Work Text:
At age 5, he finds his da.
Hamish Campbell is sitting at the kitchen table that belongs to what his Ma said was an old friend. Ma told him they were visiting someone, and she even packed a few bags of clothes. Were they sleeping over here? Who even was this man? Ma never mentioned him before. And it was such a long way to get here, he didn’t even think he’d want to drive back home so soon.
But she was also acting real strange in the car. She was quiet and not singing songs with him like usual. A bad feeling begins to stir in the pit of his tummy. Is something wrong with her? Is this man going to help her? Is that why she sent him away in here? He feels his lips begin to tremble, but tries his best to not let a single tear out: he didn’t know what was wrong with Ma, but he needed to be brave, and brave boys don’t cry.
He picks up his toy from his lap and rolls the small wooden puppy on wheels on the table to try and think of other things. He’d like to have his own puppy one day. The Smith family next door to them have small puppy that they let Hamish play with sometimes, so maybe he can convince Ma to get one for their own home, too!
Just as he’s halfway through coming up with compelling arguments as to why they should get a pup, Ma enters the the kitchen, and relief floods Hamish’s body. But then he sees that she looks like she’s about to start crying as she kneels down to be eye-level with him. He places his hand on her cheek and tells her everything is going to be alright. He doesn’t know exactly what’s wrong, but that’s what she always did when he was upset and it always worked with him, so maybe it’ll work with her, too. She tells him that it is, and that she has to go away for a little bit, but the man she introduced him to was going to take really good care of him for now.
Hamish is confused and wants to scream, but Ma looks so sad and he doesn’t want to make things worse, so he nods his head and hugs her.
And just like that, she’s gone.
He’s left in the kitchen, hears the front door close, and doesn’t even feel the hot tears that are staining his face.
It takes eight months until Hamish finally feels comfortable calling the man Ma left him with by Da. But when he finally does, he has to admit that it does give him that warm, fuzzy feeling inside that went away along with Ma.
--
At age 7, he finds Montgomery Scott.
Hamish Campbell gazes in awe of the brand new television set in the living room. It’s something he’s never had the privilege to have before now, and what’s happening on the screen is truly a sight to behold: People in colorful uniforms flying across the galaxy inside a spaceship zooming from planet to planet, boldly going where no man has gone before. They’re teammates and friends who go on adventures, and it’s absolutely mesmerizing. There’s one crew member in particular that catches his attention immediately, though. He excitedly looks up from da’s lap to ask who the man in red is that sounds exactly like him.
His da tells him that his name is Scotty and that he is the crew’s engineer. He makes sure that their ship is always working and that everything they use--phasers, communicators, everything--is always in tip-top shape so all of his friends will always be safe.
Every week, Hamish and his da tune in to watch the crew of the USS Enterprise take on their next adventure, and with each episode, the boy becomes more and more fascinated by Scotty, the miracle worker. Could one man really be that important for that entire ship? They all rely on him for so much. Even Captain Kirk himself depends on him to make sure they make it back up to the Enterprise in one piece. And like that, a decision is made. When he grows up, Hamish wants to be just like Montgomery Scott.
His da even buys him his own phaser and communicator for his next birthday (which he then dismantles because he wants to try and make it better just like Scotty would, da!), and demands that he gets to be Scotty every time they play together.
--
At age 13, he finds Cameron Duncan.
Hamish Campbell is walking over to his new neighbour’s house to borrow a screwdriver so he can see if he can fix his bedside clock (his da confiscated his after he took apart their telephone in order to replace the rotary with a keypad. He succeeded, but it unfortunately lead to his da missing a very important call). The fact that their neighbour’s pretty daughter, Flora Duncan, also happens to live in that house means nothing.
He smooths out his shirt before knocking on the door, reciting in his head exactly what he’s going to say when Flora Duncan appears in front of him. The door opens, but instead of the pretty girl he is expecting to see, Hamish instead sees a young man who looks to be in his late teens with the exact same eyes as Flora.
Eyes that are attached to an incredibly handsome face.
A different set of nerves and confusion build up inside of himself. These are feelings he’s never had towards those of the same gender, and he desperately tries to rid of them so he can at least voice the question he originally came here to ask. After he introduces himself and asks if he can borrow a screwdriver, Flora appears behind the teen and excitedly greets Hamish, telling him that this is her older brother, Cameron, who is visiting from uni.
