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“Actually, Gayle, my dear, Wagner really did revolutionize the art form. See…” the older Welsh man sitting beside you continued to drone. Hearing your cover name for this mission on the man’s lips felt so strange. You were counting down the seconds until the lights of the Opera House would dim and you could pretend the man beside you didn’t exist. He was inconsequential.
This mission was about the woman who owned the box, the raven-haired temptress in the red tiered gown currently chatting with the Culture Secretary. But you couldn’t get a word in with her, not yet at least. The opera was about to start and you needed more than a few fleeting seconds in her presence.
The lights began to dim and with a polite nod you moved to take a seat in the corner of the box, the one with the best vantage point of the theater and the best view of your hostess.
“Thought that man was never going to stop,” Merlin said into your ear. His voice startled you only a little but once you regained yourself, you laughed lightly into the air.
You yawned in exaggeration for the benefit of the man on the other end of your communications. Now it was him who was laughing.
“Wish I could say I was surprised. Men who find such joy in the sound of their own voices never know how to charm a woman,” he scoffed against your ear. You heard him take a sip of his tea where he sat in his office at the tailor shop.
You reached up to rub your ear, doing your best to cover your mouth from the party with you so they wouldn’t catch your words.
“And how might you charm a woman, Merlin?” you asked, hearing the flirtation in your voice and almost immediately hating yourself for it. Your crush on your tech specialist was something you did your best to keep hidden. Having your heart in things was against the rules of Kingsman. And having your heart broken was not something you were willing to endure. But some days, like today, you felt yourself slipping and fawning over the man with his deep voice and calming presence.
You heard him breath and take another sip of his beverage. But before he could respond, the lights dipped once again and stayed, denoting the start of the performance. And to your great displeasure, as everyone took their seats, the Wagner fanatic just so happened to be right beside you.
As some very dramatic scene between Tristan and Isolde took place before you marking the end of the first act, and after about the fifteenth interruption from the obnoxious man beside you explaining something about the history of the production. a strange flicking occurred in the corner of your vision. It happened again and soon the low murmur you were used to hearing from Merlin’s quiet typing or the white noise of the fireplace that burned in the corner of his study was gone completely. You tried your best to hum in response to the man beside you, using the tone of voice that normally had Merlin speaking up into your ears something about an all-clear, but no voice came.
You removed your glasses, pretending to clean them, and felt a heat at the corner that burned your thumb. You pulled your finger away in pain. Something short-circuited.
With a deep sigh, you placed your glasses back on your face and continued to observe the production. This mission would be a solo one.
But as act two began to come to an end, you were yearning for the man on the other end of the line. The Welsh man was still droning on, clearing thinking he was winning you over with his expertise. You couldn’t hear a word your hostess was saying. And even worse, the love story before you was making you weak and soft. You were in love, you knew, but you had never been willing to put it into words. A gorgeous, kind, intelligent man who would sacrifice anything for his friends and the good of others had captured your heart. His jokes made you laugh unlike anything else and his touch was…
You felt your breath hitch as a hand rested upon your shoulder. You knew those fingers, the callouses from small tinkering and the tapping of keys, strong and long and always open to you.
You turned to see the apologetic face of Hamish behind you. He was wearing a dark suit and a crisp white top, the type that showed off his broad shoulders so pleasantly, and was holding in his hands another pair of glasses. With a smile, you reached out to take them.
But just as your hands touched, the lights lifted once more and everyone began to stand to enjoy intermission.
“And who is this?” the man beside you asked as he watched you hold hands with the mysterious dapper gentleman.
Hamish looked to you for your guidance, clearly not expecting to be caught.
“This is…” you began, moving your gaze to take in the handsome man before you. He smiled and you felt your cheeks heating.
“Hi,” Merlin began, extracting his hand from your shoulder to stretch it out to the nuisance before you, “Iain Murray, sir, Gayle’s—“
“Husband,” you spat, taking the glasses and sitting them in your lap before grabbing at the hand beside you, interlocking your fingers. “This is my husband, Iain.”
Merlin quirked an eyebrow at you but didn’t offer protest. After a moment of his gaze boring into you, he interlocked his fingers in turn and squeezed.
“Yes,” Hamish said, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Oh, I should have realized a woman who makes for such enjoyable company would be spoken for. I hope I didn’t offend,” the old man said in your direction with a rouge upon his cheeks, confirming to you that his droning on had been intended as a form of seduction.
You stood with the help of Hamish’s hand and tucked yourself quickly under his strong arm. The feel of the weight upon your shoulder almost made you sigh.
“Not at all. I found your conversation quite… informative.”
The man waved a dismissive hand in your direction and offered his seat up to your “spouse,” opting for a free one still available in the row behind.
As everyone began to make their leave to refresh their drinks or enjoy a good stretch of the legs during the intermission, Hamish took the seat beside you, not once letting go of your hand.
