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daddygraves · 7 years

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Inktober Day 16. Defiance

The latest upload of them all. But I had so much fun writing this, I love absorbing myself in the culture of international scenes. Hopefully I’ve portrayed Morocco with justice!

@iffy-kanoknit @melisjevisje

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The bombastic barrage of bullets relentlessly hails down upon two spies, splintering wood, cement chips and paint flakes an additional downpour as they charge around the corner of a Marrakesh market street.

Despite dusk having slipped away hours ago, the day's lingering heat remains trapped in the markets, clinging to stalls and the linen skirts of customers. But there is no time to stop and peruse the beautiful trinkets, or sample the exotic food in a florid melange of hues and colours.

"Galahad! Arthur! Take the next left!" Merlin orders, as the spies barrell through the crush of sweaty bodies in the rowdy market precinct, doing their best not to bowl over the precocious vendors that stepped into their path. Even as black-clad, masked men with semi-automatics thunder after them, paying no heed to the livelihoods they crush underfoot in their destructive path.

"Get down!"

Harry's hand shoves Eggsy's shoulder to the dirt-printed cobblestones as bullets cannonade into the spread of a spice stall, sending intense puffs of grainy powder into the air. Eggsy can taste the intermingling dust and flavour mixed with spit in his mouth. The spice merchant falls, blood blooming and gumming up the fine mounds of powder he so proudly sold.

Another shove from Harry sends Eggsy scrambling behind the next stall showcasing handwoven homewares, before the younger agent finds his feet, sprinting through the masses of bodies as the chorus of panicked screams and gunshots continue. A melee of limbs crawling, jumping, stepping, dragging, women shielding children with their backs, the elderly chivvied away by younger counterparts. A small stampede as Eggsy and Harry turn left, then right, then left again, dodging and weaving through intricately patterned rugs as Merlin barks down the comms link at them.

"Do not retaliate, I repeat, do not. We dinna know which one of these fuckers has the explosives vest on him!"

"Only one way to find out," Harry says grimly, and abruptly changes direction, scooting up a narrow, grime-stained staircase, Eggsy hurrying after him. "What the f-" More bullets ping off the cement-rendered walls of Marrakesh as their pursuers give chase.

"Harry, the fuck are you doing?" Eggsy hollers, as they shove past frightened women who shrink back to the floor, eyes wide with fear behind their vibrant burqas. The elder man hops over a thick balcony railing, and jumps to a nearby flat cement roof, and the newest Galahad is forced to follow suit.

"We'll be sitting ducks up here!" He bellows, looking to his partner with bewilderment and irritation, as Harry scans the murky sea of rooftops before them. Seeming to have made up his mind, the taller man sets off, nimbly springing to the next roof, of rusty corrugated iron.

"Just trust me, Eggsy," Harry calls as they bound from rooftop to roofstop, scrambling over parapets and edges, as shouts and more shots behind them indicate the terrorists are on their tail.

Another jump, and another, as bullets go whistling past their ears, swift invisible blots of death, and one thuds into the back of Eggsy's bulletproof bespoke. A purple medal of pain will blossom in its place, if they survive Moroccan terrorists to see tomorrow. Concrete, then iron, then more concrete, turning back to fire one shot, another, sweat dripping down his face in the glaring moonlight-

There's a crash ahead, and a curse, two bodies fall to Eggsy's pistol and then he turns around. Harry sprawled on the corrugated, moonlit roof of someone's home, a good portion of his calf wedged immovably within it, having crumbled underfoot. His missing eye had indubitably let him down when it came to securing safe footing. Shit.

"Harry get up, I'll hold them off!" Eggsy cries, even as the rain of bullets makes him retreat much further, past Harry, who, grunting, tries to dislodge his foot from the roof.

"It's no use, Eggsy. " There's defeat in Harry's tone, and it doesn't suit him. A cold trickle of what must be sweat runs down Eggsy's spine, as he takes out another terrorist, a bullet sending the bastard careening off the nearby parapet he stood on.

