Heartbreaker, Love Taker, Dream Maker
Agent Gawain x Merlin (Hamish Mycroft)
Title taken from Pat Benatar's "Heartbreaker" Word count: 3,125 Read here on AO3 Summary: In which one of Europe's deadliest assassins falls head-over-heels for Kingsman's Quartermaster.
Heartbreaker. One of Europe's deadliest assassins, he’d been silently dealing with marks for five years- and those were only the ones Kingsman knew about. His method was unique but highly effective, especially for someone so alluring. Death in six-inch heels, Galahad once said, and Merlin couldn’t help but agree.
That didn’t mean he had to like working with him, though. The blonde sitting across from Merlin was being particularly insufferable today, much to the amusement of the other knights. Merlin was not pleased.
His voice rang out, sharp and cold, across the meeting room table. “You need to start takin’ this seriously, Heartbreaker, or you will fail,” Merlin snapped. Much to his annoyance, Heartbreaker only grinned coyly at him.
“I am taking this seriously, love, can’t you tell? Or are my scores still too low? Do I need to do a little under-the-table work to get ‘em up?” He grinned, voice coming out low and teasing. Merlin seethed. Heartbreaker did, in fact, have a point here. His scores were miles above the other recruits and he didn’t even seem to be trying. He’d also somehow found time to make friends with Eggsy, which didn’t particularly surprise anyone but did not do any favors for Merlin’s blood pressure.
Heartbreaker’s amusement only seemed to grow as Merlin reddened. “You know damn well what I mean, lad,” he hissed. Heartbreaker giggled, honest to god giggled, and Merlin very stoutly ignored the things that sound did to his heart. It was meant to do those things. And Merlin was pissed that it was working at all.
“Aw, c’mon, love, why don’t you use your words? Has the cat got your tongue?” Heartbreaker cooed, and Merlin’s face reddened until it looked like he might be cousins with a beet. It was, perhaps, a bit embarrassing that the man could get under Merlin’s skin so easily, but somehow, by some mercy, Heartbreaker never wound him up like this anywhere but in private. “Also, your accent does some very fun things when you’re mad. It’s hot,” he grinned, leaning on one hand.
Merlin gave up. It felt like he was about to burst a blood vessel and he was not going to hear the end of it from Harry if he found out that Heartbreaker had such an effect on him. “I’m done. We’re not doing this,” he muttered, standing up and stalking out. “Go piss someone else off, you little shite.”
Heartbreaker’s laugh was audible down the corridor.
________________________________
It didn’t get better after Gawain was knighted. If anything, it got worse, the bad pickup lines escalating to flirty comments and compliments and touching and Merlin was, quite frankly, losing his shit. He’d thought this nonsense would stop after Gawain had gotten in, but no, of course it didn’t, because the universe hated him. Or maybe Gawain did. He was like this with no one else. Only Merlin had to suffer.
And of course, speak of the devil and he shall appear.
“Hi, darling, how are you?” came the silky tone from the doorway, and true to form, there was Gawain leaning on the doorframe. Merlin, as usual, ignored the things his heart did at the sight of him (god, but that outfit was unfair) and scoffed. “I’m quite fine, Gawain, but I’d be better if you hadn’t darkened my doorstep,“ he rumbled, lip curling as he faced his screen once again.
He was startled by the soft clunk of a coffee cup being set down next to him, the old one having been stolen away at some point. “Wh-” Gawain cut him off. “You’re working too hard, sweetheart, and sleeping at the desk is bad for you. Figured you’d want somethin t’keep you up.” His voice was…oddly soft, and he grinned sheepishly when Merlin gave him a look. “Fresh pot’s already gone, but I’ve got one set up for ya,” he murmured, “I’ll leave you to it, Merlin.” He was out the door and down the hall before a very confused Merlin could say a word.
He was half-expecting some disgusting, sugary abomination, but it was perfect. One sugar and two creams, exactly how he himself would make it. Perhaps even a little better than that.
