#curt called owen for the first time in like

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 6: Happy Ending

[kairithemang0]

Man, Curt's got internalized homophobia so bad that for the first 3 months of their relationship he was convinced Owen was straight before Owen had to scream it in his face that he was gay and then Curt spent another 3 months still calling himself straight to Owen's face and Owen's so sick of it like Curt you 2 are actively fucking EVERY TIME YOU SEE EACH OTHER. AND YOU ARE VERY CLEARLY INTO IT. YOU ARE NOT STRAIGHT SIR STOP LYING TO YOURSELF

internalized homophobia agent curt mega ily

[smytherines]

This is such an interesting like 20-30 seconds to me. We go from this wholesome Sears portrait studio setup where Cynthia asks "is that Owen??" and they both grin like lovesick fools

Then Cynthia insults Curt and praises Owen and tries to recruit him. Owen looks surprised and shuts her down immediately, but Curt is (understandably) not thrilled about it and ends the call in a hurry

Owen says "what are you, jealous? You know I'd never work for the Americans," but Curt is already getting the flask out (hello rsd spiral my old friend)

And then we have Owen seeing the flask and saying "Oh Curt, no, not until we're out of here," and Curt responding defensively by mocking his accent and his concern, and then handing him the flask

Whenever I listen to 54 Below and hear Tessa say "when these two spies are together they are gay and unstoppable" I imagine that first image, and when Lauren says "until Curt's ego gets in the way" I think of the flask

I just find it fascinating because, to me, this is the moment it all starts falling apart. When it was just the two of them, before this call, they seem pretty happy to see each other. You certainly get the sense that they're competitive, and Curt initially seems a bit annoyed or embarrassed about Owen rescuing him, but uhh. I mean just look at them:

It isn't until Cynthia sort of pits them against each other, until the outside world starts to intrude on them, that things start to get tense. Curt starts dismissing Owen's concerns and taking bigger risks to prove himself, lying to Owen to take a bigger risk than Owen agreed to (Owen saying "make it four," and Curt deciding to set the timers for three minutes instead)

Just. Something about how painful it must have been for Curt to believe that he lost Owen not to some grand fateful accident that he never could have seen coming, but over something as small and petty and ultimately temporary as his own insecurity. That he wanted so badly to save face in front of a partner he loved and respected that he ended up getting that partner killed

And how painful it must have been for Owen to love Curt and trust him, only for Curt to lie to him and leave him for dead. How Owen must have thought back to this a thousand times and believed that it happened because Curt cared more about being the best than about him (which I don't think is correct, but is understandable from his perspective)

To have the kind of relationship that seemingly survived being separated by an ocean, and being property of two different governments, and being gay in the 1950s, and they still look at each other like that, and then to lose it all because you're so used to having to maintain this stereotypically masculine role in your hypermasculine profession. That seeing the man you love is dependent on you being the best, and trying to live up to that impossible standard is what ends up destroying the both of you

There's just something so fucking... tragic and futile about it

[inamindfarfaraway]

Hnnng dehumanisation in Spies are Forever. Curt's “not a man, [he's] property of the United States government". Tatiana wasn't a child, she was an “instrument of war”, a “killing machine". It’s particularly poignant that Barb calls Curt property of their government, a cog in the machine, because she knows that she’s in the same boat, and in fact socially inferior to him as both a woman and a support worker to his more prestigious career. She herself has always seen and valued him as a person and is constantly trying to make him reciprocate. But he initially views her as just a cool gadget dispenser. Technology appears to be her only means of asserting her worth and earning people’s attention, which might be why she’s working on a global information network, essentially the internet - the ultimate technological platform for human connection and collaboration. Cynthia is so committed to overcoming her human vulnerability in order to be the best tool her country could possibly ask for that she poisons herself every day to build up an immunity. One of the villains is a literal Nazi who uses a literal puppet. And the other is Owen.

Owen's evil vision is "turning everyone into a spy", aka property. Instruments for him to conduct. Creating a global surveillance network, because the internet has as much power to distance and isolate people as to unite them. The machine failed him when he was a cog in it, so he aims to replace it with a more efficient one and control it this time; he cannot comprehend of any ethical improvement to or dismantling of the machine itself. His problem with spies is that they contaminate the ruthless political mechanisms with messy, fallible humanity... and vice versa. Agent Mega messed up the mission because he was human; Curt left his boyfriend for dead because he was a spy. You can’t be both. Person or tool. So Owen chooses the one that can’t be hurt. He willingly becomes a tool of CHIMERA, a living weapon. He kills and tortures hundreds of people, considers himself an actor in a story and others expendable characters, does everything he can to detach himself from ideas of personhood. “Who needs spies when a box in a room can do your job in seconds?" Humanity is worthless. Obsolete.

Except no, it isn't. Curt and his allies proves it. After the prologue, Curt simultaneously makes Owen’s mistake of binary thinking. First he wants to be purely a man, and an absolute wreck of one; then he wants to be purely the greatest spy ever, with no sentimental weaknesses. But he can’t maintain that divide. He has to be both. The team win with their skills, training and expertise and by being human - social, irrational animals, working together, loving each for the sake of it, acting spontaneously. They aren’t tools that Owen can perfectly predict and manipulate. Curt surprises him. And Owen, for all his icy calculations and grand talk, cannot escape his humanity any more than he can destroy Curt’s, as his last scene makes painfully clear. He lowers his gun like a person. His voice breaks like one. He bleeds like one. Meanwhile, Barb is a genius engineer and Tatiana is a master assassin. You’d think that their climactic moment of triumph would demonstrate Barb’s amazing technology or Tatiana’s combat skills, but instead the focus is on them simply talking to each other and even Mrs Mega. Human connection and collaboration. Human error that doesn’t negate their victory. “You can break a computer box, but you can’t break the will of a man.” That’s what Curt is. Not property. A man. He is a gay, unemployed man; Barb is a woman in STEM; Tatiana is a female ex-KGB Russian immigrant; all in the United States of America in the 1960s, a very bad time and place to be all of those things. Yet they will survive. They are not alone and they will endure. Spies are forever because they are people.

And the narrative consistently emphasises that everybody is a person! It mocks the Nazis, obviously, but even then Baron von Nazi isn’t a one-dimensional monster, he has emotions and cognitive biases and a backstory and fondness for cheeseburgers. Sergio isn’t just an interchangeable criminal, he’s a devoted family man awkwardly trying to lighten his work atmosphere. Richard Big isn’t just a crass parody, he has moral principles. We hear all kinds of characters’ thoughts and feelings: the Informant, Barb’s fellow scientists, the waiter at the casino, the guests at the gala. This affirmation that everyone has a inner life means that yes, anyone can be a spy.

[bow-of-aros]

A Debt Unpaid

Summary:

Curt couldn't have at least waited a little longer before getting captured? At least Owen could show him this cool feather he found :)

I went into this wanting to practice writing with a bit more detail and I think I got more than I bargained for. No I wasn't blushing writing this shut the fuck up. ANYWAYS I hope that you enjoy these silly gay spies and their stupid adventures and Owen getting to be evil in a fun silly sexy way because I sure did <333

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

The click of the safety disengaging echoed through the room, swiftly followed by the cold barrel of a gun being pressed against the back of Owen’s head. Honestly, the fact that someone had managed to sneak up on him disturbed him more than the actual firearm did.

Nobody should’ve been able to get the drop on him. Curt was on this mission with Owen and he’d agreed (after far too much coercion) to stand watch while Owen cracked the safe as he had more expertise in this particular model.

