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The Likes Of Me And You

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Eggsy’s seven when an alpha in a suit comes and tells his mum that his da, his da with his kind eyes and strong hands who promised to teach Eggsy how to do a backflip and swim and shoot and the list went on with promises that Eggsy knows will never be fulfilled now, is dead.

He hears his mum break down, hears the pain and the devastation in her voice.  He watches from beneath his lashes as she slaps the stranger’s hand away, tears in her eyes and grief already bowing her slender shoulders.

All Eggsy can do is sit on the floor a few feet away from them, play with the snow globe his da brought him the last time he was home and try to pretend like he’s not paying attention to every word they’re saying.

But he is.

Because Eggsy is smart.  He is, was he supposes now in a distant sort of way he was, his da’s bright little egg who could read and walk and write and do so many other things so much quicker than the other kids on their block.  So he knows what death is, knows it means that his da, all bright smileswide shoulders and sturdy alpha strength, is never coming back.

Eggsy can smell the dark, rich earthy scent of the man a powerful alpha some part of him whispers because even at his age he can pick up scents easily and the smell of power clings to the man when he crouches down in front of him and asks for his name.  Being the focus of the alpha’s attention makes Eggsy shy in a way he’s never been but he still manages to answer.

The alpha hands Eggsy a medal and a few words of encouragement and then he’s gone.

But Eggsy is smart, he heard what the man told his mum, heard all about the favor and the words.

Oxfords Not Brogues.

The words don’t mean anything to him no matter how smart he is but he tucks the memory deep down inside of him right beside his da’s warm coffee scent, steady hands and ready smile because somehow he just knows he’s going to need them one day.

Eggsy knows that things are going to change, knows that things will never be the same without his da.  But he thinks that despite how much that hurts he’ll be alright because he still has his mum and she still has him.

They’ll take care of each other just like the alpha told him to.

Just like his da always told them to.


It’s also, coincidentally, the last Christmas Eggsy ever has.


Things are alright at first.

That’s to say his mum puts on a good show about it but Eggsy sees the truth quickly.

His mum has to take a second job, and Eggsy hears her crying on the phone to Gilly from a few doors down about bills and rent and how ‘they didn’t even give me his pension Gill.  My husband’s dead and now I don’t know what I’m going to do.  Eggsy’s growing so fast and he already spends all of his time alone-’ before she notices him watching and softly shuts her bedroom door.

He does his best to make things easier on her whenever he can.  He keeps the apartment as clean as he can, doesn’t whinge on about toys or sweets or anything like that.  He gets himself up in the morning and then to and from school on his own. He even learns to entertain himself when she’s working and he’s stuck in the flat alone.  He tells her he doesn’t need a babysitter and he knows she only lets him stay alone because the thought of shelling out even a few extra quid for someone to watch him is enough to make the lines around her mouth etch themselves even deeper into her face.  Eggsy hates that no matter how lonely and dark the flat is at night.

So he learns to take care of himself really.  Eggsy learns to hide the burns and the cuts he gets from trying to cook.  Learns to cry quietly when he has a nightmare but doesn’t want to wake her up.  Learns to be alone and to pretend that it doesn’t really bother him that much.

None of that matters anyhow because he’s going to take care of her just like that alpha told him to.  Just like his da always told him to.


He’s eight when Dean comes into the picture.

The man’s rough, all loud alpha posturing and cloying musk that makes Eggsy’s eyes water and his throat itch, but he makes his mum laugh so Eggsy grins and bears it.

Anything that makes her laugh like that, that makes her eyes light up just so, is worth a little bit of irritation in his opinion.

Dean will never be his da, will never replace the man whose memory still lives fresh and vivid inside of Eggsy’s mind, but maybe they can be a family someday anyways, maybe it won’t be so bad.

Besides Dean seems nice in a gruff kind of way.


Eggsy’s wrong about that.  Wrong about Dean.  Wrong about a lot of things.

Dean isn’t nice.

Not for long.

Not at all Eggsy realizes sometime later.

