[[Sometimes being a demon is neat. Sometimes its a bad day. Today was just… weird.]]
Matthew laid across the back of the living room couch, tossing a ball at the ceiling and catching it. Sam had the TV on to NCIS, and was doing aggressive crunches on the floor. Restless, he’d said.
It was an odd day. None of the day’s events had been out of the ordinary, but the whole of the day’s existence in time had felt like a crooked picture. All of the brothers had felt it, but not Mika for some reason. She was out with the girls while the brothers…
Matthew glanced down at Sam. He had a deep sneer on his face as he sprung down and up, so perfectly furious that he couldn’t simply work-out the odd away. It made something in Matthew’s mind click into place, and he caught his ball.
As Sam came up on a crunch, Matthew chucked the ball at Sam’s head and nailed him right on the brow. Sam shouted, more startled than in pain, and quickly rolled onto his front.
Matthew beamed and rolled back off the couch, or he tried to. The couch was flat against the wall. No quick escape from this.
Whiskey watches as Eggsy steps away to answer a call from his girlfriend. He’s impressed by the kid’s prowess to nab himself the Princess of Sweden, but he’s not that impressed. He’s had his fair share of brushing elbows with presidents and royalty, and he’s more into princes than princesses, but that’s nobody’s business. To his left, Harry (Not the South Glade Church killer anymore. Not a mysterious John Doe armed to the gills with deadly gadgets anymore) watches his protégé talking in hushed whispers, and Whiskey isn’t blind. Despite his Stetson, dusty boots, and southern drawl, he’s still a spy, and it’s his job to notice little quirks and ticks in other people. He’s seen the way they look at each other, one with regret and the other full of longing. The tension is so thick between them that Whiskey doubts his lasso could cut through it.
Harry’s moodier than usual. Whiskey’s spent enough time watching and observing Harry through the one-way mirror to recognize the subtle change in the man’s demeanor. It’s more than just finding out his office and home have been blown up, and his life’s work is a pile of rubble and ashes now. People have moved on and made a life for themselves without him. Sullenness has replaced the usual aloofness that Whiskey’s used to seeing. It’s a little odd: what Harry and Eggsy could have been or might have been once upon a time. There’s a questionable age gap between them, and they come from very different backgrounds. Still, he can understand why Harry can’t seem to take his eyes (or eye) off Eggsy. The boy has classically good looks and exudes a certain kind of charm that lets him get away with all his backtalk. Eggsy is adorable, really, like a tiny pomeranian who yaps too much and picks fights with dogs twice his size, and people still coo over him regardless.
“Thinking about your home?“ Whiskey makes small talk while they wait for the others to return to the table. Merlin excused himself to the men’s room a minute earlier, leaving Harry and him in awkward silence. He rests his arm along the back of the booth, careful not to touch Harry’s shoulder because Harry has a history of being unpredictable. Handsome (even with an eye patch), but very dangerous. And that’s kind of a turn on, honestly.
Harry turns his head to look at Whiskey. “No.“ At least Harry’s talking now.
“About something else you lost then?” Whiskey clarifies and glances knowingly over at Eggsy who’s by the bar finishing up his conversation. He’s a spy. Being nosy is in his blood.
Following the direction of Whiskey’s gaze, Harry doesn’t bother with embarrassment or defensiveness. Instead, he replies as a matter of fact, “You can’t lose what was never yours.”
God, give us more. Please. This is fantastic. And tag me if you do, I beg of you.
“God, I’m fucking knackered,” Eggsy groans. His right leg’s falling asleep on him, but he doesn’t want to shift in his chair. The Statesman’s medical team said that luckily for him, his ribs hadn’t been smashed to bits and his concussion wasn’t too serious. Lucky him, yeah, but if it weren’t for the meeting, he’d be having a lie-down right now. “Who the fuck knew Charlie was going to have a fucking mechanical arm? Fucking mission went pear-shaped.”
