fucking_gentleman | (no subject)

Entry tags:

eggsy/gawain,
psl

(no subject)

[Continued from here]

Harry was not aware of the fight that happened when Eggsy went back to HQ.

He wasn't aware that Merlin had visited him twice since he woke up from his coma, because both times his brain had struggled with the damage and flood of memories and promptly failed to cope. He never managed to make an actual memory of Merlin's visits, because his memory centres had been too inflamed at that stage.

He may never know how gutted Merlin was to find that Harry was alive, but still just as gone as before and that he had agreed with the treating specialists to give Harry space to heal and recover before they did anything about trying to get his memory recovered.

Harry was not as well recovered as Harry thought he was, or managed to present.

But it was agreed that they wouldn't move him from where he was. The staff there were briefed on his situation, there was security in place and it wasn't worth the fight with both Eggsy AND Harry to get him moved.

Eggsy was told not to visit, to let Harry recover physically.

Harry, on the other hand, got out to the phone and managed to dial the number on the back of the medal and then gave what he assumed was the pass code of Oxfords, not Brogues.

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Dammit, dammit, dammit. He was doing okay. He was being a strong agent, a Kingsman. He wasn't even sure which one hit him that hard. Harry remembering JB, or that touch.

His eyes closed, so tight, painfully so, fighting the tears. "You didn't. You did your job. Don't worry though. The bastard that shot you paid for it." Not enough though. Not nearly fucking enough. "I did my job though, Harry. Promise. I did everything that you'd be proud. Every day."

Bugger propriety.

Harry sat himself up, tugging the boy in against him. He desperately needed some contact, someone to hold him and promise that it was all right.

"I am proud, of everything I've heard and everything I've extrapolated. You are an exceptional young man and no one can take that away from you. Not even me."

Oh! Oh that. He hesitated only a minute before he was wrapping his arms around Harry, trying to be gentle and cling at the same time.

"I let you down, and then I embarrassed you," he whispered. "I'm sorry." They were words in his head for months now, words he had whispered at night when he'd slowed down and had nothing to think about but Harry.

Harry didn't try to stand, just pulled Eggsy down into his embrace and held him. The poor boy was a bit of a wreck under a neatly polished exterior and if Harry could in some fashion kick the butt of the man he was for contributing to that, he would.

"You're forgiven," he murmured softly. "You're all forgiven, Eggsy."

"Thank you." He nearly choked on the gratitude, never thinking he would hear those words. Not from the man holding him. "I made it better though. You know that." Even if he only got the chance because of Valentine shooting one of the most important people in his life. "But I would have given it all up for you not to die," he whispered.

"I have no doubt." He didn't. Eggsy was competent and driven. "But I'm not dead. I'm not even in a coma. I'm right here."

"I know. I know you are, and don't matter if you're just Harry for ever. Don't matter." He was alive, that was all that mattered.

He didn't want to pull away, but part of him thought he should. Leaning only a bit, trying to make himself calm. For the sake of the man Harry had been grooming him to be. "I won't let you down again, Harry. I swear."

Harry let him lean back, reflexively finding himself neatening up Eggsy's hair with his fingers. "I doubt you ever did, Eggsy. Even if I was angry, or upset, you didn't let me down."

He smiled at that touch, liking that Harry did that. All of it more than he thought he might have, more than he would have dreamt of having if he hadn't lost Harry.

"Yeah well... when you get your memory back, I ain't holding you to those words, okay? But thank you. You don't know how much it means, Harry." But he expected that would change when he remembered. He'd just work harder when the time came.

Harry gave Eggsy a smile. It came easily, more easily than most of his smiles had recently.

"Next time you visit, you should bring something to help me remember more. The sooner I remember, the sooner we'll find out if you're right, or if I am."

That smile about sent him simpering. Fucking hell, what even was happening to him? He had held himself much better around Harry than this before. Yet he smiled back, nodding.

"I will. I can think of some things. Stuffed dog not included," he said, almost rolling his eyes even as he thought about all the things he could bring, what might work the best. "Just let me know when you want company. Unless they've got me off playing charming and sexy, I'll be here."

"Three days," Harry decided. "Come back in three days. I have tests and physical therapy for the next couple of days and I'll be miserable company after it."

He needed a bit of time to work some things out for himself.

"Three days. By then I might not be chained to the bed," he said, giving a nod and a wink, definitely not serious. At least he hoped not.

"Harry? Please don't push yourself too hard. It's because of you I'm this determined," he pointed out, because he suspected Harry would do the same thing.

"I have a small army of nurses and doctors telling me exactly how hard I should or should not push myself. I'll be fine."

Hopefully, in and out before he was noticed as missing. Or not.

Eggsy leaned in hugging him once more quickly before backing up and straightening. "Right so... Three days," he said, giving a nod. "And course you'll be fine. You're Harry Hart," he said, knowing he was acting like a sappy idiot, but he couldn't help himself.

Harry gave him a tight squeeze back and then leaned into his bed again. "Three days," he agreed quietly.

Eggsy turned, heading for the door. He stopped, glancing back. He stared at Harry for a moment and then he was gone. A stop at the nurse's station, and then he was out a side door, disappearing into the crowd. Half an hour and he'd be back at the tailor shop, braced for what would happen and not giving a damn. It was worth it.

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