"No." The thought was unthinkable, even as it formed in Eggsy's brain, a tarry, black plague. "Don't you fucking say it-"

"Eggsy." Harry's tone is sharp, as the man twists uncomfortably to fire on the remaining terrorists himself, all of them dropping bar one. Who, realising both Harry and Eggsy's clips were empty, including his own semiautomatic, drops his gun. And pulls from his camouflaged military jacket a thin tube with a button on top, a feral smile cutting his repulsive face.

"Waqad ta'asasat dawlat al'islam, mae aljhad min 'uwlayik aldhyn wahabuu altaqwaa, matuu min ajl al'ilh mae taqrir..."

An iron fist of terror punches through Eggsy's chest. No, no, no -

"Eggsy you have to go." Harry calls, tone sharp, always so proper, even when faced with death. "Go to safehouse Lamp, and do not come back."

'No, no-"

"Leave only when Merlin tells you it is safe, once things have died down, Do you understand?" There's a blazing look on Harry's face, the noble prick, and Eggsy, horror-struck, can't look away.

"Fuck, off, Harry!" He immediately scrambles back in the elder spy's direction panickedly as the terrorist continues to advance, chanting. He's a lot closer to Harry than Eggsy is, and he boy immediately picks up pace, yelling a curse as part of the parapet he's able to step on crumbles away to the ground. Eggsy's sweaty fingers slip, and with a shout, he falls a few meteres, before clinging to the edge of the roof Harry is cemented into "I'm not leaving you-"

"Eggsy, leave." Another pseudo-impact to Eggsy's chest, knocking the wind out of him. "He's going to blow. Go, NOW!"

"ya 'awman alan nafrah shunq ealaa, alshams sutie mushinaan jamieaan maeaan liaintisar majid min rabin."

Dirt crunches beneath the black-clad angel of death, as he clears the final rooftop, and is just metres from Harry. Who, as always, keeps a straight face, as his executioner approaches smugly, singing the final bloody verses of his hellish song. Eggsy pulls with all his might, trying to push himself up, onot the rooftop, to save Harry. He couldn't lose him, not again, no, no-"

"Eggsy! GO!" Merlin screams into the comms link, a background sound of terror, and Eggsy finds it. Find that extra thimble of strength, that golden glow of determination, adrenaline wrenching a guttural roar from his lips.

"Fuck you!"

He bodily rolls himself onto that unstable, iron roof, and with a split second to spare, the terrorist looming over Harry, finger hovering on the trigger, jumps. Eggsy flykicks that motherfucker away from Harry, sending him spiralling off the roof , an earthshaking explosion slamming into both spies as the satanspawn detonates midair.

For a moment, they fall, and with another horrific crash, plummet into the centre of an unsuspecting Morrocan family's living room, landing with two solid thuds on the floor.

Groaning and clutching his ribs, a dust-showered Eggsy pushes the remains of the gobsmacked family's roof off him, creaking to his feet as his head rings. The comms link has disconnected, possibly from the force of the bomb. Fumbling in his suit pocket a little dazedly, he drops every dirham he has, which is more than enough, onto the dinner table, as the five children and frozen mother and father sit, immobile on their cushions.

"lisaqf jadidin. maedhira".

"I believe its pronounced 'my-deer-ha, not may-deer-ha, Eggsy." Harry, equally dust-bathed, comes to stand beside the younger agent, now freed from the confines of the roof. He gazes up at the sizeable hole in the ceiling. "That should be more than enough to cover it."

But two hands plant themselves on Harry's chest, and shove, making the taller man stumble back, eye widening in surprise at the site of an irate Eggsy, swelling with anger, no longer disorientated.

"Fuck you, Harry Hart!"

"I don't care that you're Arthur, I dont care I just directly disobeyed an order, I know what it means, I know Merlin'll crucify me, that I'm in deep shit when we get back."

