Chapter Text
“Sh, Daisy-baby, shh,” Eggsy murmurs, bouncing the child in his left arm while stuffing a new sack of nappies down his pants in his right. He browses the tops of the aisles, checking – nope, no surveillance. Place was too cheap for any of that protective shit.
“You feelin’ like a new dummy, Daisy?” Eggsy whispers into the crown of his baby sister’s head. She still smelled like an infant, right at the top there, and it calmed with little nerves Eggsy still had. He was much too seasoned a thief to really worry, anymore. His methods were tried and true, and he was in and out before anyone had any idea he’d been there.
No corner store employee is calling the pigs, anyway – most of them took pity on poor little Eggsy Unwin, having to scrap by to feed his baby sis. Boo hoo, their mummy went and died on them.
Eggsy rolls his eyes at the mere thought. He doesn’t try to correct, say they were doing just fine, thanks. If the sob story helped him get some more things in his coat, so be it.
Daisy hums, sticks two fingers in her mouth. He lets her – they were pretty clean if his memory served. She raises her sweet, pink cheeks to him, babbles some nonsense, and gently holds his ear in her tiny hand. Her big blue eyes twinkle with intelligence she was too young to have the words for.
Eggsy presses their noses together, wiggles them to make her squeal and squirm.
“You want a pink dummy, or a blue?” He sticks Goldfish crackers into his backpack, followed by a few cans of baby formula. It was so convenient to have them in the same aisle.
He checks his back once, twice, and hikes Daisy up higher on his hip. She nuzzles into him, and he tucks her pink winter coat tight around her ears. It was getting cold so quickly these days, what with it being almost Christmas.
Ugh. Christmas. What does a two-year-old want for Christmas, that’s small enough to stuff down your pants?
Barbies, he guessed. Oi, fuck, is Daisy even old enough for Barbies? No, she’s not…
What else is on the list… He left the one he’d written in the other pair of jeans, hadn’t he? Christ, he had the memory of a goldfish sometimes…
Daisy whines.
“Yeah, love, I know,” Eggsy mutters. He’s tired and wants to go home, too. Job searching was starting to get ridiculous – so what if he had a fucking record? Let him put up your fucking fence, for 6 measly fucking quid per job done.
He shakes his head – no need to get upset. If he got upset, the baby got upset, and that was no good for nobody. A new stuffed animal – looks like a little lamb of some sort – goes into the backpack. Daisy deserves that much.
Well, she deserves the whole world a million times over, really. But this is what Eggsy had to offer, for now.
“E’sy,” Daisy demands. Her little brow furrows, like she can’t understand why she’s not at home and in bed by now. “Home, bottle. Please?”
“You’re hungry?” Eggsy coos. “Me, too. We’ll go home and eat, yeah? And Eggsy will warm up a bottle for you, my lovely Daisy girl.”
“Home, bottle. Home, please?” Daisy cries, kicking her feet in protest. Her soft, socked toes hardly hurt, but the message is clear.
Eggsy feels a bit of a meltdown coming on, and he can’t even blame her. If he were two, being out this late would probably make him fussy, too. If those bastards at the unemployment office hadn’t kept them waiting all damned day…
Eggsy sighs. He was wringing the neck of the next unemployment officer he saw, and that was that. It was only fucking fair, at this point. You don’t keep a man with a baby out this fucking late – it was just bad manners, frankly.
“E’sy home, please,” Daisy pleads, like the word itself will speed along her request.
“Two shakes, love,” Eggsy assures her. “We’ll be home in two shakes. I’ll buy myself a pack of fags, alright, and you can get a sucker. Baby’s first vice, and all.”
He snickers at his own bad joke. Daisy likes the word that means lollipop, though, and hums, pressing her sweet face into Eggsy’s neck. She’s sucking her thumb – they really did need new dummies – and Eggsy can feel where her spit is collecting on his collar. Yuck.
He zips up the backpack, satisfied with its contents. He slings it over his shoulder and hikes Daisy up on his hip for the millionth time that day. She walked just fine – just not for long. It was hardly worth the trouble of getting her shoes on for her to take a dozen steps and then demand “up, E'sy.”
“And tomorrow, we can pull out the finger-paints,” Eggsy murmurs, stroking Daisy’s fine blonde hair. Her barrette is lopsided, knocked around at the park today. Eggsy adjusts it with his free hand, and goes to stand in line to get cigarettes. “Would you like that, darlin’? Yeah?”
Before Eggsy can get up to the counter, though, someone grabs hold of his shoulder. Eggsy immediately whips around, launched into attack mode, thinking of twenty ways he can kill whoever’s touched him without needing to set Daisy down.
“Sorry to startle you,” the someone says softly. It’s an older bloke – fit, but older. Eggsy’s face burns. The guy's hot, and Eggsy was about to murder him! “But I’d like to purchase your items for you. The ones you’re, erm – holding, in your pack.”
Eggsy’s mind goes blank. Bruv saw him stealing, and wants to pay for it? He – what? Is he out of his fucking gourd?
“What the fuck?” Eggsy blurts, covering Daisy’s ears. She’s half-asleep by this point, but still. He can’t understand this sudden situation he’s in. “Who are you?”
“I’m no one,” the kind stranger says. “No one you know, anyway. I was an aisle over and I heard you talking to your daughter. I’m being a Good Samaritan. Don’t feel obligated to accept in any way – I will leave you to your evening if you’re not interested.”
Eggsy’s jaw drops. “You’re not gonna call the cops?”
The stranger shakes his head. “None of my business. I don’t like the police, and I don’t meddle.”
Fuck, this was insane. “I’m Gary – but call me Eggsy. Eggsy Unwin.”
“Harry Hart,” the stranger says, and they shake. Daisy stirs.
“Shh, baby girl,” Eggsy murmurs immediately, taking his hand from the greeting to rub Daisy’s back.
“How old?” Harry Hart asks, smiling. Daisy was a sweet child just to look at, dark lashes flush against her ruddy cheeks. Eggsy can’t help but feel a little proud – yes, he did have the sweetest, loveliest baby sister in the whole world.
Eggsy smiles back, though he’s suddenly aware of the gap in his teeth, the holes in his jeans, the scuff in his winged Adidas. Daisy is dressed to the nines, though – all her clothes are new and heavy for winter.
“Two and a half,” he answers. “And she’s my sister, yeah?”
“Oh, my apologies,” Harry says. “You’re just babysitting, then?”
“Nope,” Eggsy says, unashamed. “Legal guardian. Mumsy left us, and Daisy’s da is a… word I can’t say. She’s all mine, now.”
Harry looks startled, but strangely, pleased. “You’re very responsible,” he murmurs. “Not many people your age want to be parents.”
Eggsy knows it’s the truth, but he still can’t believe it. Daisy is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “Well,” he says. “I’m not everybody.”
“You certainly aren’t,” Harry agrees. “May I pay for your items, Eggsy?”
“Alright, bruv,” Eggsy agrees. “I think you’re nutty for it – but go ahead.”
“My pleasure,” Harry says. “All I ask for in exchange is your number.”
And then, predictably, Eggsy’s jaw drops for the second time.