[ it worked, he notices, in the way eggsy seems a little less listless and a little more together. part of him wonders if it's not for the better that eggsy just let it out, spill his thoughts and worries on a stranger who knows nothing other than eggsy can be trustworthy and eggsy is a hero. he saved his family, didn't he? his mentor? james also realizes, then, that he hasn't gotten eggsy's mentor's name, and wonders if he should ask, or if that would break whatever they've managed to salvage of the conversation.
he lets it slide for now, instead turning to his own story. letting his words curl out in casual conversation. he does know that from their history - knowing each other for little over a day or so - they most likely shouldn't be diving directly into all of this. it's heavy, it's difficult, it's death and dying and the destruction of worlds, and despite the way his head nearly spins when he turns it, james wonders if he should try for another shot. just for something to do, just for something for his hands. but he doesn't, the lurch in his stomach reminding him that he hasn't eaten nearly enough for any more of an intense night ahead, and he exhales - sounding something closer to a laugh, or maybe just a puff of air, lighter and only a little self-deprecating. ]
I do. [ he knows there is a bit of the surprise there, a question about how young he is and how he's got a family and james wants to talk about it. more than anything, he wants to talk about lily, about hogwarts, about late nights in the gryffindor dorm room keeping up sirius and remus and peter with how amazing and wonderful she is and how she definitely looked at me today in potions, mate. i'm telling you. about the first time he held harry, the first time harry laughed, the way lily looked seeing their son for the first time.
james opens his mouth to start, but then realizes he can't quite find the words. so after a few attempts - open mouth, closed smile, open mouth, laugh - he just shifts, reaching down to pull out his wallet from the back of his pocket, and then a single photo from out of there, of the two of them - lily and harry - laughing at something ridiculous he's probably doing. there is a second's hesitation before he hands it over to eggsy, lily's moving frame waving to the screen as she looks down to harry, trying to get his tiny little arms to do the same. james' smile is fond, in the only way a father's can, but the weightlessness of the look dims at the question.
he thinks about the drink again, and again decides against it, his eyes watching the moving photo a bit distractedly as he begins to speak. his voice is hollow, despite his best efforts, but not pained. not really. ] Back home we're all dealing with this war. Some witches and wizards think there's some kind of 'blood purity' to being able to use magic. It's all a fucking mess, really- [ there is something dark hidden under james' voice, a hatred for what is happening. but when he cuts himself off, he finds himself sighing, his own hand moving to card his fingers through his own hair. ] But they're all behind this one dark one. Voldemort. [ he keeps pressing, not quite letting himself get caught up on each thought that comes to mind. ] There was a prophecy, that a child would be born powerful enough to destroy him...
[ except that even now, james can't quite bring himself to say it. we went into hiding, we had to protect him, we couldn't let them get to harry. in the photo, baby harry is just an infant, not even a year old. lily looks so happy holding him, harry looks so young. and then, in unison, he feels like he thinks about all of it at the same time. thirteen years old and he's brilliant and voldemort came to godric's hollow. it moves by in flashes, a bit like lightning, and a few moments later james blinks, a pressure building behind his eyes.
except that won't do, will it? and james sits up a little straighter, inhaling a quick breath and pulling himself together. ]
My mates are from the future. Thirteen years after the night I apparently made the pact to be here, after Voldemort apparently showed up at our home for my son and my wife and I- well, my wife destroyed the wanker to protect our son. Who- [ his hand motions vaguely towards the photo. ] Is, apparently, thirteen now.
[ the moments following are heavy, and james immediately feels himself starting to regret saying anything at all, but with that wave of guilt and anger and hopelessness comes a bubble of something else. something effervescent and unwilling to be contained. james leans forward, running his hands over his face, as he reminds himself to breathe. breathe, breathe, and then james laughs. ]
[ eggsy is already leaning into james' space to get a look at what he was fishing for in his pockets, so he gladly accepts the photograph. he can't help but smile down at it, warmed by the magic, the sight of the gurgling baby (like little daisy squealing in his arms), and the fondness evident in lily's laughing smile. a proper, winning grin spreads across his face; the sort normally reserved for daisy doing something spectacular, or harry inviting eggsy into his life. in a way, this is james welcoming eggsy into his world. he drags his eyes to peer at james, relieved to see his delight mirrored.
