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Chapter Text

Two men looked at each other across a dimly-lit hospital room, neither of them knowing what to say or how to say it. A vase of lilies wilted forlornly on a small table. A clock ticked relentlessly in a corner. The air felt crowded with tense and unsaid words, choking out the potential for spoken ones.

At last, one of them mustered up all his courage, if not his intelligence.

"Your right eye's gone," Eggsy said inanely.

Harry remained expressionless. "Yes, I know." There was an uncomfortable pause, in which Eggsy looked as if he wished the ground would open up and swallow him, until Harry added, deadpan, "And all my beauty with it."

Eggsy barked a laugh, visibly relaxing. "You could wear a monocle," he suggested.

"You could bugger yourself," Harry replied, not missing a beat.

Eggsy laughed again, more freely this time. "I've missed you, Harry."

"I've missed... everything, apparently," Harry said, with some regret.

"Don't worry," Eggsy essayed a tentative grin, "I cleaned up after your mess. Did a bit of my own saving the world and that."

"Valentine?"

"Dead."

"Well done," said Harry, closing his eyes briefly. "I'm very proud of you."

Eggsy waved him off. "I'm just glad you're back," he said.

Harry wasn't sure he shared the sentiment, sinking into his own gloomy reflections. The miserable silence threatened to descend once more. Eggsy, however, valiantly refused to give up.

He said with false solemnity, "Although, you know, I had written a very lovely eulogy for you. I was all prepared to give at your funeral. And since I won't have the opportunity to deliver it, I might as well say it to you now. Listen — it was very touching — I slaved at it for days. It started like this:

Here lies Harry Hart,
A man with his hair in a part.
He named his dog Pickles,
had it stuffed for a nickel,
and now I stare at it whenever I shart.

"And the second verse—"

Harry was laughing now, laughing genuinely for the first time in weeks, all uncertainties forgotten. "You little shit," he managed.

Eggsy treated Harry to a real grin, one that would have charmed the wings from an angel. "I'd keep going, but I didn't actually write bugger all, and I've reached the limits of my poetic creativity. Also, Merlin said I could only pop in for five minutes."

He stood up to go and suddenly squeezed Harry's hand. "I mean it, Harry," he said quietly. "I really am glad you're back."

Eggsy was almost at the door before Harry was able to find his voice. "Eggsy," he called hesitantly, "what I said before— before Kentucky. I was wrong. I apologize."

The ease with which Eggsy's returning smile came hurt Harry's heart in an undefinable way. "Water under the bridge, Harry."

And then he was gone.

———

Harry's next visitor was far less welcome.

"We need you to become the new Arthur," Merlin said, sitting down unceremoniously.

Harry grunted in disgust. "I haven't been awake for a full forty-eight hours, and you're already barking down my damn door."

Merlin refused to be distracted. "Half our agents are gone, Harry. Either they turned with Chester King, or they've gone rogue. We need someone to look up to. We need a leader."

Harry half-turned away, his face twisted into a scowl. "And you want the agent who got you into this mess to be that leader?"

Merlin was relentless. "I want our most experienced agent, with the Kingsmen's longest track record of successful missions, to be that leader."

"Ask Kay, then."

"Kay's dead, Harry."

He flinched.

"And before you ask, so are Bedivere, Ywain, and Gareth. Erec and Pellinore are off the grid, no trackers and no bodies found."

Harry drew a deep breath. "How? Four of our best agents, corrupted? How?"

"They followed their leader," Merlin answered simply. "You know perfectly well how, as well as why. The dog test is what it is because we demanded unquestioning loyalty, not unquestioning morality. We need a leader who deserves that loyalty."

"The dog test needs to change, then," Harry snarled.

"Is that your first command as Arthur, sir?"

"Piss off, Merlin!"

"Can't blame a man for trying," Merlin shrugged. "Look, Harry, we wouldn't ask this of you if the situation didn't call for it. But Bors is starting to question why we haven't promoted a new Arthur, starting to suggest that maybe it should be him."

"Let him, then, if he wants it so badly."

"Harry, you know Bors. He doesn't have just a stick up his arse, he has an entire forest. He might dismiss Eggsy's legitimacy as a Kingsman."

Harry stiffened.

"Bors is a good agent, don't get me wrong," Merlin amended hastily. "But Harry, he's not the Arthur we need. Besides, we can hardly afford to lose an active Kingsman right now."

"Pick a broken agent so you don't lose a real one, is that it?" Harry said bitterly.

Merlin's eyes narrowed to slits.

He was sitting on Harry's bad side, but even so, Harry's arm shot up instantly, gripping Merlin's approaching fist like a vise.

He blinked in mild horror at the pen that was mere inches away from his remaining eyeball.

Merlin simply raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly from Harry to his entrapped wrist.

Harry eventually released his death-grip on Merlin, knocking the pen to the floor in disgust. "Alright, you've made your point, you sadistic bastard."

Merlin remained completely unmoved at the imprecation. "And your answer?"

Harry glared. "As Arthur, and your superior, my first order is for you to get the hell out of my room."

Gracious even in victory, Merlin left without protest.

———

Eggsy stopped by again not long after, sprawling into the visitor's chair like a dog by a fireplace.

"I heard you're the new Arthur," Eggsy said, as blunt and to the point as ever.

"Yes." Harry wasn't sure what else to say. I didn't want to be sounded childish and petulant. I'm sorry sounded entirely idiotic.

