Chapter Text
It had all started in that stifling little room that smelled too strongly of antiseptic, deep in the agency's private hospital.
Well, in honesty, the catalyst had been slightly before that. The moment he had dropped that stupid banana peel on the floor of that Russian compound. The one that Owen slipped on, dropping over the broken railing onto the stone floor below.
Curt remembers in the vaguest sense practically vaulting down the stairs, and picking up his partner. He vividly remembers the horrible pained sounds leaving Owen’s mouth as Curt ran with him. He remembers the sound and heat of the explosion as they just barely got out in time.
He had taken Owen onto the helicopter sent for him by Cynthia even though Owen was technically supposed to wait for his own. Owen was out cold through the helicopter ride and the subsequent plane ride. He was rushed to the medical facility as soon as they touched ground, which Curt appreciated. He wanted so desperately to go with him, stay by his side until he woke up. Preferably holding his hand. But that would be considered odd for just work partners. Besides, he had to give a mission report to Cynthia.
That had gone as well as expected.
Calling Cynthia pissed would be calling the ocean just some water, calling rocket shoes just kinda cool, calling sex with Owen just good. In short, a severe understatement. If looks could kill Curt wouldn’t just be six feet under, he’d be in the Earth’s core.
He had been chewed out by his boss before but this was on a whole new level. Not that he didn't think he deserved it. He'd made a stupid mistake and his partner (not to mention the love of his life) had nearly died for it. He deserved this and more. But right now all he could focus on was Owen, he had to see him.
Which is why he headed for the medical center the moment Cynthia had told him to get out of her sight.
Unfortunately this had been a case of out of the frying pan, into the fire.
When Owen woke up his first thought was of Curt.
The last thing he remembered was seeing the bright flames of the explosion over Curt’s shoulder. Then nothing. Until now. His mouth tasted dry and stale. He smelled antiseptic and latex. He could feel that he was wearing one of those horrid hospital gowns. He could hear the beeping of monitors. And when he opened his eyes he expected to see his love.
Except Curt wasn’t there. This puzzled Owen. His partner was always there for him after an injury. Where else would he be?
Then it suddenly came flooding back to him. The mission. The fall.
Curt.
The banana peel, Owen had told him to pick it up damn it. The blast. The timer was set short. Owen knew deep down that he had only encouraged Curt to play games with the timer but his usually level and rational mind was being overtaken by anger and fear.
He could have died. He almost did. Curt could have died. All over stupidly preventable mistakes. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment only for them to shoot back open as vivid images of both him and Curt lying bloody and broken on the floor as flames steadily creeped toward them danced behind his eyelids.
He felt tears building up in his eyes and blinked them away. He tried to steady his breathing. Focus on the here and now. He winced as the physical pain he had been distracted from was now felt full force, but this was good. Physical pain was better than the messy tornado of emotions racking his body.
If there is a god they must really love fucking with Owen because at the very moment that he thinks that the root cause of all those emotions walks into the room.
Curt sits hesitantly in the chair by his bed, looking nervous. He expects Curt to start talking. To apologize. To say it won’t happen again. Owen needs to hear him promise it won’t happen again. He feels like he won’t be able to breathe until he does. But for once his boyfriend is silent. Seems to almost be waiting.
Owen cuts through the silence harshly. Reprimands Curt. Is about one step away from screaming at him. Through this Curt remains silent. Just sitting there. Taking it. It only makes Owen madder.
Deep down a small part of Owen is chastising him. He knows Curt doesn’t handle being shouted at the best. He knows he should take a deep breath. He knows he should talk to him calmly. He knows he should reach out and hold his hand or let Curt sit beside him. He knows he should reassure Curt that while he is upset he still adores him and is just scared for both of them.
Instead he is closed off. Distant. His voice is steadily rising. That small voice inside him is begging him to look at Curt. See the way he is practically hugging himself. Shaking just slightly. Clearly getting more and more upset the longer Owen yells. But that voice is squashed under the far louder one that is growling that his anger is righteous. That Curt deserves to have some sense shouted into him right now. That there will be time for affection and comfort later.
It was probably a good ten to fifteen minutes before Owen stopped shouting. Laid back down from where he had sat up. He refused to even look at Curt. He knew if he did he would break. Take it all back and cuddle him until he felt better. But he needed this to sink in for his partner before it was too late. So he stared resolutely at the ceiling. Waiting for Curt to respond. Say something. Anything.
