Ocd Harry, Eggsy just finds out.

ogkingsmanhartwin:

Harry had been told, on occasion, by medical professionals no less, that he had developed an obsessive-compulsive disorder. It wasn’t terribly severe, they’d say, but it was something to keep note of. He always replied that no, he was merely a trained, bordering on paranoid, spy that felt an uncharacteristically strong need to check and/or clean his weapons multiple times a day and who liked to keep everything in his home as clean and neat as possible thank you very fucking much. 

Besides, even if he accepted their silly diagnostics and he was indeed OCD, then it was of no consequence since he had always lived alone and what he did or didn’t do multiple times in his house (i.e. assemble and disassemble the multiple weapons he owned) it was no one’s business but his own. 

It did not affect his performance in the field and being able to assemble any type of long distance and short distance weapon in less than one and a half minutes each was, in his profession, a blessing.  

He didn’t need to look any deeper into it. He refused to seek help for it. He didn’t need it. He was fine. It was a quirk in his personality and that was the end of that. 

Of course, what he had never expected was to one day be living again with another actual living breathing human being. Especially not one as wonderful and bright and fucking messy as Eggsy. He was the very definition of a human bomb. He left a mess everywhere he went, from reports left haphazardly on the dining room table next to cups of coffee to actual items of clothing left discarded on different rooms of the house, particularly on their bedroom floor. 

And it was okay. 

Well, no, correction, it was a mental hell for Harry, but it was Eggsy doing this, and he loved Eggsy and he wouldn’t – couldn’t – lose him. But he also knew he couldn’t exactly lose his sanity either. It would do neither of them any good. 

He had tried at first to just pick up after Eggsy and, for months, it had actually worked, but the more that time passed, the harder it was for Harry to keep his grated temper in check. There was only so much of it he could take. So of course, his next step had been ramping up relaxation techniques, because if there was one thing he had become good at over the years, it was working under pressure. 

Hence how he had ended up sitting by his dining room table, slick black weapons laid out in pieces on the table as he assembled them and disassembled them repeatedly one after the other, counting the number of armaments every pass. 

“Harry?” Eggsy asked sleepily as he walked into the room, freezing when he finally took in the scene. 

This wasn’t the first time he caught Harry cleaning and assembling his weapons. This was, however, the first time he caught him doing it at three in the goddamn morning with an almost maniacal glint on his eye. 

Harry froze in place, turning slowly once it became clear Eggsy wasn’t going anywhere. “You should be sleeping, darling,” he said gently, a placating smile on his lips. 

Eggsy frowned, looking more and more worried by the second. “I could say the same.” He pointed out. “Harry, babe, are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Harry bristled, meeting Eggsy’s gaze with a cold one of his own. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Eggsy.” 

Eggsy stilled, every alarm in his body going off. “I never said there was. I just asked if you were okay since you’ve been out of bed for almost two hours now, and you’ve apparently been down here the entire time.” Eggsy sighed, inching closer to brush a hand against Harry’s cheek. “Please Harry… I’m not judgin’, swear down, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He kissed his boyfriend’s creased brow. “Let me help you.” 

Harry sighed, relaxing inch by inch, until he finally slumped forward, letting Eggsy take some of his weight. “I… There’s… well I… There’s something you should know about me, Eggsy,” Harry said eventually, swallowing hard. “I’m… well I suppose the correct term is OCD, but-” He shook his head. “It’s not a big problem, it’s just-”

“Babe, I’m not judging,” Eggsy repeated again, finally sitting on Harry’s lap. “So you’re OCD, that means, what for you exactly?” 

“I like things to be… very clean and in order,” he said with a grimace, knowing how absurd he probably sounded. “And I… well I find it cathartic to- necessary really – to do this,” he said as he pointed towards his weapons. “Especially when I’m, ah, a little miffed.” 

Eggsy’s eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. “Oh my god, this is because of the mismatched clothing I put in our wardrobe today, innit?” He said, a hint of horror at his own actions tinging his voice. 

Harry grimaced. “Perhaps,” he said in a soft voice, burying his head in the crook of Eggsy’s neck. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” Eggsy whispered, kissing him soundly. “I mean I don’t know how this works yet, but we’ll figure it out, yeah? Me and you, we always do.”