Eggsy is thirty-one and goes down to the tech department because he fucked up another pair of glasses, the offending device in his breast pocket and two cups of coffee in his hands, one of them with too much sugar for himself and one black and far too strong for Merlin. It's a peace offering and Eggsy has the feeling he'll need it – this is the third time this year he has to request a new pair of glasses.
Unlike Tristan, like Merlin will undoubtedly remind him, who has been wearing his for the past decade without as much as scratching them.

Only that Merlin isn't there when Eggsy kicks open the door to his office like he does every time, ignoring all that talk about knocking. Instead, there is a young man sitting in the older man's chair, dark hair and bright eyes, typing away on his tablet. Eggsy has never seen him before.
"'Sup?", he asks without looking up, and Eggsy raises an eyebrow, asks, "An' who would ya be?"
The man tears his eyes away from the display, half a smile on his lips before he has even looked at Eggsy properly. "Elyan. Well, that's the code name, at least, but I guess it's enough for now? I'm the new guy."

"I noticed that", Eggsy answers dryly, sets down Merlin's cup of coffee anyway. "I'm Eg-Galahad. Since code names are enough."
"Nice to meet you, Gary Lee Unwin", Elyan answers with a cheeky grin and after another few clicks and swipes on his tablet.
He should be annoyed, Eggsy thinks, and yet he can't help but chuckle. "Well played."
"They don't just hire anyone for this." Elyan leans back, taking Merlin's cup of coffee with him as he props his feet up on the other man's desk as if it was his own, a perfect picture of cocky attitude until he takes a sip of the coffee, all but spits it out again. "Oh fuck, that is vile!"
Eggsy likes him already.

Eggsy is thirty-one, it's Tuesday and Harry has left for work early in the morning, with just a peck on his cheek and a few, soft words which Eggsy didn't understand, still too tired, when the phone rings. It's not his mobile, but the landline which Harry insists on keeping, although Eggsy tells him time and time again that it makes the house look even more old-fashioned.

At first, he doesn't even want to pick up, wants to stay right where he is with his cup of tea and buttered toast – since he moved in, the phone has only rung two or three times, so how important can it be? – but he gives in in the end, when the ringing just won't stop.
He expects someone trying to convert him to some cult, or maybe someone trying to sell him an insurance , but it's Roxy's voice in his ear as soon as he has picked up.
"Why the fuck don't you answer your phone?", she demands to know without even greeting first, sounding far more frustrated than she has any right to at this time of day.
"What? I dunno, must've left it on silent, ya know how that happens." Eggsy pushes a hand through his hair, which is getting just a little bit too long at the back, wonders just what is so important it would make Roxy call him at home. "What's up?"
"You've got to come over", Roxy all but orders, and Eggsy wants to say no, but then she continues, changes his mind with only four words. "I might be pregnant."

Eggsy is thirty-one and waits in front of the bathroom while Roxy pees on a pregnancy test, tells him about the nine days her period is late.
"-and you know, now with Harry, it could mean that- well, it's possible, isn't it?"
Eggsy hears the toilet flush, dares to peek into the bathroom a few moments later; it's a strange thing since they have seen each other naked countless times before, and yet it feels too intimate now. "But like, ya do use protection, don't ya?"
Roxy isn't facing him, turned towards the sink to wash her hands, but they have been friends for long enough that Eggsy notices it when her body tenses, her shoulders draw up just a little bit.
"Oh. My. God."

"It was just a couple of times!", Roxy tries to defend herself, whips around to glare at Eggsy, even if the effect is ruined slightly by the blush high on her cheeks.
"But why? Ya a clever girl, Rox, ya know what can happen."
"Well…" The blush on Roxy's cheeks deepens and Eggsy knows what she will say before she gets the chance to. "There is the possibility that I don't really mind it. The pregnancy thing, I mean. We weren't trying or anything, but it was… well, it was a risk we were both willing to take, I guess?"
She looks a little bit helpless and Eggsy feels everything at once, confused and shocked and scared and happy. "Oh wow."

He drops down on the floor, leaning against the bathroom wall and Roxy joins him several moments later, still holding the pregnancy test.
"So, what are we hopin' for?", Eggsy asks after they have been quiet for far too long; next to him, Roxy shrugs.
"I don't know? Part of me is terrified that it might be positive and part of me would be deliriously fucking happy."
"You never said anything."

Again a shrug, then Roxy lets her head fall back against the wall with a thud. "I didn't know how to. It wasn't a definitive thing, not even a plan, just a feeling. I always wanted to have children, and I always put it off, but I'm thirty-two and I'm not getting younger…and as Lancelot, I don't know how much time I have anyway, so why put it off?"
It does make sense, Eggsy has to admit that, even if he doesn't get to say anything about it, not yet.
"And Harry wants kids", Roxy continues, sounding bashful and happy, even if still a little helpless. "He never- he won't say it out-loud, only ever talks about someday but I know it, I can just feel it somehow. And he would make such a good dad."

"I didn't even know ya two were that serious" Eggsy answers and it feels like a confession, like admitting that both of them have spent too little time together lately, haven't fallen out of touch, but have stopped with late-night phone calls and evenings spent in a pub, movie nights.
"I didn't realise it either at first", Roxy answers, "But I think we were always serious somehow. I don't think he does anything but serious, ever."
"Well, that's at least somethin' our Harrys have in common."

Silence follows, but not the tense, uncomfortable kind, instead the kind of silence Eggsy has come to associate with the nights he spent with Roxy at her flat, companionable, filled with the knowledge that they could talk about anything, should they want to.
"Do you think five minutes have passed?", Roxy finally asks, sounding even more helpless, even more scared and Eggsy reaches out to take her hand, nods.
"Well then."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Roxy is thirty-two and there are two pink lines in the little display and Eggsy squeezes her hand tightly, not sure if he needs to comfort or congratulate her.
He isn't sure if even Roxy knows, who just stares at the little device in her hand, as if she couldn't make it out, couldn't comprehend what the test said.
"Not pregnant then", she finally mutters, and Eggsy can hear it in her voice, has pulled her into his arms before she starts sobbing.

