how i wish i could go back in time and see him play higgins

Wherever You Are Is The Place I Belong [Narry] 4/?

Summary: (part three) Niall and Harry get a little help, and everything goes right this time. 

A couple days later and Niall is in gym class, finally feeling like he’s shaken off the bad feelings from the past few days and grateful for the good distraction of burning muscles and a shirt stuck to his back with sweat. They’re in the middle of a pretty intense footie game, when Niall accidentally collides with a player on the opposite team and they both go down, to some extent.

Niall gets up but the other guy, an omega named Josh Niall recognizes from his Literature and Comprehension class, he stays on the ground, curling up and clutching at his stomach.

“Shit, are you okay?” Niall asks, crouching down and putting a hand to Josh’s shoulder. Josh groans weakly and rocks back and forth, and so Niall lifts his hand to flag down the teacher. Mr. Higgins blows his whistle and Niall winces. At the shrillness of the sound, nothing else.

“Devine!” Mr. Higgins says, running over and moving Niall out of the way so he can crouch beside Josh instead. “What’s wrong?”

“Hurts,” Josh finally groans, covering his eyes like he’s trying to hide his tears.

“It hurts like five minutes on the bench or,” Mr. Higgins trails off, looking around at the growing crowd like he isn’t quite sure what to do, and, great, that’s exactly what they need.

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For @keepthenecklacethatigavetoyou, whose birthday was on Wednesday, but alas, this fic went from three pages to nearly twelve on Microsoft Word. I hope you forgive my tardiness ;) Introducing some hartwin smut and praise kink!

The lawn is strung with fairy lights, glittering in the trees and shimmering off of champagne glasses in people’s ring-laced hands and on pristine white tablecloth that seems to go on for miles. Women in sleek evening gowns and men in impeccably tailored suits shake hands and make small talk, laughing at old stories from the past. The high walls of Eton loom over it all, and as soon Harry and Eggsy get their name tags from a bored-looking boy—a prefect who drew the short straw, Harry had explained, with a wry smirk—Eggsy says, “I’m going home.”

Harry’s grip on his elbow stops him before he can head back to the cab. “Nonsense, we haven’t even tasted the bacon-wrapped scallops.”

“I can’t do this,” Eggsy protests under his breath. “I expected a school reunion to be in some cramped, smelly gym. Not—not—” He winces, taking in the sheer oozing of posh in one place. Eggsy’s dolled up in cologne and pomade and a tuxedo with dark green lapels that Harry proclaimed brought out his eyes. “Harry, I—”

“Harry!” an older man, dark hair peppered with silver, calls, waving with his free right hand. The other, Eggsy notices, is holding a small silver tray littered with the bacon-wrapped scallops Harry had mentioned earlier. “Is that you? God, you’ve aged well!”

“I can say the same for you,” Harry smiles, and to Eggsy’s surprise, embraces him, clapping one hand twice on his back before pulling away. Clutched in between his fingers is a single scallop, and Harry pops it in his mouth whole before saying, “Best-looking in our year—except for me, of course.”

The man roars with laughter. “Oh, you flatter me. Haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Swore I never would, and I remember us signing that pledge with George and a ridiculously large bottle of scotch from the kitchens.” Harry looks around the lawn. “Where’s George, by the way? I’d like to see him.”

“Oh, George…” The bloke then sighs. “It was awful, Harry, he was trapped in an elevator with two other men on V-Day—“ He bit his lip. “He never stood a chance, I guess. But if you don’t mind me asking…what happened to your eye?”

Harry’s smile becomes stiffer, and Eggsy squeezes his arm in solidarity. “V-Day.”

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” the other man says, looking truly apologetic. “I shouldn’t have asked.” He then rapidly changes the subject: “What I should have asked is who this young arm on your arm is.”

“Ah, yes,” Harry says proudly, voice brightening. “This is my partner, Eggsy. Eggsy, meet Higgins.”

“Higgins?” Eggsy asks, briefly amused, but quickly sticks out his hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

Higgins clasps his hand in his momentarily before releasing it to point accusingly at Harry. “Partner?”

“The love of my life,” Harry says, and Eggsy feels himself blush. “I met this man only two years ago and was infatuated him on sight. It took me a ridiculously long while to realize that I’d fallen arse over tits with him, but once I figured that out, we’ve had smooth sailing ever since.” He presses a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead, and Eggsy briefly preens under Harry’s attention.

Higgins whistles. “Ha-art,” he murmurs, “he’s really got you wrapped around his finger, eh? Who knew you’d be wedded and bedded, while most of us are stumbling around single?”

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