Chapter 1: november first (prologue)
i did not use a prompt for this (the used prompt will be in the summary of every chapter from now on)
i'm posting something without trigger warnings! :D
but every chapter will be quite short (probably 800-1300 words) because wow, writing fluff is hard
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.”
Chapter 2: november second
prompt: “Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”
am at home with possibly a mild concussion so i figured why not post the second chapter, luckily for me i've already written like four of these in october
Curt woke up. It was dark. That was the first thing he noticed. Although he could already barely see since his face was nuzzled into the crook of Owen’s neck, he didn’t sense any light inside the room. The only logical conclusion was that it was night and he’d woken up far too early. Great.
Curt carefully removed his face from Owen’s neck and opened his eyes, trying to become fully conscious. He knew that whenever he woke up this early there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, so he might as well try to actually wake up. He glanced quickly at his watch, which revealed that it was 3.41 in the morning, confirming his theory of him having woken up far too early. He sighed. He couldn’t get off the bed, because one of Owen’s arms was wrapped tightly around him, so there was nothing to do.
After about five minutes, Curt grew extremely bored.
After about seven minutes, he decided to wake Owen up. So he shook his arm as forcefully as he could without actually hurting him, and Owen woke up easily. At times like these, Curt was very happy that Owen was a light sleeper.
Owen rubbed his eyes while sitting up. “What’s wrong, love?” Curt smiled. His voice sounded incredibly cute when he’d just woken up.
Curt pouted at him. “I can’t sleep.” Owen lay back down, sighing. “Okay, what do you want me to do about it?”
Curt shrugged. “I dunno.” Owen laughed and shook his head. “Then why did you wake me up?” Curt didn’t respond, just lay down next to Owen. Owen immediately snuggled into his chest and he started playing with his hair. “Your presence is kinda relaxing, I guess,” he finally said. He moved Owen’s head so he was in kiss-range, and kissed him softly. Owen pulled away sooner than Curt would’ve liked, but he didn’t really mind, because Owen was embracing him and peppering kisses over his face and neck and shoulders. Curt couldn’t help but giggle a bit, and Owen laughed.
“You’re so adorable,” he murmured in between kisses. Curt didn’t even try to argue with him, he’d learned that that was futile. Instead, he closed his eyes and let it happen. Eventually, Owen gently laid Curt on the bed before lying down himself. Curt instinctively moved closer to him and snuggled into his chest while Owen wrapped his arms around him again.
“I love you,” Curt said softly. Owen didn’t say anything, but he pressed one last kiss to Curt’s head before whispering a goodnight.
When Curt woke up again, he was surprised. He hadn’t expected to actually be able to go back to sleep that last time he woke up, and yet here he was. He rolled over, noticing that Owen wasn’t there. He frowned.
“Good morning,” Owen’s cheerful voice said. “Mornin’,” Curt replied. Owen set down a small stack of pancakes on the nightstand before leaning over and kissing Curt’s forehead. The latter sighed happily. He wished it could always be this way. Just the two of them together, no mission to prepare for, nothing that they needed to do. It felt so domestic, and Curt was grateful for every second of it. He knew that this didn’t happen often, no matter how badly he wanted it.
“Hey, is that my shirt?” Curt asked the next time Owen walked into their shared bedroom. He was fully awake now, and clearly recognized that Owen was wearing one of Curt’s shirts. Curt himself rarely wore it because it was far too big for him, and it was even a bit too big for Owen. Of course Curt thought it made him look adorable.
“Don’t you mean our shirt?” was Owen’s response. Curt rolled his eyes dramatically. “Of course, Carvour, whatever you want.” Owen, who had sat down next to Curt, kissed his nose before flopping onto the bed and closing his eyes.
“‘M tired,” he said. “So early?” Curt teased. “You didn’t spend the entire morning unpacking bags and trying to make pancakes, did you?” Owen retorted. Curt shrugged. “Can’t say I did.”
Owen sighed, shaking his head but smiling. “I often wonder why I love you.”
“I know, you tell me that at least once a month,” Curt chuckled. He lay back down next to Owen and rolled over a bit so his head could rest on Owen’s chest. Owen’s hand began combing through his hair and Curt smiled contently. He reached for Owen’s hand and Owen took it happily, squeezing it tightly.
“Maybe we should get up, do stuff, y’know,” Curt whispered, voice muffled into Owen’s shirt. “What do you suggest we do, love?” Owen asked him. Curt shrugged. “I dunno, stuff.”
Owen let out a short laugh. “We don’t have much ‘stuff’ to do, darling. No mission, no...nothing. We can do whatever we want.” There was a bit of wonder in his voice, like he was only now realizing it. Curt let go of his hand and patted his arm. “That’s right. So, what do you want to do?”
