bakerstreet | Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime.

Really, Tommy hasn't really dated, ever. He's busy, and he's fussy, and he has a very large family who takes up too much of his time to really consider it. He doesn't date at all, and it's been years since he's he's been with anyone he didn't meet in a bar- and longer still since he's had sex with anyone that didn't involve a bathroom door. Love is a lot of trouble, as far as he's concerned, and he's happy where he is without it.

(There was one time, a long time ago, but-- Grace is gone, now, and he can't consider her anymore.)

So that's the reason he doesn't even think of asking Eggsy out, is content for now to think of him during the long drives back, and sometimes at night. But he still almost beams when he sees Eggsy, blowing out a puff of smoke away from Eggsy.

"Afternoon, Eggsy."

"Afternoon."

Eggsy breathes in deeply - he hasn't smoked since being dumped into Kingsman's subterranean barracks forced him to quit cold turkey, but he sometimes misses it. Jesus. He was going to start out with shop talk, Tommy's latest project, but he realises now that if it goes that way he'll never get the bottle to get to where he actually wants to go.

"Listen, uh, I was just wonderin' - " He swallows dryly; it doesn't help. "You headin' back up tonight?"

They've had a handful of conversations, but almost never one-on-one, and Tommy settles comfortably into this one. He taps some ash off the end of his cigarette, then nods at his car.

"That I am. Just gearin' up for the drive now." He raises one eyebrow in a silent question- there has to be more to that.

"Right. Yeah."

No, Eggsy, fuck you, get it together.

"...only, you're about to be gettin' into the really shit traffic, this time of day. You could leave it for a bit, we could maybe get a bite to eat first? There's a good pub not far from here."

That's fair, isn't it? He's asking him if he wants to get dinner while he's waiting for the roads to die down a bit, not specifically - asking him out. And if there's anything to imply that his interest is not strictly professional, well - they can't talk about work in a pub.

He halts with his cigarette halfway back up to his mouth, eyes a little wider. That-- was unexpected. For all his thoughts about Eggsy's laugh, his hands around a poisoned pen, he had not expected Eggsy to feel anything remotely similar. Tommy knows he's attractive, but he always forgets that people might actually act on that attraction.

God, he hopes that Eggsy is doing just that right now, that he isn't mistaken.

"That's a very good plan. D'you have a car, or should we...?" He gestures at his own car, hesitant even at that.

He may, may be getting a little nervous.

That's actually immensely encouraging - the pause, the wide eyes, the slightly halting manner, that's all good insofar as it means they might actually be on the same page. If Tommy was too straight to see this as anything other than two blokes unwinding after a hard day's work, there wouldn't be any of that, would there? So this - yeah. He can work with this.

"Yeah, I get the train in from the office." This is deliberately pretty vague - there is actually a Tube line that runs close by, but he doesn't know if Tommy has the clearance to know about the private shuttle from Savile Row to the subterranean level. "I'll navigate, s'only five minutes."

"Alright, then," he says, giving Eggsy a soft, encouraging smile before stubbing out his cigarette and making his way to the car. There's a little extra bounce in his step, and he waits for Eggsy to get settled before pulling out of the driveway.

There's a big briefcase on the backseat, little boxes in the boot, all kinds of notebooks littered around for when he gets an idea. He'd never noticed, but he feels a little strange about the mess now, with Eggsy so close.

Eggsy, for his part, has still not bothered buying a car for himself - it's utterly unnecessary in London, and the Kingsman garage has him covered if needs be - and is absolutely oblivious to a small amount of untidiness.

"Just head out and turn left like you're goin' for the motorway, I'll talk you through from there."

And then he goes quiet for a while, as the car pulls out.

"So how'd your lot get involved with ours?" he asks, genuinely curious. He's aware that Kingsman has a controlling stake in his company, mostly as insurance, but there's also a lot of contractual stuff that assures the company's own management retains autonomy.

The weather is good enough that he rolls both their windows down, leans an elbow on the edge as he drives. He's confident in this as he is in most things, and he throws Eggsy a smile before looking back out at the road.

"We'd been doing small-time work for Kingsman for a few decades, but technology changed so quickly Kingsman couldn't quite keep up the same way, not with their level of professionalism. After I came back from Iraq we decided to revisit our strategy, upgrade the business, and Kingsman was interested enough that we could grow even further."

"Yeah? I knew it was a family firm, but I never knew it went back that far."

He's not going to bother asking if the Shelbys have ever contributed to the Kingsman ranks themselves. He knows the answer from his accent alone.

"...I didn't know you served," he adds, more quietly.

Edited 2015-10-18 12:59 (UTC)

"I did," he says, but there's nothing serious about his tone, nothing to indicate that he spends nights awake because of the nightmares. It's not something anyone knows, and he doesn't care to let on now, lest he seem like too much trouble right of the bat.

"When me contract was up I pulled out, came back to the family business. We started out trading ordinary weapons in the thirties, then production, then--"

Well, he indicates the backseat of his car with a smile.

"Yeah."