but of course it fades.
despite his lack of schooling, eggsy is quick, following the explanation of the war even as he makes note of questions for later. the language itself proves so magical, it almost takes the seriousness out of the conversation. james' uncharacteristic pauses and even delivery remind him to focus. this isn't a fairy-tale, regardless of the wizards and prophecies at the center. it's about a war, even though both james and lily look so young, and a child. eggsy stares at the photo once more in dawning horror. a fucking kid.
then james confirms his conclusions. oh. his mates are from the future, in the same way eggsy is from harry's future. voldemort came for them all, but lily managed to protect their boy. only their boy. not james? did he — did she — god, he knows it isn't right or fair to think of lee unwin right now, but he does it, anyway. he thinks of a photo by his bed, the medal 'round his neck, and a dull memory of a snowglobe being taken from his hands at fucking christmas. it's shortly followed by the splatter of red on white and the sound of james shouting for him in the vr.
now, eggsy doesn't decide to touch james, but a hand finds its way to his shoulder, bracing there, moving to rub comforting circles on his back. the movement brings them side-by-side, eggsy's knees angled and knocking into the side of james' legs. he's always been more instinctual than thoughtful. maybe that'll excuse his inability to stop his stupid mouth. ]
You didn't — [ didn't die? didn't make it? he wants to confirm his hunches slot together perfectly before his eyes well up over nothing. he already blinks back tears, hoping the flutter of his lashes will serve as a final defense against the singular heartbreak that james describes from a new angle and that eggsy knows intimately from the opposite perspective. the thought of some little boy growing up without a dad, knowing the one he had was brave as hell but not invulnerable — well, that's eggsy, isn't it? his free hand brushes over the chain on his neck, james' photo still in clutched between his fingers ] Fuck. [ the hand on james tightens. shit, he releases a long exhale. his grip slackens. he sets the photograph on the table delicately, like it's a precious, breakable thing. ]
[ james is trustworthy. james is a hero. he asked for his family and friends, same as eggsy. he was willing to die to protect innocent people in the vr and in his life. that's everything eggsy needed to know. ] But you all — hey, you all made it here. [ there goes his voice again, crackling with emotion and skittering over short phrases. not now. please, not now, when he should be the strong one. he recovers, continuing softly — ] Sounds like you and Lily saved everyone.
[ his mates and each other and their son in stasis. ]
[ there’s a particular look in a person’s face when they see a photo of a child and genuinely are happy, or are faking it. james is hit, almost instantly, with a familiar kind of fondness in eggsy’s eyes. part of him almost wonders if eggsy has a kid of his own, but james doesn’t think so. maybe a sibling - he’d mentioned his sister, hadn’t he? not that it matters, truly, because james sees the photo, sees lily and harry staring back at him, and it hurts, really and truly hurts, because he looks at the photo and thinks about not being able to save them. about lily being home and hearing him die. about harry, growing up with his parents, without knowing just how unending and overflowing their love is for him, right now, just in this moment.
james should have been more descriptive. james should have explained the scenario better, gone into more detail. the long history of muggle versus wizard tensions and muggleborns and the way children are being treated with it. he could explain dumbledore, grindelwald, voldemort, but he doesn’t. he can’t. he does open his mouth again, tries to add something new, but it all falls flat somewhere in the back of his throat. it’s not choking up, necessarily, but reaching into a bag and finding nothing there. and maybe that’s the worst of it - because it’s nothing. there are no explosions, no ice, no brief, shaking memories of the vr. there, he died. and then didn’t - as was the case with not-real reality.
but for home? he thought he fixed it. he thought he saved them. as far as he knew, he’d made the decision before it happened, before voldemort had found them. it had been a sudden spike of pride, knowing that he’d done it. he actually, really done it, no matter how ridiculous or crazy or impossible this could all seem.
then he’d seen lily. and sirius, and remus. he’d seen the way they looked at them. had seen the expression on lily’s face. he has no memory of what happened, but he knows something did, just from lily. just the way she’s refused to let him walk away. it tears away at the inside of his chest, thinking about their son, harry, alone. and that’s what has the heat behind his eyes breaking over, which pushes him to press his palms to his eyes. he didn’t mean to cry, he doesn’t want to cry, but he knows it’s happening. eggsy’s hand at his back is a comfort, an ease, and he appreciate sit. ]
Didn’t what? Die? [ his words are tight, caught somewhere between his ribcage. he feels the tightness behind his eyes and he tries to laugh again, tries to just shove whatever is caught in his throat out again. but he feels the next breath shake, despite the effort to hold it still.
when james speaks, it’s soft. not quite a whisper, but not quite as confident as he’s been, either. ] You didn’t see their faces. It was like they saw a ghost.