But it’s too late then, his mum’s married the man, tied herself and Eggsy to this puffed up alpha who goes from someone harmless who makes Eggsy’s throat itch to a snarling thing that kicks and spits at him, that makes his bones hurt when he grabs him too hard whenever Eggsy isn’t quick enough to do something.

Eggsy sleeps in his closet now with his hands clapped tight over his ears to drown out the screams and snarls and everything else.

Eggsy’s never been so frightened but his mum doesn’t do more than press a kiss against his forehead and send him to his room whenever he says something, tells him to ‘hush up now babe and go play’.


Time plods forward and Eggsy tries his best to keep himself occupied.

His hands play with the medal around his neck constantly.  He rubs the pad of his thumb across the details so often that he’s half scared he’ll wear the thing down.

He thinks about calling, thinks about begging someone to come take him and his mum away from Dean.

Oxfords not brogues, a voice whispers in his ear and he’s so very tempted.  He’s not sure what kind of favor the alpha was talking about but maybe it would be enough.  Maybe it’d be enough to get rid of Dean.

Take care of your mum, another distant but still vivid memory sighs and Eggsy feels his spine straighten even as he tucks the medal back beneath his shirt with a sudden surge of resolve.


The next time Dean raises a hand to his mum Eggsy steps forward and takes the blow instead.


It’s the first of many.


His one hope is that when he presents it’ll be as an alpha so that maybe then he’ll finally be strong enough to tear Dean’s throat out with his teeth.


Most kids present around thirteen or fourteen when that first massive flux of hormones propels them smoothly into their secondary gender.

Eggsy, a mass of nerves and black and blue bruised skin, a vicious mouthed little monster crafted out of too little food, not enough care, and the sunburst pain of Dean’s fists, presents when he’s eleven.


He isn’t an alpha.

Or a beta.

Like all of Eggsy’s nightmares decided to come true all at once Eggsy is burrowed deep in the back of his closet as the small space fills up with the scent of his own slick and musk.

The way that he’s hot and sweaty and his thighs are sticky forces him to acknowledge the truth.

He’s an omega.

He’s an omega and his life is officially over.

Well what little bit of one he actually has that is.


Eggsy thanks God for small mercies since his first true heat doesn’t hit him until he’s fourteen.  For a few merciful years he’s able to hide what he is with heavy deodorant and a lot of close contact avoidance.  By then Dean’s beaten him until he’s all raised sharp edges and embedded fear that keeps him simultaneously hostile towards everyone and everything and yet coldly serene at the same time.

He’s determined not to let his nature rule him, determined to be strong and proud and just as fiercely independent as any alpha.

But that determination doesn’t stop the way fear curls through him so quickly when he can’t hide it anymore.  He wakes up one morning smelling like slick and heat and warm, soft omega just ripe for the taking.

He pretends that he doesn’t see the disappointment and the fear in his mum’s eyes even as she presses a blessedly cool hand to his forehead as she crouches down outside his closet where he still sleeps in a tangle of threadbare blankets.

They’d both hoped he would be an alpha like his da, had prayed he’d present like that.  Instead he’s followed in her footsteps and they both know what Dean’ll do now that Eggsy’s an omega.  They both know exactly what he’s capable of and Eggsy being an alpha would have been the only thing to stop what they both know is coming from happening.

Eggsy just curls in on himself further, bites at his lip and the inside of his cheeks until they begin to bleed so that he can stay as quiet as possible.

Oxfords Not Brogues.  The words float around his heat dazed mind, a prayer, a chant that’s become a symbol of strength to him just like the medal he never takes off.  It’s proof that he can survive somehow, proof that he’s strong enough to deal with all of this even if there is a possible, magical way out.  Proof that he’s strong enough not to try and run away from his problems.

Still for the first time in years Eggsy considers calling the number just on the hope that it’ll be a way out of what he knows will come.


Three weeks after his first heat he watches some sleazy looking bloke in a windcheater slip Dean a handful of quid before he walks into Eggsy’s room and shuts the door behind him.

Eggsy fights.

Of course he does.

He screams and snarls, snaps his teeth and his elbows and lashes out as wildly and as violently as he can.

But the man’s an alpha and while Eggsy’s strong for his age he’s still so fuckin young.

