Another MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary: In which, after Napoleon is whipped by Captain Shark, Illya, the so-called Ice Prince, looks after him.

Cross-posted to AO3

When Illya had been released from Captain Shark’s brig, the
first thing he did was try to find Napoleon.
All he could think about was how he had tried and failed to stop Shark
from whipping his partner—and he knew that, once he had been taken away, there
would have been no stopping it.

Napoleon, forgive
me, I have failed you…

He had found Napoleon in the room that Shark had assigned
them, lying facedown on his bunk, recovering.
The whiplash marks, looking vivid and painful, burned bright red on Napoleon’s
back, glistening slightly from whatever ointment that had been administered to
him.  And yet, Napoleon was clearly in
discomfort.

“Napoleon…?”

His partner looked up at the sound of his voice, managing a
smile.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I am fine,” Illya said, his blue eyes looking slightly wet as he continued to look at the marks on Napoleon’s back.  “They only left me temporarily winded and
locked up after my ordeal.  But you…”

“It looks a lot worse than it is, I’m sure,” Napoleon said.

“Don’t try to sweep it under the rug,” Illya said, as he
sat beside Napoleon.  “…Oh,
Napoleon.  Shark knows his way around
that whip.  I shall do my best for you,
but I fear…. I fear there will be permanent scarring.”

Napoleon’s expression was unreadable, but Illya knew what
was going through his mind—the realization that the perfectly-toned upper body
he was so proud of was now forever marred.

“…I had a feeling,” he said, after a while.  “Well… I’m sure there’s something or other
that can cover it up in some way…”

“First, let me clean your wounds to minimize the scarring,”
Illya said, and he proceeded to do just that with a wet cloth and some
disinfectant.

The disinfectant stung, but aside from an involuntary
recoil, Napoleon remained quiet and calm as Illya treated him.

“…How bad do you think it will be?” Napoleon asked, after a
while.

“That depends on how the skin will heal,” Illya said.  “As much as I want to tell you there will be
no scarring, I cannot lie to you.  There
will be scarring regardless, but how badly it will be will be determined by how
it heals.”  He sighed.  “I am sorry, Napoleon.”

“It had to happen sooner or later,” Napoleon sighed.  “I guess I should be grateful it’s not my
face.”

“Nyet… I mean, I
am sorry for not being able to stop it.”

“Well, it wasn’t for the lack of trying,” Napoleon reminded
him.  “I’m grateful for you trying to
stop it.  Really.”

Illya wanted to say something—to say that it wasn’t enough
to have tired, that he had utterly failed in protecting him…

Napoleon continued talking, as though tuned in to Illya’s
thoughts.

“You know, I wouldn’t be here talking to you if it wasn’t
for you,” he said.  “You’ve saved my life
multiple times.  And you always try to
help me when you can.  I don’t think I
tell you enough how much I appreciate it—appreciate you.”

“…Even when I fail you?” Illya finally managed, the
bitterness evident in his voice.

“You didn’t fail me,” Napoleon insisted.  “You wouldn’t be here looking after me if you
had.”

“There must have been something else I could have done–”

“You would have ended up getting whipped along with me,
Illya.  How would that have been any
better?” Napoleon asked.  “I mean, do you
think that you’d be… sharing the burden or something?”  There was an awkward pause.  “…You actually do think that!”

“I know it is foolish to think so,” Illya said, going
slightly red as he continued to clean Napoleon’s wounds and now bandaged
them.  “Such irrationality is not like
me, and yet I cannot help but think it…!”

Napoleon managed a smile.

“You’re fine, Illya.
It’s called having a heart.
Sometimes, I think you actually believe that you are the ‘Ice Prince,’
despite that it’s just a front, and these feelings end up surprising you, too..”

Illya couldn’t find a reply to this, and he changed the
subject as he finished bandaging Napoleon’s back.

“Be that as it may, I wish there was more I could do for
you.”

Napoleon now propped himself up on his arm to look back at
Illya.

“You’re here,” he said.
“That’s all I could ask for.”

And, at last, Illya managed a smile back.

“And by your side is where I will stay,” he promised.

“Great,” Napoleon grinned, reaching for his evening
suit.  “Then let’s head down to Shark’s
party and find a way to stop him.”

Illya nodded in agreement.
They would succeed—together.