"You're my partner, you gigantic dick." Eggsy's voice has a tiny waver in it, his eyes filling with tears of relief and frustration. "I love you. Now dont you dare ask me to leave you for dead ever again."

He pokes his finger hard into Harry's chest with those words. But Harry sweeps him into his arms, holding him tightly, murmuring words of apology. They share a dry, dust-flavoured kiss, but not for long. Before the Moroccan father, thunderstruck with fury, bald head aglow, comes to his senses. And plucking his antique scimitar from the wall, chases the two illegal homosexuals from his home with rigour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fun fact- homosexuality is illegal in Morocco. Hope my arabic translation was okish, please correct me if I’ve gotten anything inaccurate in this fic!

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daddygraves · 7 years

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Inktober Day 7. Confusion

Suuuuper late Day 7 submission!

WARNING: This fic contains mentions and explanations of intersex characters.

Also if you'd like to be tagged in all my future Inktober posts, just sing out! Hope you like this piece, it gave me so much trouble getting the tone and expression right! And I'm waaaaay over my intended word limit, this is close to 2.5K! Sorry!

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The first warning sign that your partner is being unfaithful, according to The Truth About Cheating by M. Gary Neuman, is when the notion pops into your head in the first place.

There would have to be some happenstance to cause such a thought, to bring this niggling idea to fruition. Such an idea would not appear out of nothing. And this unfortunate truth is why Harry Hart cannot seem to shake this hankering suspicion.

Eggsy Unwin is the love of Harry Hart's life. The younger man is utterly perfect, a pretty face with a heart of gold, as well as one of the best Kingsman proposals in near a century. It hadn't taken very long for feelings that weren't very platonic to develop within Harry for his protégé, however outrageous and inappropriate those feelings had seemed.

The two men had their fair share of drama, to put it lightly. Harry had been lying comatose in the Infirmary for a good portion of their acquaintance, and then, not long after he awoke, after a horrible row with Eggsy, he'd been shot in the head by a megalomaniac with a lisp in the middle of redneck USA. That had put a damper on things, for a year. Particularly since Harry had woken up sans left eye in the headquarters of the American spy agency, Statesman, with a healthy dose of retrograde amnesia.

But Eggsy hadn't given up on him. He'd come back again, and again, until finally little Hamish the puppy had pulled the strings of Harry's memories back together again. There's a shitfest in Cambodia, a dead nostalgic psychopath and an antidote for the Dancing Disease. Then, the surprise return of a robo-legged quartermaster and much-missed Lancelot, a newly rebuilt HQ and a consensually annulled marriage (Tilde, Crown Princess of Sweden, was ever so grateful to Eggsy for helping her ailing father gracefully abdicate).

Finally, agonisingly, there were no more barriers that stood in their way. So two backstage passes to Elton fucking John later, Eggsy Unwin ends up back at Harry's place. And this is not the sort of mentor-proposal sleepover that had occured last time. Martinis were still brewed, and a breakfast scene still occured, but there were far more confessions of love and a deal of heavy petting involved. The fact that Eggsy Unwin continued to come home with Harry every day and night since, and he was now fully moved in, was just a happy coincidence. No more wasting time- they were Kingsman, and in Harry's lover's words 'who fuckin' knows when one of us will get shot in the head proper this time'.

So with all of that to consider, Harry was firmly in the belief that they could survive anything the world threw at them. But then again, he'd never expected any dilemma like this to occur. Not even in his most haunting, wildest nightmares.

Eggsy was always so attentive, and never once failed to shower Harry with affection and reassurance. A casual hand looped with his at work, stroking acroos Hary's knuckles, and always a kiss and cuddle for luck before every op. At home, the boy was even more attentive, to the point that Merlin now actually refused to check the monitoring cameras at random, complaining that the sight of such 'excessive adoration, yeh twats' was giving him headaches. And then, of late Eggsy had taken up cooking in his spare time, meaning there was no short of oddly healthy, yet delicious food in the cupboards. Shouldn't Harry be over the moon? But M. Gary Neuman had taught him to see right through this glass window of false security. So unfortunately for the latest Kingsman chief, he was feeling anything but over the moon.

