Work Text:
August 1975
Owen never believed that neither he nor Curt would make it to forty, particularly because of their careers as spies, they’d constantly put their lives on the line over and over again, never knowing which moment would be their last. But now, they’ve got a nice, warm, cosy cottage in the countryside, with plenty of land around them and room for when their friends come over and a fluffy dog, a golden retriever who pissed everywhere for the first six weeks and loves Owen more, even though it was Curt’s idea to get him, and the grumpiest cat known to man that only slightly tolerated Curt and Owen.
Owen felt a warm, furry presence curl up on his chest as he waited for Curt to bring him his obligatory birthday breakfast in bed.
“Good morning, love…” Owen opened his eyes to see Dr No, their grumpy cat asleep on his chest. He began to feel the cat purr on his chest.
Owen’s eyes widened, the cat had never purred on anyone ever before, often opting to hiss and claw at whoever came close.
“Happy-” Curt began to sing, a pile of pancakes on the tray in his hand.
“Shh… he’s actually purring on me.” Owen said softly.
“Really?” Curt gasped in excitement, putting the food down on the bedside table and feeling the cat purr contentedly. “I told you he secretly likes us.”
“You did.” Owen grinned.
Then Bond, their dog, came bounding in and jumped on their bed, trying to get their breakfast.
“Bond! Get down!” They shouted, and the dog settled next to Owen, and he stroked the dog’s head, everyone laughed.
“Happy fortieth, Owen.” Curt kissed Owen.
“Thank you, darling.”
November 1985.
Curt didn’t know what the hell he did to deserve this second chance with Owen, even twenty odd years later. He formed a habit of watching Owen sleep in the early hours of the morning, still disbelieving that he was real and here and present and his…
“Curt…” The half asleep Owen murmured, the soft, early morning light making the beginnings of grey in his dark hair glow.
“Yeah?” Curt murmured, a grin on his face.
“You’re staring again, darling…” He grinned, half asleep.
“You’re so peaceful when you sleep, babe.”
Curt had just turned fifty, and he couldn’t be happier, just him, Owen and their two fur children, Dr No and Bond.
“Do you want me to take the dog out?”
“Already done, I know you overdid your bad leg at my party yesterday, and you need your rest, mister.” Curt kissed Owen gently. “And besides, you’ll refuse to use the cane when you need to.”
“It makes me feel old, love.”
“We’re fifty, Owen.”
“True enough, but I don’t want to feel like an old man yet.” Owen opened his eyes.
June 1998.
Even though they were in their seventies, Curt and Owen still loved to travel everywhere, having taken the entire year of their fiftieth anniversary to go travelling and see the world.
Of course, they had travelled the globe in their careers as spies, but this was different. They could do all the touristy things they never could, see everything and actually experience the places they saw.
Owen was standing at the bow of the boat they had hired out for the day, staring out at the beautiful blue water surrounding them as the sun began to dip behind the waves, casting a warm golden glow on the rippling waves. His cane was hung on the railing, not needed for simply standing there, enjoying the life he had made for himself, with Curt.
Owen felt a pair of warm arms wrap around his waist and smelt the familiar scent of Curt’s cologne.
Owen turned slightly and gently kissed his husband’s cheek. “Hello, love.”
“Hey…” Curt smiled, reaching to grab Owen’s hand in his. “Who’d have thought we’d get all this? That we’d get to actually be together?”
“Do you think our younger selves would be jealous of what we have now?”
“In places,” Curt rested his chin on Owen’s shoulder. “I’m so glad I remembered you.”
“Likewise, darling.”
“Do you remember the last time we were in these waters?”
“That was in ‘50, if memory serves. That was the night I first realised I loved you. We were undercover as rich sons of land barons or whatnot and we had this really fancy yacht that we were staying on, and you had the fabulous idea of diving off the back of the boat and decided to pull me along for the ride… and in the middle of chewing you out for it, I blurted out the fact that I love you and you got so embarrassed you didn’t speak a word to me for the rest of the mission.” Owen laughed fondly at the old memory.
“I was so not embarrassed!” Curt protested, a slight whine to his voice.
“You were redder than the trunks you’re wearing now.” Owen pointed out playfully.
“That’s just an inanely British term for them.”
“You’re deflecting, love.”
“You started it.”
“I believe you did!” Owen scoffed in mock indignation. God, he loved being able to bicker with Curt like the old married couple they were, this is how it was always supposed to be, the pair of them, happiness and the future ahead of them, and the ghosts of the past gently laid to rest.
Owen had done tremendous amounts of emotional healing from the incident when Curt had forgotten all about him, and then once they were reunited and Curt remembered him, they forged their new life together, hand in hand.
It wasn’t easy to start with, as little arguments would swiftly turn the good days into bad as one of them would inevitably play the ‘left me to die and forgot me’ card or the ‘tortured and tried to kill me’ card and it would devolve into bitter, angry words. They were already tired of holding onto all this pain going back into it, once their engagement started, so it felt relatively easy to admit that and find productive solutions, unless they were feeling particularly stubborn that day.
These arguments were never held in true anger, both Curt and Owen understood that this was just residual issues that they needed to work through.
They married in secret in 1965, in front of Tatiana, Barb and Di alone, wanting to be able to call one another husband, even if there were no legal ties to one another, it was the emotional commitment that mattered most.
They watched the world change around them, as war was fought in Vietnam, new technology, like computers, were introduced, much to Owen and Barb’s delight, and the world crawled at a snail’s pace to accepting people like them.
They watched as the first stone was thrown and people began to take notice, saw young queer people who they had taken under their wings die of a disease that was wrongfully blamed on the whole community.
Then in 1991, when their town, Berkeley, officially created a registry allowing for two people to enter a ‘domestic partnership’ which allowed for them to have some rights akin to a proper, honest to goodness marriage, so when Owen needed to have another surgery on his bad leg, Curt could visit him, as an example, they were among the first to sign the documents.
The road they walk on will never be easy, never kind, but they promised one another with every breath and bone in their body that they will never walk it alone again, always together.
“Owen, look!” Curt pointed, seeming oddly wistful and childish despite his eightieth birthday creeping closer.. “A shooting star! Make a wish.”
“I don’t need to, we have all we need. Friends, family, a good life, each other…” Owen murmured, staring at the stars above them.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Curt echoed, gently winding a few strands of Owen’s silver hair around his fingers, perfectly content with his husband in his arms and a great life together being lived.