Eggsy gets home, and the first thing he can hear is the baby crying.
He walks over to the crib, and Daisy is lying there, eyes and cheeks red, nose leaking snot, screaming her lungs out and clenching her tiny fists.
He picks her up and shushes her.
"Shhhh Daisy-baby, it's okay, your big bruv's got ya."
And then he sees a fast movement coming from the corner of his eye towards his face.
Instinctively, he curls in to protect Daisy, which means the slap grazes the back of his head rather than getting him in the face.
"The fuck is wrong with you!" Eggsy swears, turning to see Dean glaring death at him. "You could have hit 'er!"
Daisy is screaming louder.
"Put 'er the fuck down then," Dean snarls, unrepentant as far as Eggsy can see, but still with enough restraint to want to avoid hitting his baby daughter.
(For now, Eggsy adds to himself, sotto voce even in his own head. He doesn't trust that to last. There was a time, he knows, that his Mum thought she could protect him from Dean, that he would never hit a child. She was wrong.)
Eggsy complies with Dean's demand, gently placing the wailing Daisy back in the crib. He's not about to use his baby sister as a shield. He wishes he could comfort her, but that would involve delaying, and he doesn't trust Dean to hold his temper if it's a choice between hitting a "stalling" Eggsy and avoiding hitting his daughter.
(Eggsy hates Dean so much sometimes that he can barely breathe.)
The second Daisy is out of Eggsy's hands, Eggsy takes a step back, and then Dean practically tackles him into the door.
"So," says Dean in a faux-conversational tone that is not in the same city as friendly, "you want to tell me what the fuck you were thinkin' when you stole Rottweiler's car?"
Eggsy shrugs as best he can whilst pinned against the door with a hand fisted in his shirt.
Dean slaps him across the face, hard enough that Eggsy nearly hits the other side of his face on the door.
"Wasn't," he admits, hoping (doubting) the concession will work.
"Wasn't what?" Dean demands.
"Wasn't thinking," Eggsy elaborates. The door-handle is digging into his back, but he doesn't bother to try and move. Last time he struggled, Dean not only cracked a rib on him, he blacked Eggsy's Mum's eyes when she was begging him to stop.
Dean didn't like to be told "no" or "stop", and things that Dean didn't like tended to be met with physical violence.
(Eggsy's dearest wish used to be that one day Dean would go too far, and his Mum would snap and take him and Daisy away from it all. But Eggsy, older and wiser Eggsy, who had read the domestic violence statistics in the papers, the statistics of spousal homicide… Eggsy knew that chances were, if Dean did go too far for his Mum, it would be too fucking late anyway. He'd stopped trying to tell her to leave him a long time ago. The look she got in her eyes- hopeless, guilty, despairing, resentful… He didn't understand it, but he did understand that no matter what he said, she wasn't going to leave the bastard, even (especially) since she'd had Daisy. He stuck around because the one time he had left to join the Marines, he'd come back to find his Mum pregnant and with two broken arms. And apparently worrying about his life. Eggsy didn't understand her, and times like that, he really didn't want to.)
Dean leans forward, and Eggsy can smell the stale beer and salt and vinegar chips on his breath.
"You're damn fuckin' right you weren't thinking," Dean growls, "Not that thinkin' has ever been one of your strong points." Eggsy doesn't bother to defend himself. There is no right answer. There is never a right answer. "Now, Rottweiler, he says that you stealing that car is disrespectin' me. I'm disinclined to agree, but on the other 'and, I 'as to look after me own." (Eggsy was somewhat relieved that Dean didn't consider him to be one of "his own", but on the other hand, now was really not a time where the benefits of that were exactly being highlighted.) "And when the free-loading dole-bludger poor excuse for a step-son Michelle landed me with wrecks the shit of one of me own, then well, that looks bad, now, don't it. Did you think you were going to get off scot free?"
No. It was just that for a moment there, Eggsy hadn't cared.
He stays silent for now, but the room is still filled with Daisy's crying.
(Poor mite. She doesn't deserve to be ignored like this, but Eggsy is a little tied up just now.)
Unfortunately, a sudden light flickers in Dean's eyes as he comes to a realisation.
Eggsy braces himself.
(He knew this was coming. That doesn't make it any easier.)
"Come to think of it, why the fuck aren't you in the bin right now? Little Jerry saw you get nicked."
Eggsy shrugs, eyes looking over Dean's shoulder at the dent on the opposite wall from where he threw Eggsy a couple of weeks back. (He wonders if it will get deeper today, or if there will be a matching one added to the décor.) "Dunno. They just let me off with a warning," Eggsy lies easily, smoothly.
