Hello my lovelies! Sorry it's been a while.

To be honest, my insecurities about this story and my writing have been keeping me from updating. But I wrote this for me in the first place, so I'm going to keep going.

Thank you for reading, and a double thank you to everyone who has left a review! You're the best.

Little Talks

The sound of a kid's laughter had her looking up and then smiling as she watched a woman chase her son, still looking slightly unsteady on his legs as he led his mother on a chase.

She smiled to herself as she wiggled her toes, her feet burying further into the wet sand – it past her ankles by now. She lifted her feet and turned back, walking in the dry sand and sitting down, burying her feet yet again and sighing at the soothing feeling.

Her eyes strayed back to the mother and son who were now in a splashing match, the slowly setting sun casting an orange and pink light on such a beautiful moment.

Over the sound of the waves she didn't hear him coming, but he dropped his shoes onto the sand first before he sat down next to her, assuming her position and bending his legs, making sure to knock his knee against hers in a silent greeting.

"Galahad is Eggsy," she started after a moment of silence of them enjoying the sunset.

Dylan stayed silent and she watched in her peripheral vision as he tensed.

"Shit."

"Small world, right?"

"Miniscule. That's… are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Heard Lancel- sorry, Roxy, call him that. After you ditched me - by the way."

He shrugged.

"I know when you're about to go off… didn't want to be there. And why are you guys fighting over names?" he asked, genuinely confused.

She threw her hands in the air.

"Hell if I know! I told him people call me Ana, and he seemed upset about it; kept calling me Lincoln, as though rejecting that I had answered his fucking question – under duress, mind you – about what my name was."

Dylan let out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Christ, you two are a lot to handle," he muttered.

She looked away, not answering that.

"What are you gonna do?" Dylan asked, smart enough to change the subject back to the reason for why she'd called him in the first place to meet at their spot.

She shook her head.

"I gotta tell him," she muttered.

"You sound so honored to be the one," Dylan said sarcastically.

She turned to look at him, ticking an eyebrow.

He only stared at her.

"What's your beef with him?"

She sighed and then looked back at the waves, watching the water for a while as she thought about what to say.

"He…" she took a deep breath and quickly said the rest, "he got the one up on me when we first met. He brought a knife to a gun fight, and still got the upper hand. If it wasn't for my own-"

"It's not yours," Dylan interjected.

She clenched her fists at that. The butterfly knife she carried wasn't hers - it was the one Jeremy used to kill her sister. But she carried it... and used it - to exact the physical pain on others that she felt herself. She took a deep breath before she continued.

"If it wasn't for my own knife, or for the civilians around us… I would've lost. God knows what would've happened."

"You respect him. Just as much as he respects you."

"You weren't there after you bailed… the shit he said-"

"Respect. I can spell it out for you, Diana Ross style if you'd like."

She rolled her eyes and let out a soft laugh.

"Fine. Fine… but even so… I also want to punch him. How can you respect someone that you want to cause bodily harm?"

Dylan shrugged.

"Figure that's what leaders think of their enemies, right? Game of Thrones, Breaking Bad, etc."

She shook her head, grinning. Dylan was never too quick to reference those bigger than life shows towards their real lives.

"Doesn't negate the fact that Eggsy is who he is…" she winced, shaking her head again, muttering out a "fuck".

"But seriously. It's like your sexual tension could ignite a room if someone struck a match, but-"

"What?!" she yelled incredulously.

He laughed.

"Oh please, denying it is just so cliché."

She stared him down, frowning, and he stared back, unwavering.

"Fine!" she caved in, muttering "so he's very attractive."

"Sorry, what was that?" he asked teasingly, and she glared him down, "So? I saw the way you looked at me before I introduced myself the first time we met, but look how we turned out," Dylan said in confidence, and rightfully so.

She gave him a wuick look before turning to watch the waves again. Dylan was gorgeous. In fact, looking at the agents from the UK, as well as her own colleagues, including Dylan… they were all gorgeous.

"Jesus, it's like we've been cast for a CW Network show, except for the odd black sheep," she muttered, reaching forward to slap her thigh, feeling her skin jiggle.

She heard a soft growl from Dylan, and she turned and gave him a challenging look.

She was the only one who could joke or talk about her weight. It was her body, she could do what she wanted with it, including self degradation to cover her own twisted insecurities.

Dylan hated it, though. He misunderstood, that after hours and days and months of working out, dieting, even once in High School going as far as to starve herself; that her body would never change, no matter how healthy the doctors said she was – and how 'unhealthy' she was to the strangers without PhD's that felt the need to give her their own diagnosis that being above a size 8 was 'unhealthy'.

"Oh come on, loosen up," she muttered. By now she'd thought he would've warmed up to her jokes on her own body weight, but it didn't seem that way – despite the years.

