When Napoleon Met Illya

by nickovetch




You know, things used to be pretty tame here at Nicky's. I pretty much had the run of the house (and the people who lived there, of course).

All that changed (Napoleon says for the better. I don't say anything at all. It unnerves him.) when HE came back into my life.

My caretaker had been trolling the Internet on a place called eBay or some such nonsense name for something she had to have for some reason. She kept calling it NSAF and I hadn't a clue as to what it stood for. I reasonably assumed it was something scientific, like NASA, since my friend is a science fiction nut, er, fan. And she got so excited when she'd find one and place a bid. She also screamed like a banshee when she got outbid and lost every time. (She can be rather cheap, and I'm sure she held back on her maximum bid.)

I, of course, would pat her on the back and encourage her to try again. If it was so blasted important to her, I should at least appear to be sympathetic. Imagine my surprise when one day she upped her bid past her normally parsimonious limit and actually won her NSAF.

Well, she whooped and hollered and acted like she'd won the lottery.

I couldn't fathom the excitement and listened as she fired off emails confirming payment, and shipping details.

"Mine, mine, he's finally all mine!" she chortled gleefully. "That bastard Jacknbay didn't get this one!" I was shocked. I'd never heard her use such language before, especially with me in the room. Of course, her children were gone visiting their father (come to think of it, I had heard her use questionable language when referring to her ex-husband) and she could be a little looser now. It still didn't tell me who the "he" was.

Speaking of loose, I heard her refer to a sentence in the email about the NSAF being "loose" whatever that meant. You Americans never make much sense to me, anyway.

So I began my vigil on top of the couch waiting for the mysterious package to arrive. It was driving me out of my little, ah, curious Russian mind. Unfortunately for all concerned, Nicky won the bid just before the Columbus Day Weekend. No mail on Monday. Rats. Why you Americans have to celebrate so many holidays is beyond me. Columbus didn't discover America, anyway. Sergei Pomorov did. Every self-respecting Russian knows that. But I digress...

Back to the story. I refused to be moved from my solitary perch. Even the cat couldn't budge me. (I hate that cat, by the way. She does nothing all day, eats too much and takes up way too much of Nicky's budget. Hmm, sounds a little like me.)

Nicky tried, dear thing that she is. She tried pizza, Milk Duds, Oreos, but to no avail. I ate them, of course; I just didn't budge. Truthfully, I couldn't after all that junk food.

Finally the day arrived when the U.P.S. man placed a box in the door. I was off like a shot tugging on Nicky's leg, since the door handle was out of my reach, and the pizza had settled around my waist like an albatross, prohibiting my climbing the storm door.

Nicky yelled, "He's here!" and ripped the box open faster than the speed of light. Not knowing what to expect, I backed up and gave myself some room to navigate. What if it were another cat?

I saw her reverently lift something wrapped cocoon-like out of the shredded box. The cat jumped in the cardboard container straight away, of course, getting in the way once again. Did I tell you how much I hate that cat? She delicately unwound the bubble wrap and I strained to get a glimpse at the contents.

I saw first a dark head and then a denim-clad figure. A figure? Like me? My head spun with the ramifications. I'd have to share, I'd have to accommodate. I'd have to ... be with my partner again? I recognized the man in the box, after all. The world turned upside down and I fainted, ah, passed out.

When I woke, I felt gentle fingers rubbing my brow worriedly. "Illya? Illya, wake up, partner. I didn't mean to shock you like that. It has been a long time, hasn't it?"

I'd have recognized that purr of a voice anywhere. Even from flat on the linoleum (that the cat had puked on earlier, no doubt) that sweet baritone drifted over me in my dream. Dream? No, one doesn't usually faint dead away in a dream. I sat up and almost cold cocked Napoleon Solo with my forehead. He gave me one of his patented smiles and hugged me tightly. I opened my eyes and saw tears running down Nicky's face at the tender scene played out before her.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't believe how ugly Napoleon was. Did I say that? Not, ugly, no, that was too strong. Descriptive, but strong. He was just...harried from the trip. Yes, that was it. A little TLC and he'd be good as new. Better, hopefully. And stylish clothes would definitely help, too. Those jeans did not do Napoleon justice.

Nicky gathered us up and took us to the bath. She ran warm water in the sink and began stripping NSAF and myself. "Might as well give you both a bath. Illya, you're getting dirty from sitting near the printer ribbon again."

