𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐫 // 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧

i miss you, jerk // fluff

SORRY THE CHAPTER TITLE DOESN'T LOOK THE SAME MY FONTS APP IS BEING A BITCH TO ME
also sorry for not updating in a month lol i just watched spies are forever again and i have work tomorrow but i HAVE to write this now. enjoy. for context this is a letter written by owen to curt.

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It had been seven months since Curt and Owen had seen each other in person, and Curt felt like his hand was going to fall off from all the letters he had been writing. Two weeks ago, he had sent Owen a letter, and even though it would usually take a while it seemed to be longer than usual. Travel across the ocean separating them took a few days, as did Owen responding, but that's to be expected. The two were property of their respect countries, Curt understood if he had to wait a bit to write back.

Either way, Curt woke up every morning anxious to see if he had gotten any mail. The safe house had its own little mailbox on the door, and every day Curt would open it only to be disappointed at the lack of a letter.

As said before, it had been two weeks since Curt had sent his last letter. He woke up one morning and, as usual, checked the mail while he waited for coffee to brew. Finally, there was a small letter at the bottom.

The handwriting on it was a slightly messy cursive, exactly what you would expect from a British person. He recognized the handwriting instantly and set the letter in the table temporarily. He finished making his coffee, sat down on the couch, and tore open the paper. He pulled the letter out, with the same handwriting.

Curt,

I received your letter, love, although it took longer than usual. It was, however, worth the wait. You know that I always enjoy hearing from you. Communicating like this really does, well, suck.

You mentioned Cynthia being your your ass- why? Any new missions? God, I hope so. I miss your dumb face. My superiors have word that the Russians have been putting together a new group for a global superpower project. Something about computers controlling the world? I also heard something of an industrial revolution again. As interesting as that would be, I don't know what that would mean for us or our agencies.

Anyway, back to the topic I'm most interested about- a dog! You got us a dog! I'm already in love with him. You know he's our son now. Well, closest to a kid we'll ever have, right? Any ideas for names besides Teapot? Did you just look at the counter and pick something? I wouldn't put it above you, love.

Oh, and to answer your question, no, my parents still haven't contacted me. It's been almost three years, but I don't think they even remember they have a son. Honestly? It's for the better.

I hope to hear back from you as soon as you can write. Do keep in touch, my love, and send your agents my best.

Much Love,

Owen

Curt put the letter down with a sad smile. He stood up, setting his coffee down, and used a thumbtack to put it on the cork board on the living room wall. He kept every paper that was important to him there. The letters were important to him.

He missed Owen. But he knew they'd see each other sooner or later.