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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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2020-11-04
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1,061
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The Off The Cuff Affair

Summary:

CATEGORY: Slash
RATING: FRT-13
ARCHIVE: Anywhere and everywhere...
NOTES: My answer to the "Bad Boys" challenge at ManFromUncle. This is an alternative ending to The Children's Day Affair.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

The Off The Cuff Affair
by Sandra Esparza

 

"Men like you sometimes need to be treated like bad boys," Napoleon Solo said into his friend's ear as the blond lay face down on a cot.

"...not...funny..." Illya Kuryakin bit out each word. It was difficult for him to say more when he was concentrating all his energy on tuning out the immense pain he was in.

"I'm sorry, Illya. I was trying for 'gallows humor'," Napoleon said contritely. "Just hang on. The ambulance is on the way."

Sitting on the cold cement floor of a dank cell, combing his fingers softly through Illya's hair, the CEA felt so helpless, so *useless*. Each time he looked at the tattered red shirt on his partner's back, his stomach would do an involuntary roll. That morning, the shirt had been stark white. That morning, his best friend had not been whipped beyond reason.

"...you never told me...what happened to...Mother Fear..." Illya hissed through clenched teeth.

"Ah, yes. Mother Fear. Sadly, she and her cronies were involved in a tragic accident."

"...what kind of...accident...?"

"I accidentally-on-purpose executed them."

Illya stiffened. "...what about Mr. Waverly...?"

"No, *he's* still alive."

Illya snorted out a laugh. "...you know what I mean..."

"Yes, I know. You're wondering what Waverly will say when he learns I meted out my own brand of justice. The fact is I don't care. They didn't deserve to live after what they did to you."

For the next few minutes, the Agents sat in companionable silence; the Russian reveling in the soothing, hypnotic rhythm of Napoleon's hand in his hair.

It was Illya who spoke first, his voice low and raspy.

"...I was worried...you would not find me..."

"It wasn't easy. When I tracked you down, I saw you were chained to a wall. By then the bastards had already... finished with you. Then they stood there *laughing*, clapping each other on the back."

Solo lowered his head. "I keep thinking...if only I had gotten here sooner..."

"...I know...I have often...been in your shoes..."

"Is that a fact? Next you'll be telling me you've been wearing my clothes!" Napoleon teased.

Illya turned away.

"What, you *have* been wearing my clothes?" Napoleon asked, clearly surprised.

"...I...I stole one of your...sweatshirts from the gym...I forgot my own so I...borrowed yours...from your locker..."

"You mean the locker I keep *locked!*"

Illya managed to grin innocently.

"...I was planning to...wash it and return it...but instead...I kept it..."

The American knitted his brow.

"Why would you want my sweatshirt?"

"...because...it is yours..." Illya peeked up disarmingly from under his lashes.

Tilting his head to see Illya better, Napoleon was aghast to find tears had wet his partner's pale cheeks.

"Oh, Illya," he rested his forehead against the blond's. "I wish there was something I could do for you..."

"...you are here with me...that is enough..."

"I swear to God if I could take your place I would," Solo unconsciously began to kiss away each salty tear.

Stunned, Illya could only stare at Napoleon with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Having kissed a path to Illya's mouth, Solo gave a mental shrug. He'd come this far; might as well go for broke as he gently brought his mouth down on the Russian's.

Suddenly, Solo's communicator beeped at him and he jumped back as if scalded.

"Solo, here," he said after assembling the miniature transmitter. "*Where the hell is the damn ambulance!?*"

"I've been informed they just arrived at the boy's school," a cultured voice came over the line.

"Mr. Waverly!" Napoleon cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Of more importance is how is Mr. Kuryakin?"

"He's in a great deal of pain, Sir."

"I see. And Mother Fear and her malevolent brood?"

Napoleon locked eyes with Illya.

"Neutralized, Sir."

The airwave was ominously quiet for almost a full minute. Eventually, Mr. Waverly said, "I want your report on my desk by morning."

"Yes, Sir."

Soon thereafter, the school was a blur of activity. While the ambulance Attendants stabilized Illya for transport to U.N.C.L.E.'s Medical Center, a Sweeper Team packed up every scrap of paper in hopes there might be information on the locations of enemy satraps, or perchance a list of THRUSH personnel.

 

However, in the calm before the storm...

 

"...thank you for the...kiss, Napoleon..." Illya said with a faint blush. "...it was a nice...distraction from my back..."

"If needed, there are plenty more where it came from," Solo smiled warmly.

"...maybe I could use...one more dose...?"

"I am at your service," the CEA said with a bob of his head. This time he prolonged the kiss, adding pressure to it. Adding *pleasure* to it.

When they finally parted, Illya's eyes were closed.

"...mmm..." he purred. "...that is exactly...what the Nurse ordered..."

Napoleon broke into laugher. Even though the blond Scientist could build a rocket to the moon, he could never quite master American slang.

"*God* how I love you," Solo said off the cuff.

Instantly, the whole world came to a stop. There wasn't a single sound to be heard as every molecule became sexually charged. And for a brief moment, they were the only two people left alive. For a brief moment, they were one...

"Mr. Solo!" someone shouted from the hallway.

"In here!" he yelled. "*Hurry!*"

At the last possible second, Napoleon impulsively gave Illya one more kiss.

"For the road," he said with a mischievous grin as the ambulance Attendants wheeled in a gurney and he was obliged to step out of the cramp cell.

Standing in the background, Napoleon was amazed by all that had happened. It was true; he'd been in love with his partner for months. Nevertheless, this wasn't the most appropriate time to mention it! He wished he knew how Illya felt about him, but he did seem to enjoy his kisses. And the pest did admit to stealing one of his sweatshirts.

'...because it is yours...'

As they started to wheel Illya to the ambulance, he caught sight of Napoleon and reached out a hand to him. Only when he felt its strength did he shut his eyes and give in to a drug induced sleep...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And that's all she wrote!

WEBPAGE: http://www.geocities.com/illyasgirl/

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author Sandra Esparza.
If this work is yours and you would like to reclaim ownership, you can click on the Technical Support and Feedback link at the bottom fo the page.