Curt had committed many crimes. Well, they weren’t really crimes. They would be for any normal person, but not for him, because he was a spy, and he had a license to kill. He’d used that license more often than he would’ve liked. That was kind of strange; he’d always hoped to be a spy, partly because he could kill all of the bad guys. And now he got to do that, and he didn’t like it. He preferred to just go into a room, steal some papers, and head out. No killing involved. But “no killing involved” was a very rare phenomenon in his job.
So yes, he’d committed many crimes. Because even if he was legally allowed to kill people when he needed to, every time he did felt like a crime. He thought about that a bit too much. About how some children wouldn’t have a father anymore because of him, about how some brothers wouldn’t have a sister anymore. And of course that bothered him a lot. So he was very lucky when he got assigned to a mission with Owen Carvour, who managed to stop him from thinking about the people he’d have to kill, and make him start thinking about the people he’d saved.
Owen was a special person. Curt knew that right after their first mission. They’d had to go undercover, and Owen did a great job. Curt wasn’t much of an actor, but Owen covered up every mistake he made and made them seem believable. Needless to say, the mission went well, thanks to Owen.
As the two became friends, Curt told Owen about his insecurities, and how much he disliked killing people - even if he had to. Of course Owen didn’t make it all better all of a sudden, but he certainly made it hurt a bit less. The same thing happened the other way around: Owen was homesick very easily, and at first he was afraid that Curt would call him weak for crying. But when Curt discovered that Owen had been hiding his homesickness, he immediately reassured him that it was completely normal. He missed his mom too, he told Owen, and he made Owen promise that he’d tell Curt if he needed his comfort. At some point, Curt started requesting one room for both him and Owen, because the latter often woke up at night feeling lonely.
It was on one of those evenings where they were sleeping in the same room that Curt committed his first real crime.
Curt had fallen asleep about half an hour ago when he was woken up by Owen’s soft sobs. At first, he didn’t understand what was going on. Then, when he became fully conscious and opened his eyes, he saw Owen sitting on the other bed. He was obviously trying to stay quiet so he wouldn’t wake up Curt, but Curt was glad that he did wake up. He didn’t want Owen to go through this alone.
He got up and slowly walked towards Owen, not wanting to startle him. Owen didn’t seem to notice him until he sat down next to him. He looked up at Curt, surprised. “What are you doing here?” he sniffed. “You should be asleep. Go back to bed.”
Curt shook his head. “I’m not going to sleep until you are too, Owen. Why didn’t you wake me up? You know I don’t want you to be alone at times like this.”
Owen shrugged. “Didn’t want to bother you.”
Curt sighed. He scooted closer to Owen and wrapped an arm around him, smiling slightly when he noticed Owen melting into the touch. “Owen, you’re not bothering me. I only want to help you. You know that, right?” Owen shrugged again, seemingly not wanting to talk too much. He cuddled into Curt, like he wanted to disappear into him.
They just sat there for a minute. Curt was quite content with the situation, but then he noticed that Owen started to shake a bit, and he seemed to be crying again. Curt tightened his grip around him and took Owen’s hand with the hand that wasn’t hugging Owen. “What’s wrong?” he whispered. Owen pulled away a bit, just so he could talk without his voice being muffled by Curt’s shirt. “It’s just-I had a dream, about my mother, and-well, I suppose it was more of a nightmare, because she died, and-” he inhaled sharply and dove back into Curt’s chest. “I understand,” Curt said reassuringly.
Owen’s sobs died down again, and he sat up. “I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes still red. Curt squeezed the hand he was still holding. “Owen, you-” “No. You must think I’m weak, and-”
“Owen,” Curt said again, this time a bit more forceful, but still gentle. “You tell me that every time something like this happens, and what do I say every time?” Owen said nothing. “That’s right. You’re not weak. It’s perfectly normal for you to have this response to being separated from your family, and it doesn’t make you weak.” Like always, Owen didn’t seem to believe Curt, but he nodded anyways. He let himself fall back into Curt’s arms. “I love you,” he mumbled. Then, he seemed to stiffen up. He went to pull away, but Curt held him close to him. “It’s okay,” he said. Owen calmed down a bit. After a few moments, “I love you too.”
Owen tried to pull away again. This time, Curt let him. He saw that Owen was crying again, and he reached out to wipe one of the tears away. Before he could retract his hand, Owen placed his own on top of Curt’s. How cliche, Curt thought.
Owen stared at him in disbelief. “Do you really-” He didn’t continue, just looked at Curt. Curt nodded. Owen seemed to consider something. “Can I…” he finally asked, letting his fingers brush over Curt’s lips. Curt had never heard him that unsure of himself. Usually, he knew exactly what he was doing. Now, he seemed afraid that Curt might say no.
But of course he didn’t. He nodded quickly and in a second, Owen’s lips were on his. It was very quick and Curt wasn’t even sure if it had really happened. But those doubts were soon forgotten when he saw Owen’s eyes. They were full of disbelief and happiness and wonder and mostly love. Curt couldn’t suppress a smile, and Owen couldn’t either.
“I love you,” Curt said again. Saying it felt wonderful. Owen blinked a few times, and Curt saw the tears in his eyes. He leaned in again and they kissed again. This time it was a bit longer, a bit more loving than the first time. A lot less unsure.
Owen let out a breathy chuckle. “God, I love you,” he whispered. Curt pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” he said. Owen smiled at him and lay down, lovingly staring up at him. Curt lay down next to him, and Owen pulled the blanket over them. “I love you,” he whispered once again, seeming amazed that he could now say it. Curt moved closer to him and nuzzled into his chest. He felt Owen wrap his arms tightly around him and went to sleep more peacefully than ever.
The next few years, he committed crimes like that whenever he saw Owen. He didn’t regret it. He loved Owen and Owen loved him, and he was not going to let some stupid law stop them from loving each other. Of course they both knew that they were risking a lot by doing this, but they didn’t care as much as they probably should.
On November first, 1954, they went on their twelfth mission since the first time they’d said “I love you.” Owen said it was an anniversary, Curt said it wasn’t. After all, twelve isn’t really an anniversary-number like five, or ten. But Owen said it was because he liked the number twelve and honestly? Curt was fine with that. It gave him a chance to be extra clingy.
But it didn’t go as well as they’d hoped. The mission was quite simple, really: go to a party, grab some files, done. But Owen was too excited for the anniversary to notice when Curt messed up his cover, and thanks to Curt’s nonexistent acting skills, they were found out and Curt was captured. Luckily for them, Owen got away and saved Curt, but Curt had been shot and they’d need to stay in a safehouse for a while.
“How terrible,” Owen teased, carrying his bag into the safehouse, “stuck here with you for an entire month.” Curt jokingly glared at him. “Oh, you love it.” Owen paused what he was doing to look at Curt. “Yeah, I do.”
Curt smiled. “I love you.” Owen dumped his bag in the corner of the room. He flopped onto the bed Curt was sitting on and pecked his lips. “I love you too.”