He doesn't ask himself why he doesn't tell Dean about Roe, because as far as he can see, Roe did him a solid. (Eggsy doesn't count the debt of his father's death against Roe, because he's well aware that one good turn does not have to lead to another.) And something Eggsy has learned, is that if he wants the good things in his life to stay good, he keeps them out of Dean's knowledge.
(Also, he has no particular desire to put Roe in the line of fire for some kind of half-witted extortion scheme. It's not that he got the vibe that Roe couldn't take care of himself, it's more why make him have to deal with shit in return for helping a mate out? Doesn't seem like a winning strategy for encouraging repeats of such behaviour in future, Eggsy reckons.)
"You expect me to believe that?" Dean asks him, incredulous.
"Yup," Eggsy responds. (What else is he supposed to say? It's even true.)
Dean stares at him.
Eggsy stares coolly back.
(In the background, Daisy is still crying.)
Dean takes exception, and punches Eggsy in the gut. Then he does it again, only Eggsy flinches, so he gets him in the ribs instead. Eggsy slides down the door, instinctively curling up to protect himself, but Dean just starts kicking him instead.
Worried that Dean is going to break his ribs, Eggsy shouts. "I don't fucking know, alright? Go ahead, beat the shit out of me! Nothing you ain't done before!"
"And I'll do it again, you worthless piece of shit! Now 'fess up! Who the fuck did you grass on!"
Oh, Eggsy thought a little distantly as he was slapped again. He should have realised.
"I never grassed on nobody!" Eggsy insists. Truthfully, as it happens, but that didn't matter. He had been tried and judged in the Court of Dean, and by experience he knew that at this point there was literally nothing he could say that would make this better. He just has to wait. Dean always gets tired of using him as a punching bag eventually.
"You think I'm stupid, don't you, Muggsy." Dean punches him again. "You think you can get horseshit like that past me?" Kicks him in the shin with his steel-capped boots. "Think again. Now let's try this again." He pulls Eggsy up by the collar, so that he's practically standing on tiptoe against the door, even as he's trying to double over. "Why'd they let you fucking go? Who'd you grass on to save your sorry arse?"
"I didn't grass on nobody!" Eggsy wheezes, air knocked entirely out of him by the blows. "I swear to god!"
"Oh yeah?" Dean asks him. "Then what the fuck are you doin' here rather than locked up?"
"I dunno, maybe they thought I was too pretty to lock up," (He knows he's going to regret the weak attempt at a witticism, but sometimes he can't help his stupid smart mouth.)
Dean snarls. Hits him again. Asks him again.
There's a sudden knock at the door behind Eggsy's back.
The tableau freezes. Even Daisy quietens down for a moment.
"Who the fuck is it?" Dean demands. (He knows it's not Michelle, because she a) wouldn't knock, and b) should be at the hairdressers for another two hours. Fucked if he knows why getting her hair done takes so long.)
Eggsy eels out of his loosened grip, and practically rolls across the floor to get away from Dean. He picks Daisy up out of her crib, and bounces her lightly until she calms down to hiccuping sobs rather than wails. She buries her face against his neck and clings. It breaks Eggsy's heart as usual, but since it's usual it's nothing he's not used to.
It's amazing what one can get used to.
"I have a delivery for a Mr. Dean Baker," comes a voice that sounds suspiciously familiar, though the faint Scottish accent Eggsy had heard before has broadened significantly.
Dean doesn't open the door.
(Credit where credit's due, Dean is as cunning as a shithouse rat. There's a reason why he's never been nicked despite having not so much dirty hands as shit caked up past his elbows.)
"Oh yeah? I didn't order nothing. You got the wrong fucking place."
"I highly doubt that," comes the response through the door. "Mr. Dean Anthony Baker, yes? Born in Leeds, educated at St. Joseph's, before you found your way to London. Husband to Mrs Michelle Baker nee Unwin nee Grant. Father of one Daisy Baker and stepfather of one Gary "Eggsy" Unwin. Reportedly earned £9, 452 last year before taxes, but I think we both know that your little illegal business enterprise selling pills to schoolchildren keeps you in far better financial standing than that."
Eggsy resisted the urge to whistle lowly. He didn't know how the fuck Roe had figured any of that shit out, but it was almost worth the price of admission to see the colours Dean was turning.
Daisy whimpered, and he held her closer, ready to move if he had to. He didn't want to bet one way or the other how Dean would react, but he suspected that it would be a reaction he might want to get the hell out of the way for.
Dean picked up a knife from the counter.
Eggsy practically dove through the nearest doorway and yelled "He's got a knife!" slamming the door behind him and sitting against it, Daisy still wrapped in his arms.