"Black sheep my ass. I'm gonna start a 'Self-Insult' jar: a dollar per deprecating comment. Soon you'll start paying for steak dinners on my vacation in the Caribbean."

"A quarter," she bartered, but Dylan ignored her.

"Not only are you the first female agent, but you're one of the best agents we've recruited in years: you managed to infiltrate an asset that the agency didn't even know what to do with – alone and on a rogue mission, and you took two of their best down. Even last week during weapons training you swept the floor with Hoover and Jefferson."

She stayed silent.

She couldn't help it. But growing up she realized making fun of herself meant that anybody who wanted to hurt her didn't have the right ammo. And as Dylan rightfully said - even if gratuitous - she proved herself in every other way possible.

"Fine, fine," Dylan said, shaking his head as he gave up, "So why the beef? You're always so on edge with him. Why?"

"He wants to get a rise out me, which is my thing. He took too much enjoyment playing a couple, and he didn't waver whenever I challenged him..." she faded off, glancing at Dylan who only stared at her, waiting for the real answer.

She sighed, looking back out at the waves.

"He reminds me of… me, before V-Day," she finished softly.

He could still joke about the simple things. He was just as good an agent. He didn't hide his true self under sarcasm…

"Hey," Dylan said, grabbing her shoulder to make her look at him, "you're still that same girl. Just…"

"Bitchier? Meaner? So weak that I have to use tranquilizers and stun bullets?"

He frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as his hand dropped.

"Christ, you're too stubborn for your own good. What did Natalia tell you?"

She froze at the name, her whole body tensing. He was lucky; if anyone else had said that name to her, she would've clocked them.

But the thing was, Dylan was the only agent who had actually met her twin sister. It was a nice dinner; her, Natalia, Dylan, and his fiancé Claire (who was also lost during V-Day). They all had dinner, under the guise that Ana and Dylan were part of a private investigative and security firm that restricted them from talking about their jobs.

"What did she tell you?" he asked again, searching her eyes.

"To not blame myself," she whispered, remembering that moment as she stared down at the other half of her soul, it slowly pitter-patting away and dying…

She winced and closed her eyes tight for a moment before opening them again and looking at the waves.

He let out a sigh, and wiped a tear from her cheek that she hadn't realized was there.

"You gotta keep reminding yourself of that, kiddo."

You look like an idiot.

He sighed and shook his head as he paced in front of her door, stopping for a moment, and then walking away.

He couldn't help it. Ever since Ana had learned his name – nickname – she'd been avoiding him. Just earlier that day they were at opposite sides of the hall and Ana had turned on her heel and walked back towards where she had come from.

So now here he was, like an idiot, pacing near her door.

So yeah, his name was Eggsy, but that name alone shouldn't have brought such a reaction from her. She looked… terrified. She ran out of the room like a bat out of hell, and he needed to know why.

He paced another round towards her door, turning around and walking the other way, but stopped short when he looked up and saw Dylan – Roosevelt – at the other end of the hall.

Dylan quickly walked towards him.

"What are you doing?" he whispered.

Eggsy raised an eyebrow.

"Why are ya whispering?" he whispered back.

"Because she'll probably hear, idiot. What are you doing?"

Eggsy shrugged, looking over his shoulder at the door of Ana's room. He felt a jab in his chest and turned back to Dylan, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't make me ask again," Dylan still whispered.

Eggsy shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"I wanna know why she's avoidin' me. Thought I'd walk her to the kitchen for dinner-"

"She texted she's staying in. She's got a cough, doesn't want to infect the rest of us," Dylan said, his voice above a whisper as he grabbed Eggsy's arm and walked them both away from her door.

"But-"

"Give her time," Dylan said as he shoved him into the elevator, pressing the button that would take them down to the kitchen.

Usually there was a staff on hand, but not for all days of the week. And since the UK Branch joined, Washington had shortened their hours (but of course gave them full pay) for hope that the agents cooking and eating together would form a stronger bond for the mission.

Though it was Eggsy and Ana on the mission – and Ana was locked up in her room.

Eggsy waited to talk until they were in the elevator.

"You know how she works, why-"

"If you know that I know how she works, what in your right mind thinks I'll just tell you everything?"

Eggsy grinned at that. Dylan reminded him of Roxy.

"Nevermind, bruv."

Dylan gave a short laugh.

"Gotta love that British slang," he said as the doors opened.

Dylan walked ahead and Eggsy followed, already knowing where the kitchen was – he and Roxy'd had a few midnight snacks their first week there, still fighting off jet lag.

They both walked in and Eggsy stopped, looking around the room as Dylan kept walking and stood next to Kennedy at the stove, who was surprisingly stirring a wooden spoon in a pot.

Neither he nor Roxy could get a read on Kennedy. He barely spoke, but his eyes said everything. They knew that he didn't see the collaboration as a problem, but Eggsy swore he saw – or felt – Kennedy give him a dirty look or two. And then that had them thinking if he had a relationship with Ana (Lincoln). But it was Roxy, also a solo female agent, that shot the theory down: "Even though you all know I can hold my own… you still feel the need to protect me. It's probably the same thing."