“Aye,” Merlin sighs. “Glaikit bastard. Should have amnesia darted him when he left, put him on surveillance—”
“We couldn’t have, though,” Eggsy points out, “not with Chester around. And are you saying you don’t watch the candidates who—” he cuts himself off, remembering that the other Statesman agents are also in the room, looking at them curiously. Kingsman may be no more, but he’s still got to act like it’ll come back. “…who are like that?”
Merlin shakes his head. “No. And perhaps we need to look into that.”
“Mental,” Eggsy groans, closing his eyes. He might not have had anything to do with the administrative side of Kingsman, but that doesn’t mean that not keeping an eye on the candidates who failed the fucking loyalty test is a sort of shite idea “Absolutely fucking mental.”
There’s a loud cough from the seat on Eggsy’s left. “Yeah, guys, I have no fucking clue what you’ve been saying,” Tequila drawls, boots on the table.
Eggsy sees Ginger gives him a reproving look, much like Merlin’s, and with a wink, Tequila slides his feet onto the floor, catching Eggsy’s eye in order to shoot a grin his way.
“We know Charlie Hesketh from before,” Merlin says. “He was one of our recruits—”
“No, no, not that, I gathered that,” Tequila says, waving his hand. “But all those…slang words.”
Notes: For my wonderful enabler, @notbrogues❤ Might end up on Ao3 later 🙂
Merlin knew it was early, but he really didn’t care.
He methodically watched the phone screen curled in his hand, the ellipses synching up with each ring as he tried to FaceTime Eggsy. Eggsy’s little jaunt in Kentucky was starting to grate on his nerves, and he needed his agent back in London as soon as possible for an upcoming mission. Eggsy, of course, had avoided and dodged all of the emails that he had sent him, only responded to his texts with emojis, and sent every phone call straight to voicemail.
Just as he was about to give up hope, he saw “Connecting” in the top right corner of his screen. Suddenly, Eggsy’s sleep scrunched face was staring back at him, his hair mussed and sticking up at odd angles. The only source of light seemed to be coming from Eggsy’s phone screen–Merlin checked his watch and saw that it was 10:00 in London, meaning it was around 5AM in Kentucky. Perfect.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Merlin said, letting a smirk play across his mouth.
“I swear to fuck, Merlin, the world better be on fire right now for you to be calling me this early.” He watched Eggsy run a hand down his face, blinking rapidly as his eyes continued to adjust to the brightness of the screen.
“I can assure you that it isn’t. But let this be a lesson to you the next time you decide to ignore all of my phone calls, texts, and emails.” Merlin took a steadying sip of tea before placing his “LET’S GET KRAKEN!” mug back on the desk. “You need to report back to headquarters within the next 24 hours for a mission, Galahad. And so help me, if I have to come to Kentucky and drag you back myself, this five AM phone call will be the least of your problems.”
“Why couldn’t this have waited until, oh, I don’t know, two hours from now?”
“Because, Galahad, unlike you, some of us understand the weight of responsibility and aren’t off galavanting with our handsome cowboy boyfriends in the middle-of-nowhere-USA.”
Suddenly, Merlin heard a rustling next to Eggsy before Tequila’s face filled the screen.
“Ham, my man! I could fucking murder you for waking us up this early, but you called me handsome so I’ll let it slide!”
Merlin groaned, rolling his eyes as he dropped his forehead into his free hand. “Good morning, Tequila. I hope you heard my instructions to Eggsy. I expect you to keep him on track and get him to the airport.”
“Of course, Hammy! Just as soon as I get a proper goodbye.”
“I swear on all that is holy, if you call me ‘Hammy’ one more time…”
“Don’t the Scottish have a better sense of humor than the one you have?”
Merlin deadpanned into the camera, regretting his decision to FaceTime Eggsy instead of just going to Kentucky and grabbing the lad himself.
“Then again, Shrek was a bit of a wet blanket…poor Donkey. No one ever got his jokes.” Tequila actually looked saddened by this thought, which made Merlin even angrier.
Merlin now set his jaw, willing the urge to murder away. “You have four hours, Eggsy, so get your sorry arse out of bed and get moving.”
