#wrongalahad

1. he’s exhausted. exhausted and angry because nothing went according to plan. his left side hurts like a bitch and he’s pretty sure one of his ribs his fractured. worst part isn’t the wheezing, though, isn’t the fact that he can barely feel his fingers, it’s   unwin   blabbing on about how they were supposed to have been picked up ten, twenty, thirty, fourty-five minutes ago. he’s leaning against the fence, eyes closed and trying to breathe without feeling like he is gonna faint and he    considers    asking merlin if he can get a big fat raise for dealing with this. for not strangling the boy just to make him   shut the fuck up   ––– and he knows it’s not on him, knows it’s not eggsy’s fault all of this went tits up ( in fact, it was charlie. it was charlie and his fucking need to be heroic, to somehow proof himself and handle something on his own he   knew    the other agent was better suited for … ). truth is, he appreciates that eggsy isn’t rubbing it in his face, doesn’t know if it’s out of the kindness of his heart or just because he’s too caught up in his anger fueled tirade about kingsman. he opens his eyes to blink at the sky, once and then again - finds himself wondering if it’s going to rain. that would be just his luck. but instead he just groans, turns to look at the other agent and bends ( even though it fucking stings ).  “you worry to much, eggy.”  the smirk on his lips is sly and wry, the angle uncomfortable but what’s a little more pain, really ?! it’s a quick peck on his nose, hand he isn’t putting his weight on coming up to pinch the other agent’s cheek.  “we’re done - mission accomplished, now stop bitching and let’s get back to hq.   with that, he manages to push himself up, suppresses the gasp and just takes a moment to breathe, to re-calibrate. unwin might not be the   worst   partner there is. he’s still gonna request that raise.

2. “would you fuckin’   WATCH IT  ?!”  he tries to withdraw his hand, wriggle it out of eggsy’s grip, a comment sitting at the tip of his tongue how he doesn’t want to lose that arm as well. but unwin, being the obnoxious pain in the ass that he is, doesn’t let him. holds on tight and just glares at him - the look on his face enough to actually shut charlie up, for once  ( a goddamn miracle, the grip he has on him - he’s not talking about the hand ). he knows he’s being a baby about this, that it really isn’t that bad. gash oozing blood but the damage seems to be surface level only. the first aid kit is absolute and utter shit - or maybe unwin just sucks at being a nurse ( or maybe charlie sucks at being a patient ) but he pours a generous amount of disinfectant over the wound almost making charlie yelp. the antiseptic wipe pressed against the deep cut and a subtle twitch of unwins lips.  “what? you think this is funny?”  he doesn’t answer until he’s butting bandages on his arm ( too fuckin’ tight, unwin! ) but the smirk doesn’t falter.  “yeah. a little bit.”  and the cheeky retort sitting at the tip of his tongue is cut off by unwin pressing down against the wound, looking smug and very punchable. “all done - want me to give ya a kiss t’ make it better ?”  brow raised, a challenging look on his face …  charlie can’t believe he’s ever thought the boy to be innocent or soft. and despite the heat rushing to his cheeks he almost growls out a “fuckin’ DARE YOU.”    ––––  just turns out eggsy’s never been one to step away from a challenge and before he knows it, lips are pressed against a bandaged hand. not so much a kiss as just the young agent pressing a shit eating grin against charlie’s covered skin, but still. he only withdraws his hand ( a little too late ) after eggsy mutters a “m’ lady.” against the fabric and laughs. 

