Archive of Our Own

Keep goin' he told himself, harshly panting for breath as he ran past countless cells and knocked down some of the guards-Hell, he might as well call them military at this point, that was called up to take him down. It was almost impossible, Keep goin', he repeated in his mind again, blocking the left hook that came from his right and ducking under the kick that came after.

'Arry's death 'as got to mean something.

The pain that accompanied that thought was fully the reason why he never saw the heavy hit to his stomach coming. The air was literally punched clean out of his lungs, he staggered back, disoriented. Big mistake.

The next attack from them (wasn't 'e lucky 'e 'ad disarmed those bastards the moment 'e met 'em?) was both a blessing and a fucking pain to his head. A swift roundhouse kick to the side of his head caused him to spin slightly, his back roughly collided with the door of someone's cell. "Fuck!" His head bounced back from the terrible impact until he was ringing with the collision but he lightly shook his head to clear himself of the pain induced fog. It was just in time to avoid the end of the baton one of them suddenly wielded.

A swift sidestep, and a very risky punch to Baton Man's wrist quickly took care of that pesky weapon and- hey, since they wanted to use the damn thing on him, why not return the favour? He snatched the baton in a duck and tuck in roll to get himself out of that fucking corner. He quickly got to his feet then, faster than he had ever believed possible for anyone, he somehow had all seven fucks down on the ground, all unconscious. He dropped the stick, gasping for breath.

"Are you alrigh', Eggsy?" asked Merlin through his glasses.

"Yeah," he managed between breaths, "Yeah, I'm fine. I just-" he gasped, "I just need a little breather."

"You should hurry, I think there are more inco-"

Then all the men in bloody white started to converge on him from all sides and Fuck! he was backed into the door again. Shit, he frantically thought, he was going to die here!

At least 'Arry ain't dead for noth-

That's when it hit him: the sim cards in everyone's head!

"Merlin, the sim! Fucking kill it!"

"Eggsy, you bloody genius!" was Merlin's almost cheer to Eggsy's quick thinking

They were just a few meters close from coming into kicking range . "Fuck, Merlin, now would be a bloody great time to-"

The door behind him suddenly disappeared and he was pulled back and into a dim cell. He yelped in surprise, quickly scrambling out of the strong grasp someone had on the back of his jacket. Dimly he heard the dull thud of something closing, only then did he register that the hand had left him, and that the sound was the door being closed. The ping and the click that followed was clearly the system locking the door.

Shit. Eggsy looked at the door in panic. How was he going to get out of the cell?

Then he heard the multiple explosions right outside the door; the sims were detonated. He sighed in marginal relief- 'e was still locked in a cell, "Thanks Merlin, you're the guvner!"

"I assume you're the hero they've sent to save us from Valentine's clutches?" a disembodied voice coolly asked, startling him and making him focus on the male figure stood next to the- open control panel. Did 'e open the door from the inside? Eggsy wondered, looking between the man and the panel confusedly.

The man stood straight with his hands in his pocket -Hands should never be in the pocket or you'll ruin the line of your suit trousers, Eggsy, remember that.- and leaning against the wall behind him almost languidly. Though he was facing Eggsy, he couldn't quite make out the man's face. The lighting in there was dim enough to provide cover for it. He looked very relaxed, like he wasn't in captivity. Eggsy remembered the unlocked door. Maybe he wasn't.

"No, I was never actually locked in the cell." his voice made it sound like if his face could be seen he would have looked pointedly at Eggsy at this. Eggsy guessed he was right, and raised an eyebrow in retaliation. "But I am not here by consent."

"Oh yeah? So that's why you're still in here when the door's unlocked." he smacked his forehead lightly in a parody of having figured something out, "Of course!"

The man scoffed, Eggsy was actually offended by how deeply condescending he sounded. "To what end?" he walked closer to Eggsy, face angled down as if-was he looking at Eggsy's shoes? "I have no way to contact my men from here, and although the probabilty of my successfully getting out of this place-" he made a gesture here to signify this cell he was in, "- without being caught is rather high, the likelihood of leaving this 'retreat' is severely low. Making it a pointless endeavour."

