don’t like you.”
“Ouch, Percival. Ouch. Do ye mind if I ask why ye don’t?”
“Why should I?”
“I dun know. Because I 'ave a rather engaging personality?” the younger man suggested, face genuine, “Sweet and daring.”
More like brazen and irritating. Percival narrowed his eyes on the younger man. “You show no respect to the job.”
“Oi, I show my respect just fine!” the boy seemed scandalized by the accusation, “I did everything ye guys asked me to do! And I salute Arthur every time I see ‘im, mind ye.”
He did. Which is why Arthur hated him so much. “You did everything you’re asked to do with a laugh.”
“It’s called being happy! It’s in my DNA.”
“This is not a happy job.”
“So…me being happy bothers you?” Gary Unwin frowned in confusion, eyebrows drawn together, “I can try being grumpy, then.” He wondered out loud, then added, “like ye.”
Percival was being polite. There was nothing to be grumpy for, at least not until a certain candidate stamped into his office and determined to ruin his morning. “I see no professional skills we need in you. You are an arm candy at best.”
“Excuse you! I ‘ave a very manly jaw, thanks!” the young man protested, seeming more scandalized than being accused of behaving disrespectfully, “and Charlie’s way more of a princess than me. He combed his hair every five minutes; how come he’s not an arm candy?”
Percival didn’t have all day to debate. He pointed his index finger at the door, with a glare that had scared off far more formidable people in his career, and waited. The boy pouted, mumbled something unintelligible, ducked his head and left the office in silence.
Percival went back to his paper work.
************************
Out of all the traits he accused Gary Unwin of not having, resolve was certainly not one of them. The young man had the stubbornness of a seventy-years-old lady. Percival didn’t know if he picked it up from street or if it runs in his family gene, but the boy kept coming back to Percival like a gadfly.
“I think we should talk,” the younger man told him seriously, “ye’ll fall in like with me if ye get to know me.”
“No.”
“Okay, fine. Ye’re introvert, I get it. What’s yer first name then?”
“I fail to see how’s that any of your business.”
“I dun want to call ye Percival anymore, duh!” the younger man raised an eyebrow like Percival’s the one that’s being ludicrous here; “did anyone tell ye that there are far too many syllables in this name for it to be catchy?”
“No.”
“No? Nobody ever tell ye that? Jesuz. Some friends.”
“NO, as in I’m not going to tell you my first name, Mr. Unwin.”
“Okay, okay, chill! No need to get grumpy just yet. At least ye can stop calling me Mr. Unwin. Make me feel like forty…oops, no offense! My bad.”
“Some taken. And I’m not going to call you by anything besides Mr. Unwin.”
“Why? Ye guys call each other by family name even after work? Is that in Kingsman Agents Handbook?”
“No.”
“Then call me by my name already!” the young man throw up his arms in frustration, “just…do it. Go ahead. Ye can do it, I know you can.”
“If you insist,”Percival answered slowly, “Gary.”
The younger man winced. “Not Gary!”
“Why? This is your first name, is it not, Gary?”
The other man narrowed his eyes. “If you say so,” he opened his mouth, “Perce.”
This is ridiculous. Percival had better things to do than mouth off with a boy. He should go find Merlin; that’s a perfect arrangement.
Either he would get a friend to talk to, or he would get an enemy to shoot at.
*************************
“He is a pain in the arse,” Percival confessed to his own (far more likable and decent) protégé, “I don’t understand why Harry was willing to date him in the first place.”
Roxanne let out a laugh. “He is not that bad. He has his own way with people,” she explained, “insinuated himself under your skin after a few comes and goes.”
“That’s—”Percival started, “that sounds extremely uncomfortable. And he is no good to Harry.”
“Don’t be so harsh on him.”
“He flirted with me once!”Percival snapped, “while Galahad was right there!”
“Well, if that makes you feel any better, he flirts with me as well.”Roxanne shrugged, “he truly has no shame.”
It didn’t make him feel better. It made him feel anything but. Percival decided to talk to his friend one more time; this relationship was never going to work, it was destined to be doomed.