Eggsy remained quiet for a bit, before looking up and treating Harry to another one of his brilliant smiles. "Well, for what it's worth, I think you'll be a damn good one. An' I promise not to poison or stab you in the neck like I did the old Arthur."

Harry was quite touched.

"So does that mean I can start calling you sire and Your Majesty?" Eggsy added, immediately destroying any goodwill he had earned on Harry's part.

He levelled the boy with his sternest frown. Eggsy grinned wider, unabashed.

"...Not in public," Harry finally conceded, still glowering.

Eggsy cackled unrepentantly, "As Your Majesty wishes," and fled the room just as Harry was looking around for something to throw.

Chapter Text

Harry loathed standing on ceremony, which was why he was already sitting at the head of the table as what remained of the Kingsmen filed into the room.

"Yes, gentlemen, the rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he said, not glancing up from his paperwork. "I'm your new Arthur. Gary Unwin will be the new Galahad. All missions, official or unofficial, are cancelled as of now, and I'm recalling all satellite branches of Kingsmen until further notice. Our new priority will be locating Erec and Pellinore and determining their statuses."

He looked up, mildly gratified to see at this point that Lancelot, at the least, was still wide-eyed with shock. Eggsy's expression was one of ineffable smugness, Tristan's was unreadable, and Bors' was an unhappy cocktail of skepticism.

Ceremonies he couldn't stand, but theatrics he allowed himself to indulge in once every while.

———

Eggsy burst into his new office like a very disrespectful whirlwind. Harry winced as the boy threw himself into a chair that was at least quadruple his age. The chair protested audibly at the lack of decorum.

"You don't half like to make a dramatic entrance, Harry," he said, brandishing an egg cress sandwich.

"And I see we have yet to master the fine art of knocking," Harry said, a shade reproachfully. "That chair is a World War I antique, by the way."

"Using the royal we already, eh?" Eggsy riposted, taking a large bite out of the sandwich. "Oi, speaking of antiques, are you movin' back to your old digs, now that you're up and about?"

Harry grimaced, at both the egg cress and the thought of his old house. "I won't be there much, I'm afraid. Arthur has to live above the shop, as it were. I have a new suite in HQ. All very lah-di-da."

"I could go back for you, if you wanted," Eggsy offered. "Fetch your newspaper clippings and brandy an' all that."

Harry looked surprised. "Yes, thank you, Galahad, that would be very kind of yo—"

"Weeeeeerll, maybe not all your brandy," Eggsy continued speculatively, finishing off the rest of the sandwich. "Some of it might get lost in transit, if you know what I mean? Mover's tax?"

"Touch my cognac and prepare to be assigned to child paedophilia rings for the rest of your career," Harry said ominously.

Eggsy turned soulful eyes in Harry's general direction. "Just a finger?"

"Very well, just the one," Harry sniffed, to let Eggsy know that he was only allowing it through his own graciousness, and not by any merit of Eggsy's beggarly tactics. Unfortunately, Eggsy seemed quite deaf to the subtle nuances of nasal communication. "By the way, far be it for me to order you around as the person who signs your pay-cheque, but I do recall you being due on a flight to Singapore sometime in the next, oh, ten minutes?"

Eggsy got up, saluting with exaggerated deference. "Yes, yes, hunting down your missing Pellinore with Bors the Snores. I live to carry out your will, sire," he drawled, and disappeared.

"Don't call me that," Harry said, to the closed oak doors.

———

The doors to his office banged open again. Harry looked up, quickly wiping away the expression of hopeful resignation on his face as he realized it was Bors, not Eggsy, advancing towards his table.

"Bors," he glanced down at his wristwatch, "I wasn't expecting your debrief on the Singapore mission for another day."

"I'm not here for a debrief," Bors sounded even stiffer than usual. Harry raised an eyebrow, and when Bors did not elaborate, raised the other.

Finally, Harry sighed and motioned to the liquor cabinet. "Pour out some cognac, Bors. I have a feeling you need it."

Bors did so rather woodenly. Harry allowed him a few sips and waited until certain muscles in his face had relaxed before speaking again.

"I assume you've come to speak to me about Galahad?"

"Galahad," Bors uttered the name with force, "is a bloody thief!"

Whatever Harry had been expecting, this wasn't it. He stared blankly at Bors, who took a fierce sip.

"To be clear, Bors: this is not a complaint about Galahad's training or abilities as a Kingsman?" Harry said, rather baffled.

"Ah— well— not in so many words," Bors grumbled reluctantly. "You were right there, I admit. His combat and marksmanship is — not bad. His comportment is rough around the edges. The mission went as well as could be expected, really."

For those who knew Bors, this was practically a glowing letter of recommendation. Harry felt his bafflement growing.

"So then— he stole—?" he ventured.

Bors muttered something, looking moderately embarrassed. He tugged at his tie resentfully, and finally said, "It was on the flight back to London. I— er— he— somehow lifted a personal belonging of mine."

Harry said nothing, but his eyebrows were practically at his hairline. Bors in particular was fastidious about anything around his immediate person.

"Er— er— it was a photograph of— sentimental nature," Bors concluded uneasily.

"Oh, so it was a dirty picture," said Harry.

"If you want to be blasé about it," Bors looked extremely put out.

"Nothing else missing?"

"No, just the photo."

"Any identification possible?"

"Of course not, I'm not a bloody idiot. No faces or anything."

"Are you thinking of blackmail—?"

"No," Bors admitted, "he hasn't mentioned a thing. If anything, he's gotten more polite since it went missing."

"Then—?"

