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bow-of-aros · 22 days ago

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A Debt Unpaid

Summary:

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

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

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

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

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

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

“We have your partner.” Yeah, that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was…not exactly reassuring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just in case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Huh. “Anything?”

“Yes, you fucker!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he was glowing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But not once did he tell Owen to stop.

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

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

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

Nothing. “Suit yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

That’s when Curt went from cracked to shattered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#fanfic #tickle fic #tickling #fluff #spies are forever #agent curt mega #owen carvour #ticklish agent curt mega #wrecked his shit im so proud of myself #and of owen #good job owen #went kind of insane with this one #like 3k words insane #i love these silly gay spies #spies are forever tickle fic #when they get back curt flops on top of owen and passes out immediately #if you even care #FEATHER ORIGIN STORY LETS GO #no i didnt stay up until 1am to finish and post this what are you talking about

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