Owen paused for a moment. “I don’t really care, I’d be fine with staying here all day.” He kissed behind Curt’s ear. Curt couldn’t help but laugh. “You bastard, you know I’m-” he couldn’t continue, because Owen kept pressing kisses to spots where he knew Curt was ticklish. Curt squirmed to get out of his grip, but Owen had his arms wrapped tightly around him. “Let me go!” he whined. Owen moved from behind his ear to his cheek, forehead, other cheek, jaw, kissing him all over his face. Curt relaxed. At least he wasn’t tickling him anymore.
Eventually, Owen ended up sitting against that headboard, Curt’s head on his shoulder. Owen absentmindedly stroked Curt’s cheek, leaning down to peck his lips every now and then. “Affectionate today, are we?” Curt asked, his eyes closed. Owen let the question sink in and kissed him once again before answering. “We have a whole month for ourselves, love, I’d be a fool not to use it in the best way possible.”
This time, it was Curt who reached up to kiss him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Still my shirt though. Not yours.” Owen smacked his arm softly. “It’s our shirt and you cannot tell me that it isn’t.” Curt raised his eyebrow. “And why can I not? I bought it with my own money, Carvour.”
“It’s ours now.”
Curt considered this for a moment, and then decided that Owen probably wasn’t going to give in. “I’m giving up. It’s ours.” Owen happily kissed his forehead and Curt was almost happy that he gave up.
Chapter 3: november third
prompt: "You're everything I could've wanted and more."
this one is quite short because writing fluff is harder than i'd expected but still a lot of fun
It was almost three in the afternoon. Their day had been quite calm. Owen still was incredibly affectionate, but Curt wasn’t complaining one bit. He was currently lying on the couch, his head in Owen’s lap, listening to Owen reading. The latter had a habit of softly reading each word out loud when he was reading, and Curt found it adorable. It was very nice to listen to his voice.
However, he wasn’t able to pay as much attention as he’d like to. He was having self doubts, like he often was. This time they were worse than usually though. He was afraid that he wasn’t good enough for Owen. Again, he always was, but now he wasn’t only afraid, he was quite convinced that Owen deserved better than him. Owen deserved to love someone freely, and he would never be able to do that with Curt. He shouldn’t have to be afraid for his lover’s life every time he did his job.
“Curt, love?” Owen’s voice cut through his disturbing thoughts. He didn’t respond. “Curt?” He sounded worried now. “I know you’re not asleep, Curt, your eyes are open. What’s wrong?” His fingers started combing through Curt’s hair and though Curt felt like he hadn’t earned it in any way, he leaned into the touch. He closed his eyes and felt Owen press a soft kiss to his forehead. He clumsily cupped Owen’s face with one hand, eyes still closed, and rubbed his cheek with his thumb. Owen chuckled, and then gently took Curt’s hand from his face.
“Love, something’s going on, and I want to know what it is. I’m worried about you.” His voice sounded so soft, so sweet. But there was concern hidden under the softness and sweetness, and it made Curt sick.
He opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. Owen seemed genuinely surprised. “For what, my love?”
“For making you worry like this.”
Owen frowned. He carefully placed his hand beneath Curt’s head and embraced him with his other arm, bringing him up to his level. Curt instinctively laid his head in Owen’s chest. He couldn’t suppress a smile when he felt Owen’s chin on top of his head. “You don’t need to apologize, my dear. I just want you to be alright, you know that.”
Curt nodded. “Yes, I do, I-I do. It’s just…” He sighed. Owen stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. “Take your time, dear.” He often said that as a joke when Curt was being unnecessarily slow, or when he wanted to kiss Owen for ‘too long’ (of course there was no such thing as kissing Owen for too long in Curt’s opinion), but now there wasn’t the slightest hint of kidding in his voice.
“You deserve better than me.” He barely noticed the words slipping from his mouth. He had talked to this about Owen before, and he was scared that Owen was getting tired of it.
“I could say the same about you, love, and what would you say if I did?”
Curt tilted his head in surprise. He’d never asked him that before. “I’d say that that’s not true.” He could feel Owen, who had buried his face in Curt’s neck, smile. “That’s right, and what makes you think that I don’t feel the same way about you?”
Curt shrugged. “I dunno. It’s just, you’re bisexual, right?” Owen nodded. “Exactly. So you could just...not have a relationship with me. I’m sure you’ll fall in love with some nice girl someday, and when that happens, you can love her freely, and you won’t risk anything by being with her, and I want that for you, Owen. I want you to be happy without risking everything.”
“Curt, you’re worth risking everything. A million sweet girls could be in love with me and I’d choose you. I love you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Curt’s neck, making his heart soar and for a moment, Curt forgot about his worries. He turned around and kissed Owen on his lips.
“I love you,” he whispered when they just barely pulled away. He let his forehead fall on Owen’s shoulder. Owen hugged him even tighter than he already did and ruffled his hair. “I know,” he said. Curt laughed. “You bastard,” he said, but of course there was nothing but love in his voice.
