I regret only that I have not the words to tell you how I love you, how my heart beats for the times we are together.

Harry Hart was not, by the by, used to receiving such unbridled affection. Even taking into account his strict upbringing, the society in which he was raised and his profession were poor environments to foster honest emotion.

The letters were always unsigned, always in beautiful calligraphy, always slipped under the door to his office at seemingly random times and days. Perhaps that was why the sender felt able to bear their heart with such candor.

This was the fourth.

In truth, he had a rather small pool of the population to consider for the culprit - they worked in Kingsman, after all. But Kingsman employed more people than it seemed, and Harry wasn't so anxious about the letters as to stalk around trying to find out who was sending them.

Yet.

The mere thought of you takes me to the clouds, and poetry rings in my ears at your voice. You know it, I'm sure, Byron's most famous, 'And all that's best of dark and bright.'

Harry read the latest one over again. He'd lost count now of how many times he'd done so. The words seemed lodged in his brain, for all that he tried to put them from his mind.

I hope you'll forgive me these silly things, these letters that do so poor a job of encompassing what you mean to me.

Harry was just re-reading the last lines when the door to his office swung open.

Because Eggsy was also a spy now, his eyes snapped to the letter. Only years of Kingsman training kept Harry from doing something conspicuous like jamming the letter into his desk drawer or setting it on fire.

Just a tick too late Eggsy's casual attitude returned. Harry wasn't fooled - he was interested. "Why are you always in here?" Eggsy asked, sauntering in, catching up the sunlight on his skin as he perched on the corner of Harry's desk.

"A spy's training is never finished. There's plenty to be done when we're not in the field."

"If you say so." Eggsy tapped the closest edge of the paper. "What's this then?"

"It's a letter."

He rolled his eyes. "I can see that, Haz. What I wanna know is why you looked like you got caught with your hand down your trousers when I walked in."

Harry sighed, neatly re-folding the pages in as his espionage instincts choose an odd moment to seize him, and leaned back into his chair to better speak with Eggsy. "If you must know, it's a love letter."

Mirth flashed in Eggsy's eyes, his lips pulling into a grin as his perching turned into a lounge. "Yeah? You finally got yourself a sweetheart then?"

"No, not as such. They're anonymous."

"What really?" Eggsy scoffed. "Clingy move, that. Why can't she just come out and say it to your face?"

"Don't be silly, Eggsy." Harry felt a surge of misplaced protectiveness for his admirer and held the letter a bit more gently, trailing his gaze along the folded edge. "Not everyone can be so free with their emotions, on paper or in person. I might take him to dinner, if he ever reveals himself."

"He?" Eggsy's voice sounded less aloof at last. Harry misread it as interest. It was, in fact, fear.

A terrible habit he'd developed, which he liked to think of as educating but probably would have been more aptly named showing off, reared its head. He waved to the letter, smiling a bit at Eggsy's green-eyed gaze. "I'm no graphologist, but I can at least tell that much. It's easy enough to get a picture of whoever is writing them - imaginative, bold, and he quite means what he says."

"You can do that." Eggsy's voice was strangely flat, as if disbelieving, or hiding something else.

Harry gestured to the neatly-placed papers and books on various useful skills that adorned his desk, demurely triumphant. "A spy's training is never over."

A put-upon smile fought to grace Eggsy's features, but in the end a quiet intensity won out. "And it...doesn't bother you? That it's a bloke?"

Ah. "No." Harry replied, watching him.

"Oh." Eggsy might have looked aloof and unaffected, had he not been picking at a loose string in his torn jeans. But the sunny disposition he'd come in with returned, along with a rosy color in his cheeks. "Like the letters."

Harry relaxed, shrugging. "It's a generational thing."

Eggsy blinked. "Have you ever written one?"

"A few."

"Now that's something I'd like to see." Flicking a switch, Eggsy was all amusement and swagger again. He leered at Harry expectantly, and Harry huffed.

"Unfortunately, I haven't got any left. That's rather the point of a letter."

"Too bad. Guess you won't catch your culprit with one then."

"Ye of little faith," Harry replied easily. "I'm a spy, darling. Now, did you need something?"

