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Finishing the mission early meant a free night, and a free night meant celebration. Curt had suggested they spend the night at the hotel bar, to which Owen reluctantly agreed.
“I’m not much for drinks, old boy, you know that.” he had objected.
“Lightweight.” Curt had teased.
And that was enough to get Owen to go along.
Curt enjoyed being social, liked the atmosphere of a place like this. Surrounded by people he’d never see again. Some might find it sad in a way, but Curt found that it took the pressure off of his interactions. As the more bubbly of the partnership, Curt found himself striking up conversations with nearly everyone in the vicinity. Chatting up the bartender about local hot spots and signature drinks, chatting up other patrons about where they were visiting from, and chatting up, in particular, one woman who seemed very eager to get to know Curt.
He complimented her hair, blonde ringlets that poured past her shoulders and stood out against the dark blue of her dress. She giggled and suggested that maybe Curt “would like to accompany her back to her room?”.
Curt politely declined, and Owen’s eyebrows shot up at the refusal. Owen had been awkwardly hunched over the one drink he’d been nursing all night, insistent that staying relatively sober was being prepared, and not paranoid. He had watched Curt mingle with the other guests, but kept to himself, preferring instead to simply monitor Curt’s activity out of the corner of his eye.
Curt made some kind of excuse about how it was “getting late” and how he really “should be off” before hastily throwing some cash down on the counter and making his exit, with Owen confusedly trailing behind him.
Once they were back at their shared room, Curt’s nerves seemed to fade slightly. He held the door for Owen, like the gentleman he imagined himself to be, and then followed his partner into the room. “Well that was fun!” he said cheerily, if awkwardly, while closing the door.
“Sure.” Owen replied, before pausing. He wasn’t sure if he should press, but his curiosity was getting the best of him yet again. “But, could I ask you a question? If it’s not too personal?”
“Shoot.”
“That woman at the bar, she was clearly interested in you.”
“Was she?” Curt looked down timidly.
“Seemed so to me.” Owen tilted his head, “Why didn’t you go with her? You’ve got the night to yourself, you know.”
“I know. She’s just…” Curt waved his hand as he tried to think of a good excuse, “not my type.” he finished.
“Not your type?” Owen repeated incredulously, “Curt, she was gorgeous .”
“I just, I mean-- I, uh, I prefer..” Curt stuttered, desperate for a believable cover, “...brunettes?” he finished, though it came out more as a question than a statement. He tried to give a reassuring smile, but what he produced was a wavering grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes.
“Brunettes. ” Owen deadpanned.
Curt nodded, too quickly to be perceived as the truth.
“Preferences for hair color aside, that was one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen in my life. The way I see it, the only way a woman like that wouldn’t be ‘your type’ is if you didn’t like women at all--”
He cut himself off as he saw Curt fidget tensely where he stood.
“Oh.” he said quietly.
Curt hoped to God that Owen hadn’t just come to the realization he thought he had, but the look on Owen’s face suggested differently. Before he could even begin to control himself, he blurted “Please don’t tell anyone!”
It came out so fast that the whole request sounded like one word.
“I won’t.” Owen replied simply.
Curt didn’t seem to hear him. “I’m good at my job, okay? This doesn’t impact my skills as a spy. I don’t want to lose this, please don’t say anything, please--” he began to beg.
“Curt. ” Owen said roughly, snapping him out of his spiral of distress. “I’m not going to tell anyone, alright? Your secret’s safe with me.”
Curt let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he started with a smile, “I know it’s wrong but --”
“Whoa.” Owen cut him off, holding up a hand.
Curt felt his anxiety creeping back to him. “What?”
“Curt, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Owen shook his head slightly, brow furrowing as though his statement was obvious.
“Look that’s nice of you to say, but I don’t need your pity.” Curt said, in an attempt to placate the other spy.
“It’s not pity, Curt, I mean it.” Owen took a step closer to him.
“It’s illegal.” Curt crossed his arms.
Owen shrugged. “So is most of what we do on the job.”
“It’s immoral.” Curt protested.
“So is most of what we do the job. ” Owen repeated seriously, taking another step closer.
“Owen, damn it, it’s obscene! I’m ashamed of it!” Curt shouted, frustration straining his voice.
