Work Text:
5th November, 1957
Curt didn't expect to be in London on Owen's birthday of all days, picking out an outfit to attend a houseparty to celebrate.
Owen had never taken Curt back to London to meet his social circle outside of work before, so Curt's stomach was in knots, utterly nervous for the evening ahead.
A small collection of Owen's friends had organised a gathering at one of their houses to celebrate Owen's birthday, even though Owen begged them to not make a fuss over him.
"Not every day you turn thirty." The aforementioned friend, a broad-chested, strong man called Pete, said, earning an eye-roll from Owen.
Pete had been Owen's best friend since school, and also quite possibly his first kiss back in the day, but they were friends nonetheless.
"It's no big deal." Owen replied casually, not fazed at all by his milestone birthday.
Meanwhile, Curt was practically shitting his pants out of the nerves that came with meeting some of Owen's friends for the first time.
"Come on, love! We'll be late!" Owen shouted from down the stairs.
"Just a second." Curt fidgeted with his collar again nervously before making his way down the stairs in Owen's house.
Owen was by the door, buttoning up his jacket to prepare for the cold November air outside.
"Finally…" Owen sighed with a smile on his face. "You ready?"
"Yeah." Curt smiled back, his nerves abating as Owen smiled at him.
Curt slipped a jacket of his own on as they left the house, heading ten minutes away to Owen's friend's house.
They walked a few feet apart from one another, as to not arouse any suspicion while they made their way to the party. Still, Curt felt Owen's excitement a mile off, knowing how he didn't get to spend as much time with these particular friends due to MI6 always sending him away on missions.
They turned a corner, heading toward a nice looking house with a faded red door.
Owen practically skipped up the stairs and knocked.
The same man who had invited them, Pete, answered, beaming at Owen.
"You made it!"
"Wasn't about to miss my own birthday party, ducky." Owen grinned back, giving this friend a hug. "You've met my American friend, haven't you?"
"I have, yeah." Owen's friend turned to address Curt. "Come on in, the pair of you."
Owen practically dragged Curt in behind them.
The door closed behind and Owen and Curt took off their jackets, hanging them by the door.
The party was just getting started as they arrived, some jazz music playing on record, drinks being passed around. There were around ten other people, some of whom looked like they were together.
They all paused and cheered brieflt as they saw Owen, who had relaxed as well, taking Curt's hand in his own.
"Come on, love. Let's say hello."
Owen went up to a blonde man dressed like he'd just come from a construction site.
"Evening." Owen smiled, sitting in front of him.
"Mary! It's been too long!" The other man returned Owen's smile. "We thought you'd forgotten about us and turned traitor."
Curt almost asked Owen why, but then remembered Owen telling him how he had another name when out in London for anonymity and that most of his friends called him that.
"Oi, just because my affair's with a yank, doesn't mean that I'm betraying my country!" Owen laughed. "Good to see you too."
"And I take that this is it?" The other man studied Curt appraisingly, and Curt wished that the ground would swallow him whole.
"If by 'it' you mean the bones, yes." Owen corrected.
"You're that serious?"
"I am." Owen stared at Curt like he hung the moon. "This is my good friend, Madge. Madge, my bones over here doesn't have an other name yet, I was hoping we could have a christening tonight."
"Hi." Curt offered a smile and his hand to shake, still slightly confused at the slang they were using.
"Oh, he's dolly." Owen's friend, fake name Madge, replied, looking Curt up and down. "What's the colour of your eyes?"
"Hey! No cruising on him! Not when you have your own chicken somewhere about." Owen dragged Curt away.
"Sorry! I'm allowed to appreciate, aren't I?"
Owen stuck his middle finger up, cackling as he walked across to a couple sat in the corner, clearly already drunk.
"Sorry, love, he gets a little sidetracked if he's been drinking. But he's harmless." Owen patted Curt on the shoulder.
"It's fine…" Curt replied.
He stared ahead, trying to remember the crash course Owen had given him in whatever he was speaking, Polari, realising that now he'll have to remember everything that Owen had taught him to keep up.
He remembered bits and pieces, knowing that dolly was some form of a compliment, and a few phrases here and there that Owen would use randomly.
But still, he felt completely out of his depth as Owen conversed easily and freely with his friends, who officially dubbed him an antique, and Owen rolled his eyes playfully.