Eggsy is thirty-one and they eat instant ramen and ice cream in front of the TV, Roxy wrapped into a blanket and with her eyes still red-rimmed.

Eggsy is thirty-one, comes home in the morning instead of at night, after having slept only a few hours and those on Roxy's sofa, next to and half on top of her.
Harry is having breakfast in the kitchen, a cup of tea and a bit of toast still in his hand when Eggsy finds him, forcing him to remember that the text he wanted to send Harry about not coming back home is still on his phone and not on Harry's.
"Mornin' love", he greets, hoping he looks as apologetic as he feels when he leans down to kiss Harry on the cheek.
"Good morning", Harry answers, his brow furrowing for a moment, before he adds, "You smell like alcohol. And cigarettes."

"Huh?" Eggsy pulls his shirt up to his face, breathing in, and Harry is right, he does. It takes a moment or two until he can remember why; last night was far too long, far too messy. "Oh, yeah. Me and Rox had a bit too much wine and shared a smoke or two, can't remember anymore."
Harry nods, and Eggsy can see that he doesn't quite know what to think. He should try and change that, but it's been too long a night and he's too tired to care, so he doesn't, just pecks the other's cheek again, refrains from ruffling his hair.
Asks, "Will it be a problem if I come to work a lil bit later today? I just really need a good night's sleep… at eleven in the mornin'."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Harry is fifty-seven, knocks politely at the door to Eggsy's office, as if trying to make a point even after all these years, comes in with a small container in one hand, white plastic and so inconspicuous that Eggsy zeroes in on it immediately.
"What's that?", he asks before Harry has even set the box down in front of him, making the other chuckle.
"Patience is a virtue, you know that, don't you, my heart?"
"Yeah, but a completely overrated one." Eggsy still waits for the other to slide the box over before he opens it, the scent of butter and pastries enveloping him immediately, making his mouth water.

"Oh, sod off", he mutters to himself, even while he reaches inside to grab one of the still-warm scones, stuffing it into his mouth in one piece. "Fuck, I love ya, Harry Hart."
"I love you too", Harry responds easily and with a smile, while he steals one of the scones for himself, delicately breaking off a part before popping it into his mouth, ever the gentleman.

It would be enough, Eggsy could just get back to devouring the rest of the scones, but it doesn't feel right somehow – ever since he has gotten back from his medical leave, it feels like they haven't been able to spend any time together, at least compared to the near always before, and Eggsy misses it, the lazy mornings and the long talks, the easy kisses and the constant touches.
So Eggsy reaches out instead, his fingers still stained with butter, covered in crumbs, takes Harry's hand and squeezes. "I mean it, I love ya. Don't know if I say it often enough."

And it must have been the right thing to say, because Harry looks up with his eyes bright even behind his glasses, his fingers curling around Eggsy's own. "I love you too."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Harry is fifty-seven, brought him lunch, just instant soup today, but better than nothing. They are eating out of the tea mugs, Harry with a spoon, Eggsy just taking sips, and Elyan barges into the room without knocking, which makes Harry raise an eyebrow and Harry grin widely.
"What's up?", he asks the younger man, who is looking at Harry for a moment, before focussing his entire attention on Eggsy.
"Nothing, really, just wanted to ask if you had any time to come by later, I got some of that chai you liked so much last time, and I wanted to ask you something about that mission you've got next week to Nairobi." He looks a little nervous, and Eggsy lets his smile widen; he still remembers how frightening everything about Kingsman could be, the responsibility, the danger.

"Sure, just gimme a few minutes to finish this and I'll come over. But just 'cause that chai was aces last time."
"Great." Elyan smiles, then adds, just before he leaves, "See you later, then. And you, Arthur."

He leaves, and Harry doesn't turn around, but when Eggsy looks back at him, there is a hint of a smile on his lips, even if he is still sipping soup. "You seem to be getting on well. I thought you might."
"Yeah, he's a sweet kid", Eggsy answers, leans back again, takes a gulp of his soup; even if he loves these lunches they have together, he doesn't want to keep Elyan waiting for too long, especially not when it's something mission-related. "And, I dunno. I can remember how scary everything here was and he doesn't have ya to take care o' him, so I'm trying to do that a bit, I guess?"
"That's very noble of you", Harry responds, obviously teasing. "But it's always good to be friends with your handler."
"Ya would know."
"Oh yes, I do." Harry brings the mug to his lips, drinks the last bit of soup directly from it, before he sets it down. "But now, don't let me keep you when work is calling."

Eggsy is thirty-one and after one afternoon Eggsy spends at home with both Daisy, who seems to grow taller every time he sees her, and JB, the curtains in the living room are not what they once were, ripped and painted red and blue instead of their former beige.
There are still smudges of paint on Daisy's cheeks and underneath her fingernails when Michelle comes to pick her up, and Eggsy doesn't even try to get the curtains fixed, only waits for Harry to come home so he can confess.

Which doesn't take long, because it's late already and Harry promised to be home for dinner, and it turns out that there is no need to confess at all, because Harry sees the mess his little sister and former dog have caused before Eggsy can say a word.
He's still in the kitchen when the older man slides up behind him, wraps his arms around Eggsy's middle and pulls him closer, resting his chin on Eggsy's shoulder. "Could it be that you invited your sister over today?"
The question is asked with an absolutely innocent tone of voice, and Eggsy nods, bites his lips almost a little nervously.

But Harry doesn't reprimand him, doesn't scold, just lets his fingers travel up Eggsy's sides, mutters, "Well, I never really liked those curtains anyway."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Harry is fifty-seven, somehow lets himself be convinced to go shopping in IKEA instead of the posh shops he'd preferred. It's just for Eggsy's sake, obviously, who is even happier when he gets to drag Harry through seemingly endless halls of bedrooms and kitchens and hallways.
It feels so normal somehow, like something a completely regular couple would do, and Eggsy relishes in it, ignores the way people stare and takes Harry's hand in between the kitchen tables and the closets and doesn't let go until they are at the cash register, have to pay for the three sets of curtains, the new bathroom rug, the pug-printed blanket, the couch table Eggsy feel in love with at first sight and the handful of other knickknacks Eggsy talked Harry into getting.