He'll catch hell for that later, he knows, but he'll be damned if he lets Dean stab someone if he's in a position to warn them, no matter who it is.
"You motherf-" Dean's infuriated bellow suddenly cuts off, and there's the thud of a body hitting the ground.
The door creaks open (Eggsy is sure it was locked before) and there's a muffled swearword.
Eggsy doesn't dare breathe.
He hears soft footsteps across the carpet, until he can hear someone on the other side of the door.
"Eggsy."
Eggsy lets out a gasping breath in relief.
It's not Dean.
"Who's there?" he demands. (He's pretty sure he knows, but it pays to be cautious.)
"Come now Eggsy," (that's all the confirmation Eggsy needs, and he slowly stands, still cradling Daisy in his arms) "I know we only met today, but honestly, I only dropped you off five minutes ago and-"
Eggsy opens the door, and Roe stops talking.
He looks him up and down, taking in the rising bruises on Eggsy's face, the way that Eggsy is standing a little gingerly, with the tear and snot-streaked visage of his baby sister rubbing off onto his shirt.
"So I have good news and bad news," Roe says, with a glint in his eyes that Eggsy takes to mean that this is not what his first impulse is to say.
Eggsy gulps.
"What's the bad news?" he asks. (Better to get the worst over with.)
"Blood is extremely difficult to get out of carpet," Roe replies.
Eggsy feels his eyebrows raise into his hairline. That was sort of left field- HOLY FUCKING SHIT!
Eggsy sees Dean lying in a puddle of blood, and makes an abortive move to check on him, but pauses, rather than get any closer to the man who almost definitely just killed his stepfather.
"Fucking hell," he breathes, holding Daisy closer.
Roe shakes his head. "I didn't kill him."
Eggsy looks pointedly at the body lying face-down not two metres from them.
And then startles as it groans.
"He managed to stab himself when he fell down. Clumsy of him," Roe says, in a mild tone as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
Eggsy isn't sure if he's impressed or terrified.
"The fuck did you manage that?" he wonders aloud. "I heard him fall before the door opened."
Roe smiles, as though Eggsy has accomplished something.
"Good observation skills," he praises. "I electrocuted him."
Eggsy blinks, opens his mouth, closes it again, and considers.
"You got him through the doorhandle, didn't you," he states rhetorically. He looks Roe up and down, from shiny shoes to drab expensive clothes to shiny scalp. He hadn't missed the part where Roe looked as though he worked out on a pretty regular basis.
"What the fuck kind of line of work you in that you carry around a taser?" he asks him.
Roe's smile morphs into a smug smirk that wouldn't look foreign on Lucifer's lips.
(Eggsy shivers lightly.)
"And that brings us to the good news. I wish to offer you a job."
Eggsy looks at him disbelievingly.
"A job doing what exactly?" he demands, absent-mindedly rocking Daisy slightly when she makes a small noise.
"Driving, for a start. The rest will depend on what skills you have, and how good you are at picking up new ones. The job comes with accommodation, and," Roe pauses, and then says in a softer voice that makes the hairs on the back of Eggsy's neck stand up, "whether you accept it or not, I will make sure that this fucker never darkens the doorstep of your sister or mother ever again. I owe your father at least that much," he adds, almost to himself.
Eggsy shakes his head incredulously.
"Who the fuck are you?" he wonders.
Roe hands him a business card.
Eggsy juggles Daisy slightly so that he can reach out with one hand. He notes that the symbol on the back matches the medallion he's worn around his neck since he was a kid, and that it's made of expensive paper, the kind he's only ever seen in fancy stationery shops.
He reads the address in Saville Row, and scoffs.
"I've never met a tailor before, but I know you ain't one."
Roe seems unperturbed. "If you decide to take the position, present yourself at this tailor's. Ask for Merlin, and tell them you've come to learn a trade. Now," Roe continues, before Eggsy could ask questions, "I suggest you take, Daisy was it, somewhere else for an hour. Your step-father and I need to have a little chat about why he is going to take his unworthy carcass to the nearest police station and confess everything, and I have no desire to traumatise the poor child further."
Eggsy considers his options, looks at Dean's prone form, looks at the very scary man who just offered him more than he ever would have dared to ask for, and then looks down at Daisy, (scared, vulnerable, tiny and too young to really understand Daisy, who up until now he's only barely been able to protect,) and makes a decision that he very much doubts he'll ever regret.
"Right then," he says with a firm nod to Roe. "If you'll excuse us, I do believe we 'ave somewhere that ain't 'ere to be."
Eggsy picks up his keys and wallet from where they'd fallen to the floor from his pockets, then steps over Dean's prone (but for now still breathing) body.
Hugging Daisy close to him, he walks out the door.
He doesn't look back.