I turned my head discretely as we were revealed in all our AF glory. (I admit to peeking, however.) Napoleon hadn't changed in thirty-five years. How did he do it?

Nicky carefully washed us in baby soap and dried us thoroughly before leaving us bundled in a warm towel. The phone rang and she left us alone.

I gazed shyly at Napoleon and felt my cheeks turn red as I thought about how close our naked bodies were. Napoleon, being Napoleon, reached out and pulled me to him, saying, "How about a welcome home kiss, Illya?" I was shocked, but I didn't fight as he molded our shiny bodies together and captured my pouty lips in his. I was lost, irrevocably lost in him and heard the pounding of my heart in my eardrums. No, wait. It was Nicky pounding on the bathroom door.

"How did this door get locked? I know I left it open."

Napoleon smirked at me as he covered my blushing body with his. "It's been a long time, Illya. Too long..."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "He" was home again.

Even though Napoleon was rather...persistent...I couldn't relax enough with the constant banging, pounding and moaning going on. And that was just from Nicky.

Her strident cry of, "I want in this bathroom right now, misters!" grated on my nerves enough to disturb Napoleon, and he rolled off me with a disappointed sigh.

"Talk about lousy timing. Why couldn't kate call? She can talk for hours..."

We scrambled back into the towel and resumed our positions as Nicky pried the knob off the bathroom door and burst in. "There you guys are! I was worried something had happened to you."

"Not for lack of trying," Napoleon said under his breath. I elbowed him in the side.

"Let's get you dressed for now and then I'll go shopping and get you both some more suitable clothes. Get it, Napoleon? Suit-able?" She snorted at her own joke while I gave her my most haughty look. She caught it easily and replied, "Oh, don't worry, IK. I'll get something extra special for you, my love." I beamed at her.

After belting us in the mini-van (the maintenance-mobile as Nicky snidely calls it) we sped off for the local Wal-Mart and sartorial splendor.

"Wal-Mart?" Napoleon asked doubtfully. "Do they have Armani there?"

I patted his leg supportively. "Now, now, Napoleon. We have to make the best of the situation. They have their own line. I believe it's called 'Ken.'"

"Japanese?" he asked hopefully.

"Ah, something like that." I refused to comment more.

After parking in the lot, Nicky turned to us and said, "Now, boys, I'll just be a minute. Behave yourselves while I'm gone." A glance at me had her saying, "Now, don't pout, IK. You know when you come with me, we're there for hours."

She left the windows open and walked into the store.

I felt Napoleon's hand brushing along my thigh and I slapped it away. "Napoleon!" I scolded. "Nicky said to behave."

"I am behaving. I'm behaving perfectly normally for me."

Well, he did have a point there.

"Let me introduce you to the time-honored tradition of making out in the back seat, Illya." He covered my hand with his.

I relaxed a bit and turned to accept the kiss he offered to me. Napoleon leaned closer, closer, closer...

And choked on the restraint.

"Damn seat belts!" he cursed, unable to reach the release with his arms. I couldn't either and we squirmed ineffectually in the nylon straps.

I was reaching for my boot knife when Nicky returned with a sack in her arms.

"Hey, boys, did you miss me?" She slipped behind the wheel and smiled at us. "I have a surprise for you when we get home." She winked at me conspiratorially. She likes me best, of course. Who wouldn't? I mean, Napoleon has his charms, but I am, well, just me.

Arriving home, Nicky sat us on her bed and opened the blue plastic bag. Her eyes twinkling, she pulled out two perfectly proportioned tuxedos, one white and one black. I tried to cover up the 'Ken Doll Wedding Collection' sticker before Napoleon saw it. He didn't seem to notice, just raised his eyebrows approvingly at the new clothes.

"Naps, let's get you in the black one, shall we? It will set off your hair and eyes beautifully." Napoleon gazed admiringly at Nicky. "She certainly has good taste," he whispered to me as she put the set of eveningwear on his delicious body. I was enraptured.

It was my turn next and I was adorned in the stunning white tux that showed off my fairer features. "There. All done." Nicky stopped to admire her work and her breath caught in her throat. She set us in front of a floor length mirror and that's when I saw us, seemingly for the first time.

We were, simply put, gorgeous! I couldn't take my eyes off of Napoleon, and I heard him growl softly at my reflection. I blushed from my head to my stylish toes.

I heard the phone ring again and Nicky's answering exclamation of, "kate! How are you?" I grinned. Yes! There was a God! I looked at Napoleon, then looked at the bed, then looked at Napoleon. He smiled wolfishly at me.