Harry was his friends—one of the few Percival could put his life upon, or risk his life for—and he couldn't just sit on his hands and watch his best friend boarding the Titanic. It was Percival’s responsibility as a friend to at least try talking some sense into him. He’s gonna talk to Harry first thing in the morning.
*************************
Percival failed.
Multiple times.
Why’s his wisest friend so smitten with one delinquent?
****************************
Things had been getting worse. Gary Unwin finally realized that he could never win Percival’s heart by cajolery and flirtation, which was good; then he self-adjusted his strategies into stalking the hell out of Percival like that’s going to charm the other man’s socks off, which was horrible.
Percival stopped dead in his track and turned around. “Why are you following me?”
“Wha’? ‘M not following ye, mate. I am simply walking in the same direction with ye.”Gary Unwin blinked innocently at him, “aren’t ye a little too self-conscious?”
“Very well. Where are you heading then?”
“…Harry’s office?”
“Which is on the other floor.”
“I’d very much like to take a detour. Relax my legs a lil’ bit.”
“Why are you following me, Mr. Unwin?”
“Because I like ye,” the younger man changed his statement fluently, face a perfect image of genuineness, “ye said ‘m good-looking.”
Percival glared at him in utter disbelief. “I said you’re an arm candy.”
“Which means ‘m good-looking,” the young man answered without missing a beat, a shit-eating grin on his face, “say it, Perce. Ye think I’m good-looking. Ye like me.”
Percival glared. “You stop tailing me right now. Or we’re going to have a whole new different conversation.”
“Okay, okay! Ye really should see someone for yer temper, though. It’s no good to yer health.”
“My health is not your concern.”
“’M just trying to be nice ‘ere! And ye know I would stop the moment when ye say ye’re happy for me and ‘Arry, yeah?”
“LEAVE!”
“’M going! ‘M going!!”
*************************
The boy sneaked upon him again, merely two days later, when Percival’s enjoying his time alone in training room.
Percival pretty much FELT it the moment the younger man sneaked in behind his back. He didn’t lose his focus on the shooting target, because he was professional, and didn’t do anything until finished all five shoots to acknowledge the other man’s presence.
The aiming was perfect, as usual. The younger man whistled, craned his neck to squint at the target. “Impressive.” He commented; then much to Percival’s surprise, he took a gun himself and aimed at the target.
His aiming was also perfect.
The younger man put down his gun with a satisfied grin. “Still think ‘m an arm candy?”
“With aiming skills, yes.”
The younger man huffed out a laugh. “Ye really are a piece of work, aren’t ye?”
“The same thing could be said to you, Gary. And I told you to stop tailing me.”
“AND I said ‘m going to stop when ye admit ye’re happy for me n’ Harry.”
A hint of curiosity entwined in with his usual frustration this time. “Why do you seek my consent on this?”Percival asked, “I was under the impression that you were going to date him anyway.”
“Ye’re Harry’s friend.”
“And?”
“Ye’re Harry’s friend,” Gary Unwin said again, like that would explain everything, “brace yeself. One day ye’re going to like me,” the boy claimed confidently, like he had everything under control, “and me n’ Harry 's going to be yer favorite couple. Ye will have us at yer place for dinner every weekend.”
He slipped away before Percival had the chance to shoot him. Percival glared at his retreating back, hoping he can stab something into that. No one was going to invite anyone to a home dinner.
And Percival doesn’t cook.
********************************
Percival caught Harry Hart and Gary Unwin once.
He was on his way to Arthur’s office when he ran into the duo. They were talking to each other at the corner, voice too low for Percival to catch. Gary Unwin said something, which made Harry threw back his head and laughed. Percival never saw his friend show amusement like that before, and he couldn’t help but wonder what, exactly, made his friend so happy.
He had no answer. Percival took a different route, and left the duo alone.
********************************
Percival knew it wouldn’t be long until one day he finally snapped.
It happened on an afternoon. Percival was alone in his office, dealing with a ton of bothersome paperwork. He was not in a good mood when someone knocked on the door and slipped in before he could answer.