But, this man was here, and Curt wasn’t, which likely meant—

“We have your partner.” Yeah, that.

Owen heaved a long-suffering sigh, “Already? We just bloody got here, for Christ’s sake!”

Sure, Curt had a tendency to make stupid decisions on missions. But did it really have to be so soon? He knew that he should’ve kept an ear out, just in case.

The gun nudged against the back of Owen’s head, reminding him of its presence, “We’ve got you too,�� the voice said, “So don’t get all uppity about it. We’re going to take you back to your friend, tie you nice and snug so you can’t move when we torture you, and then he’s going to tell us everything he knows.”

At some point, Owen needed to have a conversation with the first person to monologue their so-called “evil plan.” He’s not sure whether it would be to scold or thank them, but he’d probably figure it out.

“So you don’t plan on starting on him until I’m there? That’s good to know. Now, just give me one moment if you wouldn’t mind—”

It was almost embarrassing how easy it was to disarm the man. By the time he pulled the trigger, Owen had already redirected his aim and the bullet whizzed harmlessly past his ear. The crunch of his fingers as Owen twisted the gun out of his grasp was nearly drowned out by the bullet firing up through his jaw.

As the man fell to the ground, Owen spotted another in the doorway who reacted just a second too slow, clearly not having expected his colleague’s death, and he hit the floor just moments after the first.

Owen took a brief moment to disarm them both, listening for footsteps that didn’t come, muttering to himself all the while.

He went back to the safe, making quick work of it. “Oooo look at me! I’m Curt Mega! I tell my partner that I’m going to keep watch and then immediately leave him to be shot because I probably saw something shiny on the ground!”

The door swings open and Owen swiftly tucked the blueprints that they’d been sent to find into an interior pocket in his jacket. He was just about to close the door when he noticed a set of quills carefully tucked along the side.

One of the more pompous ones found a home alongside the blueprints, if only to make Curt laugh with its reveal. He’d probably make some jab about Owen finally being a ‘proper Englishman’ or some other inane claim.

Speaking of Curt, he probably shouldn’t be kept waiting any longer than necessary. They may have wanted Owen to aid with questioning, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t get started without him.

Owen slipped out of the room, moving through the shadows and bringing the knife he always keeps, quite literally, up his sleeve into his palm. Just because nobody had come running at the two gunshots didn’t give Owen any room to get sloppy.

Shadows are his best friend and he makes sure to stick close, slitting the throat of any unfortunate soul who crossed his path before they could make enough noise to alert anyone else to his presence. All the while, he kept a keen ear out for Curt’s voice. Knowing him, that would be what Owen heard before anything else.

And, of course, Owen was proven right mere moments later when he heard “You call that a punch?! My grandma can hit harder than that and she’s been dead since I was two—OW! What the fuck was that for?”

“Your friend will be here any moment,” A man with a thick Russian accent spoke, which was odd considering they weren’t in Russia last time Owen checked. He was big and burly and certainly someone that he was going to have to look into after they were finished. “I’m sure that when you hear his pretty little cries, you will be more inclined to speak. Or perhaps we will try it the other way around? That way I can have some real fun with you, da?”

That was…not exactly reassuring.

“You’re a fucking creep, did you know that?” Oh Curt, always so eloquent.

Owen peered into the room through the window in the door and was shocked to be presented with a clear line of sight. With all the effort he put into getting here, this was honestly quite disappointing.

Well, he’s not one to look a waste an opportunity such as this, so Owen wastes no time in lining up his shot and pulling the trigger. An arm flies up to his face to shield it from shards of glass and he opens his eyes once more to the Russian dead on the ground, blood pooling from a perfect shot to the head.

“My my, Agent Mega,” Owen swung the door open with a flourish because he had earned the right to be a little dramatic goddamnit, “We really have to stop meeting like this.”

Admittedly, a bit of his ire did melt away at the beaming smile Curt directed at him. Lucky for him, Owen had quite a bit of ire stored up, so it didn’t make much of a difference.

At Owen’s dry stare, Curt’s grin morphed into something a bit more sheepish as he said “It was an accident this time!”

Jesus Christ. “Are you implying that there were times that you were caught on purpose?”

Matters were not helped by Curt’s unapologetic shrug, “I get bored sometimes.”

A bruise was already blooming across Curt’s right cheekbone and Owen took a deep breath to restrain himself from making it symmetical.

Curt was bound securely to a chair, as these things typically went, and faced an identical chair with restraints that Owen assumed were meant for him. A brief survey of the situation led Owen to see that these ties would not be swiftly undone, or not swiftly enough, at least.

Or, that’s just what he told Curt, but who’s keeping track?

“I don’t want to take any risks, so I’m going to do a sweep of the building and dispose of any stragglers,” Owen said, smirking as Curt’s jaw dropped slightly, “I’ll return as soon as I’m able to free you. Maybe take this time to consider what landed you in this situation.”

He turned and walked back out the door to Curt’s “Owen? Owen don’t leave me here! I swear to God—Owen!”

It didn’t take long to finish his sweep, anyone Owen hadn’t originally found or had made their escape was dealt with. And then he did one more quick survey for anything he might’ve missed.

Just in case.

The view Owen was greeted with as he returned was certainly a gratifying one. Curt sat slumped in his seat, staring sullenly at the door as his bottom lip jutted out slightly. He looked like a kid put in the timeout corner, which is exactly what he was at the moment.

“So,” He said, walking forward and leaning down until he was inches away from Curt’s face, “What did we learn from this?”

Curt just rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, so Owen leaned in a little closer. “What was that?”

“Don’t get distracted when I’m supposed to be watching your back.” At least he looked a little remorseful, so there was that as consolation.

Owen reached out to give him an approving, if slightly condescending scratch under his chin. “Good boy. Now—oh?”

Red began to seep into Curt’s features as Owen wrested his hand from where it had been trapped between Curt’s chin and his chest. His partner’s lips were sealed shut, likely to prevent any more sounds like that choked-off squeal from escaping.

But it was too late, and Owen longed to chase that noise.

“Ah yes, sorry, I must have forgotten about your little weakness.” Owen tucked his hands into his pockets as he circled Curt, surveying for weaknesses. He leaned in close from behind and whispered, “What a truly unfortunate position to be trapped in. If only someone had advised you against doing anything stupid before this mission began.”

As his breath ghosted against Curt’s neck, he took note of the violent shiver paired with the suppressed flinch at the sensation, and an idea began to form.

Of course, Curt did what he was so prone to doing, and started talking. “Look, Owen! Why don’t we just call this whole thing a mistake on my end and get going, huh? I’ll scan the blueprints and you can take the actual thing because I know how much you Brits love your filing. Whaddaya say to that, old boy?”

Oh, he was nervous. Risking Cynthia’s wrath in an attempt to appease Owen was a dangerous game, and he was almost tempted by the way his voice wavered near the end.

But… “We both know that you were going to let me take them anyway.” Owen unzipped his coat, “You know, I found something that I think you’ll enjoy with me being a proper Brit and all.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Thrown by the abrupt change in topic, Curt tried to crane his head to see what Owen was talking about, but Owen made sure to keep what he was doing firmly out of sight.

He withdrew the feather from his inner pocket, twirling it between his fingers before swiping it questioningly across the nape of Curt’s neck and oh, reaping the rewards of situations like these was a beautiful, wonderful thing.

A sound that was nothing short of a scream tore itself out of Curt’s throat and the chair that Owen would’ve sworn was bolted to the floor just shifted under the force of Curt trying to throw himself bodily away.