Because Harry Hart has a heartbreaking suspicion that Eggsy is cheating on him.

"It's only possible explanation," he argues with subdued certainty to Merlin,as the Scot shakes his head incredulously in the guest chair in Harry's plush office. "He spends all day glued to his phone-"

"Like every other millenial in existence," retorts the quartermaster, poking at his clipboard dismissively. "They're all glued to the bloody things."

"But Neuman, the author of the book on infidelity I'm reading-"

"Neuman can shove it where the sun don't shine."

"He might be organising something nice, for all yeh know," the tech wizard suggests reproachfully. "Is yeh anniversary coming up?"

"Was 3 months ago," Harry answers glumly. "He took me to watch Madame Butterfly." With front-row seats, no less.

"Now tha' don't sound like a man who's cheatin' on his boyfrien'," Merlin remarks, raising eyebrows knowingly. "Yeh worry too much, Arthur."

"My instincts are uncannily accurate thank you very much, Merlin," Harry responds, a hint of huffiness in his tone as he fiddles with a pen on his desk. "I wouldn't suspect something without reason."

"I bet he is planning somethin' wonderful, an' yeh gonna feel sick with guilt at doubtin' him," Merlin declares. "Tha' boy is utterly mad for yeh, yeh twat. He's probably plannin' on proposing."

Harry chooses to rebut this argument with the information that he had turned the house upside down, looking for a ring. And the fact that when Harry brought up the possibility over last night's pasta, his young lover had laughed, no hint of nerves in his tone, and suggested maybe one day, but not yet.

"You're an actual headcase, Harry," Merlin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "For the last fookin' time, yeh boy isn't cheatin'. Now can I take some aspirin, and we get on with discussing the mission allocation for Mumbai?"

The concrete evidence comes several days later. As excruciating as the truth was, Harry simply had to know. He'd been taken for a fool before- he wasn't about to let it happen again.

When he hears Eggsy on the phone, calling someone 'love', his heart finally splinters in his chest. The bowling ball drops into his stomach, and Harry hovers outside the ajar office door, hand over his mouth to stop a cry escaping his clamped lips.

"Ta, darling. I'll see ya tomorrow, as planned? 11:30? Amazin'. See ya!"

M. Gary Neuman had been right.

Eggsy was cheating on him.

Harry hovers around the house for the rest of the night, brushing off Eggsy's various attempts at advances with soft, subdue rebuttals. Whose lips were crushing against Eggsy's when Harry wasn't around, when thise very same lips wrapped around a forkful of spinach quiche across the table from him? Whose wit was making Eggsy chuckle to himself on his phone as he curled down one end of the couch, Harry sitting rigidly up the other? Whose love was making Eggsy's cheeks pinker, and his skin glow, like it never had before with Harry?

"Arthur?"

"Come in, Lancelot."

Roxy takes the seat Harry proffers, waiting patiently as the man himself takes his own seat behind his expansive mahogany desk.

"You asked to see me?" The brunette offers, eyebrows quirking imperceptibly in apparent confusion.

"Indeed," Harry replies, taking a moment to steel himself as he stares down at the grains of wood beneath his fingertips.

"This is difficult of me to ask you, Roxanne, but it has been giving me a fair amount of grief these past weeks. And as Eggsy's closest confidante, and best friend, I trust you will be able to aid me."

"Anything you need, Arthur." Roxy's tone has more than hint of concern into it, and Harry doesn't need to meet her hazel eyes to know she is utterly focused on him.

"Let me be brief," he sighs heavily, wishing his next words would not bring him so much aching agony.

"Is Eggsy having an affair?"

Roxy appears to be choosing her words carefully, and a calm kind of numbness settles over Harry. It's all the confirmation he needs, the final nail in his lover's coffin.