They put the table together when they get home with Harry only threatening to throw it out twice, and Eggsy just cursing his whole existence one time, vow to throw the old one out the very next day. Afterwards, Eggsy makes hot chocolate while Harry puts up the curtains they finally decided on, and they curl up on the sofa, covered by the fluffy blanket.
And with Harry idly switching through channels, sipping his hot chocolate out of the mug Eggsy gave him last Christmas, Eggsy realises just what makes this so important – although they have been living here together for more than a year, these are the first things they picked out together, as a couple.

"Why are you smiling?", Harry asks, pulls Eggsy back to reality, and Eggsy shrugs, cuddles closer, although he's already a little too hot under the blanket.
"No reason, really", he mutters, steals a sip of Harry's hot chocolate, because his own cup is too far away. "Just glad to be here. With you."

Eggsy is thirty and Merlin is fifty-five, says, "I'm going to let Elyan handle your mission, Galahad. God knows it's not a dangerous one and the kid needs practice."
"Alright, but-" Eggsy starts, but there is the tell-tale clicking sound of Merlin logging off in his ear, so he just sighs, squints out into the vast desert stretching out in front of him until there is another clicking, another voice.

"Galahad, my man!", Elyan drawls into the microphone, the sound of typing almost drowning out his voice for a moment. "How's beautiful Egypt today?"
"Sunny", Eggsy responds, shielding his eyes from the sun with the back of his hand. "Fuckin' hot, lemme tell ya."
The other man lets out something like a snort, says, "You Brits and your inability to cope with anything but rain, Jesus."

He could be offended, but Eggsy has never really seen the point of that, so instead he asks, "Where's you from anyway?"
For a few moments, there is silence, and Eggsy uses it to check his watch, then, with his voice guarded, less cheerful, Elyan asks, "What do you mean?"
"Think I can't tell when someone's from the fuckin' States?", Eggsy asks back, "I did watch The OC when I was younger, don't think I'm an amateur."
"The OC?", Elyan laughs, even if a second too late, but his voice is carefree again. "Fuck, Galahad, how old are ya? I thought you and Lancelot were supposed to be the young, cool ones."

"We are!" Eggsy is laughing too, flips Elyan off through the feed of his glasses. "Try an' find one other agent who knows anythin' that came out after the 90s- or wait, scratch that, bruv. I made Arthur watch the last two Mad Max movies with me in the cinema. He even liked them."
"Seriously?" Elyan sounds like he can't believe a word Eggsy is saying and Eggsy can't blame him; he most likely wouldn't either.
"Promise. I'll make him take me to the next one too."
"Pics or it didn't happen."

Eggsy is thirty-one and comes back to England, tanned and with a sunny smile, finds Harry in his office at HQ. He plops down on Harry's lap instead of on the chair in front of the desk, wraps his arms around the other's neck; it's been fifteen days since they have last seen each other and Eggsy has missed him so much.
"Hello, my heart", Harry greets with a smile and a kiss to Eggsy's cheek, his arms slowly circling Eggsy's hips. "How was Egypt? Did they treat you well?"
"Very much so, even. Missed ya though, like, in between of punching arms dealers in the face." He's grinning and Harry smiles back, is still smiling when Eggsy kisses him properly – not passionately, that can wait until they get home, but deeply enough to feel like he has his old life back again. "Ya wanna cook tonight or should we order in?"

"Depends on your plans, my heart", Harry answers, brushes their lips together against, only that he nips at Eggsy's lower lip this time, a silent promise. "Do you want to eat or do you want me to tie you up and suck your cock until you can't remember your own name anymore?"
It's not really a question Eggsy needs to answer.

Eggsy is thirty-one and rummages through his bag, trying to find the tacky souvenir he got for Harry while he was waiting at the airport, since Merlin had decided that it'd be less suspicious if he'd just mingle with the tourists waiting to go back to their boring jobs, their boring lives.
"I swear I had it somewhere, I just- ah!" With a triumphant little sound, Eggsy pulls out two snow globes out of his back, one with a golden Sphynx in the middle, one with three tiny pyramids. "Ya get to choose one, because ya my favourite."

"Choose?", Harry leans forward in his seat a little, but looks at Eggsy instead of at the globes. "Why's that? Is the other one for Roxy?"
"Nah." Eggsy gives the other a smile, sets the snow globes down on the kitchen table, where Harry can still see them. "'S for Elyan, y'know, that new guy down at the tech department? Kinda tall, dark hair, American…"
Harry's brow furrows for a moment and there is a moment, maybe not even quite that long, where an expression flits across the other's handsome features which Eggsy can't quite decipher, then it softens once more. "Oh, yes. I remember. That is very kind of you."

Eggsy laughs softly, brushes his fingertips across the back of Harry's hand, which is spread out on the desk. "Ya know me, I like to please."

Eggsy is thirty-one, says, "You don't call me darling anymore."
They're curled up on the sofa in Harry's office, Harry going over some old reports and Eggsy switching between sending Roxy texts and reading through some research he has to do for a mission in Auckland he has to go on soon.
"Hm?"
Harry tears his eyes away from his folder, looks over at him and Eggsy doesn't really know why he is asking.
"Oh, it's just..", he tries to explain, not really sure how to, "I dunno. Ya used to call me darlin' a lot and ya don't anymore. Not that I mind, apparently ya have more than enough pet names to last a lifetime."

