Disclaimer: I don't own "Kingsman: Secret Service" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This is my second work in the fandom so I am mostly just testing the waters. This is set in a post-movie, Harry lives, Hartwin is an established universe sort of thing. – Honestly I have no excuse for myself with this one, it is complete crack.
Warnings: Light Hartwin elements, established relationship, canon appropriate violence, not brit-picked, temporary animal transformation, fluff.
As long as I'm with you (I'll always land on my feet)
Chapter Three
They ended up being dropped off by helicopter along with enough supplies for the next couple of days when Merlin eventually caught sight of the traffic cameras and decided taking Harry along for a couple hours worth of gridlock simply wasn't worth the risk.
He certainly wasn't complaining mind you. After all, there was a reason people took the tube in this city. Besides, as much as he wouldn't have minded the drive, it wasn't exactly like he could stop on the side of the road and let Harry out for a wee when nature called. Something Harry just flicked his tail disdainfully at, when he pointed it out before they clambered inside.
The cat in question disappeared immediately the moment they landed. Dead set on exploring. The propellers were still spinning as he and the pilot watched him bound off, temporarily flattening the thick, heather-tinted brush. Filling the air with the smell of earth and wet as he breathed in the rare sights and smells of the English countryside.
He and his mum had gone on day trips, back before she'd met Dean and had Daisy. But they were nothing like this. Didn't hold a candle if he was bein' honest. This was the type of shit that only existed in postcards and old movies - too idyllic and untouched to be real. Like if you turned a fraction of an inch from the neat little cabin and woodshed, you could almost swear that no human had ever been here, let alone set up shop.
The pilot just fixed him with a look that clearly said good luck mate, you're gonna need it as he grabbed their bags and snagged the keys before waving him off. Clearly glad to be out of range of Mr. Sharp teeth and hooked claws himself. Making him wonder what Merlin had actually said to the man before take-off or if the pilot had just been running with the punches this whole time.
He could see either, frankly. Merlin could be a sadistic bastard when he wanted to be. And right now he had a migraine and computer chair of cat hair to deal with so-
The helicopter was long gone and he had them more or less moved in by the time Harry made a reappearance. Streaking across the front pasture, dead on the heels of a fat looking rabbit. He leaned up against the door jam, just watching. Feeling the raw, primal sort of power second hand as Harry chased it around an old stump and cut it off from its warren. Giving it the ol' round and round before putting on a burst of speed and catching its hind end with razor sharp claws. Tumbling them both into the long grass as the poor rabbit let go of a horrible sound.
"Rank, Harry," he commented without heat as the rabbit's screams suddenly cut off and Harry was striding proudly out of the bush. Mouth full of very dead rabbit as he flopped down close by to enjoy the spoils of his hunt.
"You know Merlin got you all the elk hearts and deer livers you could possibly eat, yeah? He's gonna to be right pissed if you don't touch any of it. Roxy told me he was on the phone with some butcher for over for half an hour, yelling in German and Russian."
Instead of answering Harry just flicked his eyes up at him – bored - before turning back to his rabbit. Pinning the small body between his paws as he set about ripping the fur clear off. The sound alone was enough to make him wrinkle his nose. Remembering something Doctor Chan had said about not being able to digest it like other predators as grey-white fur puffed around Harry's paws in uneven tufts.
He watched for a few minutes before wisely deciding to go inside and make some tea.
Harry or not, that was a bit much.
Even for him.
He was star-fished across the dusty couch, reading on his tablet when Harry nosed open the door and padded inside. He watched him closely, grinning in spite of himself as Harry stalked forward. Eying an overlarge dust bunny like it was potential prey, before startling when he wrenched himself upright and pointed at him with a triumphant- "ah-ha!"
"Been doing some reading while you've been terrorizing the locales," he hummed, waving his tablet lazily. "You were just shadow-stepping, weren't you? Front paws to back so that you leave two foot prints instead of one? Brilliantly clever, Harry. That's what you are."
Harry's tail twitched – amused and maybe a little bit affronted.
"I found a couple of articles, even a documentary. Hard to find apparently. Your lot is a secretive bunch, mysterious even," he remarked with a wink. Nodding companionably as Harry let go of a questioning chirp.
"It's cause of territory mostly, high and remote. Pain in the ass to get a camera crew up there I expect. That and you're a right bitch to collar and track apparently," he continued. "Says here there's only 30,000 left in the wild in the United States."
He figured it was alright to continue when Harry padded closer. Looking around in clear distaste before jumping up on the couch beside him. Stretching out against his side with a yawn that showed a mouthful of fangs and a dark, speckled-pink tongue.
"Says they're solitary, yeah? Not exactly up for smoozing unless they have an itch they need to scratch – December to March mating season apparently," he shared, reading directly from the tablet as he ran his fingers down the soft of the big cat's ears – petting absently.
