By Clarity Scifiroots
Fandom: Man from UNCLE / A-TeamPairing: Napoleon/Illya
Summary: Napoleon is decidedly unhappy with the latest assignment he's been handed. (Works well as a prequel to last night's story "Under Wraps")
For the very old and still unfilled nakeisha request for an established relationship NS/IK relationship
Fifteenth day of June!Fic! Officially halfway through!
Edited July 3, 2006
Napoleon Solo stood outside his front door for a long time, staring blankly at the wall, seeing nothing. The set of his shoulders was tense. In a fisted hand he clenched the thin envelope with his directions for the next evening.
His door suddenly opened, revealing a blond man shrugging into a coat. Upon seeing Napoleon, he paused. "I was going to look for you. How long have you been standing here?"
Napoleon closed his eyes in defeat. "Let's go in," he said quietly, slipping past the blonde.
"Napasha?" Illya Kuryakin closed the door as he watched his lover carefully.
Immediately fixing himself a drink, Napoleon dropped the crumpled envelope on the counter and shrugged out of his jacket and loosened his tie. It wasn't until his drink was halfway finished that he could speak. "I'm going on assignment. I can't believe it, but those bastards are putting me on a long-term case!"
Illya approached with a patient look. "Calm down," he suggested gently. "Can you tell me about the mission? How long will it take?"
Napoleon glared in disgust at the envelope. "More than a year, they can't be sure—that about covers preparations." He met his lover's gaze and seemed to deflate. "I have no idea how long I'll be gone or where I'll be. I have to establish contacts and assume the persona of a man who's never existed."
"Why?" Illya placed his hand on Napoleon's jaw and stroked it comfortingly with his thumb.
"Those who hold power know how tenuous their grasp is. Any little thing that can upset that seems more dangerous than ever before. There's a small group—a team, actually—out there that's making a lot of people nervous. The US military has been after them for over a decade already, but they're not the only ones." He sighed and let Illya guide him to a seat on the couch. "The military want to convict and execute them for a crime they likely never intentionally committed, various parties would like revenge, and others would be happy simply to have them dead. Of course we at UNCLE want them alive and well."
Illya nodded in acknowledgement, reserving judgment.
"To save them we'll have to make the world believe they're dead." Napoleon ran a hand over his hair tiredly. "Not that these men will sit by quietly under our protection. So it's been decided that I get to keep an eye on them... by giving them missions and keeping them preoccupied." He snorted dismissively.
Illya rubbed his lover's shoulders with care. "You know it's important, Napoleon, or you wouldn't be assigned. We've survived through missions more complicated and life-threatening that this."
With a sour smile, Napoleon countered, "Not in a long time—not since you moved in."
"I know," Illya said quietly. He stopped the massage and guided Napoleon to face him. "But it will be all right. I trust you to stay in touch as often as you'll be able to." He lightly kissed his lover's lips. "And I'll insist on some equally complicated assignment to keep myself occupied," he added with a slight grin. "When do you leave?"
Napoleon clenched his jaw in anger. "Tomorrow evening."
Illya nodded regretfully. "Alright."
"I'm so sorry," Napoleon apologized, bringing up his hands to frame Illya's face. "I don't want to leave. This is my home... you are my home."
"As you are mine. You are never far from my heart, Napasha."
Napoleon kissed him firmly. When they parted, he pulled back only slightly to speak. "Wait for me, my friend?"
Illya brushed his fingers through Napoleon's hair. "Of course. Haven't I always?" He smiled. "I won't let you slip away."
"I wish I knew when I'd be back..."
"There's time for that later. Let us enjoy the day before you have to leave."
Two-and-a-half years later
A familiar touch brushed Stockwell's elbow and he turned his head, surprised to see his friend and lover standing at his side. Illya smirked knowingly at him. "I see things went well."
"They have at that."
The blonde inclined his head towards the rejoicing teammates. "You'll have to introduce me before you get rid of them."
Snorting quietly, Hunt Stockwell—Napoleon Solo—guided his friend down the hall and towards the exit. "Let's have some dinner, I doubt my presence will be welcome here."
"Turned off that old charm, I see. Regrettable," Illya commented. He smiled sidelong at his friend, amusement and love dancing in his eyes.