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the-scouts-codex · 1 year ago

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Summary: “A Housewarden meeting?” Renmu repeats. “Yes, a Housewarden meeting. Normally Housewardens are elected by previous Housewardens and or by challenging one for the position.” The Headmage explained, “Since Ramshackle is still considered a dorm, and You and Grim have taken residence in it, this makes you Housewarden of Ramshackle. Therefore, you now attend Housewarden meetings.”

Scout's Notes: This fic is 11,333 words. Yes, that is a lot of words lol. So I will be posting my work in parts. This is part two.

Part one is found here.

This fic is also found on A03 here. Thescoutscodex

Renmu quickly rushed to the Hall of Mirrors. He didn’t want to be late for the party. He would rather be early than late. It was his party after all. Renmu looked for the Mirror that resembled the sea. It was the third Mirror in the room. Renmu took a breath before hopping through it. He was still afraid of going through the Mirrors. It made him uncomfortable. Once the magic effects wore off, Renmu was met with the one most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The dorm was halfway submerged underwater. The building was made from rock and coral. Shells, clams, and coral decorated the outside parts of the dorm. A giant stone tentacle was wrapped around one of the towers of the building. The dorm's insignia was hung at the tip of the tentacle. “It’s beautiful isn’t it.” Renmu turned around surprised. It was Cater. He was snapping a few pictures of the dorm and the surrounding ocean. “It is.” Renmu mumbled. Cater smiled at Renmu. “Let’s go inside. Riddle will have everyone's heads if we aren’t there in a timely fashion.” Cater led the way for Renmu. They walked up the stone stepped pathway up to the entrance of the dorm. “You smell yummy, what do you have on, hon?” Cater asked, sniffing Renmu. Renmu flushed red. “It’s cologne. It’s “The Alluring Rose” by the Poison Apple company or something like that.” “Eh!?” Cater yelled. “That stuff is mega expensive and hard to get! They say that each person smells it differently on the holder's skin.” “Oh, so what did you smell?” Renmu asked.

Cater hums in thought. He grabs Renmu and sniffs his throat. Renmu tenses instantly and crumples on himself. “Roses, sage and Sandalwood.” Cater says with a smirk. “Where did you even get a bottle of that?” “It was a gift from Sam.” “Aww that’s sweet of him. You’re totes lucky.” Cater held the door open for Renmu. The interior hallway was breathtaking. Renmu pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos along with Cater. He had to paint this one day. The Hallway was underwater. The undersea life was visible through the glass dome around them. The waved patterned floor molding fit the atmosphere along with the shell patterned trim that adorned the edges of the floor. The floors were a smooth and shiny purple marble, with light blue swirls going through it. Even though it was dark, the blues and purples of the sea were captivating. “This place reminds me of an Aquarium.” Renmu said in awe. “It sure does.” Cater replied. Cater walked closer to Renmu and sniffed him again. Renmu chuckled and nudged Cater. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t smell so yummy.” Cater said, pouting.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. The lounge was outside apparently. They had to walk through the main dorm to get to the ramp that led to the Mostro Lounge. The ramp was a winding path that descended into a building. The exterior looked like an eel maybe? The entrance was in its mouth. Renmu looked side to side as he walked down. Cater realized his anxiousness and put his arm around his waist. “Don’t worry, hon. I won’t let you fall.”

Renmu blushed at the pet name. He would never get used to Cater’s boldness. It was normal for Cater to give people cute pet names, but that didn’t mean they caught Renmu off guard. They arrived at the mouth of the lounge. Cater, like the gentleman he was, walked ahead and opened the door for Renmu. Renmu gave him a curt curtsy before going inside, making them both laugh. Once they got inside, Renmu gasped in awe. The lounge was beautiful. The most beautiful part was the giant window that showed off the undersea life. It was enormous. There were light blue jellyfish lights hanging from the ceiling, illuminating the water on the other side and the dark room within. There was a ramp, lit up by blue floor lights, that led to a secluded section of the Lounge next to a bar. Jellyfish lights and pink magestone torches illuminated the section. There were two tall blue haired guys sitting in one other mahogany leather booth. Riddle was stuck between them pouting. You could barely see him since he was so small compared to him. “Uh oh, looks like they got our poor Riddle again.” Cater said “Hey Riddle!” Cater yelled, waving.

Riddle’s head shot up. He quickly scooted from in between them and rushed to Cater. “You looked like you were stuck in a slimy situation.” Cater said, smiling. “I was. Floyd doesn’t know when to quit.” Riddle said, annoyed.

Riddle was in his dorm uniform. He really looked like a queen in that outfit. He had an opposing red and black cape that hung off his left shoulder, a small gold crown on his redhead. Many pins and buttons on his left breast. Lapples formed a black and red heart at the center, and a sash around his waist with a huge pin with an “H” in the center. The red, white and black jacket he wore flared out at his hips, forming a skirt and train that ended behind his knees. Tall red, black ,and gold knee high high heels that made him just as tall as Renmu now. Even in the dark lighting, you couldn't miss the red eyeliner around his gray eyes. Truly a sight to behold. “Renmu, I’m glad you made it here in a timely fashion.” Riddle said, putting his gloved hand on his hip. “Queen of Hearts Law 06: One must not be late to an important gathering.’’ Renmu recited. Riddle smiled brightly. “If only my students were as diligent as you.” Renmu smiled meekly from behind his hood. “Boo, Riddle likes Renmu more.” Cater said, pouting. Riddle shook his head. “I would like it if you worked more diligently, Cater.” Cater whined. Riddle began to sniff around Cater curiously. “Did you eat Strawberries?” He asked. Cater shook his head. “It might be Renmu. He’s wearing enchanted Cologne.” Cater said with a smirk.

Riddle sniffed Renmu. Renmu froze up at how close Riddle was now. “Smells like Roses.” Then he sniffed him again. “Strawberry tarts,” Then again ”Vanilla cake.”

Cater laughed at Riddle's eagerness to sniff Renmu. “Why on earth are you wearing Enchanted cologne?” Riddle asked flustered. “I didn't know it was enchanted.” Renmu explained. “It was a gift and the bottle looked pretty…” “It's “The Alluring Rose” by the Poison Apple company.” Cater commented. Riddle gasped. “That stuff is super expensive, let alone a Cologne you would wear on a date. It’s supposed to make the people around you smell their favorite scent on you.”

Renmu groaned. Sam did this on purpose didn’t he. He can image Sam laughing to himself at the prospect of Renmu being chased by Houswardnes and everyone around him. “Goldfish, why did you leave?” A voice drew out.

For the second time tonight, Renmu was met with the two most tallest guys he has ever seen. They were giants. There were also twins, which Renmu thought was cool. They wore black suits with an ashen gray scarf around their necks, Purple button downs through one of the twins' clothing was unbuttoned and his white tie wasn't done unlike the others that was. Both had white gloves on and black and white oxfords. Black fedora with a gray band on top of their light blue hair. The taller twin's pants were cropped, exposing his purple socks. To be honest, their dorm uniform looked more “Normal” than Heartslabyul’s. “Floyd Leach, for the last time, I’m not a goldfish!” Riddle yelled. “Eh, but when you get mad, your face turns red like a goldfish and you’re tiny too.” Floyd said lazily.

Riddle looked even madder. His face contorted into rage. Floyd laughed then looked at Renmu. His gold and brown eyes stared at him curiously as he bent down and sniffed him. “Who’s this shrimp that smells like sea salt?” He asked, poking Renmu’s chest. “That’s the new Housewarden, Renmu Yuu.” Cater said, cheekily. Floyd hummed. “Shrimpy smells like the sea. Oi, Jade, smell him.” His twin brother Jade, walked over to Renmu and sniffed him. Renmu was trying so hard not to freak out. “Indeed Floyd he does.” He said with a sharp tooth smile. “Were these two not human!?” Renmu thought. “Well, I am a stickler for formal introductions. I’m Jade Leach, the Vice Housewarden of Octavinelle.” “I’m his twin brother, Floyd Leach. Hey, can I squeeze you until you pop?” Floyd asks innocently. “U-Until I pop?” Renmu asked, worriedly. “Floyd, you may not squeeze a potential client-I mean, potential friend of ours.”

Another student made himself known behind Renmu. He was wearing a similar outfit to the twins. His black fedora had a purple conch shell at the band. He too wore a black suit with the scarf around his neck but he had an ashen gray coat that draped over his shoulders. He also wore a white button down instead of the purple one. Instead of black and white oxfords, he wore solid black ones. He held a silver octopus cane in his left gloved hand. A white gem was in the center, wrapped around one of its tentacles. “You must be Renmu, the new prefect, yes?” He asked, pushing up his glasses. The tone of his voice had a cunning air to it. “Yes, I am.” Renmu mumbled. “Azul Ashengrotto, the Housewarden of Octavinelle, owner of Mostro Lounge.” He said with confidence as he held out his hand, which Renmu shook. “Azul, sniff him.” Floyd demanded. “He rather smells like home.” Jade chimed in. Renmu tensed up. “That-That won’t be ness-” Renmu was cut off by Azul sniffing him. “He does. I assume you are wearing an Enchanted Cologne?” He asked. Renmu nodded. “Now, let us sit and chat as we wait for the others.” Azul said, walking up to the booth.

Floyd took it upon himself to smuggle Renmu onto their side of the booth, putting him in between him and his twin. Azul sat on the opposite side of Floyd in the middle. Riddle and Cater were across from them. Soon after, Trey emerged from the kitchen and joined them. “Sorry, I had to make sure the glaze was correct.” “You're fine.” Riddle replied.

Azul clapped his hands loudly, getting everyone's attention. A waiter scurried out with a tray of fancy looking drinks in fancy glasses. Riddle was passed a small tumbler with a pink and purple liquid inside. There were fresh strawberries on top with a sprig of mint. Cater was passed a Hurricane glass with a fizzy orange drink inside. It was sparkling as well. Trey was passed a margarita glass with a violet colored drink inside. Candied violets decorated the top. The twins had the same blue drink in a sling glass. Sea salt crusted the edges of the glasses. Azul was given a tumbler filled with a purple drink. It sparkled and sizzled. Lastly Renmu was given a beaker glass filled with a dark red drink. It smelled like pomegranates, plums, and strawberries. A black berry decorated the top. “Ooh, let me take a pic of everyone's drinks!” Cater Announced. “Must you always take a picture of everything, Cater?” Riddle asked. “Oh come on, it’ll be really quick.” Cater begged. Riddle sighed. “If you must.” “I don’t mind.” Trey said. Cater looked over at the others. “Be my guest. Be sure to tag the Lounge though you post it. I’ll send you the names of the drinks later.” Azul offered. “Sweet!” Cater snapped a few picks then stuffed his phone in his pocket. Cater and Trey were the first to take a sip of their drinks. “So zesty and spicy.” Cater said in awe. “It tastes earthy and sweet.” Trey said with a smile. Riddle then sipped his and smiled. “So sweet.”

Azul looked at Renmu. He guessed that he wanted him to taste his. Renmu took a sip of the drink. It was sweet and sour. The plums gave it a deeper taste. It was cold but as it went down this throat, it became warm. Renmu guessed this is what a magic drink tastes like. “Tates sweet and sour. So many hidden flavors.” Renmu mumbled. Azul smiled. “Glad you like it. Well, it’s only 7:30. I highly doubt the others will arrive in a timely fashion, especially those of Pomefiore, Savanaclaw, and Ignihyde.” “Yes, you know how Pomefiore is with their appearances. Jade amused. “We get the shrimpy to ourselves.” Floyd drawled. “Indeed we do. It’s no secret that you are not from here. Care to share where you come from?” Azul asked. “Oh, I come from a country called Japan.” Renmu replied. “Huh, where is that? Sounds strange.” Floyd hummed. “Well, it doesn't exist in this world.” Renmu explained. “It’s-”

The large doors burst open. A tall sun kissed beast man strolls in followed by a smaller beastman. The tall one was part lion. Renmu noticed from the way his tail looked. The smaller one was part Hyena. The lion's uniform consisted of a black leather sleeveless jacket, a sleeveless brown dashiki, allowing those toned arms to be on full display. A small forearm tattoo was exposed. Colored beads and a gold necklace hung around his thick neck, also the same was around his wrists. A large fluffy wool and cloth sash hung low around his hip. Their dorm Insignia could be seen clearly. Deep brown slacks paired with brown and gold oxfords.

The other beastman had a similar outfit. He had a black leather sleeveless jacket and the same brown dashiki but he had short sleeves. He wore one biker glove on his right hand. Instead of beads and gold around his neck, he had an orange scarf with the insignia on the front. He wore dusty acid washed jeans tucked into short brown boots. “Sorry I'm late, I didn’t wanna come.” He said sarcastically. Renmu snorted and covered his mouth. Riddle and Trey eyed him suspiciously. That would have been something he would say, if he was ever invited to an outing that is. “Leona Kingscholar, you are 6 minutes late.” Riddle announced. “Who cares. It’s only 6 minutes. Don’t get your Queen of Heart’s panties in a bunch.” He growled. Riddle's face went red in a matter of seconds. “How unclouth!” Leona waved him off as he walked up to the booth. “Move down everyone!” Cater shouted excitedly.

Everyone grabbed their drinks and scooted down the booth. Renmu scrambled up and scooted with them. Leona sat down then the other one. They now sat across from Renmu. Two drinks were brought out to them. Leona had a chalice filled with a sandy colored drink, candied meat decorated the rim. The other had a cosmopolitan glass with a sweet pink drink inside. Sprinkles decorated the rim. “So why are we here again?” Leona asked, taking a sip of his drink. “Renmu is the new Prefect of Ramshackle. We are here to get to know him and make him feel welcomed.” Azul explained coyly. “Renmu, this Leona Kingscholar, the Housewarden of Savanaclaw, the second prince of Sunset Savannah. The other is Ruggie Bucchi, his lap dog.”

Renmu was starting to wonder how many other princes there were here. “Oi, I didn’t need some royal decree.” Leona snapped. “And I ain’t his lap dog!” Ruggie yelled back.

Leona sniffed around and looked over to Renmu. Renmu internally sighed. He leaned over the table and sniffed Renmu a few times. Leona looked at Renmu judgingly. “You smell like grass.” Renmu wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. “Eh, He smells like donuts to me.” Ruggie said, confused. “Of course he would smell like donuts to you, Ruggie.” “I’m surprised that you didn’t say meat or grilled cheese.” Ruggie shot back. Leona growled at Ruggie and he snickered. “Must you always be so rude?” Riddle asked, annoyed. “Stop leaning over the table!” “Oh, be quiet. You're starting to sound like the pompous Prima dona of Pomefiore.” Leona snarled as he sat back down. “I’m a pompous what now!?”

Everyone looked over at the stairs. A tall beautiful man was standing at the of the stairs, head held high. Probably the most beautiful man he has ever seen. His hair was tied up in a tight bun, a gold crown sat upon his blonde locks. His outfit resembled a kimono. The royal purple with gold floral embroiderment along the split sleeves and collar. The black Obi accentuated his waist. He had something that resembled a red obijime that hung freely around the obi. Large tassels hung at the ends of it. Unlike kimonos, it split open, revealing a red inside the had poison apples embroidered on it. They were revealed when the light hit them just right. He wore black slacks underneath with black and gold laced high heeled boots. He truly was a sight to behold. Renmu wondered if he was a prince too. “I, Vil Schoenheit, prefer to be called the Queen of Pomefiore.”

Leona rolled his eyes. Renmu barely noticed a man behind him, holding the train of his outfit from dragging on the ground. His outfit was pretty much the same. His was a lot shorter and closed off. Instead of heeled laced boots, he had a regular heel. Instead of a gold crown on his blonde bob cut, he had a royal purple cavalier hat with a big black feather. He, too, was beautiful. The universe was really trying to make him suffer. He just wanted all those that wore heels to step on him gracefully. “Roi du Poison, you truly are a Queen.” He said excitedly. The Queen smiled confidently at his words/ “Oh no, there is no way he’s sitting next to me. We need to swap spots now.” Leona all but growled. Floyd sighed annoyed. “I don’t wanna.” “Clean cup, move down!” Cater laughed out. Trey laughed and stood up. Everyone else then stood and shuffled out of the booth. “Must you really be this childish?” Riddle asked. Leona scoffed. “Do you wanna sit next to Floyd?”