The screen jolted back to where Eggsy lay, that infuriatingly cute, if not awkward downturn of his mouth filling up half of Merlin’s screen. “Jeez, bruv, wake up on the wrong side of the cave? Fine, I’ll get moving.” He saw Eggsy attempt to get up, only to be dragged back down by what Merlin could only assume was Tequila’s broad, muscular arm. Eggsy was now chuckling to himself as Tequila pressed his face against the crook of Eggsy’s neck.
Merlin was not chuckling.
“You’re both disgusting.”
“Hey now, Ham, I haven’t had my goodbye yet. I told you I’d get on it as soon as I get my goodbye kiss.” He rolled his gaze up to the camera and winked at Merlin.
“Eggsy, I’ve decided that your next mission is going to be to Siberia for telling all of Statesmen that my name is Hamish.”
“Ham-ish,” Tequila responded, pronouncing the first part as if it were a deli meat. “Ham and Eggs, best team around.” He grinned, his dimple infuriatingly attractive, and then pressed his lips to Eggsy’s cheek. Eggsy scrunched his face in embarrassment, the smallest of smiles playing on his lips.
“Sorry, Merlin,” Eggsy murmured, giving the camera an innocent grin.
“Did Eggsy tell you about what we bought this past weekend?” Tequila’s face was once again taking up the screen, and Merlin was half tempted to lay it face-down on the desktop.
“No, he didn’t. He’s been avoiding me, which I know you heard at the beginning of our conversation.”
“Ah, true. Awfully rude of you, Eggs. Anyway, we bought a pot bellied pig! Cutest little guy I’ve ever seen. Named him Merlin.”
Merlin choked on the sip of tea he had taken, heatedly watching Tequila’s smarmy grin as he laughed into the camera.
“Fuck you both. You’re the worst thing to ever happen to my blood pressure.” With that, Merlin hung up the call, their cackling cut off. He wasn’t even worried that he gave them exactly what they wanted.
That ending is seriously the most Merlin reaction. And I don’t want anyone else to write Tequila because I can never imagine him as anyone else after you’ve written him. I want to hug this fic. Bless you, my darling, you always make my day ❤
One of the funniest fucking things about Kingsman: The Secret Service is that at one point Harry has to go on a mission in Kentucky and he tells Eggsy to just wait at his house and he’ll be right back.
They’re in England.
He’s going to Kentucky.
Do you know how long the average flight time from England to Kentucky is?
Twelve.
Hours.
That’s not even factoring in delay and wait times, or the times of the actual mission, or the prep time for the mission, or sleeping and eating time.
So Harry is telling this kid to just sit around his house for a good day and half, acting like it’s only gonna be a few hours, and either Eggsy doesn’t understand travel times, or he has literally nothing better to do with his life, because he does it unquestioningly, like the absolute madman he is.
Not only this, but he sits in Harry’s office and watches the whole mission via the video feed sent to Harry’s laptop from his glasses. Like, how long was he watching? Did he just sit there with a bag of popcorn as Harry walked around airport terminals and stared out the window of a jet? I need answers!
Harry doesn’t make it back after the mission, so it only would end up being like ¾ of a day, but still, what the fuck?
The best part is that absolutely none of this is addressed in the movie at all, and the way the cuts are set up it looks like it took Harry like an hour to get there and Eggsy just sat at his desk the whole time. Now, you can talk to me about James Bond style tech and private jets and shit all you want but as far as we can tell, Kingsman only has the same kind of flight tech as the rest of the modern world, so it would only cut it down like four or five hours at best.
So Harry’s still telling this kid to chill at his house for a whole day at least.
Listen, I think about this constantly.
Did Eggsy raid Harry’s fridge? Drink his expensive scotch and gin? I bet he took a nap on Harry’s bed because it’s got fancy sheets and is stupid soft and he kind of did it out of spite. He spends an hour staring at the butterflies in the bathroom, muttering about how fucking mental Harry is until his anger subsides. He absolutely one hundred percent rifles through Harry’s weird collection of shit, pokes around his house, reads all the headlines in the office, unsuccessfully tries to hack into the computer (until Merlin takes pity on him and gives him Harry’s Netflix password).