"He's not,-"

"Please, Roxanne, your silence says enough. You may be a wonderfulasset to the Kingsman team, but when it comes it your loved ones, I see what Eggsy means when he says you cannot lie."

"Arthur, wait-" there's sheer panic in Roxy's eyes as Harry gets up from his chair.

"If you will excuse me, Lancelot. I have matters to attend to."

If only every step down HQ's halls did not feel as though Harry's legs were crumbling beneath him. If only every breath did not feel as though his lungs were stuck with thousands of needles as he strides on. If only the sheer suffering that wracked his body didn't hurt so much worse than when Valentine's bullet pierced his skull, as Harry stalks closer to the Galahad office. It's ten to eleven. If Harry catches Eggsy just before he leaves to see his mister, mistress, whoever they may be, it will give the boy several hours to collect his things from Harry's before Harry returns home for the night.

The first thing he had felt was sadness, just as Neuman had explained on pain 263. Misery that he, Harry, was clearly not enough to satisfy the boy's needs, even as a traitorous voice within whispered it was to be expected. That his love would never be enough for someone so young and beautiful. That Eggsy had never loved Harry as much as Harry had loved him. The tears he had shed in private, while Eggsy was half a world away, mourning what had and what could of been.

Then, there was the wondering. The questioning of why the boy had strayed. What had Harry done, or not done, that was not enough for him? The constant thinking of how long it had taken the boy to meet someone who held his eye, who wasn't Harry, and if he loved them. Of exactly who had made Eggsy so withdrawn, engrossed in himself, yet putting on a sunny front for Harry, hoping he wouldn't notice.

And then, last of all, Neuman had warned there was anger. Anger that Eggsy would think him so gullible, an old fool to be taken advantage of. To have the audacity to expect kisses goodnight, and the same level of intimacy, when he was taking a dip in another's pond. And fury, but mostly with himself- for falling in love so deeply and wholly with someone who had been destined to destroy him.

"Hey babe." Eggsy looks faintly surprised to see him, standing at his office door. He steps back, allowing Harry to stride inside.

"I think we need to have a talk, Eggsy." Harry is surprised by how calm he sounds, despite the rushing cyclone of emotions inside of him, ripping through the fabric of his consciousness.

"Uh, yeah, I think we do too," Eggsy says a tad guilty, rocking back on his heels. Was he about to confess?

No. Harry wouldn't give him that courtesy. It was time to cut the cord. Then retreat, pull back before salt could be poured on his deep emotional wounds, and hope he would heal.

"Haz-"

"Eggsy, I know you've been having an affair."

"And quite honestly," Harry continues, tone still mild, "I don't want to know who with, or why. I just want your things out of my home by eight o'clock tonight. Are we clear?"

Why was his heart hammering so painfully, and his throat swelling?

Eggsy stares, clearly dumbstruck. Before-

"What in the actual FUCK?!"

Harry's own anger swells exponentially at Eggsy's own furious expression. "Don't play dumb with me, Eggsy. I know. You can't hide it, I'm not entirely oblivious-"

"Are you actually fucking serious?!" The younger agent shrieks, eyes slits, body rigid with indignance. "What the fuck?! You actually think I would do that to you?!"

What?

"You've been glued to your phone relentlessly," Harry splutters defensively, finding his flame. "I heard you talking to your mistress or mister, I don't know, last week, calling them darling for fuck's sake, you've been taking more pride in your appearance-"

"You're an actual fucking idiot, you know?!" Eggsy spits, grabbing Harry by his upper arms. "What the fuck."

"Stop trying to deny it. Just get out-"

"I'm fucking PREGNANT, you massive wang!"

The oxygen is promptly sucked from Harry's lungs.

"You're what?" He manages, rather faintly, immobile.

"Yes," Eggsy's face is irritated rather than angry, but there's a slow, teary smile creeping across his face. "Pregnant, you fuckin' cockwomble. With your, our, child. Since April."