He doesn’t stand a chance.

The alpha gets what he wants and leaves Eggsy bloody and broken in more ways than one when he walks out an hour or two later.

“Get used to it Muggsy.”  Dean sneers down at him from the doorway of his room.  “Bout time you earned your keep boy.  And this,” Dean waves a hand at Eggsy’s bloody and beaten face as he turns to walk away, “this is all the likes of you’s ever gonna be good for.”


In the end Eggsy doesn’t call the number on the back of the medal, determined to hold out, to not take the chance of asking for help and either being ignored or outright denied.  Plus he knows, has been told in no uncertain terms by Dean, that if it isn’t him it’ll be his mum and Eggsy can’t let that happen.

So instead he breaks into the local chemist one night and grabs as much in the way of condoms and lube as well as synth-scent and suppressants that he can carry.  The suppressants will keep his heats at bay, will keep him clear minded all of the time, will keep him from slipping back into the burning fever of a heat.  Even with all the side effects that clarity, that certainty of clearness, means that, to Eggsy, they’re more than worth almost any risk.

Plus added to that is the fact that the synth-scent will act like camouflage so that he doesn’t announce his omega nature every time he leaves the house.

He knows it won’t matter, not really.  Dean’s already spread the word to most of the block about what he is and how his services are for hire.  Eggsy has to force himself not to remember exactly who has shown up in the past few weeks to slip into Eggsy’s room after paying Dean.  If he did he wouldn’t even be able to go to school without seeing faces that made him sick.

Still it’s a small comfort, being able to wander with his mates without every strange alpha they pass sniffing after him.  He gets enough of that at home.

He learns to grit his teeth and bare it though.  Learns to mimic alpha behaviors when he’s out with his boys, learns to pretend that he is what he’d always hoped he’d be instead of the omega he’d presented as.  He learns to treat his own wounds, even learns how to splint an occasional finger or stitch up a slash mark.  Hospital’s too expensive he knows, just like the doctor he should have been taken to when he presented as an omega so he could get the right vitamins and suppressants prescribed to him had been too expensive.

There are moments when Eggsy hates himself, hates his body and his biology.  Hates what he is on a level that makes him sick.

There are moments when he hates his mum too, hates the way she can sit there and watch what Dean does to him, too frightened or too high to even try and protect him, to try and make it stop.  Eggsy tells himself that he would never do that, would never stand by and let someone of his be hurt like he’s being hurt.


He pushes those thoughts away quickly though, doesn’t dare to let them linger in case they become real.

Oxfords Not Brogues he whispers to himself as he curls down in the closet that’s almost too small for him now.  He’ll take care of his mum even if this is what he has to do in order to do it.


There’s a few bright spots though.

He has his boys who stick with him through it all, Jamal and Ryan there by his side, betas the both of them but as loyal as anything Eggsy could ask for.  He steps between more than one fist for the two of them no matter how they always fret and bitch at him afterwards.  Omega or not Eggsy knows pain, can handle pain, is used to being hurt in one way or another so he’s got no problem being hurt for them.

There’s also the way a lot of the block pulls together and helps him out on and off.  The beta couple who own the little pastry shop down on the corner always pushes bags and boxes of left over bread and sweets on him with one excuse or another about how ‘it’s all practically moldy now anyways so he might as well take it honestly’.  He knows they’re lying but he’s mostly so grateful for the food that he can’t bring himself to care.

The chemist he robbed that first time is run by a sweet omega man who looks at Eggsy with something like sadness in his eyes.  He pulls Eggsy aside one day and tells him that if he goes to the free clinic and gets a script for a proper birth control and suppressant to bring back to him he’ll eat the costs and make sure Eggsy gets his pills.

A part of Eggsy hates the pity but he takes it anyways, too smart to let his pride take what little bit of help he might get away from him.

To make things a bit more bearable he picks up and discards hobbies rapidly so that Dean doesn’t have the pleasure of beating the fun out of him every time he enjoys something.