"He's a dirty little thief, is what he is," Bors said gloomily, in the throes of loquacious alcoholic certainty. "Gets his kicks from it."

Harry's eyes narrowed fractionally. "I wasn't aware spies had recently gained the moral high ground to look down upon thieves."

Bors growled inarticulately.

Harry sighed. "I'll get it back for you, Bors. And if we still had an HR department, rest assured I would have sent Galahad to some training seminar of some kind. For now— er— I would advise you to be a bit more discreet in your— affections."

Bors looked righteously indignant. "It's the only picture I have to remind me of her. It was from Burma, 1971." He added wistfully, "I've never met a lovelier escort."

Harry placed a hand over his eyes. "I will never understand how a man of your unparalleled vices can simultaneously be such a incredibly uptight snob."

"Cognitive dissonance," Bors declared with false dignity, taking his leave and the cognac with him.

———

"Eggsy."

Eggsy took one look at Harry's stern face and meekly produced the offending photograph. "I never showed anyone else, swear down."

"Yes, I believe you," Harry sighed and slipped the object of Bors' consternation into his pocket. "And I realize this is the dull and expected question in these cases, but would you mind terribly telling me why?"

"I wanted to get to know him better," Eggsy said innocently. "I figured it was physically impossible for someone's head to be that far up their arse, and it had to be an act of some kind. Turns out he's not quite the dead fish he makes himself out to be, eh?"

Harry gave him a frosty look. "And it didn't occur to you to fraternize with your coworkers in a more traditional manner? Taking him out for a pint would have been too conventional for you?"

Eggsy snorted. "Like Bors would be caught dead in public with the likes of me. 'Sides," he said, more slowly, "I wanted to impress him."

Harry contemplated this answer, and then nodded. "It worked," he said drily. "Bors recognizes talent when it's stolen from under his nose. And if I may ask, how did you accomplish this impressive feat?"

"Ah-ah," Eggsy shook a finger at him. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

"A magician," Harry gave him a flat look. "Is that the slang these days for 'petty pilfering pickpocket'?"

Eggsy clutched dramatically at his breast. "A dagger through my heart," he said, not sounding the least bit hurt.

Harry tapped his foot pointedly.

Eggsy bargained, "How about a trade?"

Harry said suspiciously, "A trade. For?"

Eggsy said, "I'll tell you, in exchange for— for a da— er—" Uncharacteristically, Eggsy stumbled on his words. Harry raised his eyebrows for what felt like the umpteenth time that day.

"—in exchange for a daiquiri mixing lesson," Eggsy finished, a bit weakly.

Harry relaxed. "I would have given you one anyway, if you'd just asked."

"Oh," said Eggsy, looking as if he were cursing himself about something. As always, however, he recovered with his usual aplomb, and gave Harry a obsequious bow. "Your graciousness exceeds itself, Your Majesty."

"Will you stop calling me that!" Harry shouted after the fleeing figure.

Chapter Text

Harry couldn't precisely pinpoint when or how it had started happening, but at some point in time, Eggsy had apparently taken a very liberal interpretation of 'open office hours', and began spending his free time, when not training, on missions, or sleeping, in Harry's office. He was sometimes content to quietly read or fiddle about with his tablet. Most often, though, he would talk. For example:

"Harry," Eggsy would say. "How's Pellinore doing?"

"His physical therapy sessions are progressing excellently," Harry would reply.

"That's good," Eggsy seemed satisfied, and would return to his book.

Or:

"Harry, what did Tristan report about me in our last mission?"

"Tristan gave you a very effusive review," Harry noted.

"Yeah? What'd he say?"

"He said, and I quote, 'Despite his efforts to appear as such, Galahad is not quite the magnificent ass he makes himself out to be'," Harry recited.

Eggsy, from all outward appearances, appeared to be consummately pleased with this news.

"And how are things going between you and Bors? I trust that little affair was cleared up?"

"Oh, Bors," Eggsy brightened up. "We're fast friends these days. The other day I asked him for recommendations on the best brothels in Amsterdam, and he told me to sod off, but," he said triumphantly, "he handed me a piece of paper later with three addresses written on them. You know, I think we've truly developed an Understanding."

Harry opened his mouth.

Harry closed his mouth.

"I'm glad to hear you're making friends on the job," he said at last.

———

"Harry," said Eggsy.

"Yes?"

"Sometimes I wonder — how come you let me speak to you the way I do?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You mean with total and utter disrespect, not to mention with flagrant flagellation of the English language?"

"Yep," Eggsy stabbed a finger in his general direction. "Lancelot's bloody terrified of you, Bors has this weird love/hate thing going on, Erec is adamant you're a vampire, and well, even Merlin calls you sir."

Harry raised another eyebrow. "You call me sire," he pointed out.

"Yes, but it's irony. It's ironical," Eggsy protested.

"Hmm," Harry leaned back in his chair, taking a much-needed break from a cost/benefit analysis on restaffing their Berlin branch. "I suppose it's because it's rather refreshing to have someone talk to me like a human being. Like a— like a friend."

Eggsy considered this at length.

"Nah, I always considered you more cyborg than full on human being, to be honest with you," he said at last. "Especially with the new eye, you really have this Terminator thing going —"

"Or perhaps I tolerate it because it's some unknown deity's way of testing my patience and keeping me humble," Harry narrowed said eye.

Eggsy grinned. "I think it's because you like me," he said innocently.

"Hmm," Harry grunted dubiously. "Don't let it get around."

