Prompt: Bag over head

Summary: Illya was just in the wrong place at the wrong time…

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya had been bound hand and foot, dragged around the
countryside—not by THRUSH, shockingly enough, but by a group of bank
robbers.  It was a vexing case of being
in the wrong place at the wrong time—accompanying Napoleon to the bank for an
errand was something that the two of them did all the time.

It was just bad luck that the bank robbers had chosen that
day to commit their crime—and it was also bad luck that, upon seizing as much
money as they could carry, decided that they wanted to take a hostage for
insurance.  And it was further ill luck
that they wanted to take “that weird blond guy” as their hostage.

And so, to protect the innocents still in the bank, Illya
went with them without a fuss—despite his cooperation, they covered his head
with a money bag and threw him into the back of a getaway car.

This sort of thing
would
happen to me, he thought semi-furiously.
He winced as he was bounced and jostled around in the back of the
car.  He could feel the bruises forming
on his face; he certainly wasn’t going to look like a prize by the time this
was over.  But, with any luck, the
bruises would mean that Napoleon’s retribution would be all the more satisfying
to watch—it took a lot to get Napoleon Solo angry, but bringing harm upon Illya
was a surefire way to succeed.

Indeed, his captors soon started complaining about a car
following them, and then, a moment later, noticing that all four tires had been
shot out in a blink of an eye, for even though THRUSH had been co-founded by a
marksman, Napoleon, when sufficiently angered, could have a razor-sharp aim
that would have sent Sebastian Moran himself running for cover, had they ever
met.

The thieves complained loudly—there were no police cars
following them, so how had their tires been shot out?

They then decided to use Illya as a shield to get away;
they dragged him out of the car, and one of them removed the bag that was
covering his head.  Illya greedily drew
the fresh air in for a moment.

“Shut up and just come along quietly,” one of them hissed.

Illya rolled his eyes; it was almost comical, how these
four bank robbers were trying to hide behind him.

“I don’t understand how someone managed to follow us!”

“Because you took an international police agent as a
hostage, you fool!” Illya finally snapped at them.

The moment of sheer, abject horror on the robbers’ faces
was worth it as, one by one, they were tranquilized and dropped to the ground,
leaving Illya standing, still bound.

Napoleon appeared a moment later, cutting him free and
looking at him with a tender expression before turning his wrath on the fallen
robbers—as Illya looked on in satisfaction.

Prompt: On their knees

Summary: A THRUSH captor wants to prove that he can break Napoleon Solo.  Napoleon has to figure out why

Cross-posted to AO3.  Light slash; gen version posted at dreamwidth.

Napoleon flinched as the THRUSH interrogators continued to
beat him with sticks.  He struggled to
his knees; it took everything just to stay like that.

“You can end this suffering, Solo,” the THRUSH executive
said, standing in front of him.  “Just
give me what I want.”

“There is nothing I have that could interest you,” Napoleon
said, struggling to focus as everything around him started to go out of
focus.  “You won’t get any U.N.C.L.E.
secrets from me.  Lesser THRUSH agents
than you have tried and failed…”  He trailed
off, his focus lessening.

The THRUSH executive snapped his fingers, and Napoleon
shuddered as a bucket of cold water was dumped on him.

“Information?” he repeated.
“Whoever said anything about information?  There is nothing I need to know about pathetic
U.N.C.L.E.—my inside men have already found out everything I needed to
know.  How else was I able to have you
brought before me with such ease?”

Napoleon blinked, trying to stay conscious.

“Then… why am I here…?” he asked, his voice slightly
slurred.  “What… what do you want… from
me…?”

“I want to prove that Napoleon Solo is breakable,” the
executive said.  “There’s nothing I need to get from you, Solo.  I just need to prove that I can.”

Napoleon winced as the executive’s hand, cold with the
metal from the silver rings he wore, smacked him across the face.  The hand then stopped in front of his face.

“Kiss the ring on my hand,” he ordered.  “A simple show of surrender and fealty is all
I need.”

Even through the cloudy haze of pain and dizziness,
Napoleon hesitated.

“Oh, go on, Solo,” the executive said, waving his flunkies
out of the room.  “There, it is just the
two of us now—no one else will be witness to your humiliation, if that’s what
you’re worried about.”

Napoleon blinked.

“Then why… go through all this…?” he murmured.  “What’s the point…?”

“To prove that I can!” the executive said.  “To prove that I can break the unbreakable
Napoleon Solo!”

“But if no one else will know, then why…?” Napoleon
asked.  “You’re not… doing this for
yourself…”  He trailed off, his glance
falling onto the mirror in the room, taking up most of the wall space on the
far wall.  “…Who’s back there, watching
us through the mirror?”

“What difference does it make?” the executive snarled.  “Do you want this suffering to continue!?  I am asking you to do one simple thing—one
simple thing that will not bring any harm to your precious U.N.C.L.E., so why
do you hesitate!?”

“Because you’re so insistent…” Napoleon murmured.  “Who is watching us?  Other THRUSH executives?  …No.
They wouldn’t sit by and watch you try to do what they’ve been trying;
they’d be in here, trying, too…  The only
benefit to having me do this is to destroy the morale of my…”  He trailed off, his eyes widening.  “…My partner.”

Of course…  THRUSH
somehow had found out about Napoleon breaking during the Summit Five Affair,
and how that had affected Illya.  What
better way to break him than by breaking Napoleon in front of his eyes again?

A fierce fire lit in his eyes as he got off of his knees
and struggled to his feet.

“Do your worst.”

He nearly regretted that statement; the frustrated
executive hit him several more times until he screamed at his underlings to
throw him back into a cell.

Illya was soon thrown in the cell, as well, and after
cursing their captors out in Russian, he tended to Napoleon’s wounds.

“Once you had figured out what was going on, you could have
just done an act and pretended to surrender,” Illya softly said.  “I saw the look in your eyes through the
two-way mirror; I would have understood.”

“Well…” Napoleon said, keeping his eyes closed as he
rested, flinching slightly as Illya disinfected his wounds.  “…You know I’ve got a stubborn streak.”

“…I do, indeed.”

“Besides… I’d rather kiss you anyday.”

Illya paused, looking at him with a tender expression
before gently kissing him.  Napoleon
managed a smile, relaxing as Illya continued to treat his wounds.

And as they were eventually rescued a few hours later by
Mark and April, recovering together in Medical, Illya had to admit that he was,
secretly, glad that Napoleon hadn’t broken and that, if nothing else, his
partner’s pride was still intact.