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Owen Carvour is a meticulous planner, he doesn’t like to leave things up to chance. He has a natural eye for detail and a knack for thinking quick on his feet if anything does go awry, it’s things like this that make him the best spy the MI6 has to offer.
What this means is that Owen is rarely ever caught and, if he is, it’s either because he specifically orchestrated it or he’s already crafted a contingency for this scenario that will allow him to escape as unscathed as possible.
Curt Mega, on the other hand, does not tend to think ahead. He’s more of a ‘crash in, guns blazing, trust your instincts and hope that everything works out' kind of guy. This only gets worse whenever he's on a mission with Owen because Owen's ready for anything, and he always gets Curt out of whatever scrap he manages to land himself in.
Which is exactly what’s happening now. That fucking wanker.
If he hadn’t been trained to keep quiet under any circumstances, Owen would’ve been dragging his feet as he made his way down the halls, doing a brief scan of each room he passed by.
It’s muscle memory at this point, saving Curt. Owen has it down to a nearly exact science which, if you stop to think about it for too long, is just plain upsetting.
Owen tries not to think about it.
The compound that contains the documents they were tasked with scanning isn’t very large, but it still takes a few minutes before the sound of an obnoxious, over-confident, and frankly exhausting voice reaches his ears.
Oh, and he could hear the interrogator as well.
He came to a stop outside the room where the unfortunate, soon-to-be-dead bloke was holding Curt. The cold wall bit into Owen’s back as he peered through the crack, trying to get a feel for the situation because, unlike someone, Owen liked to actually know what he was getting into.
To his relief, there was only one person, a young man who was fumbling his way through interrogation questions, much to Curt’s very loud amusement. Owen let out a deep sigh, he couldn’t even enjoy this properly because with every taunt and jab that fell out of Curt’s mouth, the man’s trigger finger twitched.
Might as well get this over with.
Owen slid into the room when the man’s back was turned, not saying a word until he fired a bullet right into the back of his head.
A perfect hit, not that he expected anything less.
“Finally!” Owen’s eyes slid over to Curt, who was somehow managing to be reclining while bound to a chair, and leveled him with an unimpressed stare, “What? I was waiting for you for like an hour! I can’t talk forever, you know.”
A scoff escaped him at that, “Try five minutes, love, and you certainly had me fooled. I don’t know if you noticed, but one more word out of you and that buffoon would’ve put a bullet in your brain.”
Owen made his way behind Curt and gave an experimental tug at the bonds, begrudgingly impressed at the skill with which they’d been tied. He spared a glance at the corpse a few feet away, blood still pooling beneath him, before turning back to the task at hand.
He gave the rope another tug. Harder this time, just to hear the sharp breath Curt drew in as it rubbed against his likely already raw wrists. As loathe as Owen is to admit it, Curt is a relatively competent spy, he would’ve at least attempted to escape before resorting to provocation.
Probably.
Curt tried to crane his neck to look back at Owen, “Having fun back there, Carvour? What, do you like the look of me all tied up for you?” There was a smirk playing at his lips, but Owen couldn’t help noticing the tinge of red colouring the tips of his ears.
“Maybe I do,” Owen circled back around so that he was facing Curt once more, stalking him like prey, “What can I say? Helplessness is a good look on you, Mega.”
He leaned in, grinning, and took some pride in the way that Curt shrunk back just the slightest bit before catching himself.
“Well then, maybe you should do something about it.” Curt was slightly breathless, and Owen drank in the way his pupils dilated with a sort of sadistic glee before straightening back up.
Owen placed a finger under his partner’s chin, tilting it up and admiring the way his jaw sharpened. Then, he let his finger trail down Curt’s neck lightly, perhaps a bit threateningly, “Maybe I shoul—”
He never got the chance to finish that thought because of the speed with which Curt wrenched himself away. Owen just gaped for a few seconds, which seemed like an appropriate reaction to watching Agent Curt Mega shriek like a five-year-old girl and then scrunch his neck into his chest like he was a fucking turtle.
They stared at each other in varying states of shock and confusion, the continuous rise of Owen’s eyebrow matching the deepening shade of red gracing Curt’s face.
“What was that for, love?” Even as Owen asked the question, the gears in his brain were turning, quickly discarding the possibility of injury even though that had been his most immediate concern. The twist of Curt’s features painted a picture of embarrassment rather than pain or genuine discomfort.
Owen’s eyes flickered from his partner’s face, to his neck which was still oddly contorted, to his own hand, and back again. Although he hadn’t exactly been expecting an answer to his question, he certainly wouldn’t have minded one to at least set him in the right direction.