Hamish briefly wonders if he’ll be visiting forever.
Eventually, Flora brings him a screwdriver, accompanying Hamish home to watch him tinker with his clock, giving the occasional suggestion or question. He always enjoys spending time with her, and this afternoon is no different. They talk of inconsequential things: how Flora is enjoying Aberdeen instead of Glasgow, the Star Trek convention that’s happening in America next weekend (a girl who unashamedly likes Star Trek! Truly a dream come true), and their plans for the rest of the winter holiday. He feels butterflies flutter in his stomach when her hand brushes his and he looks up from the clock in his hands to look at her. Her eyes are lovely and he notices she is leaning in towards him. Hamish’s heart is beating faster than he thinks is healthy.
It’s almost ridiculous that his first kiss happens in the middle of his living room while a screwdriver and taken-apart clock are in his hands.
They part and look away, both blushing furiously with massive grins on their faces.
Flora Duncan is definitely his dream girl, but he can’t escape the feeling that Cameron Duncan might be his dream boy, too.
--
At age 18, he finds Beaker and John Denver.
Hamish Campbell is lying down in his dormitory bed in Cambridge. Classes are to start tomorrow and his roommate is off having one last dinner with his mother and father. There’s a black pit in his stomach at the thought of the word father. He feels a fresh wave of despair begin to build up inside him and tries his best to keep it down and away.
It’s been twenty-seven days since his da’s passing (he hasn’t called his father Da in years, but he feels the smallest bit of comfort by calling him that lately). He didn’t even get to see his son off to his first year at university. Hamish shuts his eyes and tries his best to just stop thinking. For once in his life, Hamish does not want to think, does not want to have his mind racing from idea to idea, because every single thought he has brings him back to his dearly departed da.
He shakes his head and gets up from his bed and quickly puts on his shoes, shoving his keys and wallet into his pockets before leaving his dormitory to take a walk into the late afternoon. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking, doesn’t even care where he’s going, as long as he goes somewhere that doesn’t make him think of--
Well, clearly it wasn’t fucking working.
Hamish can feel his throat constrict, but forces his emotions to fucking stay down. He stops walking to collect himself. There was no way he was about to break down in public. He can’t remember feeling this empty and lost since he was a small child, when his ma told him she had to go away for a while (little did tiny Hamish know that a while actually meant forever). And then, he hears a noise.
Specifically, he hears a squeak. A meep?
Lifting his head, Hamish sees he’s stopped in front of a television store. And on the screen was…the Muppets? This poor skinny puppet with a perpetual frown seems as though he’s being tortured in a lab, and the other puppet next to him looks as though he either doesn’t care or doesn't notice. Possibly both.
Before he knows it, the ending credits are rolling and the sun that had just begun to set when he first set off on his walk is nearly all the way hidden behind the horizon. He feels like an idiot. 18-years-old and watching the blasted Muppets? And yet…
He didn’t think about his da once.
Every week from then on, Hamish walks to this exact store at the exact same time to watch the Muppets and see the different ways poor Beaker suffers. He also notices that the many experiments they’re doing actually look like they would be quite good fun. Yes, they may be fictitious and ridiculous, but Hamish knows he could make those imaginations into reality. And also in ways that would make it so Beaker wouldn’t get hurt.
Hamish also becomes a big fan of that American country singer that makes frequent appearances, and ends up buying all of his records that are out. Track seven on the second side of Poems, Prayers & Promises particularly resonates well with him. It makes him think of Aberdeen, of rolling green hills, of a lovely young girl and her brother, of sitting on the couch watching Star Trek with his da.
Who would have known that the fucking Muppets would have lead him to new schematics, a country singer who seemed to know him better than anyone else, and the gift to finally start living after grieving for his father.
--
At age 19, he finds Harry Hart.
Hamish Campbell is nursing a beer at the party his roommate is hosting, bodies seemingly in every nook and cranny in their small flat. He didn’t even think he knew this many people, how many of them were actually even invited? He squeezes his way past a couple he thinks he's seen before, but he can't really tell at the moment (was that kissing or mutual mouth-to-mouth resuscitation they were doing?). Hamish just wants to make it to the front door so he can get at least some fresh air, and take a break from the mix of sweat, smoke, and alcohol that permeated within his home.