________________________________
Merlin absolutely hated every second of this. This was so far out of his comfort zone he was practically on the other side of the world. His shirt covered absolutely nothing, which wasn’t shocking, because it didn’t even close, and while the shimmery blue-purple fabric was very pretty, he felt incredibly exposed in it. The pants were, thank god, easy to move in, but that didn’t change the fact that he felt genuinely ridiculous.
The low neon lights made both Gawain’s gold tube top and his amber eyes sparkle, the deep red eyeshadow adorning him making the colour pop. His short skirt looked like it was on fire, the bright material flowing in interesting ways that only added to the illusion. It was odd being on eye level with him for once, but the platform heels gave him an extra boost in height that the blonde was, of course, using to his advantage.
Gawain was really only there to be eye candy, to flirt around and make Merlin’s job easier by distracting the barman and the patrons, and for some unfathomable reason, Merlin genuinely could not stand this. Watching Gawain in his element while he was waiting for the opportunity to sneak round back and get what he needed was nothing short of pure torture, and Merlin could not for the life of him figure out why.
It’s not as though he liked Gawain. Or even thought he was particularly attractive. The man was infuriating, and annoying, and beautiful, and honestly kind of cute- and Merlin needed to go. Like right now. Gawain flashed him a look, the kind that says go, go, move your ass, while he was ensconced in conversation with someone, and Merlin moved his ass.
The information, while complicated to the untrained eye, was laughably easy to get (at least for him) and Merlin was back at the bar and watching Gawain be flirted with in five minutes. He sat down on his barstool and contented himself with watching the idiots around him get drunker (and keeping an eye on the lass in the corner who kept having to turn down a lad trying to buy her a drink) and ordering another glass of whisky.
He just about jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder, but the voice was familiar. “-is my boyfriend. Sorry, hun, but I’m taken.” Gawain’s voice was tight, on edge, and Merlin’s eyes snapped to the short, wide chap who’d caused it. The man laughed, and Merlin stood with all the fluidity of ten years in the Marines and then ten more in the field, eyes boring holes in the smug little shite.
“Really, baby? This fuckin’ freak?” the bastard sneers, “You could be with a real man, y’know.” Gawain gave Merlin a “please help me” sort of look, and, drunk as he was, he decided to do so in a rather ungentlemanly sort of way.
“Yeh really think this absolute looker of a man would wan’tae be with some rat-faced bastard tha’ looks like he’s got run over by an eighteen-wheeler?” Merlin sneered, tilting his head as he nudged his sunglasses down to look the man over, dark eyes full of disdain. “He could do be’er lookin’ though th’bins outside.”
Gawain looked rather like he was trying to keep from laughing, but Merlin did not have time to relish in this achievement before the short man was punching him in the stomach and Merlin was doubling over and there was a rather alarming snarl before Gawain’s foot was meeting his face in an absolutely brutal kick and the short man was bowled over.
The look on Gawain’s face was terrifying, deadly and pissed and his grip was nigh-on possessive as he stormed out of the bar. The short man tried to follow, but the pistol barrel in his face was a rather good deterrent. Merlin didn’t realise Gawain still had hold of his hand until about three blocks down, and he found that he was quite willing to keep hold of it.
Gawain huffed a sigh, shoulders slumping as he tucked his pistol away. “Sorry about that, love. I didn’t really want it to escalate.” His voice was soft, and all Merlin could focus on was the gentle motion of Gawain’s thumb across his knuckles. His face felt as though it was on fire, and it felt like the world had narrowed down to that exact sensation.
“...Ah didnae ‘zactly mind, Gawain,” he murmured, squeezing his hand gently. Gawain flushed, a shy little grin crossing his face before he shivered. Merlin realised abruptly that it was, in fact, rather cold out, and Gawain was in a tube top and a skirt that left hardly any skin covered. So Merlin did the gentlemanly thing of shrugging his shirt…jacket… thing off and draping it over Gawain’s shoulders, wrapping an arm around him to warm him up. Gawain leaned into him with a soft little noise that sounded like pure contentment and Merlin simply melted.
They stayed like that the whole way back to the hotel, and through the elevator ride, and it was only when Merlin needed to fish the key out of his pocket that Gawain was released. He unlocked the door to let them both in, and the first thing he did was pull on a jumper. Gawain’s shoes were abandoned, and he didn’t even bother with the skirt before collapsing on the bed.