"I'm going to get a drink." Curt said, feeling incredibly awkward at not being able to properly converse in this slang as easily as Owen would and needing something to do with his hands.
"If you're going, would you mind also getting a glass of diddle for me?"
"Oh? Sure…" Curt mumbled, completely unsure of what Owen wanted, but he'd try anyway.
Curt walked over to the drinks table, having a look at the bottles on display, mumbling that word under his breath.
"You're looking for the gin." 'Madge' sauntered over and helped him.
"Thanks." Curt smiled awkwardly as he poured Owen a glass and got himself a whiskey.
Across the room, Owen was talking with a newcomer, who had followed Owen's gaze to Curt
"Who's the dolly old eek grabbing bevvies?" He asked.
"That's my husband." Owen said, not even thinking about it. He never brought it up, but he did call Curt his husband in his head when thinking about him, multiple times, and maybe it was the atmosphere, or the alcohol, but it just slipped out. His eyes were fixed exclusively on Curt, his entire world narrowing down to just one person, filled with love.
Curt heard and almost choked on his whiskey, sputtering into the air.
HOLY SHIT!
He knew they were safe enough, Owen had thoroughly vetted everyone at the party multiple times, but it was a surprise nonetheless.
What was marginally less suprising was the way Curt's cheeks burned as he heard Owen call him his husband, wanting to hear it again.
Curt knew that a life where anyone would call him husband, let alone Owen, was not in the cards. He was a queer and a spy and far too restless to ever settle down like that.
But the way Owen said it, like it was the most obvious, natural thing in the world… Curt had never felt more loved in his life.
"Vada that, he really loves you, then." 'Madge' replied, bringing Curt back to the present. "He's had a few affairs over the years, but none he referred to as a husband."
"Really?" Curt cursed himself for sounding so bashful, especially when he was trying to make a good first impression on Owen's friends.
"Mhm. He's happier than I've seen him in a long time." 'Madge' smiled. "I'm not going to keep you."
"Okay. Be seeing you." Curt walked back over, a slightly stupid grin on his face.
"There you are! Hope Madge wasn't too much trouble." Owen beamed when Curr returned, like his whole world narrowed down to just him.
"No, no. He's actually a nice guy." Curt laughed, handing Owen his drink.
As the party continued and the music played, Curt found himself able to pick up more of the Polari everyone was speaking based on context clues and was even able to hold his own in a conversation.
Then a slower jazz song started playing and everyone started coupling up to dance together.
"Care to dance, love?" Owen offered his hand.
"Always." Curt smiled, taking Owen's hand, as they put their drinks to the side.
They began to dance together, moving softly to the music.
Owen spun Curt out, trying to pull off a fancy move that they weren't sober enough for, and ended up colliding with one another, so they settled on simply swaying together, closer than they ever could be in public.
Curt rested his head against Owen's shoulder, just enjoying this moment of pure peace and joy. He smelled Owen's cologne, drawing it in with each breath, and felt Owen's heartbeat fall in sync with his own.
"So…" Curt asked quietly. "Husband?"
"You heard me?" Owen paled, his spine stiffening ever so slightly. Curt was never meant to hear that, he didn't want to scare him off.
"Yeah."
Owen wanted to laugh it off, to just explain how it meant a relationship that was more than just a quick one-time hookup, and return to the status quo, just for Curt's sake. But, emboldened by one too many gin and tonics, and the relaxed, romantic atmosphere, he said something else, completely unbidden.
"I would marry you, if I could." Owen buried his own face in Curt's shoulder, hiding the extreme flush to his face.
"You mean that?"
"Yes."
Curt let go of one of Owen's hands and lifted his face up. "Happy birthday."
Owen felt all the air rush into his lungs as Curt kissed him, long and romantic and tender, like the first kiss at a wedding. He pulled Curt closer as he kissed back, deepening the kiss as they did so.
They forgot where one ended and the other began, absorbed into one another, into the love that they shared.
Unfortunately, they had to breathe at some point, and wound up resting their foreheads against one another.
Curt laughed, unable to express his joy any other way, and Owen joined in.
The party wound down around midnight, and so Owen and Curt walked home, giggling and stumbling drunkenly home.
As Owen watched Curt beside him, talking his ear off about his study of the German language, his heart melted, utterly in love with him.
He decided in that moment, that this had been the best birthday he ever had, making a silent wish that every year would be like this.