“I guess you no longer need those,” he said, gesturing with his chin to the glasses in your lap.
“Apparently not,” you said, tossing them still upon your face. When Hamish raised an eyebrow at you, you added, “But you went to all the trouble.”
He laughed, deep and belly-filled, the kind that you often heard from his lips outside of missions.
“That I did,” he confirmed, before leaning over and whispering, “Husband? Really?”
You swatted playfully at his arm which only made him chuckle. He held your hand in his own, swinging it lightly in the space between your seats. After a minute or two, as the seats around you began to fill again, he let go and turned to face the stage.
With a huff, you reached out and grabbed his hand again.
“We’re supposed to be married, remember,” you scolded as you leaned by his ear, “You’ve got to act like you like me.”
As you pulled away, Hamish tightened his grip on your hand, keeping you close. He turned to met your eyes, his gaze intense and something shining behind his irises that you couldn’t comprehend. You watched him bite his lip just as little, his front teeth peaking out for just a moment, and you felt the air leave your lungs at the simple gesture.
He tugged on your hand and pulled you once more towards him.
“How are you so sure this isn’t how I’d behave if I liked someone?” he asked, his voice husky.
You laughed, “Because this is how you act with me every day!”
You had expected him to laugh too, but he only shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Once he regained himself, he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed the knuckles there, the skin on your hand burning at even such a simple and gentlemanly form of contact.
As your heart rate was reaching peak levels, you felt his breath still upon your hand. His gaze was like a light drawing you in. But then the lights fell once more and you managed to pull yourself away.
The entire third act, you never once lost hold of each other’s hands.
The rest of the mission went on without a hitch. Hamish accompanied you as you sweet-talked the woman in red. She shared with you after much clever wording the location of her parent’s hidden ski chalet and a few names of recent associates. He was a perfect gentleman, the perfect partner, just as you always suspected. Your heart was full at the feeling of pretending, just for a moment, that you had this man by your side.
And as you walked out into the crisp London night, still hand in hand, Hamish stopped you upon the stone steps.
“It seems I’ve failed to tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”
Your eyes looked down to take in the gorgeous gown Kingsman had designed for you, an iridescent teal with overlays of floral and lace that made you feel like a work of art. You bunched the fabric into your hands, pulling at the draping skirts.
“This thing is gorgeous, isn’t it.”
“I didn’t say it,” Hamish whispered, “I said you.”
Immediately, your eyes pulled up to meet his, taking in the swirling hazel before you. You’d drown right now if such a sea could take you. But alas, you felt your breath stabilize as his fingers ran over your knuckles.
With a chuckle, you tried your best to recover, “You can drop the husband act now, Merlin. No one’s watching.”
You began to walk again down the rest of the stairs, but Hamish’s hand held strong to yours, stopping your movement.
He sighed, “Y/N,” under his breath. He hadn’t called you by your real name in quite some time, maybe since your recruitment.
“Ha-Hamish?” you said, the name so foreign to your tongue but not to your mind.
At the sound of the syllables against your lips, you heard him breath, though it was more like a growl than anything, some rumble deep inside of him like an earthquake coming forth, something strong and kinetic under the surface, just waiting for the moment to erupt.
Before you could even react, his hands had found the base of your neck and his mouth was upon yours. Immediately, everything around you disappeared. The streets grew silent, the world dark. Every part of your body tingled as you felt the softness of his lips engulf yours. His movements were slow but strong and purposeful. You opened up to him, pressing forward to enjoy the taste the mint and citrus that you would now forever associate with the man. Together, you melted so perfectly. You wondered how you ever lived not knowing this joy.
A sound of sirens pulled you from your daze, but you did not leave Hamish’s embrace. His fingers continued to run the length of your neck, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His lips still ghosted against yours, so tempting but somehow forbidden.
“Still wondering how I might charm a woman?” he asked.
You fell against his chest, wanting any excuse to keep this closing going. “I think I’m beginning to get an idea.”
Hamish held you still, whispering against your ear, “Silly woman, how I love you.”
If you hadn’t heard them yourself, you wouldn’t have believed he’d said them. But then he whispered those words once more, “I love you,” before kissing your forehead and everything you knew or thought you knew disappeared with them.
You sighed against him but before you could respond in kind, Merlin pulled away.
“Let’s get you home, aye?” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to guide you down the stairs, “And I’ll repair the glasses for you. I think I know exactly what went wrong with those. I was adding in the latest–”
“Hamish?” you asked, the word coming out much smoother now that you knew the sound was a welcomed one.
“Yes?” your companion asked, stopping his walking to meet your gaze once more.
You took a breath and said the words you knew would change everything, put your life at risk but also, you felt a flutter of excitement filling your stomach at the thought, giving you something worth living for; “I love you, too.”