Eggsy adds a smile to the last few words, trying to make sure that Harry knows he isn't mad, isn't trying to criticise at all. It's just something he noticed lately, something he couldn't quite understand.
"Oh." Harry sits up straighter, closes the folder, but he doesn't seem angry, only surprised. "Well… Oh, you'll call me a sap, you will. You know that I had lovers before you, don't you?"
Eggsy nods; he knows and he doesn't mind it - in fact, anything else would make him feel horrible, thinking about Harry being alone for all these years.
"And I called so many of them darling, or love, or dear, and it just didn't feel right anymore, it needed to be something different."

He's not quite, but almost, sure that there is a hint of a flush on Harry's cheeks, that his eyes keep flickering downwards slightly more often. He's embarrassed, and it's adorable.
"When I saw you on that hospital bed, not even conscious, it felt like my heart had stopped. And it fit somehow. My heart."

Eggsy is thirty-one and he's in the kitchen, making tea for him and Ector, who is still the new guy, although he's been a Kingsman for more than a year now and the best marksman they have, when the door opens and two children run into the kitchen, followed by Albert, who would look like Gawain, if not for the smile on his lips.
"Oh 'ello", Eggsy greets, feeling a grin turning the corners of his lips upwards as well. "Who would ya two be, then?"

He knows who they are – Albert has showed him more than enough pictures of his two kids for Eggsy to know them anywhere, even if he has never met the two of them before – but the two children straighten up anyway, both grinning up at him.
"Peter and Susy", Albert introduces them, even if the girl's brow furrows, and she corrects, "Susan!"
"Well, pleased to meet ya then, Peter and Susan."

Eggsy holds out his hand and both shake it, then he turns to Albert. "How come ya could bring 'em here? Did Harry do somethin' he needed to make up for? And if so, can ya tell me what?"
"Unfortunately not." Albert laughs, ruffles his son's hair. "I would love to help you to blackmail your boyfriend, but this time, at least, he just said yes out of the goodness of his heart."
"Awww." Eggsy pouts a little bit, but doesn't mean it, turns around to pick up the two steeping mugs of tea. "I'll be off, but if ya want to drop these two off with me a bit later to get some work done, I could show 'em around the gardens or somethin'. I just have to do some research to do today, wouldn't be a bother at all."
"Oh, that'd be great, I've got to pop down to see Merlin, I fucked up another one of my watches."
"He's gonna kill ya", Eggsy answers with a far too wide grin, takes a sip of tea and promptly burns his lips. "It's the, what, third one this year?"
"Don't remind me." Albert sighs, opens the fridge to take out two chocolate bars he hands to his kids, who start unwrapping them happily. "Make sure my funeral is beautiful."
"Will do, mate, will do."

Eggsy is thirty-one and spends one and a half hours with Susan and Peter, showing them the grounds of the manor, the old, dusty basement, everything in between. They chatter and laugh and run around, and Eggsy, who still misses his sister more than anything, feels more than a little lighter when he finally goes home.

Eggsy is thirty-one and goes to Nairobi without the kiss he usually gets from Harry in the morning; the other man is busy in Belfast, can't come to see him off. He understands it, of course, but there's nothing done against it, so instead of a kiss, he gets a text from Harry, telling him to come home safe.

He does.

Eggsy is thirty-one and Harry is fifty-seven, is home when Eggsy arrives back; it's so late that even Merlin agreed to let him come back the next morning for his debriefing.
It's way past one in the morning and yet Eggsy knows that the other is awake the second he walks into the house, toes his shoes off; it smells like fish and chips.
"Harry?", he calls into the kitchen, and the older man's head pops out of the kitchen, a pleasant smile on his lips.
"Oh, Eggsy! I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Oh, don't pretend that ya not happy that ya can see my pretty face again already", Eggsy replies with a grin, walks to the kitchen a bit faster than maybe necessary; it's only been two days since he has last seen Harry, but it still feels like far too long, no matter how successful the mission was.
"I'm immensely happy, even. Especially because that pretty face hasn't been smashed in like some times before this."
"Oh no, Elyan took good care o' me", Eggsy replies, kisses Harry on the lips as soon as he can, melting a bit against the older man. Once the kiss ends, Eggsy kisses Harry again, just because he can, and the other's arms wrap around him, pulling closer.
"I'll have to thank him for that, then", he mutters, right against Eggsy's lips. "I missed you."
"I missed ya too. Always."

Eggsy is thirty-one and has to stop in the middle of his work-out because his ankle stings whenever he sets his foot down. He twisted it during warming up, something that happens far too easily nowadays, even if he tries his best to forget about that.
He has spent enough time being useless.

Eggsy is thirty-one and Daisy turns ten years old, is even more excited than the other nine times before, because there are two numbers now instead of one.
It's adorable, and Harry seems absolutely charmed when he takes them both out for lunch, asks Daisy about school and her friends and her teachers, smiles when she laughs and tells her to order two desserts instead of one.

They have met before, but only ever briefly, and Eggsy delights in watching them together, the sister he adores and the man he loves more than life itself.
Harry lets Daisy steal bites of the chocolate cake he is having, pretending not to notice, although there is chocolate covering her mouth, her fingers and Eggsy shoots him a smile across the table, knowing he has to look absolutely smitten with the older man. Who doesn't even seem to notice at first, just laughs softly at something Daisy has said, before he catches Eggsy's eyes across the table.
"What?", he asks, and Eggsy just continues smiling for a few moments, then shrugs.
"Nothin'. Just… I like this a lot. Ya and me and the lil' princess here, it's nice."
"You're right, it is."

Harry's tone is soft, happy, and Eggsy wants to reach out to take the other's hand, but Harry ruins that plan before he can start – he leans across the table to kiss Eggsy sweetly, both of them ignoring Daisy's yell of, "Gross!"

Eggsy is thirty-one and Harry is fifty-seven, asks, "Do you have any plans for tonight?"
"No", Eggsy answers without thinking, around a bite of falafel. "No, wait, yeah, I do. Elyan asked to go over some things with me, so I might be home a bit later than usually. Did ya want to do anythin' special?"
Harry is looking at him blankly for a second, then shakes his head slightly, almost to himself. "No, not at all. I just thought we could go and see a movie, maybe, they do have one of those new 4D theatres in the city."

