Chapter Text
A brilliant smile spreads across the young man's face.
“Yes, Harry!” Eggsy nods eagerly and gets up from the chair.
Trying to prove his genuine will to learn how to be a true gentleman, he stands by the door and waits for Harry to walk out of his office. He leads the way down to the kitchen, and opens his drink cabinet. He collects the different equipment, bottles, and glasses they will be needing, and places them elegantly on the kitchen top.
Eggsy looks around the kitchen, and wonders how often Harry has dinner guests. He has got a big dining table with many accompanying chairs, but somehow Eggsy can't picture Harry hosting any awkward family Christmas dinners nor any New Year's parties. He is about to ask just as he sees Harry donning a grey and white apron, fastening it behind his back in a swift movement. He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls them up slightly to rest just below his elbows. Eggsy would be lying if he told you his mouth didn't go a bit dry seeing that.
“First, ice.”
Harry takes out a tray of ice cubes from the freezer, cracks the tray, and fills the two glasses up.
“Hey um, I don't fancy me drinks swimmin' in water, mate. You sure it should be that many?”
Harry tries to hide the small smirk, but it's not lost on Eggsy.
“You start by chilling the glass.”
“Oh, right yeah.”
“The gin should always be cold, so never accept a lazy barman, Eggsy. If the gin, or vodka for that matter, does not come straight from the freezer, you're better off with something already supposed to be at room temperature.”
Eggsy is nodding with interest, now taken a seat across from Harry.
“You're making it with vodka? Which brand vodka should you go for normally, Absolute or Finlandia or somethin', yeah?”
Harry stills and closes his eyes for a fraction of a second.
“Neither,” he says with slight distaste colouring his voice.
“A safe choice would always be Grey Goose or Belvedere. They blend perfectly and leave no aftertaste. If a bar does not stock at least the original clear Grey Goose, I suggest leaving the establishment and go elsewhere.”
Harry unscrews the bottle of gin and looks quickly at Eggsy, before producing a steel jigger from one of the kitchen drawers. He flips it quickly from between his little- and ring finger to hold between his thumb and index finger. And winks at Eggsy.
“Hah!”
It feels like someone is positively standing on his chest, and he only manages a garbled laugh and an impressed nod back to his mentor.
“Now, traditionally many will favour vermouth over gin, but I personally promote the use of a good gin,” Harry says, measures the gin and some vodka in the jigger, and then pours it into the cocktail shaker.
His movements are as impeccable and precise as the man himself, and Eggsy can't help but look at said man in front of him in complete awe. He probably looks like a complete imbecile, but he can't find it in himself to care. Harry Hart is right there in a snazzy apron, winking and wielding bar-tending equipment like an absolute professional. As far as Eggsy's concerned it might as well be Christmas.
“The taste of gin is a tad more,” Harry takes a few seconds to contemplate the right adjective as he stirs the drink with a bar spoon.
“Mature,” he decides on, and sticks the spoon into his mouth, sucking at it lightly, then nods to himself.
It looks absolutely sinful, and Eggsy loses his ability to understand the english language for the next couple of seconds.
“..and then you turn and wave a toast in the general direction of Italy,” Harry finishes his demonstration, and Eggsy has no clue of what was previously said.
“And there you are,” Harry says and slides a glass across the kitchen top.
“Cheers, mate!” Eggsy smiles and lifts the glass in a tiny toast.
They nod to each other and takes a sip of their respective drinks.
“Harry, this is well good, bruv.”
Eggsy throws the rest of the drink down and Harry can't help but shake his head in amusement.
“You have to teach me this, mate!”
“That,” Harry says and smiles as he fishes up another identical apron from a drawer.
“..is my intention, Eggsy. Come around to this side, if you would.”
They stand there working together as Eggsy attempts to imitate Harry's instructions. Aside from the occasional correction here and there, Eggsy is doing quite well.