Merlin sighed, gently pulling Gawain to his feet. “C’mon, lad, up ya get. Tha’ skirt cannae be comfortable,” he murmured. Gawain made a sleepy noise of assent, and allowed Merlin to help him into some pajamas. Gawain flopped on the bed again after that, and Merlin nudged him over so he could lay down as well.
Merlin stiffened as Gawain scooted to curl up against him, already mostly asleep, but it didn’t take long to adjust and relax. Gawain looked peaceful, snuggled up with Merlin like this, and he felt his heart swell with affection. Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but Merlin found himself thinking that he wouldn’t really mind if this happened again.
________________________________
The next morning, Merlin woke up feeling shockingly okay. He wondered for a brief moment why that was before he was distracted by an absolutely heavenly smell and wandered out into the kitchen to find Gawain. Cooking. Shirtless. He stood there in the doorway, genuinely befuddled, and Gawain looked back at him, grinning. “Morning, sunshine!” he chirped, turning back to flip a pancake. “Was wonderin’ when you’d wake up. You must’ve been fuckin’ trashed, love.”
Merlin fumbled for a response, and came up with the very eloquent statement of standing there and looking confused. Gawain laughed, the sound bright and genuine and god, that man did things to Merlin’s heart. “These tits were fuckin’ expensive, love, I’m gonna show ‘em off.” That got Merlin’s attention, and considering he was still half-asleep no one should be blaming him for his confusion.
Gawain went back to making pancakes, but it was only when he turned around to set a plate of them on the table, thus baring the twin half-moon scars on his torso that it actually clicked. And honestly, this was just one of those things that Merlin learnt about and then promptly shrugged off because it really didn’t matter.
The pancakes were absolutely fantastic, as were the bacon and eggs that followed. At some point, Gawain got him a cup of coffee and sat down next to him to eat his own breakfast. He scooted closer, leaning on Merlin’s left side, and Merlin let him. He would deny any such act later, but he wrapped an arm around Gawain to pull him a smidge closer, to bask in his warmth. Gawain went red and nearly choked on his pancake, scooting closer to Merlin after a moment. It felt almost disgustingly domestic, but, honestly? Merlin wasn’t complaining.
________________________________
The days following that mission were…different, to say the least. Gawain brought Merlin coffee more often. Merlin laughed at the stupid puns he told sometimes, and relished in the grin that spread across the blonde’s face. He was far less unwilling to be the object of Gawain’s affections, and everyone- including Gawain himself- noticed. And Gawain got smoother about it. A cheesy pickup line here and there became genuine compliments and teasing that had Merlin’s face aflame, and Gawain smirking at him with that damned look that Merlin wanted to kiss off his stupid pretty face.
Gawain had to know what he was doing to Merlin’s sanity. He was absolutely ass-over-tits for Gawain, there was no way he was clueless. But it sure seemed that way as he flitted around the ballroom, that damned green dress hugging every inch of him and his short hair done up beautifully and every bit of bared skin adorned with jewelry. Pearls around his neck, diamonds dripping down his ears, every goddamn color of the rainbow adorning his hands and wrists.
Merlin needed a fucking drink. Fortunately, Harry made sure to keep the open bar well-stocked at these stupid little galas of his, and he knows Merlin (and half of Kingsman, if he’s being quite honest) well enough to know he’ll want to have at least a few.
A few becomes a few dozen as he watches Gawain chat with someone across the room, eyes sparkling over the rim of his glass, and Merlin can’t help but feel a pang. He desperately wishes that was him, being chatted up by Gawain, and for as much as he’s scoffed at the blonde’s advances, he can’t deny that he craves it, a little bit. Seeing those pretty eyes meet his, amusement and joy and something deeper, warmer, more intimate dancing in the bright gold is fucking addicting.