"Aww." Eggsy pouts a little; they don't go out all too often, and he always enjoys it. Not to mention that he loves going to the cinema. "Maybe another time? I'm dyin' to try out that shit, Rox and Haz told me about some movie they saw last week and the smells were intense, they said."
"I'm sure we'll find time", Harry reassures, squeezes his hand before he gets up, no doubt to go to another boring meeting. "Have fun with Elyan."

Eggsy is thirty-one and the world goes to shit. At first, it's just another crisis, but then it's so much more, it's some organisation infiltrating the British parliament, then one in the Russian Federalnoye Sobraniye as well, one in the Indian Rajya Sabha and the Lok Sabha, the United State Congress.
No one knows how they missed this, but they did, and Eggsy has never heard Harry curse this much, has never heard him that frustrated, that scared. It makes it even more terrifying, more real, and although he desperately wishes he could, he doesn't even have time to get his goodbye kiss from Harry, before he leaves for New Delhi.

It's only in the plane when he gets to even send a text, and although it shouldn't matter anymore, because everything around him is falling apart, because millions of people could die, once the nuclear weapons owned by those countries fall into the wrong hands, but it still makes him feel so much worse. Especially because Eggsy doesn't know when he'll be back, if he'll be back.
He doesn't want the last memory Harry has of him to be a silent breakfast they spent together.

See you when I get back, stay safe, he texts, I love you.

Eggsy is thirty-one and New Delhi is hot and humid, the air almost too heavy to breathe, and Eggsy finds that everything is even worse than they thought. Back in London, Merlin has gone quiet for a long, long time, ever since Eggsy has arrived in the Indian HQ, an agent named Shiva greeting him with a blank face and a trembling handshake.
They thought that it would only be small parts of the Lok Sabha, the lower house of India' Parliament, about half of the Rajya Sabha, the upper house, but it turns out that it's more than half of the Lok Sabha and almost all of the Rajya Sabha, which is less, but still too powerful. If the president is still one of them, or has been turned too, they don't know, but Eggsy desperately hopes he is; this is going to take long enough as it is anyway.

They cannot go against the organisation, whichever it is, in the open, not without alarming the public and the organisation itself, in the worst case forcing them to act earlier than they wanted to. And so, at least Shiva tells him, it'll be retcon for now, it'll be a covert operation, undercover and under the highest level of discretion, until they have an agent in every branch of the organisation they know of – Bors back home in England, Lamorac and Roxy in the US, Kay and Gawain in Russia, the others on hold for now, until there is more information available, until Harry has decided what to do.

It takes an hour and a half until there is crackling in his ear, then Elyan greets him. "'lo, Galahad."
He doesn't sound as happy and upbeat as he usually does, his voice flat somehow, and Eggsy understands it; he feels the same way. "Mornin'. Merlin off to brief the others?"
"Yeah. I asked if I could be your handler, at least for now. Thought you might appreciate hearing a familiar voice."
"I do, to be honest." It's Harry's voice he wants to hear, but he doesn't tell Elyan that, too afraid that the younger man would go and try to fetch their Arthur, when Harry surely has far too much to do. "So walk me through this, Elyan, tell me what to do."

Eggsy is thirty-one and he poses as the ambassador's assistant, frustrated, disillusioned, ready to see the world change and yet not knowing how to make it so. They have more than enough names, so Eggsy knows just who to talk to, who to convince that he is desperate to become part of something bigger, greater, and that he would be a valuable asset for them. And there is Elyan in his ear, Merlin on occasion, to help him out with the facts he should know but doesn't.
It works, but it's a painstakingly slow process, every step along the way overshadowed by the danger looming overhead, and Eggsy spends more nights awake, worrying, working, than he does asleep, to the point that even the calls back home feel like a chore sometimes.
More than once, he falls asleep with Harry still talking to him, only to find the phone pressed to his ear the next morning, drained of battery.

It's after a month that Harry informs him that they'll send him someone to help, the other's voice soft and tired when he tells him, and Eggsy's heart aches; he wishes he could reach out and at least take Harry's hand, feel the warmth of his skin against his palm.
"I hope we'll be able to bring you back home soon", Harry says, and Eggsy wonders if he's still at work, hopes he is at least on the way home.
"Me too", he answers, adds, "I miss ya. I miss London, I even miss my office. I mean, everyone here is lovely, Shiva even brought his daughter 'round yesterday, but it's just not the same."
"I didn't know he had a daughter", Harry replies, and Eggsy settles back, hopes that this time, he'll be able to stay awake for long enough to make this feel like a slice of home.
"He does. Called Anshi, she's the sweetest thing. Tries to imitate my accent, but God, she's bad at that. Reminds me a bit o' Daisy, to be honest, they've got almost the same laugh. Makes me miss her a bit more and a bit less, all at once."

Harry hums, clearly wants to say more, but there are noises in the background, excited, terrified, Eggsy can't tell. "I'm so sorry, my heart, I've got to go. Something seems to have happened to Bors, I'll talk to you as soon as I possibly can."
"Yeah, sure. Love ya."
"I love you too."

Eggsy is thirty-one, expects Ector to step off the plane that brought his back-up, maybe, but hopefully not, Tristan, but instead, blinking and in a rumpled flannel shirt, Elyan stumbles down the steps, followed by an older woman, who Eggsy has sometimes seen in the tech department, but never spoken to.
"Galahad!", the younger man exclaims as soon as he has set eyes on Eggsy, and it's nice to have someone truly excited for his presence for once. "Haven't seen you in ages. How you've been, man?"

