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.

Prompt: Cathartic shower/bath

Summary: Their job isn’t an easy one, and some days are harder than others.

Cross-posted to AO3

It was 3 AM, and the shower was running.  Napoleon sat on the couch, listening to the
water running.  It had been a sleepless
night for the both of them, after their last mission—a decidedly somber one, as
Napoleon and Illya had been assigned to deal with the aftermath of a THRUSH
attack on a small village—there had been no signs of it happening, no chatter
that would have alerted them to it, and no way for them to have prevented it.

The carnage had been difficult for both of them to witness,
but Illya especially had been forcefully reminded of his boyhood days during
the war in Kiev.  Upon returning to New
York, they didn’t even bother to try to sleep—if it had come, it would have
been filled with nightmares, anyway.

Illya had gone in for a shower after arriving home, leaving
Napoleon with the cat in the living room.
Finally, Illya, now in a bathrobe, his hair still wet, walked in and sat
down on the couch beside Napoleon, sighing deeply.

“Didn’t help much, did it?” Napoleon asked.

“No,” Illya said.  “How
long was I in there for?”

“Hour and a half almost.”

“Mmh.  There should
be some hot water left, if you want to take one.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,” Napoleon said.  He passed a hand over his forehead.  “I think I’m just too tired to move.”

“Tired… physically?”

“No, not physically—tired of this,” Napoleon said.  “But we’ve got to keep at it—we can’t let
THRUSH keep getting away with things like this.”

Illya gave him a long look.

“…How can you keep positive in the face of all of this?” he
asked, after a while.  “We see so much
devastation on our missions, and yet, you seem convinced that we are able to
improve things.”

“Well, you have to agree we’re keeping things from getting
worse.  We’re fortunate enough to be in a
position that allows us to do that.”

Illya conceded this.

“Even so…  Do you not
find it draining?”

“Of course I do,” Napoleon said.  “It’s incredibly disheartening.  Sometimes, even I ask myself what the point
of it is.”

“And do you get an answer?”

“Yeah—if not us, then who?
I don’t know if I could settle for not doing what I could.  And I think you feel the same way—because you
wouldn’t have joined U.N.C.L.E. if you were truly cynical that things could
never change.”

Without saying a word, Illya silently admitted that
Napoleon was right.

“But some days are harder than others,” he concluded.

“Some days are,” Napoleon agreed.  “And that’s when we rely on each other to
help us through it.  Because we’re a great
team—you and me.”

He reached out to Illya, who took his hand.  Baba Yaga paused and added her paw to their
hands.

Despite themselves, they both managed a smile at this.

“…And kitty makes three,” Illya added.

Sleep was out of their grasp tonight, but they would
continue on.

Prompt: Surrender

Summary: Part 2 of 2.  When you’ve got the perfect partner, the impossible becomes possible.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya was certainly willing to trust whatever plan Napoleon
had to get them out of their predicament—ten THRUSHies meant that their enemies
were, no doubt, expecting them to tire and surrender.  And while going quietly might end up working
in their favor temporarily, it was a last resort.

“What is your plan?” Illya whispered.

“That we fall back on the element of surprise,” Napoleon
said.  “Right now, with everyone being
too scared to move, they are expecting us to stand quietly like this until we
give up.”

“But, we won’t.”

“We won’t,” Napoleon agreed.  “If we can find a way to distract them for
just a moment, we can get the drop on them and tranquilize them.  And, knowing you, you probably placed some of
your special fireworks before we ended up surrounded, didn’t you?”

“Mmh, you know me well…”

Napoleon smirked.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“There’s just one small hiccup,” Illya said.  “The charges aren’t timed; they need to be
activated by a detonator—and the activation mechanism is hidden in my
watch.  If I move my right hand to my
watch, the movement will likely cause them to react.”

“My right hand is right near your left,” Napoleon
said.  “Just tell me what to do.”

Their arms had been at their sides, and Napoleon now
slightly moved his right hand to touch Illya’s watch.”

“Just turn the dial a quarter-turn.”

Napoleon did so, and, a few yards away, an explosion went
off.  As they’d hoped, all ten THRUSHies
turned to face the direction of the explosion.

They grabbed their Specials and, still back-to-back,
flawlessly turned around in sync together, each tranquilizing 5 THRUSHies in
rapid succession, with each pair of shots occurring almost simultaneously.

“Well, that went well,” Napoleon grinned.

“That, it did,” Illya said, satisfied.  He wouldn’t get emotional now, but he was
very glad that Napoleon had been here, as he knew he wouldn’t have pulled off
this maneuver with anyone else.

“Well, let’s gather these THRUSHies up into the nearest
U.N.C.L.E. cage,” Napoleon said.  “I’m
sure you’re hungry after that standoff.”

“Very,” Illya agreed, smiling now.

They knew each other well—and that was what made them such
great partners.

