A suit is a modern gentleman's armor

Once Eggsy’s situated himself in his designated hiding spot the Scott flips the page on his tablet. It’s another mission in the middle east, one that can wait as he speaks to what any passerby would deem an empty room. 

❝ Need I remind ye GALAHAD is a trained operative… Not t’mention y’er suit’s tracking capabilities have doomed ye from d’start.  ❞

He glances down at the younger man, watching Eggsy put on a stronger front– as though Harry would ever hold it against the him that he’d had a moment of weakness. ‘Now’s not the time for emotion’, something ingrained in all of them, but it didn’t matter, not now at least. 

Harry’s hand slips from the top of Eggsy’s head, down to the boy’s chin; thumb wiping away at the streak of a tear that had fallen down his cheek. 

Without a second thought, Harry had bent at his hip, lowered his face enough as he tilted Eggsy’s chin upward, and placed a kiss upon the younger agent’s lips. It’s a gentle thing, even if it might not have been the most appropriate, but it lingers before his lips pull away.

“I’ll put the kettle on.”

Another gentle touch, another gesture Eggsy isn’t expecting. There’s no judgement for the dampness on his face, only the soft sweep of a thumb wiping it away. Eyes flutter shut, the younger finding himself leaning into the touch just that little bit more.

It’s only at the lifting of his chin that he opens his eyes again, curious what Harry needs him to raise his face for. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t the light kiss, lingering for a moment. Eggsy’s lips part in a quiet gasp, so completely caught off guard by the kiss. A kiss from Harry....he’s often thought on it, but more like one thinks of a distant want, not something actually obtainable. Eyes still shining a little from unshed tears, the young agent blinks up at Harry, cheeks faintly pink. 

He allows Eggsy this moment; shifting his hold on the first aid kit in favor of a free hand to place upon the younger agent’s head, letting fingertips gently card through Eggsy’s hair. The gesture is slow and tender and he doesn’t make to move away quite yet, nor does he disrupt the silence that had fallen between them.

That’ll be for Eggsy to decide.

There’s a growing anger settling in the pit of his stomach, one he should be ignoring, but one that’s directed at the unnamed man who’d put Eggsy in such a position. The man was scum and shouldn’t be worth Harry’s time, but perhaps he might pay the man a little visit.

For now, he continues his ministrations through the younger agent’s hair; blunt fingernails scratch lightly at Eggsy’s scalp in a comforting way, before simply letting his hand rest against the back of his protege’s head. 

The first touch of Harry’s hand has Eggsy’s lips parting, sucking in a little breath of surprise. It’s such a gentle touch, something truly rare for the young man to experience. So much of his life was filled with touches of a less than gentle nature that this is almost foreign to him. Still, he can’t help but lean into it a little more, shoulders drooping as he relaxes.

He sits back on his heels; the sigh pushing through his nose is more resignation than frustration. There’s a dip of his head to catch the younger agent’s gaze before his fingertips find Eggsy’s chin to tilt toward him. 

     “Your past is just that: the past. It isn’t meant to define, it’s meant to teach– learn and grow and move on from this experience so that if it happens again, you won’t be compromised.” His hand settles on Eggsy’s knee once more, but this time, it isn’t there to impose his point. 

Eggsy was right, he was too much of a gentleman.

He moves to stand, bending at his hip to clear away the first aid kit and refuse. “I’ll put the kettle on.” 

The hand to his chin startles him a little, a reluctant gaze meeting Harry’s. It feels too honest. Too open. Too revealing. Everything in Eggsy tells him to turn his gaze away, break eye contact to protect himself. Yet he resists.

Oddly enough, Harry’s words make him feel all the more weak, vulnerable and open. It’s something he’d always hoped to hear, yet actually hearing it....Eggsy’s eyes may be shining a bit more than he’d like. There’s a lump in his throat he can’t seem to speak past, so instead, he simply gives a jerky nod of understanding.

He considers it– of course he considers it. The way Eggsy reacts under his touch, the quiet gasp and the sheer look on the boy’s face… if Harry were a weaker man, he might’ve stolen more than he’d intended.

His hand remains settled on Eggsy’s hip, he doesn’t make to move from the spot he’d pressed himself into. Instead, he leans in and off to the side to reach for the side table the first aid kit is set upon, and drops the cotton ball there before reaching for some ointment and a bandage.

He then carefully dresses the cut upon Eggsy’s brow; careful concentration on his own features. 

   “While that might be true, Eggsy,” His voice is soft and not reprimanding. “–you’re a spy now and a spy mustn’t allow themselves to be so affected by a drunk patron at a bar.” He’d thought he’d taught Eggsy that much, at least. 