It's a short drive - ten minutes, just out of the safety buffer of homes around the estate owned and occupied by Kingsman's support staff. The pub is a bit on the gentrified gastro side, but Eggsy can forgive that because the food is really good and the music they play isn't shit.

Eggsy picks out a table for them in a quiet corner (which means they can both sit with their backs to the wall, close to the rear exit, clear route to where they've parked) and insists on getting Tommy a drink. Coke for himself. He's already nervous enough without the potentially blurring effects of alcohol getting involved.

He has no idea where to go from here.

He's glad for Eggsy's instincts- it means he won't frown at him, ask him why he's moving to such a dark, quiet part of the place instead of in the middle of everyone else. It puts him at ease, and he waits for Eggsy to come back with his drink (coffee, because he's driving, and because he needs a kick that doesn't involve alcohol).

When he's back Tommy smiles, and for a very brief moment his fingers touch Eggsy's, right as the coffee changes hands. He's not flushing, Jesus, he's a grown man.

"How long've you been with the company, then?" He's trying to smooth it over, distract Eggsy from the look on his face.

"....about a year," he says. "I was up for Roxy's job," no need to further identify their only female agent, "but obviously it went to her. But then, you know - V-Day happened, made a few gaps."

They have to speak fairly euphemistically in public but he can't say he likes talking about Harry's death that way.

"So that's me. They've just about stopped droppin' their monocles in their tea when I open my mouth."

He snorts out a laugh, looks up at Eggsy with faint delight in his eyes. It neatly distracts him from the deep ache V-Day has left in most of the world's population.

"Used to have to go through the servant's entrance, me, all the way 'round the back. Your old boss was a prick."

No need to lie about that anymore- he caught enough snippets of what he'd done to know Eggsy won't mind him saying so.

Not for nothing do people call him Mordred - behind his back, like he's physically capable of giving a shit.

"He was. Fuck him. The king is dead," he says faux-gravely, lifting his glass in a toast. "Long live the king."

He takes a sip of Coke, eyes gleaming over the top of the glass. (The servants' entrance, Jesus, they're a century past Downton.)

He offers Tommy a menu.

"So, family business. There a lot of you?"

He outright laughs at that, lifting his coffee cup and setting it back down with a slight rattle. God, he's glad he has a sense of humor too.

"Three brothers and a sister- plus me aunt, who lives in the same house. And, uh-- John has four children. So it's a bit crowded." To say the least.

Eggsy looks utterly delighted by Tommy laughing - makes no attempt whatsoever to hide it. He's so fucking charmed it ought to be embarrassing.

"Yeah, no kidding. Jesus, I can't imagine - it's just my mum and my sister, and she's only a toddler." But his voice goes soft, and there's clearly nothing he treasures in the world like the two women in his life.

"Have you, uh - got kids?" No ring on his finger but that doesn't mean anything in this day and age. Just because Tommy's maybe a little taken with him, doesn't mean he's single.

He doesn't even realize he'd kept a mental list until he practically feels himself put a tick in the box next to treasures family. Tommy's in his thirties, now, and he knows what he wants out of a partner even if he doesn't exactly try to get one.

"No kids, and neither the plans nor means to have them in the near future." Because he wants to make sure Eggsy knows he's very, very single.

"Well, if you did have the means I'd be in for a shock," Eggsy jokes, then immediately realises what he's just fucking said. He feels his face go hot.

"I mean - oh, Jesus, that's not what I meant," he says lamely, and it's made worse by the fact that that kind of is what he meant. "Shit. Sorry."

He hides his smile behind his coffee cup, but it does a very poor job of it- his eyes still twinkle, and he accidentally knocks his foot into Eggsy's- Christ, he's in, he really is.

"It isn't?"

Honesty is the best policy, Eggsy.

The stupid thing is that if this was work, he'd be well in. Point him at a mark and he'll be a force of nature. Irresistible. He can do whatever takes, be whoever it takes, for Kingsman or his family. Trying to get stuff for himself...

That's harder.

"I've never done this before," he says, a lot of the gloss abruptly knocked off him, and that has to represent both 'yes, it is' and 'I'm scared as fuck'.

Eggsy'd picked a booth, and as such it's fairly easy for Tommy to scoot a little closer, just enough so that he can feel Eggsy's body heat- close enough to touch, but not touching just yet.

"I don't do this either, Eggsy. It's been years since-"

Since he's had anyone he's even been interested in like this, so slowly and happily. His stomach tightens a little, but he summons a smile for Eggsy, heartfelt. "So we'll figure it out together, eh?"

Eggsy smiles back, and this time it's his foot nudging Tommy's.

"Yeah, alright. Together."

And those few words settle a lot of what's inside him that's feeling twisted and strange. It's a date now. Officially an actual date. Which is...fine. Yeah. It's fine.

"...okay then. Think I've stopped feeling like I'm about to puke, so, let's get somethin' to eat?"

He grins, has to physically restrain himself from reaching out and trying to fit his thumb into the crease next to Eggsy's mouth. Instead he looks at the menu; orders something simple and filling, and another coffee to go with it.

"What did you do before Kingsman, Eggsy?"

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