Work Text:
The Two Heads Are Better Than One Affair
by blackillya
“Dammit!!”
Illya Kuryakin came out of the bathroom, a hastily wrapped towel around his slim hips, and headed for the bedroom.
The sight that greeted him was unusual to say the least. Clothes were being flung out of the spacious closet to stay wherever they landed, and the very angry voice of his partner, and lover of three glorious years, Napoleon Solo, issued from within.
“Napoleon?, he called, hesitantly.
“Dammit!! I just had it!!”, came the heated reply.
Illya ventured into the littered room with caution. “What are you looking for?,” he asked.
Solo ignored the question and continued his assault on the closet. “Waverly’s going to kill us for being late!,” he growled. “Where could it be!?”
Illya was just a few feet from Solo now. “Where could what be.....?”, he began.
“Will you stop asking stupid questions and help me!?,” Solo snapped.
Illya ignored the outburst. Six years of knowing Napoleon Solo had taught him many things - the main one - both had volatile tempers and how to deal with it.
Keeping this in mind, Illya entered the closet just a Napoleon turned around, his arms filled with suits. He pulled the frustrated American into a firm embrace. The American struggled but Illya held fast. “Will you please calm down and tell me what you are looking for!”, he demanded.
Though gentle, the command tone was not lost on Solo. He took a deep breathe, then another, finally getting his temper under control. “If you must know, Mr. Nosey, my favorite tie - the one you gave me, the.....” The hint of amusement in the Russian’s eyes brought his tirade to a halt but threatened to fuel his anger once more. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
Ignoring the question Illya took the suits from Napoleon’s arms and threw them on the nearby bed; then, turning back to the other man, he reached up and tugged at the tie hanging around the collar of the shirt. “This tie?,” he could not keep the teasing tone out of his voice.
Napoleon opened his mouth to protest but had to laugh at himself. God, and Illya, knows what the expression on his face must be. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered.
Illya finished his task, then kissed his lover. “Don’t worry about it, ‘Pasha. In this business I’m surprised we remember our names. Be that as it may, we need to get going.”
“Right,” Napoleon conceded, giving the pouty lower lip a nip, then headed for the door.
Illya sighed. “Uh, Napoleon.....”, he prompted.
“Hmmmm?”
Illya held up three items. “Keys, wallet and suit jacket.’
This sent both men into fits of giggles.
“Does this give a whole new meaning to hidden in plain sight?”, Illya sputtered between attempts to catch his breathe.
“Yes; also gives evidence to the old saying: ‘two heads are better than one’. Let’s
go.”
Illya followed his lover still holding the keys, wallet and suit jacket.
FINI
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