He walked passed Eggsy, headed straight for the cabinet he didn't notice before.

"Would you care for some scotch?"

Eggsy just stared at the man. What? he was incredulous at the man's relaxed nature, it made him suspicious of the motive for offering the drink. He could be one of Valentine's agents sent to intercept him, who knows what.

The man turned back to look at him and now he could see the man's face. "Oh don't look so suspicious." He heard a little gasp in his ears. As if Merlin recognised who the man was, "If I wanted you dead, I would have just left you out there with all those men."

He poured out two fingers each in the tumblers he had. Then he set the bottle down, picked the tumblers up and offered the other one to Eggsy. "Much more efficient than poisoning anyway, considering the placating and talking that needed to be done to convince you to drink."

Eggsy walked forward, taking the scotch. "Cheers," he said then took a sip.

"Marines or the Army?"

Eggsy stopped, then looked questioningly at the man. "Wha'?" the surprise he felt thickening his accent at the the word.

"I said, Marines or the Army?"

"Marines, but how would you know that?" he hissed out the last few words and then before the other man could even think to defend himself, he had pulled the man away from the liquor cabinet and slammed him against the wall, the tumbler in his hand crashing to the floor. The hand coming up to grip at the arm he had against the taller man's neck, not choking, but enough to bother his breathing capability. "Do you work for Valentine then?" he put a little bit more pressure on the other's neck, a threat and warning to answer truthfully.

"Uhh, Eggsy, I think it'd be a good idea to release him." Merlin nervously suggested and didn't that just made him even more ticked? He had never heard Merlin sound nervous before.

He ignored Merlin. The man had asked Marines or Army, that meant that he knew about Eggsy. His family could be in danger.

"How did you know about that?"

He felt a series of taps and pauses on his arm.

LET ME GO,the taps said

Eggsy did.

The man gasped for breath, belatedly Eggsy realised that his chokehold wasn't quite as controlled as he thought it was. He stared at the man until he regained his composure and stood straight backed once again.

He pointed to Eggsy's wrist, "You have a fading tan that doesn't reach below your wrists. Suggests that where you were, it wasn't leisure, a number of careers could satisfy that one criterion but your posture and the way you handled yourself says military."

"Your health and seemingly perfect condition suggests you left of your own volition, " the other man continued, Eggsy just stared. Speechless.

"The tan line still hasn't disappeared, that puts your return from your tour at roughly less than ten years ago. Only seven men have willingly left the military in the last decade. None dishonourably discharged. Two from the Air Force, three from the Army, and two from the Marines."

"Again, despite my hate to repeat myself," he pointedly looked at Eggsy, expectant, "Marines or Army?"

Eggsy swallowed, and shook his head, disbelief written all over his face. "Why not the Air Force?"

The other man smiled, a little sarcastic, giving Eggsy and lointed once over. "You're not quite the pensioner's age are you?"

That honestly shocked Eggsy into laughing, having not expected that from the thus far stoic man. And wasn't that just horrible? Harry had died not even a day ago, and he had just asked Merlin to detonate the sim cards that a lot of people have got up in their heads and he just laughed at a dry joke some stranger made.

Fuck, he's so fucked up innhe?

In more ways than one, boy.

Fuck off! he snarled back at the voice he never ever wanted to hear ever again.

He noticed his breaths were coming in hitches, his lungs felt like they had something constricting it. He could feel his muscles locking into place, tensing for all the wrong reasons and no. Not now. Not here. Not ever again.

He clenched his hands, bowed his head and took a deep breath and held it. Then he counted from one to ten in a relatively slow speed. Once he was done, he released that breath. There, breathing under control. He felt his muscles going lax, still not quite as relaxed but that was understandable.

He'll mourn later. He has a psycopath- sorry, two psychopaths to kill. But first...

"Who are you?" he asked the man, looking at him directly in his eyes. He raised his eyebrow for good measure, a gesture passively repeated by the taller brunette.

Eggsy was embarrassed to say that they had resorted to a staring contest of sorts, but the shrug he got from the other man (signifying his throwing in the white towel) was satisfying. He waited expectantly for an answer.