“Alright, I love you too,” Owen said in a joking voice. Then he said it again, seriously this time. “I love you, Curt. Always remember that, okay? And if you ever think that I deserve better than you, remember that you really are everything I could’ve wanted.” He pressed a kiss to Curt’s nose. “And more,” he then added. He smiled. “You’re everything I could’ve wanted and more. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Chapter 4: november fourth
prompt: "Kiss me."
this is a lot like the beginning of a few days ago but like it's still soft so it's fine i think
also i'm too tired to write anything new so this'll have to do
“Owen! Owen, wake up!”
Owen did wake up. How could he not? Curt was clutching his shoulder and shaking it, and he was talking quite loudly at this point. Owen suspected that he’d slept through Curt’s attempts to wake him up for a pretty long time, because he sounded quite annoyed. Curt had often told him that Owen was very lucky to have a partner who was a light sleeper, because apparently it was incredibly irritating to only manage to wake someone up with a lot of effort. Owen wished he was a light sleeper too. He’d always had this fear of dying because he slept through the entrance of a killer in the house or something.
“What do you want?” he mumbled to stop Curt from continuing to shake his shoulders. He turned around and pressed his face into the pillow. Curt, however, did not want that. He tried to roll Owen back on his back, but failed. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Owen and laid his chin on top of Owen’s head.
“Kiss me,” he said, and the irritation from before was gone from his voice. Owen had to smile at that, because no matter how annoying it was, Curt was adorable when he got like this. He sometimes had these very strong feelings of love and affection, without a reason for them to be there. They just kind of were there suddenly, and of course Curt couldn’t resist the urge to release them by being incredibly affectionate toward Owen. Owen was just happy that it hadn’t gotten them in trouble on missions.
“You woke me up for the second time this week just for that?” he said tiredly and still a bit annoyed at Curt for waking him up, but he did roll over. Curt smiled brightly at him and grabbed Owen’s arms, moving them so Owen was returning the hug. He happily nuzzled into Owen’s neck. “Yes,” he said cheerfully.
“Curt, it’s-it’s probably, like, 3am, I want to sleep,” he said, dragging out the word “sleep”. “4am, actually. So?”
“So, I’d like to go back to sleep.” Curt pouted at him. Owen patted his back fondly. “Sorry, love, sleep’s important.”
Curt gasped dramatically. “More important than me?” Owen glared at him, and rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable,” he said before rolling on his side, shrugging Curt off. He knew that Curt was probably making some adorable but unfortunately irresistible faces, and he refused to look at him until he knew that it was safe.
Curt let him lie there for about half a minute. To be honest, that was more than Owen was expecting. Usually, it took him about three seconds to start talking again. “Owen?” he asked, his voice a tad more serious than before. Owen groaned and once again rolled over to face him. “Yes, love?” he said. He was met with a shining smile and he managed not to smile back.
“Kiss me,” he said again. Owen reached up and cupped his face, the tips of his fingers in Curt’s hair. “Why?” he asked. Curt sighed and dropped his head on Owen’s shoulder. “I just - ah, I love you so much, and...well, I don’t need to tell you, Owen. Just kiss me.” Owen grinned. Curt let out a sound that was suspiciously close to a whine. “C’mon! Just one little kiss!” Owen still wasn’t reacting. “Please?” Curt finally asked, lifting his head from Owen’s shoulder.
Owen finally smiled at him, and Curt’s eyes were brighter than ever - even though he didn’t see them well with the limited light that came from the night lamp thingy. Owen was studying Curt’s face for a few seconds. Of course he had every feature of his boyfriend memorized, but seeing his face in real life was a lot better than seeing it in his mind. “I love you,” he said automatically. He’d gotten used to telling Curt that whenever he thought it (which, needless to say, was pretty often), and now he couldn’t think it without saying it. Curt cupped his face with both hands and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you too. Now kiss me.”
Owen kissed him quickly. He pulled away as soon as his lips touched Curt’s, and smirked at him. “You bastard!” Curt said in a dramatic tone. “Stop teasing me,” he then said in a sort of whining tone, poking Owen’s lips. Owen chuckled. “You sound like a child, dear.” “Shut up,” Curt said, sounding even more like a little kid. He flopped down onto Owen, carefully enough not to hurt him in the process, and Owen wrapped his arms around him and kissed his head. “Maybe you’ll just have to kiss me yourself, love.” Curt huffed. “Fine.”
And with that, Curt’s lips were on his, and Owen closed his eyes and he held Curt’s face and Curt held his shoulders and it was wonderful. Curt’s arms wrapped themselves around Owen’s waist, and Curt was practically lying on top of Owen now and the position they were in was starting to get a bit uncomfortable for Owen but he didn’t mind.
