Curwen Oneshots

Solo

(Set When Spies Is)

"So, we need you two in Russia by tomorrow and you'll be given the location of a safe house to go to until you can get back here." Cynthia handed a file over to Owen.
"Okay." Owen stood up and Curt followed.
"Make sure to stick together at all times. I swear to god if you two fuck up this mission I will personally kill both of you."
"Do you realise that your threats don't help anything?" Curt asked her, genuinely curious.
"I don't give a shit, it's fun for me. Now get out."
Owen and Curt left Cynthia's office, went to Owen's car to leave for the airport.
"I can never quite tell if Cynthia is pissed at us or if she does genuinely just love threatening people." Owen started the car.
"To be honest, I'm pretty sure it's both." Curt tried not to make eye contact with Owen. Not that he would admit it, but he had been dreading that week. He hadn't spent a week in a hotel room with Owen since Berlin and that had been months ago. It had been easier to hide his feelings then.

"Looks like there's only one bed,' Owen pointed out once they got to the hotel.
"I'll take the floor."
"No, no. You did that last-"
"Owen.' Curt smiled. 'It's fine."
"Well, if you insist." Owen put their bags down and immediately approached the desk where there was a kettle.
"We've been here for all of three minutes and you're already making tea? Typical." Curt grinned up at him as he set up pillows and blankets on the floor.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that and instead ask if you would like one."
"Yes, milk-"
"And sugar, yes, I know, love."
Curt could feel himself blushing. He knew Owen had a habit of flirting with practically everyone he came across, so it's not like he was getting his hopes up, but he couldn't help the way he felt every time Owen looked at him like that.
When Curt went to sleep that night, his last thought was of his and Owen's last mission in New York. He had carried Owen back to the agency bleeding and hardly breathing. He had been sure that he would be too late. Ever since that day, Curt had always been absolutely terrified of anything happening to Owen. Having to face the reality of nearly losing his partner made his job much more difficult.
So, when he woke up the next morning with all those images still in his mind, he got an idea. He quietly unplugged Owen's alarm clock, knowing that he could sleep in for hours without it, and got dressed. Just as he was about to leave, he stole a glance at Owen. He was in the most awkward position imaginable, on his side with one arm trapped underneath him and one sprawled over the edge of the bed, yet he looked so peaceful. Curt had to leave quickly or he knew he could stay there for hours, just admiring everything about Owen.
He slipped out the front door with a bag containing guns and a bomb for which he held the switch. After they set their six minute record back in Berlin, he and Owen had agreed never to use timers again in case they got too cocky.
He drove to the Russian base they were supposed to go to and found his way in, shooting quite a few guards in the process. Fairly soon, he found the blueprints Cynthia was after and tried to escape, but when he turned around, he felt something cold press up against his temple. Warily, he turned to see a Russian guard staring him in the face. The blueprints were forced from his hands as the man cuffed them and dragged Curt down a corridor, eventually knocking him out when he tried to fight back.
Curt woke up bound to a chair in a dimly lit concrete box with a metallic smell thickening the air. When he felt the blood dripping from his forehead, and noticed blood splattered all over the walls, he understood why.
"Ah, you're awake." A man swinging a chain in his hand strolled over to Curt, drawing his attention to the metal tray atop the table next to him. Curt scowled at the man as he realised what was coming.
"Now, we can do this the easy way or I can make it hard for you."
Curt chuckled. "Unlikely."
The burn as a hand smacked his face was instantaneous.
"Who are you working for?" The man deposited the chain in the tray, switching it out for a silver blade.
"Well, I'm not working right now, so..." Curt winced as he felt the blade cut through his trousers and sink into his leg.
"I'll ask you once more, who are you working for?"
"I can hardly work with my leg bleeding like thi-" Curt got cut off by the chain being pulled tightly around his throat. He could feel the man's breath on his cheek as he fought for air.
"Why did you want our blueprints? Who sent you?"
Curt gasped and coughed, his arms flailing behind the chair. Well, as much as they could when they were restrained.
Just as he could feel the life be sucked out of him, the chain slid down his chest and he fell forward, losing consciousness again. Just before he did, he heard the sound of a body clattering to the floor.