It was a king-sized waterbed. Nuff said. Suffice it to say that we made waves. Lots of them. Repeatedly...can you say tsunami?

An hour and a half later Nicky came back to the room. We were back in front of the mirror by then, although much more weary.

She smiled at us, oohing and ahhing over our new look. She was about to leave the room when she turned with a puzzled look on her face.

"I could have sworn...I'm sure I put Napoleon in the black tux..."

I groaned inwardly. Napoleon rolled his eyes.

Well, sometimes even spies can make mistakes...

Scratching her head (which seemed to have more gray hairs lately) Nicky gathered us up, switched our tuxes back to their proper places, and carefully sat us on top of the laser printer. It was a position high enough to be almost regal, and it was out of the reach of the dreaded cat. I approved. Napoleon played footsie with me. He approved, too.

As our caretaker disappeared into the shower, I glanced at my companion. He grinned at me seductively and I had to admonish him. The cheek of the man! (Actually he has very nice cheeks. Two of them. Er, four. Very callipygian, if you get my drift.)

"Napoleon, really. Have you no shame? Nicky is right next door."

"Taking a shower and you know how long those can be. Plenty of time for us to re-enact Rocky IV-The American Meets The Russian."

"With you as Rocky? You flatter yourself."

"Well, comrade, you're not exactly Drago, yourself."

I looked at my svelte form and had to agree. "But Drago used steroids. I'm all man." I puffed out my chest to prove my point.

Napoleon scooted closer and growled in my ear. "Don't stick it out if you're not going to use it," he purred.

I looked down at his lap and noticed his point well taken. "I could say the same thing to you, moy droog."

Napoleon closed his eyes and shivered. "Illya, please. You know what your speaking Russian does to me..."

"Da, milok. Khorosho."

Napoleon took my arm and began placing tender kisses from my wrist to my shoulder, murmuring, "Querido. Caro mio. Molto bene."

What Russian does to Napoleon, Italian does to me. I would never admit that to Signore Solo, however, but the chills racing across my spine and the goose bumps popping up all over might have given him a clue.

He zeroed in on my neck. Yep, a brick don't have to fall on his head...

"Sei cosi bello. Ti amo. Vieni qui."

Another minute of this excruciating ecstasy and I would be helpless. I pushed him away and jumped off the printer to land on the keyboard.

He frowned at me and asked, "What do you think you're doing?"

I entered a command and climbed back on top of the machine. "All things will become clear," I said cryptically as I pulled Napoleon's eager form on top of mine.

A moment later the printer began to shake and rattle, spitting out a story I had seen Nicky writing. I grinned wickedly at my lover.

We were vibrating together on the warm and wild ride. It was better than Disneyland.

Napoleon leered back at me. "Ride 'em, cowboy!"

"Yee-haw," I answered, but a pair of very soft and very talented lips swallowed up my cry.

Go, Rocky...

Later

"Ahh, Napoleon. Yes, right there. That's the spot. Harder. Harder."

I moaned as he followed my command. My vision blurred and reality began to skew.

Napoleon panted in my ear with the exertion of his ministrations.

I groaned his name and leaned forward to grant him better access to my...

"Hey, why did you stop?" I pouted.

"I'm getting a cramp. We'll have to stop for a minute."

I grunted in dissatisfaction, "Now?! Are you kidding? We were almost there..."

"You were almost there, Illya. I'm the one with the cramp, and I'm the one doing all the work, in case you hadn't noticed."

Napoleon can be so needy. I decided if I wanted to get any more, I'd have to placate his ego.

"But, dushka moy, you are so good at it. That song, 'Nobody Does it Better' was written for you, lyubovnik." So was, "You're So Vain" but I wisely kept that to myself...

I wasn't done yet. I looked down at the floor with the best pout I could employ and slowly looked up at him zinging him with my baby blues under the fringe of blond bangs. It was my most powerful weapon and I wielded it with deadly precision.

"Please, Polya. For me?" I fluttered my wheat-colored lashes coyly at him and heard the lusty sigh breathe out of him. He growled, lunged, flipped me on my stomach and straddled my lithe body.

"All right, Illya, you win. Relax and enjoy the ride. Are you ready?"

I sighed a sound of pure happiness and contentment. "Of course, Napoleon. I'm always ready for your..."

I moaned again as his strong fingers kneaded me all over.

"Backrubs."




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