He learns sleight of hand just like every other street rat on his block does only he’s damn good at it.  He learns to drive, learns to fight, and he even learns to cook better than before.  Otherwise he wouldn’t eat most nights if he couldn’t find a way to put something together from the odds and ends in the kitchen at the flat or what he can scrounge up from the bins behind restaurants and diners.

He makes sure not to show how much he loves any one thing in particular because he knows Dean will just take it away from him.

He gets stuck on gymnastics though.  The free beginner’s class he took one summer before he presented segues to his way being paid to the more advanced classes as he gets older.  He’s good at it, so damn good, and the sheer joy of throwing his body around is easily able to overcome his carefully planned out pattern of cautiously hidden joy.  He manages to keep it up for a long time and in the end it’s worth the bruises Dean gives him on and off for being a ‘prissy little shit’.

Besides it’s not like they hurt any worse than the other bruises Dean normally gives him.

All they really do is make that hot, twisted ball of rage and hate in his stomach coil and flare every time he so much as thinks about Dean or about what he’s done to Eggsy, what he’s made Eggsy do.

But then, just as his coach is talking Olympics and Eggsy thinks he might have found a way out of the hell he lives in, Dean opens his bedroom door the night before the most important meet he’s ever had to not one, but two alphas.

Eggsy fights.  Fights harder than he’s had the energy to fight for a long time now, but it doesn’t matter.

He misses the meet.

Humiliated and furious his coach tell him not to come back when he shows up at the gym two weeks later and still slightly limping.  Eggsy just grins, says something sharp and smart before he turns on his heel and leaves without looking back.

He cries himself to sleep that night because that loss hurts worse than the way his body still does.


Eggsy does what he has to in order to survive.

He keeps his grades up, his shoulders squared and his mind set firmly to the future.  It’s the only way to survive his present.

Then, when he makes it out of sixth form to everyone but his own, and Jamal and Ryan's surprise, he knows what he has to do.

His mum doesn’t like it, wails and cries and curses until she’s blue in the face but Eggsy is stubborn.  This is his one chance to get out of the hell he’s in, to get away from Dean and everything he’s been living with for years now.  This is his one chance to maybe being able to get his mum out too someday.

He enlists and he doesn’t look back.


The Royal Navy is everything Eggsy could have ever hoped for.

He’s fed and clothed properly for the first time in years.  He gets an exam and is finally able to take all of the omegan vitamins and supplements he should have been taking from the start.  He puts on weight and muscle and he feels more alive than he can remember ever feeling.

Eggsy revels in the order, in the structure, in knowing his place, in knowing that all that’s expected of him is his best and the ability to follow orders.  Sure he’s looked down on for being an omega, the alpha and beta recruits sneer and snarl insults just like the instructors do but Eggsy doesn’t care.

He has a bed to sleep in instead of a closet and there’s no money changing hands for who has the right to fuck him whether he likes it or not so he’s happy.

What’s more is the fact that despite all of it Eggsy is good, damn good, at being a soldier, at being a weapon.  Good enough that eventually the jokes and the insults taper off because no one can ask him who he let knot him in order to get into the program when he has the highest weapon scores or is the most brutal at hand to hand.

He excels in the way he’s only occasionally allowed himself to excel because his success has always been dangerous around Dean.

For the first time in far too long Eggsy feels at ease, at peace.  He thinks that maybe he’s finally found the home he’s been looking for since the night he found out his da was dead.


He’s three months away from the end of his Marine training when the phone call comes.

“I’m pregnant.”  His mum’s voice is low, broken, and there’s so much fear there that for a second Eggsy can’t breathe.  “’ggsy luv I’m pregnant.”

Oxfords Not Brogues Eggsy can’t help but think to himself.  It’s still the one phrase that gives him the courage to do what he knows he needs to do no matter how bad it hurts.

And God does it hurt like burning, like something inside of him has been set alight.  Some precious bit of hope and joy burned to thick, dark ash.

“Be home soon Mum.”  Eggsy promises before he hangs up and turns around so he can go throw away the future he’s always wanted.


“Told you you’d be back you little shite.”  Dean sneers when Eggsy shows up a week later with a duffle bag and a straight spine.  “This life’s all the likes of you’s deserves.”

Eggsy is, despite himself, almost beginning to believe that Dean might be right.