3. training just got tough. not like the water test wasn’t - not like the sparring and tinkering and written tests weren’t tough but this was next level. they are all aching, all exhausted. he can see it on roxy’s face, can feel it in the way his own voice somehow sounds too far away, off, like he is about to drift to sleep any second now. and eggsy? eggsy is out cold against his side, his head on his shoulder - not intentionally, it happened about two road bumps ago and neither he nor roxy mentioned it though he   knows   it raises questions on her part. like why he isn’t shoving eggsy away, why he lets him do this, why he doesn’t seem to mind unwin drooling on his shoulder. but there are a few cuts on the boy’s face, there’s ashes in his hair and despite this just being training? he almost feels his chest swell with bride when he thinks about how seemingly effortless eggsy’s handled that. he assumes the whole thing was designed to test how well they behave under pressure, in danger. and while he, himself, didn’t hesitate to get into the burning room, it was   eggsy   who stayed in control of the situation. no wonder he is knackered now.  –– it’s something he doesn’t care about with roxy, something he doesn’t mention. though he doubts she is buying it for even one second, the now fake animosity between the two. with rufus and digby still present, maybe it was believable. but there is no way roxy doesn’t   know  what’s going on, doesn’t know about them sneaking off at night, doesn’t see the way he sometimes looks at eggsy …  so he inhales, stares blankly ahead but focusses on the weight against his side.  “i’m worried about him.”  it’s whispered even though there’s no doubt in his mind eggsy is not going to wake up for at least a day and a half.  “rox - he’s not cut out for this.”  ironic, considering he beat him at almost every test. but he isn’t spy material. he’s watched them. merlin, galahad, arthur. they are all fucking miserable, they are lonely, they are reckless and unlikable. not him, though. not eggsy. “i don’t know what this is gonna do to him and i’m worried.”  when he looks at her, he sees something akin to pity in her eyes. for eggsy, maybe. or maybe for charlie - because he’s dangerously close to turning this into something he can not just walk away from and somehow he feels like she can tell. it’s a tidal wave of emotions he isn’t prepared for, has to blink so he doesn’t tear up and instead ends up pressing his face into eggsy’s hair. it smells like fire, like dirt and shampoo. he presses his lips against the crown of the boys head and inhales, squeezes his eyes shut and prays that roxy will beat them both.

4. considering that they’ve been doing this for so long, it really shouldn’t hit him so hard that he is in love with eggsy unwin. the amount of times he’s had the boy underneath him, begging and gasping and very naked …  it’s hardly a surprise, really, that eventually charlie got attached. because he’s stupid like that - can’t stick to his own rules. he remembers his father talking to him about order, about following them, about how if you don’t, chaos erupts. and as much as he loathes the man, he can’t help but feel that he might be right when he’s lying there looking at a sleeping eggsy, feeling every inch of his body ache for him. he wants to reach out, wants to touch - his fingers twitching, desperate to run through dirty blonde hair, dance over his spine to press into his lower back. he looks so peaceful like that, so pretty –––– he wonders if he’s aware of it. yeah, eggsy jokes about it a lot, about how he’s hot and how he has the “finest ass in all of london” (probably not even wrong) but charlie wonders if he knows how truly beautiful he is. he looks soft like that, innocent and he can feel his heart contracting in his chest, hurting, beating faster and then not at all …  this stopped being just sex when he’s had his first panic attack and eggsy asked if he was okay. this started being love in this very moment. eggsy stirs and charlie almost chuckles. maybe he’s a mindreader, maybe the boy is aware of what is happening right next to him, knows that charlie is having a small crises over how badly he wants to kiss him. when eggsy opens his eyes, groans and presses his face back into the pillow only to turn and look at charlie seconds later, he does just that. he leans in without a word, not a care for morning breath or the fact that their kisses are usually heated, needy, desperate. and   DESPERATE   is what that one is, too. only it’s not lust that has him close his eyes and press against the boy, it’s not lust that makes him reach up to cup a sharp jaw, trace it with his fingertips. it’s the fact that he physically can not stop himself from doing it. this will backfire and he knows. because not following his own orders, orders in general, always backfires. it’s just that he doesn’t care that this is going to blow up in his face, tear him to pieces, hurt more than anything he’s ever had to endure. the boy will leave one day and move on and charlie will be left behind in pieces. doesn’t matter. he’s ridiculously in love with eggsy unwin.