"I'm just a minor officer in the British Government."

Eggsy rolled his eyes, annoyed. He really had no time for this, why didn't he immediately leave after the explosions anyway? "That was ridiculously disappointing." he sighed and pointed to the door with his index finger. "Can you open that door, I need to go."

Minion answered with another raised eyebrow as if insulted but he won't show it too much. Well too bad, Eggsy couldn't care less.

Within the next few minutes the door was open and Eggsy was out the door with a "See you topside, Mr British Government Minor Officer."

As he strided quickly back to where Valentine was, he managed to ask Merlin who the hell was the man in the cell.

"That man was Mycroft Holmes, possibly one of the most powerful man in the British Government second only to the Queen."

Well.

And then conversation was cut off as he was proper busy trying to avoid getting killed by, and trying to kill in return, the girl with way too sharp prosthetics for feet. Then when that was done (bloody good shoes they are!) he immediately gunned down Valentine. Each shot was precise, even if it looked like it wasn't, done to make sure that the lisping self-important prick could see his precious life blood seeping out, so he could have those few moments before lights out to think how it was Eggsy and the Kingsman, the organisation that Chester King betrayed so fucking easy who fucked up his plans; so he could mull over the fact that he had lost and it was all because of them.

The minger dying in his own projectile vomit was just a fucking good bonus.

Not long after, he was sitting in one of the seats in the plane with Roxy lightly dozing off on the sofa; he was staring right at the man talking on the on-board phone looking more satisfied with every passing minute of his call. He was blatantly staring, sure. Did he care? No, not at all.

Eggsy ceased his staring and left his seat to enter the pilot's cockpit. He made himself comfortable in the co-pilot's seat then turned to the bald bespectacled Scotsman in the seat beside.

" 'o is that man out there?" he silently questioned.

"I told you, Mycroft Holmes."

"Yeah, but, you say that as if 'is name's suppose to mean something."

Merlin turned to look at him, Eggsy panicked a little but then he realised auto-pilot was on, Phew! "Haven't you heard of Sherlock Holmes at least?"

"Wha'? 'e's the genius bloke 'o solves cases around London innhe?"

Merlin nodded, "They're brothers."

"Okay." Eggsy was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the idea that there was one more person in this world with the same deduction ability like that man

"So don't be surprised if he knows something about you or me or Roxy or Kingsman in general."

He scoffed, "I'm surprised we've managed this far without that man stepping in."

With that, he faced forward again. Eggsy took that as a dismissal, and it is, and went back to his seat. He stared the man again.

Finally, after five more minutes, the man finally put down the phone. Said man then looked at Eggsy. His face and everything else radiated such intense satisfaction it would have been revolting to look at if it weren't for the smile on his lips.

"I don't think we've been properly introduced."

That smile was dangerous, all cruelly sharp edges and kind softness, a lilt to it that promised pain to anyone who dared go against him; there was something in that smile that was compassionate, that offered comfort and safety to those who needed it.

"I think it could be excused, since you were busy with saving the population."

But something in his eyes challenged that offer. Something cold, and it was something infinitely harsh and it showed through what he just said. It was brutally honest, he had saved the population; not the world considering most important politicians, ruling monarchy and whatnot were blown up in Valentine's lair.

Eggsy quickly realised that this was a man who was only kind to those he deemed worthy of his time and any sort of emotional investment, whether big or small. This was a man who didn't waste his time on useless things like feeling sad, or regrets. He took action when he could and bided his time when he couldn't. Eggsy had a feeling that by time they reached London, whatever's left of Valentine's research or plans relating to V-Day would only be dying embers, both literally and figuratively.

Maybe he could teach Eggsy a thing or two?

The man (he knew the name but he refused to acknowledge it until it was given to him directly) stood and walked closer to him, but stopped midway. Eggsy looked questioningly at him. The man just stared back then, very minutely, he nodded at the spot in front of him.

It took a few seconds but Eggsy understood.

He got to his feet and met in the middle, standing a respectable distance from the taller, slightly pudgy but deceptively strong man.