He loses track of Gawain for a couple hours, too busy nursing his whisky and his pride, when Eggsy comes up to him looking worried. “Merlin, I think Gawain needs t’ go t’ bed. He’s gettin’ all weepy,” Eggsy blurts, and Merlin sighs, drains his glass, and goes to deal with Gawain, who had apparently been tucked away in the corner by Eggsy. He is indeed getting a bit weepy, and while Merlin is swaying a bit, he’s not so drunk as to ignore the hurt in Gawain’s amber eyes.
“What’s got ya hurtin’ lad?” he murmurs, sliding into the seat next to Gawain, and Merlin isn’t prepared for the fragility in the blonde’s voice. “...d’you hate me or somethin’?” He mumbles, refusing to meet Merlin’s eye. Merlin recoils. “‘Course nae, lad, where’d ya get tha’ from?”
Gawain doesn’t respond for a moment, just hiccups and shivers a bit in the chilly air, and he startles when Merlin drapes his jacket over his shoulders. “...you don’t like it when I flirt, and you told Galahad that you thought I was nothing but a posh little twink who needed set right,” he mumbles into his arms, sniffling.
Merlin hesitates before resting a hand on Gawain’s shoulder. “...I ne’er hated th’ flirtin’, Gawain. I hated tha’ I couldnae tell if ya were doin’ it fer real or fer fun,” he admits, quiet and hesitant. “I jus’ didnae wan’ t’get hurt.” Gawain sniffles before scooting to burrow into Merlin’s side, mumbling something about homicide. “...Wha’ was ‘at, love?”
Gawain makes an impressively flustered noise before looking up at him, those gorgeous golden eyes sparkling in the low light. Merlin finds himself breathless, caught like a fly in the deep amber pools. “...I’d kill anyone that hurts you, Merlin,” he whispers, almost reverently, and Merlin finds himself drawn back to that incidental mission three months ago, and wonders how close Gawain had been to pulling the trigger, and how much of the reason he hadn’t done so was Merlin himself. “I think I’m in love with you,” is the next blurted sentence, “Well- I know I am. I have been since you sucker-punched that arse of a trainee,” he mumbles, going red in the face.
Merlin doesn’t say anything for a few moments, completely stunned speechless, and Gawain wilts, the light in his eyes snuffed out in a moment. But he doesn’t get the chance to scoot away from Merlin before the Scot is pulling him up into the softest, gentlest kiss he’s ever had. Gawain is completely motionless for a beat, and Merlin nearly pulls away before he’s being pulled closer to Gawain and they’re curling closer to one another and this must be what heaven feels like. And then they pull apart, and Gawain’s eyes are bright and he’s smiling like a lovestruck fool, though Merlin doesn’t really have any room to talk because he can feel himself grinning too.
Gawain doesn’t say a word before he’s standing up, Merlin’s jacket still draped across his shoulders, sending a coy look over his shoulder as he goes and retrieves the absolutely gorgeous fur he’d worn in and Merlin follows after him, taking his arm and vanishing upstairs together.
And much as their colleagues would like to speculate, there was no shedding of clothing beyond getting out of that stupid dress and high heels that left Gawain’s feet sore and washing off of shimmery green eyeshadow, beyond shucking jacket and vest and button-down and trousers in favour of a jumper and some sweats and comfy socks.
Gawain flopped down next to Merlin, and he swore the sight of him in Merlin’s sweater was going to give him a heart attack. He found he didn’t mind all that much, hauling Gawain closer to plant a kiss on his still-slightly-green lips. Gawain was the first to pull away, snuggling against Merlin’s chest and curling his entire body around him. Merlin reached to pat his head, and Gawain leaned into it with a soft, content little noise.
He couldn’t believe that the same sleepy-eyed blonde with messy hair was the same black-cloaked assassin that had sat across from him just a few years ago. But Heartbreaker was still there, Merlin mused to himself as he started to fall asleep, he was just…buried a bit. Hidden in the possessive hold on Merlin’s hand, the dark look in his eye when someone looked wrong at a friend, in the cold, calculated taking of a life.
But it was late, and Merlin was drunk and rather tired, and such things were better saved for a morning chat with Gawain. So he rolled over, pulling the covers up and curling around Gawain protectively before falling asleep.
Masterlist