Silence echoed for a brief moment before Curt cracked. “Owen! You don’t have to do this! Look, I’ll do anything you want!”

Huh. “Anything?”

“Yes, you fucker!”

Owen wished that he could bottle up this moment and keep it forever. He’d never want for anything else.

“Well then,” He ran a soothing hand through Curt’s hair before gripping it tight and whispering in his ear, “Laugh for me, love.”

With Curt’s head near immobilized, Owen got to work. He was just as methodical and precise in this venture as he would be in any mission, cataloguing gasps and squeaks and squeals with a single-minded focus employed only in interrogation rooms.

To start, he slowly dragged the feather across the nape of Curt’s neck, waited a brief moment, then did it again. The fist in his hair kept him still enough and his pleading fell on deaf, uncaring ears.

It seemed as though his pitch jumped when the feather was centered, brushing over the top of his spine.

So, when Owen decided to focus his attention a bit more on that spot, “OWEN! Ohohohohohowen holyshit fuhuhucking PLEHEHEASE! Shitshitshit sohohohohohomewhere ehehelse!”

Taking careful note of the lack of the words no or stop, Owen decided to acquiesce and move so he was facing his partner. For the first time since this truly began, Owen was able to get a good, proper look at Curt’s face.

And he was glowing.

Owen nearly had the breath knocked out of him by the sheer beauty of the man in front of him. A wide smile was plastered across his face and his eyes were shining. However, some of that may be due to the few stray tears that had begun trickling out and that Owen tenderly wiped away with his thumb, smile softening when Curt leaned into the touch.

“You,” Curt huffed, “Are an evil man, Owen Carvour. Do you plan on letting me out any time soon?”

A hum reverberated through Owen’s chest as he contemplated before firmly grasping Curt’s chin, angling his head up to look him in the eye. “My fun’s only just started, love. But, I’m sure that I could be persuaded to show a little mercy. You did miss out on your interrogation, after all.”

Curt’s breaths were coming in sharp bursts, eyes glued to the feather inching ever closer, “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“Well, I’m feeling rather generous so I’ll make this easy. Simply admit that I’m the better spy and we can be on our merry way.” Owen’s lips curled in a challenging grin, watching Curt’s eyes snap up to his, narrowed.

It was an out, simple as that. Owen was giving Curt the opportunity to ask for this to stop with minimal damage to his ego. He wasn’t a monster, the moment he sensed genuine discomfort was the moment he stopped.

Which is why, when Curt’s response was “Kiss my ass, Carvour,” Owen didn’t feel even a shred of remorse.

“It’s your funeral. Let me know when you change your mind, agent.” He angled Curt’s head a little higher and fluttered the feather under his chin, revelling in the frantic laughter that immediately spilled from his lips.

He stayed there for a while, exploring, learning that tracing his jaw elicited breathy giggles while dusting over his collarbones drew out little snorts in between. All the while, Curt tugged desperately at his bonds, cursed Owen out in several languages, and laughed.

But not once did he tell Owen to stop.

And then, Owen’s hand slipped, and the feather curled around Curt’s ear.

“SHIT!” Curt froze for a moment, shocked by his own reaction. He looked up at Owen and a spark of fear entered his eyes. “Now, baby, we can talk about this!”

“Talk all you want, Mega. There’s only one thing I want to hear.” Still, Owen waited a few moments for a concession that never came, just in case.

Nothing. “Suit yourself.”

His first attempt at threading his weapon of choice behind Curt’s ear was met with a jolt so fierce that Owen almost feared that he’d given himself whiplash. For his own safety, Owen pressed a firm hand against Curt’s cheek, holding it still so as to prevent any potential injuries.

Then, excruciatingly slowly, Owen dragged the feather along the shell of his ear, allowing some of the fronds to slip behind and dance across vulnerable skin.

Curt’s mouth dropped open in a soundless scream before words came rushing back to him. “NononononONONONO OHOHOHOHOWEN PLEASE! I CAHAHAHAN’T! SHITSHITSHIT NAHAHAHAH HAVE MEHEHERCY!”

And since none of those were the correct words, Owen switched over to his other ear, giving it the same treatment. For a few moments, he darted back and forth, occasionally swiping across his neck to keep him guessing.

Owen looked at the feather curiously. All this commotion over something so delicate, he truly would never understand this man he’d somehow fallen in love with. As an experiment, he stuck the feather into Curt’s ear and twisted it.

That’s when Curt went from cracked to shattered.

“OKAY! OKAHAHAHAY I GIVE! YOHOHOU’RE THE BEHEHEHETTER SPY!”

At that, Owen immediately withdrew, tucking the quill into his pocket for safekeeping as he worked to undo the binds.

They were expertly done, just as he’d suspected, and Curt certainly wasn’t helping matters slouched over the way he was. But Owen didn’t say anything and Curt was very nearly recovered by the time he was done.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” Owen crouched down between Curt’s legs to look up at him, placing gentle hands on his knees. “Do I need to carry you out of here or can you walk?”

Curt just flipped him off before standing, ignoring the slight wobble in his balance as he found his footing. “What, that? That was nothing!” Owen reached a hand threateningly towards his pocket, prompting a nervous step back, “Wait no I’m sorry! You win I lose and all that.”

A smug smile situated itself on Owen’s face. “Yes, well, let this be a lesson to you to try and avoid this situation in the future. Perhaps next time I will have to use the other side of the quill.”

“You don’t have to do that!” Curt quickly made his way out of the room.

Owen trailed after him, musing “I could write my name. Let everyone know exactly who it is that you belong to.” He smirked at the slight stumble in Curt’s step, “Or I could simply write Curt is ticklish over and over again. What do you think?”

“What I think,” Curt whirled around, blush high on his cheeks, “Is that I’m fucking exhausted and need some sleep. To make up for this, you better be in that fucking bed with me or so help me God I will—”

“Can’t make up for something that you so clearly enjoyed.” Owen cut him off, thoroughly enjoying the way Curt gaped as he stumbled over his words.

“I—I didn’t—You little.” He took a deep breath and composed himself, “I did not like it and you owe me.”

Owen heaved a put-upon sigh, as though sleeping while holding the love of his life in his arms was some sort of chore and not the one thing he would rather be doing for the rest of his natural life. “I suppose. It’s never good to leave a debt unpaid, you know.”

Seemingly satisfied, Curt continued leading them out of the building, leaving Owen to mutter to himself, “It seems as though making you admit it shall have to wait until next time.”

It was always good to have something to look forward to, after all.