Said man held out a hand, poised for a handshake.

"Mycroft Holmes." he said. Eggsy nodded, and took the hand in his own. Mycroft's grip was warm and firm, supposed signs of someone that could be trusted.

Maybe he could.

"Eggsy Unwin."

llThey let go of each other's hand and returned to their seats, but only after Eggsy had offered Holmes a glass of Martini, to which the brunette accepted.

"So what is Kingsman?" Holmes had asked once he has had of the stirred not shaken drink.

No one had mentioned Kingsman or whatever to him, he must've saw it (or deduced it himself) somewhere else then. Eggsy smiled, and it had teeth. "Oh it's a just little old tailor's shop for suits and whatnot I apperentice at."

"Oh, wonderful." the smile was returned, except it was coldly amused, like he was some sort of puppy doing a trick exhibition. "I might pay a visit; my best suit was a little damaged by Mr Valentine's Head of Security, you see."

"Oh, please do. I assure you, Kingsman would have only the best to offer."

And that was how he met Mycroft Holmes.

******

Eggsy was exhausted. Terribly exhausted.
It has been more than six months since V-Day and he hasn't had a full night's sleep since then. Even when he managed to drift, it plagued with nightmares. It always had him up in cold sweat, breath harsh and gasping and heart beating to a furious drum as if he'd done something strenuous and taxing when in reality he was only just waking from sleep. No matter how light the doze was.

So he tried to keep busy, asking Merlin for a mission whenever he could. Not too frequently of course, it wouldn't be right to worry his friend like that after all. Especially since the man had more than enough on his plate with the aftermath of V-Day. A lot of countries were facing a kind of political crisis with their leaders dead because of a chip inside their heads. Some protested, saying that no way their particular politician would do that; that their man (or woman) was coerced into taking the sim card. Saying that said politician was too honourable to leave the people behind to be killed.

Eggsy tried to not to think about how many of those people were innocent. He tried to not wonder just how many in there were forced to follow with Valentine or risk their family. The operative word here was: tried.

Quiet moments found his mind contemplating these kind of thoughts, and they were eating him up and that just couldn't happen. Not if he wants to be useful.

So he keeps busy even when he's not on a mission; maybe he'd volunteer somewhere, help rebuild something, check the area for Dean's goons so they don't come up and bother him, his mum and Daisy no more. Just so that by the time he gets home (a new home, one provided by Kingsman and far, far away from Dean but still...) and when his head hits the pillow, he'll immediately fall asleep. No silent moments with just him and his thoughts, only sleep. Not restful, but, enough.

He thanked Christ (and isn't that just fucked, people have died but he's thankful) that it's so busy even for Kingsman, especially for Kingsman it seemed. Chester King had not been idle while he still had wool pulled over everyone's eyes. He had managed to convice five other agents into the Valentine madness, leaving them only seven of the initial twelve members.

Six, his cruel mind whispered to him, this one fact it continuously refused leave from his head, Or you wouldn't be 'avin 'is name.

"Ah, Mr Unwin," said a familiar voice cheerily as he walked into Kingsman, "I was just asking your Master here if you were available for my fitting. "

He looked up-odd, he hadn't realise he'd looked down (or left his home for that matter) on his way inside, and found the face of Mycroft Holmes staring assessingly at him.

Eggsy twitched, slightly worried that he'd been found but, well, it's not like his condition was too bad. He was just lacking sleep is all, and maybe a bit of 'is appetite but that's all normal innit? He's still functioning,so that's fine. He's fine. Nothing for Mr Holmes to see. Nothing at all.

He smiled at Mr Holmes and when he spoke he made sure his accent was undetectable, "Are you sure, sir? Master Vergil would make much better assesments to whatever alteration required for your suits." Vergil nodded accordingly from behind the table.

Holmes just smiled at him, rather blandly if Eggsy was honest, "I'm sure your skills would be more than adequate."

Eggsy levelled a calculating gaze at the man, wondering what he was playing at but the other man's face was as readable as he was stupid. Which is to say, not at all. Unless Holmes expected Eggsy to bring him inside Kingsman HQ, then yes, he is completely stupid.