But, as he looked at Curt’s nervous expression, paired with his bright eyes and the faint twitching of his lips that he was clearly trying to tamp down, Owen became more and more sure as to what was ailing him.
A grin began to spread across his lips, and Curt shook his head as his eyes caught on it, “Owen. Owen no. Whatever you’re thinking you’re wrong and don’t you fucking dare.” He tried to follow as Owen moved behind him once more, stiffening as hands were placed on his shoulders, the gentleness not quite masking the mischievous intent.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Owen dragged his thumbs across the base of Curt’s neck, revelling in the shiver that the action elicited. “I’m simply trying to remove you from a predicament that you landed yourself in. Now, hold still.”
Owen allowed himself one last self-indulgent flutter behind Curt’s ears, chuckling at the frantic yelp and frankly over-aggressive flinch before he moved downwards to actually untie his partner.
Their dead friend had clearly left nothing to chance, ropes wound their way tightly around Curt’s torso, threading through his arms and wrapping his wrists together. Owen decided to deal with that last issue first and began searching for the knot.
Which wasn’t there.
“Where the bloody hell is this thing?” It wasn’t readily visible, so Owen assumed that it was tucked somewhere under Curt’s arm. “Are you able to lift your arms at all? I need to get at the knot.”
Cue some truly unnecessary grunting and, “Nope. Looks like you’re gonna have to get up close and personal with this one, Carvour.” Ugh, Owen could practically hear the way Curt waggled his eyebrows and briefly considered just leaving him here.
But, he could have some fun with this.
“Careful what you wish for, Mega,” was all he said before worming his hands in between Curt’s arm and his torso, wiggling his fingers more than was strictly required in his search.
Owen was promptly rewarded with a fruitless attempt at curling inwards and an incredibly satisfying choked-off snort. Maybe this would teach Curt to avoid getting captured in future assignments.
He took his time, slowly prodding down Curt’s ribs and to his sides in his half-hearted attempt at finding this blasted knot. Sharp breaths kept puffing out the man’s nose and his arms pressed impossibly closer.
“Curt, honestly, the least you could do is try to keep still. All you’re doing is making this harder for the both of us.” Owen didn’t even bother trying to hide the smugness that coated his voice.
It’s not like Curt could do anything about it in this state.
At his statement, Curt finally cracked, “You dihihick, just untie me already!” Despite his clear efforts, a giggle still managed to slip out from between gritted teeth which was just delightful.
“I would,” Owen sighed, “if someone would stop hindering my efforts.” He did decide to take a little pity and lighten his touch, not that it seemed too much to help Curt’s current state. Broad shoulders shook as a combination of snickers and curses began to leak out with the odd threat to Owen’s person tossed in there for some variety.
Just then, Owen’s finger brushed against a section of rope, nearly indistinguishable from the rest but clearly the knot he was looking for. “I’d really consider being kinder in your position,” he slipped a hand out to quickly scribble against the back of Curt’s neck, “I could make this a much more, ah, sensitive situation for you.”
“Sorry!” Curt immediately shrieked to Owen’s surprise, “I’m sohohorry! Just not there, alright?! Please, lehet me out of here, I think I’m losing circulation in my hands.”
Owen, tucking that little nugget away for future reference, made quick and relatively painless work of the knot, helping to unwrap Curt where he could. When Curt finally stood up, rubbing feeling back into his arms, he sported a lingering grin.
As he looked up to see Owen’s self-satisfied smirk, he rolled his eyes, “Yeah yeah, laugh it up. We’ll see how you feel the next time you’re in this situation.”
And Owen did laugh at that as he helped Curt gather up his things, “Love, I’ve never been in this situation. I like to think things through before I take action which certainly helps in that regard. You could give it a try, you know.”
Curt took his gun from Owen’s outstretched hand, quickly checking it before sliding it into his holster, “Sounds boring. I’ll leave all that thinking up to you. You’re better at it anyway.”
“Yes, well, it would be nice to not have to think for two,” Owen scoffed, trying to ignore the warmth in his chest at his partner’s words, “It can get rather tiresome.”
A sharp grin made Owen’s pulse race just slightly, “I’m sure that I could give you a break from all that thinking after we get out of here. What do you say? A nice, long thank you for saving my ass earlier.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Yeah, and you love it.” And God help him, Owen really does.
But still, he offers a teasing hum, just to be a bit of an ass before saying, “Well, how can I refuse such an offer?”
A dangerous glint enters Curt’s eye at that and, well, maybe his impulsivity isn’t so bad if it turns out like this. Owen could get used to saving Curt so long as it comes with a little bit of gratitude.