Finally Curt seemed to find the will to speak. “I’m sorry Owen. It was all my fault. I should have been the one that fell.” Owen was ready to scream. Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he realize that would be even worse for Owen? Seeing the love of his life fall. Possibly die.
He meant to tell Curt that he’s wrong. That Curt shouldn’t have fallen. That neither of them should. That Owen just wants him to be more careful. Because he doesn’t want to ever lose him. He just wants his partner to understand that this can never happen again. He needs to be assured that it never will. Because the next time they might not be lucky enough to both survive. And that thought terrifies Owen to his core. Because he wants them both to stay alive for a very long time. To spy together. Retire together. Have a life together. Because he loves Curt more than anything.
That’s not what came out.
“FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WHY AM I EVEN WITH YOU? YOU’RE SO BLOODY STUPID, I CAN’T BELIEVE I BOTHER PUTTING UP WITH YOU!”
Owen realized about half a second after he said it that what he had just said was majorly wrong. That he had just lashed out and hit his boyfriend where he knew Curt was insecure. That he just threatened to leave him even though he knew deep down he never could. That half a second was all it took for Curt to run out in tears.
He knows he should get up and go after him. Apologize immediately. Assure him that he was just angry and he fucked up and said something he in no way actually meant. Tell him that Curt is the best thing in his life and Owen doesn’t just put up with him, he enjoys being with him.
Owen didn’t run after him. He tells himself it’s because his injuries were keeping him in bed.
He knows that’s not the real reason.
Cynthia held back a sympathetic wince as Curt walked into her office, he looked like utter shit.
He walked with tension in every muscle. There were dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. There wasn’t a hint of his usual passion or energy. No sign of the cocky but caring smile. The bright eyes. He looked tired. Dulled. Yet so on edge.
She glanced down hesitantly at the file on her desk. Maybe she should keep him on paperwork a bit longer. For once he’d actually requested paperwork duty. It had been a shock. Almost as shocking as the fact that completed paperwork was actually turned in each day. He ghosted in and out of the agency. Lacking any sort of life.
She debated this mission in her head for a moment. She had other agents who could easily take it on. Agents who were currently in a better emotional state. Maybe it would be best to give Curt more time. To let him heal more. She watched as he seemed to curl in on himself just a little as he sat down.
Or maybe a little familiar action is just what he needed.
Mind made up she began to brief her agent on the mission. It was a simple one. Four targets. threats to the national security of both the United States and the United Kingdom. Two agents would be sent on the mission. One from each country. She expected her counterpart was going to send Carvour in, another reason she hesitated to send Curt. But she supposed he had to face the other agent sometime. They worked too well together to be kept apart for long, despite their current personal issues. Issues she truly hoped they worked out, she didn’t like seeing Curt like this.
“Each agent will take out two targets. You will get pictures and files on yours by the end of the day. We have the location. We have a way in. This should be more than easy, even for you. Just, don’t fuck up like last time. Can you manage that?”
Cynthia felt a tinge of guilt as Curt flinched away before mumbling “Yes ma’am.” back at her. She was honestly just concerned. She had come so close to losing one of her best agents and best foreign agents over a very preventable mistake. However she knew her concern was not exactly conveyed well. She had never been one who even knew how to coddle.
She shouldn’t have to be worried about this one though. It was simple. In and out. No complications. Curt could do this mission in his sleep.
So why was it as he sullenly nodded his acceptance of the mission and walked out of her office her gut clenched with a sense of foreboding?
Owen was doing it again.
Looking up from his paperwork to that damn picture. He should just take it down. It is being distracting. But for some reason every time he would reach a hand up to take it down, he froze.
He huffed out a sigh and leaned back in his chair, giving in for a minute. He didn’t really need to look at the photo to see it. It was etched in his mind. Himself and Curt, side by side on a plane. Heading home from a long mission. The mission itself had dragged on and been frustrating but spending four solid months in a hotel room with Curt…….
He shook himself out of his reminiscing, refocusing on the sight in front of him. He had hesitated for a few days before putting the photo up on his desk. Other agents had pictures together up on their desks though. In training or after missions. So this wouldn’t be viewed as weird. And there was nothing romantic about the photo.
Curt had an arm wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him into the frame despite his resistance (he hadn’t been resisting very hard). He was smiling despite himself but his smile had nothing on his partner’s. Bright and wide and so happy. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief and joy.
