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

Summary: Fact 1: Napoleon Solo hates being underwater.  Fact 2: He will do anything to save Illya Kuryakin.  Fact 3: Fact 2 overrides Fact 1, always.

Notes: this is light slash; gen version is on dreamwidth, though the only difference is literally one less kiss.

This version crossposted to AO3.

If there was one thing that Napoleon hated, it was the
sensation of having his face submerged underwater–it felt as though power was
taken away from him.  In a way, it
was—the ability to breathe was what powered the body; take that away… and you
were powerless.  And oh, how he hated
that feeling!

His swimming skills weren’t the greatest, either—further
reason to avoid a situation that would cause him to be submerged.  Somehow, he had slipped through Survival
School without getting his swimming skills tested—some sort of trickery and
subterfuge that he no longer remembered, no doubt.

He suspected the day would come when it would come back to
bite him with a vengeance—he had been dumped in the water several times, but he
still made it out of those with relative ease thanks to his partner, who
refused to betray his weakness.

Nevertheless, he knew, in the back of his mind, that the
day would come when he would regret the deception—and the day came when, after
keeping watch from the motorboat that he and Illya had been using in order to
get Illya aboard a THRUSH freighter, he saw, with horror, two THRUSHies toss an
unconscious Illya overboard the vessel, bound hand and foot—and with a barbell
tied to a rope around his waist.

Illya hit the water and did not resurface, and Napoleon
knew that he had to act quickly if he hoped to save his partner’s life.

There was no question about what he would do, of
course—while he hated the sensation of having his face submerged, the thought
of losing his partner was the one thing he hated most of all.

He leaped out of the motorboat and let himself sink; he
forced himself not to panic and use up his oxygen as he used a knife to free
Illya from the ropes.

That was the easy part; now he had to get him to the
surface—and to safety.

THRUSH would be watching the water; they would have to get
away.  Fortunately, they weren’t too far
from shore; Napoleon dragged Illya along as he made his way in an ungainly
manner, bounding off of the floor of the bay until the water was shallow enough
to allow Napoleon’s leaps to break the surface of the water.  He gasped for breath and pulled Illya up with
him.  But Illya did not gasp for breath,
and it made Napoleon’s blood run cold.

“No…” he said, now dragging Illya onto the shore.  “Illya, please…”

He pulled the soaked, black turtleneck off of his partner
and put his ear to his chest; yes, there was a heartbeat but… he was clearly
not breathing, and his face was starting to take on an ashen hue, having taken
in water while being unable to hold his breath while unconscious.

Napoleon got to work, breathing for his partner while
trying to get the water out of his lungs.
After what seemed like an eternity of artificial respiration, Illya now
coughed as he began to breathe again on his own—and despite that this was
followed by some unpleasant-looking, painful retching from the unfortunate
Russian, it was a relief for Napoleon to see.

He would still require hospitalization and medical
supervision, but as Illya opened his eyes briefly and looked at Napoleon with a
mix of surprise and gratitude, Napoleon knew that his partner would, in time,
recover with the proper care.  After a
quick call for backup, Napoleon returned to reassuring Illya.

“Help is on the way,” he promised, kissing him gently on
the cheek.

Illya managed a weak nod, and then clutched at Napoleon’s
hand as he continued to try to catch his breath.  He couldn’t talk now, but he would make it
clear later as to how much it meant that Napoleon faced his deepest fears and
risked his life for him.

To know the depths of his love and loyalty made the whole
thing almost worthwhile.