Chapter Text
Eggsy squinted up at the villa, or what he could see of it through the foliage of the front garden. “Is this it?” he asked, bringing a hand up to shade his eyes from the brightness of the afternoon sun.
“Yes,” Harry affirmed. “The Seville home of Señor Guillermo Ruíz. Rumor says he's planning a coup since the royal family was killed during V-Day. He's also suspected to have ties to various terrorist groups.”
“Right,” said Eggsy. “So we gotta do a bit of recon, yeah? Don't look like anybody's home.”
“Of course it doesn't,” Harry replied. “It's three o'clock in the afternoon. Everyone except us is taking siesta.”
“Good,” said Eggsy. “That means we can sneak a closer look if we're quiet.” He carefully lifted the latch to the garden gate and opened it enough so he could slide through. “Come on,” he whispered after a moment. “Coast looks pretty clear.”
“Because you can see through all the trees, can you?” Harry asked dryly as he slipped through the gate behind Eggsy.
“This is really nice,” Eggsy declared. “This garden, I mean. It's so pretty.”
“I'm glad you think so,” came a deep voice from off to the side, and Eggsy and Harry both whipped around to see a man about Harry's age, with thick dark hair streaked with silver and dressed in a cream linen suit, watching them, his dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why are you trespassing on my property?”
“Nos disculpamos, señor,” said Harry smoothly, resting one hand on Eggsy's shoulder while the other hovered near the gun at his side.
“We're so sorry!” Eggsy blurted before Harry could say any more. “I thought this was just a garden! The gate was open, and my Spanish is abysmal, you see. It's so beautiful, I made William stop for a look around.” He wrapped an arm around Harry's waist and snuggled into him. Harry looked down at Eggsy, brow furrowing slightly, before relaxing and letting the hand on Eggsy's shoulder drift down his back to rest on his hip.
“We have established that my garden is lovely,” the man—Guillermo Ruíz, Eggsy presumed—said evenly. “Now I want to know why you gentlemen think you can be in here.”
“I was hoping we could use it for our ceremony,” said Eggsy hastily. “William wanted so much to have the wedding here in Seville, it's our very favorite city; and we were just having a walk around and we saw this garden and I said to William, 'this would be perfect!'” He turned to Harry. “Didn't I say that, love?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth, my darling,” Harry replied, curling his hand a little tighter around Eggsy's hip and giving him a we'll talk about this later look. He looked back at Ruíz. “My Edward is such an impulsive creature,” he explained with an apologetic shrug. “I have such trouble with him.”
“Yes, I know how that is,” said Ruíz, with an understanding smile. “My Isabela is just the same way. So young and beautiful and spontaneous.”
“Quite so,” agreed Harry. “But they're worth it, wouldn't you agree?” He smiled lovingly down at Eggsy, who beamed back, pointedly ignoring the way his heart stuttered at the warmth in Harry's eyes and voice.
"Ah, yes," sighed Ruíz. "I would not trade my esposita for anything."
"Nor I my dear Edward," Harry declared, pressing a kiss to Eggsy's temple.
"You're too sweet, William," Eggsy murmured as he felt his face flush.
“Well, then,” said Ruíz, smile wide as he ran his hands along his lapels. “It is settled.”
“What is?” asked Eggsy.
“You two love my little jardín. The one I had planted out of love for my Isabela. I insist you have your ceremony here. It is the perfect place for you to declare your love. And we will handle everything.”
“Oh, we couldn't,” Harry protested, his grip on Eggsy tightening surreptitiously.
“I insist,” Ruíz countered, his eyes narrowing. “You wouldn't want to disappoint your little Eduardo, would you?”
“Of course he wouldn't,” Eggsy cooed, placing his hand over Harry's at his hip, rubbing soothingly in an attempt to loosen Harry's fingers digging into his skin. “My William would never do that, but we would never dream of placing all the trouble of planning our wedding on you and your dear wife.”
“My wife would insist, as I do,” said Ruíz. “She adores love stories and I feel yours is quite a tale. It would be our honor to do this for you.”
“We are only in Spain for another week or two,” said Harry. “It would be such an imposition.”
“It can be done,” Ruíz said stubbornly. “I know everybody in Seville. Now you will come into the house for a café and to meet my Isabela, and we will talk about your wedding.”