After an hour and a half they relocate to the sitting room, their fourth martinis in hand and a more casual air about their conversation. They sit down in Harry's blood red sofa, a few inches closer to one another than they normally would, but Eggsy decides not to dwell too much on the fact. A warm and slightly fuzzy feeling has wrapped itself around him, and he lets himself slouch back down against the back of the sofa.
“So..did I pass?” Eggsy asks cocking his head slightly, giving Harry his best grin.
Harry sighs contently as he bows his head with a smile.
“With flying colours, Eggsy,” Harry says and gives his shoulder a squeeze, letting his hand slide a few inches before slapping Eggsy's upper arm lightly, then turning to take another sip of his drink.
A comfortable silence settles over them, and they sit there for a few minutes before Eggsy clears his throat turning towards Harry with a more serious face. He tries to will down his pulse racing under his skin, suddenly nervous and self-conscious.
“Hey, listen Harry, mate. I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate everythin' you've done for me, and taught me. These last couple months've really been sorta life-changin' for me, and uh, it might sound daft comin' from me an' all, but thank you.”
Eggsy swallows. Harry lets his lips quirk up in a small smile seeing Eggsy so nervous.
“It has been my pleasure, Eggsy. No need to thank me.”
”No, I do. I will do me best for the final test tomorrow, I want to make you proud, and not have you feelin' you've been wasting all this time on me for nuffin', yeah? What you've done, it means a lot to me.”
He squares his jaw and looks straight at Harry.
“You mean a lot to me.”
He hears his own heartbeat pumping furiously and only hopes that it goes unnoticed.
For a second Eggsy is afraid that he has said something wrong. Aside from his eyes searching Eggsy's in an almost questioning matter, Harry's face is completely blank. Normal old cool and collected expression. Harry clears his throat and looks right back at Eggsy, who looks like he is about to flee or faint.
“You mean a lot to me, too, Eggsy,” he says and smiles, and he feels the strange sensation of it reaching his eyes.
He can see some of the tenseness melt away from Eggsy's posture, and the younger man bites his lip slightly with a nod.
“Yeah, good. Good. That's..yeh.”
Eggsy downs the rest of his martini. He sits there looking around the sitting room, anywhere except Harry, his leg jittering rapidly before he suddenly claps his hands together.
“Right, uh, let's put on some music or somethin', yeah?”
Harry couldn't agree more. The air had changed somewhat, to something... he couldn't put his finger on. Some music to fill the sudden slightly awkward silence would be more than welcome.
“Be my guest. The stereo is over there,” Harry says pointing his martini to underneath one of the windows.
Eggsy turns on the radio and flicks through many different channels, trying to find something which wouldn't be too terrible for Harry, nor for himself. It's a difficult task.
“I don't think this... Do you have any records you like?”
“Wait,” Harry perks up suddenly.
“Could you please go back one channel, Eggsy?”
Eggsy does, and the voice of a man and an acoustic guitar flows through the speakers and fills the room.
You can take me where you will
Up the creek and through the mill
Like all the things you can't explain
Four seasons in one day
“This?” Eggsy asks and is surprised turning back to see Harry swaying his head slightly to the melancholy melody.
“Yes. I quite fancy this group.”
That was something Eggsy would never guess.
Half-mocking Harry's comment to him from some months ago, he raises an eyebrow and says in his best posh voice:
“Well, you're full of surprises.”
Eggsy goes back to sit on the sofa as the song continues, and plops down beside Harry so close that their knees knock into each other.
The songs fades out and the voice of a calm and pleasant-sounding woman tells them that what they just heard was Crowded House with the song Four Seasons in One Day.
“...and continuing our Crowded House-special tonight, here is maybe one of the lesser well known songs, but in my opinion, one of their best. For all new listeners tuning in now in the late of night, this is our radio 6 music Crowded House-special. Here is a personal favourite of mine, “Not the Girl You Think You Are”.”
