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

Summary:
In which yet another renegade fed thinks he can bribe Napoleon into handing over Illya.  Will they ever learn?  …Probably not.

This version is light slash; gen version is available on my Dreamwidth.

Not cross-posting this because this might be expanded upon in the future.

“Every man has his price, Solo,” the renegade fed
boasted.  “And we know you like to live
large in luxury.  You, too, have a
price—and we’re offering to pay it.  Just
one word from us, and you will live in luxury for the rest of your life.  All you have to do is hand over that
yellow-headed Russian to me.”

The man was either extremely confident or lethally stupid,
for the piercing glare on Napoleon’s face would have sent most people running
for cover as he stood in the doorway of the U.N.C.L.E. safehouse, blocking the
fed from entering.  Yet, the man kept at
it.

“I know that you and Kuryakin have been pursued by THRUSH
for days—and that Kuryakin was wounded in the leg.  He is a liability to you at this point.  I can–”

“I already know what’s been going on,” Napoleon said.  “I know that there is a bounty on Illya by
renegade Bureau agents to get the information of the Soviet launch codes from
him.  You’re not the first.”

“But I am willing to pay more than the others!” the man
said.  “You see, money isn’t important to
me—it’s the prestige.  No price is too
great!”  He smirked.  “I understand that the last offer made to you
was a mere one million dollars?  I have
access to a vault filled with five million dollars.  What do you say?”

“No,” Napoleon said, firmly.

“Still not enough?
No worries—I can go higher.  Just
tell me, what do you want from me?”

Napoleon glared daggers at him.

“To drop dead.”

The renegade’s smug look faded, and was then replaced with
utter fear as Napoleon drew his Special.

“No!  No, please–!”

BANG.

It was just a tranquilizer, of course, but it was still
satisfying to see the man drop.  Napoleon
quickly contacted the backup he had requested to hide in the forest surrounding
the safehouse and, within minutes, they had arrived and carried the prisoner off.

“Are you sure you don’t want Medical to take Mr. Kuraykin
in, Sir?” one of the agents asked.

“Yes, Illya has made it very clear that all he has is a
flesh wound, and he wants no fuss made over it.”  It was true; Illya was more annoyed at his
misfortune in not going unscathed than anything else.  He ate, rested, and complained—all signs for
Napoleon to be reassured that he would be fine.

“Okay; we’ll be in touch again in case either of you change
your minds…”

That wasn’t likely, especially with the promise of more
renegade feds running around—Napoleon figured that he and Illya were better off
here, in the middle of nowhere.  They had
only had one intruder thus far—one who, out of greed of collecting the bounty,
would not have told anyone else about his location.

Napoleon now returned to the bedroom where Illya was
resting, sound asleep by the look of it.
He smiled, brushing some strands of hair out of his partner’s eyes
before changing and getting into bed with him.

“I should be insulted, the way they think I’d sell you out
for money…” he murmured, drawing an arm around him.  “They could never understand that what I have
with you is far more valuable than any cash hoard or treasure in existence.”

He sighed, pulling Illya to him protectively before
drifting off to sleep.

Illya had been awake, it turned out, and had heard the
entire exchange.  It wasn’t the first
time he’d overheard Napoleon turning down large sums of money for him—and he
had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

Still, it was almost worth it to know just how deep and how
true Napoleon’s love and loyalty ran.

Illya gently kissed Napoleon on the temple and then cuddled
up in his hold, drifting off to sleep, as well.

“Good night, Dorogoy,” he whispered, before slipping into
slumber.  “And thank you.  You are my greatest treasure, as well.”

It was a treasure that the both of them would hold dear
forever.