Riddle huffed and pouted. Leona and Ruggie got in first this time. Followed by Trey, Riddle and Cater. The other side was now Renmu, the blonde huntsman, his Queen, Azul, Jade and Floyd. Now that everyone was seated, a martini glass filled with purple and red sparkling drink was given to the Queen, then a wine glass filled with the same drink was given to the huntsman. Both were topped with an apple slice and edible flowers. “So you must be the new prefect, non?” Renmu looked up at the tall blonde next to him and nodded. “Such beauty you hold, Roi du mystery!” He said exaggeratedly. “You smell like amber and musk.”

Renmu flushed brightly. There was nothing beautiful about an eyebrowless freak. “I am the Vice Housewarden of Pomefiore, Rook Hunt.” “He’s wearing “The Alluring Rose” by the Poison Apple company.” Azul said with a smirk. “Marvelous!” Rook cried out. “What!?” Vil yelled, rising to his feet. “Rook, move over.” The man practically jumped into Rook's lap in an attempt to sit next to Renmu. Rook lifted him with ease by his waist and sat him down next to Renmu. The Queen grabbed Renmu’s face and sniffed him aggressively. “How did you acquire such a bottle? You smell like the freshest apples in all the land, the fairest of all the Lilies of the Valley.” He said, his purple lips pursed into a scowl. “I-It was a gift. I didn’t know it was such a big deal.” Renmu stammered. “Vil, you're making him uncomfortable.” Trey cut in. Vil backed off reluctantly. “You must show me the bottle sometime.” “Who’s still missing from our party?” Jade asked. “Scarabia and Ignihyde.” Cater informed him. “We are here, sorry we are late.”

Renmu almost fell out at how hot this guy sounded. The Universe was really trying to sabotage him. Their sun kissed skin was so rich and deep. The black red and gold reminded Renmu of an imperial dragon. The red flames adorned their black baggy pants, along with the gold jewelry that glittered and shook on their wrists, arms, hair and necks. One of them had white hair with a red headdress tied around his head. Hold shimmered from the red cloth. White tattoos spread across his arms and shoulders. He wore a long sleeveless jacket that flowed behind him. The other had long dark hair and a sleeveless hooded jacket that showed off his toned arms. His hair had some braided strands that had gold laced into it. Renmu’s heart was crying for mercy. “Kalim forgot when the party started.” The long haired one replied. “It’s 7:42, not too shabby if you ask me.” Trey commented. “Move down!” Cater announced. Everyone shuffled down the both again. Kalim was now next to Cater and then the hottie with long hair. “Is Kalim allowed to have a beverage, Jamil?” Azul asked. “Yes. I trust you won’t pull any tricks?” Jamil asked skeptically.

Azul clapped his hands again. Two drinks were swiftly brought out for Kalim and Jamil. Kalim got a pearl colored drink in a Pousse Cafe glass, Jamil had a darker drink in a Grappa glass. Their drinks smelled like cinnamon and spices. “Hmm, I smell Jamil's cooking.” Kalim said sniffing. “No wait, coconut milk!” “Funny, I smell cinnamon and bergamot.” Jamil said, sipping Kalims drink before passing it back. “That would be Roi du Mystery over here.” Rook said smiling. “At first I didn’t know why all of you were sniffing him, but now I smell Candied Violets and buttercream.” Trey added. “He’s wearing enchanted perfume.” Vil siad, swirling his drink. Jamil and Kalim looked over at Renmu. “Ah, you are the new prefect, correct? I’m Jamil Viper, Vice Housewarden of Scarabia.” “I’m Kalim Al-Asim, Housewarden of Scarabia” “Did someone invite Diasonia?” Riddle asked reluctantly. The room went silent. Riddle sighed. “I take that as a no.” “That horned freak doesn't use his phone. It’s his fault.” Leona growled. “I invited him.” Renmu replied. They all looked at Renmu in shock. “How and when!?” Cater asked. “Earlier. I went to his dorm and told him.” “You were able to just walk up and talk to him? He kinda has this intimidating air to him…” Kalim trailed off. Renmu cocked his head in confusion. “He wasn’t scary to me…” “He ain’t scary. He's an annoying horned bastard.” Leona spat. “Dear me, why do you wound me so, Kingscholar.” Leona growled and sat down. “Speak of the devil.”

Malleus and Lilia were now present. They were both handed a Goblet by the waiter filled Malleus’ with a miasma green drink. There was even green fog coming off of it. Lilia’s was red. “Are we moving down or shuffling?” Cater asked, amused. “Oh let me sit next to little Renmu.” Lilia said happily. “I guess we are shuffling.” Trey said standing. “New spot. Move down!” Cater sang.

After their brief shuffling intermission, Leona and Ruggie still went in first. Then Riddle, Trey and Cater, followed by Azul, Jade and Floyd. On the other side Jamil and Kalim scooted in first then Renmu, Lilia, Malleus, Vil, and Rook. “All we are missing is Idia Shroud.” Azul said. “Late as always.” Riddle mumbled. “I'm here.” A deep voice mumbled.

The last Housewarden had finally arrived. He was tall like a lot of the people here. Long flaming blue hair trailed behind him. He wore a black cyberpunk looking bomber jacket. Some parts were cyan. Baggy black reflective pants with a blue belt on his thigh. His boots were bulky black and blue. They looked like space boots. He grabbed a zombie glass filled with a fiery blue drink. He reluctantly sat next to Rook. His blue lips were frowned into a sad scowl. “Finally, we are all here!” Floyd whined. “I’m getting bored.” “Yes, now that everyone is here, let’s start the gathering.” Azul announced, clapping.

Thank you for reading part 2.

Part 3 can be found here.

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awigglycultist · 2 years ago

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The Brick Satellite pt 3 thoughts

Woahh okay what a start the harmonies holy shit

OH FUCKING VIBES OMG

Oh yeah that's right Anna doesn't know about the radiance yeah that's a whole story for later Anna

THEY'RE IN ORBIT!!!

Curt Mega ily ily

Everyone's voices in this song sound especially like smooth and nice

Oh shit Anna was on her father's ship

Holy shit she was 9

In their last moments Samuel and Rose want to write about wants happening :')

"funny I can almost see his big fat massive head from here" hdjddn

And in their last moments they're looking at their constellation :')

OH FUCK ROSE IS BRINGING UP TAKING HIS HAND GUSY GUYS OMG GUYS

HERSCHEL AND ANNA AREN'T IN LOVE GUYS GUYS GUYS

Samuel keeping Margaret company while she's passed out :)

James Tolbert ily ily

"I am grateful for the better man you made out of me" hngg

Idk how to explain my thoughts on this song but GODDAMN do I love Great Things

Water?? Oh shit!

Wtf is going on indeed

.... HELLO???

Her memories?? Her magic??

WAIT OMG KIM!!!

Sir. You've seen women GLOW several times now. Do you REALLY think there's gonna be a scientific reason to this new someone and the jungle growing in the satellite??

She forgives Samuel!!!

Gotta have that printing press plate and notebook

Wait no no Anna no does this mean we won't see her in the future eps?

Okay no The Traveler will help her come back if she wants to so maybe we will see her again in the future (hopefully)

"Rose is a lucky woman" "I don't know what you're talking about" NSKDBDLS he said that so quickly too

HARMONIES

Did they travel forward in time?

Omg they definitely travelled forward in time

Also the fact there was a town named after Anna and there was a monument built for them and the Sagitta

Also "the first brick satellite" so there were more made then!?

To be continued!!

#pulp musicals #the brick satellite

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sonnetthebard · 3 years ago

Note

for one shots maybe a Princess Bride AU of Spies Are Forever? "Life is pain, Mega. Anyone who says differently is saying something" (maybe a Westley!Owen? there was an ask about it and it is now stuck in my head)

Oh yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. You have no clue how happy I am. I had a whole Westley phase, now I'm having a whole Owen phase. Perfection.

Genre: Angst/ Fluff/ Romance

Words: 2055

TL;DR: Curt's encounter with Dread Pirate Roberts does *not* end in the way he expected it to.

TW: Mentions of death and grieving, violent thoughts

Yes Curt is Buttercup, no I will not be taking questions. Also a lot of this dialogue was borrowed from the movie.

___________________________________________________________

How Curt had let himself get here was beyond him. He was exhausted. Truly. He'd had quite the past few days. Why anyone had decided to kidnap one of the kingdom's most valliant knights was beyond him. Why him? Of what importance was he? But even worse (and really more embarrassingly), he hadn't actually been able to overcome his captors. To be fair, as tiny as the man who had kidnapped him was... his two henchmen were more than capable of keeping him right where they needed him. One was very large, and another (a girl no less) was very good with a sword. Better than he was. God, he wished he was home. He wished he hadn't been alone that night, vulnerable to any kidnappers. And that's when all the thoughts he had been trying to push away made their way into his head.

Owen. That's what would have made this all better. Owen. Owen could fix just about anything.

But Owen was gone. Owen had sailed away on a ship, and... that ship was overthrown by the Dread Pirate Roberts and his crew. He was dead. Never to return. In a way, it almost paralleled how Curt was never to return to his days on the farm. Especially not now that the Prince had taken a fancy to him. He didn't exactly fancy the Prince. But hey... it wasn't like Owen was going to come back. At least the Prince was someone to take care of him. Not that he was taking very good care of him in the moment.

No. Curt had gotten a bit distracted in the recounting of his situation. He was not, in fact, captive at all anymore- well... depends on your definition of captive. He suposed he technically still was. Just not by little Von Nazi of Germania and his henchmen. Now, he was being dragged by the arm by a man in all black. His feet were sore, and he could barely keep up the man was walking so fast. He's stumbling, and honestly he could fall any second now. He wouldn't be surprised at all if he simply collapsed. He was hungry. He was barely getting the chance to breathe. His head hurt. Curt was done. Just at the moment Curt feels like he could crash, the grip on his arm is released, and the gravelly voice of his captor pulls him from his thoughts.

"Catch your breath." The man almost seemed to spit it out, as if ever word was bitter to him.

"Please..." Curt panted. "If you stop this... if you let me go... the Prince will pay my ransom. I'm sure of it."

"You're sure, are you?" The man laughed spitefully.

"Yes!" Curt nodded, desperate. In his exhaustion, he almost thought the man might be talking genuinely.

"You're certain?" The man continued on his spiteful tangent. Curt nodded. "Who are you to be certain of anything, good sir?"

"Pardon?" Curt blinked, confused.

"I said who are you to be certain? Are you a god? Or a scholar? Are you, in fact, the prince in disguise?" The man asked coarsely. Curt shook his head, still a bit dazed. "I thought not. I would advise you, good sir, not to make promises you cannot keep."

"I was just giving you the chance to release me willingly." Curt told him bitterly. "You think you're going to be able to escape the Prince? Oh no. He and his men could track a falcon on a cloudy day. He'll find you. And when he does, 'good sir', you are a dead man."

"You think your dearest love will save you?" The man in black seemed to taunt.

"He is not my 'dearest love'!" Curt protested, still trying to catch his breathe. "He's not even my 'love'! He's just my Prince. But yes, he will save me. And, I will add- before you say another word- that he would do the same for any of his knights. We are his family."

"You admit to me that you do not love your liege, then?" The man smirked menacingly.

"He knows that I don't love him." Curt nodded defensively.

"You mean that he knows you are incapable of love." The man in black sighed. Why did everything that came out of this man's mouth sound so bitter?

"I am more than capable of love!" Curt protested. "I have loved more deeply than a wretch like yourself could ever dream!"

"Wretch... that's a good one." The man laughed softly, still bitterly. He grabbed Curt's wrist with an iron grip, and Curt hissed in pain. "Let that be a warning to you, fair sir. I have no tolerance for liars."

And so they were walking again. And walking, and walking, and walking. Far away. Until Curt's feet were so sore that he couldn't feel anything but the pain. The pain consumed his thoughts. Pain, and how odd this man was. He had figured out precisely who this was. With that wit, and that cruelty... It had to be the Dread Pirate Roberts. The man who had killed Owen. A man who Curt had wished dead for years. A man who Curt was going to kill the first chance he got. All of a sudden, that was the thought that consumed Curt's mind. With every step he took it got stronger. And the stronger it got... the happier it made him. God, he knew that was sick, but... revenge would be so sweet. Suddenly, Curt felt himself dropped.

"Rest, sir knight." The man sighed. Curt fell to the ground, propping himself up, unable to move.

"I know who you are." Curt blurted out, filled to the brim with anger. That seemed to amuse the man. "Your cruelty... it gives you away."

"Oh? And who am I?" The man smirked.

"You are the Dread Pirate Roberts." Curt stated plainly. "Admit it."

"Proudly." The man bowed grandiosely. "What can I do for you, sir knight?"

"Die." Curt spat. Dread Pirate Roberts' brows raised in amusement.

"A bit harsh, don't you think?" Dread Pirate Roberts mused playfully.

"Not nearly harsh enough." Curt glared at him. "If it were up to me, you would be torn limb from limb."

"Hardly complimentary, sir knight." Dread Pirate Roberts chuckled. "Why loose your venom on me?"

Curt took a moment, sighing. He didn't want to talk to this man, but he supposed he had been the one to initiate the conversation. And to admit his same-sex attraction to his captor... he could die. Though he had already seemed to guess it, implying that he loved his Prince. Perhaps things were different for pirates. He took a shaky breath.

"You killed my love." Curt croaked quietly. Curt wasn't sure whether the pirate looked more or less amused, but the look on his face had certainly shifted- as had the mood. There was silence for a moment before Roberts responded.

"Perhaps." He admitted. "I kill a lot of people. Who was your love? Another Prince? Pompous, poised, and cold?"

"No... he was a farm boy. Poor." Curt admitted. "Poor, and perfect. With eyes like melted chocolate, and hair to match. Your ship attacked his, and... everyone knows that you take no prisoners."

"Well, I can't, can I?" Roberts reasoned. "People will think I've gone soft! And then any respect they may have had for me goes right out the window."

"You mock my pain!" Curt fumed, sadly and frustratedly.

"Life is pain, sir knight. Anyone who says differently is selling something." Roberts stated. "I remember your lover. Was it not four years ago that he perished?"

"It was." Curt sighed.

"He died with his dignity intact, if that's any consolation to you." Roberts sat next to Curt. "No blubbering, no tears. Only a simple plea: 'Please, I need to live'. I asked him why. And do you know what his answer was?"

"True love." Curt sniffed, looking to the ground.

"True love indeed... I can only assume he meant you, sir knight." Roberts sighed. "He talked of a man of boundless beauty, undying heart and unsurpassable faithfulness. Consider yourself lucky I killed him before he could see you for what you truly are."

"What I am?" Curt blinked in shock.

"Well, good sir... he talked of your unsurpassable faithfulness, if you will remember." Roberts almost seemed to scowl. "Did you run stright to your prince when you heard of his death? Or did you wait a few hours out of respect?"

In that moment, Curt snapped. He was unsure of when he had even registered his surroundings or if he had even fully taken it in. He was on the edge of a hill. He barely remembered thinking about a single thing other than the fact that this man had insulted both him and Owen in one single bound. He stood up, pulling the pirate ith him. Where he found the strength he did not know. Perhaps it was Owen, from beyond the grave. Or maybe it was simply the fortitude of his heart. But there was a fire in his eyes as he looked directly into those of the Dread Pirate Roberts, who stared back in total and utter shock.

"You don't get to insult me or my lover, for on that day I died with him!" Curt growled. "You can die too, for all I care!"