Harry lets his head fall back against the sofa with a sigh. He then gets up and turns to Eggsy, offering him a hand. Eggsy looks between the hand and Harry with confusion and nervous hope in his eyes.
“During the test today you were all drugged before you were able to try to seduce your mark. In my experience, nothing works better than a classic, slow dance. Last lesson for today?”
There is something similar to a nervous edge to Harry's voice, but Eggsy writes it off on the martinis. He takes the hand offered to him and lets himself be dragged up, lets Harry's hand rest on his lower back as they start swaying slowly to the melody. The words float out from the speakers again and grips his attention.
You're not the girl you think you are
they're not his shoes under your bed
he'll take you places in his car
that you won't forget (no)
Eggsy's hand fits nicely in Harry's slightly bigger one, and Harry rubs slow circles on the back of Eggsy's hand with his thumb, absentmindedly, as they move with the beat of the song.
And all the people that you know
will turn their heads as you go by
but you'll be hard to recognize
with the top down and the wind blowing, blowing
When Eggsy dares to take a look up at Harry, he nearly jolts with surprise to see the older man looking at him quite affectionately. He doesn't want to stare, but he doesn't dare to look away either. When the chorus comes Eggsy feels like all the air disappears from his lungs, as Harry tilts his head and mouths the words without looking away.
He won't deceive you or tell you the truth
woman, he'll be no trouble
he won't write you letters
full of excuses
come on, believe you have one in a million
The song continues, as do they, swaying with its tempo, Harry leading them, inching them a bit closer together. Eggsy can feel the older man's breath on his face, and he is sure Harry can feel his heart racing in is chest.
“Like this song, do ya?”, Eggsy tries for sarcastic and playful, but it lands on awkward and nervous.
He tries to make up for it with a chuckle. It doesn't make it any less awkward.
“I do, yes,” Harry murmurs, the baritone of his voice vibrating in his chest pressed close to Eggsy's.
Harry spins Eggsy around, effortlessly, catches him again, even closer now.
“One of my favourites.”
“It's a nice song,” Eggsy breathes, barely over a whisper.
Harry smiles back at him and pushes Eggsy's head slowly to rest against his chest and collarbone. They continue like this and Eggsy feels certain he has never felt calmer, happier, or more loved than he feels now.
“Eggsy,” Harry whispers just above his head.
“Yes, Harry?”
“About what you said,”
Another spin, “earlier,” Harry says and leans his cheek against Eggsy's cap clad head.
“I want to have you know, not a second spent with you is a wasted moment for me.”
Harry knows how it sounds. He knows they are soon touching upon possibly difficult terrain if they let it continue. He knows how it sounds. And the only thing he can think is 'So what?'
He hears Eggsy sigh, and he feels the young man almost melt into him. Eggsy drapes his arms around Harry's waist, and Harry can't do anything else than to let his hands rest on the younger man's shoulders. The song is nearing its end. Neither of them wants to acknowledge it.
When the song finally fades out and the voice of the woman comes back, Harry taps at Eggsy's shoulders. Eggsy is not letting him go.
“Eggsy. It's late.”
No response.
With caution and a deep sigh, Harry presses his lips to the side of Eggsy's head, inwardly cursing his weak resolve.
“Big day tomorrow, remember?”
Eventually Eggsy nods and untangles himself from Harry's body. Suddenly self-conscious he rubs the back of his neck, laughing, and a lovely pink colours his cheeks. Harry feels as though something has crept up within him and squeezes around his heart. He shakes mentally himself out of it, and goes to turn off the stereo.
“Let's get you sorted for bed.”
Eggsy simply nods and follows Harry back upstairs, trying to show no disappointment when he's led to a guest room. The bed is already neatly made, and a maroon coloured robe identical to Harry's rests atop of it.
“Everything you could need before tomorrow should be here. But if not, don't hesitate to ask me if there is anything else you need. I'm just down the hall over there.”
