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Merlin is sure that out of all of the bloody agents, Roxy is by far the most reasonable one. This theory is supported by more and more evidence the longer they work together, but the final point that convinces him is her expression when they visit Eggsy in the infirmary after the bastard has nearly gotten himself blown up.
It’s eerily quiet, just the hum of the machines making soft sounds. And then there’s Harry, who quickly and very guiltily jerks his hand away from Eggsy’s as they come in. Merlin just raises an eyebrow but says nothing, instead checking the still unconscious Galahad’s vitals.
“How is he holding up?” Harry asks, and Merlin can reassure him that he’ll be alright and awake in a few days. He sends his friend home for a shower and some food and so that Roxy can have some time with Eggsy. She curtly thanks him and doesn’t say anything about Harry’s little stunt, but he knows she noticed from how she looks at Arthur’s retreating back. If nothing else this will be an excellent way of testing her discretion, he thinks.
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Eggsy wakes up, and nothing happens. There is no confession, no flirting, no intimate touching. “Bloody idiots,” Merlin mutters under his breath, and goes back to his tech. He’s not going to play matchmaker for some agents, be they his friends or not. He’s got better things to do.
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But the lack of flirting doesn’t stay. Not as such. It morphs into incredible pining and longing looks without either Eggsy or Harry doing anything about it, and their distraction gets them into a tight spot on a joined mission.
They’re trapped in a closet - and isn’t that fucking cliché, Merlin thinks – of a drug lord’s home while said drug lord is cleaning his weapon collection in the room next to them. There’s nothing Merlin can do except tell them to wait until he’s done and leaves. So he makes himself a cup of tea and tries to ignore the awkward silence between the two agents, and especially tries to ignore Eggsy’s laboured breathing when he shifts against Harry.
Just as he goes to sit back down and resign himself to watching their pining up close Roxy comes in, grabbing a chair and sitting down next to him without any invitation on his part. Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Roxy just looks at the screen and sighs, pulling her knees up under herself and getting comfortable. She ignores his pointed look and looks straight ahead as he sits down as well.
“I’ve never understood it,” she says after a while of watching the feed. Merlin looks up from the feed showing their still busy drug lord, giving her a questioning look.
“Romantic relationships. That sort of thing.” She nods at the screen where Harry and Eggsy are… really quite close to each other now. Closer than the closet would require. “I’m aromantic,” she says, still not looking at him. “That means-“
“I know what that means,” Merlin cuts in, and that gets her attention. They stare at each other for a moment, and Roxy looks just as stunned as Merlin feels.
“You too?” She asks, more cautious than he’s ever seen her, and he nods.
“Me too.”
A ping on the screen alerts them to the drug lords leaving, and that’s their conversation over with for now. Merlin safely guides his agents out of the house and to their extraction point, and sighs when they refuse to meet each other’s eyes. Next to him Roxy snickers, and he can’t quite stop smiling himself. It’s nice to know he’s not alone.
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The closet incident hasn’t helped, it seems. Whenever he sees Harry and Eggsy at HQ together there’s a careful distance between them, and he swears he will lock them in a dressing room together until they kiss if they don’t resolve it themselves, and soon.
What he needs is for them to realise how ridiculous they’re being, so he asks Arthur into his office under a false pretence to have a heart to heart with him.
Harry looks tired, but other than that perfectly fine. He’s holding a manila folder, approaching the desk to hand it over, but Merlin holds up a hand and shakes his head. “Nah-ah. Sit down. You’re not here because of the bloody file.”
Harry raises an eyebrow but sits, leaning back in his chair with a questioning look. “Why am I here, then? I distinctly remember you nagging me about this for almost a week.”
“A man’s got to have his priorities,” Merlin says, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk. “You and I need to have a chat about Eggsy.” Eggsy, not Galahad, and apparently Harry knows precisely what this is going to be about, because he sighs and looks away.
“I consider you a friend, Merlin. I know you’re more observant than is good for me. Can we please let this lie?”
“I am observant, aye, you aren’t, or you’d have already made a move instead of torturing me with your sad puppy glances,” Merlin growls, because really, a man has his limits, and his are very close to being reached. “Don’t start about your age difference, or how you’re his mentor, Harry. He’s smitten with you. It’s almost disgusting.”
Harry blinks, folding and unfolding his hands. “Any affection he may feel for me is platonic, surely. A young man’s admiration for his mentor.”
Merlin feels the distinct urge to let his head thud against the table desktop, but he’s not going to risk a headache for dramatics. “He seems to have an admiration for your arse. And your lips. And the entire rest of you.” At Harry’s blank look Merlin sighs heavily. “What a spy you make. Just talk to him already, because if you don’t I’ll make Roxy have a similar little talk with Eggsy. Your choice.” And with that he shoos Harry out of his office and goes back to work.
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Threats apparently do help. It takes them another week and a few very pointed glares from Merlin, but when they turn up at HQ after the weekend their shoulders touch as they walk. Merlin is also quite sure he can spot a bit a of a limp in Eggsy’s gait, and he heaves a relieved sigh. Fucking finally.