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The streets of Yharnam are too dangerous at night; even for a seasoned Hunter like Eggsy. He’s a relatively young Hunter—only twenty-five— but what he lacks in years he makes up for in skill and natural talent.

Still, the human-turned-monster townspeople who rove the streets with pitchforks are troublesome even for him. Especially the ones who wield fire or shotguns. Eggsy really hates digging bullets out— they hurt like a bitch and make a helluva mess. Besides, open wounds are not the best things to sport in a town ravished by a blood plague.

And feral werewolves.

Don’t get him started on the feral werewolves. At least the civilized ones ask before they bite. 

Needless to say, Yharnam is not the safest of hunting grounds but Blood Echoes are a precious commodity and the only currency worth dealing in— he can’t buy anything without the damn trophies.

Hence why Eggsy is out on a solo hunt.

Or… he thought he was on a solo hunt but the sharp, bladed-point of a threaded cane weapon just made itself known by digging into his shoulder. His dad would be disappointed in him dropping his guard like that. 

Eggsy moves to defend himself but the owner of the threaded cane ‘tsks’ him. Self-preservation has always been a talent of Eggsy’s so he lowers his weapon as a show of good faith.

“Clever boy,” his attacker murmurs appreciatively.

He’s gorgeous, the other hunter who has him at cane-point, with his fancy posh clothes and a heavy leather cloak that sits comfortably on his shoulders; all topped off with a tricorne hat perched at the perfect angle on his head.

This man has the face of a noble and not that of someone like Eggsy who was born and bred to be expendable— to be fodder for the beasts. 

“Little boys should retire to their homes at night as there are many dangers roaming these streets,” the Hunter’s voice is as posh as his clothes— crisp and sharp, too. 

Eggsy snorts. His apathetic response causes his new friend to tilt his head curiously. A motion reminisce of an inquisitive puppy or one of those civilized werewolves he was thinking about earlier. 

“You find danger amusing?” The man sounds intrigued. Curious about the defiant yet obviously pragmatic young man.

“Nah, not really. I fuckin’ know what th' dangers are but I’m still out here for a reason.” Eggsy takes the Hunter’s inquisitive nature as ‘not a threat’ and he brazenly bats the threaded cane away from his throat.

The other Hunter complies and drops his offensive stance as a courtesy. He hits the sharp end of the cane against the cobblestone beneath his feet which causes the cane to snap into a whip— the trick part of a Hunter’s trick weapon. Eggsy’s axe has its own tricks but he won’t be revealing them now.

“I assume you are a Hunter then,” the mysterious man tucks the whip away somewhere beneath his cloak. “May I ask where the Hunter’s Dream is here? I cannot seem to find it.” He is referring to the portal that leads from the plagued hunting grounds to the hub of commerce for the Hunters.

Eggsy shrugs. His initial reaction is to not  give up any information but the gentleman seems decent enough— he asked questions before he stabbed Eggsy too hard and that’s more than a lot of Hunters can say. “I can show ya… for a price.”

“These things always come with a price, my boy; regardless, I would be most appreciative. What do I owe you?”

“A kiss, yeah?” Eggsy knows he is playing with fire but that’s half the fun living life the way he does.

“A fair trade,” the gentleman’s response is almost warm—almost fond— which is not what Eggsy expected. Exact opposite, actually.

But Eggsy’s not one to take something for granted. With a playful grin, he leans forward to accept his reward and he’s not disappointed in the least. The gentleman is ready and willing for him. 

The Hunter brushes his thumb against the corner of Eggsy’s lips and then adjusts his hand so he can slide his curled forefinger beneath the young man’s chin in order to tilt his head up. Eggsy complies easily and allows himself to become an illusion of vulnerability. This affected stance causes the other Hunter to laugh low and dark— hungry for more than just a kiss.

The gentleman is clearly skilled; the press of his lips a searing touch which leaves Eggsy half-hard and panting for more. Eggsy leans back— he just needs a little space so he can remember how to breathe. Fuck, but that was the hottest kiss he’s ever had. Teeth and tongue, and the Hunter’s considerable attention— Eggsy already wants another.

Alas, he has a bargain to uphold.

“Hunter’s Dream is there a’ways.” He motions to a broken iron gate, half-obstructed by crates and barrels, to his left.

“That’a boy,” the hunter’s lowered voice resembles a low growl— a dark promise that causes Eggsy’s hair to stand on end. The Hunter notices Eggsy’s interest, of course, and he smiles.

Eggsy’s lips part invitingly and the Hunter's response is swift. He brushes his lips against Eggsy’s once more but it’s the barest of touches— more of a tease than an actual kiss. “Thank you, darling. Shall I see you again?”

Eggsy nods and licks his lips. He’s pleased to see the Hunter is affected by Eggsy’s blatant display— intense brown eyes track the motion of Eggsy’s tongue like a predator to prey. Yet neither of them move but the temptation is there; hanging between them like a cursed apple.

The younger of the two frowns when the Hunter takes his leave through the gate but Eggsy isn’t quite ready to see his new friend go. Not when he kisses like that. So he follows after the man for a step or two before he calls out to him. 

“Wait! I don’ even know your name, yeah?”

“Harry,” the Hunter responds. He touches two fingers to the lantern-shaped portal that will take him to Hunter’s Dream. “Harry Hart.”

“I’m Eggsy.”

“A pleasure.” Harry gives him a promising smile in return. Eggsy can feel in his bones and blood that he will see Harry Hart again.

And soon.