Gary Unwin waltzed into the office like he owned the place, plopped down in the seat opposite, and smirked at Percival. “Harry’s out on a mission,” the young man mentioned absently, but there was something mischievous glittering behind his eyes. “Figured I could find some company ‘ere.”
Percival had a bad day. And the day kept going down at this rate. He breathed in, breathed out, unclenched his fist. His patience had been worn thin--barely hanging there--and still the boy kept challenging it, as if curious to find out which could be the last drawl.
THIS COULD BE. “What do you want, Gary Unwin?”
“I think ye know the answer,” the young Unwin eyed him calmly, not backing down at all, “’m waiting for ye to like me.”
“I’m never going to.” Percival put as much venom as he could find into the statement, “you’re a disgrace.”
“Tha’s yer best call?” the younger man sniffed, “‘disgrace’? well, Percy, try harder next time.”
Percival didn’t know what his face looked like, but the other man perked up at his expression. “Ye wanna punch me in my face, right? Ye’re definitely thinking about it. I could tell.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Then we fight,” Gary Unwin answered without hesitation, “you can hit me all you want.”
“Don’t temp me.”
“Do I look like a tease?” Unwin rolled his eyes, “take off yer suit, Percy. We’re going to fight.”
Percival didn’t move. He couldn’t believe THIS is the solution Gary Unwin came up with—a duel? The incredibility must have shown on his face, because the younger man groaned loudly in exasperation.
“C’mon already! Do ye ever do anything without a ten-paged debrief? Do I—do I need to call Merlin to schedule this in yer timetable?? It’s no rocket science. Ye want to beat me, or not?”
He wanted to. He SO wanted to. Percival held still for another five seconds, then loosened his tie under the triumphant smile the other man shooting at him, tilted his jaw towards the door. “Training room 3 is now vacant.”
“Great. Training room 3 it is.”
********************
The boy was actually very good, Percival could give him that. The young Unwin fought with great force, yet every move was well under control; he kicked and struck at the most vulnerable spots on human body, every attempt was aiming for serious hurt. He fought, not quite as gracefully as a Kingsman, but was feral and deadly, like a wolfish creature. He bounce up upon natural instinction as much as training technique, which couldn’t come from Galahad. Percival believed he picked up all those tricky moves from street fights.
The fight would have been over in a few minutes if the younger man was rivaling anyone else. He was good, but Percival was BETTER. He has been in this line for several decades, after all.
Percival blocked every punch coming in his way, and took his time to observe and test his opponent. He savored every second when toying with the boy with twisted pleasure of revenge, and enjoyed it even more when the boy’s frustration began to show.
The younger man growled in exasperation. “Ye fight like a girl—oh wait, Rox would strangle me for that—you fight like a lawyer. Do ye even, I dun know, work out anymore? Or ye just sit down with yer cabal around the table, reading reports and drinking tea?”
“Are you trying to provoke me?”
“I dun know. Are ye feeling provoked?”
He is. Under any other circumstance Percival would be better than that, but the way the younger man tilted up his chin defiantly, the way he narrowed his eye and stared, the way he simply BREATHED—they all irritated Percival like nothing else.He crept his way under Percival’s skin, set his teeth on edge, like a bloody fly that just won’t get out through the window you opened for it—is the filthy little thing that stupid? Can’t it see that he’s already willing to let it go? And why does it have to fly so fast, slips away under his palm every single bloody time—
At least Percival had something that’s not so fast to beat on, NOW.
He seized the other man’s shoulder with great force, not holding back his strength this time. The death grab startled a surprising yell from the other man, but Percival didn’t stop. Before the boy could react, Percival smashed his fist onto the spot on his arm where the bones joint.
Percival knew he overdid the moment his punch landed with an audible crack.
The young man went down with a painful yell, clutched at his arm, which is now twisted in a strange angle. For a moment they were all silent, too shocked to say a single word. Then the younger man slowly raised a finger, and opened his mouth.
“Not to be a spoilsport here,” he stared up at the ceiling, “but I think ye just broke my arm’.”
