Hartwin: Breathless green monster.
Harry glances up at the soft tap to his office door and foolishly he raises his head. Smiling faintly and leaning against the door jamb is Eggsy dressed quite exquisitely to the nines. The formal wear is of course bespoke and hugs the flattering lines of the figure the younger man cuts. The tuxedo is not the standard black and white, but the trousers and jacket are a cerulean with enough sheen to catch the light in a way matte black never could manage. His shirt front is perfectly pressed and his white tie is a subtle touch.
“How do I look?”
“A little overdressed just to come to me looking for compliments. Not gentlemanly of you, Eggsy.” Harry chides but he can feel his own smile.
“I wanted to make sure I pass inspection before I show up and collect Merlin. Otherwise he’s gonna turn me out ‘n I’ve been looking forward to going to the show for weeks now.” Eggsy goes on his excitement growing increasingly obvious. He’s restless with energy and leaves his post in the doorway to wander up to Harry’s desk. “For real, I look okay?”
Harry could bite right through his tongue to say nothing to spite him. Jealousy never was a flattering trait on him. But fool that he is, greatest of them all, he cannot do something so unkind to Eggsy.
“You look marvelous. If Merlin turns you away from his door come back here and we’ll encroach on his tickets together instead.” Harry wishes Eggsy would ask it of him, because he would.
Instead Eggsy looks down at the tops of his oxfords, neatly polished. “Thanks. First time wearing it or going to anything like this.”
Carefully Harry swallows back his bitterness as it sours further on his tongue. “Have a wonderful time. Don’t make Merlin wait on you, he won’t take kindly to it.”
Eggsy nods and smooths his hands over his jacket front.
“And gloves on. May as well go for the full effect.” Harry says and fixes his eyes back onto the documents he’d been busy with when Eggsy entered. He’ll get no more work done and Harry barely even hears Eggsy’s parting goodbye. He can still hear the tap of his heels when he digs out the bottle from his desk o try and chase the image of his best friend and the younger man Harry had the poor luck to be bewitched by.
The bottle offers him little solace.