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Spies are forever but it's just sexual tension (with ya know... angst)

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A deep rumbling shook the foundations Owen Carvour stood on, "What was that?" He asked, looking at his partner Curt Mega with slight fear in his eyes.

“Shit- I- may have set the timer for three minutes and we maybe absolutely need to get the hell out of here.” He grabbed Owen's hand and started bolting it up the stairs.

"Oh, Curt Mega, you're going to be the death of me!" 

“Nah, I’d never let you down!” Famous last words, but he was confident.

They got to the landing of the stairs when Owen felt his foot slip out from under him, time seemed to slow down as he fell backwards. He was almost sure this was the end. Suddenly time started up again as he was yanked up by his wrist. Curt held onto Owen for dear life, dragging him back up onto the staircase. “Never do that again, holy shit-“ Curt panted, eyes wide with fear. 

"My life... just flashed before my very eyes." Owen breathed. "Let's... let's go."

“Great idea, let's.” Curt was once again darting for the exit, pulling a stumbling, shaken Owen along by his hand as they exited the warehouse.

They make it out- right in time, too, since the building exploded behind them, the spies covering their heads as they ran away from the debris. Once they were pretty sure they were far enough away that they won't be burned alive, Curt let go of Owen's hand, bending over. "Shit." He panted as he stood up. Owen couldn't help but smile fondly as Curt patted him down, concern in his eyes as he said, "That was really close, are you ok?"

Owen simply smiled at him, despite still relatively shook up because Jesus Christ, he almost died. "Never better old chap."

“Good, but also please never almost fall like that again. Lesson learned, I won’t litter again.” Owen saw his eyes flash with guilt as he shakily returned the smile.

"I'll try my best not to." 

“You’d better. If you died I’d literally die from loneliness. Rabbits can die of loneliness, Owen.” 

He huffed a laugh as Curt patted down his jacket real quick, just to make sure that the blueprints were still there, "Rabbits, are we?"

He looked at Owen completely seriously, “You don’t know what humans evolved from, you weren’t there.”

"We evolved from chimpanzees, as a matter of fact." He stated as he brushed himself down and straightened out his clothes.

“You weren’t there, who’s to say. And, I mean, I almost died from loneliness anyway! It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you.” It had been two whole weeks since their last mission in Guatemala. 

"I was starting to miss you too." He smiled at Curt, he was still a loveable dork. 

“And you almost died, my point is proven.” He looked down at his watch. “We should- probably go meet up with Barb and give her the blueprints. But like- after we could totally book a hotel room and hang for a bit?”

Owen's voice turned soft, remembering all the other times they got to do such a thing, "That sounds amazing, love." 

“Let’s go, then.” He took Owen's hand again but like- way gentler and just started to walk along to the meet up point. Walking beside Curt, he simply looked at him, smiling like an idiot. 'God, he's incredible.' It may be cliché of him to say but Curt looked so beautiful under the fading sunlight, his face lit up by the soft reds and pinks of the sunset, set in a determined expression as usual. Determined to get the job done or to drive Owen up the wall is another question. Either way he was a loveable idiot that Owen couldn't get enough of. His hand curled around Curt's smaller one and gave a light squeeze causing Curt to look up at him, they both shared a small soft smile before turning back to the task at hand. 

“So, what’ve you been up to in the two weeks I haven’t been around? Finally get that Beautiful Wife everyone’s expecting you to have?” Curt joked.

He laughed slightly at the question, "Ah, spy work is too dangerous for a beautiful wife, old boy. I've been working on something for MI6."

“Ooh, what’re you working on?” 

"You know, same old same old, taking down syndicates and what have you." Owen waved it off, despite them being 'partners', they still worked for their own countries. 

“I love how you say that like it’s just a super normal thing. Like ‘oh yes, I just toppled a criminal organisation and stopped the prime minister from being murdered, I think I’ll pop down to Greggs for a sausage roll’.”

He laughed at Curt's British accent. "Not quite. Pasties are much more favourable."

Curt pulled a disgusted face. “They both sound equally as gross. Your food is gross.” 

"It is not."

“Agree to disagree.” He chirped and carried on walking, Owen quickly following, shaking his head in amusement.