He hadn’t seen him since...since that night. He hadn’t come to say goodbye. He hadn’t called since Owen got back to London. To be fair, Owen hadn’t called him either. And he was the one who had something he really needed to say. He had picked up the phone at least twice a day, but he always ended up putting it back down. He tells himself it is because this is not the sort of thing that can be said or solved over a phone call.
He knows that isn’t the real reason.
He finally looked away from the photograph, jerking his head down almost painfully as the beautiful bright eyes in the photo changed to the glassy devastated ones he’d seen the last time he’d spoken to his partner.
Before he could delve too deeply into that memory, as was happening more often than not lately, he heard his director's voice calling his name. “Agent Carvour, join me in my office if you would.” He nodded and stood, making the familiar trek to the head office as he tried to push aside his thoughts. Focus on business.
He sat straight up in the chair across from his director’s desk, alert and attentive. His director slid a file across the desk to him. “A new mission. Fairly simple.” Owen nodded and moved to pick up the file. Thinking to himself that maybe some real work is exactly what he needs right now. “We’re working with the Americans on this one.” Those words froze his thoughts in their tracks. Did that mean…
He opened the file and sure enough Agent Curt Mega was assigned to the case too as his American counterpart. Normally seeing that he and his love were being assigned to the same mission sent an intense rush of joy through his system that he had to struggle to keep behind a blank facade. At that moment all he felt was a quickly tightening vice of anxiety on his heart. What would he say to Curt? What would he do? Could he face this? Would Curt forgive him? Did he deserve forgiveness?
Words were coming out of his mouth before he even processed what he was about to say.
“With all due respect Sir, I don’t think it is a good idea for me to take this case. I am just barely fully healed from my injuries and still haven’t really gotten back into the swing of things so to speak. I think I should have another week of training and paperwork before going out into the field. I wouldn’t want an easily avoidable mistake to get me or my partner hurt.”
“If only he had the same courtesy for you, right?” His director said in a light, joking tone. Owen wanted to snap at him. To defend Curt. He knew Curt hadn’t meant to harm him. Would never intentionally put Owen in danger. He had known that from the moment it happened, deep down under all his anger. The man in front of him would throw him off a cliff if he thought it would benefit their country and they both knew it. Curt would rather die than so much as give Owen a papercut. Curt had saved his life countless times out in the field, at great risk to himself and even the mission at times. Yet his director had the gall to mock his boyfriend in front of Owen.
Owen wanted to rip into the man, but that man was his boss. And he could hardly rip into anyone for talking bad about Curt considering what he had said straight to Curt’s face not so long ago. So he kept silent. Gave a stiff and non-committal nod in response. Bit his tongue.
His director seemed to think for a moment. “There is nothing about this mission that requires your specific expertise or skills, I suppose. I’ll assign another agent. You’re free to go, Agent Carvour.” The man announced, dismissing him. “Thank you, Sir.” He acknowledged before taking his leave.
He tells himself he is not taking the mission because he isn’t sure he is healed enough quite yet and it is better for both of them if Curt is working with an agent at the top of their game.
He knows that isn’t the real reason.
Curt was anxious as he drove towards the agreed upon rendezvous point.
He knew Owen was supposed to be assigned to this case too. How would he react to seeing Curt again? Would he yell some more? Ignore Curt? Apologize? Would Curt be allowed to kiss him? To cuddle him? Or would Owen tell him that he meant what he said? Break things off for good? Curt doesn’t know what he will do if they really are over.
He supposed he was about to find out as he pulled up to the bar where he was meant to be meeting Owen.
Except when he walks in and looks toward the seat at the bar his partner is supposed to be sitting at he sees another man. A quick observation for a minute proved that this was not a random coincidence. The way the man held himself, subtly scanned the room, had one hand that never strayed far from where a weapon would be hidden, this was most certainly another agent.
Owen hadn’t come. Curt knew he was meant to be given this case. Why didn’t he come?
Curt supposed he was going to have to wait for another day to get answers to his questions.
Or maybe the fact that Owen wasn’t here was an answer in and of itself.
Agent Carson had been gone on the mission with Curt for less than a day when Owen had to admit to himself, he wished it was him there.
Every fiber of his being ached to be with Curt. Was screaming at him for turning down the chance to see him. To make things right. To hold him again. To kiss him and touch him and love him.
