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This mission was so different. Curt was not used to this. He flirted, sure, but he never expected his partner to flirt back. Really, his default mode was to be as obnoxious as possible so that they didn’t team him up with anyone. Too many complaints meant that he was mostly a lone agent now, with the agency only pairing him with foreign agents when absolutely necessary (like this mission). Normally, he flirted, he was reckless, he’d poke fun at the other person’s country and culture, all in an attempt to get as many complaints about him as possible once the job was done.
Owen though, he flirted back. Of course he would though, after that first night together when Curt hadn’t even known that Owen was an agent, let alone the one they were going to partner him with. And when he made fun of Owen for eating beans on toast, Owen shot back that is was probably healthier than the american fast food that he eats back home. When Curt told Owen he had set the explosives for fifteen minutes, Owen had looked at him in shocked disbelief, then laughed. Actually laughed!
They had gotten out safely, Curt was sure they would, but the adrenaline rush was what he lived for. And when he turned and saw Owen next to him, laughing in shock, dropping to the ground and rolling onto his back, gasping for breath after their sprint out… well, he looked beautiful.
“Is it always like this with you lot?” Owen had asked when he caught his breath.
“Nah, just me,” Curt admitted. “Agencies hate me for it.”
“I heard,” Owen laughed, and Curt cringed to realise that they had warned Owen about him before they had met. “Fuck, that was fun!”
Owen was still shaking with adrenaline when they got back to their shared hotel room. He had called his agency to let them know it was a success while Curt took a shower. When Owen took his shower, Curt splayed out on his bed and stared at the ceiling.
He had met an agent who was perfect, he thought. Gay, adrenaline junkie, didn’t mind banter in which they insulted each other. Curt sighed. He only wished he was american, so they could become partners. Although, if he were american, he wouldn’t have the accent….
Owen exited the washroom, shirtless and hair wet, only a towel around his waist. “You call in yet? I didn’t hear you while I was in there.”
Curt smirked. “You were listening?”
Owen rolled his eyes as he got to his suitcase and started looking for his sleep clothes. “We’re spies love, it’s what we do.”
Curt hummed and pushed the call button on his watch. Within seconds, Cynthia’s voice loudly screamed through the room. “Mega, you’d better tell me that your mission went without a hitch or I swear I’m going to kill you. Carlson- the other agent we sent the brits, new guy, you haven’t met him- he went and let his partner get shot and now they’re hounding my ass over it-“
Owen burst out laughing, and Curt decided that that was his new favourite sound in the whole world.
“What the fuck is that? Are you not alone!?”
Curt tried to mime a quiet gesture to Owen, who tried to quiet down, only to snort and laugh some more. “Fuck, sorry!”
“I’m with the guy they teamed me up with. Owen, this is Cynthia, Cynthia, Owen Carvour.”
“Nice to meet you,” Owen finally got himself under control.
There was a pause, a silence, lasting just long enough for the two spies to share a look wondering if something was wrong, before Cynthia’s voice came back. “Owen Carvour?”
“Of MI6 yes, the mission was successful by the way. Neither of us shot,” Owen replied.
“Well, that’s good. Fantastic actually.”
“Is something wrong?” Curt asked.
“I don’t think you’ve ever remembered another agent’s full name before, or stayed with them after a mission. I figured you’d be at a bar complaining about ‘Oscar Carlton’ by now, if I’m honest.”
Owen snorted again, and covered his mouth. “I’m flattered,” he settled for.
Curt rolled his eyes. “Don’t be you… twat.”
“Ooh, sick burn, douche,” Owen said, with a terrible american accent at the end.
“Well, looks like you two hit it off,” Cynthia’s voice cut in, and they suddenly froze, faces flush, staring at each other in shock, wondering if she knew. But then she continued, “And thank fuck because I can not let Carlson stay over there after that fuckup. Carvour, you think your agency would mind giving you the job instead? You’d be stuck with this idiot undercover for a month, maybe two,” and they relaxed, the moment of panic past.
“You know, I don’t see why not,” Owen replied, leaning on the bed to get closer to Curt’s wrist. “Between you and I, I think he could use someone that’ll knock him down a few pegs, and I’d be glad for the chance.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Curt playfully pushed him away. “Gotta go Cynthia!”
He didn’t hear what she said as he turned the watch off, but Owen was giggling. “I think she likes you more than me,” Curt grumbled.
Owen sat next to him and pulled him closer. “Give her some slack, Curt. She may have just gotten us a month or two together,” he leaned in for a kiss, and Curt decided that it might be a good thing. Maybe Cynthia would keep pushing to get him paired with Owen whenever their two nations needed to team up for something.