He’s not looking where he’s going as he maneuvers past yet another pair of people joined at the mouth, and feels something solid ram into him. The rest of his beer is suddenly all over his roommate’s shirt. Perfect. Does beer stain? A hand keeps touching his chest, and the voice accompanying is a deep and nervous one saying how he’s so terribly sorry and that he’ll pay for any dry cleaning necessary. A very posh voice. A familiar posh voice. Hamish looks up.
A familiar posh voice to match a familiar handsome face.
Yes, Hamish has definitely seen this face before. He was walking through campus after a rather grueling day of lab work, and heard a man boasting of Lord Byron and reciting lines proudly from memory to what he assumed were friends of his. Handsome face, tall build, strutting peacock of a personality is what Hamish concluded after merely ten seconds of being within this man’s presence. However, it was that damn near enchanting voice that had Hamish slowing his pace to discreetly listen (not stopping altogether to look at him, heavens no, and give him even more reason to stroke his own obvious ego? Absolutely not). So he strains his ear to hear this cocky public school boy lament over This heart, alas! perverted long until his voice is not even a mere whisper in the wind.
But that Lord Byron imposter under a shaded tree is a far cry from the frazzled young man in front of him now. He can’t help but smile at this strange creature and gently takes a hold of wrist to stop him from dabbing at his shirt any longer. Their eyes meet and if Hamish were even a mere fraction of the romantic he had seen in the middle of campus only a few weeks ago, he would swear he feels his heart skip a beat.
He is at eye level with him (tall indeed) and seems…uncertain almost. So he gives him another smile and reassures him that there is no harm done. He finds out his name is Harry Hart (god, even his name sounds like a bloody pseudonym) and that he has just started his first year at Cambridge. Hamish doesn’t know what it is, but he finds himself wanting to know more about this Harry Hart, who was lavish and almost pompous in his ability to recite poetry from memory no less than two weeks prior, yet he now be a nervous and fumbling young man spilling alcohol everywhere.
So he invites him to his room to change, and Hamish should have seen it coming, really. Harry is most certainly good-looking and Hamish is interested. He leads Harry through what he realizes is his first time with a man (and later finds out is his first time with anyone), telling him they can stop at any time he wants.
When they are lying in his bed naked and coming down from their highs, chests heaving and glistening with sweat, Hamish realizes he never even told him his name. They end up talking for hours, well after the party is over, and find they don’t quite want to stop talking even when the first glimpse of the sun begins to appear through the window.
He isn’t surprised when Harry Hart becomes a permanent fixture in his life from then on.
--
At age 26, he finds Merlin.
Hamish Campbell is in a room with a man who seems to be between the ages 50 and 60. It’s been three years since he joined Her Majesty’s Armed Force, three years since he nearly strangled Harry Hart for following him, three years since Mrs. Hart gave him a loving hug and kiss when he left for basic training.
And now, some middle-aged man with palmade-soaked hair is offering him a job opportunity that Hamish is sure only existed in James Bond novels and films. Hamish’s face stays stoic, not daring to display any emotion for this man whom he doesn’t know if he should even trust. There was no way this could be real, after all. It had to be a scam. A private intelligence agency? Really? Who the fuck in their regiment put this man up to this? He bet it was Graham--he always enjoyed taking the piss out of him, the arrogant prick.
Hamish gives the man his best wishes and declines, and moves to return to Harry (wherever the hell he is on this base, he’s always flitting about), but before he can, he feels something fly past his face and latch the door closed.
So he decides to give this man another chance.
He tells Hamish that the Kingsman have had their eyes on him for a little while, seeing the schematics and blueprints he’s submitted to his superiors that were denied (they deemed them as unrealistic fantasy weapons, but Hamish suspects it’s because they think themselves to be high and mighty and didn’t for one second believe a schemie like him could ever come up with something like this). This man who goes by Merlin, for god’s sake, wants him to join their tech and handler department, to design and create gadgets for their agents to keep them safe.
Hamish has a fleeting reminder of playing with toy phasers and communicators in the living room with his da.