And with that, he let go of Roberts, shoving him over the edge of the ravine. He watched as Roberts tumbled down, a pit growing in his stomach. Why did he feel so terrible? He had just saved his own life and killed Owen's killer. He should feel relieved. The wind seemed to ring in his ears, his hearing acute. So naturally, he heard it more than clearly when Roberts said the words that made his heart stop.

"Curt Mega... you're going to be the death of me!" Roberts called up.

Curt's blood seemed to stop flowing, and he lost any colour he had.

"Owen? Oh, god!" Curt breathed, not thinking twice before throwing himself over the edge of the ravine. Before long, he too was tumbling to what could be his death.

About ten minutes later, Curt regained his consciousness, groaning. It seemed he wasn't too far behind Owen- who was grimacing, starting to stir. Owen crawled slowly, painfully, towards Curt. Curt did his part, trying to prop himself up on his side. Owen got closer to Curt, doing the same and running a hand through his lover’s hair. Curt reached an arm out, wincing, pulling Owen's mask off and taking a look at his lover's face for the first time in four years. It may have been the exhaustion, but Curt started to cry tears of joy.

"Darling... hey, love..." Owen cooed gently, soothing him. "It's okay. It's okay, love."

"You're here..." Curt sniffed, a bit embarassed.

"Can you move at all?" Owen asked.

"Move? You're alive!" Curt started to laugh happily. "I could fly!"

"Why did you move on so quickly from me?" Owen asked him tenderly. "I told you I would come back to you."

"I never moved on, Owen. Never." Curt assured him, still beaming. "I never will."

"Then you really don't have anything going on with the Prince?" Owen asked. "There are rumours, you know."

"Never." Curt shook his head. "He's so far from being my type..."

"Good." Owen sighed in relief.

"You were dead..." Curt sighed, still in shock.

"I'll explain later." Owen chuckled. "Well... I suppose there's a lesson to take from this, 'sir knight'."

"And what would that be?" Curt smirked playfully.

"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for awhile." Owen smirked back.

"I will never doubt you again." Curt promised him.

"There will never be a need." Owen promised him in return.

And with that, they sealed their agreement with a kiss. It was tender, loving , and gentle- a representation of all of the wonderful things about love. It had been a long time coming... But oh, was it ever sweet. Both tangled their hands in each other's hair, taking in every moment they could to its fullest. And with that kiss, they knew that their love was stronger than anything that any prince, king, or fireswamp could throw their way.

#spies are forever #saf #tin can brothers #tcb #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #agent owen carvour #joey richter #oneshot #curtwen #tw: mentions of death #tw: violent thoughts #fanfic #the princess bride au #aaaaaa #this was so cute!#thank you!

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gentlemen-of-lies · 3 years ago

Text

Gentlemen of Lies, prologue

Agent Curt Mega? Never heard of him...

(Next chapter)

————

Earl’s Court, London, England- 1947

“Sorry, mate. Rest of the place is all booked up.” Curt sighed, and leant in close to the man at the reception.

“Listen, I can’t sleep in that room. The bed’s broken, the taps won’t work. No offence, but it’s a pile of shit.”

“Oh I’m sorry, Mr. Yankee, I’m sure you’re used to fancy American hotels, but we’re living in post-war London. You’re lucky to get a bed at all.”

“You must have a room with better facilities I- look...” he took his wallet out of his breast pocket and pulled out a wad of pound notes, waving it in front of the receptionist. “How about we make a deal, eh... Bill?” He began, glancing at the receptionist’s name tag, his tone lower and trying to make himself appear as persuasive as possible. “I’ll give you double the room is worth if you just let me swap rooms with the lucky guy who gets a working shower.” Bill pondered the offer for a moment, then sighed.

“For the love of Gordon Bennett, fine.” He grabbed the money from Curt’s hand and pocketed it. Curt smiled at him, with a slight smugness, which did nothing to decrease Bill’s disdain for him.

“You better hope I don’t lose business over this... bloody Americans. You’re coming with me,” he added. “You can have room 23, whoever’s in that one, and if they get pissed you’re getting the brunt of it.” Curt rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He supposed it was the least he could do, if only to stop the risk of Bill kicking him out altogether. He’d been wandering around Earl’s Court all day trying to find a hostel that was both available and liveable in. So far this was the only one he’d managed to find, and it was hanging on by a thread. Typical Cynthia. Carting him off to London on a case she never wanted to deal with in the first place, and not even finding him any sort of accommodation beforehand.

“You’re going to some shithole in London to work on a case for MI6. You’re already on thin ice, newbie, so don’t fuck it up,” was all she had said to him. A bag of weapons had been shoved into his arms, a passport and a plane ticket, with only a vague idea of where he was headed. The rest was up to him, and customs had been a fucking nightmare.

Bill knocked on the door of room 23, situated down a damp corridor with equally damp carpets, coloured an atrocious orange that almost hurt Curt’s eyes. The sooner this case was solved the better, he thought with a scowl.

The door opened, and to his surprise, it wasn’t a down-on-his-luck old man, which was the usual status of residents in these places, but a very beautiful woman, seemingly alone. She stared at both of them, irritated by the sudden interruption.

“What?” She asked, not as a question but as a statement.

“Sorry, love, but this gent wants to swap rooms,” began Bill, but Curt suddenly interjected.

“Actually, you know what... let her keep the room. I’ll stay in mine. I couldn’t possibly steal a room from such a lovely lady as yourself.” He flashed her what he thought was a winning smile, but she simply wrinkled her nose up at him and shut the door in their faces. Bill turned to him.

“I’m not giving up the money just cos you’re trying to get a shag.” Curt fought to hold back a scathing retaliation. ‘Don’t get kicked out,’ he told himself, almost biting his tongue off.

“Fine.” So Curt had to return to his room, as broken and damp as always, but now he was twenty pounds short. No wonder Cynthia kept calling him the worst agent she’d ever had the misfortune to work with. He couldn’t even bribe his way to a better room. Preferably one where he didn’t get throat punched by a spring in his disgusting excuse for a mattress. He rummaged around in the one bag he was allowed for personal items, taking out a silver flask and uncapping it. He knew the worst thing he could do was turn up on the job hungover, but by this point, he couldn’t help but accept that he was never going to be a world-famous spy, or even a very good spy. And he needed a drink just to get through the night in this bloody place.

Huh. Bloody. God, he was already becoming a Brit.

He took a swig from the flask, and as he did, the overhead lights switched off without warning. From out of the window, he saw the same thing happening to a number of buildings along the street. A power cut.

Just what he needed.

————

He must have gone to sleep at some point in the early morning, because when he opened his eyes, he found he could see again. The lights were still a bust, but daylight was finally shining through the window. In fact the sun appeared to be rather high in the sky... he blinked for a second...

Shit!

He checked his watch. 12:34. Twelve thirty fucking four!?

He jumped out of his bed, the frame creaking dangerously, and he had to sit back down immediately, holding his head. He groaned.

Jeez, how much had he drunk last night?

Cynthia was going to blow up on his ass when he returned back to America. Maybe he should just stay here, fake his death, change his name, live out the rest of his life in this dirty hellhole. Compared to what he had to face up to, it was almost tempting.

But, no. He had to do his job. And maybe, just maybe, he could try not to fuck up again. Cynthia might let him off lightly if he still managed to solve the case... whatever the case was...

“Great start, Mega, you don’t even know what you’re trying to fucking solve,” he said out loud. He finally stood back up again, holding onto the table top by the window for support. All he had to do was get dressed, skip showering unless he had the guts to knock on that woman’s door and ask to use hers- which he didn’t- and meet the guy he was getting partnered with at some café down the road. They had to meet at one o’clock. He could make it if he just hurried, sobered up and got a move on, and hopefully not look like a mess in front of his new, temporary partner- whoever that was going to be.

#spies are forever #spies are forever fanfiction #spies are forever prequel #curt mega x owen carvour #tin can bros #gentlemen of lies #agent curt mega #owen carvour #starkid

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too-attached-to-fiction · 4 years ago

Text

Where I’m Supposed To Be | curtwen

Masterlist here

Word count: 2263

Summary: In which Owen doesn’t die, and Curt tries to fix their relationship.

Read on ao3

~~~

“You know, killing me won’t take the system offline, so… What are you doing?” Owen asks, his voice getting softer as Curt walks closer, aiming the gun. Owen wants to sob; at last, he’ll be free from Chimera. If he could push Curt even further, get Curt to kill him before Owen’s forced to destroy the last piece of his past, this would be over. He’ll leave the world of spies, Chimera, the impending war all behind for the darkness that awaits every living creature.

Curt’s jaw is set, and there’s a certain sadness Owen’s never seen before in his eyes. Owen would laugh bitterly if there wasn’t a gun pointed at his forehead. In all lifetimes, Curt’s the one meant to kill him. It’s only a matter of time.

Instead, Curt’s hand becomes shaky, and he moves the gun mere inches away. Owen shuts his eyes at the loud bang that follows, but he doesn’t feel anything. He knows that even with a shaky hand, Curt would be able to shoot at this range.

When he finally opens his eyes, Curt is still there. “I believe there is good in you.” He whispers. “I shouldn’t. But I do.” He steps closer, close enough that surely, he hears how much Owen’s heart is pounding. “Forgive me.”

He shoots down at Owen’s thighs. But the adrenaline Owen had earlier is wearing off, and even though he’s in excruciating pain, he only stares Curt in the eyes before collapsing into nothing.

Owen goes in and out for the next few hours. He hears a russian woman talking to Curt about second chances, but he blacks out before he can understand what the conversation is about.

The next time he’s awake (or at least, conscious), he hears Mrs. Mega herself, her strong New Jersey accent giving her away immediately.

“Christ, Tati, first you bring me Curt bleeding out and now you both bring home… Wait, Curt, that isn’t..?” Owen can hear the older woman’s voice soften. “You told me he was… I thought…”

“Me too, Mom.” Curt sighs softly.

Owen’s knocked out for three days after they bring him to the safe house. Anna Mega fusses over him more than ever, looking through the doorway every hour. She doesn’t let Curt cuff Owen to the bedposts, amidst his protests that his ex-partner could escape without them knowing.

“He’s practically a ghost, Curtis. So skinny since I saw him last.” Anna rambles on the second night, during dinner. Tatiana went back to the agency with Barb earlier in the day, promising to let Cynthia know that Curt wasn’t going to be returning for a while.

“I know.”

“You told me he was dead.”

“I thought he was.”

“Then why is he in my guest room? From what Tatiana tells me, he wanted to kill you.” She says casually as she takes a bite of her roasted veggies. Curt pushes his food around his plate, but she pretends not to notice.

“I couldn’t kill him. Not again.”

“But you could shoot him in both thighs.”

“The bullets didn’t hit any bone-”

His mother held up a hand, signaling for him to be quiet. “You’re lucky enough to have a second chance. Most people don’t get that.”

Curt is silent for the rest of dinner.

~~~

The sun is what wakes Owen up. It shines brightly into the small room, and he blinks. He can’t feel his legs, but he knows what happened. And he knows this room almost too well.

He shouldn’t be here. He should be dead. He was supposed to be dead.

When Anna stops by for her hourly check-in, she walks in as if everything is fine and sits on the bed. “I was wondering if you were gonna wake up.” She says. “I hope you don’t mind, I had to wash you a few times while you were asleep.”

“Th-that’s alright.” His voice sounds unstable. Anna frowns.

“I’ll get Curt for you. Don’t move, honey, the stitches are still fresh.” She pats his knee gently before standing up.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, right now.”

“You should talk.” Anna says, so quietly that Owen almost doesn’t hear her. “Your wounds aren’t the only things that need fixing.”

Owen shuts his eyes, bringing his hands to his face. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He had to kill Curt before Chimera got to him.

Curt shuffled in, dragging a chair with him as he did so.

“Agent Mega.”

“Agent Carvour.” They both stare at each other.

“What do you remember?” Curt’s face shows no emotion.

“Why did you save me?” Owen blurts out, but he hopes his face is emotionless. “I could kill you, right here.”

“Your gun is back where we were, and you have a bullet wound in each of your thighs. If I got close enough, maybe you could kill me. But you won’t.”

“You have too much faith in me, Mega.”

Curt is silent for a moment. “You could have answers. Answers we need.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to give those answers easily.”

“I don’t. But you don’t get to die like a coward. I’m not letting you off that easy.” Curt says, and Owen notes that he’s clenching his fist.

“Doing this won’t make you better than them. They nursed me back to health and started the torture after.” Owen lets that slip out. He wants Curt to be better, but after all the pain he’s caused Owen, Owen isn’t sure if that’s realistic anymore.

“You think- That’s a stupid question. I’m not going to torture you. Shooting you was the worst part.” Curt shakes his head. “I think that’s enough for today.”

He walks out, rubbing his eyes with his fingers the way he always did when he was upset. Owen stares at the open doorway before sighing and putting his head back on the pillow.

Over the next few days, Anna stops by to bring Owen food and entertainment. Some days, she stops by and continues conversations like usual, as if he had never died in the first place. His only form of passing time is reading Anna’s entire collection of Jane Austen novels, though he requests poetry when she goes into town.

One day, Curt walks in again. He doesn’t say anything, just sits in the chair he had brought in days ago and stares off.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance.” Owen says. “It would have been easier for the both of us.”

“It would have been easier for you.” Curt retaliates, and Owen shuts his mouth. “I mourned and grieved for you for years. If I had known you were alive-”

“I wouldn’t say that I was living. Truth be told, I don’t remember a lot of it.”

“I would have gone to the ends of Earth to find you.” Curt continues, pretending to ignore Owen (he tucks away that information for later). “Do you still love me?”

“I stopped that night.” Curt looks down, and Owen feels a pinch of guilt and pity tugging at his heart.

“I never did.” Curt says. “I wanted to tell you, that night.”

“We can’t go back to that. We’re not the same people-”

“You’re right. We’re not.” Curt sighs. “But we can try again, and maybe this time it’ll be better.”

“You’re a fool if you think it’s that easy to go back to the past.”

“I want to try. Do you want to try?”

They stare at each other.

“After all this time, all the torture and pain, you want to be with me?” Owen laughs. “When Chimera or the Secret Service find us, we’re as good as dead. I could still kill you.”

“You won’t.” Curt says, with an air of confidence. “I know you won’t.”

They don’t talk for weeks after. Once Owen relearns to walk, he spends his days with Anna, helping her with whatever she needs to do. Sometimes Curt joins them, but neither say a word when he does.

It isn’t until Tatiana comes back that Curt utters a word to Owen.

Anna has taken her leave, busying herself with the laundry as the Russian spy saunters in, walking into the kitchen with a grin on her face.

“The last base. It’s gone.” She declares, dropping a case file on the table before the two men. “We blew it up last night.”

She looks at Owen. “How are you feeling?”

He’s heard this question before. Anna asks him that every day. But this time, with Curt watching and Tatiana’s playful expression, he swallows nervously.

“Content.” He says finally, trying to ignore Curt’s surprised face in the corner of his eye.

Tatiana only nods. “Curt, give me a moment with Owen, please.” She says, and Curt practically scrambles out of the kitchen. She looks after him fondly, chuckling before sitting down. Tatiana turns her gaze to Owen, and suddenly, the room feels ten degrees cooler. He’s never been afraid in all of his years as a spy, but she looks at him as if everything he’s ever done is right in front of her.

“How are you… adapting? It can’t have been easy.” She asks, crossing her legs and leaning back, studying him.

“You’re Russian.”

“I do not represent my country. Answer the question.”

“Anna’s been lovely, I’ve been helping her around the house.”

“And Curt?” She watches him freeze, just barely. Still, being the spy she is, she picks it up immediately. “I thought as much. Have you talked?”

“A bit.” Owen admits, his shoulders sagging. “It never amounts to anything.”

“He told me.”

“Then why ask?”

She eyes him for a moment before changing positions, leaning forward. “I do not understand why he chose to save you that night. He’s stubborn.” She drawls. “He sees something in you I cannot. Maybe he sees remorse, or regret. Either way, you owe him at least a few words.”