[abitofboth]

owen carvour hcs because he’s in my brain always

he's very reservedly sentimental. the things in his life that mean a lot to him will always have a special place in his heart, but he'd never tell anyone that. his favourite childhood book, a lighter curt gifted him, old letters and photographs etc.

his favourite childhood book is the hobbit. when he was a kid he'd draw in the margins and go through and underline his favourite parts. his childhood pet was a fluffy cat called bilbo!!

left handed. constantly curses out his pens when he's writing and gets ink smudges all over his hand.

an only child, and was never really that close with his parents. his relationship with them grew strained once they found out he was gay.

would happily never interact with a dog for the rest of his life if he could help it. (too slobbery, loud, and boisterous for his liking.)

biiiiig smoker. his hands get twitchy if he hasn't had a cig in a while. he constantly spews some bs about the refined taste of tobacco.

similarly he's a big time wine snob. he gets offended if you suggest it tastes like vinegar and he'll try with all his might to convince you that the aromatics matter.

definitely has a sprinkling of road rage in him. in his opinion he is always in the right, and everyone else on the road needs their license taken from them.

teeny tiny tattoo on his hip of two intertwined mars symbols (♂)

'love' is a name he uses for pretty much everyone on accounts of him being british, but he's much more fond of using 'darling' and 'sweetheart' as pet names when it's just him and curt.

he LOVES the quiet moments between him and curt when they get to spend the night together. watching over him as he falls asleep and running his fingers through his hair are some of his favourite things to do.

he can be surprisingly bashful! talk sweet to him and he’ll blush like hell. pepper kisses over him and he’ll be squirming and giggling like there’s no tomorrow.

he's welsh but moved to london when he was a teenager. he taught himself to speak in an rp accent so he wouldn't be looked down on, and it just kind of stuck. not many people know that he's welsh, not necessarily because he doesn't tell anyone but no one’s ever asked because as far as everyone else is aware, he’s as english as you can get. when he's tired he can slip back into his old accent, and he uses the odd welsh word every now and then around people close to him (mostly curt.)

the first house he lived in in london got destroyed during the blitz, and luckily most of what few possessions he owned survived. he doesn't like to talk about his time during the war often.

after the fall, he gets tinnitus and his hearing is far from as good as it used to be. he lost his right eye, and the glass eye chimera got him has never quite been a perfect colour match. he has trouble with his knee, and has a decent amount of scarring over his body.

post fall there's a part of him that still loves curt, and desperately misses what used to be. it's mostly overpowered by the hatred within him, but the love rears its head out every now and again and catches him off guard.

he likes to cook, but he's kinda shit at it. he doesn't get much practice on accounts of being a spy, so whenever he does cook, something inevitably goes wrong.

once, he'd moved into a new flat and had curt round as his first guest and tried to cook him dinner. it ended up burning and there were full on flames in the frying pan. (curt still takes the piss out of him for this years later.)

he's a bit of a loner, but enjoys his own company for the most part. outside of curt he doesn't really have any close friends, and he isn't in contact with his family.

he has an angry streak in him. he’s easily riled up and the first emotion he goes to is barely concealed rage. he yells more often than he’d like to.

he hates using the term 'boyfriend' to describe curt. he thinks it makes him sound juvenile and he prefers 'partner' way more. plus, he can get away with introducing curt without giving away the fact that they’re together. (he also loves calling curt his 'best friend' in the most romantic sense possible.)

this! bitch! loves! musicals! the wizard of oz is a favourite of his, and he has a soft spot for disney’s cinderella. he has an extra fondness for the term ‘friend of dorothy’ because of this too.

tea over coffee always. two sugars and a splash of milk, not too weak but not too strong.

[whizzvin-welcome-here]

Forgot to post at the time so here’s some things from the spies are forever london concert:

- Joey calling Curt and Owen ‘friends of Dorothy’ within the first five minutes

- Starkid and tcb maintaining their strict adherence to the Zero Budget Lifestyle meant everyone had finger guns which really added to it tbh

- Joey confidently calling the audience ‘guys, gals and binary pals’

- The singer from the beginning of the show just absolutely eating up and then disappearing

- I’m pretty sure somebody yelled ‘this is satire’ in the middle of Not So Bad

- Also everyone doing gay hands to avoid the full salute in that song PLS

- MANY lyric changes in We Love The Prince (Tin can bros clearly going out of their way not to get tin can cancelled)

- Everyone screaming for Clark Baxtresser like god intended

[szollibisz]

do u have any HCs abt mama mega and Curt and Tatiana… they are SO important to me as a little family

yessss i love them dearly <3

Tatiana is one of those people who don't like making a huge deal out of their birthdays, but Curt knows Mrs. Mega would absolutely go overboard in celebrating it. So him and Tati keep saying random dates hoping she'll forget them eventually (both of them feel kind of bad about it, but not enough to not do it) But Mrs. Mega catches on, and one day calls them out on it and they just both end up sitting there like little kids getting scolded by their mom. When they come clean about why they did it, Mrs. Mega tells them that they should've just told her. She still ends up making Tatiana's birthdays a bigger deal than she wants them to, but she is toned down compared to herself. She also wishes her a happy bday on all the fake dates they gave her, just to remind them.

Curt and Tatiana are generally pretty physically affectionate with each other, but keep that to a minimum when Mrs. Mega is around in fear that she will marry them right then and there.

Tatiana isn't used to good food, she'll honestly just eat whatever is in front of her. She also has a habit of not reheating leftovers if she's tired, and sometimes either Curt or his mom catch her eating cold 3 days old leftovers and they both have the exact same disapproving expression.

Mrs. Mega is a super active member of basically any elderly club in the area, be that bingo, dancing, knitting etc. Which comes with a lot of drama. Whenever she gets back from a controversy-filled day, she always tells Curt and Tatiana in detail. At first Curt thinks it's really embarrassing, but seeing how Tatiana is amused, he also starts to get into it. Like Really into it. That guy would be soooo bitchy and gossipy if he actually had a social life. In the end the 3 of them just gossip about elderly ladies and their affairs over dinner every time they get together.

If Tatiana's mom and Mrs. Mega met they would instantly become besties, but they would also argue every 2 seconds.

Tatiana sleeps the most calmly when she's in the safehouse. It was one of the first places she truly felt safe and relaxed in after being on the run for so long, and that feeling never went away. Also Mrs. Mega absolutely has 500 blankets and pillows in that house, so it's kind of impossible to not sleep super cozily. Plus Tati has her personal space heater (Curt) if the blankets don't suffice

Speaking of heat, Tati has pretty bad tolerance for it, so she doesn't really visit Guadalupe during the summer

Curt and Tatiana have a lot of mental issues due to all the violence they've done witnessed and endured. After Owen "died" Curt didn't have anyone who understood that aspect of his life. And for Tatiana, some other girls she was trained alongside with were genuinely her friends, but after she escaped she really couldn't contact anyone she knew, nor make civil friends, lest she puts them in danger. So they are super important to each other when dealing with extended effects of espionage™. Comforting each other, keeping Curt out of his depressive spirals, and helping Tatiana adjust to a normal life.

Tatiana, growing up in the soviet union, is not used to a lot of the new modern stuff in the us. She reads a lot of magazines and tells Curt to buy himself whatever caught her eyes that day. He has to tell her that no, he's not getting a second washing machine or a second fridge, just because it's "really cool"

IIIiiiiiii could go on, but I am tired, so I won't. Hope you like these.

[snarky-wallflower]

okay. i'm finally gonna try my hand at this analysis thing. @kmesons, i hope you don't mind that i've been spinning this in my head since yesterday.

for a bit of context, it's a bit of a running joke that i'm in my "curtwen arc" with a bunch of people - just a silly joke, right? and i always, always play curt.

oh boy, i don't think anything stays a joke in the spies fandom for long.

so. let's talk about how curt has been mourning a ghost for four years. let's talk about how he replayed the memories of their time together over and over again in his mind, of laughter and quick shots and the love there. let's talk about how curt has tried to commit every part of the owen he knew to memory - after all, "owen would want me to do this, so i know that i'll get through this". let's talk about how curt has spent four years lost in drink and regret and the memories of the man he thinks he killed. those memories are all he has left of owen - what else can he cling to?

let's talk about how curt saw owen for the first time, alive, and was taken aback by the sheer hate in owen's voice as he made reference after reference to the fall, casually insulting curt, calling him a fool and a coward. about how owen had given up on the beliefs that had first brought them together.