Eggsy’s got a little money saved, not enough to get a flat or anything like that, but there’s enough to make sure Michelle gets the prenatal medication she needs.  Eggsy looks for work every day, goes from shop to shop to construction site to construction site.  There’s only odds and ends he can pick up, not enough to eke out a life by far, but it’s better than nothing.

So he focuses on keeping his mum clean and sober, on keeping her fed and scraping together what he can to make sure she goes to her doctor’s appointments to keep the little sprog she’s growing healthy.

He steps in between every blow Dean aims her way just like he used to and bites himself bloody to keep from lashing out with all the new ways he knows to take trash like Dean down with.

As much as he wants Dean dead Eggsy knows that he can’t do anything because for the first time Dean’s actually important.  Michelle needs the alpha pheromones he puts off to keep her stable and calm while she’s pregnant.  The synth-scents she’d need without him are restricted and are too expensive plus there’s no alphas around they could trust to help even her out privately.

Eggsy feels that well of self-hate he’s been nursing for years grow a little deeper because if he was an alpha like his da then he’d be able to keep her safe, be able to give her what she and the babe need.

But he isn’t and he can’t.

He’s just an omega and he can’t change that no matter how much he wishes he could.


Daisy is the most beautiful thing Eggsy’s ever seen in his life.  She’s smells soft and sweet and she’s everything he never knew he wanted right up until he lays eyes on her.

It doesn’t matter that she’s part of Dean, that her da’s been the source of pain and torment for Eggsy for years now.  None of that matters.

As far as Eggsy’s concerned the moment Michelle puts her in his arms Daisy is his.

He’ll do whatever he has to in order to make sure that she doesn’t go through what he has.


There’s no crib at the flat.  There’s none of the things he’ll need to take care of his lil’flower.  Just the one can of formula and the small bag of diapers he’d managed to scrap the money together to get his hands on.

Dean won’t be any help Eggsy knows.  He’d been too busy getting pissed at the pub to even be at hospital when she was born.

Eggsy looks around at everything, thinks about the last few quid he has in his pocket, and knows what he has to do.

He takes a shower, pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt left over from before he enlisted and gained a stone of sheer muscle, and heads out into the night.


He stumbles back into the flat and then into the bathroom in the early hours of the morning.  He jerks his clothes off violently before he turns the shower as hot as it’ll go.  He scrubs his skin until it’s practically raw and then he collapses down onto the tile.  He stays there until the water runs cold and he can’t feel anything anymore.

Afterwards he towels off, gets dressed, and then shakes himself to sleep inside his closet.

That afternoon he buys Daisy a crib and picks up a few thing he’s read she’ll need.

That night he gets dressed and does it all over again.


Eggsy thinks it’ll get easier, going back to being some piece of omega ass willing to sell his hole to any knot with enough cash attached to it.

It doesn’t.

At least before, when Dean had started it all, Eggsy had been able to tell himself that it was rape, that he didn’t have a choice, that it wasn’t his fault and it wasn’t what he wanted.  At least then he’d been able to fight back at least a little.

Now, when he gets down on his knees at night so he can make sure Daisy has what she needs the next afternoon, he can’t say any of those things.

Now he can’t pretend that he’s anything but what he is.

Now he can’t pretend that he hasn’t made a choice to be what he is now.

An omega and a whore.


If Daisy is anything like him then Eggsy knows he’s got only about ten years to figure out how to get her out of this life before she presents.  Alpha, beta, or omega, it doesn’t matter what she ends up being Eggsy is determined that she’ll never face the kind of life he’s had.

He uses the thought of her as a shield and a sword.  Uses the thought of her sweet scent and bright laugh to protect himself from the sick feeling he gets every time he leaves the house at night.  He uses the way her eyes light up when he picks her up to cut through his doubts and his fear.

She’s worth it.

She’s worth anything, everything, he has and is.

Oxfords Not Brogues he thinks as he clutches at the medal he never takes off.  Protect Mum, protect Daisy.

Sometimes Eggsy can’t help but wish there was someone to protect him as well.