Prompt: Outnumbered

Summary: Part 1 of 2.  It’s 2 against 10, and no one dares to make the first move…

Cross-posted to AO3

Nobody was making a move just yet; the THRUSHies weren’t
sure that the duo had any tricks up their sleeves, and Napoleon and Illya
didn’t want to make any sudden moves that might set the THRUSHies off.

“How many do you see on your side?” Napoleon whispered, out
of the corner of his mouth.

“Five of them,” Illya whispered back.

“Same here…”

Illya let out a quiet sigh.

“What now?  We are in
a standoff.  Whoever makes a move first
will be instigating something dire indeed.”

“Let’s hope they understand that point,” Napoleon murmured.

“I would try to activate my distress signal, but that could
set them off,” Illya muttered, annoyed.

“It’s guaranteed; they’d want to take us in or take us out
before backup got here…”

“Well, we cannot stand here forever!”

“I know that, and you know that,” Napoleon replied.  “And I’m pretty sure they know it, too.”

“We are outnumbered,” Illya observed.  “And grossly so.  And, along with that, we are obviously
outgunned.”

“Yeah, they have more guns and ammo,” Napoleon agreed.  “But there’s one thing we have that they don’t.”

“What’s that?”

“Each other—and a plan,” Napoleon added.  “Illya, we’re going to get out of this—together.”

Prompt: Gagged

Summary: At what point does danger become a mere annoyance?  Takes place during “The Pieces of Fate Affair.”

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya had to admit, after getting captured so many times,
getting bound and gagged was starting to get more annoying than anything
else.  Judging by the look on Napoleon’s
face, he was more annoyed and upset about his suit getting covered with dust;
at least, he didn’t wince until he took a look at the dust on his sleeve.

Illya rolled his eyes in spite of himself as Napoleon now
managed to manipulate the gag off of his mouth.
After drawing in a greedy breath of air, he now moved over to Illya,
using his bound hands to work on Illya’s bonds, muttering under his breath
about the laundry bill they would incur.

He showed Illya how to manipulate the gag off; he, too,
began to remark wryly about their situation as Napoleon fretted about more coal
coming down on top of them—at least until Illya pointed out that the building
used oil as heat, as evidenced by the audible sounds of the oil furnace.

“…I am slightly embarrassed that I didn’t notice that,”
Napoleon said, after a moment.  “Huh…”

Illya cleared his throat, holding up his bound hands,
pulling Napoleon from his thoughts once again.

Napoleon managed to untie the bonds—a favor which Illya
quickly returned, and the two of them got to their feet.  Napoleon did a proper surveillance of his
suit, and groaned in dismay as how dirty it was now.

“Look on the bright side, Napoleon,” Illya said.  “At least it is just the laundry, and not a
full destruction of your suit, as what usually tends to happen when we get
captured by THRUSH.”

Napoleon paused for a moment, considering this, and then
gave a “You’ve got a point there,” nod.

“How’s the rest of me?” he wondered, touching his face to
see if he could feel any dirt there.

“Personally, I think the ‘dusty hero’ look augments your
features,” Illya intoned.  “But if your
vanity is that much of a concern, I suppose we could hit the Turkish bath.  Again.”

“…Let’s go with that, then.”

Illya shook his head in amusement, wondering at exactly
what point in their careers a situation like this became more of an annoyance
than an actual danger.

Prompt: Grief

Summary: Their latest mission strikes, quite literally, very close to home for Illya.

Cross-posted to AO3

Napoleon knew there was trouble when, upon arriving at the
breakfast table, he saw the morning paper tossed aside, as if having been done
in anger.  Further proof that something
was wrong was the fact that Illya was ignoring the plate of food in front of him,
instead glaring out the window of their apartment.  The third sign was their cat, Baba Yaga,
looking up at him in concern, meowing repeatedly, yet not getting a response
from him, which she would usually get instantly.

“Illya?” Napoleon asked, gently.  “What’s wrong?”

“It is… a very complex situation, Napoleon.  …And I fear you will think less of me once
you know the full truth.”

“Well, I know that’s not possible,” Napoleon insisted.

“Don’t jump to conclusions before you know the full story,”
Illya said, ruefully.  He picked up part
of the newspaper and handed it to Napoleon.

“‘International coalition to come together to apprehend a
wanted war criminal on the run since the end of the Second World War,’”
Napoleon read.  He frowned at the picture
of the man in the paper—clearly unrepentant for the cruel acts he had
performed.  “‘Efforts to apprehend the
man will be spearheaded by U.N.C.L.E., aided by a wartime resistance group of
former prisoners of war known as the Unsung Heroes.  Head of U.N.C.L.E. New York, Alexander
Waverly, has promised that his top men will be assigned to the mission.’  Oh, so that’s it.  …Well, I don’t see what’s so wrong with
that—we’ve done this sort of thing before, bringing in people wanted for war
crimes.  Or are you concerned about what
these Unsung Heroes will think about you being a Russian?”