A week later, Eggsy and Harry stood in front of a handful of Seville's most powerful and dangerous men. Ruíz had insisted on inviting his most trusted associates to meet his new English friends, and claimed the wedding was the perfect time. Harry was quite satisfied that this was all turning out well, as they couldn't have asked for a better time to strike than with all of Ruíz's cohorts in one place.
Eggsy tried not to panic at the realization that he was about to marry Harry. Well, okay, Edward was marrying William, but still. He forcefully shoved down the part of himself that wished that this was real; he couldn't let his silly little crush on Harry ruin the friendship they'd managed to achieve in the months since Harry had returned from Kentucky, alive and with only a fierce scar over his left eye as a souvenir of his near-death experience.
Eggsy stood quietly next to Harry, facing an official who had agreed to perform the ceremony for them (Eggsy privately wondered whether it had been money or threats that had “convinced” the man), and tried very hard not to think about how nice Harry looked in the suit Isabela had ordered for him. Judging by the little glances Harry kept sending him, Eggsy supposed he looked pretty good in his suit, too, and he tried not to preen. Or to think too much of it; after all, their covers were in love. For all he knew, these little glances were William checking out Edward, as would be expected on their wedding day. It didn't mean Harry would check out Eggsy.
Eggsy wasn't quite sure exactly what was happening, as the ceremony was performed in rapid Spanish, but he nodded and said Sí when Harry nudged him, and slid the ring onto Harry's finger when Isabela pressed the gold band into his hand.
“You are family now,” Isabela declared warmly once the ceremony was over, kissing Eggsy, then Harry, on the cheek.
At that moment, their backup from Interpol descended, sending the gathering into chaos as Ruíz and his men dove for the house to collect their weapons, left behind at Isabela's insistence that a wedding was no place for guns.
“I somehow think we've made ourselves the black sheep,” Harry murmured as he and Eggsy ran from the gunfire and to their extraction point.
“Any particular reason why you chose to make us lovers when Ruíz confronted us in the garden?” asked Harry later, as they made their way back to England on the Kingsman jet.
Eggsy shrugged. “Was the first thing that popped into my head?”
“So you hadn't researched Ruíz and realized he was a newlywed with a much younger wife, and might sympathize with us if we were a similar couple?”
“Nope,” Eggsy shook his head. “Just lucky that way.”
“Indeed,” Harry agreed as he worked the gold band off his finger. “It worked for us this time, but I certainly hope this impulse to pretend you and your partner are lovers won't become a habit.”
“Of course not,” Eggsy said, his feelings still a confused tangle in his mind. “It won't. I promise.”
Notes:
My very, very rusty Spanish tells me that "Nos disculpamos" means "We apologize."
Chapter 2: New York
Summary:
Harry runs into a bureaucratic snag. Eggsy helps out.
Notes:
I know absolutely nothing about how green cards work. I assume this is completely off-base. Pretend this is my version of an AU of The Proposal
Chapter Text
Eggsy had been laughing for five minutes.
Harry had been scowling for four-and-a-half.
“It's not that funny,” Harry said, a bit petulantly.
“Yeah, it is,” Eggsy retorted in the flat Midwestern American accent he was supposed to be using on this mission. “I can't believe you let your green card expire.”
“This is serious, Eggsy,” Merlin said sternly over the glasses. “Harry might get deported, potentially blowing his cover, and you certainly can't complete this mission on your own.”
“I don’t know how we let this happen, Merlin,” Harry hissed.
“It’s been years since you’ve used this cover,” said Merlin with a sigh. “In all the haste to get you to America, it completely slipped my mind to check Robert Westworth's green card.”
“I didn’t think of it, either,” Harry replied, resigned. “But I suppose that’s water under the bridge now.”
“Well, what’s the plan?” Eggsy asked, craning his head to read one of the signs on the wall of the office they’d been led to upon their arrival in New York. “Don’t suppose the American Kingsmen could give us a hand.”
“They’re already a bit put out that we insisted on coming here ourselves rather than transfer this mission to them,” Harry murmured. “I doubt they’ll be of much help.”
“Not to mention that Franklin is still upset with Galahad about what happened in Orlando in 1997,” piped up Merlin unhelpfully.
Eggsy’s eyes lit up. “What happened in Orlando—"
“None of your business, Gareth,” Harry interrupted primly, sitting up straighter in the plastic chair and crossing his legs. “And, Merlin, if you can’t be helpful, at least be silent.”
Merlin’s only reply was a snort.