They continued walking for a while longer, finally reaching the boat that Barb was in, Curt stopping for a second to explain, “Well, we’re here, so no pet names or hand holding, you know the drill. If we’re lucky we’ll be in and out, five minutes tops.”

"Yes, got it." Owen dropped his hand. Suddenly feeling cold, the Brit followed Curt into the boat.

A small blonde woman was already yelling by the time Owen got in the room. "Curt! I- we've all been worried sick!"

Curt started to try to placate her. Owen rolled his eyes at his next words, “Well, luckily no harm was done. To me. Everyone else in that building definitely died. And-“ He pulled out the blueprints from his jacket. “-We got these.”

Barb jumped happily a little at the sight of them, "That's fantastic!" She snatched the blueprints from him, opening them up as she said, "I did say you could just broadcast them but this works great too. And did you really have to blow up that facility?"

Owen decided to chime in, walking further into the room, "Oh, yes, Curt isn't always one to follow direct orders."

“It’s more dramatic if we run away from a burning building. You should’ve been there, it was super cool.” Owen rolled his eyes affectionately yet again at this. God, Curt is a dumbass.  “What are the prints for anyway?”

Barb's eyes lit up and Owen thought he literally saw the concentration leave Curt's eyes as she started to 'nerd talk' as the American would call it. "Well, picture this. The world's first, large-scale information collective and archival system. Totally cool, huh?"

Owen raised an eyebrow. How interesting.

Curt well… he already regretted asking, “...Huh.”

Barb continued anyways, seemingly undeterred by Curt's lack of interest. "You see, if it worked, we'd be able to take down syndicates by doing the detective work from the safety of our desks. It would take the guesswork out of your job, hopefully saving some lives in the process, including your own-! Can you imagine if the technology existed?!"

“I mean- taking down bad guys from behind a desk? Sounds boring.” He looked over at his partner. “What d’you think?”

"I think it's an interesting premise, though I do like being out in the field." Owen said to please both of them.

"I guess you will but it's certainly a lot safer." 

“But also super boring. Like. Really boring.” He paused. “But whatever floats your boat, get it? Because we're on a boat.” Owen huffed out a laugh while Barb just looked a little sad. "See? He gets it?" He said pointing at Owen, smiling. "Anyway, bye-"

"Okay, well, see you later, Mr sexy pants~." She said, failing at being seductive. The woman is smart but she never failed to make Owen feel jealous.

'He's mine.' He thought, posessively. 

He struggled to just… avoid saying anything mean. “..Yes. Bye.” And he left, Owen following behind him, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was interesting." 

“That’s one way to put it.” Curt chuckled. “You looked so mad back there.”

Owen smiled, "I was talking about the archival system, old boy."

“Oh, of course you'd find that interesting.” He rolled his eyes. “Seriously though, fighting evil from a desk? That’s like. Painfully boring.”

"It's not about fighting evil from a desk, Curt. It could end all wars."

“How?” He looked... very confused, please help.

"We could take down syndicates in possibly hours instead of going undercover and torturing eachother silly. We could bring about world peace." 

“I mean- world peace is like, impossible though. There’s always gonna be some bad people fighting everyone and murdering people.” He shrugged, effectively ending the conversation. “I dunno. You wanna go get drinks?”

'He doesn't realise what it can do. Well, it's his own fault.' He thought before replying, "Absolutely."

“Hell yeah. We really need to go out for drinks more- I know this really cool place that’s not too far away.”

"Let's go then, shall we?"

“Let's.” He went to take Owen's hand but then remembered that they're in public, so he just left his hand close, Owen smiling every time their hands brushed together, “I still can’t believe you let me get all tortured like that. Me, your darling beloved entirely platonic bestie. The betrayal.”

"Well, it was delightful to see you squirm like that as always. Besides, you could use being knocked on a few notches." The Brit smirked.

“Wow, rude.” He chuckled, playfully elbowing Owen. “Can’t believe I’ve been insulted by my best friend.”

Owen rolled my eyes and smiled. "I know you can take it."

“Oh really? How’d you figure that out?” He had the biggest shit eating grin plastered on his face.

"It's one of my secret talents."

“Mhm, yes, definitely, guessing that’s how you knew my weak spots too. Super talented.” They finally reached the pub, “We’re here.”

"I can see that, Curt." He opened the door and stepped to the side, sweeping his arm out dramatically. "After you."