But now look at this. It’s dark. Either Eggsy has been here an entire day (it’s light when he and Harry fight) or it’s on into the next day.
Look closer. There is a book open on the table. Did Harry have this here? Or did Eggsy find this in his snooping and was looking at some scrapbook or album or book of Harry’s? How long was Eggsy sitting, ruminating on his actions, and starting to let the regret and guilt seep in? Or did he just find some hilarious and incriminating snapshots from the 80s of Harry with his ridiculous candy-floss hair and ill-fitting suits?
We have all these fics about the 24 hours. Give me fics of Eggsy just bumming around Harry’s house and being a fucking nuisance.
Eggsy stares stubbornly at the wall while Harry gets ready
to go wherever he’s going. He doesn’t know what to say and he wonders if he
should just go home, but Harry told him to stay right here, so he does;
standing in the loo, pretending to be fascinated by the butterflies. He knows
that Harry knows that he’s not really even looking, but it seems that neither
of them want to break the tense silence.
Eventually, Harry reappears on the loo door, now wearing a
full suit. ‘’Make yourself at home,’’ he says, words clipped and awkward. ‘’Or
if you intend to leave, give me a way to find you after I get back.’’
Eggsy scoffs. ‘’Couldn’t you find me anyway?’’
‘’Of course I could.’’ Harry pauses and sighs. ‘’But I’d
rather make contact on your terms. I mean it when I say that I will sort this
out, but it’ll take a little mutual trust.’’
Eggsy wants to have a few choice words about trust with him,
but now is not the time. Instead, he nods and turns back to the butterflies. He
hears Harry close the door behind him and counts to sixty. Then he turns
around, bounds up the stairs and goes straight to Harry’s office and starts
going through his drawers.
(Wow. Um. I don’t even know if my heart can handle this! ;A; I’m getting sad just thinking about it. But I will do it! I will do the angst because it is necessary for the fandom. And I can’t turn down the chance to write a good torture scene. TRIGGER WARNINGS: Violence, Blood, Torture, SHEER ANGST)
Eggsy woke, his head pounding like someone had decided to take a sledge hammer repeatedly to the inside of his skull. He looked around, but he couldn’t see anything. The room was pitch black, the darkness cloying and consuming him. His heart rate spiked, sharp panic metallic on his tongue.
He took a moment to assess his situation. His hands were bound with zip ties around the the back of the metal chair. Other than his head, nothing hurt. He still had all his limbs, teeth, and though he couldn’t see an inch in front of his face, he was pretty sure he had his eyes.
What happened?
The last thing he remembered was coming out of the cinema with Harry. Harry had said something, and Eggsy had thought how strange it was that Harry sounded so sad. The movie had been a comedy, why did he sound like he was going to cry? And then it had gone dark and Eggsy had been pitched into the nothingness.
Someone drugged me, Eggsy told himself.
A light went on, blindly bright–well at least his eyes still worked, though Eggsy wasn’t so sure anymore–and Gawain walked into the room.
“What the ‘ell is going on, bruv?” Eggsy snapped, tugging forcefully at his arms. “Why the fuck am I tied up? Where’s ‘Arry?”
Gawain’s expression was unreadable, which was strange since Gawain always had a smile on. Eggsy enjoyed working with him because Gawain always had a joke on hand. But now he stared impassively at Eggsy, his eyes cold and calculating.
“Who are you working for?” Gawain asked.
“What? What the fuck are y’ gettin’ on about? Is this another joke? Y’ know ‘Arry is going to be pissed when he finds out,” Eggsy said. “Now let me up.”
Gawain didn’t move, but there was a slight tremor up his arm from how tightly he clenched his fist. “This isn’t a joke, Bors. We know you’re the mole. We found the transmissions. But we can’t decipher who they’re too. If you tell us who you’re working for, we’ll make this quick.”
Eggsy’s heart dropped into his stomach with a loud splash. “What?” Eggsy asked, incredulously. “Are y’ taking a fucking piss? I’m not the mole! I work for *Kingsman* y’ arse. Where’s ‘Arry? Does he know about this?”
