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section7mfuPrompt: Illya and Napoleon are finished with a mission that has ended well, but with a slight complication for one of them.
Note: Meant to be a follow-up to the oneshot I posted yesterday. As such, it’s meant to take place very early in the partnership.
“Well,” Napoleon sighed, as he sat down on the steps just outside the apartment building that he and Illya shared. “Not a bad day’s work—wouldn’t you agree, Tovarisch?”
“Da,” Illya said, sitting down beside him. “Stopping a THRUSH satrap right here in New York—in record time, at that.”
“Mr. Waverly will be pleased with the almost nonexistent expense report,” Napoleon agreed. “Just the subway fare this time? I think that evens things out after what happened in Rio.”
“Not just the subway fare; you also have a laundry bill,” Illya reminded him, and he looked to his left to see his partner, still soaking wet. “I am sorry you fell into the Hudson River while you were grappling with that THRUSH grunt.”
“Not half as sorry as I am,” Napoleon said, woefully. “I lost my keys in the river.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you chose to sit here instead of going to your apartment to change into dry clothes,” Illya said.
“Exactly,” Napoleon sighed. “I’d try to pick my own lock, but I’d end up falling into the trap I set for anyone else who tried that. Getting an electric charge while soaking wet wouldn’t end well.”
“And you cannot shoot the lock out—not after what happened the last time…”
Napoleon winced at the memory. His ears had continued ringing for hours after their landlady had finished yelling at him. And not even Illya had been spared from the diatribe, as she suspected him of giving Napoleon the idea of shooting the door open in the first place—which he admittedly had suggested.
“Well,” Illya said, standing up. “Fortunately, I still have my keys.”
“How nice for you.”
“…That was an invitation, Napoleon. Did you really think I’d let you sit out here all night—especially when you helped me get this apartment in the first place? Come inside, and I’ll see if I can find something of mine that fits you. There’s no point in you sleeping on the steps; you look like a drowned rat, sitting there.”
“I feel like one,” Napoleon mused, but he took the hand that was offered to him and got to his feet.
“Pity this satrap here didn’t have anything to do with the Baron,” Illya sighed, as he led the way inside.
“We’ll get him,” Napoleon vowed. “Rio may have been expensive, but it was fruitful.”
“That it was,” Illya said, as he unlocked the door to his apartment.
“Illya?”
“Da?”
“Thanks.”
“This is nothing,” Illya insisted. “You would have done the same for me. Now stand there while I find something for you to wear; I don’t want you tracking water all over my floor!”
Napoleon chuckled and, soon, Illya returned with a spare set of pajamas. Only the bottoms ended up fitting him, but at least it was something; he left the tight top unbuttoned and left his wet clothes in the bathroom as he returned to find Illya setting out two bowls of instant soup on his coffee table.
Napoleon may not have thought a partner to be necessary initially, but, as he greedily drank down the soup, he had to admit that a partner was a good thing to have after all.
Note: Meant to be a follow-up to the oneshot I posted yesterday. As such, it’s meant to take place very early in the partnership.
“Well,” Napoleon sighed, as he sat down on the steps just outside the apartment building that he and Illya shared. “Not a bad day’s work—wouldn’t you agree, Tovarisch?”
“Da,” Illya said, sitting down beside him. “Stopping a THRUSH satrap right here in New York—in record time, at that.”
“Mr. Waverly will be pleased with the almost nonexistent expense report,” Napoleon agreed. “Just the subway fare this time? I think that evens things out after what happened in Rio.”
“Not just the subway fare; you also have a laundry bill,” Illya reminded him, and he looked to his left to see his partner, still soaking wet. “I am sorry you fell into the Hudson River while you were grappling with that THRUSH grunt.”
“Not half as sorry as I am,” Napoleon said, woefully. “I lost my keys in the river.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“Why you chose to sit here instead of going to your apartment to change into dry clothes,” Illya said.
“Exactly,” Napoleon sighed. “I’d try to pick my own lock, but I’d end up falling into the trap I set for anyone else who tried that. Getting an electric charge while soaking wet wouldn’t end well.”
“And you cannot shoot the lock out—not after what happened the last time…”
Napoleon winced at the memory. His ears had continued ringing for hours after their landlady had finished yelling at him. And not even Illya had been spared from the diatribe, as she suspected him of giving Napoleon the idea of shooting the door open in the first place—which he admittedly had suggested.
“Well,” Illya said, standing up. “Fortunately, I still have my keys.”
“How nice for you.”
“…That was an invitation, Napoleon. Did you really think I’d let you sit out here all night—especially when you helped me get this apartment in the first place? Come inside, and I’ll see if I can find something of mine that fits you. There’s no point in you sleeping on the steps; you look like a drowned rat, sitting there.”
“I feel like one,” Napoleon mused, but he took the hand that was offered to him and got to his feet.
“Pity this satrap here didn’t have anything to do with the Baron,” Illya sighed, as he led the way inside.
“We’ll get him,” Napoleon vowed. “Rio may have been expensive, but it was fruitful.”
“That it was,” Illya said, as he unlocked the door to his apartment.
“Illya?”
“Da?”
“Thanks.”
“This is nothing,” Illya insisted. “You would have done the same for me. Now stand there while I find something for you to wear; I don’t want you tracking water all over my floor!”
Napoleon chuckled and, soon, Illya returned with a spare set of pajamas. Only the bottoms ended up fitting him, but at least it was something; he left the tight top unbuttoned and left his wet clothes in the bathroom as he returned to find Illya setting out two bowls of instant soup on his coffee table.
Napoleon may not have thought a partner to be necessary initially, but, as he greedily drank down the soup, he had to admit that a partner was a good thing to have after all.
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Date: 2016-02-21 09:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-02-22 02:43 am (UTC)