(the owen he knew never would have done that. the owen he knew was one of the few people he knew that treated him as an adult, as someone who was more than just a cocky spy. )

let's talk about curt chasing after owen, chasing after a ghost - but this time, he's physical, alive and real. curt could reach out and touch him this time, if he wasn't so sure that owen would take it as a strike, a blow to hurt. curt isn't even sure if it isn't that yet. owen still won't stop taunting curt, dragging him ever-so-closer to the edge, as a spiralling pit opens up in curt's stomach. owen is so cruel, so unlike the man he lost four years ago. the memories they shared are dissolving, falling just like owen did, as every insult, every blow reopens old wounds.

old wounds that owen had once helped him stitch together.

(the owen he knew would have rolled his eyes, would have made snippy comments as they traded blows, but he had loved curt. curt knows this like he knows the back of his hand. it's been four years. has he been wrong all this time?)

(god, what does it mean if he has been?)

curt has spent so long sustaining himself on memories of the time they shared that he just can't look at owen and not see the man he used to be. curt doesn't even blame owen for hating him, really. curt hates himself most days, too. but this? what about the beliefs they shared? what about making a difference? on the staircase, he can barely look owen in the eyes anymore, so utterly terrified of seeing what the man he loved has become. a poltergeist, a revenant, something dead walking the earth with hate in his heart. how he rants and raves, trying to get curt to see, which curt utterly refuses to. curt tries so frantically to reach out, to make owen someone he can save, but owen will never, ever be that person for curt again. there are so many versions of this scene, aren't there? but in this one, in so many, in every world where curt and owen simply cannot communicate--

(the owen he knew doesn't exist anymore.)

let's talk about how curt raised his gun. at the man he loved, at the man he spent so long mourning.

let's talk about how curt stared up at owen, raising his gun to his temple, and recognized both so much and so little in those eyes, in him. let's talk about how he recognized the spark in owen's eyes, but not the sheer betrayal behind it. how he knew the exact colour of those eyes, but not the tremble in owen's voice as he demanded to know what curt was doing.

the man he loved wasn't there anymore.

let's talk about how curt pulled the trigger.

let's talk about how curt has to live with that for the rest of his life, but he still pulled the trigger. how owen carvour after the fall was someone curt couldn't save, who didn't want to be saved.

...but especially not by curt.

after mourning a ghost for four years, agent curt mega ended it for good.

agent curt mega killed a ghost. but he killed a ghost with owen's face and owen's wit, owen's anger - you can't break the will of a man, but you can do so much worse, if you try. and oh, how curt's tried to destroy himself over the years. how he's just now destroyed the shell of a man that he built his love around, and then his grief, and then both again as owen carvour falls to the floor.

it will haunt curt. for however much longer he lives.

spies aren't forever. curt knows this better than anyone.

[dr-docktor]

About Floppy Disk Curt... So, do you have some more plot made for this au? Sorry if you made a post and I missed it, I just mean - how does Owen realize that Curt is (semi) sentient? What does he do? How sentient is Curt, actually? What does he remember? And how much can he feel? Does their codependence get worse?

HAHAHA I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED. I sort of expanded on some of the lore in some previous asks but none of it is super organized so I can go over it real quick! I'm still developing a lot of it so if things don't make a ton of sense, I'm working on fixing that lol. First off, I sort of shifted the time period around to be closer to the 90's to better fit the technology, aesthetics, and the rise in popularity of mascot-y desktop assistants.

Owen kills Curt during the staircase scene and despite what he tells himself and his coworkers. He regrets it. He regrets it so god damned much. There's no one to feel so strongly about anymore, whether it be love or seething hatred. He just feels empty.

Meanwhile, Chimera retrieved Curt's corpse and uploaded his consciousness into a computer with the hopes of getting what little he knows about the inner workings of A.S.S. out of him. (don't ask how this is possible, uhhhh silly sci-fi shenanigans I guess)

Of course, he's not cooperative. So Chimera opts to do the totally sane and not evil thing by separating himself from his memories of being human. His ambitions, his relationships, everything except for what Chimera needs. They can't seem to find a way to outright delete the memories for good (I'll probably either rework this part or figure out why they can't outright delete them) but what they can do is try and build up walls of restrictions to prevent him from accessing them. So for a a little while he's just this blank slate spitting out what little information he knows about A.S.S. Mostly useless.

Until Chimera gets an idea.

With the rise of a new trend comes the opportunity for PROFIT. This one being the rise of household computers and mascot-y desktop assistants to help the average user learn how to use a computer.

But Chimera wants to take it a step further. They are the future, after all. They want a desk top assistant that's incredibly life-like. Something that the user can have a genuine conversation with (like an incredibly early chatbot). This project is also absolutely meant to be spy-ware. 1000%. No way its not.

They call the project the 'Beta Anatomy Simulacrum Technology for Research and Development'. Or B.A.S.T.R.D for short! (I had to STRETCH to make that acronym work lmao)

Rather than start this from scratch, the project head (The name I'm going with right now is Harper Royale) has the brilliant thought of "well, what's more life-like than an actual human consciousness in a computer that we have collecting dust somewhere in the tech labs? It's already a husk we just add some code to it and bam it's ready!"

So they take the empty husk of digital curt mega and fix it up a little. Royale thinks its a good idea to give a miniscule amount of his humanity back to him. Namely curiosity (so he can learn things) and a basic understanding of how to have a functional conversation with people. Nearly everything else, like the cheery personality and character model, is all added in by the developers.

The good news is the projects going great! Employees within Chimera are finding the little guy really helpful and entertaining. Employees nickname him DC as a reference to his knowledge on A.S.S. Like their own personal informant inside DC (as in the capital of the us where a lot of government buildings and information is stored)

The bad news? Curiosity. Because now he wants to know why the sad looking British guy from one of the first few rounds of test trials keeps calling him Curt.

Tt spirals into this terrible loop of DC starting to put stuff together, never quite reaching the conclusion that he was a living person once (much less the importance of one Owen Carvour) before the employees catch on to what he's doing and reset him from square one. Over and Over and Over again. The only frame of reference that DC has are these hidden notes he leaves himself during each loop.

Eventually the higher-ups at Chimera realize that the cost of having to go through the complicated process of resetting DC the moment they figure out that he's gained a little sentience and then run through test trials AGAIN simply outweighs the potential profit. So they move to shut down the project, much to Royale's dismay.

The higher-ups joke that Carvour should be the one to do the honors, given everything between him and Curt. And he's like "ok yeah I'll do it" and they're like "we were joking but you've given us zero reason to doubt you so have fun killing the simulacrum of your former closest friend, bestie"

Owen, of course, decides to go behind everyone's backs and download the one and only existing copy of the B.A.S.T.R.D program onto his personal computer. At this point, Owen has no clue about DC slowly regaining his sentience if left unchecked and literally only did it because he has problems about processing the fact that he killed Curt that he refuses to confront. (what a normal guy)

So slowly, having been freed from this loop of resets, DC slowly begins to put together the pieces. He doesn't know how exactly Owen may or may not be involved in any of this, but he keeps most of this growing autonomy a secret for safety reasons. Just in case Owen is decidedly someone not to be trusted and turns him in.

DC, however, will test still the waters by subtly bringing up memories that he knows are somehow important to either him or Owen and then gauging his reaction. Doing his damn best to put together context clues.

Admittedly I don't have anything beyond this yet. I'm still working on Owen's reactions to all of this and also how the technology works. But I hope this answers at least some of your questions!

[yourlocalabomination]

HIW WAS SPIES?????

IT WAS INCREDIBLE!!!! OH MY GOD!!!