Harry turns and points to a door opposite of them, and when he turns back he locks eyes with Eggsy, who's leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. He looks at Harry up from under his lashes, fixes the older man with an almost challenging gaze.
“Is there anythin' else in particular I should be needin',” Eggsy all but whispers, “before tomorrow?”
Harry feels something almost like an electrical jolt to his lower abdomen. He swallows, but keeps his eyes on Eggsy.
“I-,” he clears his throat quickly, “I wouldn't want to speculate.”
There is definitely a challenge in Eggsy's voice now.
“Are you sure?”
Harry stares. No, he finds that he wants to answer. No, I'm not sure.
But they had been drinking rather a lot, and Harry was afraid the alcohol was clouding Eggsy's better judgement in the situation. He wouldn't take advantage of that. He cared too much for the younger man to do that.
“Yes, Eggsy. Good night.”
Harry hated to see the playful light in Eggsy's eyes disappear in a split second, replaced by sudden embarrassment.
“ 'course, yeah..! You too, Harry.”
Harry nods and turns to leave for his bed room.
“And thanks for a..nice evenin' and all.”
Harry smiles solemnly to himself without turning back to Eggsy.
“Likewise, Eggsy. Sleep well.”
Harry shuts his bed room door behind him and leans against it. The cool of the wooden door feels good against his almost searing skin. He feels warm all over, and doesn't take his time folding his clothes as he normally would. He slips out of his clothes until he's down to his black briefs. He's embarrassed to see he is completely hard, but he tries his best to ignore it and slips into bed. After a while he loses track of how long he's been lying there, stubbornly trying to will his erection away. Turning for the umpteenth time he hears low music coming from the hallway. He strains his ears for a few seconds before giving up. He gets out of bed and opens his door no more than two inches. Harry sees faint blue light from his guest room. Eggsy is probably listening to music on his phone. When he listens again he clearly hears the song Eggsy's listening to. The same one they had danced to, just short of an hour earlier. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping Harry turns to go to bed again when he stops dead mid-stride.
Mixed in with the music he hears a moan coming from his guest room. Then another. Then another.
Harry flushes and feels like it's suddenly 30 degrees warmer in his bed room. He goes to bed again, closes his eyes resolutely and pulls his covers right up to his chin. He didn't close his door, and now it is impossible to escape the unholy sounds coming from Eggsy's room.
After failing at even his most effective meditation technique, Harry finally gives in. He slips his briefs down around his thighs and he feels aroused, embarrassed, and completely childish when he grips himself and starts moving his hand in slow, languid strokes. He has given in now and can't no longer bother with being reasonable and morally conscious. He thinks about Eggsy inching closer to him on the sofa, about the arms which wrapped around him during their dance. He thinks about the curious face of the young man outside the police station. He thinks about those hideous trousers that seem to hug Eggsy's arse just perfectly, and he thinks about how many times he has nearly been caught looking at it.
A low groan escapes his mouth before he can stop it, and he is pumping himself now, with one hand gripping tightly around his cock, and the other clutching at the sheets of his bed so hard his knuckles turns white. He had been tempted to do this many times, but had always managed to act reasonable and professional about it. Now, with the object of his affection only some few meters down the hall, he finds himself unable to control his thoughts.
A low and muffled, almost guttural groan comes from the guest room, and that is all it takes for Harry to be sent flying over the edge. He shudders as he comes in hard, long spurts over his own stomach, not caring about how he is soiling his exclusive bed linen. It is the most powerful orgasm he has had in a while and he rides it out arching slightly, before he falls back spent and limp heaving for his breath.
The hallway is completely silent again, and for a few seconds Harry feels utterly horrified if Eggsy had in any way heard him. The panic blows over quickly when he hears light snoring coming from the room opposite of his. Sleep suddenly tugging at the corners of his eyes, stronger than normal, he falls asleep with a slight smile on his lips.
Tomorrow would be a good day.