“We both should be dead, there’s nothing that I can say-”

“I believe there is. He cares about what you think, and so do you.”

“I stopped caring the night he left.”

“You kid yourself.” She stares at him. “You are afraid of what could happen.”

“Aren’t we all, my dear?” His walls are back up again. He gives her a wry smile, spreading his hands as if to say c’est la vie. She doesn’t fall for the false bravado, instead shooting him a cold stare.

“You especially. It’s been a month. He needs answers, and so do you.”

She stands up, walking to the door. “Owen,” she starts, looking back at him, “don’t lie to yourself. You’ll only make things harder.” Her heels click on the worn hardwood floor as she walks out.

There’s quiet arguing coming from the living room for a moment before Owen sighs. “I do hope you know you are being terribly obvious with those whispers.” He calls out, and Curt appears, stumbling into the kitchen. Behind him, Tatiana gives Owen a slight nod before walking off to find Anna.

“I didn’t think you’d find everything.” Owen says as Curt sits down.

“I’m not chasing you anymore.” Curt shakes his head. “You were their biggest weapon.”

“Only a pawn.”

“I thought you’d be excited.”

Owen looks at him. What do you want from me? His eyes ask, and Curt sighs.

“You’re free from Chimera, Owen. I stopped working for the agency before we found you. We can get a house on the Upper East Side, and stay there.”

“Curt, stop trying to fix what’s been broken. You don’t need to make a mess of yourself.” Owen barks out a laugh, but his insides are twisting. Could he spare enough hope to believe his ex-partner? Was this all enough to forgive Curt Mega, the man who left him for dead four years ago?

“What will it take to convince you that I want to be with you?”

“Nothing that you can possibly think of.”

“So what, then? Do we hide here forever in my mother’s safe house and pretend that the time we shared and the memories in my- in our heads - never existed?” Curt asks.

Owen looks at him. The corners of Curt’s mouth are pointing down, his bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. Curt’s always been the more emotional one, but Owen’s never seen him this way. The twisting feeling in Owen’s stomach can’t be ignored anymore. Any wrong word, any misstep, and Curt will fall apart. Owen’s sure of it.

“I know I hurt you. And I don’t know how many times I have to say sorry and try to fix this, but I want to…” Curt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I don’t want to pretend everything’s fine. Even if it isn’t, I still want you by my side.”

Owen’s always been good with his words. Every sentence has always been smooth, calculated, confident. His silver tongue has gotten him far, kept him alive for the past four years. He’s always known exactly what to say in every situation. To get out of whatever binds he’s trapped in.

But here, with Curt, in the tiny kitchen of Anna’s safe house in god-knows-where, he’s suddenly found himself at a loss for words.

So Owen opts for the non-verbal instead.

Kissing Curt after four, long years is like coming up for air after spending time underwater. He’s been drowning, unable to breathe for four years, senses and emotions muted by the outside world. Everything clicks, pulls him back into reality. He’s where he’s supposed to be, finally.

#curtwen #spies are forever #tcb #saf fic #spies are forever fic #curtwen fic #curtwen fluff #curtwen angst #this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS

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ao3porcelainstorm · 4 years ago

Text

poison ivy & stinging nettles 5

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Chapter 5- Fungi

~~~

Despite the initial tension regarding Jessica Reynolds, things seem to be progressing well with Amelia’s case. Sherlock was able to pull a number of shipping manifests from the assistant’s computer, each bound for the manufacturing factory in Manila.

It was fortunate that it confirmed almost every compound Amelia had noted when she stole the data set, at least in the cancer drugs.

The problem was the secondary product bound into the cancer drugs that caused adverse effects. The details on the manifests were less than helpful…

~~~

“Psilocybe mushroom components,” Amelia read the computer screen out loud for the third time since Sherlock had passed it to her, annoyance in her tone. “That’s it?”

“Magic mushrooms?” John asked, passing her a cup of tea, she immediately set it aside, scrolling through the computer logs further. “Seems straightforward enough.”

“John, there are over 200 different types of Psilocybe spores,” Amelia pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath. “Sherlock, please tell me you have an idea for how we can possibly narrow it down?”

“How many did you use in your research?” The detective asked, reaching for his own tea cup.

“47,” she answered. “Two were almost identical hybrids, so maybe 46.”

“There you go,” he smirked over the rim of his cup. “Narrowed down.”

“You know we’re going to have to get samples, even if we run the equations, some might work but not technically be the component. Not to mention the cancer drugs might be different,” she groaned and set her cup aside, throwing her head back against the sofa.

“Sherlock, it might be time to contact your brother,” John suggested quietly, earning a glare from the brunette.

“You have a brother?” Amelia asked, her head still flung back with her eyes closed. “Please tell me he’s a reputable drug dealer because it’s going to be a pain in the ass getting these things.”

“Even better, he’s a member of her Majesty’s Royal Government,” Sherlock chimed back. Amelia snorted, remaining still.

“He could also order seizures of the shipments,” John reminded the group coolly, sensing the rising tension between the group.

“Unhelpful if we can’t properly determine the malicious components, John,” Sherlock shot back, picking up on Amelia’s frustration. “The idea is that Chemco’s random samples are unable to be traced, and random.”

“Certainly a shipment would contain some variations?” he asked the pair. Amelia threw her arms up hopelessly, and he frowned. “Sherlock, don’t tell me you’re at a loss?”

“Short of breaking into a hospital, stealing their current supply, and testing it against the 46 varieties of mushroom Mia has worked with, this doesn’t lend a more efficient solution,” the detective hummed, drumming his fingers on his chin in thought.

Silence fell over the group, each person thinking through potential solutions.

“Monty!” Amelia shot up, nearly startling John into dropping his tea.

“What on earth-?” The doctor grumbled while Amelia fished out her phone.

“Ruthie’s brother in law, Monty, he’s an, er, herbal enthusiast,” she explained, tapping into her phone. “I bought a few illicit plants from him when I first moved over. He’s basically got everything you could think of. If not, he’ll know someone who does.”

“Is he in London?”

“Canterbury, lives down the road from Ruthie and her husband,” Amelia got a ping back. “Says we can swing by tomorrow if we’d like. I know offhand, I saw at least a dozen spores in one of his cold storages. I’ll dig up my research list, I can probably narrow down the list from 46 to something more reasonable if I look through what moved to the second stages of trials.”

“And then we go shopping for illicit drugs,” John replied dryly. “And what about the cancer medications?”

Sherlock and Amelia exchanged humored glances. There was certainly something that the doctor was missing.

“What?” John gawked between the pair. “You’re not actually breaking into a hospital, are you?”

“We wouldn’t need much, maybe one or two treatments?” Sherlock asked Amelia, who nodded after doing a quick calculation in her head.

“The binding components are easy enough to track down over the counter, though we might need a better equipped lab than what you’ve got in the kitchen,” she noted.

“That’s not a problem,” Sherlock waved her off, skimming through the list of components from the shipping logs. “Easy.”

“I don’t like it when you two conspire together. It always leads to some sort of trouble,” John pressed, frown deepening.

“John, you’re a doctor,” Amelia reminded him excitedly. “Prescribe poor Sherlock Holmes a chemotherapy treatment for the tumor in his ego.”

“No, absolutely not,” John stood up. “That violates so many ethical rules- besides, you’re a licensed pharmacist. It’d be easier for you.”

“Not here, not yet. I mean, we can let innocent, immune compromised patients die,” Amelia shrugged, leaning back into the sofa. “What a shame about the little babies with leukemia. All because my wicked mother wanted a second mega yacht.”

“What truly is the core of medical ethics Dr. Watson?” Sherlock inquired, slowly closing his laptop, his gaze boring into his friend. “Is it not to protect life?”

John Watson, caught between an American and a hard place, was less than thrilled when he finally, begrudgingly, scribbled his name on a prescription pad and passed it to Sherlock.

“If my license is revoked-,” he threatened, holding it away from Sherlock briefly.

“Will you kill him?” Amelia asked, grabbing her crimson scarf from the back of the sofa and wrapping it around her shoulders. “Because I’d be very interested in seeing that.”

“Don’t think you get off that easy,” John turned his attention to Amelia while Sherlock scampered to his coat, mocking Amelia over John’s shoulder with a smirk. “You’re equally responsible for anything that goes wrong.”

“That’s not fair, I’m an innocent bystander to your collusion,” she pouted, catching her navy pea coat when John tossed it at her head.

“Careful John,” Sherlock warned, passing the doctor his jacket, shielding his friend from Amelia’s sad eyes. “Keep her pouting like that and she’ll convince you to clean her hair out of the shower drain.”

“Just go,” John shoved the detective through the doorway, not bothering to wait for the grumbling Amelia as she pulled her boots on and stumbled her way out the door behind them.

~~~

“And you’re going to be administering the medications at home?” the chemist studied the prescription order, glancing over the paper to John with a quirked brow.

“That’s right,” he answered with a curt nod, his hands stuffed in his pockets to try and stave off the nervous energy that radiated through his core.

“To a Mr. William Holmes?” the chemist looked to Sherlock next to him. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he pulled out his ID and passed it to the woman, flashing a quick smile.

“Did you guys know that Beyonce is pregnant again?” Amelia held up a tabloid to Sherlock. “Oh wait, never mind. Just a rumor.”

“Who is this?” the chemist paused, looking up at Amelia.

“His fiancé,” she replied, setting the magazine aside and looping an arm through Sherlock’s. “Here for moral support. He’s just starting treatment and is nervous as all get out, isn’t that right, love?” For added effect, she snuggled closer, pressing her cheek against his arm.

“I wouldn’t have made it in one piece without her,” he nodded, giving her cheek a quick peck. “Just an absolute blessing.”

“We’re just so lucky to find Dr. Watson,” Amelia continued with a long sigh. “Not a lot of doctor’s are willing to do home treatments within the NHS, you know. And of course I’m completely out of my element with all of it!”

The chemist chuckled empathetically, asking how the pair met as she typed up the order for the supplies. Sherlock and Amelia shot back and forth, exchanging little tidbits about their “relationship” enough to almost convince John it was real.

“The order will be ready tomorrow morning,” the woman smiled at the trio and reached for Amelia’s hand. “I’ll be praying for you both.”

“You’re an angel,” Amelia replied, giving them a squeeze before ushering the group out of the pharmacy with a final wave at the woman.

Back on the street, Amelia slipped a hand into Sherlock’s pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“I did not know your name was William,” she studied his ID, trying to memorize the details before he snatched it from her. “And you’re only three years older than me? I don’t believe that.”

Sherlock grabbed the wallet and ID out her hands, returning them to his coat pocket with a huff.

“Is there no privacy with you?” he grumbled. “And what’s so surprising about how old I am?”

“I just figured you were older,” she shrugged. “I mean, I’m almost thirty, right? I figured you were like, almost forty or something.”

John sputtered out a laugh.

“That’s spectacular,” he threw an arm around her shoulders. “How old do you think I am?”

“John, in all honesty, I have no idea,” she answered. “Sometimes I’m convinced you’re fifty, other times you have to be my age.”

Sherlock snorted under his breath.

“It’s a fair assessment,” she insisted, frowning apologetically at John. “You get very grumpy in the mornings, and the matching flannel pajamas don’t help very much.”

“They’re warm.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful,” Amelia smiled, patting his arm in a placating tone. “I’m just a terrible judge of age apparently. I should have know how old you actually were with all of the part-time super models you bring by.”

“Mia, you’re digging yourself into a hole you’ll regret for the foreseeable future,” Sherlock warned.

“Shush,” Amelia swatted his arm.

“That reminds me,” John glanced down at his phone. “I have a second date with Ann tonight.”

“Is she the one with the Pomeranian?” Amelia asked hopefully. He shook his head and she sighed. “I liked that one.”

“You liked the dog and I’m very allergic,” John reminded her. “Ann is a barrister.”

“Maybe you should make sacrifices for your relationships, John,” she countered. “Have fun with your boring lawyer date.”

“Ann is the boring one, that’s right,” Sherlock perked up.

“She is not boring,” John insisted, flagging down a taxi.

“We’ll call with an ‘emergency’ in a bit,” Amelia promised earnestly. “Get you out of talks about law and order. Blegh.”

“I’m turning my phone off,” he called, slipping into the backseat of the taxi.

“If it wasn’t so cold, I’d be half tempted to follow them,” Amelia mused, continuing down the street with the detective.

“Don’t, they’re seeing that action movie that just came out,” he sighed dramatically. "Boring."

“Movies never make sense as an early date,” she noted. “You can’t talk. How do you get to know anything about the other person? They could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“Exactly, hardly an intimate setting,” he shook his head in disappointment. Amelia looked at him in surprise, stifling a laugh. “What?”

“It’s hard to picture you trying to take someone on a date,” she confessed lightly.

“You’re one to talk,” he countered quickly. “You never leave the flat.”

“You literally don’t let me?” she replied with another laugh. “And arguably, I’ve gone at least one more date than you in the last month.”

“Jessica Reynolds does not count,” he shot back.

“She has the remnants of my favorite shirt on her bedroom floor,” Amelia shivered at the memory. “She counts. John’s been on half a dozen dates since then, yet I’m fairly certain I heard you making love to your calculator the other night.”

“Why did I allow you to move into my building?” Sherlock kept his focus forward. “And I’d be a wonderful date, assuming I knew who i was meeting and could plan accordingly.”

“You’d stalk your date for ideas,” Amelia bit back a smirk. “It’d almost be endearing if it wasn’t super illegal.”

“I do not have to stalk someone to take them on a decent date,” he insisted. “What about you? What would you do aside from a bar?”

“First of all, I would never take someone to a bar on a first date,” she held a hand up, stopping in front of him. “It’s tacky. Would you want to date someone tacky?”

“Ok, where would you take me?” he offered, folding his arms across his chest. Amelia considered his challenge, pulling out her cell phone and tapping at the screen. Grinning at the device, she looked up at him.

“I get a little leeway because I’m not from here,” she warned, flagging down a passing cab.

“What are you doing?” he watched her chat with the driver, and look up at him expectantly.

“I’m taking you on a date,” she answered. “Get in Mr. Holmes, and prepare to be wooed.”

~~~

The Barbican Conservatory wasn’t very busy at midday in the middle of the week, so they were able to secure entrance and tour around the large space without too much interruption from other guests.

“There are over 1,500 different plants in 23,000 cubic square feet of space,” Amelia tucked her hands behind her back. “And the ponds feature koi and carp from Japan and America respectively.”

“Did you just read the pamphlet?” Sherlock asked, looking over the informational packet. “Because you quoted the first paragraph verbatim.”

“It’s because I’m well versed in what I sought out,” she answered with a grin. “Look, flowers.”

She pulled him toward a large selection of tropical flora, naming the species as they moved through in both their common names and scientific ones.

“This one is particularly rare,” she gestured to a bright red flower, the pamphlet long discarded in her coat pocket. Sherlock listened intently, occasionally chiming in his own facts about the flora that surrounded them. He could tell she was pleasantly surprised at his own knowledge on some of the more obscure plants.

“Waitwaitwait,” Amelia pulled him by the wrist toward a large swath of sunflowers. “They’re taller than you, that’s so cool!”

“Does that make them extra haughty?” he retorted, letting her shove him in front of the flowers. She snapped a picture while he continued to quip, ignoring his comments a moment while she saved it to her phone. “Do not show that to anyone.”

“I would never,” she promised. “It’s a good picture, though.” She held her phone up, and sure enough, she’d captured a flattering angle while he’d been laughing.

“I’m not haughty,” he quickly stated.

“You know that isn’t their only meaning,” she hummed, tucking the phone away. “They also mean strength, happiness, confidence… I think they sum you up perfectly.”

“Happiness?”

“Oh that’s right, you were happy once and it was terrible,” she replied coyly. “How could I have forgotten? Happiness can mean bringing it to others as well, Sherlock.”