“You’re so kind.” He grinned, stepping inside. The bar itself was relatively empty, only one or two people scattered about which was perfect.

"Oh, don't I know it?" Owen quipped as he followed him in. "It's quite a small place."

“Yeah, it’s always super quiet. Might sound hard to believe but before we started working together I used to barhop. Like, a lot. I know the owner here, he’s cool.” He wandered over to the bar counter. “What d’you want to drink?”

"Whiskey and ice."

“How did I know you’d go for something that boring?” He chuckled, turning to the bartender. “Could I get one whiskey with ice and one martini, please?” Owen noted that Curt was using manners. He’s learning. The bartender nodded and started to make the drinks.

"And you always get something like that." He said, nodding to the clear drink the bartender finished making. "We always do the same thing."

“Right, I’m super fun and exciting and ready to get wasted at the drop of a hat, and you like the drink that people take a shot of when they have a cold.” He grinned, taking a sip of his drink.

"I just like the way it burns my throat, nothing wrong with that." He returned as he took a drink.

“One day I’ll bully you into drinking cocktails with me. But today is not that day, I don’t have the energy.”

"Perfectly understandable. That was quite a rodeo back there."

“Yeah. We really have to work on your accents.” He jabbed jokingly.

Owen let out a fake gasp of shock, mocking being appalled. "Sod off. My accents are immaculate."

“I’m pretty sure your bestie- Olaf, I think- was catching on. You were like one step away from yelling bloody hell when I broke the dudes fingers. I saw it in your eyes.”

"I just didn't realise you were that strong. No matter how many times I have to save you, you always seem to surprise me."

“Maybe you should stop underestimating me then. I’m not a little damsel in distress- but like, it is fun to pretend to be. Remember that time you literally carried me bridal style out of a burning building?”

Owen chuckled. "Yes, that was rather brilliant."

“Yeah! Man, we are such a great team. I can not believe we were like- rival type delios before.”

"Oh, yes. Though those were some good old days, racing against the clock and each other, trying to get the information to our superiors first."

“Yeah, that was so much fun. All those swordfights and needlessly drawn out chases. And now we’re working together but with the exact same level of competive-ness.”

"Exactly. It's perfect."

“Mhm. It’s all the fun of being rivals with none of the unnecessary fighting.  Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grinned, sitting back slightly.

"Me neither." Owen smiled softly.

He finished his drink, only kind of buzzed. “So, how long are you staying here this time?”

"A week at most. I managed to get some time off."

“Oh shit, that’s ages. I’ll give Cynthia a call and see if I can get some more days off. Y'know, to make the most of the whole ass Week you have here. I dare say that’s enough time for touristy shit.”

"I suppose so. It should be fun."

“It will be fun! There’s so much I’ve been dying to show you. Since the last time you were here. I’m- guessing you have a hotel since you’re staying, right?” Curt asked, looking up slightly at Owen.

"Of course I do. I'm always one step ahead."

Curt nodded. “Smort. You done with your drink?”

Owen quickly finished his drink. "Now, I am."

“You wanna head to your hotel then? Chill for a bit… hang out. Normal platonic friend things.”

"Let's." Owen said, standing up from his stool and walking towards the door.

Curt following Owen to the door, before he held it open for him like a gentleman. “After you.”


They finally got to the hotel, Curt looking up at it, saying, “Dang, this place is nice. I mean- as nice as a hotel here that doesn’t charge like. A million dollars can be.”

"Exactly. Always the highest standards, love."

“Clearly that does not apply to people you hang out with.” Curt muttered slightly causing Owen to frown. “Let’s go to the room... thing.”

"Off we pop then." 

They walked inside, Curt admiring the lobby as Owen signed in. “Fancy. Where’s your room?” 

He smiled at the receptionist before turning to Curt, "6th floor."

“To the sixth floor it is.” They made their way over to the stairway despite their being perfectly good elevators, “Hey, Owen. Race you to the top.”

"You're on." The taller spy started legging it up the stairs. Curt quickly followed but God cursed him to be small. He only got to skip a step occasionally because he didn’t want to fall and break his neck.

"Try to keep up old boy!" Owen called from a landing as he bound up the stairs.

“Not fair! You’re like 80% leg!” Curt started to catch up but there’s no way in hell he’d make it there first.