"We've literally talked yesterday", Eggsy reminds him, but returns the half-hug Elyan pulls him into, then straightens to offer his hand to the other's companion. "Hi, nice to meet ya."
"Hello", the woman greets him, her voice smooth and deep, melodious. "Caradoc, but please, call me Suchandra, it's the name you'll use for the rest of the mission after all. Arthur sent me here to help you a little with the language and the more stubborn people around."
"Oh?", Eggsy's interest perks up, although he has had less than three hours of sleep last night. "Ya from around here?"
"I definitely am. The president is my uncle."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Suchandra turns out to be a blessing. While he is, by now, quite good with both Hindi and Bengali, she is fluent in both the languages, as well as three more, her name opens more doors than even Eggsy's new found connections ever could, she knows just the right level of arrogance to get them into pretty much everything. Not to mention that she looks great in the richly coloured saris she has ditched her suit for.

It helps Eggsy's task in more ways, even – now that it is known that he is well-acquainted with the President's niece, he is suddenly at least twice as interesting to the organisation they still haven't been able to put a name to.
All of it means more work, even less time to sleep, to speak to anyone back home, but it's more satisfying now when it feels like they are making progress.

Eggsy is thirty-one and everything seems to be going well until Lamorac and Roxy manage to fuck everything up. He doesn't know how, just knows that Merlin is screaming in his ear in the middle of the night, about how they have been compromised, that Roxy is missing and they have to do everything possible to stop what is happening.
He doesn't even have time to get dressed before Elyan is barging into the room, eyes frightened and hands trembling.
"Come on, there's a taxi outside, we need to get to HQ", Elyan tells him and Eggsy is proud to notice that while his expression is terrified, he sounds so much calmer, so much more composed.
"Of course." He throws on a shirt, pulls up his pants and takes his jacket with him, deciding to ignore the tie, even if it's one of those Harry gave him.

The ride in the cab is silent, Eggsy to worried about Roxy and Lamorac to make conversation; when they reach the Indian headquarters, everyone else is already there, panicking silently.
"What's the status?", Eggsy asks as soon as he has set eyes on Shiva, who's pale and visibly shaken. "What do you know?"
"Not much. Apparently the group in England has somehow found out about your colleagues involvement and sent out a warning. The plan has been brought forward, to be executed as quickly as possible."
"But we don't know the plan yet!" That's the whole problem that they still have, that Eggsy hasn't earned enough trust in the last nine and a half weeks to be considered important enough to be told what exactly the end game is; they have bits and pieces, but most of them are based on Eggsy's hunches, his instincts.

"I know, believe me, I know", Shiva responds darkly, but before he can continue, the head technician, Murugan interrupts them.
"Sir, there's been movements, a group of men and women, highly armed, just entered the Rashtrapati Bhavan, sorry Galahad, I mean, the Presidential complex, another, larger one the headquarters of the Indian Army. At least two of them are known members of the D-Company, another few have associated with the Punjabi Mafia before."
"Oh shit." As always, it seems, everything is so much worse than expected, and Eggsy doesn't quite know what to do, just closes his eyes for a moment and wishes he could ask Harry for advice, but there is no time, not even for a quick phone call. "Alright, let me see. Shiva, you and your men take the Army base, if there's more of 'em there, and I'll go and try to save the President, if he's what they want. Would be glad if you could borrow me one or two of your agents, though. I might be good, but I dunno if I'm that good."

"Of course, Galahad", Shiva nods, barks out a few commands in Hindi, which are too fast, too short for Eggsy to understand, then turns to him again, only that this time, his voice is softer, more quiet. "My flat is just next to the Army's headquarters. Do you think I should tell me wife to wake up the kids and leave?"
It's a question Eggsy doesn't know an answer to, one he has not expected, but the older man looks at him in a way that makes it impossible to tell him that. So Eggsy takes a moment to think, then says, "Nah, they should be fine. We're Kingsman, we'll handle this and no one will know. No one will get hurt."

Eggsy is thirty-one and when he comes to the Presidential quarters, it's already too late. He knows it before he even opens the door, as if he could feel the death radiating from the room; he still enters.
The President and his wife are still in their bed, his arm across her chest, as if he was trying to shield her with his boy, even if it was no use – someone put a bullet in his head and another one through his wives chest, her throat. There's blood everywhere, on the blankets and pillows and walls, and Eggsy has to swallow hard, steel himself, before he turns around and leaves.

"'s too late", he informs Shiva, or tries to. There is no answer.

Eggsy is thirty-one and people get hurt.
Hundreds, maybe even thousands, there is no way of knowing, not when the Army headquarters are just rubble and charred wood anymore, not when the countless explosions took several other houses with them.
It must have been a last resort, everyone agrees on that, but that doesn't make it better in any way, even if Eggsy takes a bit of solace in the fact that they foiled a nuclear detonation, if not a war. Shiva somehow made it out alive of the building before it exploded, together with two other agents, but Eggsy doubts he is happy about it.
One of the buildings the explosions destroyed held his family, peacefully asleep.

Eggsy knows what will happen before he even sets foot into the Indian HQ, can't even blame the head of this division for the punch he throws at him, doesn't try to stop him. A fist collides with Eggsy's jaw, splitting his bottom lip open, but Eggsy hardly feels the sting.
"You said they would be safe", Shiva hisses, and there are tears in his eyes and his voice, and Eggsy wishes he could cry, wishes he could curl up somewhere, just hide away.
"I know", he answers instead, because it's not his place to cry; he is the reason for this. "I'm sorry."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Elyan tells him that Suchandra was executed just like her uncle and aunt and Eggsy just feels numb.

Eggsy is thirty-one and Merlin says, "I'm so sorry, lad. We can't bring you home yet, the public authorities won't allow any air traffic whatsoever."
"What?" This time, Eggsy can almost, just almost hear his voice breaking, because he needs to get home, needs to be somewhere safe. Needs to curl up next to Harry, have the other man tell him it will be okay. "Can't I just- Merlin, not even a normal plane? Can't I just pretend I'm a tourist, nothing more?"
There is a sigh and Eggsy knows that he won't be home in a long, long time before Merlin has even said a word.

