#maybe i’m just trying to believe EVERYTHING is curtwen

[rayneishere]

thinking about ofmd s2 but in the context of curtwen? but specifically these quotes?

“i love you.”

“you can’t say that to me.”

“i love everything about you, and you don’t have to say it back.”

“i wasn’t going to.”

like… yk! post-fall type conversation i think. it’ll forever be curtwen to me

[too-attached-to-fiction]

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.