Eggsy nodded, thanking Vergil and lead Holmes into fitting room one with a quiet, "This way, sir." and a quick stride. Once they were both in, Eggsy gestured Holmes to stand before the mirror. He then picked the necessary tools from the small wicker rack in the corner of the room. On the wall beside the mirror, is a clever collapsible table, a small one the length of one end of the room to the other. He set the measurement book and pen down on it and turned to Holmes, unwinding the measuring tape as he did so.

(Tailoring was one of the lessons in the agency too in case of situations like this, so yes, he's trained, stop doubting!)

He started by asking Holmes what sort of suit he wanted and then everything else dissolved into the mechanical action of measuring, jotting down the numbers, asking questions like what the suit is for and whatnot. He was just finishing up the length of his shoulders (they were broad, strong) when Holmes asked a question, shocking him out of his nearly automatic movements.

"So how are you, Mr Unwin?"

Eggsy raised an eyebrow at him, moved the tape to left base of neck to end of shoulder.

"Pardon?" he didn't mean for him to repeat the question, he meant for Holmes to elaborate his question. There were a thousand ways for that question to be answered, and Eggsy didn't want to give the wrong answer.

As they say, ask and you shall receive.

"Bags under your eyes, a subtle redness in them that could only be from lack of sleep, your skin is pale too because of it but you've done very well in hiding that fact by wearing warm colours and somewhat regular ventures outside ," Holmes fixed him with a stare that had him unable to move.

"Your cheekbones are sharper than before, your eyes rather sunken. Like you've lost weight, a significant amount. Not terribly so that it's obvious and indeed nothing that would raise alarms either, unless they were looking for signs."

Eggsy shuddered, and it was far too obvious in front of a man like Holmes, but it was far too late to catch anyway, as struck as he was. He looked up at Holmes, "Signs?" he asked, his voice pathetically breathy and cracked. He winced, and cleared his throat, "What signs?" this time the words came out more playful and quizzing instead of whatever just now was.

"The way you put it Mr Holmes, anyone would think I'm having some sort of PTSD type thing." he laughed at what he said at the end, because it was so-

"Aren't you?" was Holmes's nonchalant reply, not looking at Eggsy at all but observing his cuticles like they were the most interesting thing in this room. Like he was giving Eggsy some sort of privacy to himself. Like he was giving him a moment to be weak.

It was quiet but for his pants as he does the three hundredth push up that night in the gym. His arms and shoulders and chest were slightly sore from the strain but he ignored them. The consequences of cocking up the set would be far worse. Besides, the pain later would feel good on his soul.

Three hundred and one. His mum was still with that bastard, worse, pregnant by 'im.

Three hundred and two. She wanted him to come back.

Three hundred and three. Eggsy didn't want to go back.

Three hundred and four. He did-

There was a hard kick to his side that toppled him over, he was clutching slightly at it, reeling with pain. A few seconds later, he looked up and found the eyes of his trainer centimeters from his own. "Who told you to take a rest, cadet?" the man snarled, then he sneered. Disgust evident in his face. "Too weak to take four hundred? You might as well die here, cadet. Again!“

He came back to himself, furious both at Holmes and at the words that just wouldn't leave his head.

"I am not weak!" he hissed at the taller male. His clenched fist twitched at the blank face Holmes had on. The anger he felt was probably displacement from what he had just remembered, but what did that matter? Holmes had implied it right of the bat with the PTSD bullshit. He wasn't weak! He's not!

You sure about that, boy?

That voice, that voice again.

It's you or your mummy, Eggsy. Dean.

Fuck off!! he snarled at the voices. Your fucking opinion isn't needed!

A hand was suddenly on the back of his neck, and squeezed lightly. Just a bit of pressure, only enough to say Stop. Come back.

His eyes snapped to Holmes's.

The older man was frowning, the lines of his mouth just barely pulled down and a small furrow in between his eyebrows

"I never said you were."

"Well, you were implying it!" he roughly tried to shake off the hand but it still stayed there and squeezed again. Eggsy should feel trapped, it was one of the things he did back then but he didn't.

