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He’d honestly never intended to say it out loud. He’d tried to resist the idea, at first. Surely it was disrespectful, to look at the son of the man who died saving his life and think ‘that’s my boy.’ The first few times he’d been able to convince himself that he meant it in a generic way; he was Eggsy’s mentor, after all. There should be pride at seeing a job well done, especially by his protégé.
Except, that’s not quite true. He looks at Eggsy and doesn’t think ‘this is my trainee’ or ‘what a fine job my protégé has done,’ no, when Harry looks at Eggsy all he can think of is ‘that’s my son.’ He knows it’s not right, not gentlemanly to try and force himself into the role of Eggsys father when the boy has no need for one, so he sits back and tries to content himself with being Eggsys mentor.
The first time it slips out is, thankfully, not in front of Eggsy. He’s with Merlin at headquarters, watching the tense situation through a split screen, the feed coming from both Eggsy and Gwaines glasses. Harry, still awkwardly settling into his position as the new Arthur, is unreasonably tense watching his so-protégé, watching his protégé. It’s not a particularly dangerous mission for the two agents, not with their level of training, but he finds he’s on the edge of his seat anyway.
This is his first time seeing Eggsy on a mission, having been in surgery in a hospital in Kentucky whilst Merlin, Eggsy and Roxy had thwarted Valentine, and they always say watching your child do something potentially dangerous for the first time is nerve racking. Except Eggsy is not his child, and he’s a horrible person for wanting to be able to be able to call Eggsy his son when the young man already has a father (albeit deceased) and a step-father (albeit an abusive prick).
He’s talking to Merlin, who’s completely relaxed as is normal for this sort of run of the mill mission, and is so busy berating himself mentally for thinking of Eggsy as his son that he doesn’t even realise that it’s slipped out until Merlin blinks, once, the only sign of his shock.
“Well,” Merlin starts, slight brogue thickening as a smile starts to slide over his face.
“Don’t start, Melin. I’ve got it under control.” Harry interrupts him, which only causes the smile to turn into a smirk, along with a slight chuckle.
“Of course.” Merlin had been the one to caution him, after all, that he was too emotionally invested in Eggsy, and Harry had acknowledged his concerns but dismissed them as unfounded. Now, however, they can both see that Harry had been deluding himself and Merlin had been right, and Merlin does so love to be right.
Harrys determined that it will be the only time he calls Eggsy ‘son’ out loud.
Harry is, of course, deluding himself again.
-
Tense situations have a way of heightening emotions, bringing things to the surface which should never see the light of day. Harry knows this, Merlin is still smug about being able to say ‘I told you so’ in regards to being too emotionally involved with Eggsy, even if he never said it out loud. So Harry made sure he had a strict control of himself whenever he oversaw a mission with Galahad, made sure the damning word never slipped past his lips. And that was that.
A few months after accidentally letting it slip, Gwaine decided to retire after a near miss.
“I’m one of the oldest, now. Time to let some more new blood in.” He’d smiled at Eggsy, winking in a salacious manner that had the blond laughing. “And my wife’d kill me if I missed out on the birth of our grandchild.” And so, the trials for Gwaines replacement started, and Galahad brought in his candidate before he was whisked off to Ankara for a quick mission.
“Your son’s doing well.” Merlin said quietly when he’d come in to observe the candidates, giving Harry a quick update on the Ankara mission. He shoots Merlin a disapproving look, not that it’s ever been effective in the past. Merlin doesn’t even bother to smirk, just smiles genially, and Harry grumbles his correction.
“Galahad,” he stresses, “always does well.” And if there’s a bit of parental pride in his voice as he says it, well, no one’s listening to their conversation, too focused on trying to complete their task. Harry was rather hoping that Merlin, having gotten that jab in, would cease to call Eggsy his son. Merlin continues, proving once again that though Harrys glare could force a terrorist to spill their secrets, Merlin was a class apart and thoroughly immune after twenty odd years.
(Jules, Eggsys candidate, happens to be sitting close to where Merlin and Arthur are standing at the front of the room. He blinks when he hears ‘son,’ having been absent-mindedly eavesdropping as he’d been reading through the file, turning his whole attention to the conversation at the mention of ‘Galahad.’
He looks over at the older man standing in a crisp suit, square framed glasses and umbrella almost identical to the ones Galahad carries, and has a quiet ‘ah’ moment. Because, thinking about it, though not overly similar in appearance, from the brief times he’s seen Arthur and the time he’s spent with Galahad, their mannerisms are remarkably similar. Even the way they walk is almost the same.
So the only thing Jules takes away from the conversation, with the odd stress on ‘Galahad’, is that code names are essential whilst working, regardless of the level of familiarity between agents. That Arthur and Galahad are father and son, he quietly slots into his world view and then carries on with the task.)
-
Harry had kept a tight hold of himself during tense situations since his… situation had escalated to a verbal level. He was in control of it, and there needn't be any mention of it again. Unfortunately, but not unsurprisingly, Merlin had continued to refer to Eggsy as his son when Eggsy was not around. Completely unfortunately, but also unsurprisingly, he didn’t care if anyone else overheard, like the entire table when they were waiting for Eggsy to show up.
“Your son’s late.” Merlin said dryly and Roxy, the only agent physically in the room, raised an eyebrow but held her tongue. Bedevere, for all that he was only visible through the glasses, did not.