"Their territory – or ranges, it says here – can be as small as ten miles but get up to almost four hundred in some cases. Apparently the birds are far more practical and have the smaller ones. Whys it always gotta be the boys trying to prove how boss they are anyway? Especially considering they sod off before the real work is done. It's shoddy work, that's what."
Harry shifted against him, getting comfortable as the steady rise and fall of his furry chest turned the world thick and rhythmic. Lulling and peaceable in all the best ways as they enjoyed the moment for what it was. A rare mid-afternoon lie-in.
"It says here that the babies have spots, like a cheetah or somemat' but they lose 'em as they get older. Same with the blue eyes," he added on the tail of his own echoes. "They usually have two to four kits each time 'round. Only, oh- most don't make it. Nature's pretty cruel, huh?"
He frowned, thinking about Professor Kerr and the dying rabbit's screams before shaking it off determinedly. Swiping at his tablet as he clicked play on a youtube video someone had posted of den sounds. Nearly losing it when Harry almost rolled right off the couch in surprise. Head cocking something awful like they'd gone and said a rude word or somemat' as the indignant chirping of newborn kits could be heard from the rear of the den.
"Wot ya' think about that bruv? Ready to go sire yourself a brood?" he snorted, laughing out loud when Harry let out a long suffering groan beside him and hooked his claws gently into the loops of his jeans. Tugging him with the weight just enough to make something warm start to pool in that lonely little corner of him that Harry usually occupied in full force.
He'd never exactly been good at waiting.
But he'd wait a million years for Harry any day of the week.
It wasn't until the sun set and darkness rolled in that boredom hit in full force.
"So, whatcha wanna do?" he questioned, somewhat at a loss. Messing around with a bit of wrapper from his dinner as Harry watched a disgustingly large spider try and scuttle across the floorboards undetected.
"When's the last time you had a holiday, even?" he asked after a moment, looking around the spartan cabin that looked like it hadn't seen a decorator in about forty years and probably never even heard the word telly. "Were the dinosaurs still roamin' or what?"
A good twenty minutes went by before he got anything close to an answer and even then 'answer' was a bit of a stretch. In fact, Harry just flomped in front of the soot-stained hearth, spider pointedly dealt with, panting up at him in clear request.
He sighed. Guess he was making a fuckin' fire then.
They spent the next day dicking around mostly. He followed Harry into the wilds and they ended up hiking and exploring until dusk. Forgetting about responsibilities, the outside world. Even the question of when Harry was going to change back became distant as the big cat led him down a gully-crevasse and, eventually, to a warm, mountain-fed spring.
He stripped down without even thinking about it. Breathing in the mineral-rich musk of the deep woods as he curled his feet into the pebbly bottom and dunked his head. Goading Harry, who was sitting resolutely on the water's edge, with the occasional splash of water just to watch him puff up and hiss like it was the worst thing in the world.
By the time they'd dragged ass home and he'd set Harry on the container of elk hearts and deer livers he'd decided they'd come back here someday. They had to. When Harry was back to rights they'd come back and enjoy it properly. Together. He didn't care what Harry thought about lazy Sundays and vacations. After all they'd been through, he figured they deserved a little slice of the good stuff.
Merlin called for a status report two hours after Doctor Chan's estimate had come and gone. He tried not to take it personally. Feeling like the lowest shite imaginable when Merlin hummed in response. Recognizing pointed disappointment when he heard it before the man reminded him – surprisingly gently – that Harry had never exactly been someone who'd excelled at being on time.
Harry had just sniffed at that, lounging in front of the fire like a sphinx watching the flames.
Otherworldly and aloof.
It wasn't until Harry butted under his palm, insistent and questioning like a tom cat inviting scratches that he realized he'd drifted off. Looking down to find Harry posed primly in front of him. Claws kneading rhythmically into the awful shag carpet in a way he was half sure the man – er, cat – wasn't even aware of.
"Sorry Harry," he exhaled, stretching his fingers out as Harry ducked his head to meet him, purring like a radiator. Yowling quietly, like the man could tell he had something on his mind until he sighed and gave in. "Suppose we're both locked in our own heads a bit."
He let the moment air out for a while before he pulled himself out of the chair by the fire with a groan. Already feeling all their cliff-climbing and tramping around as he pulled his shirt over his head and crawled into the small, double bed he'd pushed up against the far corner of the room the day they'd got here.
Habit, he supposed. Farther from the door. Defendable.
"I just keep wondering. About Professor Kerr- if he messed up or what? Because honestly, sticking a bunch of people with this rot and having it end up like this doesn't seem like what he was aiming for. Were you supposed to go full wild or what?" he questioned softly, distracted enough that when Harry butted his head against his bare legs he nearly toppled over into the mess of sheets. Getting stuck on it as the reality of their situation settled in for the first time since the mission had gone pear-shaped.