“He knows,” Gawain answered, and it was a hard slap to the face, completely wrecking Eggsy.
“What?” Eggsy whispered. The two words rang in his ears. Gawain observed Eggsy with a predatory glare. The silence was violent. Eggsy could feel the noose around his neck, tightening with each passing second.
Harry knew? He knew and he left Eggsy here? How… how could he think.. Eggsy would never betray Harry. Never. Eggsy would die before he did that.
“I’ll give you one last chance. You can’t deny the evidence, Bors. There’s too much against you,” Gawain said. Eggsy met his glare, his mouth clamped shut tightly.
Gawain let out a long breath through his nose. “The hard way than.” He closed in on Eggsy, and for the first time in Eggsy’s life, he learned what true pain was.
It lasted for an hour, each cycle going in ten minute intervals. Gawain was a calculated killer and the best interrogator Kingsman had. He knew where to hit to make it hurt, but to not leave permanent damage. He stretched it out, and at first Eggsy resisted, keeping his mouth sealed. But his resistance was nothing compared to Gawain’s iron will, and as the strikes grew harder, the cuts deeper, the tactics deadlier, Eggsy began to crumble.
He screamed. He screamed for Harry. He screamed until his throat bled. And when making a sound choked him, he screamed around the blood.
Where was Harry? Why was he doing this? How could he believe Eggsy would do this? They’d been together for three years. Eggsy had been an agent for five. Why would he betray them now?
Eggsy didn’t know when the lights went out or if it was him going unconscious, but eventually the light returned, and when his vision cleared, Eggsy was looking at Harry from across the table.
Eggsy sobbed, trying to strain at the restraints, but too exhausted. Each breath was a struggle. Gawain had broken a few of his ribs. He avoided Eggsy’s face, but that didn’t mean that the rest of his body didn’t feel like a large open wound that someone kept pouring salt on.
Harry’s eyes were distant. They weren’t cold. They weren’t steel. They were dead, turned off to Eggsy. And that hurt more than anything Gawain could ever do. Harry rose to his feet and walked around the table to Eggsy, towering over him.
Eggsy craned his neck to look at Harry, whispering, “Please, ‘Arry… I love you.”
Harry sucked in a sharp breath, and something between ruin and fury passed over him. The slap echoed off the walls. Eggsy felt the pain radiate across his face, blood pooling in his mouth.
Harry had never struck him, ever. But now… Eggsy stared at him in horror.
“Don’t,” Harry whispered harshly, words trembling. “Don’t say those lies. We know. Tristan found everything. I loved you.”
Loved. Past tense.
Eggsy didn’t care anymore. He sagged in the seat, entire body going numb. His mind slipped into the place where nothing existed but a single snow globe, which he shook and watched, mesmerized by the falling glitter. It was the place he went to when Dean beat on him. It was his only safe haven.
“Tell us,” Harry demanded, his voice disconnected. “Tell us who you work for and we’ll end this now.”
End it. Kill him.
Eggsy rolled his eyes up to look at Harry. Maybe he should just tell them what they want. Come up with a name. Anything to make this end. Because what was the point of going on when Harry didn’t even believe in him?
Harry looked away, a shudder cascading down him. “I’ve never been more disappointed.”
Eggsy gasped, and his heart cracked straight down the middle. He let out a sob, head dropping. “Okay,” Eggsy croaked around snow and tears. “Okay.”
The door suddenly banged open and Merlin cried, “Stop!”
Eggsy’s head shot up. He winced at the pain that penetrated his neck and stared at Merlin, who gaped at him with wide horrified eyes.
“It’s not him,” Merlin said hoarsely. “It’s not him. It’s Tristan, he set it up–we have him. He forged the transmissions. Eggsy didn’t do it.”
Harry collapsed at Eggsy’s feet. No one spoke. What could they say? Eggsy hung from the chair, doing the only thing he could do–he sobbed.
Everything after was a blur afterwards. Tristan was taken in for questioning. Eggsy was taken to medical and tended to. Merlin oversaw his care personally. The damage, while excruciating, wasn’t life threatening. Gawain knew what he was doing.