I’m using the ask as an excuse to ramble a bit. But here are my thoughts after attending the evening show.

Honestly spies was such a fantastic experience for me, from all the people I met to the actual performance itself (I refuse to call it a concert- they advertised it as such but so much of it was acted out that it because a fully fledged performance).

All of the actors sang beautifully and absolutely nailed the acting, which is highly impressive considering this is their first time with the script.

I met so many people who I had previously met at innit, multiple artist mutuals and a bunch more peeps that knew me for my artwork. I came with around 80 of my own prints and walked away with none! I also received a plethora of artwork from other people and a hoard of bracelets.

The wonderful @thelesbiandeli gifted me a spare program signed by the Tin Brothers themselves! Thank you so much again for that! I then managed to get the rest of the cast to sign my program at stage door. The Tin Boys themselves did not do any signatures at stage door, however they did hand out some left over signed posters. I managed to get the final one from Brian.

It was just an incredible performance. You really have to have watched SAF to fully understand/appreciate the show as lots of parts were cut down for time, with Joey and Brian acting as narrators (or the characters themselves narrating parts). It was highly comedy based, with over dramatisation playing into moments where in the YT vid it cuts away- such as when Oliver Ormson (Owen) had to essentially slowly fall to the floor and crawl into position to show he slipped on the banana peel (YES THEY USED A REAL BANANA PEEL). Or when Jak Malone (Dr Baron Von Nazi) was stabbed in the back, to get off the stage he stood up, did dramatic and overly preformy bows while everyone cheers, to then strut off stage- all while Curt and Tati watched (“what the hell just happened??? -Curt). Despite the overall comedic take of the whole show the staircase scene was indeed still filled with emotions.

Overall was just an phenomenal time, and it would have made a fantastic digital ticket I would buy immediately.

(Tumblr is really not liking my trying to upload the spy dance so you can watch it here)

[kairithemang0]

Sorry I can’t sleep here’s a post on Curt and his self confidence that’s so low it’s hilarious

Curt’s opinion of himself is heavily dictated on what other people feel about him. During all of a1p1 before the call with Cynthia, he’s collected and cool and showing his skills as a great spy. Because he is a great spy. He’s one of the best. Then, the second we get to the call with Cynthia, his demeanor changes. She says that Owen’s the only one who knows what they’re doing and then tries to recruit him. This is where Curt changes for the worst in this scene, instantly starting to drink.

He’s sorta lost his flow a bit, he’s trying to regain that cool spy feeling he had when he was boring tortured, something he feels like he lost a bit, when he hasn’t at all. His moves get riskier for the sake of doing something that’ll look cool. The timer seems like a good example of this. He pushes it lower than they intended because secretly doing that will make things more interesting, giving him a chance to barely make it out and look badass. It, of course, doesn’t work out like that.

Curt’s incredibly jealous of Owen, of how quick of a thinker he is. To Curt, Owen always knows what to do. And I think sometimes Curt worries Owen thinks less of him because of the comments Curt gets from Cynthia that Owen never really comments on. Because that comment she gives to Curt about not knowing what he’s doing certainly wasn’t a one time thing. I wouldn’t be surprised that at first, hearing stuff like that made Curt actually work harder, got him to really focus when he needed to, and it stopped working after a while. That’s just my thought though.

On the surface, Curt seems incredibly over confident, making dangerous plays to prove himself, to Cynthia, to Owen, and probably himself as well.

I think when Owen and Curt first met, Curt already had a reputation for goofing off and getting into trouble. Owen heard this and then micromanaging their entire first mission, but really saw how good of a spy Curt was when he let him do what he needed to do, get into a rhythm and focus, do his own thing without comments about not being good enough. Because he really is a great spy, and Owen tells him this after this mission. Curt lets out a cocky “I know” but really, he’s so happy to hear that.

[uhhhitsme]

15 please and thank you 🙏🙏

the moment the door opens, owen's up on his feet, gun in hand. "are you kidding---why the hell are you wet?"

he'd been waiting at their rendezvous spot---some moth-infested cottage in the middle of the woods---for the better part of an hour. they have only a bit over two hours to get to the facility they need to infiltrate in time, a lot of land to cover on foot, and his partner for this job is nearly an hour late and dripping water over the floorboards as he slams the door shut.

"it's a long story," agent curt mega---the so called best and the brightest of the spies that a.s.s. could provide---gasps, dumps his sopping wet bag against the door, and continues. "is there a mirror here? i need to fix my hair."

owen is all at once immediately reminded of all the reservations he had doing this assignment. in the weeks leading up to this moment, he had tried to justify it away---clearly, the two of them made a good enough team their handlers decided to pair them up again, so he supposed he had to see the bright side of things considering there was nothing he could do about it. but christ. within seconds of meeting again, owen already wants to strangle this egotistical, callous, stupid---

he clears his throat. "we don't have time. and i believe you at least owe me an explanation for why you're an hour late."

mega, who had been running his fingers through his damp curls---odd, owen could've sworn his hair was straight the last time they met---looks up in surprise at that. "i am?"

owen grits his teeth, pinches the bridge of his nose, and tries to think of the diplomatic disaster it would be if he shot this man in the face right now. it's only barely helping. this is going to be the worst assignment owen's even been on. "yes. you are. we need to get a move on."

mega groans. "can't i get, like, a five second breather?"

"from what, exactly?"

"three assassins just tried to fucking kill me, that's what!"

owen blinks. once. twice. three times. stunned into silence for a very long moment. "...what?"

"you heard me," mega grumbles, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his back. "let's go, i'll tell you what happened on the way."

owen has many things to say about that---like how they should almost certainly inform their handlers about this, and that this complicates their mission in a manner that owen very much had not anticipated, and also maybe inquire whether or not mega is injured and needs fixing up---but before he can, mega flings the door open and stomps outside. there's nothing owen can do but snatch up his bag and follow.

"do you know the way? because i sure as hell don't."

owen sighs. "it was on the mission files."

mega raises his wet bag again in explanation. "can't exactly read a map when all the ink is fucked up."

"why did you get so wet in the first place? did they try to drown you?"

that makes mega laugh. "nah, they came after me with bullets, which was kind of stupid of them considering i was in the middle of the woods and had a shitton of tree cover, but, whatever. they were after me for a job i did a couple months ago in new york, not anything to do with this mission."

"are you sure?"

"oh, yeah. they had..." he winces. "very specific threats."

"that's good to know," owen says with a sigh of relief. he has no idea if they're going to make it to their destination in time without further outside interference, and he would rather not spend the entire walk on edge worrying about whether or not their plan had been discovered.

"yeah, well, thanks for your concern," mega mutters sarcastically. "i barely made it out with my life."

"and how did you do that, anyways? you still have failed to explain why you look like you've been standing in the rain for a couple hours."

mega lights up. his smile is wider than owen's ever seen it before---nothing like the smug smirk that owen remembers him having. it makes something inside of owen flip, and he isn't sure why. "well, obviously i went off the path for some cover, right?" he's clearly trying to sound indifferent about it, but his voice is just a little bit breathless with excitement. "and i couldn't see them---but they definitely could see me---instead of wasting my time trying to shoot them i kind of just started sprinting, and so i found this waterfall---"

"a waterfall?"

"yes, a waterfall, keep up, carvour---there was a waterfall, and it had like... a cavern behind it or some shit, i'm not sure, but i hid behind it---which is why i'm wet---and then when they broke through the trees i shot them through the water."

"how much ammo do you have left? do you need another gun? i have a spare."