***************************
Percival did break Gary Unwin’s arm.
The boy refused to go to the infirmary at first, claiming that he was completely capable of ‘taking care of himself’, and that there was no need to make a fuss. Percival promised the younger man he would break his remaining limbs if he didn’t go, before grabbed his neck and throw him into the infirmary like a dog.
Percival was livid. At the boy, sure, but mostly at himself. He let the rage get the better of him, which is extremely unprofessional for a Kingsman agent. He was better than that. He was supposed to be better than that.
“When Harry’s back,” Gary Unwin threw him a warning look over his newly-casted arm, “he doesn’t need to know ‘bout any of this. Understand?”
Percival was about to answer when someone else said behind them: “I don’t need to know about what, exactly?”
Galahad walked into the ward, a firm look on his face. The boy gaped at him with wide green eyes: “Merlin told me ye’re on a mission!”
“I was. Just came back from debriefing with Arthur.”Galahad frowned at his protégé, “What happened?”
“What do ye think happened?” Gary Unwin snorted, “I just got my own pretty ass handed back to me on a plate in training. Usual stuff. ”
“I broke his arm,”Percival said directly, stepping forward while ignoring the angry noise the younger man made, “it was an accident. We were sparring, and I miscalculated my strength.”
“MISCALULATE? Did you calculate to not kick my ass too hard? Jesuz. Thanks bruv, yer bedside manner is absolutely astounding. My self-esteem is as broken as my arm now.”
Galahad stared at Percival, then went back to stare at the boy. They exchanged a few silent looks, before Galahad relaxed visibly, and simply said: “I see.”
What did he see, exactly?
“Ye have to teach me that move after I get this stupid thing out,” Gary Unwin waved his now casted arm, beaming at Percival enthusiastically, “that was so sick!” he turned to his own mentor with an accusing stare, “how come YOU never taught me anything like that?”
“The need hadn’t come up before,” Galahad sounded amused more than anything else, “but I can certainly teach you now. Can’t let you get your ass abused more than it already did.”
“Good lord. That’s about the most romantic thing ye’ve ever said to me!”
“I'm aiming for that.”
The boy laughed out loudly, way too pleased for someone who’s just got his arm broken. It’s insane, that Percival was the only one who’s being feeling like shite. He stepped close to his friend, gestured towards the door. “A few words, Galahad.”
The younger man’s eyes snapped to him in suspicion, while Harry nodded knowingly. “As you wish.”
“No fighting over me, boys!” Gary Unwin yelled behind them, “I mean, no MORE fighting!”
Percival closed the door the second his colleague walked out behind him. He needed to apologize. Gary Unwin’s training was certainly going to be compromised by his broken arm, and should he fail the final test, it would be on Percival partly. If Galahad put Roxanne into hospital while he’s away on a mission, Percival would be downright pissed.
“I apologize,” he said, “this is getting personal. Gary Unwin is your protégé; I have no right to educate him in your absence.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Galahad waved his hands, like it didn’t bother him in the smallest bit that his apprentice-slash-lover just got his ass kicked by a co-worker, “I’m sure whatever you did to him, he had it coming.”
Percival frowned. “I broke his arm. You are fine with that?”
“Eggsy said it’s fine, and I tend to believe him. As a matter of fact, he talked about it to me before,” Harry said calmly, “that whatever happened between you two is strictly between you two, man to man, and is none of my business. Actually, I was warned to leave you alone so long as none of you end up in an ICU.”
It suddenly occurred to him. “You knew it,” Percival accused, half-shocked-half-angry, “from the beginning. You knew he kept bothering me about this relationship between you two, and you did nothing to stop it.”
“What can I say. Eggsy could be quite...determined once he made up his mind. And I respect his decisions.” Galahad smiled at him, “now if you excuse me, i need to go back to my apprentice--before he began wondering whether we are having a fight to death outside.”
He patted Percival on the shoulder before took off, leaving Percival in the corridor, confused and lost and utterly alone.
