Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m thinkin’ of getting a tattoo”, Brandon said, two pints in.
It was his birthday and Eggsy, Jamal and he were in the Black Prince for a celebratory drink. Dean and his goonies were mercifully absent from the pub that evening. Probably out doing illegal shit, thought Eggsy. He never understood what his mum saw in that crook.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”, he asked doubtfully. “I mean, it’s permanent and all.”

Brandon shrugged. “Nothin’ wrong with that.”

“I think it’s cool, mate”, Jamal said with a grin. “But your mum’s gonna freak.”

“Nothin’ wrong with that, either.”

“So, what are you thinking of getting, then?”, Eggsy asked, steering the topic away from Brandon’s family troubles. The less said about that, the better.

“I dunno. Something small, like a butterfly or something.” Brandon looked a bit gloomy now that his mother had been brought up. He took a big gulp of beer.

“That’s cool”, Eggsy lied, ignoring the look incredulous Jamal gave him.

“Yeah?”, Brandon asked, cheering up a bit. “You think so?”

“I’m not drunk enough for this”, Jamal muttered with a slightly pained look and Eggsy grinned.

“Buy another round, then, we’re not getting out of this gracefully”, he whispered back.
Jamal got up wordlessly and ordered another round at the bar.

Sustained by more alcohol, Brandon went through all his design ideas, his eyes beginning to glaze over a little. “I really dunno if I want the butterfly just like that or sitting on something”, he finished, looking at his friends for help.

“You can’t ‘ave it sit somewhere”, Jamal said, trying hard not to slur his words. Prompted by Eggsy’s questioning look, he added, “butterflies can’t sit ‘cause they don’t ‘ave feet.”

“That aien’t true”, Eggsy protested. “Of course they ‘ave feet.”

“Nah, I’m tellin’ ya, they don’t ‘ave feet.”

“Why wouldn’t they ‘ave feet?”, Eggsy asked though he knew there was no point in arguing.

“ ‘cause they don’t”, Jamal said with the unfaltering logic of a drunk man.

Eggsy shook his head in disbelief and turned his attention back on Brandon.
“When are you planning on getting that tattoo, then?”

“I aien’t getting one without knowing if they have feet or not.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, the tattoo artist will probably know if they have feet.”
Now Eggsy felt like he certainly wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“Yeah, and what if they don’t?” Brandon’s gloomy mood was back. “I aien’t walking around with a wrong tattoo.”

“We’ll look it up before you go. You’re not getting that tattoo tonight anyway.”

“But I need to know”, Brandon pressed, the alcohol getting to him.

Eggsy stifled a sigh. Little Daisy made less of a fuss over things than his drunk mates.
“Alright, we’ll find out now.”

“And how are we gonna find out?”, Jamal asked, looking around. ”There’s no butterflies ‘ere.”

And no one in here is going to be much help either, Eggsy thought.
“Wasn’t there a bloke on telly the other day? Butterfly professor or something? Think we could ask that one?”

“Yeah but how are you gonna ask him?”, Jamal asked. “He’s not here, is he?”

“Number‘s got to be online, innit? Like on his university page or something?”

“You can’t find his page, you don’t even know his name or anything.”

Eggsy shrugged. “I’ll just google ‘butterfly professor London’.”

“That’s never gonna work.”

“One way to find out”, Eggsy said, pulling out his phone.
He typed the keywords into the search bar and clicked on the first result the search engine threw up. His phone opened the university page of one Professor Harry Hart, Lepidopterist. The picture showed a middle aged man with horn-rimmed glasses in a well-fitting suit. Eggsy recognised him instantly. He grinned at his friends.
“Found ‘im”, he said triumphantly.

Underneath the picture were details on how to contact Professor Hart. Eggsy clicked on the phone number, completely forgetting how late at night it was and that the number listed was probably a work phone.

“Think he’s gonna pick up?”

—

Harry’s phone rang and he looked at it warily. By rights he shouldn’t answer it. It was a work phone and it was far too late at night for anyone to justify contacting him in a work-related matter. Just because he was working late didn’t mean that others could pester him outside his office hours.
Then again, it had to be really important if anyone tried to reach him at this hour. And it wasn’t like he was getting anywhere with his work anyway.

He picked up the phone. “Harry Hart speaking.”

“Is this the butterfly professor?”, the excited and clearly intoxicated voice of a young man asked.

“Um...yes?”, Harry said slowly.

“Do butterflies have feet?”, the young man demanded, sounding even more excited.

“...yes”, Harry said again.

Harry could hear wild cheering at the other end, then someone seemed to remember that they were still on the phone to Harry.
“You’re the gov’ner, prof. Thanks a million.”