"I'm sorry about that then. I was simply..." he trailed off, looking hesitant.

Eggsy had a strong feeling in his chest that Holmes was rarely ever hesitant in what he did. The thought that he was being hesitant with what he wanted to say to Eggsy just ticked him right off.

"You simply what?" he prompted, uncaringvif he came off rude, "Come on, finish what you wanted to say!"

"I simply wanted to help." Holmes finally said.

Eggsy snorted out an incredulous laugh and looked disbelievingly at the other man.

"What would you help me with?" Eggsy crossed his arms and glared at Holmes. The movement jostled the front of his arms into Holmes's torso considering how close they were by way of the brunette's hand at the nape of his neck.

"And how, exactly, would you help me?"

He can hear the voices now, all tellin' 'im how he was pathetic, worthless for either Queen or Country. 'ow 'e's weak enough that people were offering 'im 'elp.

The hand at his neck squeezed gently again, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glowered at Holmes, "What?!" he hissed.

"Breathe."

"What?"

"Simply close your eyes, and breathe." If Eggsy hadn't known any better, he would have thought that those words were an order.

"What the hell are you-"

The hand tightened, just skirting the edge of pain. "Do as I say. Close your eyes and breathe."

He quirked Holmes an irritated eyebrow, letting him know with his entire countenance how annoyed he was with the whole situation. When he got nothing but 'nother squueze, he huffed, incensed, but did as told. He closed his eyes.

"Good." Holmes intoned, then very lightly, as if he was commenting on the weather, he ordered Eggsy to "Breathe in."

Eggsy did.

"Out." Eggsy followed; it's not like it was so taxing to follow anyway.

"In." Eggsy noted how pleasant Holmes's scent was. Sandalwood, something spicy and something sweet. Like he had eaten something sugary the last hours before he got here. Eggsy decided he liked it, despite how irritating the man was.

"Out." he expelled the air he had brought in a bit too quickly, making himself feel a little lightheaded. He wanted to breathe the air back in-

Holmes tightened his hold over his nape again.

"I haven't told you to breathe in. Wait." he sounded stern, chiding.

Eggsy wanted to do exactly what Holmes said to not do just to spite him, but that would draw this out longer. As if Holmes heard his thought, the hand tightened again. He held his breath.

He counted slowly to twenty in his head, then almost managed another twenty when-

"In." Holmes breathed and so did Eggsy. "Good boy." Eggsy somehow didn't mind the name. It felt nice, sounded good rolling off Holmes's tongue.

Eggsy sighed, nuzzled his head at the juncture between Holmes neck and shoulder, only then realising that he was in Holmes's arms. He decided he didn't care. He felt so calm.

"What was this about then?" he asked, cadence soft and nearly lethargic, he felt almost content.

"Is it still noisy in your head?"

Eggsy's head snapped back in surprise so quick he almost got whiplash.

He was gobsmacked.

His head was quiet. No noise, no voices he didn't want to hear. Just his own and Holmes's voice. No one else's. Just his, only his.

Eggsy shuddered out a breath, awed. He looked up at the genius that wasn't quite the prick he thought he was.

"How did you do that? I've done all the breathing exercises and all those shit they said would help and ain't nothing's ever worked before." he barely noticed his accent slipping as he let those words out, peered at Holmes with half lidded eyes. "What did you do to me Holmes?"

Eggsy felt a thumb lightly running the length of his nape, it made him feel warm and nice. He clung slightly to Holmes, uncaring of how that was perceived.

"It's not something you could do by yourself," Holmes began, only to hear Eggsy snorting out a "Obviously." which he quieted by pulling on a lock of blonde hair. "I could help you, like I said."

"Look, Holmes, we've just met and there's absolutely no reason for you to want do this for me. So why are you?"

Holmes seemed to stop, thinking on his answer. Eggsy wondered if he was trying to make things up and thinking up a plausible story but Holmes rolled his eyes at him when said male caught his eye again. A significant "No, foolish boy, I wouldn't lie about this, have some faith in me."