"Curt! Curt! Wake up, you goddamned-"
"Owen?" Curt looked at Owen, suddenly petrified by the fire in his eyes.
"Curt, what the hell were you thinking?" He went to untie the ropes around Curt's chest.
He flinched. "Don't touch me!"
"I'm just trying to help you! You're lucky I didn't leave you here to get choked to death after you did the one thing Cynthia told us not to do!"
"Well, don't!" Curt swatted Owen's arms away and, ineffectively, tried to get the ropes off himself.
"Curt! Would you stop trying to make an arse out of an already shitty situation and let me bloody help!" Owen yelled as he got out a knife, the sight of which made Curt flinch again, and cut through the ropes. "There. Now we can get out of here. Did you get the blueprints?"
"Yes, the guard left the blueprints in my hands whilst he tortured me!"
"You got us into this situation, either help me or shut your damn mouth!"
"I know where they are. How many guards out there?"
"Not many, I killed most of them whilst you were getting yourself captured."
"Don't act like this is all my fault!"
"Then who's is it? I'm not the one who unplugged your alarm clock and ran off by myself!"
"Let's just go!"
The two glared at each other as they ran back to the room with the blueprints and Owen snatched them up, leaving Curt to shoot the remaining guards on their way as he struggled to run.
The whole time they were driving to the safe house, Owen was silently seething and Curt was trying not to scream at the stab wound on his leg. They arrived at the location after what seemed like hours, but was realistically only about fifteen minutes and, despite how furious he was at Curt, Owen helped him in since he could barely walk.
"You're exceedingly lucky that I know what I'm doing with this stuff, since we can't exactly get to a hospital without Cynthia finding out what you pulled back there. Hold still."
Curt stayed silent and kept his eyes tightly shut as Owen cleaned and stitched the wound on his leg.
"Are you not going to say anything?"
"What would be the point?"
"The point would be I want to know why on earth you ran off on the mission without me. And why you went to such lengths, even putting yourself in danger to keep me in the dark!" Owen was still angry, but he could tell Curt was upset and he decided to keep the lectures for later.
"Why does it matter?"
"Curt, you nearly got yourself killed today. And you're asking why it matters?"
"Why should you care?"
"I'm your friend, of course I care!"
"But you don't understand!"
Owen finished with the stitches and pulled his chair round to the head of Curt's bed, "I don't understand what?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Curt, for the love of god-"
"I said it doesn't matter."
"Well, would you at least tell me why you did it?"
Silence.
"Tell me!"
"Because I didn't want you to get hurt!" Curt blurted out, fear instantly flooding his eyes.
"But you were fine with getting stabbed and choked nearly to death?"
'"I told you you wouldn't understand."
"See, you keep saying that, but I have no idea what you mean."
Curt turned his head away from Owen as he fought back tears.
"Is this about New York?"
"Yes, it's about New York!" Curt shouted. "I had to watch you nearly die!"
"That still doesn't explain-"
"I don't want to watch you die, Owen! I don't want you to be in danger. Is that what you wanted to hear? Well, there you go. You've got your answer."
"You- Curt, what do you mean?" Owen stared at him.
"I think you know what I mean."
"I'm not too sure I do. Do you mean-"
Curt just looked away from Owen at the yellowish wall.
"Curt, hey, talk to me." He softened.
"Why? So you can report me and get me fired?"
"No, you know I'd never do that."
"Why? Why wouldn't you? And why wouldn't you tell Cynthia what I did today? You're clearly pissed!"
Owen curled into himself slightly, "I don't want to watch you die either, Curt."
Curt looked up in disbelief. "You-"
Owen nodded as he wiped a tear from his cheek.
"Owen-"
Still tense, Owen leaned down and kissed Curt's forehead.
"That doesn't mean I'm not still pissed at you."
"Fair enough."
"But we got the blueprints and neither of us died."
"Is that you saying you forgive me?"
"Don't push it, love."
Curt smiled.
"But I'm getting there. Now," Owen stood up, "you get some sleep. I'll get our stuff from the hotel and I'll be back in a couple of hours."
"Okay. Oh, Owen?"
He turned around.
"I am sorry about today. I know it was dumb. I just couldn't imagine anything happening to you."
"It's all right, Curt. I know you meant well. And you're right, it was incredibly stupid, but I get why you did it. Now, sleep."
"Okay."
Owen watched smiling as Curt nestled into the pillow before flicking the light switch and closing the door.