[ the following moments are heavy, and james pushes himself through it. through the heavy weight of what he hasn’t let himself think about, through the collection of what’s happened and what it means. of the implications and what has been said. he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it, because the only reason he agreed to this was to stop that from happening. but how? why? what happened?
that’s when eggsy’s voice breaks in, when his hand grips the back of his shirt, and james’ inhale is sharp as he sits back up, wiping away at his face with his hands. ] Hell, that was more than I meant. I’m sorry, mate. That- [ despite the change in tone, there are still some hints of the earlier breakdown. but whereas before it had overwhelmed james, james is controlling it, now. controlling what is happening, despite the fact his eyes are definitely red. honestly, it’s in spite of the red that james grins back over to eggsy, his face blotchy. when he does turn, he sees the way eggsy’s eyes have started to water himself, and he’s struck with that same sense of camaraderie again. it’s rather impressive, in a way, how they’ve each found each other in opposite situations. he sees the emotion behind his eyes, sees that he’s having his own response in light of it, and james feels immediately responsible. ]
Dunno about everyone. My mates got here on their own making deals, my wife got here doing it too, but as long as I can find my son out there? [ his eyes glance back to the door, towards the pods, towards the search and finding nothing. but with tears still wet on his cheeks, james can hold that bit in. ] And if your mentor’s here? And your mum and sister? It’s not all hopeless.
[ james watches eggsy for a second before his gut acts before his head can follow, both of his hands reaching out to settle on each of eggsy’s shoulders. just to catch his eyes, just to get eggsy to really look at him, and then james feels himself break into a grin. ] Look at us. Brought up to a space ship and saved our worlds and we’re right messes.
[ he doesn't really know if they really ought to be here, emotionally, but failing the simulation together removed all chances of avoiding intimacy. as soon as james' tears spill over, eggsy feels a rivulet slide down his cheek. oh. his training and protocol would suggest he remove himself from this situation. instead, he shifts his arm to more wrap around james, tugging him in for a hug. there are too many layers of emotion plaguing him to resist the urge. grief over his own losses (and those of james' son), solace at the dead being given a second chance (particularly someone as deserving as james), fondness over the honesty at play here that eggsy wasn't brave enough to offer harry earlier. ]
Hey. Hey. [ soothing and warm, as ever, mimicking what harry did for him today; what his mum has done every time a bruise blossomed on his skin. ] I don't mind. [ for a brief moment, he lets his head fall on james' shoulder. there's nothing like a physical anchor, smoothing out the creases of worry in his features and knots in his stomach. softly — ] And you don't feel like a ghost, besides.
[ though he knows, then, that james died. just like harry. it's only his very real presence that prevents eggsy from cycling through the whiplash of loss and regains yet again. two people he knows have died twice. what are the odds? he would laugh in shaky disbelief, if it wouldn't be so inappropriate for the fragile mood.
james pulls away, hands firm on eggsy's shoulder and again, he feels reassured. more than you should. yes, far more than he should, when james has revealed himself to be acutely vulnerable. ]
Yeah, things are already looking up, huh? [ important people appearing left and right. others saved from the end of the world and safe in stasis. he returns the grin without hesitation. ] We've got plenty of time. [ to live. ] For you to show me tricks and vice versa, I mean.
