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Napoleon Solo, debonair man about town, hung up the phone after making a date with the stewardess from the flight they had just gotten back on. But his heart wasn’t in it. It hadn’t been for years, he just went through the motion because it was expected of him.
He looked over to where his partner was smiling and joking with the other agents in this big room. He thought back to when they had first met. Illya had been a skinny, somber, young man with lank blond hair and mistrustful eyes. He had hardly ever smiled and didn’t recognize a joke when he heard one. He had a shell around him that more or less shut everyone out, and if Napoleon was proud of anything, he was proud of the fact that he was partly responsible for the change.
It hadn’t happened overnight but with hard work on his part, his partner had slowly started to thaw. Suddenly he looked, really looked at Illya. He’d put on a little weight, on him it looked good. The hair was still blond, but now it glowed as did the eyes that were now alight with mischief. Illya had a very droll sense of humor, and when he smiled his face lit up.
Napoleon’s heart skipped a beat, and he had no earthly idea what his partner really thought or felt. When had he started taking his partner for granted? Assuming he’d always be there by his side, rescuing him when need be or being rescued in turn. He reached over and picked up the phone to cancel the date he had just made.
He walked over to his friend and partner and put his hand on his shoulder. “Tovarish, would you like to go somewhere for a drink?”
“I thought you had a date?” Illya responded looking pointedly at the phone on the table at the far side of the room.
He noticed, Napoleon thought as he said, “She said she had to wash her hair.” It wouldn’t do to tell the Russian that he had broken the date to be near him.
Illya’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “So the Solo charm is finally wearing thin,” he quipped, but he didn’t say no.
When Napoleon had congratulated each agent on his or her fine work on the assignment they had just wrapped up and started out the door, Illya was right behind him.
It felt right and it felt comfortable to walk down the hall in companionable silence and Napoleon had to resist the urge to reach for Illya’s hand and clasp it with his. He smiled as he pictured how funny they would look walking down this hall holding hands.
Later in a quiet corner of a bar sharing drinks, Napoleon sat staring at his Russian partner trying to memorize every line, every nuance of the man next to him.
Illya put down his drink. “Napoleon, why are you staring at me?”
“What would you say, if I said I wanted to kiss you?” Napoleon said softly and watched as his partner stiffened.
Illya looked around to see if they were being observed and said gruffly, “This is not a place to discuss this.” He got up and started for the door. Napoleon, after leaving money for the drinks and a tip, followed.
Illya opened the door to his apartment and ushered him in. Napoleon looked around as if taking it in for the first time. It was true that he’d only been here a few times. The apartment was small and sparsely furnished, but had a comfortable feel to it.
“Okay, where’s my partner and what have done with him?” Illya demanded with a glint in his eyes.
Napoleon smiled at the quip and sat down heavily in a comfortable chair. Illya stood over him, his arms folded in interrogation mode. So Napoleon told him the truth from beginning to end, baring his soul. He talked for what seemed like hours and Illya gradually went from standing, to squatting, to finally sitting on the floor Indian fashion. When he finished he looked at the man sitting in front of him, wondering what he was thinking.
Illya had never heard Napoleon talk this way before, usually everything, even on stakeouts, was light and superficial. He knew Napoleon was waiting for him to say something, so he said, “So you’re saying you want to have sex with me?”
Napoleon smiled, he could see where Illya would have gotten that idea, and a physical relationship would be an extra bonus, but he had to tell the truth. “What I really want is to cherish you. Cherish the man you are and the man you were. I want to get to know the man in here.” And he reached his hand to cover Illya’s heart.
Illya looked down at the hand on his chest and brought his hand to cover it. He was not ready to bare his soul, but what he could do he would. Looking deeply into Napoleon’s eyes he saw that Napoleon had meant everything he had said. “You said something about a kiss?” Moving from a sitting position to a kneeling one in front of Napoleon and with hands on either side of his head pulled Napoleon’s lips to his.