Before Eggsy could continue this line of inquiry (he made a mental note to look at Harry’s mission logs when they got back to London; Harry hadn’t bothered to change his password since giving it to Eggsy way back before V-Day), the door to the office opened and a tall, severe-looking woman came striding into the room, a manila folder clutched in one long-fingered hand.
“Mr Westworth,” she said in a cold voice. “I hope you understand the gravity of the situation.”
“I am so terribly sorry about all this, Ms. Sheffield,” Harry said, for what felt like the sixth time. “I can’t believe I let it slip my mind.”
“You’ve had other things to worry about, Robbie,” Eggsy said, patting Harry’s hand consolingly. Harry shot him a slightly irritated look, but didn't shove him away, so Eggsy let his hand remain on top of Harry's.
Ms Sheffield’s eyes darted to where Eggsy's hand rested on Harry's. “You understand how serious this is, Mr Westworth,” she said, tearing her gaze from their hands and looking over the sheaf of papers she’d retrieved. “You realize how reluctant the United States is to let aliens who enter the country on expired green cards renew them.”
“I do, Ms Sheffield, and I will do whatever I need to in order to rectify this awkward situation.” Harry put on his best Innocent face, which Eggsy hadn’t seen since that time in the pub with Dean’s goons. Unlike Rotti, Ms Sheffield was susceptible to the power of Harry’s Bambi Eyes, because she just sighed and relaxed the tense line of her shoulders.
“The good news is that up until the expiration, you were in good standing with the government,” Sheffield said.
“That’s wonderful news,” Harry gushed, and Eggsy held in a smirk as the stern mouth of the immigration officer softened into a small smile.
“However,” she said, almost reluctantly, “that doesn’t mean renewing your card will happen any faster.” She gave an apologetic shrug. “The wheels of bureaucracy, you know.”
“We do, indeed.” Harry agreed. “Don’t we, John?”
“Would us getting married work?” asked Eggsy, pulling out his cover’s U.S. passport and handing it to Ms Sheffield. “I mean, I’m a citizen, and that’d make him legal and everything, right?”
“I thought you said you wouldn't make this a habit,” said Merlin in his ear. “This is twice, now.”
Because he was obviously being unhelpful, the two Kingsman agents ignored him.
The Immigration Officer's eyebrows rose as she perused the passport, her eyes flicking up to Eggsy to confirm he matched the photo in the little booklet. “Are you...together?” she asked, her eyes moving back and forth between the two men in obvious disbelief.
Eggsy nodded. “We weren’t planning on marrying quite yet, but I certainly wouldn't want to see Robbie barred from the country; if pushing our wedding up a bit solves this little....issue, I don't have a problem with it.” He turned to Harry. “Do you, honey?”
Harry's expression said not this again, but he smiled gamely back at Eggsy. “Of course I don't have a problem with it, darling,” he said, reaching out to brush back a strand of Eggsy’s hair. “I didn't want to presume; I know how important it is to you that your university friends be able to attend our wedding.”
Eggsy blushed and grinned as he turned back to the immigration officer, whose flatly disbelieving look had faded into a skeptical eyebrow. “There we are,” he said cheerfully, reaching over and curling his fingers around Harry’s. “We'll just have a quick wedding here, and plan another one when we get back to England after our vacation here.”
Ms Sheffield tapped one long finger against ‘John’s’ passport for a moment. “Stay right there,” she ordered, handing the passport back to Eggsy. “I’ll see if we can get this taken care of in the next couple of days.” She sent them an apologetic smile. “That’s the best I can do.”
“We’ll be most grateful,” Harry purred, bringing Eggsy’s hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “Won’t we, my love?”
Eggsy felt himself flush hot. “Absolutely.”
“It’s a good thing the Americans legalized gay marriage,” Merlin said as Harry and Eggsy walked through the streets of New York, their marriage license tucked into the younger agent’s pocket.
“I’m beginning to think you like pretending to get married,” Harry commented idly as he scanned the busy streets for the shop where they were to meet their informant.
Eggsy tried not to blush again. “Well,” he blustered, “you collect Sun covers…I collect marriage licenses. We all remember our missions in our own little ways.”
“I suggest something a little less disruptive to your missions,” said Harry. “Especially since it seems this only happens on your missions with me.”
“Those are the ones worth remembering, of course,” Eggsy replied with a grin.
Harry smiled back warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “You flatterer.”

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