Eggsy, who'd stilled in the process of sliding off the desk, took a moment to reply.

"Ye...ah. I was comin' to let you know Merlin's got me going on a mission startin' in three days. Be gone for about a week."

"I'll make reservations for a celebratory dinner," Harry smiled and Eggsy finished hopping off the desk.

"Pick someplace you like." Eggsy said, and he was still talking just a hair slower than usual. "And let me treat you for once, yeah?"

Warmth seeped through Harry, though the sun had long since trekked past his chair for the day. "If you insist, though I might point out that makes it rather less celebratory."

Eggsy stuck his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "Not to me. I gotta dash an' get ready for the mission."

Harry waved him off with a polite farewell, thumbing absently at the letter as he contemplated another read-through. At the door Eggsy paused, glanced between him and the paper, and bit his lip, before heading out.

The letters continued, and so did the effort Harry was forced to expend in pretending to be unaffected. He had the sixth one dusted for prints, but he'd assumed it a pointless endeavor even before the disappointing results had come back. His admirer did work for spies, after all.

They dropped off after that, but what they lost in frequency they made up in vivacity.

I watched the petals fall from a cherry tree today, and I thought of you. They've nothing to do with you really, I simply always think of you.

Harry had absently sat in the chair just inside his office to read his latest letter, brazenly slipped under his door while he was in his office. He hadn't been fast enough to catch whoever had delivered it, which either narrowed his pool or indicated a light-footed assistant.

I love you like the ocean loves the moon. I sway to your every move, but can only reflect your ethereal shine. Oh, how you move me.

Harry sincerely hoped this wasn't some sort of plot to get him dating cooked up by the tech branch. He refused to examine why he hoped that past the obvious. Harry finished the letter and determinedly put it away with the others - nine now, in total.

He checked Eggsy's status - released from the infirmary that morning, nothing but a few bumps and a concussion. Harry had been to see him, found him bright and happy and elated with another job well done, promised to re-schedule their celebratory dinner when Merlin insisted he stay for observation.

Harry found himself staring at the newest letter again, letting his mind travel as it would. Eggsy had told him about how beautiful Japan was, gesturing with ink-stained fingers to denote springtime flowers and wild hair and reserved attitudes-

Harry almost dropped the paper.

Ink stains.

Eggsy tucked himself a little tighter into a ball on the sofa by the fire. He'd been oscillating wildly for about an hour now between elation, adoration, and paralyzing terror.

Harry knew it was him.

Oh, Harry didn't say as much in words, but he said plenty besides so he really didn't need to. Didn't even need to sign the letter Eggsy had bent little waves into the sides of with his fingers, blocks and pages of bold, sweeping calligraphy. Eggsy wondered what it said about Harry, if the perfect, beautiful letters held the secrets of his life, or the spaces between them painted a picture of who he was. To Eggsy, they were simply fitting. Right. He read what they said again, and again, and again.

Darling, I have seen you, watched you as a crowd watches a dancer, rapt. You, a rose in full bloom, your petals as tempting as your thorns, while I, In twilight, fade. I dared not join, dared not touch.

Eggsy worried his lip between his teeth. Roxy wasn't answering her goddamn phone, and he could only hide so long in the sitting room.

There is a balcony on the second floor of my house. You know of it, I'm sure. From it you can see for at least a mile. When winter comes and muffles London in soft purity, reflecting all that's bright, I had hoped you might watch the sunset with me.

As if on cue, the door snicked open as he finished the letter again. Eggsy looked up over the back of the couch to Harry, calmly shutting the door behind him.

"Eggsy," He greeted, his voice silken.

Eggsy took a breath, shoved his heart back into his chest where it belonged, and hopped over the back of the couch.

"Should've known you'd catch me eventually. Got to pushin' my luck after the fourth one." He said, coming to a stop less than an inch from Harry. Harry leaned down a fraction, bringing them yet closer, his eyes deep and warm. Eggsy waved the letter gently. "This. A lesson?"

"No."

"Good."

Eggsy rocked up onto his toes and captured Harry's lips in a kiss.