And with that, Hamish says yes, but on one condition: if he goes, so does Harry Hart. They’re a package deal. Merlin raises his brow almost as a challenge. He says he’ll see what he can do, but Hamish shakes his head. He’s not saying yes until he gets a guarantee that his best friend joins as well. Eventually, the man relents and tells Hamish to bring the boy in.
Between the two of them, Merlin didn’t stand a chance.
--
At age 55, he finds Eggsy and Roxy.
Hamish Campbell is sitting at his office desk. It’s been four months since that fateful V-Day, and Kingsman has only just now been able to bring itself back on its feet after losing an Arthur, Bors, Gawain, and Gala--
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It still hurts so fucking bad. After Eggsy was done celebrating with Princess Tilde (who he’s now in a relationship with, Hamish certainly didn’t see that coming) and they picked up Roxy and finally made it back to Kingsman HQ, Hamish went back to his and Harry’s home, then immediately left to go back to the estate. He couldn’t stay there. There were too many memories, too many reminders of the life he shared with Harry inside of its walls for twenty-odd years. So instead, he offered it to Eggsy and his family. If anyone deserved a new and better start, it was the Unwins, after all. He moved back into HQ for a month before securing his own modest house in Chiswick, along with a small retriever-samoyed pup named Lyra (a precious thing that was missing her front left leg) to begin his own new start at life. A life without Harry Hart.
Hamish looks at his watch and shouldn’t be surprised to see that it reads three in the morning. He stretches and takes off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes, Kingsman is back on its feet, but there’s still so much to do. At least, that’s what all the paperwork sitting in front of him (mocking him, he swears) is saying.
He hears the door open and knows who it is, and wants to admonish Eggsy and Roxy for not knocking first, but he’s just too damn tired. He says nothing as Eggsy helps him out of his chair and Roxy shuts down his computer, and remains silent as they walk him to his quarters within the estate, sandwiched between the two of them. They both have their arms around him and make soft, teasing remarks, telling him that Kingsman can survive one night without Merlin at his desk, that sitting there in his chair for such a long period isn’t good for an aging man’s spine.
He doesn’t say anything as they sit him on his bed, slip off his shoes and glasses, and gently push him down onto the pillows. He isn’t even able to stay awake long enough before they turn off the light and leave his room.
When he wakes the next morning, he sees a pushcart at the foot of his bed that’s holding a steaming cup of tea and a generous fry up clearly meant for him. And the card that reads Take the day off, old man! makes him laugh and brings tears to his eyes.
These two agents, these two young, young agents certainly weren’t who he thought they would be. From two different backgrounds and upbringings, but the friendship that cultivated between the two of them is strong and steady and just makes sense, something that almost reminds him of himself and…
Harry. Himself and Harry. He can say it now.
Later that day, Hamish calls them to his room. When they arrive, he orders them to close the door, and then immediately gathers the two of them into a fierce hug saying thank you thank you thank you again and again.
He doesn’t know what he did to deserve Eggsy and Roxy in his life, but doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to thank Harry or Percy enough for finding them, if not for Kingsman, then for himself.
--
At age 57, he finds four people.
The first he finds is Harry Hart. Again.
Hamish Campbell can’t fucking believe this. He’s tied to a chair sitting next to Eggsy who is also tied up in a chair, and piss-shit whisky (without an ‘e’) is drenching his pants, all thanks to this redneck behemoth of a man. He’s experienced a lot in his thirty-plus years as a Kingsman, but this certainly ranks up there as one of the more strange.
And fucking irritating.
He knows he should probably be a bit more compliant considering, well, everything, but he’s tired from the flight, it was hot as shit outside, he has a goddamn headache from being rammed head-first into a barrel of whisky, and his favourite pair of trousers are now ruined. And, again, he and Eggsy are tied to chairs. So Hamish thinks he has a right to be a little pissed off right now.
His anger immediately switches to astonishment (then elation, then panic) when all of a sudden, Harry Hart is in front of him.
He’d be thrilled if this fucking American wasn’t pointing a gun to his dead lover’s face.
