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“I don’t think I like the way you’re looking at me.”
Owen eyed his partner skeptically from the bed.
“What do you mean, honey?” Curt teased, practically bouncing on his heels, unable to hide the smile on his face.
“One hand behind your back like you think you’re clever.”
“I can only do it with the one!” he gestured slightly with his left arm, current bent at an angle and encased in a plaster cast. It mirrored the image in front of him, of Owen, bedridden, not by choice, but by the large cast over the fracture in his right leg rendering him essentially immobile, not for his lack of complaining.
Owen squinted at him, certain that Curt was up to something. He’d been with him for years now and could recognize those signs: the way his eyes lit up and his shoulders shifted when he tried to stifle a laugh. Though he knew that whatever Curt was plotting couldn’t be too much, as both of them were out of commission until their injuries healed, he couldn’t help but find the excitement contagious. A lopsided smile slowly grew across his face, despite himself.
“I had to look through all your drawers to find this.” Curt grinned.
“Since when did I give you permission to look through my personal belongings, Mega?” Owen questioned tauntingly, still smiling.
“I don’t think there’s anything you’ve got that I haven’t already seen.” Curt retorted, with a wink.
Owen felt himself blush faintly at the remark. Still, he tried to maintain the upper hand, as far as the conversation went. “Well if I already have it, that means it’s not flowers that you got me.” He tried to pout to emphasize his point, but already felt laughter bubbling up as Curt only grinned wider.
“Nah, those are coming in the mail.”
Owen wasn’t quite sure if he was kidding. But before he could even begin to ask, Curt interrupted him.
With a flourish, he pulled his dominant hand from behind his back, brandishing the permanent marker that rested between his fingers. He let Owen trail the pen with his eyes for a moment, as if letting him catch up to what was about to happen.
Owen raised an eyebrow. He was about to comment before Curt’s actions cut off his train of thought yet again.
The American spy raised the marker in his hand to his mouth and pried the cap off with his teeth. It was a gesture that Owen might have called “undignified” or would have at least said “You could have just given it to me, I have both hands free.” but his attention was currently zeroed in on Curt approaching the bed and climbing up with him.
Curt immediately angled himself so that he had access to Owen’s leg, more importantly, his cast, and without another word, signed his name. The letters came out wonky, his already less than stellar print made worse on the difficult surface, but he managed, shooting a quick almost mischievous look at Owen before he crossed his T and added a quick smiley face.
He pulled back, and Owen sat himself up a bit on his elbows to see the mark better. He tilted his head back and forth, examining and in fact admiring it.
“Cute.” he mumbled under his breath, though he wasn’t exactly sure if he was referring to the act itself or the man who’s performed it. Probably both, he relented, when he looked over to see Curt’s soft hazel eyes watching him with such affection, and the pride in his sweet smile.
Curt thrust the marker out to Owen, who took it in his left hand, before turning slightly where he sat so that his arm was held out to Owen. “Now do mine!”
Owen rolled his eyes, but complied nonetheless, letting out a light laugh as he scrawled his signature across the plaster. Owen’s handwriting was always neat, and his signature (what he’d in private call his “autograph”) was no different, intricate and cursive. It looked like script, calligraphy even, with hardly any effort.
Curt seemed satisfied with it, turning his arm over a little so that he could appreciate it. “Look at that.” he let out a small wolf whistle that made Owen giggle as he reached to take the pen back. He capped and tossed it aside, moving closer to Owen to properly snuggle himself into his arms. “I should have you do this again.”
“What, love, break my leg?” Owen joked. He wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about being confined. Although his annoyance was mitigated by Curt’s presence. He’d come for a mission that should have lasted only a few days and had stayed with him instead of blowing government money on an unneeded hotel room. Unfortunately, one slight mistake with timing, just a second off, sent rubble down sooner than expected, leaving both of them with nasty breaks in their limbs. They were given mandatory time off to recover, and Curt decided that he might as well just stay with Owen for the time, considering he wouldn’t be due back at work anyway.
He’d been to Owen’s place before, but this was the longest he’d ever stayed. It had gotten to a point that they were sharing clothes out of necessity. Curt liked the way Owen’s shirts felt, liked the way they smelled. Owen insisted it was the fabric softener, but Curt was certain that it was just the whole apartment carrying a lingering smell of his cologne.
And Owen liked the visual of Curt in his clothes, which let him see Curt in some different colors than he normally chose for himself, namely, at the moment, a deep shade of purple. Curt said he chose it because it covered up the bruises well. Whatever the reason, Owen wasn’t complaining, content to look at Curt’s softly tousled hair and gentle expression for the rest of his life.
“Put your name on me, I mean. Lets me show you off.” Curt nuzzled his head against Owen’s chest. “I’m a lucky guy.”
“Don’t show me off too much. You know how things are.” he pet Curt’s hair carefully.