———

"I have to wonder," Harry said, not without some exasperation, as Eggsy bounded into his office after a particular trying day with the expense reports, "do the other agents not speculate on why you feel so at home in my office?"

"Yep," said Eggsy cheerfully, not missing a beat. "I tell 'em I'm shagging you."

Harry looked up at the ceiling and prayed.

———

"Do you ever get — nightmares, Harry?" Eggsy had asked once, rather more soberly than normal.

Harry looked up, vaguely aware of the meaning lurking behind the question, and recalled that Eggsy's last mission in Argentina had not gone without casualties.

"Of course," he finally responded, simply. "All the time."

Eggsy thought this over for a while. "Yeah, makes sense," he said at last, brightening up. "Thanks, Your Majesty."

Harry, not for the first time, marvelled at how a single man could so constantly be full of surprises. "You're welcome. And stop calling me that."

They went peacefully back to their respective tasks.

———

"Harry," said a quiet voice, "Harry, wake up."

Harry cracked open a bleary, crusted eye, horrified to discover the large puddle of drool on his tablet screen. He swiped ineffectively at the mess, then looked even at his hand with even more disgust.

"Never mind, it'll keep," Eggsy said. "Come on, Harry, it's gone two in the morning. Let's get you to your posh suite, alright?"

"The background checks for the Kay recruits —" Harry argued feebly.

"— will keep, Harry. Come on, or I'm telling Mummy Merlin," Eggsy threatened.

Harry blanched. "Alright, then," he murmured, as Eggsy helped him to his feet.

———

And finally:

"Harry," Eggsy said one day, while Harry was deep in a report about weapons smuggling in Ukraine. "I really fancy you."

"Mmm-hmm," Harry responded, flipping to another chapter about airline safety standards in Indonesia.

"If I had to say it," Eggsy mused, slightly put out, "I would, in fact, say that I am deeply, wildly, and madly in love with you."

"That's very good, Eggsy," Harry said absentmindedly, scrawling his signature at the bottom of the paper.

Eggsy sighed. "Sometimes, I might think you don't listen to a word I say."

"I'm immensely glad to hear it," Harry said, as he opened Merlin's debrief on a chemical explosion in China and patted Eggsy's hand.

Eggsy looked defeated and sloped off towards the door. "I'll be at the range, if you need me," he called out, glumly.

"See you later, Eggsy," Harry said, not looking up from his paperwork. "By the way, if you intend on courting me properly, do be aware that I prefer my steak medium-rare with white, not red, wine."

This time, it was Eggsy who was left gaping as the doors swung shut in his face.

Chapter Text

Eggsy was looking anxiously at Harry. It was enormously endearing, if Harry was being completely truthful with himself, which he normally wasn't.

"I mean, just look at the tablecloth, even," Eggsy was saying fretfully. "The thread count on this thing— my God, it's like my legs are being sexually harassed with silk. I'm fairly sure the tablecloth cost more than my first car—"

"Eggsy," said Harry firmly, putting a hand over his. "It's a lovely tablecloth, and it's a lovely restaurant. I like it very much."

"I was worried it wasn't posh enough for your tastes," he admitted, relieved.

"Really, Eggsy, I would have been just as happy at a pub," said Harry. "This is more appropriate, of course," he amended hastily, at Eggsy's crestfallen expression, "for a special occasion."

"Is this a special occasion?" Eggsy said hopefully.

"Very special," Harry squeezed his hand.

Eggsy looked at him with utter adoration.

"Special enough for a kiss, after?" he ventured.

"After the Tokay," Harry promised. "No tongue until the second date, however."

Eggsy went beet red.

———

If Eggsy had wondered how Harry would act during work hours, his question was quickly answered: exactly the same. Not that he had expected an outburst of tender endearments — Harry could hardly be accused of being demonstrative — but nevertheless, it galled him to not have some acknowledgement of the situation.

The fabled second date was also a bit of a question mark. Eggsy, unfortunately, had to ship off immediately on a three week assignment to Romania, and Harry had since been quite occupied with the new batch of Ywain recruits.

All in all, it was a most unsatisfactory state of affairs. In fact, when it came down to it — Eggsy wasn't even quite sure they were fully dating. He was sure they were doing something, and it was possibly dating. He was inordinately afraid, however, that the whole thing might collapse if he pushed the issue too much with Harry. It was, in fact, a Schrödinger's relationship.

For once, Eggsy's normal approach of absolute directness failed him. So he went about the matter in the only way he knew how.

———

"Eggsy, I need you for something."

"Yes, Your Highness?"

Harry swivelled round in his chair and beckoned. Obediently, Eggsy drew closer.

"Look at my arms," Harry raised said appendages for inspection. Eggsy gave them a once-over, rather mystified.

"They're very nice arms. What—?"

"Do they look particularly feathered to you, Eggsy? Am I growing wings?"

"Er—"

"How about my face, Eggsy? Is it assuming a beak-like countenance?"

"Not as such—"

"Then why, Eggsy," Harry said, flicking a small object in his direction, "do I appear to be accumulating what I can only think of as bowerbird tendencies?"

Eggsy caught the item adroitly and examined it. "It's... a packet of tea," he said dubiously.

"I know what it is, we both know what it is, and you especially know what it is since you put it in my pocket," Harry fumbled around in his desk drawers. "As well as this, and this!" Each accusation was accompanied by a hurled projectile.

"A novelty pencil... and a refrigerator magnet?" Eggsy looked quizzically at the trinkets in his palms. "You sure you ain't going a bit non compos mentis, Harry?"

