Prompt: Tucked In

Summary: It’s been a long and tiring mission, but at the end of the day, they will always have each other.

Cross-posted to AO3.  Slash; there is no gen version

It was impossible to retain a boundless energy for 100% of
the time, especially in their line of work.
This was obviously true for Illya, who, on any given day, was content to
relax quietly in a chair, reading a book with one hand and petting the cat with
the other.

Napoleon had always been the social butterfly, so to
speak—even after a long day of work, he was always up for a night on the
town.  But, even for him, there were days
when the lure of the comfort of the bed was far greater.

They had rubbed off on each other—Illya had learned to
enjoy going out on the town, just as Napoleon had learned to enjoy sitting
around doing nothing.

And they enjoyed each other’s company, for their love for
each other was strong and was the most important thing—more important than
whether or not they went out or stayed in.

And so, after a long, exhausting day with the promise of a
weekend off (a rarity they both relished), they were both beneath the covers of
the bed, ignoring the cold autumn rain that the wind was blowing upon the
windows.

Inside, they were warm and safe—and together.  Napoleon had a protective arm around Illya
and had fallen asleep like that; Illya stayed awake for a little while longer,
lulled to sleep by the comfort of his partner’s touch and the familiar smell of
the bay rum he wore.

Aside from the wind and the rain, the only other sounds
were from the cat, Baba Yaga, prowling around in the living room, keeping a
sharp lookout to ensure that nothing—be it a bug or a THRUSHie–would invade
the apartment while she was on alert.

Illya gave a quiet, contented sigh and nuzzled up against
Napoleon; Napoleon awoke slightly as the blond hair tickled his chin, but he
smiled, kissed him gently, and readjusted his arm around him.  As much as he would have liked to suggest
something more intimate, he knew they were both in need of sleep more than
anything.  And, anyway, there was always
tomorrow morning.  With this in mind,
Napoleon was soon asleep once again.

Illya was generally not one to make wishes—he usually
didn’t believe in that sort of thing, after all.

But as he, too, found himself drifting off to sleep in the comforting
warmth of his partner’s embrace, he found himself wishing that this would be
something that the two of them could enjoy forever.

Prompt: Shoulder to Cry On

Summary: THRUSH’s new truth serum did not work as anyone expected…

Cross-posted to AO3

It was times like these that Illya was grateful that he
could convince Medical that Napoleon was better off recovering from this new
THRUSH drug at home.  This one in
particular would have been very embarrassing for Medical staff to witness, and
if Illya could preserve his partner’s dignity, then it was well worth putting
up with the drug-induced blubberings that Napoleon was spouting out.

“It’s a truth serum gone horribly wrong,” Illya sighed, as
he gently pat Napoleon on the back as he sobbed into his shoulder.

Napoleon was talking and confessing, alright—but to random
things that had been on his conscience.

“I shouldn’t have taken the family car for a joyride when I
was fifteen!”

“It’s alright, Napoleon…”

“I didn’t even have a
license!”

“I am sure the statute of limitations has long passed on
that,” Illya said, calmly.

“It wasn’t just that; I did all sorts of dumb things when I
was a kid—convinced Takeshi and the gang to play around the old well that
everyone said was haunted…!”

“Youngsters always do foolish things, Napoleon,” Illya
reassured him.  “Don’t forget, my mother
caught me playing cops and robbers in a tree—just before I fell out and bruised
my coccyx…  She addressed me as ‘Foolish
Duckling’ for a solid week…”

“I borrowed your turtleneck without asking once!” Napoleon
blurted out.

“I forgive you.”

Napoleon hugged him now, the drug causing him to be
overemotional and overreacting.

“You’re too good to me!”

“I am,” Illya agreed.
His expression softened.  “But so
are you.  You’ve sat with me patiently
whenever THRUSH drugged me and I got overemotional, so of course I will do the
same for you.”

And he was true to his word.  It was after a few more hours that the drug
wore off and, embarrassed, Napoleon pulled himself together.  And Illya did what Napoleon always did
whenever the situation was reversed—acted as though it had been nothing, never
brought it up again, and omitted it from the mission report.

It was an unspoken guarantee between the two of them, and
just another one of the many factors that made their partnership work so well.

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.