ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU where Harry Hart is a high-profile person—some hotshot politician, a member of the nobility, Justice of the High Court, take your pick—who is perfectly aware of the fact that there are many people out for his blood. Have been for years. So he shouldn’t be surprised, really, when it turns out that the beautiful boy he’s been screwing turns out to have been a plant, a pawn, someone sent in to collect blackmail material on him.
He isn’t. Surprised, that is.
Eggsy looks convincingly torn up about it, brow furrowed into that little frown Harry’d once smoothed away with the pad of his thumb after sex. “What’s wrong?” he’d asked, and Eggsy had shrugged and said, “Nothing,” and Harry hadn’t pressed for an answer. Now Eggsy is standing there with his hands balled to fists by his sides and his eyes big and wet and earnest, and Harry’s picking up on fragments of phrases like my stepdad and no choice and never meant to hurt but none of it matters. What matters is that there are photos; photos of Harry Hart bending a boy half his age over his office desk, of him pinning that same boy against a hotel room wall, of him kneeling on his own bloody kitchen floor with his eyes half-closed and the boy’s cock down his throat. Those photos exist, and they will soon be out there because Harry Hart does not bend to extortion, thank you very much.
So he calls Merlin, his spokesperson and legal counsel, who summons their media team, and it is determined that the best way to deal with this crisis is marriage (OBVIOUSLY).