She turned to look at some lilacs, absently chatting while he stood frozen in place, the words running on repeat in the front of his mind.

Who did he make happy?

~~~

Amelia had a mouth full of falafel when Sherlock decided on where he was going to take her next.

“Mmwha mwean?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion. “Dwon’t swteal mwwy dawte!”

“You did an adequate job,” he answered. “But I still think I’m the superior date planner.”

She swallowed her food, eyeing distrustfully.

“I’m only interested if it’s a very old cemetery,” she replied, stealing one of his chips. “And it better be nighttime and there had better be ghosts.”

“There is no such thing as ghosts,” Sherlock clarified sharply.

“Consider this date over,” she stood up from the public bench they’d settled on. “It’s not me, it’s definitely you.”

“Amelia, come back,” he called, but she continued down the road, night starting to swallow the city. “They’re theoretically impossible.”

~~~

Amelia had to admit (though never out loud), Sherlock Holmes did know a thing or two about impressing a date (despite his disbelief in ghosts).

He purchased her a pink peony, her favorite flower, from a street vendor.

Next, they went to the aquarium, where they wandered away from the main tour and Sherlock gave his own version of the tour, naming the fish and telling her random facts about their origins. Together, they came up with complex names and origin stories for all of the fish.

“The puffer fish is obviously fed up with the whale shark’s nonsense,” Amelia laughed, pointing out the fish blowing up as the white shark passed it in the tank. “He’s probably having an affair with the puffer fish’s wife.”

“I don’t know, the whale shark was eyeing the sea turtle…” Sherlock mused, watching the mesmerizing scene next to her.

Every once in a while, Amelia would steal a look at him. The way the light reflected around them, and how it flickered through his blue eyes- should almost wished she had a paint pallet to try and capture the almost perfect cerulean color.

They left the aquarium chuckling about an octopus that had escaped during a demonstration, night having finally swept over the city.

“Ok,” she relented. “You win this round.”

“I’m not done yet,” he pulled his phone out and glanced up. “We have a final stop.”

“What else could you have planned on such short notice?” she asked, letting him grab her hand and pull her along.

“I told you, I know what I’m doing,” he teased, stopping after a few blocks, looking up at the glowing carriages of the London Eye. “It’s not a cemetery.”

“Might be better,” Amelia admitted.

And it was.

Amelia had never experienced anything so spectacular in her life. The lights over the Thames and the London skyline were unlike anything she’d seen before. The old city had a different energy to it compared to New York, and from the top of the famous Ferris wheel, she could see it all.

“I can’t believe we live in the same city as all of this,” she gestured below them. “It doesn’t seem real.”

“It looks like stars,” he agreed, looking over the edge.

“And the reflection on the river?” Amelia continued to gush in excitement, practically jumping around the edges of the capsule as they moved through the sky.

It was over far too quickly, though Amelia knew they needed to get back. John was probably long home from his date.

“You win,” she sighed. “You definitely win, but only for today.”

“That means there’s a second date?” he smirked, offering her his arm as they walk. She took it, falling in step while they tried to track down a taxi.

Amelia knew he was teasing. It was more of an outing between friends, a means to prove a point with no real intimate feelings involved. A challenge.

She repeated this to herself as she stared at the peony in her hands on the taxi ride home. Or when Sherlock made a quiet quip about extra marital whale shark affairs.

He had to prove his point, and he did. She was sufficiently surprised, and very much felt conflicted about it.

When they returned, Amelia cut into the conversation before John could ask where they’d been. He told her all about his date, and that while Ann was very nice, there probably wasn’t a third date in their future.

“Because she’s boring?” Sherlock joked, pulling out his laptop and checking his email.

“We have different interests,” John clarified sharply. “I think I’m going to take a break from dating for a bit. What about you two? What did you do all day?” His eyes fell on the peony in Amelia’s hand, and she froze, not sure how to respond.

“We went on a date,” Sherlock spoke up confidently from his perch, eyeing John and waiting for a reaction.

“You… on a date?” he looked between the pair. “Both of you? Together?”

Admittedly, it was a bit fun watching their friend process the information. Amelia just braced herself for when Sherlock clarified their challenge with one another.

“Yep,” he answered, popping the “p”. “It was a lovely day, wasn’t it Mia?”

Dazed, Amelia choked out an affirmative, her head still catching up with the fact there hadn’t been any specifications as to the motivation behind everything.

“A long day,” she forced out a yawn. “I’m going to put this in some water and head to bed. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow, don’t forget. I have our train tickets already, but one of you needs to get the chemotherapy into the fridge before we go.”

Both men said goodnight and she slipped downstairs to her apartment, sneaking a final glance over her shoulder, in case he was going to add anything else to the date conversation.

“A date?” John waited until Amelia was out of earshot. “You never mentioned being interested like that. In fact, you mocked me.”

“We were merely getting to know one another,” he shrugged. “Initially we were trying to prove a point, but it turned into an enjoyable afternoon. Though, I wouldn’t get too excited about it, John.”

“And why not?” John asked. “She’s been here for two months now, you two get along in your weird, mad scientist way, it could be a good match.”

“I’m far too busy to have time for romantic partners,” Sherlock shot the suggestion down. He stilled, his hands resting on the keys of his laptop. “And she seemed odd just now, didn’t she?”

“No more than usual,” John replied. “Worried she didn’t enjoy herself? You got her a flower, I’m sure she was enthralled.”

“A peony,” Sherlock corrected quietly. “She likes peonies. They’re in the perfume she wears.”

“Maybe she’s just deep in denial, much like yourself, and needed to sleep to get her head straight?” John snorted, standing up from his chair. “Speaking of, don’t stay up too late.”

Sherlock waved him off, staring down at his computer and re-reading the same sentence over and over. He couldn’t focus on any of his cases right now, his head was all over the place.

Grabbing his violin, he plucked away at the strings, trying to find a sound for the chaos in his head.

Meanwhile, laying in bed with her eyes closed, listening to the soft sounds, Amelia decided she had more important things to think about besides date challenges and eccentric roommates.

Things like corrupt CEOs and fungi.

Chapter 6

#sherlock original female character #sherlock holmes #sherlock #sherlock/ofc #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock fanfic #writing #john watson #watson #OFC #sherlock/oc #sherlock/reader #reader insert #reader

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id-never-letyoudown · 5 years ago

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I just want a curtwen Kiss gimme amy kind of curtwen kiss

"Shit!" Curt hissed.

There went today's training session.

"Shitshitshitshit." The staff had just flown right out of his damn hands. He hadn't meant to whack Owen right in the damn face. This was just supposed to be a friendly sparring match. He never meant to draw blood. "Owen, are you okay?" He blurted out, holding on to his partner's shoulders.

"Christ, Curt." His hands were covering his mouth, "How is it you aim better when you're not paying any bloody attention?"

"Are you alright?" He asked him, worry etched onto his features.

"I'm fine. You just split my lip is all. No need to go all mother hen on me." And Owen finally withdrew his hands, running his tongue along his teeth. "Damn lucky you didn't catch my nose. I'd be awfully sore then." He licked his lips, shaking his head. "Jesus, Curt."

"It was an accident, if I wanted to hurt you I wouldn't have aimed for the face." He's frowning, taking his sleeve to the busted lip. If only to be rid of the blood. "Never this handsome mug."

"Flattery won't get you out of buying me dinner, Curt."

The American took a pause, one hand holding Owen's chin to keep him still. "Oh? Is this your way of asking me on a date?"

"You owe me that much, I'd like to think."

He withdrew his hand, "And I think I recall you landing a few awful blows during our last sparring session. Where's my recompense?"

This stirred up a smirk, "You had your dessert. In fact, if I recall correctly. You had not only seconds, but thirds."

Curt's blush settled on his cheeks, "Owen-"

"I mean, if dinner's too much for you. You could always kiss it better." He prompted, managing to look ever so cocky with that split lip of his.

Curt rolled his eyes, "You're unbelievable."

"I'm also waiting."

He looked to him, unable to hold back the smile that always seemed to crop up when they were together. Curt relented, hand resting on Owen's cheek. He kissed him gently, lips soft and warm.

And then the air was knocked out of his lungs. Curt found himself flat on his back. Dazed and winded. And staring straight up at the cocky bastard now standing over him, feet planted on either side of him.

"Never said the session was over with, Mega."

#goodies.fics #curtwen #saf #spies Are Forever

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sometimesiwanna-disappear · 5 years ago

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Rules: Answer 21 questions and tag 21 people!

no way am i tagging a whole 21 people lmao. i’ll tag *three*

tagged by: @potatoes-tomatoes aaa tysm <3

Name: Isabelle

Nickname: Cookie. Rarely, friends will call me Izzy and send me into an embarrassingly flustered state because it’s a cuter name than I deserve ahaha

Gender: Female

Star Sign: ?? Sagittarius but astrology sucks i only like homestuck and even that one’s under fire atm

Current Time: 6:40 PM

Song stuck in my head: Dead Mom from Beetlejuice and What Do You Say from Black Friday, it’s been a showtunes kind of week

Last movie I saw: Onward! I cried yall

Last thing I Googled: “Curt Mega” . . . . no comment

Other Blogs: a few will remain a secret but @thecookieshop is my artblog and i have an invader zim blog that all of you should probably stay away from GFKJLFGH called @vampirepiggyhunterdefensesquad

Do I get asks: nope not at all. i’m dead here and proud of it. im sorry again to all of you who i have let down with my empty promises

Reasons for your url: AAARGH i JUST changed my url. FRICK. ok my favorite favorite FAVORITE thing used to be Heathers and my url was yo-girl-time-to-die as a reference to a song from that musical. now it’s a reference to a foster the people song and also a mood.

Following: 331. I’ve been on an unfollowing streak lately lmao, trying to purge my dash of things that make me feel shitty :D

Average Sleep: probably around 7 hours, not too bad, except i sleep in until 10 on most days so

Lucky Number: ??? you can have lucky numbers ? ? uh i guess i rlly like 5. also 21. and 2000

Currently Wearing: OOH OOH ok i got my black goth boots and long striped neon invader zim socks and boy’s jeans rolled up a bit so you can see the awesome socks. and a cutesy sleeveless flower shirt. i’m grunge on my bottom half and prep on my top and i think that’s beautiful

Dream Job: i wanna write!! i want to do writer’s rooms for television shows and cartoons and also draw if i can get the chance. I would absolutely love to have my own graphic novel/webtoon and i have one in the works. I want to make stories!! but most of all i just want to do something and do it well and bring happiness to others through my success.

Dream Trip: i really wanna go to Ireland and Rome. It’s a dream of mine to eventually visit Lourdes, since I have a personal connection with the spirituality of that place <3 but I also want to see New Zealand. But I don’t particularly want to to travel? If none of that ever works out I’m cool. I guess my dream trip is across the world with some people I love who I can share it with! It doesn’t matter as much where we go as what we do together!

Favorite Food: S P A G H E T T I. I also really love carrot cake, cheesecake, and chocolate of any kind. Currently addicted to flamin hot cheetos as well

Favorite Song: either Touch Tone Telephone by Lemon Demon or Houdini by Foster the People. or Oh No by marina. or Show Me Your Hands from TGWDLM. . . or

Instruments: I’m teaching myself guitar right now, and I play some simple piano though I haven’t practiced in a long time hahaha.

@admiralara @katiekomics @badwolferosewrites @eosiadusk @nic-h @toastess-with-the-mostess

#have fun yall sorry for the tag #me #long post #text post #it's been so many years that i cant remember how i tag personal posts on tumblr wtf #personal #i speak #maybe it was that???#ANYWAY

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chitaprrrrrrrr · 5 years ago

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LGBT+ Fiction Rec

Carol // movie, book, nsfw, wlw

Therese Beliveit sees Carol at a department store and is instantly drawn to her. The two women become close but are faced with the challenges of Carol’s rocky divorce and the struggles of being gay in the 1950s.

The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue // book, mlm, ace

Follows the story of Henry Montague, the son of a lord in eighteenth-century England, his sister, and his childhood best friend as their trip to Europe turns into a manhunt when he accidentally steals something more valuable than he could have imagined. Lots of great representation including a main interracial couple. There’s also a sequel called The Lady’s Guide to Petticoats and Piracy, which focuses on his aro/ace sister.

Maurice // book, movie, nsfw, mlm

It’s the early twentieth century England, there are some rumors about a war that may be coming up, and Maurice Hall has realized that how he feels about his very attractive male friend is not just friendship. I’m talking vintage gays, repression, commentary on class struggles, and more vintage gays. When I say that this book/movie was ahead of its time, I mean it.

Spies Are Forever // musical, mlm

After Agent Curt Mega’s partner Owen dies while trying to escape a Russian facility, he takes a break from the spy life. But when he becomes a spy again, he finds out that his past is harder to escape from than he thought. Spies, gays, the Cold War, and a killer soundtrack. What more do you need? Uploaded by the creator on Youtube for free.

The Handmaiden // movie, nsfw, wlw

Sook-Hee’s a Korean pickpocket posing as a handmaiden to steal a Japanese heiress of her fortune. The plan gets complicated when Sook-Hee starts getting close to the heiress.

Good Omens // tv show, book, mlm, trans

If you were on Tumblr in June 2019, you probably already know what’s up. If not, an angel and a demon fall in love with humanity (and maybe a little with each other) and decide to stop the end of the world together. The creators have confirmed that seeing the main characters as trans (or basically every other LGBT identity) is valid.

I Love You, Philip Morris // movie, nsfw, mlm

Be Gay. Do Crime. And watch Jim Carrey and Ewan Mcgregor fall in love in prison. A very good romantic comedy that’s also based on a true story.

The Adventure Zone // podcast, book, mlm, wlw, trans

A roleplaying podcast done by the McElroys. The first campaign, Balance, is a fantasy story with things like elves and dwarves. The second campaign, Amnesty, is a modern-day story in West Virginia with things like Bigfoot and the Mothman. Both of them are very good and very gay. The Balance arc also has a graphic novel adaptation.

God’s Own Country // movie, nsfw, mlm

Think British Brokeback Mountain but instead of the main conflict being homophobia, it’s commitment issues. Has some more graphic sheep farming veterinary scenes. Overall, it’s very good.

Check, Please! // webcomic, mlm

Eric “Bitty” Bittle, former figure skater, decides to join the hockey team at Samwell University. The main problem being that the whole concept of checking (physical contact on the ice) terrifies him. That, and the team captain is as hot as he is intimidating.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show // movie, mlm

Straight-laced Brad and his fiance Janet’s car breaks down during a storm. Luckily for them, they stumble upon the mansion of Dr. Frank-N-Furter, a drag queen scientist, where they meet several other interesting characters, including Frank-N-Furter’s new creation, a man named Rocky, and lose their innocence. Think 1950s sci-fi meets 1970s sexual revolution or if Frankenstein was a musical.

Firebringer // musical, wlw

You probably know about this musical through the whole “I don’t want to do the work today” vine. What that vine leaves out is that the show is about prehistoric bisexuals and their discovery of fire. Uploaded by the creator on Youtube for free.

Call me By Your Name // book, movie, nsfw, mlm

Elio Perlman was expecting to have a normal summer in Italy where he would work on his music, read books, and spend time with his girlfriend. What he was not expecting was getting close to the handsome intern working for his father.

Carry On // book, mlm

Enemies-to-lovers slow burn about a vampire and the Chosen One. Takes typical YA tropes and spins them on their heads. The sequel Wayward Son has just come out and the final book in the series, Any Way the Wind Blows, was just announced.

The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert // movie, mlm, trans

Two Australian drag queens and a trans woman go on a road trip through the Australian desert together. Some racist/transphobic scenes that have not aged well since the 90s but besides those it’s a pretty heartwarming story.

Welcome to Night Vale // podcast, book, mlm, wlw, trans

A sci-fi horror podcast about a strange Western town called Night Vale and what goes on in it. Features a main gay character and lots of the side characters are also LGBT. There are several books that focus on different parts of the universe that you can also read.

