In Living Colour

“Colour,” Arthur tells him once, an eyebrow raised warningly over a sniffer of brandy, “Is distracting.” And the Harry who is twenty-one only nods, and takes a sip of the grey brandy in his hand. He intends to be a Kingsman until it kills him. He cannot imagine colours will be a problem he will have to face.

And then, years later Harry is forty, and he knows that blood is red and that somewhere in London there is a fifteen year old boy with very blue eyes. Yes, he thinks, burying that thought deep, deep away where it belongs, he finally knows what Arthur meant.

Colour is distracting.

Harry's POV for my soulmate colour AU (prompted on tumblr by nikirari) Paint With All the Colours of the Wind. Companion piece to that fic, Eggsy/Harry and fix-it.