Everything is Elletromil's fault. She prompted me: "Harry and Egssy getting stuck in an elevator on the 31st and being stuck there until new year
They are both strangers and single
At the end it seems as if they've known each other all their life and they very much a couple"
As usual, all the love to LunarNightshade for awesome titling skills. She's spoiled me for ever being able to title things on my own.
Eggsy's eyes slipped closed as the lift ground to a halt. He was well-acquainted with that sound; it meant they were fucked, him and his companion, an older bloke in some posh suit and carrying an umbrella.
The man didn't look perturbed, though. He pressed the alarm button, trying to let someone—anyone—know they were there. Eggsy tugged his phone out, but of course there was no signal in the lift.
"They ain't comin', guv," Eggsy said. "S'New Year's Eve. Ain't nobody comin' to get us out. We're here till morning." Which meant he was going to miss Roxy's party, and he wouldn't be getting any midnight kiss from anyone. Shame.
"Nonsense. Someone will be along shortly to aid us."
Eggsy scoffed. "I've seen enough horror films to know we're prolly gonna die here," he said, sliding down the cold metal wall opposite the other man. "Cable's gonna snap and flatten us both at the bottom. Filter malfunction an' we suffocate. Starve to death if we don't get found for weeks. Or you might jus' be the Devil himself come to take me soul." Sure, it was all highly unlikely, and they'd just be stuck for the night, but stranger things had happened and it would just be Eggsy's shit luck if he got murdered in a lift on New Year's Eve.
The other man laughed, joining Eggsy on the floor, though he still sat like he had a silver spoon stuck too far up his arse for it to be comfortable. "I'm sure it won't be as bad as all that, and I'm certainly no devil," he said. "I'm Harry Hart."
"Eggsy Unwin," the younger man replied, almost as if challenging Harry to comment on his moniker, but Harry was silent for a while. Eggsy tugged his snapback off, eyes closed as he rest it against the wall, trying not to be too miserable about missing out on the festivities of the night.
"I do apologise that your plans for the evening have been altered," Harry said eventually, and Eggsy laughed.
"Bruv, ain't your fault. Your plans're changed, too, yeah?"
"I was just heading home to spend the evening alone," Harry admitted. "I'm a bit past the age where I attend parties or count down to midnight."
Eggsy scoffed. "Nah, s'great—a reminder that you made it through another year, innit? Spend the time with your mates. Surely you ain't so old they's all dead yet," he added teasingly.
Harry rolled his eyes. "No, Eggsy. However, they're all busy with their own lives and families tonight, and it's certainly not my place to intrude." He paused, studying Eggsy in a way that made the boy feel a little self-conscious, dressed as he was in his flashy designer clothes. He looked nothing like the proper posh gentleman Harry did. "What about you? What were your plans?"
"Was going to a friend's party. Roxy," Eggsy added, then pulled out his phone and showed Harry a picture of the two of them. "She's ace. Don't care that I haven't got the breedin' she does."
"How did you meet her?"
"Her dad was my CO when I was in trainin' for the RMC," Eggsy said. "Used to sneak off-base an' meet 'er for dinner."
"So she's your—"
"No! Fuck, no, Rox's like a sister to me," Eggsy interrupted as soon as he realised what Harry was getting at. "She ain't my type anyway. Nah, guv, was just goin' to her party, see if I could hook up with any of her mates for the evenin'." He hesitated, just watching Harry across from him, pulling out his phone to check something—probably, like Eggsy, the reception. Fucking useless; if it hadn't worked half an hour ago, it wasn't going to magically improve itself. "Don't you have someone waitin' on you? Anyone at all?"
"Nobody will be looking for me until Monday," Harry said, "when the shop reopens after the holidays."
"Shop?"
"I own a tailor shop on Savile Row," Harry explained, pulling a card from his pocket and passing it to Eggsy. "After we're rescued, feel free to come by."
Eggsy scoffed. "Bet that tie you're wearin' cost more'n I ever seen in my life," he admitted.
"We can work something out. I offer discounts for military personnel," Harry offered, and Eggsy shook his head.
"Ain't military. Quit for me sis. Take care of her most," Eggsy admitted, eyes downcast. He knew how people looked at his sort.
"Then a job," Harry said. "We can work around your sister."
Eggsy, a tailor? Well, it wasn't like he had anything to lose. "Yeah, all right."
Harry smiled, asking more questions about Eggsy's sister, and Eggsy relaxed more and more, showing Harry picture of the girl. She was the light of his life, the only good thing to come out of the estate. In turn, Harry told Eggsy about his friends and the shop, and his old pet dog, Mr. Pickle, who currently resided above the downstairs toilet in his house. Eggsy's sides hurt from laughing so much at the man's stories—he was a great storyteller, and he'd had an exciting life, far from the low-class existence Eggsy had endured for 24 years.
It didn't even matter that Eggsy had a very strong and rather negative opinion of the higher classes; Harry was kind and funny and absolutely gorgeous.
Eggsy couldn't remember the last time he'd had such fun, and the hours flew by with both of them inching closer to the other, until their arms were pressed together and Eggsy's head was against Harry's shoulder, barely able to breathe after the man had recounted a tale of a trip to Kentucky where he'd been invited to a church mass that had ended with the entire congregation turning against him for his homosexual proclivities. He even had a scar to remind him of the insanity of some people, but he was really no worse for wear, for which Eggsy was glad.
Had something worse happened, he might never have met Harry.
They were sitting there in comfortable silence when Eggsy's alarm went off and they both startled.
"Midnight," he said. "Happy New Year, Harry."
Harry smiled softly. "Happy New Year, Eggsy," he replied, one hand cupping Eggsy's cheek as he pulled the boy in for a kiss. Eggsy didn't resist; all evening had been leading to this, and it felt right.
"You're a dirty liar, Harry Hart," Eggsy whispered as they parted. "You told me you wasn't no devil, but pretty sure no one short o' him has a tongue that wicked." Before getting an answer, though, he pulled Harry close for another kiss, just as wicked as the first, and just as wicked as every kiss that followed.
By morning, Eggsy was sure they'd both wholeheartedly agree that getting trapped was the best thing that had ever happened to either of them.