Brooklyn 99 // tv show, mlm, wlw

Weirdly, I haven’t seen this show put on any LGBT media recs before. The show follows the 99th precinct of the New York police department. While the main character is not gay himself (although he is either bi or EXTREMELY comfortable in his sexuality), his boss, the police captain, is an openly gay black man married to another man and one of the supporting characters later comes out as bisexual and has relationships with women. Overall, a very funny show that also offers a good commentary on issues that we deal with in society today.

Rock and Riot // webcomic, wlw, mlm, trans, ace

Follows two rival gangs from the 1950s and their struggles with understanding their sexual orientation and gender identity. A little bit of period typical homophobia and racism but not so much that its a bummer.

Professor Marston and the Wonder Woman // movie, nsfw, wlw

Contrary to what the title may lead you to believe, this is not a DC Universe movie. It’s actually about the creator of Wonder Woman and the lie detector and his polyamorous relationship with the two women who inspired Wonder Woman.

Shameless // tv show, nsfw, mlm, wlw, trans

Focusing on the Gallager family, a low-income family from Chicago and their struggle to survive. One of the main characters, Ian, is openly gay and has had many relationships throughout the series, most notably his on-again-off-again relationship with Mickey Milkovich. Disclaimer: there are some scenes with some pretty brutal homophobia that can be very hard to watch. Also let’s just say that when Ian was a minor, not all of his relationships were with other minors.

Alice Isn’t Dead // podcast, book, wlw

Keisha becomes a truck driver to find her missing wife who had been presumed dead (Alice). Because as it turns out, Alice isn’t dead. A very good horror mystery that captures American road trip gothic better than most pieces of media. Also has a book adaptation.

The Favourite // movie, wlw

Abigail has lost everything. She has no money, no title, and no status. Lucky for her, she has a cousin, Sarah, who is very powerful and close to the Queen. She then begins to work at the palace and the two cousins compete for the favor of the queen, but their motivations to be close to the Queen are very different.

Shaderunners // webcomic, mlm, wlw, trans

A 1920s style webcomic except homophobia doesn’t exist and neither does color, at least not for the proletariat. A group of people join together to change that (the color thing, not the homophobia thing). A very good representation of a variety of identities.

Kill Your Darlings // movie, mlm

About the famous American poet Allen Ginsberg, his relationship with Lucien Carr, the beginning of the Beat generation of poetry, and the murder of David Krammer. Again with the period typical homophobia but nothing too extreme or disturbing.

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sweetsmalldog · 5 years ago

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Finding the Lost Part 4

Part 3 Part 5

Warnings: Mentions of child death, mentions of drug use, alcohol, swearing, blood, parental death

Description: Tatiana gets some answers but also many more questions

Author’s Note: Curt doesn’t half to actually be here for me to make him suffer

Tatiana knocks on the apartment door. The door opens to a slightly manic Owen Cavour. His button up full of wrinkles, his complexion pale, and his eyes red from the irritation of him rubbing them.

“Hello I’m Detective Slozhno.” She greets.

“Hi Doctor Carvour.” He replies his voice stiff as he lets her in.

Tatiana’s boots clacked on the polished dark wood. The room was spilt leveled with the living room on a lower level. The matching couch, loveseat, and armchair were all dark leather. A scratching post was sitting in the corner of the living room by the large windows that had a beautiful view of the city.

Three fluffy cats sat in different parts of the room. One was curled by a running laptop on the couch. One was sprawled on the armchair seemingly asleep. And the last one way on top of the loveseat.

Owen gestures for her it sit on the couch with him as he moves his laptop to his lap awkwardly.

She sits “Ok I’m just going to ask a few questions.”

“I need to say something’s first.” Owen’s voice was taunt “I know I’m not an investigator but this goes deeper then you think.”

She sent him a look “What?”

“Empaths going missing this is deeper then Curt. At least twelve Empaths have gone missing in two weeks.” Owen breathes “I know that sounds like a low number for a city like this but their are only about sixty Empaths living here”.

“How do you know that?” She questions, what was Carvour on?

“I study Empaths. It’s my job. Ever heard of the Diane Mega foundation?” Owen asks.

“No...” She trails off.

“It was created to help Empaths understand their powers and what effect they have on them.” Owen replies.

“Who’s Diane Mega?” Tatiana says as she scratches the cat under her chin.

“Curt’s mother.” Owen sighs.

“What?” Tatiana meets Owen’s eyes.

“It was founded by Curt’s aunt. I don’t know why it was named after her.” Owen shifts “But it was.”

“Why?” Tatiana questions.

“I can only imagine because she watched Curt suffer threw his childhood with no way to help him.” Owen replies softly.

“What could Curt do?” She would really like to understand who the fuck she’s looking for.

“Curt just had your basic Empath power, feeling the emotions of others.” Owen continues “But usually Empaths have mental walls that stop them from receiving the emotions of absolutely around them, Curt didn’t have those.”

“Why not?” Tatiana inquires.

“From what I can tell, childhood trauma.” Owen takes a large sip of his ice water.

“What happened?” Tatiana was getting real sick of this game of twenty questions.

“He felt his mother die.” Owen answers softy.

“Oh shit.” Tatiana mutters.

“He was lucky to be alive.” Owen sighs “Most Empaths whose mental barriers break don’t live to see twenty-five.”

“Why?” Tatiana felt sick.

“Some become addicts to try and numb their senses, some commit suicide, but most die of medical issues related to the constant stress their under.” Owen was staring at his computer.

“That’s horrible.” Tatiana murmurs.

Owen nods mutely.

“Did he ever tell you what it felt like?” Tatiana asks.

“What?” Owen looks up to face her.

“What her death felt like?” She returns.

“I don’t think I can really convey it like he could.” Owen sighs and Tatiana feels bad for asking “But he can tell you.”

Tatiana gave Owen a look of please explain.

“I record all my interviews that involve how trauma effects Empaths, it’s all research for a paper I’m writing.” Owen explains “I can show it to you if you want.”

Tatiana nods. As another cat lands on the couch. Unlike the others it’s sleek and curls against Owen. Owen scratches the back of the cat’s neck without looking up from the laptop.

After a few clicks Owen turns the laptop to face her. The video shows Curt in a simple blue t-shirt and a navy flannel and he had large bags under his eyes. He was in the same living room as she currently sat. Owen presses play.

“You don’t half to do this.” Video Owen reminds from off camera.

“I know.” Video Curt sighs and pauses for a moment before speaking “I was five. I don’t remember what I had been doing all I remember is someone knocked on the front door. My mom didn’t even check who it was she just led me into her bedroom and told me that no matter what I had to quiet. She gave me one last hug and told me she loved me before she locked me in the closet. I could feel her fear. And she was so scared.”

Tatiana watched as Video Curt took a long drink from a glass of whisky. “The front door burst open. And a man walked in. He started screaming at my mom about money and my dad and my dad owing money. But my mom didn’t have any money and my dad wasn’t going to pay so he slammed her against the closet door and screamed louder. I had to put my hand on my mouth to make sure I didn’t make a noise. My mom was terrified.”

“Curt?” Video Owen murmured “You ok.”

Video Curt gives his partner a shaky nod “And The man he... he stabbed her. And I felt it. And it just it felt like nothingness. Her fear was gone, but so was she. There was just nothing. No feeling. No fear. No anger. No pain. Just emptiness. Just blankness. Void. And it’s not even a color. It’s just nothing. No senses. No light. Nothing.”

Video Curt was crying. His breath was unsteady. “We can stop.” Video Owen tells him.

“If I don’t finish this now I never will.” Video Curt wiped his tears on his flannel.

Video Owen sighed but doesn’t say anything. Video Curt took another long drink from his glass.

“After that there was a dull thud, as her body hit the floor.” Video Curt murmured “I don’t remember how long it was before the blood started to seep under the door.”

She glances at Owen. Owen’s jaw is clenched. She can’t tell if it was the pain of hearing Curt in so much pain or if it was just because it was Curt, his partner, who could be gone, dead, out of his life forever.

“But the blood seeped under the door. And I sat there. Hand on my mouth. In the dark. Alone. Hearing my mother’s murderer trashing the house. It felt like hours.” Video Curt wiped his eyes again “Then the police showed up. They arrested the guy but I couldn’t move the door. They walked into the bedroom but I couldn’t bring myself to make noise. The neighbors came in. The police were ushering them out when one said ‘where’s the boy?’ The officer demanded to know what she had been talking about. She told them that I existed, that I was somewhere. I finally could bring myself to slam my hand on the closet door.”

Tatiana could feel her stomach turn. She pet the fluffy white cat laying between her and Owen behind the ears. In an attempt to ground herself.

“They eventually got me out.” Video Curt’s voice was hallow “I saw her body. It was so bloody. You couldn’t look around the room without being met without seeing the blood. It was on everything.”

Video Curt broke at that. His body was wracked with sobs. The tears fell more freely from his eyes. Video Owen rushed to Curt’s side. And the video cut out.

The two of them sat in silence until finally Owen clears his throat “It’s getting late Detective, we can talk tomorrow.”

Tatiana nods as she stands “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Taglist: @robertstanion @gone-to-oregone @haniawritesthings @cracks-open-cold-one @agent-megagirl @purplegori @showstoppingnumbrr @imtooaromanticforthis @declansdumb

#empath au #spies are forever #tatiana slozhno #owen carvour #agent curt mega #curtwen

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lex-ically-batman · 6 years ago

Text

Forever. (A Spies are Forever fic)

There’s a soft patter of rain on the window and a fire crackling in the fireplace. Curt Mega shifts slightly on the couch, trying not wake Owen, who was snoring softly on his lap. Owen’s small London flat still smelled like the pasta they’d made more dinner, and the firelight softened the edges of Owen’s face.

Curt took another sip of his wine and closed his book; it was just getting interesting, but it was hard to hold a book with someone sleeping in your lap, and his arms were beginning to tire.

A far-off grumble of thunder and a small flash of lightning outside were all that was left of the major storm that had cut the power an hour ago and forced Owen to fight with the fireplace until it produced a spark. But only a spark—Curt had to take over to make the fire catch.

Curt sighed in contentment, bringing his right hand down to rest in Owen’s hair. The silver band on his left hand glinted as he examined it. Owen had given it to him earlier in the evening.

<i>“We can’t make it official, but I still want to make it...technical.” Owen had said, then grunted in frustration and ran his fingers through his hair. “Does that make any sense?”

“It makes perfect sense, love.”

“I love you.” Owen said. “We’re forever.”

Curt smiled, and slipped the ring on. “Forever.”</i>

Now, their matching silver bands clinked softly as Curt rest his hand over Owen’s on his chest and listened to him breath. He had begun to comb his fingers gently through his lover’s hair when Owen stirred.

“Did I fall asleep?” Owen mumbled, looking around the room.

Curt laughed. “Yeah for about 30 minutes.”

“Oh...shoot. Sorry about that.” He swung his long legs over the edge of the couch and sat up. “It’s your last night in London and I fell asleep.”

“It’s fine, Owen. You’re cute when you sleep.”

Owen rolled his eyes. “Don’t be cheesy.” He pushed Curt lightly, then paused. “Do you have to go back to the US tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Cynthia has a mission for me stateside, and I still have to file my report on the mission we just wrapped up in Scotland. I’m lucky I was even able to convince her that our follow up would take a week, and that I had to stay in London to do it. But, vacation’s over now. Time to be a spy again.” Curt grinned.

“I guess.” Own sighed. “It is the reason I fell in love with you in the first place.” He leaned forward to kiss Curt—

A loud bang of thunder ripped Curt from sleep and he watched his room light up blue and spin as lightning flashed and Curt tumbled to the floor next to his bed.

“Owen?” He yelled, scrambling to his knees and looking at the bed. It was empty. He launched to his feet. “OWEN?!” He yelled.

Silence answered him. Then, the quiet whisper of a memory— “That secret died the night you left me for dead.” Then, lightning flashed across the empty room, illuminating the memory of Curt’s gun discharging and Owen’s head snapping back.

Another clap of thunder knocked him back to his knees, and he knotted the bedsheets in his fists, the metal of his silver band cutting into his finger as he began to cry. Curt burried his face in the sheets that once used to smell like his love, but now only smell like detergent. He let out a strangled cry and punched his fist into the mattress. It felt good, so he punched it again. And again. Until his arms felt sore and he was breathing hard. Then, he slumped down to sit next to the bed.

“We were supposed to be forever.” He whispered. “Owen, I’m so sorry.”

There’s a soft patter of rain on the window and an emptyness crackling in the air. Curt Mega shifts slightly on the floor, trying not to lose the memory of Owen, who was slipping slowly from his grasp.

#aaaand just like im back on my bullshit.#joey richter #curt mega #owen carvour #spies are forever #saf #tin can bros #tin can brothers #agent curt mega

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sonnetthebard · 3 years ago

Note

Owen doesn't really like horror movies and he gets paranoid pretty easily because of them. He hates that it happens and never tells anyone about it, he thinks its embarrassing for someone like him to be set off by something as simple as a movie. Curt also didn't know, until he proposed watching a horror movie one night. Owen went along with it because he knew Curt wanted to watch it with him and tried his best to sit through it, but Curt picked up on how uncomfortable he was -S

I know this was supposed to be headcanons, but... I had to write this as a oneshot. I absolutely love it.

Genre: Fluff/ Romance/ Angst

Words: 3171

TL;DR: Owen is not a fan of horror movies.

TW: Anxiety/ Triggering, brief mention of violence, panic attack, minor implied ptsd.

"Darling, I'm home!" Owen called into his shared hotel room teasingly.

"What, you're done scoping out the venue already?" Curt smirked, making his way out of his room, already dressed down to just a dress shirt (with a few buttons undone) and dress pants.

Owen smirked at that. Evidently Curt had decided his work for the day was over. They were in the primary stages of a small mission- one that should be simple. Intercept the passing of information from the French to the Russians- no matter the cost. If they had to kill someone, so be it. It may be an easy mission, but it was a crucial one. It was set to happen at the ballroom in one of the biggest estates in London during a gala hosted by its owners- set to happen in two days. The owners weren’t royalty, but they were rich- which probably made them more powerful than royalty either way. The event was going to be massive. Royalty and dignitaries from all around the world would be there- and, of course, the informants they were there to stop. If they didn't intercept this information... well, let's just say the Soviets would have a rather large military advantage. And that wasn't something anyone wanted.

Earlier in the day, Curt and Owen had gone out and met the family hosting the gala- who were in full support of their work. They’d even offered to be so good as to give them a discreet signal when their marks arrived. Of course Owen had turned that down because, even with good intentions, the utilization of untrained assets was always a risk. Once they were done with that meeting, Curt and Owen had done some genuine espionage. They were lucky. Their informant had told them when and where their marks would be in preparation for the gala. So they'd alternated locations to watch their opponents. That way no one got suspicious seeing the same two people watching them everywhere they went. Then Owen, being the keener that he was, had gone to the ballroom and scoped it out. He always loved that part of planning. Plus, the house was practically a castle, and it was old. Owen just wanted to see it. It was a marvel of architecture. But it was at least a productive visit. He had a good sense of the place.

Now, though... Now Owen was exhausted. He'd had a big day preparing for not only his physical game but his mental one. So he was more than happy to be back with the man he loved. And he really did love Curt, in spite of his flaws. Owen was well aware of those. He would have to have been dull not to take them into account when preparing for their romantic relationship. Owen knew he was the more fit spy. He knew Curt could be a bit... careless at best, reckless at worst. And boy, did Curt’s ego ever get the better of him sometimes. But Curt was one of the most affectionate people Owen had ever met. His heart was massive, and he was as loyal as a dog. That was more than enough for Owen. They would follow each other to the ends of the earth. Owen may not have the smartest lover in the world, but... he had never felt more loved by one person. Not even his own parents.

"Already? Love, I was there for nearly three hours." Owen chuckled softly.