Harry simply folded his arms and glared.

Eggsy returned his stare guilelessly for almost a full twenty seconds before finally cracking into a laugh.

"Alright, alright," he held his hands in the air. "I confess."

Harry cranked up the ferocity of his glare.

"I didn't mean no harm, I was just picking up souvenirs while travelling, that's all. An' I thought you might like them, y'know, sort of like your newspaper clippings and that," Eggsy shrugged, his casual air betrayed only by a light pinkness in his cheeks.

Harry pinched his nose. "For the sake of my blood pressure, kindly refrain from referring to top-secret international missions as if you were traipsing around the countryside on a sight-seeing holiday, Galahad."

Eggsy grinned. "Except the packet of tea, that was me stoppin' by the shops yesterday. Thought you might like the flavor, s'all."

Harry leaned back in his chair with a sigh, although his expression softened. "Far be it for me to deny you the pleasure of— of reverse pick-pocketing me, but I'll have you know that a traditional bouquet of flowers would have worked just as well to attract my attentions."

Eggsy coughed bashfully. "Look in the secret compartment of your middle desk drawer."

Harry carefully manoeuvred open said drawer. Inside lay a card with a rose pressed to it. Harry considered it for quite a while.

"Eggsy," he said at last, "give me back my souvenirs. And now— come here, you incredible creature," he pulled Eggsy towards him by the tie.

The next few minutes contained a very busy and involved lack of conversation. Quite unfortunately, it was loudly interrupted by a knock at the door.

The two men sprang apart guiltily. As Merlin strode in, Harry coughed and shuffled his paperwork while Eggsy hastily straightened his tie.

"Arthur, Erec is requesting an urgent —" Merlin finally looked up from his tablet, and paused to take in the scene. His suspicious gaze took him from an overly flushed Eggsy, to Harry, whose glasses were slightly askew. His mouth dropped open.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," his stylus pointed accusingly at Eggsy. "I thought you were taking the piss when you said you were shagging!"

"Nobody ever believes me when I tell the truth," Eggsy said virtuously.

"As for you," Merlin swung to Harry, "Eggsy?"

"Oi," said the person in question.

"He grew on me," Harry said, feigning nonchalance.

Merlin considered this. "Yes— yes, I can see that. Rather like a fungus."

"Oi, I'm right bloody here."

"Yes, you are, lad," Merlin said, his eyes gleaming. "As such, I'm requisitioning you to run extraction on Erec. Hop to it, you're due on a plane to Bombay in twenty minutes. No objections, sir?" he added to Harry, with a hint of maliciousness.

Harry had sudden flashbacks to the time Merlin had almost stabbed him in the eye. "No, Merlin," he said meekly.

"I've bloody well got objections," Eggsy said. "We were right in the middle of—"

"It's for the good of the Table, laddie," Merlin said firmly, as he ushered him out the door. "Which I don't want to think of the two of you desecrating—"

"We haven't even—"

"I don't want to think about it, I said!"

Chapter Text

Harry was, for a pleasant change, outside his office. He was currently and happily spending his tea break overlooking the Kingsmen hangar, arguing quietly yet ferociously with Bors about the best way to emergency crash land a Cessna 525.

The discussion had so far amiably progressed to a volley of civilly exchanged insults, the latest of which was "pretentious poppycock pilot" and "arsing amateur aviator", when the shuttle doors slid open.

Out limped Eggsy, one arm thrown over Lancelot, suit jacket draped over his shoulder, just barely failing to conceal the smears of blood.

"Galahad? What the hell happened?" Harry turned around sharply.

Eggsy's head snapped up, his eyes widening briefly at the sight of Harry before his face slid into its usual cocky smile.

"Arthur," he cried dramatically, stretching a hand out, "my love! Come to me, let me swoon into your strong and muscular arms. Well, one arm that's very muscular anyway, we both know what from."

Bors made a polite retching noise in his throat.

Harry glared at him and said, "Prague, 1989."

Bors shut up immediately.

Sighing, Harry turned to Eggsy with trace concern. "Your injuries?"

Eggsy clasped a hand to his breast. "Mortal," he declared mournfully. "I'm bleeding out even now, for love of Queen and country. Please award me a posthumous medal of some sort, or I would also accept seven days paid vacation in Geneva instead."

Bors, apparently only temporarily silenced, snorted loudly. "Seven days? For a nosebleed?"

Eggsy's head whipped towards Bors. "I am hideously and fatally wounded," he said, sounding outraged.

Harry sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. "Galahad, I happen to know your mission was only gathering intel on the possibility of an illegal dog-fighting ring in north London. Pray tell, then, what you were doing that would lead to information being so bloody dangerous?"

"Nothing," Eggsy replied evasively. "But the latest intel is that the dog-fighting ring mysteriously broke up! No ring, no problem, right?"

Lancelot, who had been shooting Eggsy multiple indecipherable looks, finally spoke up at this point. "Arthur," she hedged, "I really ought to to get Galahad to—"

Bors flapped a languid hand at them. "Oh, really, Lancelot, there's no need to rush the boy to Medical on account of a few chicken scratches—"

It was at this point that Eggsy slipped unceremoniously from Lancelot's grasp and hit the floor with a faint, uttered, "shit".

As the shouting and his vision faded away, the last thing he saw, dimly, was a pair of oxfords running towards him.

———

"Three cracked ribs, a bullet through the shoulder, and a dog bite on his right calf that required seven stitches," Merlin sighed, scrawling something on a clipboard.