He was pulled back into reality when Holmes slid the hand at his nape lower to just a little above his waist joining with the arm already loosely hugged there. The hand created a warm path down his back, Eggsy could feel his skin tingling from the sensation. "I recently lost a huge amount of control of both myself and an immense part of things I'm responsible for. Not to mention, all the things that occured in light of Valentine's master plan. It nearly cost me my brother." The hand twitched, as if the fingers were closing around a neck; and they were not meant to calm. Eggsy wanted to ask, but Holmes didn't ask him about his demons so Eggsy won't.

Holmes looked at him in the eyes, blue met bluish green.

"I'd like to feel like I have some of that control back."

Eggsy felt like the air was ounched it of him, he was again in awe. Complete honesty, that answer if his. No lies, no barnishing of any sort, nothing. Just a simple "I cocked up, now I'm fucked, I'd really love to feel like I'm not totally fucked over sometime soon."

Eggsy could work with that.

"And you could d-do th-that, whatever you did to make me 'ead quiet?"

Holmes nodded, "I'll do my best."

Eggsy breathes.

"Okay." he nodded. His body going lax, melting into Holmes's body. "I trust ya Holmes, okay, we could do that.

"Mycroft,"

"Hmm?"

"Call me Mycroft, if we do this I mean."

Eggsy nodded, incidentally nuzzling unto Mycroft's chest.

"Eggsy, call me Eggsy." he whispered.

Holm-Mycroft hummed in acknowledgement. One of his hand trailed upwards and ran through his hair. "We're not done talking though. There's a lot we need to discuss."

"Of course there is," Eggsy acquiesced, torn between pushing into the kind, soft touch at his head or the grounding, comforting one at his hip.

Eggsy would admit later while he was safely ensconced in bed at home, when his mum and Daisy are soundly sleeping in their shared room, that he would recollect this moment and consider putting himself in an institution. Because that was just it. The whole thing was mad, bonkers, off your rocker type of deal. Something that could have a consequence so profound and damaging; Eggsy knew first hand that emotional dependence could lead to all sorts of issues, like attachment (look at his mother for fuck's sake) especially if this was to be a no strings sort of deal.

(Not that he would get attached, he was still too raw from losing Harry-

Lost? his fucking trainer's voice would taunt, You never even had him

You sure he didn't purposefully jump in fron of that bullet, Eggsy? his name was sneered out, a parody of a gentle, well meaning tease

And he would be gutted by these truths, turned unable to breathe until he called Mycroft, but that is a story for later...)

So they will talk, to outline what each expects from the other; what they don't ever want to do, what they can and are willing to do and all that tosh. They have to. Neither would accept anything less, for both had seen how terribly wrong it could go for both parties if negotiations weren't done.

But not right then, Eggsy thought. He wanted the quiet to last just a little bit longer. If he sounded desperate than that was with him and whatever deity was up there listening in.

So of course they have to talk.

"But we can talk later, yeah?"

"Yes, we can."

They stayed like that for ten more minutes, one collecting his thoughts; the other just enjoying the silence of his mind. They pulled away, both were a little reluctant but they had jobs and lives to get back to.

When they both left the fitting room soon after, it was to Vergil's quiet question of whether Mycroft wanted anything more added to his purchase and nothing else.

Eggsy was pathetically grateful for that.

He silently watched as Mycroft walked out of the store, quirking a smile when the genius turned back to the store and their eyes met, before said genius enters the car he called and is driven away.

He felt Vergil standing next to him. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable questioning from the older Kingsman.

He didn't though.

"You're looking better, Eggsy."

Eggsy relaxed, just barely hiding the sigh of relief that wanted to leave him. He nodded and grinned, it didn't feel quite as faked as it has these past months, hell, years. He counted that as a small victory.

"Fine enough to help you with making suits, Verge."

Vergil good naturedly rolled his eyes, looking amused as he walked back to the tailor table.

He gestured with his right hand to the unoccupied stool behind him. Basically saying, make yourself comfortable. You'll be watching first.

As he watched Vergil work, his mind was blissfully empty of everything he didn't want to hear about.

That was how he and Mycroft began.