"You must be exhausted." Curt rolled his eyes playfully.

"As a matter of fact I am!" Owen scoffed, smirking and setting his jacket on the rack. Curt walked over to him, wrapping his arms over his shoulders and kissing him gently. Owen hummed into it, snaking his arms around Curt's waist. "What are you up to, Mega? Trying to breathe some life back into me?"

"No... I just missed you." Curt blushed lightly, still smirking and trying to play this off as cool as he could. "Am I not allowed to kiss my favourite partner after a long day of work?"

"Oh, you're more than welcome to..." Owen winked, giving him another gentle peck. He rested his forehead on Curt's, sighing. "I would say you could kiss me any time you’d like, but... well... we both know the world isn't quite ready for that."

"I know." Curt sighed. "One day..."

"We can only hope." Owen agreed. He gave Curt one more small peck of reassurance before, pulling away, walking into their room. "So what have we got for plans tonight? I was thinking maybe we could grab a bite at the fish and chips stand down the street. It's quite good. Then... maybe we could go to the cinema?"

"Actually... I was thinking maybe we could stay here." Curt bit his lip. "We've got a television here, and... they're showing Creature From The Black Lagoon on one of the channels we pick up. I missed it in the theatres while we were in Germany, and I've been hoping to see it for a few years now. It's a horror movie, and I've heard the special effects in it are great! We could watch it together!"

"Oh..." Owen bit his lip, breath hitching a bit at that.

Now... there was a bit of a dilemma. Owen came off as very suave, very tough, and impenetrable but... he had a bit of a problem with horror films. That, and films surrounding espionage. He didn't know what it was about the visual medium of storytelling that was becoming so popular, but... it affected him deeply. It was as though it set off something deep inside him, and brought up all his own fears. Even if they weren’t the fears discussed in the movie. As tacky as the movies were with their corny monsters and questionable acting they sparked his anxietes. Even worse to Owen was the irrational paranoia that came with it. The fear of something that didn't even exist. Even the things that very clearly could *never* exist. Like Dracula. Still, if Curt wanted to watch one with him, he would do his best to sit through it. Maybe he could focus his attentions on Curt and not the movie. Or maybe this movie wouldn’t get to him so badly.

"Oh what?" Curt checked, the smallest trace of concern riddling his features.

"It's nothing." Owen chuckled, trying to mask his lie. He didn't want Curt worrying about him for something so trivial. "I would love to. What are we doing for supper though?"

“I didn’t think that through.” Curt admitted. “We, um... well, we’ve got half an hour before the movie starts. Maybe we could grab fish and chips and eat it here while we watch?”

“Sure thing, love.” Owen sighed. “You want me to go and get it, then?”

“That works for me.” Curt nodded.

“And do you want me to get some crisps for later in case you get a bit peckish?” Owen checked.

“Can a get a translation of that?” Curt teased. He knew most of what Owen meant, he just loved bothering him and he knew how much his boyfriend hated Americanisms.

“Do I really have to?” Owen groaned. Curt just raised his brows in expectation. “Fine. You’re lucky I love you... Do you want me to get you some ‘potato chips’ for later in case you get the ‘munchies’?”

“I would love some potato chips.” Curt smirked triumphantly.

“‘Potato chips’...” Owen grumbled, grabbing his jacket again. “Bloody Americans butchering our language...”

“Love you too!” Curt called out the door teasingly as Owen left.

The fish and chips place wasn’t far down the street. It was one Owen knew well- his parents had even taken him there as a child. He remembered those days... Things were simpler. Not nearly as complicated as his life had become. But that wasn’t why Owen was so eager to get out of the hotel room. No, Owen wanted the space alone to brace himself and prepare himself for this movie. Because he’d always been strong for Curt. He didn’t want Curt seeing him weak. So he just needed a bit of fresh air. That’s also why he’d volunteered to get the crisps (no matter what Curt wanted to call them). Extra time to steel himself. He took his time, but even then he only spent twenty minutes out of the house. Still... it was better than having had no time at all to prepare. He took deep breaths, making his way back to the hotel room.

“Alright, darling. I have the food.” Owen called him, taking his shoes off and walking into the hotel. He set the food down on the coffee table. Curt walked out, dress shirt completely gone now. In it’s place, a white tank top. He was in denim jeans now, likely so that he didn’t ruin his dress pants. Owen smirked. “I thought we were supposed to be watching a movie, love...”

“We are.” Curt furrowed his brows, confused. He sat down on the couch, taking one of the meals for himself. Owen shrugged his jacket off, hanging it back up. He then joined Curt on the couch, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Well... you’re very distracting...” Owen hummed. Curt blushed.

“I can put my shirt back on...” Curt mumbled.

“No, darling. Don’t do that.” Owen sighed contentedly, taking the meal Curt hadn’t taken and setting it in front of himself. Curt had taken out his multi-purpose hunting tool and a pocket knife to eat with, but Owen stopped him. He pulled out the provided cutlery. “Here, darling. We can eat like civilized people”

“Right.” Curt flushed again.

“You’re adorable when you’re all worked up.” Owen chuckled.

“You’re a bully, you know that?” Curt grumbled, getting up and walking over to their in-room television. They were lucky. Not many hotels had them, but... this one did. Their superiors didn’t mind splurging a little on their accomodations, because it usually meant they were better rested for their job.

“I’m not a bully...” Owen chuckled, his heartrate picking up again at even the thought of what he was about to watch. “I’m just a tease, doll.”

“So you admit it?” Curt smirked triumphantly, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the channel.

“Only this once.” Owen rolled his eyes playfully.

“I think I... there we go!” Curt beamed as the television crackled onto the right station. The scoring to a typical horror movie started. Owen gulped, already not liking this. Curt seemed to pick up on that. “You okay?”

“Absolutely fine.” Owen lied. Curt sighed, coming back and sitting down.

Both men sat in silence, eating and watching the movie. Owen tried to focus on his food, blocking out the movie and his surroundings. But... that was unfortunately very hard to do. Especially when Curt was so invested. The man was leaning as far forward onto his knees as he possibly could. He thought Curt might have said something about Owen being right about the fish and chips, but Owen didn’t really hear it. He was caught in his head, in a way. And in many other ways, he was totally and uterly absorbed in the movie, trapped without consent the the saga being recounted on the screen. He didn’t even notice when he finished his food, caught up in everything.

And then... then came the moment Owen was dreading. The one that had his palms sweating and his body tense the entire night. Even with all that awful anticipation it caught him completely by surprise. Just as it was meant to. For some people, that was the thrill of the game. To him, it wasn’t. To him, it was not just truly terrifying, but also... humiliating. Totally and utterly humiliating. Especially in front of his Curt. Curt, who thought he was this suave, impenetrable rock. Curt, whom he was the foundation. Curt got to watch him cower like a child. The moment of dread was, of course, the first jumpscare. And just as Owen had predicted, he had jumped right out of his seat, yelping. Curt saw him and... he started to laugh.

The world caved in for Owen. It was a mix of the genuine fear he’d experienced watching the movie, the fears that fear alone had resurface, and the humiliation. He felt in a way that he was disappointing Curt already. And the laughing... it rang in his ears even once Curt had finished. Because this time Curt wasn’t laughing with him- he was laughing at him. He tried to mask it, but he was far too caught up in his head to have any control over what his face did. He shook a little bit. He couldn’t even fear anything around him. He had tunnel vision, and everything sounded like it was underwater. Owen hated it. He knew then and there that trying to be tough had not been the right move. That he should have said no to Curt. But it was far too late for that realization to be any good.

At first, Curt had admittedly thought it was funny that Mr. Tough Guy Owen Carvour himself had fallen victim to the classic jumpscare. And he would be the first to admit he had laughed a long time- especially when he thought that for once he had been the one to fluster Owen and not the other way around. But then, when Owen neglected to come back with any snide remarks... When he didn’t tell Curt to shut up, or even chuckle along with him... That was when Curt knew that now was not the time to be laughing. That something was genuinely wrong. That was when he finally took the time to notice that his lover was shaking, and the fear that had been in his eyes when he jumped had not vanished- even though the protegonists were safe. Curt took Owen’s hand’s carefully. Owen twitched in what could be a flinch, but put up no fight. That was the final tip-off for Curt that sommething was very wrong. He got in front of Owen carefully.

“Hey... Hey, Owen. You’re okay.” Curt soothed. Owen seemed to snap a bit out of it- enough to see Curt in front of him and look him in the eyes. Curt suppressed his concern and put on a comforting smile for Owen. “That’s right, babe. Look at me. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

There was a moment of Owen just staring into Curt’s eyes and reminding himself that Curt had his back. That he was safe. Once he had calmed enough to speak, he took a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry.” Owen mumbled.

“No... no, don’t be sorry!” Curt shook his head, giving Owen’s hands a squeeze. Immediately as thought that had awakened something in him, Owen was squeezing back as if it were the only thing keeping him on the ground. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

“Yes I do.” Owen spat, almost as though the words were poison. Self hatred oozed from his tone. “I’ve been lying to you. I’m a coward.”

“You are not a coward...” Curt stated firmly.

“I bloody well near shit my pants at something I saw on the telly!” Owen pointed out, incredulous. “Something imaginary, on the other side of the screen where it could never harm me.”

“That’s what these movies are made to do, O.” Curt assured him.

“They’re meant to give people a quick fright.” Owen shook his head. “But... that terrified me. Genuinely scared me.”

“Well... we’ve got pasts.” Curt bit his lip. “We’ve seen stuff. We’ve been the victims of real jumpscares where we could have died. Maybe it reminds you of those. Maybe the lines blurred.”

“Curt, it wasn’t anything we’ve been through that scared me.” Owen softened, nearly whimpering, both scared and embarassed but also pleasing for Curt to listen. “It was that that creature was going to show up behind us and do the same, or... take you away. That poorly dressed, hokey monster that could not be any further from being real. I’m not just a coward. I’m a bloody idiot.”

“You’re not a coward, Owen. And you’re not an idiot. Everyone’s brain is built a bit differently.” Curt soothed him. “You want to protect me... just like I want to protect you.”

“From something that could never hurt us either way.” Owen pointed out.

“Sometimes that doesn’t matter to the mind.” Curt sighed. “I don’t know if this happens to you when you read all your books, but sometimes someone will tell me a story and I get so invested in it that I’ll feel like I’ve lived through it myself.”

“I know what you mean...” Owen nodded.

“Well... maybe this movie did the same thing for you.” Curt reasoned.

“I... suppose.” Owen blinked, realizing Curt made a lot of sense.

“Just like you feel things when you read... you’re feeling things watching this.” Curt sighed.

“Right...” Owen nodded, letting that sink in.

“You think you can take a few breaths with me, O?” Curt soothed. Owen nodded, following Curt through a few deep breaths until he had stopped shaking and his grip on Curt’s hands had lightened. Once Curt was satisfied, he got up and changed the channel. I Love Lucy was on. He smirked, sitting back down on the couch. For once, he was the one pulling Owen close to cuddle. “We’re going to watch this channel for the rest of the night, okay? I think it’s got some of the good family shows on it.”

“Are you sure?” Owen checked. “I can go lay down. I know you really wanted to watch this film.”

“Yeah, but... not as much as I want to spend time with my handsome British boyfriend.” Curt teased.

“I love you.” Owen sighed, resting his head on Curt’s chest.

“I know.” Curt winked playfully, running a hand through Curt’s hair. “Hey, if you’re ever uncomfortable with what I want to do... just tell me, okay? No judgement.”

“Alright.” Owen nodded.

And so they spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Eventually they did switch and Owen was back to holding Curt. He found immense comfort in that- and that Curt didn’t judge him. It was lovely to be totally and utterly enamoured with someone. And that was what he was with Curt- what he was certain they both were. He didn’t focus on the telly (though it did give him a few laughs- that Lucy was always getting into trouble). Instead, he focused on Curt’s hands running though his hair, or the little kisses he was being adornerd with. In other words, he chose to focus on how much he was loved. And that put him in an entirely better place. There was, at least, one thing they could take away from the whole fiasco: no more horror movie nights. They had enough horrors in their own life without needing to worry about anything on the tv.

#tw: swearing #tw: panic attack #tw: implied ptsd #tw: anxiety #tw: triggers #spies are forever #saf #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #agent owen carvour #joey richter #curtwen #gay #lgtbtq #oneshot #tin can bros #tcb #tin can bros fanfiction

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amazingmsme · 6 years ago

Text

Mission Gone Right

AN: I got a lot of feels over Spies Are Forever, so I wrote what I think would’ve happened if the mission hadn’t gone wrong. So, yeah here it is.

Owen couldn't fool Curt. How stupid did he think he was? Seriously, was a hat and a fake mustache the best he could do? And Russian really wasn't his best accent. But as soon as he saw his friend walk in with his very own dumb henchman, he knew he had to play along. It was like a game to them; they would always play the part of a villain while the other was caught only to reveal their true identity and bust out.

So he cracked jokes and one liners and flashed a smile here and there, even when Olog nearly crushed his balls. He wasn't going to lie, he did get a little nervous when he saw the metal bat so close to his crotch. He was relieved when it knocked against his chair and hit Olag between the legs instead of him, and he shook his head in mock sympathy.

Curt had never seen Owen so into a character ever since he had been strapped to a spinning wheel and the Englishman had been posing as an "evil magician" who was "practicing his aim" by throwing knives at him when he refused to answer his questions. Owen was seriously lucky that he was a good shot or else Curt would've killed him. Evil magician, Russian interrogator, Owen sure had a thing for cliché disguises. He bent down close to his face, and he could feel his hot breath on his shoulder. It smelled minty. Of course it did. He always had mints or gum on him, and he was thankful that he had chosen the former because he really didn't want to hear him smacking in his ear. Instead he heard him ask, "Where do you get off?" Oh he should know better than to use such wording...

He rattled off various places where the two of them had hooked up and felt him back up in shock. Curt liked this. He liked that he still had a sense of power even when tied to a chair. His smug smile was quickly replaced by a look of fear when he saw Owen pull out a long white feather and ran it over his neck. Damnit he was pulling out the big guns and if Curt kept up with his tough guy act who knows how long his friend will torture him for, so he easily gave in. But he still swiped the feather from his ears to his jaw, but finally backed off.

Finally Owen said the line that always indicates it's him before he tears off his disguise: "Personal history does have its benefits, Mega."

Curt rolled his eyes to the ceiling and watched as he shot both of Olag's kneecaps, sending him crumbling to the floor. In a swift motion, he rips off his mustache and hat, shaking out his hair. "Owen Carvour you limey bastard, I knew it was you all along. That accent sure could use some work though."

"Oh sod off, it fooled 20 Russian security officers and our dear friend Olag over here," he said with a smirk. After knocking him out and running and gunning their way through the building, Curt answered the call from his boss. Only to have Owen grab his wrist so that he could talk to her instead. He swore she liked him better, and he wasn't even part of their agency, but he couldn't blame her. He was very charming, even after letting a poor excuse of a bad guy "rough him up a bit."

And since the rocket shoes were a no go and the watch was boring, it was time to blow up the building. They were heading down the stairs and Curt just finished his healthy on the job snack and tossed the banana peel on the ground. At Owen's incredulous look, he explained, "What? The whole place is gonna be garbage in a few minutes anyway, who gives a shit?"

"Uh, I do because you just knocked off that safety rail, and that is a very bad place for a banana peel. They are slippery you know, it's not just in cartoons."

"Well do you see a trash can anywhere?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do." Curt didn't like that look in his eye, and punched him in the arm when he grabbed the peel and tossed it on his head. Owen laughed and turned around, and no sooner than he did he started mocking him behind his back, pretending to hold a teacup with his pinky up and silently repeating what he said, shifting his jaw to the right to match his crooked smile. Owen sensed something was up but when he looked back at Curt he seemed to be doing nothing.