********************************
It was at first Gary Unwin’s idea that they took a mission together--to bond with each other--but Percival said yes without hesitation. For that, the younger man spent a few days lurking around, staring alarmingly at his back, as if not sure whether Percival would hug him or shoot him in the head if he came any closer.
The mission was no Hercules task, per se, but it only took a few hours for everything to go down to hell. To be fair, it was none of them’s fault; they did everything correctly, as in Kingsman-Standards-Manual-ly correct, but it was impossible to foresee the bomb their target managed to activate; not until it went off in explosion, of course.
The whole room collapsed in onto itself, and everything went into a roaring blur. Percival must have passed out for a few seconds, because when he woke up, he was lying alone in the darkness, whole body aching like he got ran over by a truck. For a dozen times.
He tried to move, but a wave of pain washed through him the moment he lifted his leg. He lied back down with a low whimper, stretched his arms blindly, both hoped and feared he would find his partner around.
“Percival!” someone’s coughing from afar, voice strange to Percival’s ears, left him unsure whether he should answer or not, and then-- “PERCE!!”
Yeah, that’s definitely Gary Unwin.
Percival didn’t answer--couldn’t. He tried to make a sound, but failed; the sweet rusty taste of blood spread on his tongue. He lied there for a few more moments, then a hand touched him on the elbow, and clutched tightly.
“Ye asshole!” the younger man squeaked in anger, voice crackling on the edge, “ye scared the living shite outtaf’ me! Why didn’t ye answer?”
Percival breathed in, then tried again. His throat worked this time. “Are you injured?”
“Huh?--No. Not badly, anyway. There are probably a few scratches on my handsome face, but I can live without--” he suddenly stopped when he felt warm blood on his hands, eyes widening in realization. “Fuck. FUCK. Fuckfuckfuckfuck--How bad are ye hurt?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” Percival mumbled, even though he’s feeling nauseous. He lost too much blood. “Do you still have your glasses?”
“Nah. The damn thing is broken,” Gary Unwin shook his head, settled down beside Percival while going through his wound with deft hands, “and the mark is dead, if ye’re wondering.” he sniffed, “I checked his pulse. Lucky for ‘im, ‘cause ‘m gonna beat the living light out of the bastard for this shithole he dragged us into, if he’s not as dead as dead can be.”
Percival pretty much ignored the other man’s mumble jumble. He had something much more important to deal with. “I need you to pass something for me,” he managed out in breathy voice, “I need you to tell my wife--”
“I fuckin’ hate people saying that!” the younger man suddenly snarled, snapped his face at Percival, fury burning behind his eyes like dancing flame in the dark, “so what? Yer gonna die and somehow I’m not? How does that work? Who the fuck made the call? What if I stand up now, right this moment, ‘n fell down face first on a very sharp stone, then bleed to death in ten seconds?” he was breathing heavily, clutching at Percival’s shoulder with a death grab, “then all the shite ye gaiv me would be—would be—” he struggled, “would be shite!! I could end up as dead as you. How come ye dun’ pass my words?”
“I didn’t realize that this is a competition,” Percival commented dryly, “and that you’re so eager to win.”
“Shut up!” Eggsy shouted at him, “jus’—tell yer shite yeself,” he exclaimed, “‘M no message boy!”
“Okay then,” Percival answered tiredly, “no passing words. Now loose your grip. My shoulder hurts.”
Gary Unwin let go of him immediately, as though being whipped by a lash. “Sorry,” he said instinctively, before perked up again: “’M not gonna let you die!”
“It’s not your call.”
“The fuck it’s not.”the boy insisted, jaw clenched, “’m not gonna let you die. Now lift yer fat arse, we are going to get out of ‘ere.”
“I cannot move even if I want to,” Percival reminded him, “my leg--”
“I know, I know!” the boy cut him off, “i ‘ave eyes, thank ye.” he put one hand on Percival’s leg, and did nothing but stayed there, like his fingers somehow had magical healing mojo. Percival would call him out on this if he was not too tired, and the boy’s hand was not a warm and soothing weight against his aching leg.
“After this,” Gary Unwin grumbled, “ye have to say yes to me n’ Harry. I fuckin’ mean it.”
