MFU: Invalid

[wildernesstales]

Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Illya/Napoleon
Summary: Illya proves that he’s not an invalid, despite being injured.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case, MGM and all the others… I just borrow them every now and then :) And I promise to give them back… eventually!  Feedback makes friends!
Author's Notes:  Written for the 2011 Easter Egg gift exchange on mfuwss .  This is for charismaz.  Why is it characters like to jump  from story to story?  And I’m not as happy with this as I wish I was, but it’s done!
 

“I can’t believe you managed that.” Napoleon shook his head.
“Be quiet.”
“But I just can’t see how you managed to do that, doing…” Illya held up his hand, or more precisely, his arm, as the cast didn’t actually allow him to move his hand much.
“Please, be quiet.  I do not need reminding on how I did this.” He paused.  “Besides, it’s your fault anyway.”
“My fault?  How do you figure that?” Illya just stared at Napoleon, as though willing him to remember.  As he watched, Napoleon’s face fell.  “You don’t mean?”  Illya nodded.
“Last night, yes.”
“I…” Illya held up his hand.
“Don’t say you’re sorry, because neither of us were at the time.”
“True.” Napoleon could allow that much.  That they’d been involved in something that didn’t require thinking was neither here nor there.  Really…

“But, suffice to say, I will not be able to do much until it heals.”
“Of course.” If Napoleon was disappointed, he didn’t show it.  “Just means I get to take care of you.”
Illya feigned a look of horror.
“Oh please.  My cooking’s not that bad.”
“That’s because you don’t cook.  You order take-out and pretend you’ve cooked it.” Illya shook his head.  “But I am willing to let you look after me, if you feel you need to.  But I assure you, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
“Oh, believe me, partner mine, I know you are.”  Illya didn’t say anything, he just smiled.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Two days into his enforced sick leave, and Illya was going stir crazy.  His hand injury meant that there was little he could do without aggravating it, meaning that he would then end up spending longer off work, and more time in physiotherapy.
“I can’t write, I can’t read… I can’t even play.” Illya complained to Napoleon, glaring at the saxophone sitting unused in the corner of the room.
“Or shave.” Napoleon added, looking at the stubble on Illya’s face.
“I may be ambidextrous, but I am not willing to attempt shaving unless I need to.  And as I am on ‘sick-leave’, I do not need to.”
“I could…”
“No!” Illya hastily interrupted him.  “It is fine, Napoleon…” He tried to reassure his lover, who now looked a little downcast at the lack of trust Illya had displayed.
“Well, you’ll need to shave.” Napoleon sniffed, the slight filed away and forgotten about.  “I’ve got you off the sick list and back into action.” Illya visibly perked up.
“You have?”
“Nothing too strenuous.  Rob would have my teeth for cufflinks if I let you out on anything too dangerous.  But a simple courier run shouldn’t be too difficult in your condition.” Illya’s eyes narrowed at the mention of Rob Greene, the head doctor at Headquarters.
“Fine.” Standing up, Illya moved to the bathroom, fully intending to freshen up and head into the office with Napoleon.

Napoleon followed him.  And proceeded to get him cleaned up, undressed, shaved, cleaned up again, thoroughly ravished, cleaned up and dressed.

It was well over an hour before they even thought about making the journey into the office.  And the two little nicks on Illya’s neck from Napoleon ‘helping’ him shave were hardly noticeable.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What do we have here?”  Illya cursed his luck.  He should have known that as soon as Napoleon said the words ‘simple courier run’, that it would be anything but.
“If you really need me to explain it to you, Thrush are struggling for recruits.” Illya snarked, heedless of the gun pointed at him.  Foolishly, they had taken one look at the cast on his hand and thought they didn’t need to search him.  And somehow, they didn’t seem to know who he was.  Which actually made a nice change.  Incognito suited him.
“Just give us the information and we’ll make it quick.”
“Why would I give you the information?”
“Because there’s two of us and only one of you.  And you’re injured.” The Thrush agent sneered.  Illya shook his head, annoyed that they seemed to think that he was incapable of defending himself.  But of course, they didn’t know who he was.  Perhaps if they did, they might be a bit more wary approaching him.   Of course, if they knew who he was, he would have already been knocked unconscious and taken in for questioning.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 “A clean-up crew?  Illya, it was a simple courier run.”
“Simple until I encountered two Thrush agents determined to get the information I was carrying.”
“And…” Illya could hear Napoleon wincing over the communicator.
“I dealt with them.”
“Illya!”
“I am fine.  And no, before you ask, I am not going to medical to confirm that.  I do not need to.”
“Fine.  But you do realise that Rob will hear about this, right?”
“Napoleon, I prefer your teeth in your mouth, not adorning Rob Greene’s shirt cuffs.”
“My hero…” Illya snorted.
“Just send the clean-up crew.” He repeated before turning the communicator off and turning to look at the two unconscious Thrush agents at his feet.  He rubbed over the cast on his hand, wondering how long it would be before Napoleon noticed the crack running through it and dragged him into medical to get it replaced.