[ 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?
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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?