perf cy

anonymous asked:

Prompt: Lancelot's proposal to Percival happened a lot like Will and Elizabeth's wedding in At World's End.

Lol, literally only saw the first POTC movie once. I hope I captured the essence of what you wanted. 


If he was being completely honest with himself, and Percival made it a point to always be honest with himself, marrying James was sort of a foregone conclusion.

They had started as a bit of a whirlwind romance mere months after Percival joined the ranks of the Kingsman agents, and were now seven years into a steady, monogamous relationship. It was strange only in the fact that their job rarely left any room for a life partner, but if said partner was another agent then there was no lying, no sneaking about; only “I’m off to Barcelona tomorrow, try not to get shot while I’m gone.”

It was comfortable and gratifying, and Percival supposed that it helped that James was the love of his life. A bloody trigger happy dolt with a love of pastels, but the only man Percival would ever consider spending the rest of his life with.

Still, when Lancelot’s voice crackled over their comm-link saying, “Percival, marry me!”—Percival’s first response was:

“I don’t think this is the best time.”

James laughed, but the sound was lost in the sound of gunfire and splintering wood. He could laugh all he wanted, but Percival knew his point was valid. After all, they were on opposite sides of a warehouse fighting a seemingly unending barrage of terrorist with a terribly finite number of bullets. It was moments like these, Percival mused, that he really thought about his own mortality.

“Percival,” James said almost too quietly to hear, “This may be the only time.”

Someone, possibly James, threw a fucking grenade and the ensuing explosion caused a ringing in Percival’s ears.

He snarled and leaned low so he could shoot someone in the kneecap. If he had permanent hearing damage someone was going to burn for it. Lancelot loved to put on old vinyl records and insist the sound quality was better. Sometimes he’d even make Percival dance with him in the living room of their shared flat.

Sometimes he’d wake Percival up with donuts clearly bought from down the street and insist he’d made them.

Sometimes he’d called Percival “Percy” and have to dodge a pillow. Sometimes he’d mix it up and call him “Perf-cy.”

Percival swallowed a lump in his throat. “Merlin.”

[“The extraction team is five minutes away. Just try and hold out.”]

“No, not that.” Percival checked the chamber of his gun, four bullets left and another round in his jacket pocket. “Marry us.”

James laughed and Percival could hear him over the comm and echoing off the walls. His heart clenched at the thought that they might actually die right there.

[“Aren’t you a little busy at the moment?”]

“Never too busy for love, Merlin,” James drawled. “Percy, do you think you could reach the West corner?”

Percival peeked out from his hiding spot. Men were sparse in that direction. “I think so.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

The gunshots picked up again as Percival dashed out from behind the large crate that protected him kneed a man in the gut. He shot him once in the head, then had to duck out of sight when three others spotted him.

Merlin seemed to catch on to their plan, and he said with a small amount of awkwardness. [“Dearly beloved, we’re gathered here today?”]

James laughed again, and Percival couldn’t help but smile.

He saw a gun barrel before he saw the person holding it. He jumped up, high to get the man’s head between his thighs so he could twist sharply and break the man’s neck.

“Percival,” James shouted, because someone brought out a semi-automatic machine gun. “Do you take me to be your husband?”

“Yes.” Percival rolled his eyes as James cheered loudly. Honestly, the man had so little subtlety. “Do you take me to be your husband, in sickness and in health—” A bullet grazed his arm and Percival whirled around to fire off two bullets in the chest and stomach of a tall woman. “—Health being the less likely.”

James’ chuckle was warm and grounding. “I do.”

[“As Magician I pronounce you married.”]

Percival slid between a giant man’s legs and shot him in the back of the neck. He jumped up and sprinted the last few feet to the corner where James was waiting.

[“You may kiss.”]

James grabbed him and pressed a short, but knee melting kiss to Percival’s lips. Buggering, fucking Hell, Percival loved this man.

The extraction team, Bors and Kay, arrived at that moment with a bazooka. James would later call his and Percival’s first kiss as a married couple ‘explosive.’