"And the idiot still had time for a soliloquy in the hallway," Bors muttered in disgust.

Lancelot flew to Eggsy's defence. "He was trying not to alarm anyone, Bors, and he would have been fine without you egging things along."

Bors had the decency to look ashamed. "Well, how was I to know he'd suddenly grown a toss about our blushing sensibilities?"

"He doesn't give a damn about your feelings, Bors. He only cares about Arthur," she hissed, before checking herself, and turned to Harry. "Sir. I apologise."

On the hospital bed, Eggsy stirred.

"Merlin, Bors, Lancelot," Harry finally spoke. "Could you please leave us?"

The Kingsmen fled hastily from the room. As the door closed slowly and pneumatically, Harry caught the very tail end of them saying:

"Well, he's in for it now—"

"Shut up, Bors—"

"—really don't know anything, do you, Bors—"

Harry sighed deeply.

For a while, there was no sound but the inhale and exhale of Eggsy's laboured breaths.

"Nobody ever believes me when I tell the truth," he said at last, his voice rusty.

Harry simply snorted without responding.

"Sometimes," Eggsy sounded faintly apologetic, "the best way to get what you want is to ask for the opposite of it."

"How very... Brer Rabbit of you," Harry said.

Eggsy chuckled. "'Please don't fling me in that brier-bush!'"

"You remind me very much of the character."

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Of a rabbit?"

"No, of a trickster. Or a joker, if you will. Sometimes I think you would laugh at your own funeral."

"That would be the best time, innit?" he responded glibly, earning another snort from Harry.

"Go back to sleep. You need rest."

"Isn't your office more comfortable?"

"I'm fine right here," said Harry.

———

Harry looked down at the tousle of hair, the bruised cheeks, the strong jawline and the delicate eyelashes that all came together to form the boy known as Eggsy, and wondered exactly when he had — not fallen — but grown to love this infuriating being, so full of false swagger that fooled you while his light fingers broke past all your defences and stole your heart.

He became aware that Eggsy's eyes had opened and were looking back into his. There was an unfamiliar expression on his face, one that he suddenly recognized as fear.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, alarmed.

For a while, Eggsy said nothing.

"Tell me," he spoke finally, lowly and painfully, "tell me you don't regret choosing me to be your candidate. Tell me you won't sack me from Kingsmen for being a disgrace. Tell me," his eyes fluttered shut, "that you aren't making a mistake."

Harry was absolutely still for a moment, and then said, "I don't, I won't, and I am not."

He took Eggsy's hand in his. "I love your recklessness," he kissed the hand, gently, "I love your thieving fingers, and I love —" he finished, kissing Eggsy on the lips, "— every single one of your ludicrous lies."

Eggsy exhaled deeply. "So you love me."

"I am quite fond of you," Harry murmured in his most typically understated manner.

"And I love you," Eggsy said matter-of-factly.

"It would appear that way," Harry was forced to admit.

Eggsy looked up at him, trying not to smile so hard that it hurt.

"My king," he said.

"My thief," replied Harry, kissing him again.

Chapter Text

"I need a favour, Eggsy."

Eggsy blinked owlishly. "You — Arthur, the head of an international spy organization — need a favour," he repeated slowly.

"Yes, thank you for the accurate summary," Harry responded rather testily.

Eggsy shrugged and put down his book. "I hear and obey, Your Majesty."

"Stop calling me that," Harry said automatically before continuing, "I need you to smuggle me on your next mission and — why are you jumping out the window like that?"

Harry dove after Eggsy's leg. There was a brief tussle which resulted in the window being slammed shut on Eggsy's fingers, and Eggsy kicking Harry gently in the shins.

"You're mental. Merlin will have our guts for garters if I help you!" Eggsy shouted.

"Just one mission," said Harry, looking so woeful as he clung to Eggsy's trousers that Eggsy almost stopped kicking him. "It's been weeks since I've shot a gun, Eggsy. I swear, if I have to sign off on one more report in triplicate, I'm strangling myself with my own tie."

"Don't do that," said Eggsy, alarmed. "Those ties cost three hundred quid apiece."

Harry maintained his sorrowful expression for a few more seconds, before snorting a laugh. "Alright, maybe not," he sighed. "But I might start taking potshots at the pigeons on the rooftop. Eggsy, please. Think of the pigeons?"

Eggsy sat up a little straighter, adopting an indignant expression. "Harry, you brought me into Kingsmen to reform my character, and I sit before you a reformed character. I ask you, is this becoming of a king and a knight of the Round Table? Would a gentleman engage in subterfuge of this manner?"

Harry paused to consider this, looked suitably grave and impressed. He said at last, "I can't believe you managed to say all that with a straight face."

"Yes, that was actually more challenging than the time I fought through a mountain full of men with automatic weapons," Eggsy admitted. "Harry — you know Arthur doesn't go out into the field."

"Arthur doesn't do this, Arthur doesn't do that," Harry said crossly. "Arthur is a crippled old has-been who's going to wilt away from boredom and crabbiness."

Eggsy threw his hands up in the air. "You're guilting me. Stop guilting me!"

"Would bribery work better than guilt?" Harry purred persuasively. "Perhaps you would rather an offer of a week of unlimited sexual favours?"

Eggsy mouth opened and shut convulsively.

"Two weeks," he said hoarsely.

"Eight days," Harry responded immediately.

"Ten days, and you wear a monocle the whole time."

Harry hesitated for only a fraction of a second. "Done."

Eggsy covered his face with a hand. "Shit. Fuck. I didn't think you'd agree to that."