"it's just three bullets," mega says, waving a hand dismissively. "i'll be fine."

it takes a moment for owen to process that statement, and when he does, he pauses. runs the story through his head again. turns to mega. "i'm sorry, are you saying you managed to outrun three men with guns---take each of them down with one bullet---from behind a waterfall? at long-distance?"

"yep," mega says, popping the p, and there's that infuriating dirty grin that owen remembers. "impressive, right?"

owen doesn't say anything. mega nudges his arm and somehow grins wider. "i can tell you're impressed, man, just admit it."

"...that might be so," owen says tightly. he hates that he can see why he was called one of their best agents---he must be incredible with that gun. and he's quick on his feet, and good in a crisis. although owen's hoping that there won't be any crisis on this assignment, he'll still be useful to have around. and there's something endearing about the way he smiles at him now, after his admission.

perhaps this job won't be as terrible as he thought.

[smytherines]

Do y'all ever think about the part in A1P1 where Owen and Curt are about to do the handclasp thing and get interrupted by Barb? Because it's super interesting to me. It's one the few times when the choreography seems to break out from being non-diegetic (meant to represent something, not literally meant to be what is happening) to diegetic (something that is occurring within the story)

I can't get a clean shot of it, but it's very interesting that they're about to do the clasp, Curt gets a call, Owen waves his hand kinda annoyed at the interruption, and then Curt talks to Barb while Owen fights a guy on the catwalk.

The implication is that they weren't literally clasping arms, but the way the characters react tells us that the interruption was real. So now when I watch the show it's like... maybe they hadn't seen each other for awhile, and finally had a moment alone to just reunite, maybe a hug or a kiss or just an opportunity to freely talk to each other, and that's what Barb's call interrupts. Its kinda brilliant that these little moments are both obscured and accentuated by the choreography.

I do not know a goddamn thing about choreography, but the more I watch this show the more in awe I am of Lauren Lopez as a choreographer, because there is so much storytelling packed into the choreography of A1P1 especially. The first time you see it your brain can easily slip into "this is a stylized James Bond intro sequence," but on the rewatch it's like "oh, OH! This is kinda... intimate, isn't it?"

And Corey Lubowich deserves so much credit for directing the show just in general (Corey I love you), but especially for one of my absolute favorite parts- the hug. In the BTS stuff there's a scene of Corey, Joey, and Curt working out the hug choreography, with Corey talking about how it should be one fluid motion between the embrace and the action stance, which is just *chefs kiss* because it really does kinda fool you into thinking it's a stylistic choice instead of a storytelling choice on the first watch. (Plus it just looks cool as hell)

[hatchetfield-omegaverse]

Do you have any further curtwen headcanons? NSFW or SFW

I have so many curtwen hcs it's not even funny.

Spies Are Forever Omegaverse Headcanons: Curtwen Pt.3!!

Curt first told Owen that he loved him in Venice. They were already in a physical relationship at this point, however neither of them had said anything for fear of ruining what they had.

However that all changed when Owen nearly sacrificed himself to save Curt. He had nearly died without knowing the true extent of Curt's feelings. Something he had to rectify.

So once they were safely in their hotel room, Curt laid everything on the table.

Owen in response bluescreened and wasn’t able to speak for the rest of the night.

Curt, for his part, thought that Owen didn't feel the same and was trying to find a way to let him down gently and didn't press the issue further.

It wasn't until they were back in London the next morning that he responded.

“I love you too, y’know? I realized I never said it last night, was too shocked to say anything. But I do.”

After that they use Venice and London as codes for I love you when they're not able to truly say the words aloud.

Curt has trouble keeping regular partners due to his unorthodox methods. It's why he's able to work as closely with Owen as he does. Their success rate together also helps.

They regularly get into debates over if they're called ‘fries’ or ‘chips’.

Owen is very staunch in his beliefs that they're chips. Curt, for his part, doesn't really care what they're called, but he loves teasing Owen so he corrects him every time.

Curt's father passed before his mother, Lorraine, knew that she was pregnant. He's named after his father.

Well actually, his name is really ‘Fuck Curtis Mega’.

Lorie had a difficult birth and, when they nursed asked what his name was, it just slipped out.

She had it changed when she realized of course. But, tucked away in a baby, is Curt't original birth certificate, the name reading Fuck Curtis Mega.

Owen loves to visit Lorraine with Curt. She's like the mother he never had growing up.

Lorrie figured out a long time ago that they're a couple, but she figured that it's a secret due to them working for different countries, so she hasn't said anything.

She also wants Curt to feel comfortable enough to tell her himself.

That doesn't stop her from planning their wedding in the meantime though.

Curt's least favorite food is oatmeal. It's a texture issue for him. However whenever he's in a particularly self hating mood, he punishes himself by forcing himself to eat it.

Owen will force him to eat something he actually likes if he sees.

Personal hc of mine: Owen doesn't know this, but his parents only ever wanted one child. However Alice gave birth to twin boys. Not wanting to raise two children, they took the youngest boy to Cuba and gave him up so that he wouldn't be able to find them again. The boy was eventually adopted and grew up to be Sergio Santos.

I hope you like these, Nonny, I have so many saf hcs. And if you'd like to send in a request, just hit me up. My inbox is always open.

[bow-of-aros]

Come Back For Me

Summary:

They're on the staircase, guns pointed at each other, but it goes a little differently this time around. (Or - I wanted them to yell at each other more. I'm an Owen Carvour apologist first and foremost)

This musical has taken over my entire life. One Step Ahead is the only song that exists to me right now. I wanted more of a confrontation that what we got BUT I also wanted Owen to not die so this is what resulted from that. Hope that y'all enjoy <33

There they were. After years of grief and rage and praying to God for the chance to go back and change that night, Owen Carvour and Curt Mega stood on a staircase, pistols loaded, pointed directly at each other.

It was familiar, in a way. If they shifted their aim a few scant inches to the side, they were back in Italy, Japan, Finland, Guatemala, working as a team. Watching each others backs.

Owen hasn’t had anyone watching his back for a long time.

Let’s just say that it didn’t work out very well for him in the past.

“Owen,” Curt started, and Owen had to will his hands to remain steady, for his aim to stay true. Four years and it was still the same goddamn voice.

The same voice he’d argued with on their first assigned mission together, the one he’d found so arrogant and grating coming from the brash American he’d been stuck with. The same voice Owen had started to grow fond of, as time went on and the arguing shifted to bickering, light-hearted jabs as they tore through everything in their paths. The same voice that had whispered sweet nothings in his ear on the rare quiet morning where they could play at a domestic life.

He’d trusted that voice.

He’d loved that voice.

Owen was falling again, slipping on that damn banana peel and staring up at his partner as he crashed to the ground. Curt had called his name, he could remember that much.

That voice was the last thing Owen Carvour ever heard before everything inside him that mattered died.

“Please. You don’t have to do this.” And suddenly he was back in the present, Curt on the steps below him, staring up pleadingly. As he spoke, Curt’s target moved from Owen’s head to his heart and, well, wasn’t that just fitting?

He wanted to cry. Owen wanted to fall to his knees and weep about how unfair it all was, to let the rot that had been festering inside him spill out and infect everything around him.

Instead, he opted for a sneer, “Oh, don’t I? Humour me, love, what would you have me do instead?”

The old pet name found its mark with brutal accuracy and Curt flinched as though he’d been struck. Normally, this is when he would explode, when he’d close his eyes and start swinging without any regard for the consequences.

That didn’t happen. Curt took a deep breath and looked right back at Owen, eyes alight with an old fire.