Daisy’s two when Eggsy comes home and there’s a strange alpha sitting beside Dean on the couch.  Daisy’s asleep in the playpen Eggsy bought her, curled up under a soft blanket that he scented every inch of before he gave it to her.  Michelle’s nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Mum?”  Eggsy can’t help but ask.

“Out Muggsy.”  Dean sneers as he takes another pull from the beer bottle in his hand.  “Go on an’ get now.  Me an’ the guv’s got business.”

There’s the scent of lust in the air, subtle but cloying to Eggsy, and for a second he’s taken aback as his eyes flick between Dean and the strange alpha.

That’s when he notices the way the man’s eyes are on Daisy’s playpen, haven’t left it the entire time Eggsy’s been inside.

Horror roars through him followed quickly by a sort of calm rage that he’s never experienced before.

He’s between the playpen and the couch in a flash, teeth bared and a snarl building in his throat.

“No.”  He snarls, voice barely recognizable through his rage.  “No.”  Daisy is a baby, a sweet wee thing and he knew Dean was evil but he’d never thought…

“Oi!”  Dean and the strange alpha are both on their feet then.  “Get out before I make you boy.”

There’s a red film across Eggsy’s eyes then and he’s not sure what exactly happens afterwards.  All he knows is that one minute the strange alpha steps forward, a smirk on his face and cruelty in his eyes, and then next there’s screaming.  The alpha’s on the ground, hands clasped around his torn throat and there is blood in Eggsy’s mouth and then Daisy’s in his arms and he’s running.

Omegan protective responses, a part of Eggsy’s mind whispers when he finally finds an abandoned car to duck into.  Omegan instincts are designed to protect their offspring, to protect their children.  Eggsy was serious when he said Daisy was his.

There’s blood cooling on his face and down his throat when he finally calms down enough to realize what had happened and just what he’s done.  Eggsy knows he should feel sick, knows that he should be upset and guilty because he’s torn someone’s throat out with his teeth, but he isn’t.

Instead he’s almost viciously satisfied, furiously pleased.  He licks the blood off of his teeth and croons at Daisy softly as something wild purrs happily in his chest.

Omegas are nurturers above all else but a lot of people forget the fact that they used to be considered far more dangerous than alpha’s in certain situations.

Eggsy had forgotten that as well, had underestimated his own instincts.   

He won’t make that mistake again.

Not now that he has something so pure and precious to protect.

He hides in the floorboard of the car with Daisy wrapped in his arms the rest of the night, awake and alert for danger.


Dean is tight lipped and leery when he finally goes back to the flat but he doesn’t say anything to Eggsy.  There’s no blood stains surprisingly enough but Eggsy can’t bring himself to care.

Dean probably stripped the alpha of anything of value and dumped the body.  It wouldn’t be the first time and it probably won’t be the last time Dean does something like that.

“You don’t touch ‘er.”  Eggsy tells him quietly, steadily, icy calm wrapped around him like a cloak.  “I’m fair game yeah?  But you don’t touch ‘er and you don’t touch me Mum.”

Dean sneers but he stays silent and Eggsy takes it as the closest thing to an agreement that he’s going to get.

He moves Daisy’s play pen back into his room and starts sleeping on the floor in front of the door instead of the familiar safety of his closet.


“Don’ leave her alone wif him Mum.”  Eggsy pleads with Michelle the next morning when Dean’s fucked off to wherever it is he goes.  Michelle’s wide eyed and pale but listening.  “Find me or take ‘er wif you but don’t leave ‘er wif ‘im again.  Not ever.”

She nods, something like horror in her eyes beneath the haze of the drugs and the booze, and all Eggsy can do is hope that for once she listens to him.


Two days later Dean grabs him by the hair, drags him out of the shower, and beats him until he can barely fucking breathe and Eggsy knows he’ll be pissing blood for a few weeks.

But the man doesn’t go near Daisy again, barely even looks at her, and that’s enough for Eggsy.

It has to be.


“You’ll look after the lil’flower if sometin’ happens to me right?”  Eggsy can’t help but ask Jamal and Ryan one night.  There must be something in his eyes or in his voice because the two betas just look at him for a long moment before they both nod silently and then wrap their arms around his shoulders.

