[ 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}
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?