Harry beamed like a child on Christmas morning.

———

"This is mental," Eggsy muttered again, inserting the pry bar into the ventilator grille. "Merlin's going to skin you alive and wear you like a coat. Then he's going to disembowel me and wear my intestines as a scarf."

"Come now, Eggsy," Harry cajoled. "Surely two of the most highly trained spies in London can outwit a single bald Scottish man, who, incidentally, mostly wears woolly jumpers?"

"No, they can't, not when that man is Merlin," Eggsy hissed. "Remember the time he almost stabbed your eye out with a pen?"

"He would have replaced it," Harry protested.

Eggsy made a soft keening noise. "You're insane. I'm dating an insane man," he lamented in utter despair. Harry opened his mouth to frame a retort when Merlin's voice interrupted abruptly.

"Galahad, is everything alright? You're being very quiet today."

Eggsy jolted violently, fumbling the pry bar as he hurried to unmute his comms. Harry gracefully caught the arcing object inches before it clanged to the ground.

"Just fine, thanks Merlin," Eggsy answered quickly. "Bit tired out from all the sex I had with Harry last night, though— you know how it is when the—"

"Oh God, please stop," Merlin groaned. Eggsy couldn't quite tell if the horror in his voice was genuine. "I'm sorry I asked. Ping me later if you run into trouble. Security cameras have been remotely disabled, no need to shoot them out."

Eggsy breathed a sigh of relief as he tapped his glasses again to re-mute. Harry, one eyebrow raised, handed him the pry bar with the short comment, "Effective."

With another heave, and a metallic groan of protest, the grille was finally pried open just enough to admit a man.

"Remember: behind me at all times," Eggsy hissed, slipping into the shaft. Obediently, Harry waited a breath before crawling in after him.

"And another thing," Eggsy continued fiercely, his voice echoing behind him, "This is a just an espionage mission, yeah? We get in, we plug in Merlin's USB drive, we retrieve the data, and we get out. This is just some small third-party contractor that does payroll for the company we're really nosing about. No shoot-outs and no fancy stuff, right?"

"I did assign you this mission, Galahad," Harry said, unruffled. "Also, I'm well aware of your normal approach to 'intel-only' missions." He slotted the quotation marks in with all the irony they deserved.

Eggsy paused to pray to all the gods he could think of, and also to let the patrol underneath pass by. "I'm serious, Harry." As the footsteps faded away, he began carefully unscrewing a panel before him.

"To be frank, I'm amazed," Harry looked amused. "I wouldn't have guessed you were capable of taking anything this seriously."

"I take you seriously," Eggsy retorted, disappearing down into the room below.

Harry was momentarily touched. He dropped nimbly feet-first through the hole, in time to see Eggsy with his ear pressed against a heavy door.

"Besides," Eggsy added, delicately feeding a pick into the lock, "if something happened to you on this mission, and Merlin didn't murder me because of it, that'd mean Bors would be the new Arthur, and God knows I wouldn't be able get away with shagging him."

Harry looked far less amused.

Eggsy was frowning as he fruitlessly rattled the handle. "I think there's some kind of electronic deadbolt behind this."

"Can I see?" Harry asked, moving forward slightly.

Eggsy flapped an urgent hand at him. "Merlin will see you through my feed," he hissed. Harry backed away, both hands raised in apology.

"Galahad," Merlin's voice broke over the comms, "If you're having trouble with this type of lock, you can ask Arthur to help you."

Eggsy froze.

"Arthur? Arthur's probably swigging bourbon while cuddling his stuffed dead dog. How can Arthur help me?" Eggsy's voice was practically a squeak by the end of the sentence.

"Well," Merlin said, sounding extremely bored, "Since he's standing less than three feet behind you, and since I equipped him with an EMP weapon, he could probably deactivate the lock for you."

As if his muscles had turned to stone, Eggsy turned very, very slowly to look at Harry.

Harry was looking up at the ceiling, trying to whistle and bite his lower lip and not grin all at the same time.

Without a word, Eggsy shuffled aside. Harry stepped forward and deftly planted the device; in seconds, the door swung open effortlessly. In continued silence, they trooped towards a sleeping array of computer terminals. Eggsy mutely sat down at one, hacked past the login screen and plugged in the USB drive.

It wasn't until the Merlin was merrily clacking away at the keyboard that Eggsy finally leaned towards Harry and said, with all the heavy accusation of a child who's been told Santa isn't real:

"You tricked me."

Harry gave him a look of such overdone astonishment that Eggsy nearly shot him. "Me?"

"I was sweating my bollocks off the whole time and you tricked me," Eggsy repeated, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You could have just said you were coming along on a mission. You didn't have to bribe me. You could have told me Merlin already knew!"

Harry grinned. "Yes, but this was more fun, wasn't it?"

It was quite possible that Eggsy would have strangled Harry at this point if a dozen lights hadn't slammed on and an alarm hadn't started blaring.

"Shit," said Merlin at the same time Harry said, "Merlin, what the hell?"

"I tripped something," Merlin said, sounding frustrated. "Eggsy, grab the thumb drive. No time to go back the way you came — take the lift to the car park. And watch out, an armed security team is on the move."

"This is a fucking payroll company — what the hell are they doing with full security?" Eggsy complained, vaulting over a series of desks.

"It's apparently a payroll company that works almost exclusively with military contractors," Merlin said, still typing furiously.

"Take point, I'll cover your six," Eggsy ordered Harry brusquely. Backs to each other and guns raised, they made their way cautiously to the lobby.