Eggsy fights back a flinch before he takes a deep breath and melts into the embrace.  It’s been a long time since anyone but Daisy’s touched him without trying to hurt him.

He’s missed it so much.


If there was one thing Eggsy learned in the Royal Navy it’s the fact that everything and everyone has a breaking point.

Eventually, no matter how strong someone is, they finally find that point where everything just becomes too much and they … snap.

 A person can only bend so far before they break and Eggsy has been bending in one way or another for years.

He’s at the pub with Jamal and Ryan and his ears are still ringing with the way Daisy had cried for him and he just can’t take it anymore.

He swipes Rottie’s keys without as second thought, takes his car with a smile that’s more snarl than anything, and doesn’t look back except for when he’s driving away from the cops.

It feels good, like flying, like he’s always heard sex is supposed to feel, like Daisy’s hugs and soft blankets and warm food.  It feels like freedom.

But then there’s the damn fox and Eggsy just can’t hit it.  He can’t.

All he can do is tell Jamal and Ryan to run and he knows they only do because there’ll be no one left to watch over Daisy for him if all three of them are locked up.

Oxfords not Brogues he thinks again as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

Hitting the gas and making sure Rottie’s car’ll never be the same if far more satisfying than Eggsy had thought it would be.


Eighteen months.

It’s too long, way too long.

Eggsy can’t do eighteen months, not and leave Daisy on her own, not and leave his mum.

He finally makes the call.


Oxfords not Brogues Eggsy tells the woman on the other end of the line.

And just like that Harry Hart saunters into his life for the second time.

Eggsy feels a vague thrill go down his spine when he steps outside the police station and sees the alpha sleek and neat and so very dangerous smelling waiting on him.


Harry Hart is handsome, powerful, and utterly unimpressed with Eggsy and his halfhearted attempts to defend his life choices.

It hurts to be judged by this man, this alpha.  It hurts to hear the years of pain and torment he’s lived through summed up and trotted out as all the ways his da would be disappointed in him.  Eggsy manages to hold onto his temper by sheer will power alone and even then it’s a close thing.

Of course Dean’s little pissant thugs have to fuck it all up then, coming in all loud and rowdy and ready to hurt him or at least to try.  And if that’s not enough they call Eggsy a rentboy.  They put his shame right out there in front and ruin any chance he has of at least having Harry leave before he’s totally fucked.

But then Harry explodes into action and before Eggsy can really process what’s happened it’s over.  Dean’s thugs are all laid out, Harry’s clapping him on the shoulder and leaving, and Eggsy is half-hard and ready to drop to his knees for an alpha without any ulterior motive besides the desperate need to give himself away.

Even if he knows that Harry’ll more than likely never take him up on such an offer.

Or, if he did, it’d only be about fucking because Eggsy’s not the kind of omega that alphas want to keep.

He’s not good enough for that kind of life, that kind of love.


He takes Dean’s beating easily enough, just bares his teeth and denies, denies, denies.  He’s used to it after all and he’ll bleed out on the kitchen floor before he lets a word about Harry slip from between his teeth.

It’s Harry’s voice around him that throws everything out of wack.  Before he knows it he’s running, parkouring away from his problems like he’s done a million times, only this time he knows it’s different.

His first stop is Jamal’s and his friend swears to get Ryan and go and get Daisy for him from the beta girl a few doors down from Eggsy’s who watches her when he’s out.  They’ll keep an eye on her no matter what for however long he’s gone.

His second stop is the posh tailors and Harry Hart.


Spies.  Eggsy blinks in shock.

Kingsman.  Harry Hart tells him with a little half grin.

Eggsy thinks about gymnastics, about the Royal Navy, about everything he’s ever loved and had to give up.  He thinks about his lil’flower, about the ten or so years he has left to get her out of the hell hole they live in.

He thinks about the chance to not have to go down on his knees just to make sure she has enough to eat.

He thinks about Harry Hart, about working with the alpha, being able to be near him.

‘Okay’, Eggsy thinks, ‘Okay’.

‘Let’s do this’.

Oxfords not Brogues