“Glad to have been of assistance”, Harry replied somewhat amused and replaced the receiver.

—

“Told ya, didn’t I?, Eggsy said, accepting another celebratory drink from Brandon. The gloomy mood had lifted off him and hadn’t returned again by the time they left the Black Prince to stagger home, laughing the whole way.

—

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Chapter Text

“Harry Hart speaking.”

“This is Eggsy…Unwin… Uhm,  I don’t know if you remember, but we spoke the other day? ‘bout butterflies ‘n all?”

“I remember.”

“So yeah, we was wondering if you’d like to join us for a drink? Brandon wants to show you the tattoo.”

“I’d be delighted”, Harry said, taking down the time and place where they wanted to meet.
—

As soon as Eggsy laid eyes on Professor Harry Hart, he regretted having invited him. Everything about the bloke screamed entitled posh upper-class; from the bespoke suit, complete with the umbrella hanging from one arm to the - he could not not believe his eyes - golden signet ring on his right hand. Why Harry had accepted an invitation from what he probably thought to be a bunch of working-class dafties who had drunkenly called him one night, was beyond him.

When they shook hands, Eggsy caught a whiff of expensive aftershave. To his surprise, Harry introduced himself simply as ‘Harry Hart’, leaving out any academic or possibly hereditary titles. He followed them into the pub, not hesitating once to sit at a beer-stained table. Eggsy was suddenly painfully aware of how shabby the Black Prince looked.

Harry offered to buy a round but Brandon insisted that he was invited as a way of saying thanks and Harry dropped the matter without a fuss. He made polite and unforced conversation, seemingly oblivious to the reservations of the others, and Eggsy couldn’t help but admire him for that. He would have clamped up immediately.

 Brandon brought back their drinks and they drank to his tattoo which he then proudly showed to Harry. Eggsy had to admit, it didn’t look as shit as he had thought it would. Harry talked amiably to Brandon, asking how he had come to want a tattoo, why he had chosen this particular design and what it was actually like to get a tattoo done. He also commented on the butterfly itself, told them a little about the species, when it had been discovered and what made it special. Only when the topic of Brandon’s tattoo had been thoroughly exhausted, did the conversation move on to other things.

“Bloody hell”, Jamal muttered at some point, just having noticed Harry’s signet ring. “Is that real?”

“Oh, yes”, Harry said conversationally, slipping the ring from his finger and handing it over to Jamal. “Family crest.”

Jamal turned it over in his hands in awe. “Do you use it to write letters ‘n’ stuff?”

Harry looked faintly amused. “That was before my time. It’s quite useless these days.”

“Why wear it then?”, Eggsy asked and Harry looked a little surprised.

“It has sentimental value”, he replied after a moment and Eggsy took his cue not to pry any further.

“Did you always wanna be a butterfly professor?”, Brandon asked Harry and Eggsy had a hunch he didn’t know how to spell lepidopterist. Not that he could without looking it up.

“Sort of”, Harry said, unbothered by the personal question. He had bought them another round of drinks and was getting through his pint rather quickly without showing any signs of being drunk.
“It was either this or joining the army.”

Eggsy and Jamal exchanged a glance. Eggsy tried to picture Harry armed and in uniform but couldn’t see it. Harry looked at him and smiled mildly.

“I’m quite handy with a gun”, he said as if he had read Eggsy’s thoughts. “But I didn’t like it enough to make it my career. Studying butterflies allows me to travel a lot, looking for new species and so on.” Harry looked at Brandon’s tattoo for a moment, then said, “if I discover a new species, I’ll name it after you if you like.”

“Mate, if you do that, I’m gettin’ another tattoo of my butterfly”, Brandon said, barely concealing his excitement.

Harry smiled at him. “That’s settled, then.”

They stayed for a while longer, chatting about different things but turned down Harry’s offer of another drink. Harry said goodbye to Jamal and Brandon, promising to get in touch with them as soon as he found that butterfly, then walked back to his car with Eggsy.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come”, Eggsy said after a while.

“Oh?” Harry looked at him in surprise. “Why not?”

Eggsy shrugged. “Didn’t seem to be your scene.”

“It’s not where I’m usually found, no”, Harry admitted. “But I think I prefer it to stuffy academic circles any day.”
He reached his car and fished for the keys in his pocket. When he found them, he held out his hand for Eggsy to shake. “Thank you for the invitation. And the call. I had a lovely time with you and your friends.”

Eggsy shook his hand and nodded, not sure what to reply.
“Name one after me too, yeah?”

Harry smiled at him, already thinking about where to look for them. “Consider it done.”