He’s screaming, and Eggsy’s screaming, and he knows they’re both terrified because they cannot lose Harry all over again, not now, not before they even have the time to process that he’s back. Before tears begin to fill his eyes over the mass hysteria that is going on inside him, he hears a door open, and a woman holding an umbrella comes in, telling the bloody cowboy to put his gun down and untie them. He wants to thank this woman properly, but the moment they’re released, Hamish sets off for Harry. He could cry from relief and love and pure shock, really, if it weren’t for the multitude of witnesses surrounding them.
But then, Harry backs away from them, practically shrinking. He holds out his hand to introduce himself. Something is so, so very wrong.
It’s like stepping into a bizarre parallel universe. The personality of this Harry is one he knew from so long ago. From before Kingsman, even before the army. This Harry is from visiting butterfly museums in London during their Cambridge days, from spending nights in each other’s flats during winter holidays with warm tea and arguing over playing John Denver or ABBA records next, from listening to Harry go on and on about the different types of butterflies he’s seen (with pictures and, occassionaly, preserved dead ones, for proof) and Hamish in turn explaining new invention ideas to Harry, even if his friend couldn’t understand them. But the body of this Harry belonged to the secret agent trained to kill in a myriad of ways MI6 couldn’t even hope to dream of, who had more stamina than most other Kingsman agents even when the newer recruits began to make comments on his age, who proved each of them wrong by pinning them to the ground faster than they could even lift their arm. And that smile. God, that smile. A schoolboy’s face ghosting a body meant for an old man. It makes Hamish’s stomach flutter with…well, he doesn’t quite know.
He doesnt’t know if he even likes the feeling.
But Harry doesn’t know who they are. He thinks he’s a lepidopterist. He doesn’t remember following him into the army, or Hamish bringing him along to Kingsman, or the near forty years of friendship, trust, and love that existed between the two of them.
If it weren’t for his training, Hamish would crumble to the ground this instant. Yes, he found Harry again.
But he didn’t find the right one.
--
The second is Ginger Ale.
Hamish Campbell finds himself spending more of his time in America with his Statesman counterpart. And considering she is the one who stopped Agent Tequila from setting his and Eggsy’s bollocks on fire, he can’t say he’s put off by her presence.
She’s kind and too smart for her own good. A bloody genius, even surpassing himself in some aspects. That medi-gel is fucking genius, he really has to ask her to show him how she came about developing that medical miracle.
There’s a wonderful kinship between them, an understanding of being behind the computer and away from the action, but needed and necessary nonetheless. While he never aspires to her want of being out on the field (he engaged in enough carnage while he was in the army, thank you very much), Hamish finds being around Ginger a comfort that he hasn’t known since Ha--
No.
He squashes that thought immediately. Ties it to a chair, shoots its kneecaps, and then shoves a lighter grenade down its throat. He’s not drifting down that pointless road. Nothing will come of it. He doesn’t deserve it, Ginger doesn’t deserve it, and even if he didn’t remember anything about him or their life together, Harry didn’t deserve it, either. So he does what he does best and swallows his emotions, trapping them into the void that has kept him from wallowing in pain over finding Harry only to lose him all over again.
However, that doesn’t stop the fact that he still finds comfort in being around Ginger, especially since they are now bonding over Muppets and John Denver. She’s Dr. Honeydew and he’s Beaker, and honestly, he quite likes the sound of that.
They’re standing away from the mayhem of Agent Whiskey being bucked about by a raging bull when it happens.
He’s in pain over having to look into his partner’s eyes--eye--and not see any love or affection in them, and although she tries to hide it, he knows Ginger feels the same over having to gaze at Tequila’s frozen form. Hamish tells her his name because he has the sudden realization that the only person that used to know no longer cares about him the way he used to, and she tells him hers in return. It’s dark where they are, and he feels himself drifting closer to her. He knows that this is nothing, that neither of them are feeling anything more than platonic friendship, and this could potentially lead to some slight problems.
But he kisses her anyway because he’s lonely, she’s lovely, and Harry remembers everything except that his favorite singer is John Denver.
She goes off to see to Whiskey, and he receive a ping! on his glasses.
Harry.
And because he’s a gentleman and knows that they do need to at least have one conversation about what just occurred between them, he writes into the dust Trust me, and leaves. He quickly goes to the lab to grab all the gear he can carry, then takes the first Statesman plane he can find that has equipment on it. Punching in Harry’s coordinates, he takes off to Singapore just as requested.