Eggsy's pregnant. Eggsy's fucking pregnant. His beautiful, beautiful unique boy, was just on 3 months with child. The parts he'd spent so long convincing the boy to love, that he was no less of a man because of what lay between his legs- those pieces of Eggsy, pieces of Harry, had made something wonderful.

Oh my god, oh my god, a dream come true- it's a miracle. Their little miracle, nestled inside the fleshed walls of a womb, slowly blooming to life-

"If I've been on me phone a lot, it's cos I've been Googling like mad," Eggsy explains, eyes meeting Harry's beseechingly. "When I first did the test I was mad scared, ya know- I was in fuckin' Osaka for tha' intel op, I called Rox an' cried my eyes out.

"I was freakin' out so bad, cos I didn't know if intersex people could even have kids- would the baby develop proper, be born ok? It was so fuckin' scary-"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry doesn't mean to sound accusing, but he's just had an atomic bomb dropped on him, quite frankly.

Cos I knew you'd freak out even more'n me, dickhead," Eggsy says pointedly, but there's not much bite in his words. "Ya worry enough as it is. Let alone a pregnancy in a womb tha's not sposed to be there- you'd spontaneously combust, you would."

And as shell-shocked as he is, truthdoes register in Eggsy's words. But there's still a question burning a hole in Harry's larynx.

"Then who were you calling darling on the phone?"

Perplexingly, Eggsy barks a laugh, smile stretching his mouth. "Darling is my gyno's last name, you twat." He rubs Harry's arm absently.

"Louise Darling, she specializes in intersex pregnancies. She's been having appointments wif me every couple of weeks, to check up on Bean."

"Bean?" Harry quirks an eyebrow.

His young lover blushes, seemingly embarrassed. "S'just what I'vd been callin' the baby," he murmurs quietly. "Cos it's so small still. Like a li'l bean."

"An before ya ask, I've been cookin' a shitload of stuff cos' it's all good for the baby, see? Gives me the 'pregnancy glow' All the stuff I been cookin has lots of vitamins in it, an' folic acid, cos Bean needs loads of that-"

But the words die in Eggsy's throat as Harry pulls him in for a crushing cuddle.

It all makes sense, all of it. Every single detail, that Harry blew utterly out of proportion. He'd been so blinded by his own stupidity he hadn't seen what was right in front of him all along. What an absolute fucking fool he had been.

"I'm so sorry, my dear boy, for ever doubting you-"

"An' I'm sorry for not tellin' you, love." Eggsy's voice is muffled into Harry's shoulder, but the tearful emotion in his tone is evident.

After a long moment, the pair break apart, and concern clouds the younger man's sunlit features.

"Wait. Ya do want this, him or her, right?"

Harry drops to his knees without a sound, onto the lush dark carpet of HQ and kisses Eggsy's belly firmly through the fabric of his bespoke, clinging to his partner for dear life.

"There is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I want more than this," Harry says thickly, a solo tear sliding down his cheek, as Eggsy's hand caresses through his pomaded hair."

"It- Bean- is ours. Our little one, a little piece of you and me and I am going to love it and you forever, my dear, dear boy."

He's going to come to meet this Dr. Darling, and see his little Bean fluttering away on the ultrasound screen, hear the sound of it's heartbeat. He'll rub swollen ankles, and run out at all hours of the night to sate whatever weird and wonderful pregnancy cravings plague Eggsy. He will hold tiny, designer, cashmere onesies to his cheek, and imagine the feel of a tiny little body wearing them, who will soon be resting in his arms. He can hardly wait.

"I fookin' told you he wasn't, Harry," a familiar Scottish brogue declares smugly over the office's intercom. "Told yeh. But congratulations. I formally reserve the title of Godfather."

"Noted, Merlin. Now do piss off."

But in fact, Harry isn't even bothered by the interjection. Because all he can do is hold Eggsy close, and cry happy tears into his boyfriend's smiling, equally tear-streaked face. He isn't being cheated on. He's going to be a father.

Let's see what M. Gary Neuman has to say about that.

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