TW: lowkey religous trauma, internalized homophobia, swearing
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Owen hadn't prayed in years. He stopped ever since he figured out what he was, who he loved. He felt like his world had broken and everything he knew was turned upside down.
Overtime he found the confidence to tell himself he didn't believe anymore. That the years sitting through sermon after sermon wouldn't affect him anymore. That the things he'd heard his father say all in the name of religion would no longer pertain to him in anyway, shape, or form.
Still, they found a way to sneak back into his brain.
Everytime he fell in love with another man, he had to battle himself for the right to not feel disgusting. He fought away the memory of his father's voice condemning him for who he was. He fought away every "marriage is between and man and a woman" that had been engrained into his mind since he was a child.
And then Curt Mega entered his life.
Owen had never really fallen in love like he did with Curt Mega.
It wasn't until two years after they had met that Owen had even realized. And once he realized, everything went to shit.
He tried to act just as friendly as he had before, but it was very evident that something had changed. Even Curt Mega, as dense as he was, noticed it. And he decided to bring it up at a most inopportune time.
"Did I do something wrong?" Curt yelled over the gunfire. Owen looked at him incredulously.
"What?"
"Did I do someth-"
"I heard what you said, just," Owen shot two of their attackers, then ducked back behind the table he and Curt were sheltered by, "what the hell are you talking about?"
"You never go out drinking with me anymore. I feel like you're avoiding me, even when we're on assignments together. I was just wondering if I had done something wrong?" Curt asked before peeking over the table and shooting two more CHIMERA agents.
"Is now really the best time?" Owen agitatedly replied as they avoided more bullets.
"Yes, because I know if I brought this up anywhere else you'd come up with a convenient excuse and leave. You can't really do that here," Curt gestured to the men currently shooting at them.
Shit, Owen thought, he's right.
"Well, right now we need to focus on getting out of here," Owen shot three of the five men that were still standing, while Curt picked off the final two. "Very good. Let's go then," Owen began to walk towards the door, but Curt caught his wrist.
"Promise me we'll continue talking about this later. It's... important to me." Curt's eyes were filled with determination and something else. A deeper feeling that Owen wasn't quite sure he could describe. So all he did was nod.
"I promise."
The car ride from the blown up CHIMERA lab was another place that Owen couldn't escape from. Since he was, you know, driving the car.
"Okay, fess up. What did I do wrong?" Curt asked, while peeling an orange with a machete.
"Please be careful with that," Owen said instead, eyeballing the huge knife out of the corner of his eye.
"Relax, once I've made a cut I'll use my fingers, okay? Besides, you didn't answer the question." Curt, true to his words, discarded the machete and went at the orange with his hands.
"You didn't do anything wrong, I've just... been busy."
"Bullshit," Curt snorted, "c'mon Carvour, give me the truth."
"I'm in love with your mother," Owen deadpanned. Curt burst out laughing and threw a piece of orange peel at Owen's head. "Hey, I'm driving here!" Owen protested, but he couldn't help his smile.
Once the laughter had calmed down, Owen cleared his throat.
"It's not the lovely Mrs. Mega, but there is someone in my life that I love," Owen admitted softly, keeping his eyes glued to the road, "but I hate myself for it."
"Why?" Curt tentatively asked.
"Because it goes against everything I was ever taught," Owen stated, refusing to elaborate more. He was already on thin ice, and if Curt tried to pry anything more out of him, he might just confess to everything.
Curt didn't try to push it anymore. He simply held out an orange slice and watched as Owen took it.
Silence fell over the pair. Owen took a bite of the orange slice and let the citrusy flavor distract him from the tense atmosphere of the car.
He didn't dare take his eyes off the road. He wondered if Curt had guessed what he was talking about and hated him now. It wouldn't take much to link his statement about loving someone and his odd behavior towards Curt specifically. Any minute now Curt was going to realize and hate him and he would have to run away and start a new life-
"Y'know, my father would tell me all his awful opinions like they were facts and I'd believe him," Curt started, breaking Owen out of his spiralling thoughts. He picked at the white string that covered one side of his slice. "I held onto them even after he left. It took years for me to realize that I actually believed something different, and even more time for me to think that it was okay. So if you ever want to talk about it, I might understand what you're going through."
The silence returned as Curt stuck the whole slice into his mouth. The smell of oranges filled the quiet. It was calming. It filled Owen with courage, with the feeling that he could say anything. So he opened his mouth and words spilled out.
"Sometimes I forget that I'm okay with who I am. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that people like me are sinners, that they're these awful people," Owen's vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, "and sometimes I get scared and pray without a second thought to a God I thought I stopped believing in. I thought I had grown, but I'm still that scared little kid sitting in a sermon, trying not to cry because of something I can't control. I thought I was finally, truly me, but I'm still just what my parents made of me." Owen sniffed and quickly wiped his tears away to clear his sight. "I'm starting to think that's all I'll ever be."
