I put a Spell On You Chapter 8
May. 29th, 2012 02:40 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfulink to chapter 7:http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/61591.html
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Napoleon kicked off his shoes, opting not to shed his clothing as he was too drunk to care. He fell forward, nestlied himself in the soft down quilt, that covered his bed and closed his eyes, but sleep did not take him as quickly as it did his partner. His head was swimming from the scotch, and he lay there thinking about the things he and Illya had talked about over course of the night. He knew he’d have one hell of a hangover in when he woke up, the the price was worth it..
They discussed being both men of dedication not only to their job, but loyal to each other to a fault. Theirs was a trusting relationship beyond friendship, he knew that now. There was love between the two of them and they would go to the ends of the earth to protect each other. It was as simple as that, “love conquers all,“ he whispered. He definitely loved that stubborn Russian.
He hoped that calling Illya over and giving him reassurances had brought a bit of comfort for what he felt. Yet it was an answer he’d never know for sure as is his partner, no matter how close they’d become, was still enigmatic. Regardless, it was better than letting the man sit home alone, listening to those worn records of his and letting his melancholia overtake him again.
He knew Illya well enough in that respect, though the music was part of the place where he retreated to, it wasn’t good for him to go there too often when he was down. At least his partner was safe here and that, Napoleon thought, was the most important thing at the moment.
Tomorrow, or rather today would be another day; they’d head out on another assignment, just a little bit hung over and life for them would go on as it always had...saving the world one day at time. Discussion of what had happened on their last mission and Sylvae Toussant would not be brought up again.
Napoleon knew he’d done the right thing with his little ruse. He’d put a spell of sorts on the man, but Illya he supposed, did the same to him. Friendship and love had a way of doing that. This thought allowed him to finally close his eyes and drift off into a dreamless sleep.
A familiar communicator chirp called Napoleon awake with a start and looking at the clock on his night table he was surprised that it was eight in the morning.
“Good morning Mr. Solo. I trust you and Mr. Kuryakin will be able to report to headquarters in reasonable condition within the hour.” Waverly said.
“Yes sir.” Napoleon muttered, still suffering the after effects of too much scotch and not enough sleep.
“Good, then I will expect to see both of you in my office. I have an situation that needs your attention. Out.”
“Damn,” he muttered, how did he know Illya was here?” Napoleon crawled out of bed, put on a pot of coffee, hopped into the shower, dressed in a dark suit for a change and went to rouse his partner. Illya sober or drunk never took that long to get ready.
The guest bed was empty with no sign of his partner.
Napoleon’s communicator came to life again. “Solo here. “ He answered crisply, taking a gulp of black coffee.
“Good morning my friend,” Illya said, his voice sounded more upbeat. “Are you ready to go? I am waiting in a taxi in front of your building.”
Napoleon scratched his head. ”How the hell...” he started to say. “Forget
it, never mind. I’m on my way,” He closed his communicator .
Illay greeting him brightly when he arrived and slipped into the back seat of the car.
Napoleon peered at his partner’s face, taking note that he looked rested and refreshed. “Hey, why is it I feel and look like crap and you don’t even look like you had a drink last night?”
“As I told you no self-respecting Russian gets drunk on vodka...or at least admits to it.” He snickered. “I was however very, very...relaxed.”
“But why no hangover?”
“Napoleon we Russians are raised on vodka, I drank it when I was a child, and developed a tolerance for it.”
“Oh so that’s your secret?” Napoleon laughed.
“Shhhush. Do not tell anyone.” Illya whispered.” I have a reputation to uphold.”
Napoleon was shocked, Illya Kuryakin, the man of mystery, had just freely given up one of his little secrets. “Perhaps that talk had done some good after all?”
”Don’t worry tovarisch, your secrets will always be safe with me, Scouts honor.” Napoleon made a sign of the cross over his heart but refrained from saying ‘cross my heart and hope to die.’
“I know.” The Russian let free a crooked smile.”Now shall we go save the world?”
FINIS
They discussed being both men of dedication not only to their job, but loyal to each other to a fault. Theirs was a trusting relationship beyond friendship, he knew that now. There was love between the two of them and they would go to the ends of the earth to protect each other. It was as simple as that, “love conquers all,“ he whispered. He definitely loved that stubborn Russian.
He hoped that calling Illya over and giving him reassurances had brought a bit of comfort for what he felt. Yet it was an answer he’d never know for sure as is his partner, no matter how close they’d become, was still enigmatic. Regardless, it was better than letting the man sit home alone, listening to those worn records of his and letting his melancholia overtake him again.
He knew Illya well enough in that respect, though the music was part of the place where he retreated to, it wasn’t good for him to go there too often when he was down. At least his partner was safe here and that, Napoleon thought, was the most important thing at the moment.
Tomorrow, or rather today would be another day; they’d head out on another assignment, just a little bit hung over and life for them would go on as it always had...saving the world one day at time. Discussion of what had happened on their last mission and Sylvae Toussant would not be brought up again.
Napoleon knew he’d done the right thing with his little ruse. He’d put a spell of sorts on the man, but Illya he supposed, did the same to him. Friendship and love had a way of doing that. This thought allowed him to finally close his eyes and drift off into a dreamless sleep.
A familiar communicator chirp called Napoleon awake with a start and looking at the clock on his night table he was surprised that it was eight in the morning.
“Good morning Mr. Solo. I trust you and Mr. Kuryakin will be able to report to headquarters in reasonable condition within the hour.” Waverly said.
“Yes sir.” Napoleon muttered, still suffering the after effects of too much scotch and not enough sleep.
“Good, then I will expect to see both of you in my office. I have an situation that needs your attention. Out.”
“Damn,” he muttered, how did he know Illya was here?” Napoleon crawled out of bed, put on a pot of coffee, hopped into the shower, dressed in a dark suit for a change and went to rouse his partner. Illya sober or drunk never took that long to get ready.
The guest bed was empty with no sign of his partner.
Napoleon’s communicator came to life again. “Solo here. “ He answered crisply, taking a gulp of black coffee.
“Good morning my friend,” Illya said, his voice sounded more upbeat. “Are you ready to go? I am waiting in a taxi in front of your building.”
Napoleon scratched his head. ”How the hell...” he started to say. “Forget
it, never mind. I’m on my way,” He closed his communicator .
Illay greeting him brightly when he arrived and slipped into the back seat of the car.
Napoleon peered at his partner’s face, taking note that he looked rested and refreshed. “Hey, why is it I feel and look like crap and you don’t even look like you had a drink last night?”
“As I told you no self-respecting Russian gets drunk on vodka...or at least admits to it.” He snickered. “I was however very, very...relaxed.”
“But why no hangover?”
“Napoleon we Russians are raised on vodka, I drank it when I was a child, and developed a tolerance for it.”
“Oh so that’s your secret?” Napoleon laughed.
“Shhhush. Do not tell anyone.” Illya whispered.” I have a reputation to uphold.”
Napoleon was shocked, Illya Kuryakin, the man of mystery, had just freely given up one of his little secrets. “Perhaps that talk had done some good after all?”
”Don’t worry tovarisch, your secrets will always be safe with me, Scouts honor.” Napoleon made a sign of the cross over his heart but refrained from saying ‘cross my heart and hope to die.’
“I know.” The Russian let free a crooked smile.”Now shall we go save the world?”
FINIS
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Date: 2012-05-29 07:57 pm (UTC)