This was fucking ridiculous, that's what this was.
His entire life since he'd signed on with Kingsman had been one long weird-ass train wreck he never really wanted to get off of. But seriously, having your boyfriend turned into a Mountain Lion had to rate up there.
"And-" he admitted, blowing out a long pent up breath before ploughing forward. In too deep to do anything else but streak through the finish. "I guess I was thinking about what you said in Professor Kerr's cell."
He closed his eyes. Replaying it. He knew what that admission would have cost him. How much Harry must have been feeling it to say it out loud. On the cusp of that same feeling he'd had inside that church – powerful and powerless. Out of control. The whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth and he wasn't even the one who'd experienced the bloody thing.
"Do what- you have to. Don't let me- not again. Not you. I-"
"Just didn't want you to have to feel like that again, luv," he said, so quiet he wasn't sure if the words had made it to his lips until Harry leapt up beside him. Nuzzling in close until he was laid out flat and Harry was draped on top of him. Wide paws gentle-firm across his bare chest as he looked down at him. Seeming to think about it for a long moment – how it would translate maybe – before a rough tongue rasped like a sloppy kiss across his cheek.
His laugh was dry – more reflexive than anything. Like that was just one of a handful of appropriate responses he could use like a shield. It was more for Harry than anything, or at least that was what he told himself. Hell, he knew Harry like he knew himself. Intimately aware that this, whatever this was, all those uncomfortable feelings and junk, wasn't exactly something they excelled at.
"Its a'ight," he murmured automatically, wondering if the big cat could taste the lie as it left his lips without him really thinking about it. Force of habit. "I'm fine Harry, just miss 'ya is all."
Harry just purred in agreement, tucking his muzzle into the pale of his neck like hearing the slurry of his pulse was a needed comfort. Apparently determined to stick as close as he wanted him to stay as the minutes stretched out. Feeling all the important bits of Harry leak through somehow – refined, honest and comfortingly familiar - until his lids grew heavy and sleep took them both.
He woke up sometime during the night to Harry - gloriously human and splayed out arse naked on top of him - trying to smother a cough into the curl of his forearm.
They breathed like that for a while. Just soaking it in as cold toes grazed between body-warmed sheets and miles of bare skin before he even thought about saying something. Too drunk on the glory of it, of having Harry back, until the desire to make a cheeky comment became a bit too much to resist.
"Oy," he hummed sleepily, turning his head off to the side as the dragging, mussed up feathers of Harry's hair tickled across his nape. "If you have a hairball, I love you and all, but you're on your own, mate."
There was silence after that – comfortable and easy. Figuring Harry was either plotting his death or privately agreeing with him before the chuckles started. He grinned into the mattress as they aired out, deep and rolling. More felt than heard, just like that luxurious purr he almost gotten used to hearing until suddenly Harry was rolling them in the sheets.
He followed him down like a mutual surrender, smothering his face in all that good, musky, Harry-smelling skin. Laughing with him as happy, ridiculous, relieved tears welled up in the corners of his eyes and Harry started sounding like he was choking on top of him. Rib cage doing this weird jumping thing that jerked into his back and left him with barely enough breath to wheeze out with.
"Oy, don't think I'm ever going to let the kitty thing drop, either," he panted dryly, voice breaking when Harry's hips firmed in the press of his ass. Politely hard. Just like most blokes got when they were exceedingly comfortable and with that one person where, no matter what - half-dead, sick or sexy - you'd always manage to get it up for.
And true to form, Harry didn't seem fussed about doing anything about it as he stayed where he was. Half on top of him and suffocating him slowly. Letting the sharp of his nails shiver down the inside of his spine, just like Harry knew he liked as dawn threatened on the other side of the curtains.
"Or how much your liked those ear scratches either," he sassed, because now that everything was how it should be, he just couldn't resist. I've earned all the blackmail material I need for the rest of me sodding life, I figure."
He got perturbed noise and a smack on the arse for that one, but hell of it wasn't worth it.
After all, how couldn't it be?
He'd gotten Harry back, hadn't he?
"You smelled like mine," Harry thrummed, sometime later when the laughter had faded and he was at the point where the man was almost too heavy on top of him.
"That whole time, Christ, my dear boy, you have no idea-" he broke off, nosing into his nape and inhaling audibly. One hand reeling out to firm around the curl of his throat. Squeezing just enough for him to go boneless as the man rubbed his face down the knobs of his spine. A low, contented sound building like a growl in the back of his throat as Harry's free hand started roaming.
And okay- yeah, suddenly there were a whole lot of other, far more interesting things to think about than telling Harry to shove off 'im.
A/N #1: Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! Reviews and constructive critiquing are love! – This story is now complete.
