Another MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary: Napoleon is out of the action with a minor bug, and Illya has to (reluctantly) take his place as security detail at a fancy party.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Napoleon groaned in frustration after letting out another sneeze
that seemed to cause the room to shake.
He sniffled into a handkerchief, cursing whatever bug had decided to
attach itself to him—the same bug that had attached itself to Illya the week
before.  In all fairness, Illya had
warned him to keep his distance, but that was an impossible task as far as
Napoleon was concerned.

And so, he was tucked in bed, grumpy with the knowledge
that the world was continuing to go by, and that included Illya; Illya had
requested time off from work to look after Napoleon as Napoleon had done for
him, but an emergency security detail was needed at a fancy international gala,
and no one else from Section II was available.
It was the sort of thing that Napoleon would have loved to have
attended—but that was quite out of the question now, as was any hope of Illya
staying home that evening.

And so, Illya, dressed in a striking black tuxedo with
matching bow tie, stopped in to the bedroom to give Napoleon a mixture of lemon
water and honey to help sooth his throat and to offer his apologies for leaving
him.

“Are you sure you will be alright without me?”

Napoleon just grunted again, once again sniffling into his
handkerchief before drinking the mixture.

“I’ll be alright,” he promised.  “Baba Yaga will look after me.”

As if understanding, the cat meowed, and Illya gave her scritches
behind the ear, which she gratefully accepted.

“Yes, I trust her to look after you,” Illya agreed.  “Are you feeling any better, by the way?”

“…Not really,” Napoleon admitted.  “At this point, my nose just feels like a
dead weight…”

“That feeling will pass in another day or so,” Illya
promised, sympathizing with him.  “And,
perhaps, next time, when I tell you I am contagious, you take my advice and keep
your distance!”

“…Probably not…” Napoleon admitted.

Illya rolled his eyes.

“Well,” he said, his expression softening.  “You know how much I dislike being at these
parties—you can be sure I will return as soon as I can.  And I’ll make Mother’s chicken soup recipe
for you—she made sure I got down every little detail of it.”

Napoleon managed a chuckle at this.

“She probably would have mailed it if she could have…” he
mused, as Baba Yaga’s ears perked up at the mention of chicken soup.

“That, I don’t doubt,” Illya mused.  “I left the number of the hall by the phone;
if you desperately need my attention, let me know.”

“I–”

“Let me rephrase that; if you desperately need medical attention, let me know.”

Napoleon put on a mock-offended look, but then managed a
smile as Illya gave him a sympathetic look.

“I will see you soon,” Illya promised.  “Try and get some rest.”

Napoleon nodded and closed his eyes as Illya took his leave
and Baba Yaga kept a close eye on him from her basket.  Illya, true to his word, had returned and had
been by his side when Napoleon later awoke, the hot soup ready in hand.

With his partner to look after him, Napoleon was feeling
better already.