For a moment, as Harry starts to lean in, Eggsy thinks he might kiss him. His eyes even start to close, chin lifting a little to meet him when the elder leans to the side to grab the supplies for his cut. Cheeks flush, embarrassment and shame rushing up in a swell. Of course Harry wouldn’t just....kiss him. 

Once more, the young man’s gaze flicks to the side, avoiding looking at Harry, avoiding thinking about just how close the man still was. It was a kind of torture, one Kingsman hadn’t trained him in resisting. It was something Eggsy would have to learn on his own. 

He’d lowered the cotton ball a bit; his other hand placed upon Eggsy’s knee as the younger talked. Harry regarded his protege a moment as those words hung in the air between them.

Eggsy was a trained spy, he should be prepared for any situation– even ones of an unsavory nature. Perhaps Harry was wrong.

     “…then, like this?” The hand that settled casually on Eggsy’s knee, smooths up the younger agent’s inner thigh, firmly forcing his protege’s knees apart further. He leans in, nearly pressing himself between Eggsy’s legs, as the same hand rounds over Eggsy’s thigh before coming to settle over a hip. He keeps his gaze on the younger agent’s features, watching for any subtle changes. “Was he like this?”

Whatever he was expecting, it was nothing remotely like this. The hand sliding up his thigh feels like an electric shock, every nerve ending in his leg completely tuned into the touch. As much as he tries, Eggsy can’t hold back the shudder, lips parting with a quiet gasp.

“And it was just a fight.” He speaks almost dismissively, even as he prepares a cotton ball with antiseptic. He kneels down in front of Eggsy, settling between the younger agent’s knees, and gently cleans away the bloodied cut, taking care to not inflict too much of a sting. As close as they are in this moment, he’s focused on his task.

     “…When you said he grabbed you– what did you mean?” 

Okay, so apparently Harry probably knows more than he let on. Eggsy opens his mouth to reply, only to snap it shut again to hold back the slightly strangled sound at Harry’s new position. Jesus, it just isn’t his day today, is it? He’s careful to flick his gaze away from the sight, grimacing only slightly at the sting as his cut is cleaned. 

“Home, please.” He cues the driver who starts off from the precinct. They drive in silence for a bit. There are plenty of things he could say, but hardly any of them seem necessary– especially when they’re being driven (not that he doesn’t trust the agent driving them). 

When they are dropped off at his doorstep, he motions Eggsy inside before closing the door behind him. “Sit. I’ll fetch you a bandage.” He brushes past Eggsy toward the powder room to find the first aid kit that housed antiseptic, ointments, and bandages before returning.

The lack of further questions only puts Eggsy more on edge. He’d expected a lecture in the car, or at least more talking about what happened. Meekly, the younger follows, trying his best not to let on that his ribs are likely at least bruised. He’s gonna have a nasty splotch there tomorrow, he’s sure. 

He feels like a trainee all over again, the weight of Harry’s disappointment pressing down on his shoulders the instant he slides into the car. Ducking his head probably does little to hide the cut just above his right brow, but Eggsy does it anyway, avoiding the elder’s gaze. 

He’d timed it near perfectly; the boiling kettle, the steeping tea. He averaged how long it would’ve taken Eggsy to have gone to the local market and acquired whatever it is he needed, before heading back and though he was only a few minutes long on his estimate, the tea was at a perfect temperature to be enjoyed.

      “They are endearing if you aren’t in a phenomenal hurry.” There’s a smile at the end of his words, “I would’ve thought you’d like that sort of thing, given your ability to charm just about anyone. Fussy older women easily swoon over younger men.”

Disapproval must read across his features; decades worth of training to be impassive, to not show the rise in emotion (’Now’ was never the time for it, or so it’d been branded into them). He wants to move in close, to grab the young man and pull him in, to kiss and undo all the tip-toeing they’d done since that night (and honestly since he’d found his fondness for Eggsy to be more than friendly). 

But he doesn’t.

Another thing branded into them and all he sees is a life gone far too long without companionship, without love. His gaze falls a moment before allowing a nod of dismissal. Yes, Eggsy can leave, and Harry will simply be left with his regret.

It’s all the confirmation Eggsy needs that he was correct. Harry doesn’t feel anything for him, only regrets what happened between them. It was a mistake, one that caused irreparable damage to their relationship. Eggsy doesn’t think a day will go by that he doesn’t regret that. Regret causing this rift between them. God, he’s so fucking stupid. 

“Healthy is not unsafe.” He calls out after him. Yes, there might be a daft smirk on his lips at the very blush upon Eggsy’s cheeks; humor paints his tone as he watches his… very embarrassed companion head for the door.

       “See you soon!” He’ll go and make that tea now.