"Y'know, I think you were exaggerating when you said that accent fooled 20 security guards. You sure you didn't mean two?" he teased with a smirk, jabbing him with his elbow. He shot him a glare, "No you twit, I know how to bloody count." Curt held his hands up defensively, "Hey all I'm saying is it needs a little work." They then reached the bottom of the stairs, setting the timer.

"Atta boy, three it is." He knew they were pushing their luck by setting the timer so low, leaving no room for error. Lucky for them they don't often have those, and he has to admit it's an exhilarating game they share. They both live for the thrill of the rush, the adrenaline coursing through their veins. They were about to leave when suddenly they were surrounded.

They froze like deer in the headlights, standing back to back, their hands in the air. Well, they've been in worse situations... The ground beneath their feet began to shake and their captors fell to the ground, but they were able to keep their footing. They needed to get out of there immediately or else they were gonna blow.

"That's our cue, love," Owen shouted and grabbed him by the wrist. They ran up the stairs and rounded the sharp turn, where Owen almost lost his footing. Curt grabbed his arm and pulled him close before continuing their daring escape. "Told you that would've been a bad place for a banana peel!"

Curt huffed out an irritated breath, "Yeah yeah, can we just get out of here and do the I told you so's outside when we're not about to die?"

"Sure thing love, I'll get right on that. Say, how much time do you suppose we have left to get out with our bodies intact?"

"I'd say about a minute and 15 seconds."

"Christ! Cutting it a bit close, aren't we Mega?"

"Which is why it'll feel even better when we make it out!"

"You better be right about this!"

"Relax, I'm always right."

"Oh get off your high horse, clearly that interrogation did nothing to humble you."

Curt found the exit and kicked down the door. They ran as fast as they could through the parking lot and turned around just in time to see the building explode. They let out triumphant cries, jumping into the air and high five-ing each other. They hugged one another in a tight embrace, relishing in the flames and shrapnel. Curt let out a sigh of relief, "That was close."

"I'll say." Owen turned to look at him and locked their gaze, reaching out to grip his shoulders tightly. "But there will be no beating this record. We barely made it out with time to spare, and I for one am quite pleased with this time. I mean three minutes, that's quick."

"Under three minutes," Curt corrected him.

"That's barely the length of a song," Owen mused.

"Cynthia's going to be very pleased I'll say and- oh no."

"What do you mean oh no?"

"The blueprints, I must've dropped them!"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Owen yelled in shock and anger. "We just nearly died and you're telling me that they're now destroyed because of your butterfingers?"

Curt tried his best to keep a straight face, but the upturned corners of his mouth gave him away and he couldn't help but to start laughing. He was doubled over as Owen placed his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek to keep his own smile under wraps. He wagged a finger at him, "You're luck I didn't punch you in the face."

"Oh no, you'll leave that to our dear friend Olag, won't you?"

"Don't be so sore about it, it was all in good fun. And you held your own very well I would say, it's always best to have practice. Besides, I made sure to grab the least competent person I could find."

Curt narrowed his eyes, studying his friend. "How did you know he was the least competent?"

"Because I saw him follow seven men through a push door and when he reached it he still tried to pull," Owen said with a laugh, and his partner couldn't help but join.

"No wonder you were the better interrogator. Even if your accent was bad."

"You're still hung up about that fucking accent?Next time I'll be sure to use my Cockney one instead since you're so critical."

"Hey, I'm sure anything else would be better than "real-rerearelreareally nice"," he said doing his best impression of his terrible accent, and even Owen had to chuckle. "In this business you need to be on your A game." He flashed him a grin and winked.

Owen scoffed, "Says the secret agent who caved to a little tickling." He smirked as Curt's face fell, "I only did because you were wasting time and Cynthia wants these blueprints ASAP." He started walking to where his car was but Owen just walked with him, even stepping in front of him and walking backwards so he could face him. He hoped the smug bastard would trip.

"You sure that's the only reason Mega?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Curt looked away, trying to hide his blush. Only when he looked down, he saw what Owen had in his hand and a nervous smile found its way onto his face and he held a hand up defensively. "Because personal history does have it's benefits." He reached out and Curt tried to duck away, but was a second too slow. He immediately burst into high pitched giggles, trying to swat his hand away.

"Now what was it you said earlier? That you're "deathly ticklish behind your neck and ears"? Because that's what I seem to remember. I wonder what good ol' Cynthia would say when she finds out the great Curt Mega surrendered to a feather."

He finally managed to wiggle free of his grasp and panted, "She will never find out, because I'll kill you if you tell her. I'd never hear the end of it! She'd kick my ass and fire me before I could even defend myself against your lies. 'Cause for some reason she believes just about anything you say."

"Not a lie because that's how it happened. And good to know about Cynthia. Totally not going to use that to my advantage. Say, you wouldn't mind if I left this with her would you?" he questioned, twirling the feather between his fingers.

Curt rolled his eyes, "As long as it's not in your hands I'm fine. And I was serious when I said she wanted these ASAP, because the longer you keep me the longer I'll get chewed out for how long I took," he emphasized.

"Don't worry, I'll use my new found knowledge to protect you from her lecture. I'm sure as soon as I say that you had to wait on me she won't be mad."

It turns out Owen was right. As always. And the next day when he was called into her office, he wondered why she seemed so... he wouldn't necessarily say happy but, amused. It wasn't until he tried to leave and he felt something light and fluffy brush over his neck did it all make sense. He whipped around to see a smiling Cynthia holding the white feather. She tilted her head to the side, feigning innocence. "Was there something else?" He knew from the teasing look in her eyes that she was never going to let him live this down. He was going to kill Owen.

#wish this was how it happened #curt mega #agent curt mega #owen carvour #saf #saf fic #spies are forever #spies are forever fic #saf tickle fic #spies are forever tickle fic #ticklish!curt #can't believe that's actually canon #we've been blessed

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gentlemen-of-lies · 3 years ago

Text

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 3

Making friends with a bald man on a bicycle

(Next chapter) (Chapter 2)

————

Curt had heard about Bletchley Park, not much to spark any sort of special interest, but he knew it held a significant role in the war, breaking German codes, and even developing brand new technology. So he was quite excited to see it in action.

Unfortunately, his expectations were dashed almost as soon as they arrived. According to Owen, while Bletchley was still part of the British Intelligence, it stopped its code breaking in 1946, after the war had ended. And was really only used now for training certain workers, such as teachers, or air traffic controllers. Andrew Hayes was one of the trainers, not a very a cool role in Curt’s opinion. Was he even part of MI6? Apparently he had used to be. Not a Bletchley worker, although his girlfriend had been, but a spy during the war, his German coming in handy. Now his German only came in handy if he so happened to train a German to be a teacher, which he never did. And Curt was now realising why Hayes was a suspect in the first place. MI6 had essentially dropped him as soon as the war had ended, keeping him on only while it was convenient for them.

They didn’t even enter the building, Owen said there was no need for Hayes to accidentally spot them, as it may blow their case. He said it was better to wait until they saw him leave and then keep an eye on him. Their viewing spot was on another bench, round the corner from the building’s main exit and entrance, a good area to observe the entire front driveway, but still keeping out of sight from those leaving and entering. Curt shuffled around in his seat.

“Stop fidgeting,” reprimanded Owen. Curt glared at him.

“I can’t help it, those clothes you gave me are too tight.” Curt had opened up the duffel back once he’d returned to his hostel last night, and had found a white collared shirt, and a brown jacket, much neater and cleaner than his own clothes.

“They look fine.”

“Doesn’t matter how they look, they feel like plastic.”

“When you’re undercover, it does matter how it looks, and your comfort means nothing. Get a hold of yourself, Mega. You’re the one who has to follow Hayes. If he catches me, he’ll know what’s happening immediately.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To make sure you’re following the right person.” Curt raised an eyebrow, annoyed at Owen’s clear conviction that Curt was useless as a spy. Well, he’d sure show Owen. He was determined to solve this case himself, and rub it in both Owen and Cynthia’s faces.

While they waited, Curt observed his immediate surroundings, seeing the green spaces and the gated entrances. He wasn’t one to ponder the past, or be sentimental in any way, but he couldn’t help but think about all that was achieved here during the war, and seeing how soon it had come crashing down. It went from breaking top secret codes, to teaching middle aged men how to land a plane. From the best mathematicians in the world, to people who simply needed a pay check. It certainly made him think about the unpredictability of his own job, how soon things change, how different one day is from the other. It wasn’t a thought he was particularly keen on entertaining, so he brushed it aside.

Besides, he had spotted a suspect. Not Hayes, but Lawson. Lawson was exiting the building from a different direction, out of sight from Owen. Curt followed the man with his eyes. What he really wanted to do was follow him properly, but Owen would never let him. So he tried to keep him in sight as long as possible, maybe work out where he was heading. It was impossible of course; he could have been heading anywhere. All he managed to mentally note down was that Lawson was cycling down a road joining from the other side of Bletchley.

“There’s Hayes,” alerted Owen. Curt pulled his eyes away from where Lawson had rounded a corner, and fixated them on their new target: Andrew Hayes. He was a rather short man, bespectacled, slightly balding. Didn’t look like much of a threat, if Curt was being honest, but then... those who didn’t look like a threat were usually the opposite. Or at least, they were in his experience.

Hayes placed a black briefcase into the front basket on his bicycle, and began to ride away. Owen nudged Curt to stand up.

“Quick, follow him. But don’t be too obvious.” Curt gave him a disbelieving look, about to say something, but Owen pointed firmly at the receding figure, and Curt had no choice but to jog to catch up with the man, slowing down as soon as he could in case he was spotted. How was he supposed to follow a man on a bike without running? Or at least speed walking, both of which would arouse suspicion. But luckily for him, Hayes seemed to be taking it easy, just a nice afternoon bike ride on the rare days of sunshine, so it wasn’t long before Curt could comfortably walk behind him, at a safe distant, and not lose sight of the man.

Curt was expecting Hayes to go straight home, so he wasn’t sure what his plan of action would be afterwards. He couldn’t exactly spy on him in his own home. Maybe with a bit more experience he could, but at the moment, he didn’t want to risk screwing anything up.

But thankfully, the man stopped at a café, parking his bicycle outside and as Curt watched, he went to the counter to order something, and sat down at one of the neighbouring tables. Even better, the café was practically full. Curt had a plan of action.

He waited a few minutes before entering the café himself, ordered a coffee from the girl behind the counter and went over to Hayes.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked, pointing to the chair opposite from where Hayes was sitting. Hayes looked a little bewildered at the imposition, but he gestured at the chair, signalling that it was free. Curt sat down.

“You’re an American?” Hayes asked.

“Yeah. Just arrived here a few days ago.”

“How are you liking it?”

“Weather’s not great, but the people are swell.” Actually the people either ignored him or “took the piss out of him”, a phrase he’d picked up from Bill the receptionist. But he certainly didn’t want to insult the country of the guy he was supposed to making friends with.

“That’s good to hear.” The waiter came over with Hayes’s coffee, along with a jam tart he’d also ordered. Hayes thanked the waiter, and turned back to Curt. “So how come you’re here anyway?” Curt couldn’t believe his luck: Hayes was a talker. Usually he had to work to get any information out of someone, especially a stranger.

“Visiting family. My mom’s side is British.” Wasn’t true of course. His mom’s side had never even left the state, let alone the country. “This is the first time I’ve been though, my job got me travelling...” Curt hoped Hayes would take the bait.

“What’s your job?” Bingo.

“Before the war I worked as a travel writer for a newspaper. I’m finally able to get back to it.”

“You’re lucky you got your job back. I lost mine, work as a teacher now.”

“What was your job before?”

“Oh, just a government position. Nothing too important.” Curt’s coffee finally arrived, and he took a sip of it before continuing. He had to keep Hayes talking, long enough for them to strike up a proper rapport.

“How come you lost it then?” Hayes didn’t respond right away. He took a bite out of his tart.

“Not sure, if I’m honest. The war turned everything on its head.”

“Did you fight in it?”

“No, I still kept my position. Helped the effort of course, but I wasn’t a soldier. What about you?”

“Sure, I fought in it.” Curt hadn’t stepped foot on the battlefield, but Hayes didn’t need to know that. Frankly, it was a good opportunity to make himself look cool. An opportunity he had no intention of letting go. “Of course, our soldiers did a lot of the clean up, but I fought in a few battles.”

“Well, that’s awfully brave of you.”

“Why thank you, sir.” Curt noticed his American accent becoming... extra American. It was a tip he’d soon picked up for himself. The more American you sounded, the more people were intrigued. Especially the ladies.

Curt was about to continue, but all of a sudden, he spotted someone outside. By some pure trick of fate, Lawson was wandering down the street, wheeling his bike beside him. The bike seemed to have a puncture, an observation confirmed by Lawson heading into a bike shop that stood just across from the café. This was Curt’s chance.

He thought of Owen. Owen would be pissed. But what did he care? He didn’t even like Owen. And besides, he was starting to get suspicious- not just of Lawson- but from Owen himself. Why was Owen so adamant that Lawson wasn’t a suspect? What sort of spy ruled out anyone just because of a gut feeling? Curt had a duty to follow Lawson. Owen couldn’t get pissed at him for doing his duty.

“I’m going to have to say good day to you, sir,” Curt said to Hayes, tipping an imaginary hat for added effect. “’Fraid I must get going, gotta deadline to meet. But it was nice meeting you.”

“It was nice meeting you too.”

“You here often? I wouldn’t mind catching up now and again before I head back to the States.” Curt thought he might as well do something he was ordered to do. No point in losing a connection to one of the suspects.

“Um, yes, I come here after work every day.”

“Well then, I hope to see you again.”

“And you. You can tell me all about America. Fascinating place, I’ve heard.”

“It sure is, and I’d be happy to talk to you about it.” He tried to wrap the conversation up as soon as he could, not wanting to lose sight of Lawson. He didn’t know how long he’d be in that shop for. Should he enter the shop? Or simply hang back, follow him when he had exited onto the street?

“Are you alright?” Asked Hayes, suddenly. Shit. Curt’s mind had wandered off and he’d forgotten to continue speaking.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll be going then.” Hayes nodded in acknowledgement, probably getting sick of him by now, which wasn’t what he had intended. Curt turned around, handed a five pound note to the lady at the counter, tipped the waiter, and left the shop. The little bell by the door tinkling as he did so.

He didn’t want Hayes to spot him hanging around, so he ducked into the nearest alleyway, still on the same side of the street as the café, waiting for Lawson to come out. He had to wait some time, checking his watch every so often, tapping his feet impatiently. When Lawson did make an appearance, what was he going to do about it? Strike up a conversation? Follow him home. Perhaps he hadn’t thought this through so well.

But he didn’t have time for a self-evaluation, as at that moment, the door of the bike shop opened and Lawson stepped out onto the pavement. This was it.

There was no opportunity to bump into him, start up a friendly interaction. Curt had no choice but to simply stray behind him, his head bent low, walking on the opposite side of the street. Lawson didn’t have his bike with him, so it was a little harder to stay out of sight. He wanted to at least find out where Lawson lived. Even if he didn’t yet make any sort of move, he could always return at a later date with a proper plan in mind, and perhaps even convince Owen to let him trail the guy.

The walk wasn’t too long. Lawson lived down a road lined with flats, his flat being in one of the first buildings coming into the street. Curt couldn’t do much else except note down the street name and the building number, but after a few minutes, when Lawson was safely inside, Curt walked up the front steps, hoping to find one of those signs, markers, whatever they were called, that had the surnames and flat number of each resident.

Indeed, the building did have said sign. But weirdly- suspiciously- Lawson wasn’t listed. Only by process of elimination could Curt work out that Lawson lived in flat 2B. It was the only flat not listed. Good piece of information, Mega. You’re doing well.

He could easily trail Hayes and Lawson without Owen finding out about the latter.

Curt smiled to himself. He’d solve this case, no doubt about it.

#spies are forever #spies are forever prequel #spies are forever fanfiction #curt mega x owen carvour #tin can bros #gentlemen of lies #agent curt mega #owen carvour #starkid

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