"Perhaps if you weren't so short!" Owen joked.

“It’s not my fault! You just got lucky!”

He laughed as they finally reached the 6th floor. "I won."

“You only won because you’re tall.” He pouted. “D’you know what room you’re in?”

"Of course I know what room I'm in. Room 65."

“Let’s go then.” He started walking to the room, noting a man standing against a wall in the hall that just stared at him while he walked by. “Weirdo.” He muttered.

Owen followed Curt, also noticing a person out of the corner of his eye. He became tense at the sight of him. As they made it to Owen's room, Owen used his key to open the door and walked into the room. After Curt walked in, Owen made sure to lock the door behind them, putting the key in the bowl beside the door.

Oblivious to Owen's tension, Curt looked around. “Wow, fancy. Very noice.” He headed over to the cupboards and looked inside. “There’s literally nothing in here. How about I’ll head down to a store or something, grab some booze and like an apple or something and you get settled in?”

During Curt's search through the cupboards, Owen tuned him out, the curtains closed, looking out the window, not really paying attention to Curt, "That sounds great, dear."

“Ok! I’ll be back in like- five minutes. Don’t miss me too much!” Curt gave a goofy grin to his boyfriend and headed out the door, humming to himself.

The door closed before a clear, cold greeting was muttered behind Owen. “Good evening, agent.”

At hearing the voice, Owen spun around. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out his gun and aimed it at the person the voice belonged to. Very James Bond like. "Who are you?"

The blonde stranger with grey eyes put his hands in the air. “Ah ah ah, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’d be a shame if that little friend of yours didn’t make it back here.” He smirked. “I’m only here to help.”

The unease and tension remained in Owen's stance as he spat out, "I don't need any help."

“Well, of course you don’t think you do. Luckily for you, we know better.” He stepped forward just a bit. “My name’s Adrien. I’m working with a little organisation that I have reason to believe you might be interested in. We call ourselves Chimera.”

He gave a confused look, still aiming his gun at Adrien. "Chimera? I only work for my country."

“For now. But what good is working for just one country when you could be working to protect the world as a whole. See, we believe we have the technology to bring about- what’s the term- world peace. And we think you’d be a great help.” He smirked. 

Owen lowered his gun slowly, cautiously asking, "World peace you say?"

“I do. We understand you’re quite interested in such a concept. Chimera already has a lot of the work done, access to state secrets and the likes, and with your help we could bring about- the end of all wars, the end of fighting, of secrets.”

"There would be nowhere to hide. Everybody would know everything." Owen said, slowly lowering his gun.

“Bingo.” He stepped closer again, grin widening.

Finally Owen re-holstered his gun. "What do you think I could offer?"

“What couldn’t you offer? You’re one of the greatest spies in the world. Intelligent, strong, cunning, the exact kind of person we want working with us. Plus, with your ties with the British government and, as we understand, the American government as well, you could be a great help in keeping tabs on officials and giving them a- gentle push towards world peace.”

Owen mulled over Adrien's words for a moment before asking, "Could I have some time to think this through?"

Adrien nodded, pulling a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Owen. “Think about it. Ring us if you want to talk or join us. We’d love to have you working with us.” He grinned, walking over to the door, opening it. But before leaving, he turned and smirked at Owen. "Enjoy the rest of your night, agent.” Then he's gone.

It was only a minute before Curt came back carrying a few bags (judging by the clinking emitting from them as he moved, it wasn't something substantial). “Heyo! That weird guy bumped into me on the way down- but I’m back!”

Before Curt could see, Owen stuffed the business card into his trouser pocket. "Hello, love. How was your trip out?"

“It was nice. The lady at the convenience store had a cat. So now I am covered in cat hair.” He put the bags on the counter before hopping up and sitting down on the counter beside them. “She was such a tiny little cat, you should’ve seen her. Fit into the palm of my hand.”

"That sounds adorable." Owen said as he had a look in the bags and pulled out the… he internally sighed, booze.

“It was! Her name was Luna and I love her and I’m gonna buy her treats.” He grinned. “And, I got you whiskey. And band aids."

He smiled at that and looked further into the bag to find the bandaids, yet again, sighing at the Johnson's Stars n' Stripes bandaids. He looked at them with a mild look of disgust at the childish packaging before setting them down. "Thank you."