[ 'cause he does have a few up his sleeve, even if he shouldn't show-off. ]
[ it doesn't matter what it was they'd done together. they'd done enough, as far as james was concerned. history or no, eggsy was the kind of person he wanted in his circle. did he mean to come into this and end up crying? no. but with the stress and the pressure and the alcohol, he shouldn't be all that surprised. still, there is a moment there when james is trying to pull himself together and eggsy just reaches over and pulls him close, and it feels. okay. not good, not great, but okay.
his arms wrap around eggsy's back as he ends up burying his face in his shoulder, telling himself he just has to breathe. let it happen, and breathe. his hands are bunched in the back of eggsy's shirt, making a mess of the whole thing he's sure, but he doesn't focus on it too much, the comfort of an anchor and eggsy's voice working well enough. you don't feel like a ghost has him chuckling lightly, thinking about sir nick back at hogwarts, about peeves. he tightens his hold around eggsy for just a moment longer, enough to get out: ] Thank Merlin for that, right? [ before he is pulling back, apologizing, setting his hands on eggsy's shoulders. ]
I'd say so. [ and with a last squeeze of eggsy's shoulders, james pulls his hands away, resettleing back on the couch and trying his best to subtly wipe away at his face. the embarrassment of crying in front of someone settles in his gut, alongside the alcohol, and james is acutely aware of just how drunk he is. ]
Dunno what teaching you tricks will do, mate. But I can try. [ and james smiles, lets the smile fade into another laugh, thinking about showing eggsy more tricks. more spells. more charms. what lily would say, or sirius. merlin he wants to introduce eggsy to sirius. but not...tonight. later. sometime later. just like eggsy said - we've got plenty of time. ]
[ thank merlin. ha. it still amuses him. thank merlin, who would tell eggsy to stop crying and stay strong just as easily as he'd reassure eggsy that harry would be proud. god, eggsy misses him, too.
he eases away from james, returning the light laughter all the while. he feels light-headed, his thoughts smudgy at the edges. perhaps he is drunk. after all the emotions and booze, his words drift out lazier than before. despite the haze of alcohol, eggsy forgoes the obvious (yet forbidden) answers available to him. could teach you to flip a man twice your size with one-hand. could show you an umbrella that fires bullets or the poisoned blades in my posh-as-shit oxfords. he can't share those tricks, not with anyone who isn't (or wasn't, his mind supplies unhelpfully) a kingsman. ]
You ever been freerunning? [ a wistful sigh. he longs for his city, uneven and sprawling, with all sorts of nooks for him to enjoy. he thinks of vaulting the stairs at waterloo and swinging around the tight turns at boxcat. even jumping down from his council estate to escape dean's thugs delights him now. after a moment, he offers james a sideways smile, mischief glittering in his eyes. ] Or thieved a motor from a fucking dickhead — and done figure-eights forwards and backwards so fast the carriage feels like it'll split?
[ an excellent memory springs forward: endless donuts in an abandoned car park that left poodle's halfway-to-shit tires smoking from the friction. ]
[ james is definitely drunk, a fact he accepted well enough into this. the crying didn't help, and then the abrupt shift in emotion only adds to that heavy feeling in his head, the slow glow around the edges of his eyes. it's definitely not bad, a haze james knows well and true and how to function in, but he does feel that tiredness start to creep in.
lily is back in their room, probably asleep, and that thought alone eases his mind.
then there's the question, and that feeling james has that eggsy is hiding his first, initial answers. the feeling that there is so much more under eggsy's skin than he's letting on, and the curiosity eats at him. but james tucks it away, never being one to push for things like that, and instead making a show of thinking about it. ] Thieving motors, yeah. Got chased down for it too. But I can't say much for the others- we tend to keep to brooms and apparating for transport.
[ yes. brooms. oh how he misses his broomstick.
but he can't deny his initial interest in what exactly eggsy meant with all that. he'd never bothered to learn how to drive, not really, but the idea had always intrigued him. ] But it sounds like my kind of lesson. I'm up for it if you are?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
he lets it slide for now, instead turning to his own story. letting his words curl out in casual conversation. he does know that from their history - knowing each other for little over a day or so - they most likely shouldn't be diving directly into all of this. it's heavy, it's difficult, it's death and dying and the destruction of worlds, and despite the way his head nearly spins when he turns it, james wonders if he should try for another shot. just for something to do, just for something for his hands. but he doesn't, the lurch in his stomach reminding him that he hasn't eaten nearly enough for any more of an intense night ahead, and he exhales - sounding something closer to a laugh, or maybe just a puff of air, lighter and only a little self-deprecating. ]
I do. [ he knows there is a bit of the surprise there, a question about how young he is and how he's got a family and james wants to talk about it. more than anything, he wants to talk about lily, about hogwarts, about late nights in the gryffindor dorm room keeping up sirius and remus and peter with how amazing and wonderful she is and how she definitely looked at me today in potions, mate. i'm telling you. about the first time he held harry, the first time harry laughed, the way lily looked seeing their son for the first time.