Eggsy spent a few days in the medical ward. Gawain visited and pleaded with Eggsy to forgive him. Eggsy did, because he knew the man was acting on orders. When Merlin asked if he would quit, Eggsy said, “Of course not. This shite happens, right guv?” The response was hollow.
Merlin nodded, placed his hand on Eggsy’s, and murmured, “Good, lad.”
When Harry came to visit, he looked like a specter of his former self. He stared at Eggsy from across the room, mouth open as if he were going to say something–maybe apologize–but Eggsy turned away and curled in on himself. That wasn’t his Harry. That Harry was gone. The man before him was just another face of Dean, another face of a man who would wield his strength and power over Eggsy until he bowed.
Eggsy would stay with Kingsman and he would be loyal to Arthur, but Eggsy would never look at Harry the same again.
Merlin had just sat down at his kitchen island with what was going to be a very lovely Cobb salad: perfectly hard-boiled eggs, shredded rotisserie chicken from his favourite deli, organic avocado, the stinkiest blue cheese he could get his hands on. After a long day babysitting his agents, it was going to be well worth it.
He was just about to dig in when the unmistakable sound of sweaty flesh slapping against more sweaty flesh broke his reverie at his magnificent salad. Sighing deeply, he sets down his fork and slowly looks up to where Harry is absolutely pile-driving Eggsy in the counter top.
He knew it was a mistake to let Harry and Eggsy board at his place upon returning to London while they searched for their own house.
“Are you serious?” Merlin asks incredulously. “Right in front of my salad?”
Eggsy was drooling on the counter, so he wasn’t going to answer.
Fucking unbelievable. Merlin was going to have to eat in the bathroom, again.
There’s a familiar lull after saving the world, a sense of satisfaction in a job well done. Harry would have celebrated with a glass of whatever he happened to find in his liquor cabinet, but as he hadn’t had anything alcoholic for nearly three years, it seemed best to hold off on that for the time being.
Eggsy, in contrast, seems to be downing shot after shot, raising his hands as the Statesman and Roxy cheer him on, Merlin shaking his head beside Harry, with Ginger putting a hand on Merlin’s arm and laughing. The bar’s booths are strewn with glasses of varying sizes, along with trays of chips—fries—and takeaway, albeit with no burgers in sight, though Harry couldn’t blame anyone after what they uncovered in Poppy’s lab.
Harry watches as Tequila says something to Eggsy, throwing in a wink, and tries ignore the sharp twist in his chest, especially when Eggsy flushes dark red, glancing downwards. Luckily, Whiskey comes forward, gently pushing Tequila off to the side, but the relief Harry decidedly does not feel is immediately squashed when Whiskey leans in, hand on Eggsy’s shoulder, whispering in Eggsy’s ear.
Eggsy looks up at him, surprise flooding across his face, then his lips move: you serious?
Whiskey nods, and Eggsy seems to consider something before touching Whiskey’s shoulder and gesturing to the door.
A very late birthday gift for petimetrek. ❤ The pairing is Sarek/Amanda.
~
Most Amenable
“Do you want to stop?”
There was concern present in a familiar female voice and in the way her hands held tightly to his lean torso.
“No…” Sarek groaned out, the word leaving his lips in a deep, soft drawl. Despite his answer, his feet planted against the floor and his eyes closed immediately after, shoulders slumping and head hanging.
With his right hand, Sarek reached out to the wall, digits spreading wide apart from each other and anchoring himself to combat the world that had most curiously become unstable around him. Everything was blurry and sloshing together, a kaleidoscope of colors making him dizzy and confused.
A soft laugh came from beneath his left shoulder, but it wasn’t enough to convince him to open his eyes.
“Sarek.”
He thought he heard his name, but wasn’t exactly sure.
He felt the weight of the woman at his side shift and found himself being gently guided to lean his back into the wall. When he began to slouch, he felt her stepping up to support him, the pleasing sensation of her body barely pressing against his making him crave closer contact.
FantasyBoudicca 