Owen was the first one to pull away, because he knew that if he didn’t, Curt would keep kissing him for as long as he could and Owen was really, really tired. “I love you,” Curt said, punctuating the sentence with another quick peck on Owen’s lips. He rolled over so he was lying next to Owen and placed his head on Owen’s shoulder. Owen turned around, hiding his face in Curt’s hair and pressing soft kisses to the top of his head. “I love you too.”
Curt hummed happily, his need for affection seemingly satisfied. He blindly reached up to Owen’s head, poking his cheek, nose, and almost eye in the process. When he finally found Owen’s hair, he started playing with it, like he did whenever he had the chance. “Goodnight, Owen,” he said, his voice sounding like he was already drifting off.
“Goodnight, love. By the way, this is the last time I will tolerate you waking me up in the middle of the night,” he added, half-joking. “Sure,” Curt mumbled into his shoulder. “Night.”
Chapter 5: november fifth
prompt: "You took all the pillows so I'm using you as one."
i really need to start writing this again, there's only one prewritten chapter left
also i barely proofread these things so sorry for any mistakes
the next few chapters will be shitty because unlike the past few prewritten chapters i'll write those with a mild concussion and i forget words all the time
It had been four days since the failed mission and Owen was already becoming agitated. He wasn’t used to having nothing to do. Yes, he’d brought books with him, and there was Curt, who required as much attention as a four year old, but he had nothing to do for work. Owen supposed he should like that. Curt did. “See it as a vacation!” he said. “A whole month together.” He sighed overdramatically. “That’s everything we want.” Curt wasn’t wrong. Whenever they weren’t together, Owen wished they could be. And when they were, Owen wished they could be together for longer.
Now they were together for a month, and yet Owen didn’t feel satisfied. No, dissatisfied wasn’t the right word. He was very happy to have Curt with him, and sometimes he felt more content than he had in years. And yet, he felt like he was missing something. Like he was forgetting something important, and he knew what that something was. Work. Owen was so used to working quite literally all the time that even when he didn’t have to work it felt like he did, and frankly, it was stressing him out.
Curt did a lot of things to distract him from his life as a spy - mainly kissing him but they’d also played some games, Curt was becoming surprisingly good at chess and Owen was becoming increasingly scared that Curt would beat him someday.
He actually did beat him on the fifth day of their “vacation”. Owen didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would, because Curt’s reaction was adorable.
“Well, Carvour,” he said smugly with a huge grin on his face, “looks like I’m the superior chess player. Owen rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. You won one time, that-” Of course Curt refused to listen.
“Remember this day, Owen! November fifth, 1954. Special Agent Curt Mega’s first victory of many.” Owen, once again, rolled his eyes. Curt was being incredibly extra. He always was, but he was being more extra than always. He was making a sort of waving movement* with his hands and he still had that huge, triumphant grin on his face.
“Alright, love,” Owen gave in. “This time you’ve won. But who knows? It might just be beginner’s luck.” Curt nudged him with his elbow. “It’s not. I am a chess master.” Owen laughed and pecked his nose. “Sure, love. But before we declare anyone a chess master, I want a rematch.”
Curt raised his eyebrow. “Are you really that confident? If you lose, you will face humiliation and you’ll have to admit that I am a chess master.” Owen shook his head, still laughing. Curt really was in an overdramatic mood today. “I’ll take that risk, darling.”
“Okay. Let’s make it a bet,” Curt said. “Are you really that confident?” Owen retorted. Curt glared at him, jokingly. “Yes.”
“Alright, what do you want to bet?” Curt paused what he was doing (resetting the chess pieces) and seemed to genuinely think about it. “Uh, the loser has to cook the food for a week.”
Owen frowned. “If I win, that’s not a price I would want.”
Curt sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Okay, you’ve got a point there, I guess. And besides, you cook every day, so if you lose that’s not much of a difference.” He thought again, then his face lit up. “Oh! If you lose, I can choose what we have for dinner for a week.” His eyes were shining. Curt really was a four year old sometimes.
Owen patted his back affectionately and kissed behind his ear, making Curt giggle. “Alright, I think I can live with that. And if I win?” Curt shrugged. “I don’t know.”
But Owen did, of course. “I get to tickle you without a warning for a week.” It’s not like he usually warned Curt, but still, Curt seemed surprised. Even if he was surprised, he nodded and extended his hand to Owen. Owen shook it and then planted a kiss on it. “It’s a deal,” he said.
Curt ended up winning. Owen protested against this, but Curt kept laughing and shaking his head and thinking about the things Owen would have to make him for a week. And Owen felt happy. For once, he wasn’t thinking about work, or anything that involved spies (except for Curt, of course) in general. He was having a good time, even if he was probably going to eat pancakes for a week straight.
Curt yawned. Owen narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Curt?”
“You did. Go to bed, Curt.”
Curt sighed, and then yawned again. “Alright, it’s probably for the best.” Owen nodded. “But only if you come with me. I don’t wanna fall asleep alone.” He pouted at Owen, but that was unneeded. Of course he’d convinced Owen the moment he mentioned Owen going with him.
