I-don't-even-know-what-I'm-doing-anymore

Harry Hart, despite the name, does not have a heart; at least according to the betting pool around HQ.

They take bets, and right now, the pool’s at about 1000 pounds. Eggsy’s the only one who bets against the stakes. Harry has a heart, and really, it makes Eggsy fecking upset when people talk about him like he’s… a robot or something.

'Cause he's not, Eggsy knows, Harry is warmth and laughter and warm fingers and cool lips, especially on those cool November nights where Eggsy sticks his hands down Harry's night trousers. Harry is soft skin, toned muscle, and his whispers flush Eggsy's skin long after the sun is up and Harry is gone.

Eggsy is all sharp lines, where Harry is soft angles.

So, of course, Harry Hart doesn’t know that the feed is running when he dips down to steal a kiss from Eggsy, and his brow furrows as Eggsy grins.

"Thanks, babe."

Later, when Harry is pointedly not speaking to Eggsy, Eggsy takes him to a nice dinner to make up for it, but to be honest, the make-up sex afterwards is worth the silent treatment.

10

L i f e is suffering.  It is hard.  The world is  c u r s e d.  But still, you find reasons to  k e e p  living.”