He tries to ignore the fact that Harry could ask anything of him and Hamish would still To this day do it in a heartbeat.
--
The third is Harry Hart. Once more. The bastard.
Hamish Campbell feels numb. He doesn’t even think he can experience anymore heartbreak at this point, not when he hears Harry tell Eggsy that he’s never experienced love or companionship, only loneliness and regret.
He knew Harry didn’t remember, even when he remembered. Because he didn’t greet him in the way he should have. There was no love or admiration for a long-term lover in his eyes, just recognition and respect for a colleague. He didn’t greet him with an embrace or a kiss, secrecy and subtlety be damned when Hamish walked into that room and said welcome back, just a companionable Merlin along with a gentlemanly smile and a nod. The man was showing more affection towards Eggsy, for christ’s sake.
And he didn’t remember his favourite singer was John Denver.
It was obvious that Harry didn’t remember, but hearing this…it breaks him. It's the final confirmation, the last nail in the coffin that truly sets in his heart and pierces it through that forces him to truly realize Harry really doesn't remember, and never will.
So when he tricks Eggsy into taking his place on the landmine, tells him and Harry that the split second is over, once again reminds Eggsy of his training, and sings track seven on side two of Poems, Prayers & Promises to distract the guards, Hamish does not feel scared, or in pain, or even regret. Just loneliness.
And then, nothing.
Until he comes to a little while later and feels the most physical pain and ache he’s ever felt in his life. He blinks a bit to regain his vision (how his glasses stayed on, he’ll never know) and then looks down to see that he’s missing two limbs he didn’t quite realize how much he’d miss until they were gone. Fucking perfect. Thank god he decided to put on that compression suit underneath his bespoke.
He takes off what remains of his suit jacket, grabs the knife that had landed next to him, and cuts it in half, tying them around the bloodied stumps as makeshift tourniquets (he’s not sure what good that’ll do since his legs are already fucking blown off, but he hopes it’ll steady the bleeding). With all the strength he can muster, Hamish then begins crawling towards Poppy’s compound, picking up a rifle on the way. He finally makes it to the diner in the back and crawls through one of the larger doggy doors and lets out a frustrated sigh, rolling eyes at the scene before him.
Harry and Eggsy are sitting solemnly at the counter with tears cascading down their faces. He yells at them to pull themselves together and help him, for fuck’s sake.
He meets Harry’s eye and sees it. The look that should have been there when he remembered the first time. The love, adoration, disbelief, and relief.
It may have taken him almost fucking dying, but, Hamish figures, the two of them tend to find each other best in those situations.
--
The fourth is Hamish II.
Hamish Campbell can’t keep the grin off his face as he looks at the gold ring brilliantly displayed on his left hand. It’s been exactly twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds since Harry asked him to marry him, twelve minutes and thirty-two seconds since Harry said he’d be right back before disappearing back into the cabin.
It’s going to be hell bringing Kingsman back to what it once was--too much was lost, and there is so much more to get back, but at this moment, Hamish can’t seem to care. Harry didn’t die, he didn’t die, they were engaged, and Roxy and Percival had contacted them before they left that morning, alive and (mostly) well, so Hamish decides he’s going to use this aeroplane ride to not think about rebuilding Kingsman, and just bask in the joy of having the love of his life back.
And that’s when he feels something on top of his head. Something warm. And furry. And...breathing? Harry introduces the small thing as Hamish II. Their son.
Ah. Right. The puppy that Eggsy gave to Harry and then immediately pointed a gun at.
He looks up at Harry, whose face is filled with such love and affection, Hamish can practically feel it radiating off of him. He takes the small cairn terrier off his head and out of Harry’s hand, cradling it in his own arms. So this is it, he thinks. Harry, himself, Lyra (I can’t wait to meet her, love, Hamish II will be delighted to have a sibling), and (are you fucking serious, Harry) Hamish II. His family.
This is more than Hamish ever thought he’d be able to get after that unbearable day two years ago, staring at a mockingly beautiful blue sky flecked with red in the safety in his com station. Yes, this is much more than he expected.
Even if their new puppy (son, Hamish, please get it right or you’ll hurt his feelings) is named Hamish II.