A few minutes later, Owen entered the bedroom they were using, only to find Curt snuggled up in between pillows. Somehow, there were none left, and they’d combined the pillows from both of the rooms in the house. Owen shook his head, and came a little bit closer. Curt’s eyes were closed, and he seemed to already have dozed off. Owen had always been jealous of Curt’s ability to go to sleep whenever he wanted. How did he do that?
He quietly slid into the bed next to Curt. Unfortunately, there were no pillows left, so Owen resorted to his last option.
“Owen?” Curt’s sleepy voice said. Owen didn’t bother to look up to him. He was very comfortable with his head and his limbs loosely swung over him. “Yes, my dear?” he responded quietly.
“Why are you using me as a pillow?”
“You took all of the real pillows. And even if you hadn’t, I like using you as a pillow.” He heard Curt chuckled and felt his arms wrapping around him. Curt shifted him a little so his face was in the crook of Curt’s neck and Curt’s cheek on top of his head. “Thanks.”
Curt kissed the top of his head, and Owen heard his breathing evening out until he was asleep. He was wondering why Curt took all of the pillows. Usually he left a few for Owen, but it might be because he was the “chess master” and deserved an unlimited amount of pillows. Owen smiled softly and eventually, he, too, fell asleep.
Chapter 6: november sixth
prompt: "Stop moving and let me braid your hair."
probably won't update this for a few days (it sucks because i really really wanted to update this every day) because apparently writing with a mild concussion isn't good for my brain :/
There were a lot of things that Curt Mega loved about Owen Carvour.
For one, there were his eyes. They were brown and some people would call it simple and basic but Curt never would. Those people obviously hadn’t taken a close look at Owen’s eyes. They were everything but simple and basic. If you looked closely - specifically so close that it’d only take another moment until you were kissing him - you could see little bits of green and yellow in them. Owen’s eyes were complex and unique. One could argue that every eye was complex and unique, but to Curt Owen’s eyes were the most unique and the most beautiful.
There was, of course, his personality. Owen was so strong and yet so soft, so determined and yet so easily convinced. Especially when Curt tried to convince him to do things, actually. Owen was very charming. He was not only easily convinced, but also very convincing. It came in handy a lot of the time. He actually had a lot of personality traits that were good for missions, Curt supposed that that was why he was Britain’s best spy, and one of the two world’s best spies. He was very patient, very observant, very effective. Things Curt wasn’t, although he’d never admit it. He just kind of waltzed his way through the missions and somehow managed to survive them.
And third but not least (certainly not last but not least, there were far more than three things that Curt loved about Owen), there was his hair. It was so soft and pretty and there was a slight curl to it and Curt loved it. He vividly remembered that the day after their first kiss, he’d kissed Owen again and finally got to play with his hair. He’d been waiting for that moment for such a long time, and that day he learned how to braid hair. After that, Owen constantly walked around any safehouse or hotel they were in with little braids in his hair.
At the moment, Owen was cooking, as he’d promised the day before. To be precise, he was making pancakes. He’d just walked to the kitchen and grabbed the ingredients from the fridge without even asking Curt what he wanted. He just knew him that well.
“Owen?” Curt asked. Owen briefly looked over him before focusing on the batter he was whisking. “Yes, love?”
“Can I braid your hair after dinner?” Owen chuckled. “What? It’s a serious question.”
“You ask that ‘serious question’ every time I grow out my hair, darling. Every time you see me, actually. Honestly, I’m surprised that it’s taken you almost a week to ask it.”
“I know,” Curt said. He walked over to Owen and draped his arms around him, without placing too much of his weight on his partner out of fear that the batter would fly everywhere. “I just want to be sure, there are times that you don’t want people to touch your hair.” Owen reached up and touched Curt’s hand for a moment. “That’s surprisingly considerate of you. Thanks.” He kissed Curt’s hand, and Curt felt all warm inside.
“Now I recommend that you sit back down at the table and let me do my work.” Curt pouted, but sat back down.
Curt finished eating before Owen. He stared at Owen, trying to look into his eyes. Owen successfully ignored him for a while, but eventually Curt saw him hiding a smile. Curt smirked, knowing that it wouldn’t take a long time for him to break Owen. He was right. Owen soon was erupting in laughter, almost choking on his food. “You do that every time you’re finished sooner than I am,” he said in between giggles.
Curt shrugged. “I just want to see you smile, you know that. And since I don’t want to torture you I don’t tickle you, and instead just stare at you.” He smiled innocently. Owen gave him a look. “That’s not a lot better than tickling, darling.” “Believe me, it is.”
Curt walked over to Owen, taking his chair with him and sitting down beside him. He leaned his head on Owen’s shoulder, but he gently shrugged him off. Curt sent him a questioning look. “I’m eating, love.” Curt huffed. “Eating is a waste of time.” Owen shook his head amusedly.