"I wish you could", Merlin finally answers, "But they think that you killed the president. They have you on tape, and one of those bastards must have set you up somehow. Give me a week, maybe two, and I'll get you and Elyan home. I promise."

Eggsy is thirty-one and Shiva refuses to give them the keys to any of the safe houses, so Eggsy has to pick the lock to the one Elyan found while hacking into the system in the middle of the night, hope that everyone at the Indian HQ is too busy with too many things to check in on the video feed of the safe houses.

It's stuffy inside, dust covering every single surface, but it hardly matters, because it's warm and dry and all Eggsy wants to do is to fall into a bed and sleep for centuries.

Eggsy turns thirty-two and it takes sixteen days until Merlin makes good on his promise. They don't speak much during those weeks, but it's still a relief that Elyan is there for Eggsy, and although he can only guess, he thinks that the younger man feels the same.
The first few days, Elyan hardly speaks, and Eggsy thinks it might be the first time that he's ever seen blood, seen death, but after that, he tells Eggsy bits and pieces from his life, his real name – Elliot – and that Kingsman recruited him straight out of a police station, just like Eggsy, only that he'd had hacked into some databank or other.

Eggsy mostly listens, glad for the distraction, hardly tells Elyan anything in return, but the other doesn't seem to mind much, just lets Eggsy brood, lets him sleep, until the nightmares wake him up again, then tells him some more.

Eggsy is thirty-two and it's only when he's back in dreary, grey, beloved England, that he finds out what happened to all the others.
They have been lucky, apparently, and Eggsy almost laughs when Merlin tells him that, then stops, because Lamorac is dead, Roxy severely wounded, and Bors lost a leg, rendering him unfit for duty immediately.
It's a catastrophe, not quite like V-Day was one, but still.

When Harry comes to see him, thirty minutes after Eggsy has arrived, he doesn't say a word, just wraps his arms around Eggsy's frame, pulls him close. And he wants to cry, desperately so, but no tears come, as if he's held them in for too long to let go now.
So instead, he just melts against Harry, burrows his face in the crook of the other's neck.

Eggsy is thirty-two and sleeps in his own bed for the first time in almost three months. He wakes up thrice during the night, a scream perched just under his chin, constricting his throat, ready to be released.
His tossing and turning, or maybe the sounds he still makes, wake Harry up as well, who, sleep-dazed and concerned, asks what is wrong, offers tea or cuddling or an early breakfast, all of which Eggsy declines.

Part of him wants to tell Harry, wants to confess that he hears Anshi scream, although he never saw her die, that he dreams of charred, tiny hands reaching for him, begging, asking him why he did what he did, but another, much larger part, cannot bear the thought.
Harry would have saved them, he knows it, and although the other has told him that it wasn't his fault, Harry just doesn't know. Doesn't know that it is, that he could at least have saved three of them. And how could Harry forgive him if he can't forgive himself?

So instead of searching comfort in the way he wanted to so desperately when he was gone, Eggsy gets up and ignores Harry's eyes boring into his back while he gets dressed quickly. He leaves while the sky his still dark and the sun hidden behind the horizon, doesn't come back for hours.

Eggsy is thirty-two and lets the doctor, whose name he has already forgotten again, prod and poke his body, check his eyes and ears and mouth. It seems ridiculous, somehow, to check for injuries to his flesh when what is hurting is Eggsy's mind, his heart.
He still lets them and tries to stifle the hollow, joyless laugh trying to make it past his lips.

Eggsy is thirty-two and visits Roxy, who is still lying in her hospital bed, not allowed to move. She's been stabbed, the knife nicking one of her kidneys, has been beaten and kicked and left for dead and Eggsy takes her hand, presses it to his lips for a few, long seconds.
All this time, he has never thought about how it would be to lose her, hasn't even considered the possibility. She had always been so strong, his indestructible best friend, and yet here Roxy is, looking sickly pale, bruises still marring her pretty face.
Fleetingly, Eggsy wonders what they told her Harry.

Then there is the lightest flutter of fingertips against the back of his hand, and Roxy mutters, "Eggsy?"
Her voice is so soft he can hardly hear it, and that is enough to make him ache all over, the guilt he carries around with him always multiplying, as if he could somehow have prevented this, could have taken the beating for her. He would have, he knows it.
"Yeah, Rox. I'm here, don't worry. I'm here."

Eggsy is thirty-two and doesn't know how many hours have passed when Harry comes to find him. The older man places a hand on his shoulder and Eggsy flinches; even if it's only for a second, it's enough for Harry to notice, retract his hand.
Eggsy isn't sure if he misses the touch or if he is glad to be rid of it.

"You should come home with me, Eggsy", Harry says, and his voice is soft, tender, hurts and heals at the same time. "Let her sleep, come back tomorrow."
He gets no answer, just a shake of Eggsy's head.

Eggsy is thirty-two and comes back that night, drunk and smelling of cigarettes, of Elliot's aftershave.

Eggsy is thirty-two and Merlin is fifty-six, comes to his office when Eggsy least expects it, isn't even pretending to be working, but just stares into the distance, trying not to think.
"Good morning, Eggsy", the other man greets and Eggsy nods, suddenly too exhausted to speak. "I've been meaning to talk to you. About what happened. We don't know everything, not the way you do, but all of us have been in a similar situation before- Albert, myself, even Harry – so we might be able to help. If you let us."

He is still standing, looking both concerned and as if he expected this to change anything at all – it doesn't, and although it hasn't been long yet since he got back, Eggsy already thinks that maybe nothing ever will.
But that isn't the answer Merlin wants, won't be the one that'll make him go away, so Eggsy forces himself to smile, even if that smile tugs at his lips as if he was carving it into his flesh with a blunt razor. "Sure, Merlin. Thanks."

If it's convincing, Eggsy cannot tell, but it does the trick; Merlin sighs, nods, and leaves.