His flat had never felt more lonely and it was driving him insane.
He couldn’t even call Curt right now. It was too dangerous to call him on his watch while he was on mission and he didn’t know what hotel they were staying at or what room number.
He had taken to writing letters that he couldn’t actually send. Balling up the paper when he couldn’t get his feelings out in written words. The bin was overflowing with them by this point. But he kept going until he fell asleep at his desk, papers strewn all around him.
He woke up late the next morning, something he never did, Even with skipping breakfast and rushing to work he was still nearly an hour late. He went up to the director’s office immediately to apologize and couldn’t help overhearing a conversation that made him glad he was late or he wouldn’t have been in this spot at the right time. Owen wasn’t sure whether he believed in God or not but if there was a deity out there somewhere they must have been smiling down upon him right then.
His director was on the phone with Cynthia, discussing booking Curt a hotel room as he would have an overnight layover in London when he and Agent Carson returned from the mission before getting a flight home the next morning. Here was the opportunity Owen needed. It was too good to pass up.
“Please excuse me interrupting, Sir. I was coming up to give you my sincerest apologies for being late this morning and couldn’t help but overhear your discussion with Director Houston. If Agent Mega needs a place to stay in London for the night, he is welcome to stay with me. I wouldn’t mind at all and it would save you both having to arrange a room and transportation for him.”
His director gave him an appraising look before turning back to the phone. “Director Houston?” Owen heard what sounded like Cynthia taking a long drag of a cigarette before she responded. “That’s fine by me.” She said shortly, though her tone sounded oddly relieved. Owen wondered whether it was over saving agency money for the hotel or if she was aware they had been fighting and assumed this was a sign that was coming to an end.
“Well that’s settled then. I appreciate the apology Agent Carvour but considering this is the first time you have been late in your entire career with Mi-6, I think I can let it slide this once. Just don’t make a habit of it.” Owen nodded seriously in agreement. “Wouldn’t dream of it Sir. I’ll go get to work now. Nice talking to you Director Houston.” Cynthia made a noise that could have been an agreement or not, he wasn’t sure. He just accepted it as he took his leave, making sure to shut the door behind him.
He sat down at his desk and started working on a random file but his mind wasn’t really on his work today. This was perfect. He could apologize to Curt face to face and if his love could forgive him they would have a night alone to spend together. And if Curt couldn’t forgive him then it would just be one night. Curt could sleep in his guest room and Owen could stay out of his way and break down in tears as soon as Curt was gone the next morning.
He really hoped the former would be the case and not the latter so he went all out for his apology like the dramatic theater kid he truly was under all his special agent bravado. He wished he could cook for Curt but considering his cooking skills barely passed heating up the takeout he ordered that was a no go. Still he went out and bought Curt’s favorite foods. And the pastries he liked from the bakery down the road where they had their first date, Curt having a layover in London for a few hours. And a record that had his favorite song on it, the one that had been playing when they had their first kiss in Paris. And a record player for said record. And Curt’s favorite flowers. And he made sure his suit that Curt had always told him looked like pure divine sin on his body was washed and pressed.
Everything was perfect. This had to work. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.
He didn’t know what he would do if he lost Curt.
Today was the day.
Owen had been waiting ages for this moment. Or three days. Same thing really. But the hour was finally here. Curt and Agent Carson should be arriving any moment now. He was at his desk once again, but glancing towards the doors at least three times per minute.
His heart started to race every time it opened only to slow disappointedly when it wasn’t the person he was hoping for. Then it happened. The doors opened and in walked Agent Carson and his heart felt ready to explode with anticipation.
Except the doors closed behind him. And they didn’t open again. His racing heart clenched with confusion and worry. Agent Carson walked through the room, clearly heading in the direction of their director’s office. Owen couldn’t wait though. He had to know. He stopped Agent Carson as the man passed his desk.
“Agent Carson. Good to see you. Where is Agent Mega? I thought he was supposed to be accompanying you here today. To give the report.” The other agent seemed to freeze before he looked towards Owen with an expression of sympathy, pity, and sadness.
Owen’s racing heart suddenly stopped. He knew that look. He prayed he was wrong but he knew what that look meant in this job.
“I’m so sorry Agent Carvour. I know you and he worked together a lot and were friends. Agent Mega didn’t make it back from the mission.”