Finally, Curt went to move behind him, and took his hair between his fingers. With the utmost concentration he braided a loose strand of it, but unfortunately Owen was still eating, causing his head to move. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair,” Curt mumbled.
“If you’re really that desperate, I’ll stop moving,” Owen said with a hint of a smile in his voice. Curt smiled happily and focused on Owen’s hair again. Owen finished his plate with messy braids in his hair.
Chapter 7: november seventh
prompt: "I'm so proud of you."
found out that i can pick november seventh with the chapter publication date so let's see if that works
probably not since it's november eighthth (idk how to spell that)
this is a really bad chapter because i kinda really just wrote it to rant about the fact that concussions suck so sorry curt i gave you a concussion
probably not gonna update this for a few days because my brain needs rest, sorry!
Curt had a concussion and it fucking sucked. Sure, it was only a mild concussion, and he’d had a lot worse than this, but it still sucked.
It all started when Curt awoke to the sound of his watch beeping, meaning that Barb probably wanted to have a chat with him. She did that quite often when Curt wasn’t in the lab for a long time. Curt found it sweet, but then again, it was probably just because she had a crush on him and Curt didn’t like to be reminded of that. It was awkward to say the least. Hard to deal with. To Owen though, it was the funniest thing in the world.
Curt gently rolled away from the embrace and saw Owen furrow his brow in his sleep. He smiled softly and went to turn off the lights, then remembered that Owen was asleep and he wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at what, 7am? So he stumbled his way through the room until he reached his watch, but because of the darkness, he hit his head against a cupboards. He cursed under his breath and stumbled back to the bed, sitting down.
Eventually he passed out. Probably not longer than a few seconds, because when he wake up he was sprawled out over Owen’s body, on which he’d passed out, and Owen was awake, slowly processing what had happened. “Curt?” he asked tiredly. “You okay?” Curt, unable to talk and with an aching head, shook his head. Owen gently pushed Curt away and sat up, turning on the lights. He then noticed Curt’s watch beeping. “I’ll take care of the call, I’ll be right back,” Curt heard him promise, but the words didn’t really hit him.
It didn’t take long for Owen to return, and he was inspecting Curt’s head. “You’re bleeding,” he mumbled. “Not much, just a small cut, but what happened?”
“Hit my head,” Curt managed to say before he let his head fall on Owen’s shoulder. “It hurts,” he whispered. Owen asked him to sit up, asked him a few questions, and finally concluded that he had a mild concussion.
So here he was. Still sitting on that goddamned bed and having one hell of a headache.
Owen arrived at the bed with a cup of tea. Usually Curt didn’t really like tea, but right now he welcomed any sort of fluid with open arms (genderfluids included). “How are you feeling, my love?” Owen asked softly. Curt sipped his tea, his eyes barely opened enough to see it. “Headache,” he said. “‘M feeling a bit sick. Dizzy. I’ve had worse though.” “The fact that you’ve had worse doesn’t mean that we should dismiss what you’re feeling now,” Owen pointed out.
Curt hummed in response. Owen laid a hand on Curt’s back. “I’m going to call Barb back, is that okay with you?” Curt nodded. “She must be worried sick.” “Yeah, she probably is,” Owen replied with a fond smile on his face.
A few seconds later, Barb’s slightly panicked voice sounded through the small speaker in Curt’s watch. “Curt!”
“Owen, actually. Curt’s here too. I think he’s got a mild concussion, nothing too serious. I’m taking good care of him, I promise.”
He heard Barb’s breathing calm down. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you, Owen. Can I talk to Curt?” Owen looked at Curt who nodded. “Try not to shout at him,” he said as he handed the watch to his partner.
“Hey, Barb,” Curt said, his voice still sounding a bit weak.
“Hi, Curt.” Owen could hear her swooning over Curt, and he grinned. Curt glared at him, Owen simply took his free hand inn his own.
“How’s it going?” Curt obviously tried to sound strong. Why would he think that he had to sound strong for Barb to want to talk to him.
“I should be asking you that, Curt! Mild concussion is what Owen said, that must hurt. How are you?”
“In pain,” Curt responded plainly. Owen could imagine Barb’s face dropping.
“I’ll hope you’ll feel better soon, Curt,” Barb said softly. “Thanks.” They said their goodbyes and Barb hung up.
“God, I feel like shit,” Curt chuckled. Owen brought him in an embrace. “That’s okay, Curt.”
“It’s not. I hit my head and now I have a fucking concussion. It’s weak.”
“It’s not weak, darling, it’s perfectly normal. You’re doing great, love. I’m proud of you.” Curt sighed contently, almost unconscious. “Love you,” he murmured before passing out.
Chapter 8: november eighth
prompt: “I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much.”