“Takes after you then, Arthur.” He chortled, and Harry had never quite understood the previous Arthurs exasperation until right now, faced with a table of deadly spies and assassins who were giggling madly. Roxy was the only composed one of the lot, but even she was smiling. Had she known Harry for longer, and his propensity for being late (which he’d tried to cut down on, now he was Arthur, though not entirely successful), she may have even grinned at him. The new Gwaine giggled along with everyone else, though he’d only had to suffer through Harrys unfortunately habit of lateness a handful of times since he’d joined; perhaps he was more amused at the tardiness of his sponsor?
Roxy did grin at Eggsy, when he walked into the room a few minutes later, and Harry had to stop himself from rubbing his eyes at she sheer amusement radiating off all his agents bar Eggsy. Thankfully, they all had enough tact not to mention anything in front of Eggsy and they got on with their debrief.
-
When it finally - eventually, Merlin would have said - slid out in front of Eggsy, they were standing in front of an amalgamation of new recruits (Bors was the most recent fatality), along with Merlin, Gwaine and Bedevere. The recruits, five of them, having gone through a few tests already, were standing at attention, while Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine and Bedevere waited on Eggsy to arrive as their last examiner. The spent their time waiting staring at the potential Kingsmen, seeing if it would unnerve any of them, and becoming pleasantly surprised when only a few shifted in place.
Eggsy walked up a few minutes later, inclining his head in apology for his tardiness. Harry, in a decidedly un-tense atmosphere and, in fact, quite jovial, turned to him with a,
“There you are, son, would you like to instruct?” He got to the end of his sentence before his brain caught up with his tongue, still traitorously lingering on thoughts of which of the potential candidates would succeed instead of guarding his words. Eggsy didn't seem phased though, and none of the Kingsmen present mentioned it, though Bedevere smiled and Merlin took on that distinctly smug air he got when right. Harry was just relieved that Eggsy wasn’t appalled at his slip of the tongue, and instead smiled and nodded, setting out the instructions for the candidates.
-
It really shouldn’t have surprised him that the Kingsmen, with the apparent ‘permission’ that was Harrys cock up in calling Eggsy ‘son’ to his face, took it and ran with it. He’s patched in to the comms from the car he’s taking to the shop just in time to hear Kay say ‘your dad’s on the line, Galahad.’ There’s the shuffling of glasses being put on, Eggsy saying ‘ta’ before they resume the debrief.
Harry firmly doesn’t think about the fact that Eggsy didn’t correct Kay. He was probably being professional, continuing with the briefing. The rest of his agents really should follow his example, should know better.
-
As it turns out, Gwaine and Bors don’t actually know better, new as they are. They assume that Eggsy really is his son. He’s reluctant to correct them, sure someone else - Eggsy, perhaps - will inform them. When no one does, Harry decides it’s not really that important, especially since everyone had backed off a bit, no longer constantly referring to them as father and son.
(And if it had moved from a joke the agents had enjoyed for a time to casually referring to them as father and son, as if it were real, Harry certainly didn’t notice.
Certainly didn’t warm his heart, either.)
-
Harry doesn’t even know that it’s anything other than a usual day until he gets home and hears someone shuffling around in the kitchen. He’s slipping his gun out when JB comes trotting around the corner, and Harry relaxes. Just Eggsy, then, though what he’s doing in Harrys house is a mystery. He pets JB before going about his usual after work routine, unholstering his weapons, unloading, hanging his jacket correctly until he’s just in his shirt sleeves, only a knife or two on his person for protection.
He walks into the kitchen just as Eggsy is plating up, grinning over the counter as Harry starts to prepare tea with the just boiled water. Eggsy must have flicked the kettle on when he’d heard him come in.
“What’s all this?” Harry asks as Eggsy moves the plates to the table, stirring in the abominable amount of sugar the Eggsy prefers. His son, no, Eggsy laughs, grabbing cutlery to accompany the plates and waiting until Harry’s brought the tea over to pull out a small… present? Harry raises an eyebrow, certain that it’s neither his birthday or an important anniversary. Eggsy just shakes the present a bit, encouraging him to take it. It rattles slightly, as Harry gently unwraps it.
Inside there’s a box with cufflinks and a mug, with a childrens book character on it. He appreciates the cufflinks properly before turning to the mug with a slightly bemused expression on his face.
“Mr. Strong?” He inquires, and Eggsy shuffles his feet a bit, looking nervous and shifting his gaze, looking at the set table as if he wishes he were eating instead of having the conversation next to the table. Finally he looks back at Harry.
“Yeah. That’s what you get, innit?” He asks, slipping back into the Estuary accent he prefers when not on the job. He makes an abortive movement that may have been a nervous shuffle before clarifying.
“It’s what you get your dad, for fathers day.” Harry doesn’t have anything to say to that, and Eggsy grows more and more nervous with the silence, finally breaking it with a muttered,
“Nevermind. Stupid idea.” Harry carefully places the mug down on the table, along with the cufflinks, before stepping forward and carefully drawing a stiff Eggsy into a hug.
“I think it’s rather the most wonderful idea, Eggsy.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes… son.” Eggsy, his son, relaxes into the hug, grins so much for the rest of the night Harrys' sure his cheeks must hurt, because Harrys sure do, but he wouldn't stop smiling for the Queen herself, at this moment. Harry feels elated and, when they sit down for dinner, doesn’t even think of the impropriety when he, very carefully, pours his tea out of the fine noritake china and into the comparatively monstrous red and white cup.