“No,” Illya said, his voice calm, despite the fact that he
was shaking.  “Take a closer look at the
man’s biography.”

Napoleon did so, reading the man’s military history, and
pausing as he noticed one particular milestone written in the description—

“…Battle of Kiev…” Napoleon realized.  “…Illya…”

“I recognized his face immediately,” Illya said, passing a
hand over his eyes.  “How could I
not…?  I saw him as I was fleeing from my
home, staring cold and unfeelingly at the homes where he knew innocent civilian
were in.  I still remember how he barked
the orders to blast the houses…”  He
trembled.  “…My house was among them…”

“Oh, Illya…”

“He was the one!” Illya suddenly snapped.  “He was the one who took everything from me…!  He
destroyed my home and killed my family…!”

“We are going to bring him to justice, Illya,” Napoleon
promised.  “Waverly is going to assign us
to this—the writing’s on the wall already…”

He trailed off at the look on Illya’s face.

“I don’t want mere ‘justice,’ Napoleon,” Illya said.  “I want vengeance.  And yet, I know that is not what U.N.C.L.E.
stands for, and it is not what you would stand for, for you are a paragon of
mercy.  …And so, I am ashamed…”

Napoleon exhaled and drew Illya to a tight embrace.

“Don’t be ashamed,” he said, softly.  “I’ve… done things I haven’t been proud of,
too, you know.”

Illya blinked.

“But your family is intact.”

“I didn’t mean them,” Napoleon said.  “Do you remember when I infiltrated Brother
Love’s society?”

“Not much of it,” Illya said.  “He threw a grenade at the car I was driving;
I was unconscious for most of it.”

“…That’s just it; I didn’t know you were just
unconscious.  I thought…”

Illya blinked.

“Do you mean to tell me that Brother Love’s death was…?”

“An act of vengeance?
Deep down, it was,” Napoleon admitted.
“Sure, I said in the mission report that he had to be stopped at all
costs, and sure, the innocent agreed that there was no other option, but…  I know I probably could have looked for a way
to spare him, whether or not I would have eventually succeeded, but… I refused
to even search for that way.”  He
sighed.  “Grief can push you to do things
that you would never consider.  And
that’s why I fully understand the conflicting emotions you’re feeling.”  He glanced back at the newspaper.  “One way or another, we will find this
man.  As for his fate…  I’m going to leave that up to you.”  He gave Illya’s shoulder a squeeze.  “And just know that, no matter what, I’ll
always be on your side.”

Illya exhaled, filled with gratitude at having such an
understanding partner.

“Thank you,” he said, softly.

He didn’t know what his heart would end up deciding once
they caught up to their quarry—but the knowledge that Napoleon would be with
him through it all was already a crushing weight being lifted from his
shoulders.

Prompt: Fever

Summary: Illya looks after a stricken Napoleon as they wait for backup to extract them.

Cross-posted to AO3

Illya could only wish that they weren’t in an isolated
forest; Napoleon needed medical attention—proper medical attention, and not
just what limited work Illya could do with some wild-growing herbs.

During their escape from a THRUSH satrap, Napoleon had been
struck by a THRUSH poison dart.  It had
taken a while for it to take effect, but once it had, he had collapsed as his
weakened body now tried to fight back.
He was burning up with a high fever as his system attempted to purge the
toxins from him.

Illya had done what he could with what he had—which wasn’t
much.  He had concocted a green herbal
soup and had fed it to Napoleon, and then he had spent several hours trying to
get back in touch with U.N.C.L.E.; he had finally succeeded and managed to
summon help, but given their location, far from civilization, it was going to
take a lot more time before their extraction team reached them.

“They will be here,” he said, gently wiping Napoleon’s
forehead with a cold cloth.  “I don’t
know when, but they will find us eventually.
But, until then, you have to hold on.
Do you hear me?”

Napoleon’s face slightly turned in his direction; Illya
took that as a hopeful sign.

“Do you remember when Mills went renegade and poisoned me?”
Illya went on.  “After I recovered, we
had another case where another one of our agents had been poisoned with the
same toxin—only he had not survived.  We
both concluded that it was because he had no one trying to encourage his
recovery that he was not able to make it.
Well, Napoleon… I am here.  And I
will not stop fighting to make sure you survive.  So you had better keep on fighting to do so,
as well.”

Napoleon’s eyes briefly opened, looking up at his partner
for a moment.  He gave a slight nod and
rested his eyes again, but slightly moved his hand to grab Illya’s free one.

Satisfied, Illya kept tending to him and talking to him
until their backup finally arrived to extract them.  Soon, Napoleon was in Medical, having been
administered the antidote to the poison, and was recovering, his fever down at
last.

And Illya was still by his side, ready to help him fight
again if need be.

It was just one of the things that made their partnership
work so well.