Work Text:
“Never thought I’d be spending my last moments on earth with this sonuvabitch,” Eggsy muttered gravely. Despite the comment not being for anyone other than himself circumstances ensured his companion heard him crystal clear from his place in the front seat.
“Someone is certainly in a mood.”
Eggsy bristled instantly. “Yeah, no fuckin’ kiddin’,” Eggsy snapped, trying his best to meld into the backseat, as far away from Percival as possible.
Christ, of all the people to be buried alive with he just had to get stuck with Percival. Why couldn’t Arthur have sent him on this “low risk” mission with Roxy or- God, he’d even take Merlin at this point!- or even Harry-selective-hearing-because-ha!-I’m-bloody-Arthur Hart! At least with any of them he could have spent his time waiting to run out of oxygen by getting his gab on, invent a few new ways of annoying someone to death, or get a bloody fantastic shag in before he died like an utter chump.
Alongside Percival.
It weren’t like Percival was a bad guy per se, nor was it exactly his fault for the very shit circumstances they’d found themselves in. Truth be told it’d actually been a ton of other crap that had Eggsy in such a foul mood.
It’d all started with Harry acting like a petulant child earlier that morning because of some flippant comment Eggsy’d made the night before about geriatrics and their young lovers visiting them in the nursing home.
That’d quickly come round to bite Eggsy in the arse when he’d been summoned and placed on assignment with Percival – who, at the time, had been in just as sour a mood as Eggsy.
On top of that their so-called “low risk mission” had gone from boring but manageable to worse when MI6’s 007 showed up and - as starry-eyed as Eggsy had been at seeing James freaking Bond, in 4D no less! - he’d cursed the man to hell and back when he had (in this exact order) gotten Eggsy shot through the goddamn hand, tripped the bad guys’ trap in order to save the day (a trap that happened to be located directly below their Kingsman issued car) before the utter tosser got them buried alive!
The car- with Eggsy and Percival in it- had fallen into a deep pit that then started to fill with sand that apparently even someone as legendary as Bond was unable to stop on the account he’d found himself suddenly fighting off assailants coming at him from every direction.
The final thorn in the side was when Merlin had been giving them various ways of conserving air until evac arrived when MI6’s quartermaster, Q, had apparently hacked passed Kingsman security and jumped directly into their channel to explain the situation (rough translation: lay into Merlin for sending Kingsman into a clear MI6 matter) before going on to issue an apology (“007 will do his absolute best to apprehend the men responsible as well as minimize casualties but, our apologies, no promises whether or not he gets that done before your agents suffocate, old man”).
Of course Merlin had then been so enraged that he went on to argue with Q.
Over the comm system.
For fifteen minutes.
All the while Eggsy and Percival were quickly losing their patience as well as the scant few minutes of precious air they had left!
It hadn’t been long before both Eggsy and Percival had gotten sick of the incessant squabbling and removed their glasses to settle more comfortably into the front (Percival) and back (Eggsy) of the car to await their salvation. Or their gravestones.
Which brought them to the now: three tires of air depleted as both agents practiced breathing techniques to conserve air (one of which had a hole beneath his crudely bandaged hand).
And as any professionally trained scientist and or psychologist could confirm, the lack of oxygen did absolutely nothing for either of the knight’s tempers as yet another argument broke out between them.
“I can’t believe Rox vouched for you,” Eggsy seethed.
“I believe that’s my line, Galahad. When Roxanne assured me that you really weren’t the wankstain I’d initially thought you to be-”
“Oh that’s rich, I’m the wankstain, am I? This comin’ from the great and practical Percival who had the audacity of –”
Ten minutes later was when the weeping began and “Please, call me Alistair” and “and that’s why I have daddy issues”, when Perc- Alistair and Eggsy reached something of an understanding.
Whether that revelation was due to the last bit of air from the spare or the fact they were about to die that had them making up so quickly, neither would know (just yet) as they both passed out.
Moments later the sun began to shrine brokenly through the grains of sand that was being cleared above them, almost as if on command.
They woke up hours later, each attached to machines and IVs in the safety of Kingsman’s Medical Wing.
Apparently that was when Merlin and Harry thought it best to break the news to the two “room mates”.
Both men stared at Merlin and Arthur for a few silent minutes.
“My apologies. Could you repeat that, Arthur?” Percival said, politeness strained.
“I said-”
“You mean you fucking STAGED the whole thing!” Eggsy demanded heatedly, his pulse spiking, heart monitor beeping in whining protest.
“Yes, we did. It was the only way to teach the two of you to work together despite your differences; you were the last pair of agents that failed teaming up successfully time and time again,” Harry answered, smirk evident in his tone. The smug bastard was so pleased with himself.
“But you-!” Eggsy tried, falling short.
“To be fair we didn’t expect the mob to actually show up,” Merlin added. “Nor for MI6 to have been following their movements so closely.”
“But I got shot!”
Merlin sighed. “In the hand, Galahad. That’s-“
“IT’S MY WANKING HAND-“
“-hardly something I ever wanted to know. Christ.”
As Merlin walked out of the ward, head pounding and Harry hot on his heels suddenly complaining about the injury Eggsy had sustained, he cursed Q and his ridiculous, meddlesome suggestions of “team building” to hell.
Twice.
The next day Alistair and Eggsy revised their heartfelt understanding, amending that they’d work together cohesively in order to make sure everyone else was absolutely miserable.
The end.