MY HEADACHE IS FINALLY OVER SO I CAN WRITE AGAIN
i'm not even bothering to write this in google docs like i normally do, just gonna write it in ao3, it'll probably be pretty bad but i will try to make it longer than the others to make up for the wait
edit: it's not as long as i hoped it'd be, sorry
Curt really, really liked to be stuck in a safehouse with Owen.
Owen was smart and funny and witty and always knew what to say and the past few days he'd been more affectionate than usual and Curt loved it. Usually he was the affectionate one, but now Owen was, and it wasn't what Curt had expected when Cynthia had told him that "this time you've fucked up badly enough that you and Owen are gonna have to be in a safehouse for a fucking month". He liked to tease Owen about it, but he knew when he should stop. And even when he didn't know, Owen's slightly dismissive glare was enough to make Curt shut up, and then Owen would smile and pull Curt closer. Now was not one of those moments. Now was a moment where Owen was very irritable and therefore also very irritated by Curt.
Curt didn't know what he'd done wrong. He'd gone over the day a million times in his head, and was now going over it for the million and first time.
He'd waken up with Owen in his arms. Owen had been asleep, and Curt had smiled softly, and he'd started to make little braids in Owen's hair. He'd kissed his head a few times, careful not to wake Owen up, and he'd felt happy. He was warm inside and he was filled with love for the man he was holding. Owen looked so small in his arms, even though he was taller than Curt. It was hard for Curt to believe that that same man had killed people, even if it was for the greater good. He seemed so innocent, almost child-like. Unaware of everything and anything bad that was going on around him. Of course Curt knew that when awake, Owen was very, very aware of what was going on around him. More aware than Curt. Owen was kind of Curt's source of news. Curt relied on him to inform him about what the hell was happening. But right then, right there, in Curt's arms, he was blissfully unware of what the hell was happening, and he was a warm and welcome presence in Curt's arms.
Eventually, he woke up. "Good morning," Curt whispered, kissing his temple soflty. Owen struggled to get out of his arms for a few moments, then seemed to realize where he was and he relaxed. "Morning," he said, his voice tired and muffled in Curt's neck. Curt pulled him closer. He felt Owen smile. "How late is it?" Owen asked. "Uh, about ten in the morning." Owen nodded - or attempted to nod, since Curt was still wrapped around him - and gently placed his hands on Curt's arms, moving them away so he could escape from the embrace. Of course Curt let him, even though he'd really prefer if Owen would've stayed with him a bit longer. It did make him worry. Was something wrong? Had Curt done something wrong? But Owen took Curt's hand and kissed it and held it against his cheek and it washed Curt's worries away, kind of like the sea washing sand castles away. But evil sand castles. Because sand castles are good and they should not be washed away. It was like the sea washing evil sand castles away.
Owen made them breakfast (scrambled eggs). He was pretty quiet, which could be considered logical - he was supposed to be eating and not to be talking, after all - and it was, but Curt did talk a lot while eating and Owen's responses were shorter than normally. They weren't that much shorter, and probably nothing to worry about, but the evil sand castels inside Curt were building themselves back up. After breakfast, Owen threw himself onto the couch and grabbed a book he'd been reading the day before. Curt sat down next to him and tried to cuddle up against him, but Owen wouldn't let him. He flinched away whenever Curt touched him and Curt, taken aback, stopped trying.
The day had gone on like that. Owen being a bit colder than normal, and Curt trying to get him to warm up, and the evil sand castles kept growing and growing. There almost was a whole evil sand imperium in Curt's head. Owen was the water that could was the imperium away, but today the sea was dry. Curt had tried not to adress it, he didn't want to force the issue. But during dinner - Owen had started to make pasta without even asking Curt what he wanted, something he normally did - he couldn't stand it any longer.
"Owen, what's wrong?" he asked. Owen looked up to him, previously having been staring at his pasta but not eating a lot of it. "Nothing's wrong, Curt. I'm fine." He flashed a smile at Curt, but he wasn't buying it. "Come on, Owe, you know I'm not that gullible. I know you. Something's wrong, and I want to help you." He punctuated his sentence by tapping against the table with his fork.
"You don't have to 'help me', love." It was muttered, and Owen wasn't looking at Curt. It gave Curt a chance to examine him without Owen noticing. He looked rather tired, and agitated. He was drumming his knife against his plate and the pet name sounded forced. Curt could still somewhat see the little braids he'd made when Owen was asleep, and he couldn't supress a smile when he noticed them. "Fine," Curt said. He wasn't going to lie, he was a bit disappointed. But when Owen was in a mood like this, it was best to let him be. Usually, pressing the matter only made things worse, and obviously Curt didn't want that.
They didn't talk that day until they went to bed. Still in the same bed. Curt had automatically gone to Owen's room, where they had been sleeping, and Owen didn't say anything about it so Curt concluded that he couldn't be that upset with him. "Goodnight," Curt said, and he saw a small smile on Owen's face. "Night, love," he said. This time, the pet name sounded natural and one of the smaller evil sand castles was washed away by a single wave.