A surprising presence was Hoover, sitting in the corner of the island, a beer bottle in hand, sitting next to another agent, Jefferson, who smiled and nodded at the newcomers.

Eggsy walked towards the other side of the island, sitting next to Percival and in front of Roxy, who was mixing a large bowl of salad. She gave him a soft smile and added more dressing.

"Well now that I'm here," Dylan said, budging Kennedy and smiling, "We can actually start talking."

Kennedy gave a grunt, and put the wooden spoon down, picking up the pot and turning to the sink to drain the pasta he was cooking. Kennedy motioned his head towards the oven and Dylan grabbed oven mitts and brought out a pan of sizzling chicken.

"What I wanna know is why the 'woman of the hour' isn't here," Hoover muttered loud enough for the room to hear, his emphasis on those four words undiscernible.

Eggsy watched both Dylan and Kennedy let out a sigh – and he also noticed their hands clenching into fists. Kennedy moved Dylan out of the way as he stabbed the pieces of chicken with a sharp knife, moving them to a cutting board.

"This wasn't mandatory," Roxy started, always the one to try and dissuade an imminent argument, "this is simply for us to-"

"She ain't here like you, babe," Hoover started, and everyone bristled, Eggsy included, "that's saying something."

Dylan intervened.

"She's not feeling well. Traveling is the biggest factor for the common cold."

"He's here," Hoover said, pointing his beer bottle towards Eggsy, who simply ignored him, "and he's fine."

"Hoover," Jefferson muttered in a voice that mothers used to tame their toddlers from starting a tantrum.

"Nah, nah, I want to know why she's allowed to cower in her room while the rest of us have to be here," Hoover said.

"Hoover," both Dylan and Kennedy snapped at the same time, Kennedy cutting a piece of chicken with such force that the sound of knife on the cutting board echoed in the room.

"What?" Hoover said, holding his hands up, one still holding the beer bottle, in surrender.

"I juss wanta want to know while the holier than thou bitch is not with us. I mean, it's because of her that the lot of you are here."

There was a long beat of silence, everyone on edge by the comment.

Dylan took a deep breath, and looked towards Roxy, Eggsy, and Percival.

"Unfortunately I need to take the time and say that he does not hold the same views of the rest of us. You are more than welcome," Dylan said piercingly, leveling Hoover with a gaze as Kennedy continued to cut the chicken.

Hoover, obviously drunk, gave a snort.

"Oh come on, she's the reason we're going through this bullshit. Low level cheating bitch – can't even use a real gun after the loss of her-"

Hoover's rant was cut off by a yell - his own.

It took everyone a second to realize why: there was a knife pinning Hoover's sleeve to the wooden counter of the island – but with a second glance the knife was held in place by a small cut of skin on Hoovers arm, a pool of blood slowly forming on the counter.

There was another second as all heads turned towards Kennedy, standing in front of a cutting board full of cut chicken, the knife in his hand gone.

Eggsy couldn't help but smile as Jefferson let out a "Holy Shit!" and Hoover started yelling and cursing.

Eggsy turned to watch as Dylan took a step in front of Kennedy – the both of them still as stone and with deadly intentions in their gaze as they watched Hoover cry and yell.

Jefferson grabbed a towel and put it on his friend's wound before dragging his friend out, Hoover's curses and yells echoing in the hall and then finally falling faint.

There was a collective deep breath as the room fell silent.

"I was going for the bottle…" Kennedy muttered as he reached across the island and grabbed the knife, tossing it behind him into the sink and almost magically appearing with another as he finished cutting the chicken.

"Galahad, with me. Roxy and Dylan, start plating," he continued.

They all stood or sat still, staring at him.

He looked back up and only had to raise an eyebrow to get them moving. Dylan walked towards some further cupboards to bring out plates and bowls – Roxy helping. Eggsy walked around the counter and stood next to Kennedy as asked, leaving at least a foot between them.

"My name's Eggsy, by the way."

"Yeah, I'm not calling you that," Kennedy grunted.

"'Kay…" Eggsy faltered, "Galahad it is, then?" he asked, before grabbing a fork and reaching forward – but Kennedy caught his wrist and held so tight that Eggsy fought to not wince.

"Not particular to anyone who gives Ana a chance to skip an outing like this."

Eggsy only blinked.

"Girl like her, dinner like this, she'd've planned far ahead. But it's you that's got her locked up in her cage."

Eggsy only stared back. Kennedy leveled him with a fierce gaze before slowly letting go of his wrist and walking towards the dining table nook in the corner of the room.

Eggsy gave a defeated sigh.

"I only gave her my fucking name," he muttered to himself.

Little Talks by Of Monsters and men