“Knew you’d like them.” He gave a shit eating grin and hopped down, pulling a bottle of red wine out of one of the bags. “Anything super fun or interesting happen while I was out?

"Oh, nothing in particular. I just washed up while waiting for you to come back."

“There was stuff here that needed to be washed?” He looked around before shrugging and looking down at his watch. “Hey, do you think Barb would be impressed or annoyed if I sent her a picture of me with Luna?”

"She would probably gush about it non-stop."

“Fair point.” He just sent it to Owen's watch. The photograph was simply just the top half of Curt's face at the bottom, his eyes smiling, and Luna sat on his head. She was very tiny. “Only your eyes shall be privy to the glory that is Luna, then.”

Owen couldn't help but smile down at the photograph. Goodness, that was quite the photo. "She looks like a little fluff ball."

“Right? Oh- and speaking of work things, I have one job tomorrow and then the rest of the week off, hopefully. In good news, the job is at a carnival. So, yknow, we could... work it together?”

"That sounds splendid."

“Hell yeah it does! It’s like the one fun mission of the month. And it’s gonna be awesome.” He popped open the bottle of wine. “I missed your stupid dorky face.”

Moving over to one of the cupboards, Owen got two glasses out of one of the cupboards and set them down on the counter. "I missed you too."

Curt filled up both glasses, picking one up and taking a sip. Absentmindedly he went to hold Owen's hand because they’re not in public anymore and he can do that now.

Owen took hold of Curt's hand as he picked up his own glass and drank from it. After a while of leaning against the bench on drinking red wine, Owen asked, "Want to watch a bit of telly?"

“Sure, hotel TV is always super weird.” He pulled Owen by the hand and sat on the bed. He placed his glass on the side table thing and turned on the TV. “You can choose the channel.” he said, handing Owen the remote.

"Sure." He said as he set down his own glass and took the TV remote from Curt, putting on a random show.

Curt finally relaxed completely, sitting back against the headboard. After watching the TV for a while, Curt's attention span quickly dwindled so he started up a conversation,  “So, did you get up to anything interesting while you were back in England?”

Owen thought for a moment before responding, "Well, there was this one mission. It was supposed to be quite a simple one. In and out and done in a jiffy. Though, one of the new recruits was behind the scenes and also very not ready for his first time out on the field. He gave us the wrong directions and we immediately went under fire. We killed them all, of course."

Curt looked at Owen with wide eyes. “Oh shit, nice save. Really living up to the ‘one of the greatest spies’ thing, huh?” He chuckled, shuffling a little bit closer to Owen.

"Oh, definitely. What about you, Curt?"

“Eh, been kinda boring. Lot of training, I ran this orientation thing for New Agents or something which went ok- I mean, the actual recruits were terrible but Cynthia said I did a ‘good enough’ job at it, which is a huge compliment.” He shrugged. “Mission today was probably the biggest thing I’ve done in the past two weeks.”

"Well, that certainly seems like fun."

“It was boring. But at least I wasn’t yelled at for doing a shitty job.” He took a drink. “At this point the only times I get fun jobs are when you’re around.”

"How very touching." Owen said as he settled back into the pillows, taking a drink of the wine.

“It’s true! Everything's just more fun with you, I guess. Fuck, that was really cheesy.” He put his glass on the table, turning to lay on his side, facing Owen. “But it’s true. And I love you and your stupid dorky face.”

"And I love you as well, my dear." Owen smiled at him.

He grinned, shuffling up to cuddle into Owen's side. “Remember when you used to say that you’d never even tolerate me?” He sighed. “I remember. And now here we are.”

Owen hummed and wrapped an arm around Curt's back. "It's certainly different then to how we used to be."

“Yeah. I like us better now though.” He smiled which quickly opened up into a yawn causing Owen to chuckle.

"Why don't you get some sleep, love?" He started stroking Curt's hair.

“No. Sleep is for dweebs. On another note, why don’t you go to sleep, Owen?" 

"I'm not tired." 

“You’re just-“ He yawned again. “-Saying that ‘cause you don’t wanna look like a dweeb." 

"I haven't yawned yet. You, on the other hand, have yawned twice now." 

“I’m not yawning, I’m just-“ Yawn “-Breathing.” He cuddled closer into Owen, very obviously tired, trying to avoid being tortured is surprisingly draining.