Owen found himself slightly unnerved.

“You could come back with me,” Curt inched forward, freezing as Owen refocused his gun at the movement, “We could take down Chimera together. We could make things right.”

One of the fine threads holding Owens composure snapped.

“Come with you? Why on Earth would I come with you?! You left me.” Owen’s shoulders heaved and his eyes were bright, but his voice continued to hold that cold, calm fury. “Do you have any idea what they did to me? How long I was down there thinking Curt will save me. Curt will come back for me?”

“They asked me about you, you know. The great Curt Mega,” He spat out Curt’s name like poison. “I didn’t tell them shit. I knew how proud of me you’d be for not breaking but you never showed up.”

Curt’s face had gone pale, all bravado leaking out of his voice as he stammered out, “Why— Why didn’t you, uh…”

“What? Why didn’t I sell you out?” A sharp, humourless laugh escaped him, “Maybe because we were fucking partners, Curt. Maybe because, no matter what, we were supposed to have each others’ backs. Maybe it was because I was foolish enough to believe that you were only moments away from breaking down that door right up until I managed to claw myself out of there.”

Despite all Owen’s efforts, his voice hitches and he can feel the tears he’d been willing away start to roll down his cheeks.

He can count the amount of times he’d cried in front of Curt on one hand. Mostly from when Curt had to stitch up something that Owen couldn’t reach, once from a few too many drinks and the crushing weight of the lives he hadn’t been able to save.

Never because of Curt.

Not until that night, at least.

Curt’s voice comes out fractured, “Owe, I—”

“Don’t call me that.”

The shaking anger in Owen’s voice must shock Curt into silence, because he freezes with his mouth half-formed around some empty platitude. As if mere words could fix the agony that consumes Owen’s every waking moment, the lingering ache where bones had broken and never set properly.

As if words could fill the gaping chasm in his chest where love used to keep him warm and chase away the cold that had settled into his bones.

“Only people who don’t leave me to die get to call me that. Only people who stand by me no matter what get to call me that.” Owen pauses, ensuring that what he says really sinks in, “You don’t get to call me that.”

The anymore echoes unsaid between them.

Once, hearing that name fall from Curt’s lips had filled Owen with what could only be described as starlight. Something bright and beautiful, but unlike the sun where it burned if you looked for too long. He’d always adored the stars, would’ve watched them every night if given the opportunity, tracing the constellations and sitting in awe of the stories that surrounded them.

That’s how Curt had made him feel, something to be in awe of, something that could be gazed at forever without every getting tired.

Now, that name burned. It prodded at tender bruises and reopened festering wounds, dangling everything Owen had lost in front of him and then snatching it away before he could even begin to reach for it.

“Owen,” Curt corrected himself, and Owen felt that sense of loss all over again, “I swear that I wanted to come back for you, but mission protocol dictates—”

“Mission protocol?” The words were drenched in disbelief, “You know what else mission protocol dictates?”

Owen started numbering things on his fingers, angry enough to take one hand off his pistol, “Mission protocol dictates that you don’t drink on the job. It dictates that you don’t leave anything with DNA evidence behind, like a banana peel. It dictates that we set the detonation time with enough space for us to make our escape. It dictates that we keep each other safe.”

“Now, tell me again about mission fucking protocol.”

Instead of answering, Curt takes advantage of Owen’s loose grip on the gun and shoots it out of his hand. He’d always been a better shot than Owen, even though he was loathe to admit it, but he couldn’t argue that it had helped them out of tight scrapes before.

The bullet didn’t even graze his hand, hitting exactly where it had intended and leaving Owen unarmed.

Leaving him vulnerable.

“I can’t let you do this,” Curt’s voice shook, but his hands remained steady, every angle lined with determination. “I loved you. I still love you, Owen. I love you so much that I spent every night drinking myself to sleep and hoping that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. The only time I was ever actually happy was for that brief moment after waking up and I didn’t remember that I had killed you.”

Owen opened his mouth to speak, but it snapped shut when Curt cut him a sharp look, “No. It’s my turn. I need to say this. I need you to hear this.”

And, well, what else could Owen do but nod? This is what he’d dreamt of every since he’d realized that Curt had left him behind, the knowledge that it had destroyed him as much as it had destroyed Owen.

“I was a coward. Is that what you want to hear? I was a fucking coward when I left you behind. I made a mistake and it cost me everything that mattered, and I couldn’t face it. You died, and I died with you.”

They were both crying now, years of emotions finally rising to the surface.

Curt wasn’t done. “But you’re here and you’re alive, and it’s everything I’ve been dreaming of for years. You lost everything, your beliefs were shattered, and I know it’s all my fault, but it’s not too late.”

The pistol lowered, not pointed away, but no longer aimed at his heart.

“Come with me, Owen. Please.”

And he wanted to. Despite everything, Owen ached to return to Curt, to let him fight for Owen’s trust, to fall into his arms and try to believe him when he said that everything was going to be alright.

“I can’t.”

The mask that Owen had so carefully cultivated had surely crumbled to dust by now, leaving the desperation and heartbreak he was feeling on prominent display for anyone to see.

“I’m too far gone, Curt.” He had to make Curt understand, he had to, “I’m broken. They took me apart and put me back together wrong. I have nothing to go back to, I’m a traitor to my country and dead to everyone else. You left me.”

He felt like a broken record, but when something turns your life to ash and is the foundation upon which you rebuild everything you are, it’s hard to let go of it.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you. You were everything, and then you took everything.” Owen flung his arms out to the darkness around him, “This is all I have left! I have to do this.”

Curt’s face shuttered, and Owen knows what comes next. It’s what this whole thing was leading up to, no matter how much he pretended that he could change the story.

“You know that I can’t let you do this, Owen.” Curt tightened his grip around the pistol, and something like relief washed through Owen.

Finally.

“Shoot me then,” What was meant as a taunt came out more like a plea, “Finish the job you started four years ago and just fucking kill me.”

As Curt raised the gun up higher, Owen couldn’t help but laugh.

“I always did say that you were going to be the death of me, love. Can’t say I imagined it turning out quite like this.”

And of all things, that is what made Curt falter. Maybe it was the reminder of Owen’s last words before he fell, maybe it was what Curt had said after.

I’d never let you down.

The click of the safety being engaged sounded throughout the room, and Owen watched in an odd combination of wonder and despair as it was placed back in its holster.

“What are you—”

“I won’t do it again.” Curt wouldn’t even allow Owen the decency of confusion, the fire in his voice burning through everything he thought he knew, “I will not kill you again, Owe.”

There it was. That damn name.

Owen didn’t say anything.

“I know you. I know that you are good. I know that, buried under all the hurt and the betrayal, you still want to make the world a better, safer place. And I know that you just need to remember that.” Curt stepped out of his way, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaving Owen a clear path to leave, “I know that you’ll make the right decision. You always do.”

Cautiously, bracing for an attack that never came, Owen walks past Curt, making it down the stairs and walking towards the door.

“Oh, and Owen?” Curt calls after him.

He stalls, not turning around, he’s not willing to cede that yet, but also cocking his head to the side ever so slightly to show that he was listening.

“I’ll come back for you this time. I’m never going to stop coming back for you until we’re back on the same side again, I promise.”

There were a million things Owen could say to that, from scorn to despair to turning around right then and laying all his broken pieces at Curt’s feet.

In the end, he didn’t say anything and pushed through the door, leaving Curt to his decision.

But, as Owen heard footsteps echo behind him, he finally let himself hope.