Eggsy is thirty-two and Harry talks him into seeing the psychiatrist Kingsman has hired, and after three or four sessions, Eggsy is glad for it, mostly. Doctor Carlisle helps, even if Eggsy never tells her the complete truth, not all of it, just enough. There is doctor-patient confidentiality, yes, but the thought of just one more person knowing about Anshi and her sister, her mother, makes him feel sick.

Eggsy is thirty-two and Harry home with take-out and a smile on his lips; Eggsy' stomach turns at the thought of eating.
"I thought we could just have a lazy night together", Harry explains while he unwraps the containers, fluffy naan bread and three different kinds of curry, the samosas Eggsy has always been so fond of. "Like we used to. Have dinner, maybe watch some TV…. Talk if you feel up for it. I know it's been hard for you, the mission, those two weeks in India, and maybe I wasn't- maybe I didn't do what you would have needed me to, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about it. About anything."

He sounds so sincere that Eggsy almost forgets. The words are on his tongue, ready to be spoken out-loud – I killed her, Harry, it was my fault, she could be alive if not for me – but he stops himself just in time.
This could hurt Harry, will hurt him, but Eggsy would rather have the other in pain than watching those brown eyes turn cold with disgust.
"No, thanks", he mutters instead, and he was right, the words hurt and Eggsy is so, so sorry. "I'm not hungry."

Eggsy is thirty-two and Elliot picks him up after another entirely useless day at work, filled with an appointment with Doctor Carlisle that left him feeling empty, a stilted, awkward lunch with Harry that left him feeling even worse.
It's become a regular thing by now; while he used to spend most of his free time at home before, at Roxy's or his mum's house, there's at least two nights a week, usually more, which he spends with Elliot, either at a pub or the other's flat. Eggsy has always liked him, but now it's more than that still; Elliot doesn't ask.
He doesn't have to, because he was there, right beside him, and that alone is more of a relief than Eggsy would ever thought possible. It doesn't make Anshi stop screaming, but it quiets her down a bit.

"'Sup?", Elliot asks like always, holds the door open for Eggsy to pass through; out of the corner of his eye, Eggsy can see Harry stepping outside one of the meeting room, stopping dead in his tracks. He ignores it.
"Nothing, really", he answers instead, walks out into the crisp night air. "Same boring stuff. Your place again?"
"Sure. I've stocked up on that gin you like so much, just in case you feel like making martinis again." Elliot smiles, a soft, tentative thing that looks good on his face anyway; Eggsy doesn't smile back, but doesn't flinch when the younger man puts an arm around his shoulder.

When they turn to walk, Eggsy sees that Harry is still watching.

Eggsy is thirty-two and everything has changed. It's the small things, mostly – he still can't sleep, can't speak the way he used to without hearing Anshi's imitation of it, can't bear Harry's touch for long before feeling like he is soiling the other somehow –and yet they still seem to hurt the most.
Back in India, he thought that once he'd come home, everything would go back to normal, that he'd be able to forget, somehow find his place in this life again, but now that he is, it seems he has lost his way.

Harry tries his best to make him feel better, make him talk, but even he stops after a myriad of failed attempts, looking confused and angry and sometimes, when he thinks Eggsy isn't watching, utterly ruined.
But even that changes, even if it's subtle, so subtle that it takes Eggsy months to notice, but seems even more intense once he does.
Harry talks less, drinks more, has mood swings which sometimes leave him all soft and sad and mellow, sometimes so tense it seems to only take one wrong word to make him blow up, sometimes as affectionate as he always used to be. They fight more than they ever did before, and every time they go to bed without having kissed one last time, Eggsy feels hollow inside, like he was missing something more than just a press of lips, than just Harry's arms around him.
It feels like they are losing each other and Eggsy doesn't know what to do to stop it.

Eggsy is thirty-two and Harry is fifty-eight, has turned a year older sometime along the way. He looks tired, but his eyes soften when Eggsy all but stumbles into the living room – he has had more than enough beer at HQ with Elliot, but it doesn't seem to be enough yet so there is a cab parked outside that will take them to the closest pub.
"I didn't expect you home so soon", he starts, and sounds so hopeful, so earnest it makes Eggsy's chest ache, not only his heart but all of it. It's another thing he puts on the list of things he wants to forget about tonight. "Do you want me to fix you some supper, or maybe we could-"
"Sorry", Eggsy interrupts before he can say anything more, before Harry can make him change his mind. "Gotta go, Elliot's waiting outside. Just wanted to tell you that I won't be coming home tonight. Don't wait up."

Eggsy is thirty-two, comes home in the early morning, feeling worse than even the night before. It's been a little more than five months since Anshi died, and there is a black pit where his stomach used to be, weighing him down.
He somehow makes it up the stairs, cursing how steep they are under his breath. One of these days, he's going to kill himself falling down.

Harry wakes up when he opens the door to their bedroom – Eggsy can sense it, the way his body tenses under the sheets, the slight hitch in his breath – and all of a sudden, Eggsy can't bear the thought of going inside, slipping under the sheets next to him.
It would mean at least a small amount of comfort, of solace and he doesn't deserve that, more so even, Harry doesn't deserve that. Harry deserves better, Harry deserves the person he used to be and maybe, the person he will be again someday, at some point.

So instead, he closes the door again, turns around and, not for the first time, slips into the guestroom instead and hopes that the burning in his chest will let him sleep.

Eggsy is thirty-two and there are two suitcases waiting in the hallway when he comes back home from yet another day at HQ, another session with his psychiatrist, another hour spent with Elliot in a pub without talking, just drinking.
He finds Harry in the kitchen, a cup of steaming tea clasped between his hands and his face unreadable, a riddle Eggsy should be able to solve, but isn't.
"D'you have a meeting somewhere? Or why did you pack?", Eggsy asks, walks around the table to get himself a glass of water, his fingers just brushing Harry's shoulder, not feeling when the other tenses.

"No", Harry tells him, and Eggsy can hear in his voice that something is wrong, even before he continues; it's too calm, too emotionless, like Harry is trying his best not to let it waver, let it break. "I'm not going anywhere. You're moving out."