curtwen oneshots

is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?- crack angst

curt found himself tied down to a chair. this wasn't unusual, figuring he's a spy. new chair every week. he only bit his cheek and thought of comebacks to whatever the interrogators would say this time

but this time, it was

tickling?

shit, his one weakness

"personal history does have its benefits, mega"

and a bang

one mustache rip later, and there he stood.

"owen carvour, you limey bastard" curt exclaimed, the british spy looking back at him.

"is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"

a shout came from behind him, followed by another bang.

"both" owen deadpanned, before grabbing curt's hand.

curt didn't know it until it happened

falling

owen dead

owen dead, for years.

and then, he stood there, holding documents, a scowl on his face.

curt did his best to stop him, to convince him to stop. but now had been cornered by the man he had been persueing. bested again.

his pleas had fallen on deaf ears. and now those cold eyes flared down at him.

if this was the end, then so be it. he was with owen. but this wasn't his owen.

with a weak chuckle, curt barely managed to speak.

"is that a gun in your pants, or are you just happy to see me?"

owens eyes hardened.

"both"

curt felt something hard come down on his head

then

darkness

he woke up, hours later

tied to a chair