THEY’RE BEYOND WASTED—  after all,  they’d just saved the world.  they’d  earned  it.  so of course,  penny had to take eggsy out for his first  line dance  to celebrate.  she’d drank more shots than she could remember,  opened a tab for them to share,  and danced with some  gorgeous  women,  but tonight wasn’t about getting lucky.  they’d already gotten lucky—  tonight was about them.

it’s nearly dawn when they stumble back into penny’s house,  practically carrying each other over the threshold in a fit of drunken laughter.  when they finally make it up to the master bedroom,  eggsy helps penny into bed.  she beckons him to join her before he can leave.

“ come snuggle with meeeee— ”  she whines,  sprawled out in the bed.  when he does so,  she rolls on top of him,  chin resting on his chest.  when he states his surprise at her not bringing anybody home  ( despite more than enough courting ),  she just laughs.  “ i brought  you  home. ”

pushing herself up to his level,  she presses her lips to his in a sloppy kiss.  it doesn’t last long before she rolls over in yet another giggle fit.  they definitely won’t remember that in the morning.

                                                               II.

penny doesn’t typically worry too much about eggsy—  he’s a grown adult,  fully capable of taking care of himself.  but she can’t help but notice just how  RECKLESS  he can get as of late.  for example,  getting  shot  when it was completely avoidable.  when she walks into sick bay,  the look on her face shows anything but sympathies—  no,  she’s  pissed.  as soon as she reaches his bedside,  she swats him on the back of the head.

“ you fuckin’  idiot, ”  she cusses,  jaw clenched until she sits on his bed.  looking at him all bandaged up  on his shoulder like that just made her feel plain  sorry  for the guy.  with a sigh,  she lets go of her anger & the fear she had of losing him,  and lays down with him.  “ be more careful next time.  please, ”  she mumbles,  pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.  she’ll be able to take him home soon.  for now she’ll just appreciate that he’s still alive.

                                                               III.

she’s two bottles deep in whiskey when eggsy gets home.  she wasn’t expecting him to be home so soon,  but here they are—  penny watching old home videos of her late fiancé,  alone in the dark,  feeling like all hope is lost.  there are dark bags under her eyes,  which are red & irritated from all the  crying.

the sudden opening of her bedroom door is enough to startle her,  and when eggsy enters,  she can only stare at him with a quivering lip.  “ you’re back early… ”  she croaks.  he’s at her side in a moment,  arms wrapped around her as she shakes with sobs.  “ why can’t i find something like that again?  why? ”

she wipes her eyes on her sleeve,  sniffling when she raises her head to look up at eggsy.  at least  he  loves her.  right?  before she understands what’s going on,  she grabs him by the collar,  liquor-flavoured lips colliding desperately with his in the hope that she might  feel  anything.  when she finally pulls back,  her face grows red.  “ i’m sorry… ”  she breathes.  green eyes well up with tears once more.  “ i’m such an idiot! ”

                                                              IV.

she can hear him from her bedroom.  it’s three am,  and she hasn’t slept yet either.  after their latest assignment,  she’s not sure she’ll be able to sleep for a while.  there were more  CIVILIAN DEATHS  than necessary,  something extremely rare for statesman or kingsman combined.  the sight made her sick to her stomach.  had they realized the  second bomb  just five minutes sooner…

there’s not a word as she enters the bathroom,  finding eggsy with his head in the toilet.  her face is riddled with sorrow.  slowly,  she takes a seat at his side,  brushing loose hair back out of his face as she reaches for a cloth from the sink cabinet.  she reaches up long enough to dampen in a bit before pressing it to his forehead.

“ c’mere, ”  she murmurs into his ear.  arms wrap comfortingly around his shoulders as she sits back against the cabinet,  pulling him against her chest.  there are so many things she wishes she could say—  that it’s okay  ( it’s not ),  that it’s part of the job  ( is it? ), or that they’re all at peace now…  but none of it is right.  the guilt is going to follow them for a while.  it’l  haunt their dreams,  wake them up in cold sweats with the images of  innocent families  floating around their brains…  but that’s just how it is.  silently,  she combs her fingers through his hair,  pressing soft kisses along his hairline.  it’s all she  can  do for now.