james opens his mouth to start, but then realizes he can't quite find the words. so after a few attempts - open mouth, closed smile, open mouth, laugh - he just shifts, reaching down to pull out his wallet from the back of his pocket, and then a single photo from out of there, of the two of them - lily and harry - laughing at something ridiculous he's probably doing. there is a second's hesitation before he hands it over to eggsy, lily's moving frame waving to the screen as she looks down to harry, trying to get his tiny little arms to do the same. james' smile is fond, in the only way a father's can, but the weightlessness of the look dims at the question.
he thinks about the drink again, and again decides against it, his eyes watching the moving photo a bit distractedly as he begins to speak. his voice is hollow, despite his best efforts, but not pained. not really. ] Back home we're all dealing with this war. Some witches and wizards think there's some kind of 'blood purity' to being able to use magic. It's all a fucking mess, really- [ there is something dark hidden under james' voice, a hatred for what is happening. but when he cuts himself off, he finds himself sighing, his own hand moving to card his fingers through his own hair. ] But they're all behind this one dark one. Voldemort. [ he keeps pressing, not quite letting himself get caught up on each thought that comes to mind. ] There was a prophecy, that a child would be born powerful enough to destroy him...
[ except that even now, james can't quite bring himself to say it. we went into hiding, we had to protect him, we couldn't let them get to harry. in the photo, baby harry is just an infant, not even a year old. lily looks so happy holding him, harry looks so young. and then, in unison, he feels like he thinks about all of it at the same time. thirteen years old and he's brilliant and voldemort came to godric's hollow. it moves by in flashes, a bit like lightning, and a few moments later james blinks, a pressure building behind his eyes.
except that won't do, will it? and james sits up a little straighter, inhaling a quick breath and pulling himself together. ]
My mates are from the future. Thirteen years after the night I apparently made the pact to be here, after Voldemort apparently showed up at our home for my son and my wife and I- well, my wife destroyed the wanker to protect our son. Who- [ his hand motions vaguely towards the photo. ] Is, apparently, thirteen now.
[ the moments following are heavy, and james immediately feels himself starting to regret saying anything at all, but with that wave of guilt and anger and hopelessness comes a bubble of something else. something effervescent and unwilling to be contained. james leans forward, running his hands over his face, as he reminds himself to breathe. breathe, breathe, and then james laughs. ]
See what I meant about fucked?
no subject
but of course it fades.
despite his lack of schooling, eggsy is quick, following the explanation of the war even as he makes note of questions for later. the language itself proves so magical, it almost takes the seriousness out of the conversation. james' uncharacteristic pauses and even delivery remind him to focus. this isn't a fairy-tale, regardless of the wizards and prophecies at the center. it's about a war, even though both james and lily look so young, and a child. eggsy stares at the photo once more in dawning horror. a fucking kid.
then james confirms his conclusions. oh. his mates are from the future, in the same way eggsy is from harry's future. voldemort came for them all, but lily managed to protect their boy. only their boy. not james? did he — did she — god, he knows it isn't right or fair to think of lee unwin right now, but he does it, anyway. he thinks of a photo by his bed, the medal 'round his neck, and a dull memory of a snowglobe being taken from his hands at fucking christmas. it's shortly followed by the splatter of red on white and the sound of james shouting for him in the vr.
