And another MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII.

Summary: In which Napoleon and Illya celebrate New Year’s Eve in Times Square, 1961.

Notes:
There are two versions of this piece.  This is the light slash
version (also cross-posted to AO3).  There is a gen version on my
dreamwidth if you’d prefer reading that.
The two blurbs are around 90% similar.

Times Square was normally not a place that Napoleon or
Illya found themselves in outside of missions, but New Year’s Eve was always an
exception, assuming they were in town for it.
It was the one night where the crowd would be happy and energetic, waiting
for the ball to drop at midnight and signal the arrival of the New Year.  And 1961, Napoleon and Illya’s second year as
partners, had brought them many successes.

It had also brought them closer than ever before, having
started a relationship back in January.
In addition to successes, the last year together had been wonderful,
getting to know each other in new and exciting ways.  And they were happy—happy in their work, and
happy in their relationship.  The last
year had proven to both of them that they had, at last, found what they were
looking for in a life companion.

And so, when Napoleon had asked Illya to spend New Year’s
Eve in Times Square with him, Illya had accepted, despite his hatred for crowds
and noise.  He knew that Napoleon usually
enjoyed attending the festivities, but hadn’t been able to last year as he had
still been recovering from a mission where he’d ended up falling from Niagara
Falls.  Napoleon had expressed interest
in going this year, and when he’d offered Illya the chance to come along, Illya
considered it before eventually accepting.

It was clear that Napoleon was enjoying himself as they
watched the glittering ball, illuminated with the bright, white lights, sparkle
overhead, and despite the unfathomable number of people, Illya found himself
enjoying it—and he insisted it during the numerous times Napoleon stopped to
ask and make sure that Illya wasn’t feeling uncomfortable in the crowd, though
Illya appreciated him asking.

At last, midnight drew near, and the duo watched, along
with the rest of the revelers, as the giant, glittering ball descended, and
once it had completed its descent, the crowd erupted into joyous shouts to
welcome 1962.

Napoleon turned to his partner with a grin.

“Happy New Year, Illya,” he said, warmly.

Illya smiled back.

“Happy New Year, Napoleon.”

They both paused as, somewhere, a band began to play “Auld
Lang Syne,” accompanied by someone on a microphone, singing the lyrics.  The partners’ eyes locked, briefly, and after
looking around to ensure that they were more or less invisible to the crowd,
who were either still too busy shouting greetings to 1962 or indulging in a New
Year’s kiss, Napoleon and Illya quickly indulged in a New Year’s kiss of their
own—a moment that they had wanted to steal in public, and finally snatched the
chance to do so.  The thrill of their
stolen moment, despite being in full view, was practically sending electricity
through them.  They pulled away from each
other after a moment, the both of them grinning ear to ear.

And it was with triumph that Napoleon now gently held
Illya’s hand, once again unnoticed by the crowd, looking on as Illya softly
began to sing along—

“And there’s a hand,
my trusted friend/And give a hand o’ thine…”

Illya’s voice was bewitching, and Napoleon gave a slight
shake of his head that clearly said, “That
should be you singing on that microphone.”

Illya read and understood the look, and let out a snort
through his nostrils before gently gesturing for Napoleon to sing along with
him.  After a brief “Who, me?” gesture, Napoleon shrugged and did so, the two of them
enjoying the peace and joy that they both had helped to ensure—and would
continue to do so.

“We’ll take a cup of
kindness yet for Auld Lang Syne.”