"I still can't believe—" Eggsy began when a guard tentatively poked his head around the corner. Eggsy fired a warning shot two inches to the left. Drywall sprayed. The head retreated hurriedly.

"I still can't believe, Harry, that you lied to me," Eggsy continued sadly, reloading a shotgun shell. "I used to think you were such an upstanding and noble man. I used to look up to you, Harry."

Harry snorted. "And I used to think you were adorable and unspoiled. When you were five."

"Don't lie to yourself," Eggsy replied, stepping into the lift and punching the L1 button. "You still think I'm adorable."

"Adorable is such a strong word," Harry said demurely. "How about diminutive or fun-sized instead?"

"Fun-sized?" Eggsy spluttered. "You're only two inches taller, you absolute prick— oh, fuck."

The lift doors had slid open to reveal a squadron of guards, who greeted them promptly and heartily with a volley of gunfire. Harry and Eggsy simultaneously dove for cover.

"Two inches can be a lot in certain areas!" Harry howled over the hailstorm of bullets.

"Are you really making dick jokes in the middle of a firefight?" Eggsy bawled at the top of his lungs.

"Well, what else would you like to do?" Harry bellowed. Behind them, the lift wall was beginning to bear a strong resemblance to Swiss cheese.

Eggsy looked at Harry.

Harry looked at Eggsy.

Both men were trying not to grin.

Harry was just a little bit faster, already on his feet and taking off, one arm covering his face. Shouts of alarm rose as shots glanced off his suit, but they were too late, far too late. He barrelled into the squadron not unlike a lethal bowling ball introducing itself to so many hapless pins. Yells of pain to his right told him Eggsy hadn't been far behind.

Time seemed to slow to a dreamlike crawl. All worries, all thoughts, all fears faded away. Nothing existed, nothing mattered, except for the blood pumping through his veins and the feral grin stretching across his teeth.

Here, a fist came arcing at him. Harry sidestepped, caught it, bent its corresponding elbow backwards. A delivered punch to the solar plexus and then temple ensured unconsciousness.

There, another fist. This one could be used: he rolled with it, let it glance off his cheek, followed the owner's momentum and velocity to throw him bodily to the ground.

Farther away, a guard at the edge of the fray was taking aim. Harry stepped behind one of his teammates and held up his watch. The man hesitated just a fraction of a second too long, then collapsed as the dart struck skin. Harry tasered the man he'd used as a shield with his signet ring as a thank-you.

A closer guard made a clumsy grab at him. Harry stepped into it, took hold of his shoulders and jammed downwards, introducing his forehead to Harry's bent knee. As the man collapsed, Harry heard the footfall behind him and ducked as the swing went wild. He pivoted around, punching the man's legs out from under him. As he fell, Harry administered a swift blow to the head.

One brave if slightly suicidal guard got back up, weaving drunkenly. Harry kindly put him out of his misery with a solid hook between the eyes. The man groaned and toppled, joining the rest of his team; any others who weren't knocked out were, perhaps wisely, pretending to be so.

Harry rolled his shoulders, shook out his cuffs, and exhaled deeply.

"I needed that," he said.

He turned to see Eggsy, surrounded by his own smaller pile of unconscious bodies, looking at him with flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips. Temptation as well as a healthy dose of adrenaline and endorphins overtook his body. In two strides he was at the boy's side and pulling him into a rather rough kiss.

"You are fucking magnificent," Eggsy murmured into his mouth.

"Yes, I know," Harry said between breaths.

"Galahad, Arthur, there's a second team arriving in fifteen minutes," Merlin interrupted, extremely rudely in Harry's opinion.

He sighed melodramatically and broke the embrace. "No rest for the wicked."

Eggsy stooped, rummaged, and held up a dangling keyring from one of the prone bodies. "What say you and I get out of here and continue our wicked ways somewhere else?" Winking, he tossed Harry a car fob.

"I'd say it's a date," Harry snatched the keys out of the air.

———

"Eggsy, this is a fucking Prius."

"Shit."

———

"...whereupon we absconded in a Prius, returned to the plane, and flew back to HQ," Harry recited rather stonily.

Merlin swivelled around and gave Eggsy a look. "A Prius?"

"How the fuck was I supposed to know for-hire security guards give a shit about their fuel efficiency?" Eggsy protested.

"In any case," Merlin said, going back to his clipboard, "We got the information we wanted and we know we're on the right track. Well done, the both of you. Get some rest."

"You go ahead, Eggsy, I need to clear a few things with Merlin first," Harry said, giving Eggsy a brief peck on the cheek.

"My ten days—" Eggsy began.

"Will start once we walk out that door," Harry promised.

"I'll get your monocle ready," Eggsy blew Harry a kiss as the door swung shut.

"Do I want to know?" Merlin asked, not looking up from his work.

"No," said Harry. "But there's something I want to know, Merlin." He folded his arms in an exaggerated movement and stared the man down. He said, deliberately enunciating every syllable, "You 'tripped something'?"

Merlin looked up slowly, meeting his gaze with the bland expression of an expert liar. "I have no idea what you're insinuating."

"I'm insinuating that you, Merlin, would have to be dead, or mentally reverted to the age of five years old, as well as falling over drunk, to have quote unquote tripped something."

Merlin paused, as if examining some imaginary point in the distance, before speaking.

"You know, Harry, in some ways Eggsy and I are quite alike."

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically.

"We both do what we can," Merlin said, turning away to hide his smile, "to keep our king amused."