He gave a soft chuckle and order, "Go to sleep, Curt. 

“Make me.” He said without any heat, practically half asleep. 

Owen rolled his eyes as he set down his glass, wrapping Curt up in both his arms, softly humming as he stroked his hair. The American practically purred at the feeling of Owen's fingers running through his hair. “I love you, Owen.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but definitely still hearable, his eyes slowly fluttered close finally asleep.

"I love you too, Curt." He smiled softly and waited for him to fall deeper into sleep. "But there's something I have to do..." He said as he moved out from beside Curt, lowering him to the bed. Owen took one look at him and left. He has somebody he has to call. 

Somewhere else, Adrien had been waiting by the phone. He knew it wouldn’t be too long before he got a call, so when the line started ringing it, he picked up immediately. “Owen. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"I'm in." 

“I thought you’d say that.” He grinned. “Now, of course we can’t just trust you right off the bat- surely you understand- we need you to do something for us, prove your loyalty and the sorts. We understand your partner has a little- mission tomorrow, correct?" 

He paused for a second, contemplating whether to tell the Chimera head or not. "He does. At a nearby carnival. Why?" 

“Funny story, actually, the trade off he’s trying to stop is one we’re running. Your job is simple, really, distract him from completing his task and let the trade off happen.” 

Could Owen really do this to Curt? He doesn't even know this man- not properly at least. But, does he really have a choice? The first thing Adrien did was threaten to kill Curt so… "I'll do it." 

He grinned evilly. “Excellent. If everything goes accordingly, then you’re in. Any questions?" 

Owen asked the next question in the Hope's of getting some information to appease both parties, "What exactly is the trade off?" 

“It’s not important to your mission, agent. We can’t give you that much trust just yet." 

"Of course." Owen knew an order when he heard one. "I have no further questions." 

“Wonderful. If you do have any, don’t be afraid to call. We’re excited to work with you.” The phone buzz was all that was left.

Just what was Owen doing? He sighed and walked back to the hotel room. He locked the door again and took off his shoes and lay down next to Curt, unable to sleep. 

Having felt the bed dip beside him, Curt cracked an eye open. Barely conscious, he asked, “Why are y' still awake?” 

"It's nothing, love. Go back to sleep." 

“Now ‘m curious.” He shuffled up a bit. “What’s- up?" 

"I just can't sleep, that's all." 

“Have you tried going back to sleep?” He mumbled, cuddling back into Owen. “Y’were acting kinda weird when I came back from the store, too.” Say what you will about Curt Mega's intelligence but he sure knows how to read Owen like an open book.

"Well, no. I haven't. Not yet, at least." 

“Why d’you always go to sleep so late-?” He shuffled his head to rest on Owen's shoulder. “Bad sleep schedule." 

"A spy never rests." Owen smiled, sighing inwardly at what he'd have to do the next day.

“I’m a spy too and I don’t stay up at ungodly hours watching British people bake pastries." Curt yawned.

"It's good TV." Owen defended. "It's especially fun to see them rush about." 

“Of course you would say that, Mr. ‘It’s fun to watch you squirm’." 

"Well, it is." 

“Why? I am suffering, Owen." He moaned.

"Not when it's just us."

He blushed, burying his face in Owen's chest to hide his embarrassment. “Shut up.”

Owen chuckled at Curt being adorable. "You know you love it. 

“Wow, I came here to sleep and I’m being attacked. I can’t believe you would bully me like this.” He said, his voice tinged with mock hurt.

"Don't I always?" The Brit smiled.

“Rude. ‘S your fault I had to walk around with bandaids on my neck ‘cause Barb thought someone just repeatedly punched me in the neck and left bruises. I looked so stupid-"

Owen laughed at Curt's expense. "Oh, yes. That was quite fun."

“For you, maybe. Now go to sleep instead of bullying me, dumb dumb. And if you pull that again, for the love of god don't do them on my neck."

"I won't. Don't worry. And yes, let's try and get some sleep."

“Good. G’night.” He shuffled back down and once again cuddled into Owen because his boyfriend was warm. “I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too, Curt." Owen said back, pressing a kiss on Curt's forehead and lying down on his back, finally sleeping, trying to forget about what he'd have to do the next day.