now, eggsy doesn't decide to touch james, but a hand finds its way to his shoulder, bracing there, moving to rub comforting circles on his back. the movement brings them side-by-side, eggsy's knees angled and knocking into the side of james' legs. he's always been more instinctual than thoughtful. maybe that'll excuse his inability to stop his stupid mouth. ]
You didn't — [ didn't die? didn't make it? he wants to confirm his hunches slot together perfectly before his eyes well up over nothing. he already blinks back tears, hoping the flutter of his lashes will serve as a final defense against the singular heartbreak that james describes from a new angle and that eggsy knows intimately from the opposite perspective. the thought of some little boy growing up without a dad, knowing the one he had was brave as hell but not invulnerable — well, that's eggsy, isn't it? his free hand brushes over the chain on his neck, james' photo still in clutched between his fingers ] Fuck. [ the hand on james tightens. shit, he releases a long exhale. his grip slackens. he sets the photograph on the table delicately, like it's a precious, breakable thing. ]
[ james is trustworthy. james is a hero. he asked for his family and friends, same as eggsy. he was willing to die to protect innocent people in the vr and in his life. that's everything eggsy needed to know. ] But you all — hey, you all made it here. [ there goes his voice again, crackling with emotion and skittering over short phrases. not now. please, not now, when he should be the strong one. he recovers, continuing softly — ] Sounds like you and Lily saved everyone.
[ his mates and each other and their son in stasis. ]
no subject
james should have been more descriptive. james should have explained the scenario better, gone into more detail. the long history of muggle versus wizard tensions and muggleborns and the way children are being treated with it. he could explain dumbledore, grindelwald, voldemort, but he doesn’t. he can’t. he does open his mouth again, tries to add something new, but it all falls flat somewhere in the back of his throat. it’s not choking up, necessarily, but reaching into a bag and finding nothing there. and maybe that’s the worst of it - because it’s nothing. there are no explosions, no ice, no brief, shaking memories of the vr. there, he died. and then didn’t - as was the case with not-real reality.
but for home? he thought he fixed it. he thought he saved them. as far as he knew, he’d made the decision before it happened, before voldemort had found them. it had been a sudden spike of pride, knowing that he’d done it. he actually, really done it, no matter how ridiculous or crazy or impossible this could all seem.
then he’d seen lily. and sirius, and remus. he’d seen the way they looked at them. had seen the expression on lily’s face. he has no memory of what happened, but he knows something did, just from lily. just the way she’s refused to let him walk away. it tears away at the inside of his chest, thinking about their son, harry, alone. and that’s what has the heat behind his eyes breaking over, which pushes him to press his palms to his eyes. he didn’t mean to cry, he doesn’t want to cry, but he knows it’s happening. eggsy’s hand at his back is a comfort, an ease, and he appreciate sit. ]
Didn’t what? Die? [ his words are tight, caught somewhere between his ribcage. he feels the tightness behind his eyes and he tries to laugh again, tries to just shove whatever is caught in his throat out again. but he feels the next breath shake, despite the effort to hold it still.
when james speaks, it’s soft. not quite a whisper, but not quite as confident as he’s been, either. ] You didn’t see their faces. It was like they saw a ghost.
[ the following moments are heavy, and james pushes himself through it. through the heavy weight of what he hasn’t let himself think about, through the collection of what’s happened and what it means. of the implications and what has been said. he doesn’t get it, he doesn’t get it, because the only reason he agreed to this was to stop that from happening. but how? why? what happened?
that’s when eggsy’s voice breaks in, when his hand grips the back of his shirt, and james’ inhale is sharp as he sits back up, wiping away at his face with his hands. ] Hell, that was more than I meant. I’m sorry, mate. That- [ despite the change in tone, there are still some hints of the earlier breakdown. but whereas before it had overwhelmed james, james is controlling it, now. controlling what is happening, despite the fact his eyes are definitely red. honestly, it’s in spite of the red that james grins back over to eggsy, his face blotchy. when he does turn, he sees the way eggsy’s eyes have started to water himself, and he’s struck with that same sense of camaraderie again. it’s rather impressive, in a way, how they’ve each found each other in opposite situations. he sees the emotion behind his eyes, sees that he’s having his own response in light of it, and james feels immediately responsible. ]
Dunno about everyone. My mates got here on their own making deals, my wife got here doing it too, but as long as I can find my son out there? [ his eyes glance back to the door, towards the pods, towards the search and finding nothing. but with tears still wet on his cheeks, james can hold that bit in. ] And if your mentor’s here? And your mum and sister? It’s not all hopeless.
[ james watches eggsy for a second before his gut acts before his head can follow, both of his hands reaching out to settle on each of eggsy’s shoulders. just to catch his eyes, just to get eggsy to really look at him, and then james feels himself break into a grin. ] Look at us. Brought up to a space ship and saved our worlds and we’re right messes.
sorry for the delay!!
