Prompt: Bandaging Wounds

Summary: Number of people Napoleon took on in that bar brawl?  Four.  Regrets?  None.

Cross-posted to AO3

It was times like these that Napoleon was grateful that his
partner had medical expertise—even if it was pathology.  But, then again, Illya had argued that the
body was the same build for the living and the dead—the living just complained
more.

And Napoleon did complain—though with his face being a mask
of purple bruises and numerous cuts and scratches all over the rest of him, he
had a right to.  And, if anything,
hearing him complain was a much-needed to Illya that he was not hurt any worse.

“What are you trying to do—mummify me?” Napoleon protested,
as Illya now wrapped almost all of his left arm in bandages as they rested in
their hotel room.  It was fortunate that
they were in a big city like Savannah, Georgia—it allowed Illya to obtain the
medical equipment he needed with relative ease.

“I know the extensiveness of your vanity,” Illya said,
simply.  “So I am ensuring that the
scarring is as minimal as possible.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Napoleon said.  “But I’m a bit more concerned about my face
than my arms.  How does my face look?”

“…You will heal, but for now, you look like you were in a
brawl with four other men built like brick walls—which you were,” Illya
chided.  “Really, Napoleon—a bar
brawl?  Somehow, I always thought you
were too classy for that.”

Napoleon shrugged.

“But I won, didn’t I?” he pointed out, with a smirk of
triumph.  “You should’ve seen them
bolting out of the bar!”

“That well may be, but you should have called me for
assistance sooner rather than waiting until you were at the doctor’s office,”
Illya added.  “I could have helped to
prevent some of these injuries!”

“But you were off on a mission to obtain a basket of
shrimp; I couldn’t interrupt you from your noble quest!”

“For you, Napoleon, I will always cast aside mealtime,”
Illya promised.

“Now that’s true
loyalty…”

“And you are lucky you weren’t in worse shape when I found
you,” Illya said.  “I am still trying to
grasp how this happened.  What were you
even fighting about, anyway?”

Napoleon’s expression darkened.

“Let’s just say that THRUSH aren’t the only ones who
consider certain people as undesirables,” he said.  “In a case like this, my response was the
same–I did what I had to in order to protect innocents.”

Now Illya’s expression darkened, as well.

“You really should
have called me,” he said.  “This is not
something I would have stood for either, and you know it.”

“Didn’t want to risk them getting on you because of your
accent,” Napoleon mumbled.

“Oh, Napoleon…” Illya sighed, finishing his treatment of
Napoleon’s wounds.  “Well, what happened
to the innocents?”

Napoleon gave a rueful smile.

“I guess I must have looked pretty beaten-up, because they
wanted to get me to the doctor’s, which was where you found me—they never
really got to sit down and leisurely enjoy their drinks after all,” he sighed.  “Still… it’s a small consolation that, at
least, they left of their own accord rather than being intimidated into
leaving.”

“I can agree with that,” Illya said.

Napoleon sighed and glanced up, staring at the ceiling, and
Illya soon did the same.

“We keep going?” Illya asked.

“We keep going,” Napoleon agreed.

There was nothing else to do but that.