More tears came and Owen did nothing to stop them. He let them fall as they pulled into the safe house's gravel driveway. He parked the car before clearing his throat. "Right then, let's get these blueprints photographed and sent to our respective agencies."
"Okay," Curt replied softly.
And that's what they did. They examined the blueprints, took the photos they needed to, and sent them away. Still, they had the rest of the night to spend in the safehouse.
Owen was sitting on the couch, with a random book open. He wasn't reading a single word, even though he tried. He really tried not to think about how much he had shared in the car, but he couldn't help it. His thoughts always circled back to it, like a boomerang of doom.
"That book must be really good."
Owen hesitantly lifted his eyes up from the page.
Curt Mega had flung himself on the other half of the couch, and he gave Owen a smirk.
"I found a ladder. We can stargaze on the roof like in Paris. Much less light pollution out here though, I think," Curt's smile grew with each word, "and while we don't have wine this time, hot cocoa is a good substitute." Only then did Owen notice the two steaming mugs that Curt held in his hands. He held one out to Owen with a raised eyebrow.
"I'd like that," Owen set down the book and took the mug.
You'd thinking trying to get up a ladder with only one hand plus a mug of hot cocoa would be hard, but anything was better then the Ladder Incident of 1954. So they made it up just fine.
After a couple of minutes, Curt made a trip into the house for a blanket, because it was fairly chilly. When he came back he found Owen shivering and asking if he could go back down to get another one. Which Curt refused since he just came back with a perfectly good blanket, and there was no reason they couldn't share!
So they sat there, on the roof, staring at the countless stars that neither of them had bothered to learn the names of, huddled under a blanket that smelled like dust, the hot cocoa warming their hands and their spirits.
"Y'know, you're more than who you once were," Curt said quietly. Owen stiffened next to him, hoping that this conversation would end before he told Curt something he'd regret.
"You're Owen Carvour. You're the guy who stopped to pet stray cats while we were running from people who wanted to kill us." Curt's smile broadened at the memory.
"You're the man who got up a ladder with no feet, one hand, with your eyes closed, just because I said you couldn't." At that they both laughed.
"You're the best shot in the M16, and if it wasn't for me, probably the whole world."
"Hey, I'm a better shot than you!" Owen protested, but Curt plunged on.
"You're the best partner I've ever had, and probably ever will have. And sometimes things are tough, but it's okay. Because you are Owen Carvour, even on your bad days. And that's wonderful." Curt smiled for what felt like the millionth time that night.
"Why's that?" Owen stared at the hot cocoa which was no longer hot so much as it was lukewarm.
"Hmm?"
"Why is me being me so wonderful?" Owen raised his head to meet Curt's eyes, and again, that deep feeling that Owen couldn't put his finger on. It was in Curt's eyes again, softer then before, but still there.
"Because I love you, Owen Carvour."
Owen's eyes widened.
That was the feeling that he couldn't- no, wouldn't let himself identify. Because he was scared of Curt feeling the same way.
A silence that had become only too familiar to them once again fell. Curt shifted uncomfortably before beginning to get up. "I'm sorry, I'll just-"
"I'm worried," Owen managed to whisper, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm worried that I'll look at you the same way my father looked at me."
"You are not your father," Curt stated quietly, sitting down right next to Owen, placing his hand on Owen's shoulder, "just like I am not mine. We are our own people. We forge our own path. And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like my path to include you."
Owen answered by simply leaning forward and touching their foreheads together. "Like I could ever get rid of you," he muttered, and Curt smiled yet again.
"Can I kiss you?" He asked.
"Be my guest," Owen replied.
Owen may not have believed in God anymore, but he sure as hell was in Heaven now, with Curt's lips against his.
"I love you, despite everything I was ever taught," Owen said after pulling away.
"Damn, Carvour, never pegged you as a forbidden love kinda guy," Curt smirked.
"What can I say? You bring out the romantic in me," Owen smirked right back.
"Well I'm all for being romantic, but can we go back inside? I'm freezing my ass off out here," Curt complained suddenly, and his words were backed up by the shiver that racked his body.
"Whatever you want, love. Bet you can't get down the ladder with no feet, one hand, and both eyes closed."
"Oh no, I am not spraining my wrist again!"
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A/n
Dang guess who wrote most of this one shot in a car while skipping church? I feel so rebellious man. Anygays this oneshots kinda all over the place whoopsie
Also I found SAF fanart hanging in our school's art gallery, it was a picture of Tatiana, so someone in my school is one of us and now I'm lowkey wondering if they read my fanfic. That would be awkward.
I know this isnt either of the chapters I promised you but I got one out finally so hooray me! Sorry for being tremendously bad at updating, its ✨the mental illness✨
Peace out Earthlings <33