Hey. Hey. [ soothing and warm, as ever, mimicking what harry did for him today; what his mum has done every time a bruise blossomed on his skin. ] I don't mind. [ for a brief moment, he lets his head fall on james' shoulder. there's nothing like a physical anchor, smoothing out the creases of worry in his features and knots in his stomach. softly — ] And you don't feel like a ghost, besides.
[ though he knows, then, that james died. just like harry. it's only his very real presence that prevents eggsy from cycling through the whiplash of loss and regains yet again. two people he knows have died twice. what are the odds? he would laugh in shaky disbelief, if it wouldn't be so inappropriate for the fragile mood.
james pulls away, hands firm on eggsy's shoulder and again, he feels reassured. more than you should. yes, far more than he should, when james has revealed himself to be acutely vulnerable. ]
Yeah, things are already looking up, huh? [ important people appearing left and right. others saved from the end of the world and safe in stasis. he returns the grin without hesitation. ] We've got plenty of time. [ to live. ] For you to show me tricks and vice versa, I mean.
[ 'cause he does have a few up his sleeve, even if he shouldn't show-off. ]
don't ever be sorry it is all good c:
his arms wrap around eggsy's back as he ends up burying his face in his shoulder, telling himself he just has to breathe. let it happen, and breathe. his hands are bunched in the back of eggsy's shirt, making a mess of the whole thing he's sure, but he doesn't focus on it too much, the comfort of an anchor and eggsy's voice working well enough. you don't feel like a ghost has him chuckling lightly, thinking about sir nick back at hogwarts, about peeves. he tightens his hold around eggsy for just a moment longer, enough to get out: ] Thank Merlin for that, right? [ before he is pulling back, apologizing, setting his hands on eggsy's shoulders. ]
I'd say so. [ and with a last squeeze of eggsy's shoulders, james pulls his hands away, resettleing back on the couch and trying his best to subtly wipe away at his face. the embarrassment of crying in front of someone settles in his gut, alongside the alcohol, and james is acutely aware of just how drunk he is. ]
Dunno what teaching you tricks will do, mate. But I can try. [ and james smiles, lets the smile fade into another laugh, thinking about showing eggsy more tricks. more spells. more charms. what lily would say, or sirius. merlin he wants to introduce eggsy to sirius. but not...tonight. later. sometime later. just like eggsy said - we've got plenty of time. ]
What's it you're going to teach me, then?
<3
he eases away from james, returning the light laughter all the while. he feels light-headed, his thoughts smudgy at the edges. perhaps he is drunk. after all the emotions and booze, his words drift out lazier than before. despite the haze of alcohol, eggsy forgoes the obvious (yet forbidden) answers available to him. could teach you to flip a man twice your size with one-hand. could show you an umbrella that fires bullets or the poisoned blades in my posh-as-shit oxfords. he can't share those tricks, not with anyone who isn't (or wasn't, his mind supplies unhelpfully) a kingsman. ]
You ever been freerunning? [ a wistful sigh. he longs for his city, uneven and sprawling, with all sorts of nooks for him to enjoy. he thinks of vaulting the stairs at waterloo and swinging around the tight turns at boxcat. even jumping down from his council estate to escape dean's thugs delights him now. after a moment, he offers james a sideways smile, mischief glittering in his eyes. ] Or thieved a motor from a fucking dickhead — and done figure-eights forwards and backwards so fast the carriage feels like it'll split?
[ an excellent memory springs forward: endless donuts in an abandoned car park that left poodle's halfway-to-shit tires smoking from the friction. ]
no subject
lily is back in their room, probably asleep, and that thought alone eases his mind.
then there's the question, and that feeling james has that eggsy is hiding his first, initial answers. the feeling that there is so much more under eggsy's skin than he's letting on, and the curiosity eats at him. but james tucks it away, never being one to push for things like that, and instead making a show of thinking about it. ] Thieving motors, yeah. Got chased down for it too. But I can't say much for the others- we tend to keep to brooms and apparating for transport.
[ yes. brooms. oh how he misses his broomstick.
but he can't deny his initial interest in what exactly eggsy meant with all that. he'd never bothered to learn how to drive, not really, but the idea had always intrigued him. ] But it sounds like my kind of lesson. I'm up for it if you are?