“You shouldn’t have to be.” Owen spoke quietly, as though he were trying to calm a wild animal. He took yet another step closer, and then there was hardly any space between them.
Curt bristled a little at how close the two of them were. He faltered slightly but held his ground, furious that Owen wouldn’t just submit. What did he know about this? There’s no way he had the same feelings! No way he stayed up at night thinking about his partner and knowing that nothing could ever come of it! No, there was no way he understood. Curt felt rage bubbling up inside of him, and released it in an uncontrolled eruption.
“Owen, look, I don’t know what you’re trying to get at here, but I didn’t ask for it! I don’t need you to feel sorry for me just because you think I’m a poor little f--”
“Don’t. ” Owen’s face was scrunched, eyes closed, and wincing, almost as if he had a headache. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes and meeting Curt’s glare. “Don’t you say that word.”
Owen hated that word. Hated it since the first time it was thrown at him, along with a glass bottle that he still felt the sting of. He could feel his heart break with every argument Curt had made. He wasn’t about to hear that awful word out of Curt’s mouth.
Curt’s mouth. Now there’s a notion. Owen thought. Curt’s mouth and Curt’s lips, and, you know what? I’d do just about anything to make him shut up right now.
Curt opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t even get a syllable out before Owen took his face in his hands and crashed their lips together in a kiss. Curt’s eyes flew open in shock, but soon fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss. Owen’s hands found their way into Curt’s hair and in turn, Curt’s hands found their way around Owen’s waist. His dug his fingers into the fabric of Owen’s shirt, trying to get a better grip and pull him closer. It was pure desperation, too fast and too slow all at once. Too much, and Oh God, Curt thought, not enough.
After a few moments, Owen pulled away first, only out of need for air, and certainly not out of desire to break the kiss. The two of them stared at each other, hair messy, out of breath, hearts racing. Curt held eye contact with Owen, his pupils blown and his breath ragged, and with an expression on his face that seemed to express a cocktail of emotions: guilt and bewilderment, excitement and desire. He wasn’t sure exactly that he knew what he should be feeling. And then, as Curt started to ground himself in the moment, he tried to process what just happened to him.
Owen just kissed me. He thought, trying to make sense of it.
“You…” he started, but found that he didn’t know how to finish.
You’re like me? Or maybe: You feel that same way about me? Or even: You wanna do that again?
Owen felt a soft grin spread across his face as he watched Curt grapple with what had just occurred. He nodded, the answer unspoken but clear: Yes, to all.
Owen reached out and took hold of Curt’s hands, holding his hands so that they were level with his face. He pressed his lips gently to Curt’s knuckles before lowering his hands and maintaining eye contact with his partner once more. He looked at Curt with an intensity in his eyes that Curt wasn’t sure he’d ever seen before, from anyone. Curt was entranced, transfixed in the moment.
“Curt Mega,” Owen said, voice low and even, “there is nothing wrong with you.”
Curt’s exhaled a shaky breath, closing his eyes as he nodded slowly in acceptance. Overwhelmed with emotion, he felt hot tears slip out and start to roll down his cheeks and he collapsed into Owen’s chest. Owen immediately wrapped his arms around Curt’s body, surrounding him in his embrace. Curt sobbed lightly into his chest as Owen pet his head, whispering words of comfort to him.
“You’re alright. You have nothing to be ashamed of. There is nothing wrong with you.”
Eventually, Curt pulled away, attempting to steady his breathing. He wiped at his tears with the heels of his hands and looked up at Owen with still-watery eyes and a quivering smile.
Owen took the opportunity of their separation to try and fix his hair, sweeping some loose strands out of his face. A light airy laugh escaped his lips. “So, brunettes, huh?”
Curt, face still flushed, let out an involuntary giggle despite himself, his head falling against Owen’s chest once more. “Shut up.” he muttered quietly, still grinning.
Owen resumed running his fingers through Curt’s hair.
Curt nuzzled closer to him contentedly. He let out a sigh. “Nothing wrong with us?” he asked hesitantly, as though the words were dangerous to say aloud.
Owen tipped his chin down to press a kiss to the top of Curt’s head. “Not a thing.”