“I knooow.” Curt whined. “But can’t I be a little proud?”
“Of course, you can.” Owen said, “I’m proud of you.”
“Why? I’m the reason you got hurt.” he frowned.
“No, you’re not.” Owen argued. “You need to stop blaming yourself.”
“I got distracted. It’s my fault.”
“You get distracted sometimes. I’d never hold that against you. We were both unfocused.” he rubbed along Curt’s arm comfortingly, “Frankly, I think we’ve both been working too hard. Maybe this reprieve is exactly what we need.”
“You might be right about that. The injuries suck, but we get time off, and time off together? It feels too good to be true. Makes all the pain worth it. There’s gotta be some angel looking out for us.” Curt let his eyes fall shut as he leaned into Owen’s touch.
“I know I have an angel looking after me.” Owen remarked.
Curt looked up at him. “You do?”
“Oh definitely.” Owen assured. “I have proof.”
“Proof?”
Owen nodded. “He just signed my cast.”
Curt just looked at him for a second, feeling himself absolute melt at the sight of Owen’s soft smile.
“Aw, babe.” he couldn’t help the blush spreading across his cheeks as he tucked his head into Owen’s chest.
Owen hugged him a little tighter and Curt hissed lightly. “Ah, careful of the arm, doll.”
“Right, sorry.” Owen shifted himself to make his position more comfortable for his partner.
Curt tipped his head back a bit to get a better view of Owen’s face. He reached up to brush a strand of hair out of his face.
“You have beautiful eyes you know.”
“Oh, I do?”
“Yeah. And you get these adorable little freckles in the summer. I can only see ‘em when I’m up close like this but, wow.” he drew his finger back down to press a light tap to the tip of Owen’s nose to punctuate his remark. “You’re gorgeous.”
Owen wasn’t worried about anything else in that moment, not the soreness in his leg, not the botched mission, the agencies, not anything. Nothing in the world was as important as Curt’s soft giggle, the way the sunlight from through the curtains made him seem to glow, the optimism he radiated, making the best of any circumstance. He felt a tinge of pride at the mark Curt had given him. It’d only last as long as the cast did, but it meant a lot to him. It was a sign of belonging, not of ownership, but belonging. Acceptance.
He felt comfortable. It was gratifying to feel how Curt trusted him, felt safe with him, loved him. His warm body pressed against his own. Their job wasn’t easy, was never easy. But the moments in-between, not running, not even moving, those were the best ones. Owen was always so careful with Curt in moments like this, so delicate, cautious even. He could be intense on the job, forward, demanding. But never with Curt. Every touch was done with awe, with care, as if one wrong move could dissipate the illusion, the dream that this surely was, because it all was too good to be true, more than he could possibly be deserving of.
He realized he’d been staring silently when Curt laughed airily again but couldn’t find the will to be embarrassed.
Instead, he opted for cupping Curt’s cheek, swiping his thumb in a gentle caress that Curt relaxed into.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.
Curt almost purred at the affection. “I like it when you ask.”
“Good.” Owen smiled. “I like asking.” He decided to lay on the affection a bit more heavily, bordering on begging with his overly sweet “Please, can I kiss you? Please, darling? Pretty please?”
“Shh!” Curt shoved at him lightly, overwhelmed by the attention, aware that his face had probably turned an even brighter shade of pink. “Stop it, stop it! Yes, you can kiss me.”
“Are you sure?” Owen teased.
“One hundred percent.” Curt reiterated seriously.
With that, Owen closed the distance between them, pressing their mouths together. He reveled in the feeling of Curt’s soft lips against his own. It felt right, it felt natural. It felt miraculous. Slow and sweet and wonderful. Curt moaned against him, appreciatively, fondly, and it was the best feeling. Owen was certain that Curt could feel the smile that spread just slightly on his lips; there was no way for him to hide his current happiness, and he’d never want to. Bliss, he understood, this was bliss.
When he finally pulled back, he met Curt’s eyes as they opened slowly, long lashes and tender expression. Owen giggled quietly. “You taste like chocolate.” he blurted.
“Mm.” Curt hummed. “I’ve been raiding your pantry.”
Owen laughed, pulling Curt closer with one arm, more mindful of his cast this time. “You do whatever you like. I’m just glad to have you here.”
“Glad to be here, sweetheart.” Curt said, before yawning.
Owen pet his hair once more. “Are you going to try and get some sleep, dear?”
“I think so.” Curt started, “If I’m not troubling you.”
“Of course you’re not. I love you.”
“Love you too.” Curt mumbled into his chest, shutting his eyes and nestling in.
He drifted off into sleep, with Owen’s arms around him protectively, fading from one dream into another.
Owen took one last glance at him before dozing off himself.
His partner looked cherubic as he slept, precious and lovable.
“My angel.” he whispered.
And for one beautiful moment, everything was alright.