Curt woke up alone. The space beside him was warm though, so Owen must've left only a few minutes ago. "Owen?" he called, but his partner didn't answer. The evil sand castle that had been washed away the evening before came back, and Curt got up worriedly to find Owen sitting on the couch, reading the same book as the days before. "What are you even reading?" he asked after he sat down next to him.
Owen looked up from his book, surprised. "I thought you were asleep." Curt chose to ignore the fact that he hadn't answered his question. "I was. But I woke up and you weren't there." He couldn't prevent his voice from sounding a little hurt. Owen sighed. "Look, Curt, I'm sorry about yesterday. I know that I shouldn't have dismissed you like that, especially with the concussion and all that. I know that your head can't handle all of that stress right now. It's just - I really don't like being confined like this." He'd started with a strong voice, but he got quieter as he spoke. Curt tentatively placed his hand on top of Owen's, and intertwined their fingers when Owen didn't pull away. "I understand," he said. Owen shook his head. "No. I had a bad day yesterday and it wasn't your fault, and I should've let you know, I should've-I should've talked to you about it instead of not talking to you at all."
Curt squeezed his hand. "Okay, firstly, you did talk to me, just...not much. But you did talk to me. Second, it's okay, Owe. I'm not going to lie to you, I was worrying, and yes, it worsened my headache, but it's okay. Don't beat yourself up over it, okay?" Owen bit his lip but nodded. Curt exhaled, relieved. "I'm still sorry," Owen said softly, scooting closer to Curt. Curt let go of his hand and wrapped his arms around him. "I know you are. Apology accepted." Owen chuckled. "Thanks, darling."
"Can we go back to bed?" Curt then asked.
"You just got out of it, love."
"I didn't get to wake up with you close to me."
Owen shook his head, laughing. "Curt Mega, you are the most cliche man I have ever met." Curt moved his fingers through Owen's hair. "You love it." "You know I do."
Eventually, Curt convinced Owen to go back to bed, even though it was already eleven and Owen thought it was way too late for this. But he was holding Curt now, and the evil sand imperium had vanished. Curt reached up to play with Owen's hair. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," Owen responded. He sighed. "I didn't think it was possibly to love someone this much, but I do." He kissed Curt's forehead. Then, he took Curt's hand, kissing it. Curt dropped it to Owen's shoulder. He closed his eyes. "Don't fall asleep on me now," Owen said, half-joking. Curt hummed. He fell asleep easily, and when he woke up, Owen was still there, reading his book.
Chapter 9: november ninth
prompt: "You are my family." very cliche i know but chliches can be fun
i sincerely apologize for barely updating, unfortunately i won't be able to update in the next few days either because i'm gonna move houses next wednesday and everything's really chaotic rn
sorry this one is really short, i'm just really tired and wanted to post something today so this is probably the best i can give you rn
"Don't you ever miss your family?"
Owen opened his eyes at the question. He was lying on the couch, his head in Curt's lap, Curt's hands in his hair. He closed his eyes again. "Why are you asking, love?" He felt Curt shrug. "Just wondering." Owen pretended to think about this and reached for Curt's hand. Curt chuckled softly and moved his hand so Owen couldn't reach it, but eventually he gave in and held Owen's hand. "I think it's more than that," Owen said.
"I think you miss your own family and you want me to relate to you." Curt fell quiet. Owen pressed a kiss against the back of Curt's hand. "Well, you're lucky, darling. I do miss my family."
"Really. I just...don't really like to talk about it. I probably should. Talk about it, I mean." Curt intertwined their fingers. "You know that you can, if you want." Owen sighed. "I know. Maybe I will. Probably for the best. But only if you talk first." He said it in a half-joking tone, but he was dead serious. "Seriously? You're that childish?" Curt asked teasingly. "I am. Now tell me about whatever's on your mind."
Curt let go of Owen's hand and cupped his face, rubbing one of his thumbs over his cheek. "Alright, if you really want me to."
He huffed. "Fine. I just...I miss my mom. And my dad. I mean, I know that he left us when I was a baby, but still, I'd like to have a dad. Not-not that my mom isn't amazing, of course, but a father would have been nice, I think. And now all of this free time gives me a lot of time to think about all of that but I'm thinking too much and it's making me feel bad." Owen placed his hand on top of one of Curt's. "I get it," he said softly. "And I miss my family too. But we can't spend all day thinking about what we don't have, Curt, because it's very special what we do have now, and we shouldn't let what we don't have distract us from...well, from us."
"I know. I can't help it. I want to spend as much time as possible with you, I really do, but I'm overthinking everything and-"
"Well," Owen interrupted him. "Then just pretend that I'm your family, alright, love? It might help." He reached up blindly, his eyes still closed, and he eventually found Curt's face and cupped it. He felt Curt smile. "I don't have to pretend you are, Owen."