#galahcd

[hisfinessearchive]

        oh. it appears that you’ve got a guest, mr. hart. one who’s made himself quite comfortable, at that.

@galahcd didn’t ask and yet

[myrlins-blog]

“ --- let go of that anger, Agent Galahad. My actions were my own; and you know exactly why I had to do it. ” Call it the balance and equilibrium set in their world; a sacrifice in death from the father of a man who now wears their suit and tie. He’d seen Harry’s face, the betrayal in the unspoken --- one of the few secrets kept in minute moment as a foot rests upon a landmine. 

Merlin’s hand settles against his now metal prosthetic; a heavy thing --- takes some getting used to. There’s phantom pains and the bleed of memories from a past before Kingsman and the day they’d thought he’d die. A glance up from his work. “ It’s not as bad as it looks. ”

starter . / @galahcd

[galahadsproposal]

Hey Haaaaarrrrrrrryyyy...

[ @kingsmanhart @oxfordnotbrogues @galahcd ]

[hisfinessearchive]

        look at him. he just might be responsible for that missing watch.

@galahcd didn’t ask for this BUT.

[warlocked-blog1]

what a rare commodity to experience, the softness that blurs an otherwise hard edge, knocking it down so that he would be easy to hold, to admire. there isn't that permeating sense of authority here that one would be subject to, as was so often the case when merlin worked from some omnipotent position in headquarters, never to be seen but more rather /felt/ in presence. harry would like to think himself privileged, in being here with him, such close intimacy. quietly, he allows him to work again

He’s caught in that in between; the fragile moment after mission success and the cleanup that is short to come. Congratulations, agents, you’ve saved the world again. Adrenalin still runs; that cocktail shaken equal parts worry and anticipation. it’s the job after all where shadow’s sought and an arm’s extended for a dance with death. The breath he had held onto is released, lungs pressed of the air as he sinks that little more into the comfort of his armchair. 

Give him a second --- the last of his tea drunk and fingers slipping behind glasses to rub at tired eyes before he then stands to greet the agent he knows will walk through his door. A victor with a smile that’s subtle, humility a part of the bespoke armour, but there remains that spy’s confidence in the slight lift of chin as he takes those steps and stops. 

Cheesy perhaps is the opportunity taken when space between them closes. Relish in it all, well paced steps purposeful, that small tease as hands remain still and clasped behind Galahad’s back. Small play in power and temptation set - black chess piece meets white and Merlin does the honours. 

Hands stretch, want in touch and relief in how the motion’s slow --- no suddenness, at least in their eyes ( a slow burn that beats the smoke from a gun ). There’s a drag of fingers against skin exposed before that tug, that shift and tilt of head when lips meet lips. 

A kiss freely given, and parting breath is that silent ask for more. The agent’s hands move again --- keep still, keep in place. A kiss again. This time, a little deeper, sweet all the same but this time there is that taste like the flame lick of further intent, promise later and perhaps even that slightest bit of hunger. 

But for now, there is that restraint, taut discipline that incites a want for chase. For now there are those fingers loosened, that slow shift of weight from front foot to back, for now, Harry feels the cold of space now unoccupied, a smile, another congratulations and a man that says three words: 

Back to work.

[hisfinessearchive]

        queen marie amélie’s crown jewels, themselves, are in a neatly displayed formation upon the surface of the table; solo is looking utterly thrilled with the fruits of his latest excursion. awaiting a congratulatory response, perhaps --- praise for what he’s done, though he’s well aware that in truth, he hardly deserves it.

                 ------ well?

@galahcd this is ugly.

[myrlins-blog]

His hand are stills once they find target --- flat against one’s chest. Merlin’s gaze comes with a slow rise: first the buttons on a blazer  tailored tight to fit, then to the stripe of his tie, to exposed neck, crooked lips and narrowed gaze. His own lips curve into a subtle smile, shoulders loosening as features relax. One final glance towards the hand pressed with gentle force before they settle once more to meet the Agent’s.

 “ Try to control your breathing, then, ” he says --- and it’s such a calm thing; control clear in the way fingers splay, in the way he moves and controls the space Harry threatens to overtake. There then comes next steps and second action: his lips against spy’s skin, heated breath and softened exhale in satisfaction. 

being n0tty @galahcd