That again.“Why are you obsessed with getting my consent?”
“Because ye’re Harry’s friend. I told you that already. And I can’t believe ye didn’t tell me ye have a wife before...does that mean she’s the one that’s gonna cook if we came over?”
Percival was not fooled by his poor attempt of changing topic. “My friendship with Galahad is irrelevant. Are you afraid that I might sway his mind? I assure you that I couldn’t. Galahad is very dedicated in this relationship. And if I could, you two would break up a long time ago.”
“I fuckin’ knew it! Ye asshole—”
“So why you keep doing it?”
The young man fell in silence for a long moment. Percival waited for a few minutes; just when he thought the other man was not going to answer, Gary Unwin opened his mouth.
“I dun know.” the boy mumbled, fingers clenched a little on Percival’s leg, “I just…I just need to KNOW that ye’re okay with this.”He stumbled, suddenly sounded very tired, “I know ye didn’t like this. Us being together. I just figured if I could change yer mind, make ye admit that we…I dun know. Maybe it’s me being stupid. But I felt like—I thought—I supposed if I could get one of Harry’s friends, just one, to say that he’s happy for us, then maybe it really is okay.” He bumped the back of his head on the rock he leaned on lightly, closed his eyes, “that it’s really okay for him to be bonded to me. That I’m good enough for Harry. This is stupid, I know, it’s not like that I‘ave any self-esteem issue, it’s just…the idea make me feel better. And I know it bothers ye, that I kept pushin’ ye to say yes, but i—”
“You are.”
“…’scuse me?”
“You are. Good enough for him.” Percival answered, “maybe more than enough. I don’t know where the thought came from, that you don’t deserve Harry’s affection. You make him happy, anyone with eyes could see that. And I’m pretty sure all Harry’s friends like you just fine. As for me, you don’t need to worry. Even if I used to disagree, I have nothing against you two being together now,” he paused for a few seconds, “Eggsy.”
He could feel the other man gaping at him. “That’s…very unbecoming for ye to say.”
“Do you want me to take it back?”
“Shut up, I’m feeling something right now.” the boy nudged him, “never took ye for a romantic before.”
“Because I’m not. I’m a pragmatist, and both Kingsman and Harry could benefit from your presence.”
“And ye do not?” Eggsy patted him lightly on the forehead, “It only took ye a near-death to say ye like me.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But ye’re going to. Do ye like me, Percival?”
“...Yes. Unfortunately, I do.”
*****************************
The irony was, just like Eggsy assumed before, he did end up hurt worse than Percival. They made it until the rescue crew came, then Eggsy’s dumb luck—as the boy named it himself—kicked in, and he got hit accidently by a fallen brick right on the head while crawling out of the ruins. He was out like a light the whole way to the hospital, and only woke up with concussion and a killing headache three days later.
By the time he woke up, Percival was already allowed to wander around on his own (on a wheelchair, of course. It would take at least another three weeks for him to get rid of the wheelchair). He was going to visit the boy when he ran into Galahad outside the young man’s ward.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Harry alarmed him amusingly, “he would be so pissed to see you up and about while he was stuck in the bed.”
“Which is why I’m going in.”
Harry laughed. Percival adjusted his position in the wheelchair: “How is he?”
“Good. He’s going to fully recover in less than a month. Bored to death, I’m afraid, but in good physical health.”
“Good to hear that. And before he started to bother me—Eggsy asked me to tell you that I am okay with you two being in a relationship. He made a rather specific demand, actually,” Percival deadpanned, “that I say ‘yes Harry, I’m so very fucking happy for you two being together.’”
Galahad looked at him, with an expression that Percival cannot see through. “And?”
“And YES, Harry, I’m so very fucking happy for you two being together.”
“So,” his friend smiled at him, “Eggsy finally got to you.”
“I’m afraid so. I can see why you like him now,” Percival admitted, “he has this creepy way to win other’s affection.”
“Just like I said,” Harry answered, with a fond voice Percival never heard from him before, “I knew you would like him.”
FIN.