To Hot, Hot, Hot to Handle

Napoleon entered the cafeteria to find his partner at the table with a half eaten bowl of chili in front of him. The Russian was shoveling it up as fast as he could without even looking up from the report he was reading.

"That must be good, maybe I'll order some. It's been a long time since I had homemade chili." Napoleon thought not realizing that he spoke out loud.

"I do not recommend ordering it. It is not something you will enjoy." Illya said between bites still not looking up.

"Oh so now you know what I like or don't like? You seem to be enjoying your pretty much." Napoleon pointed out. He called the waitress ordering a large bowl.

"You will be sorry. It is very spicy."

After it was delivered to the table, Napoleon ignored Illya warning and took a large spoon full swallowing quickly. All of a sudden he grabbed the water in front of him emptying the glass then grabbed Illya's doing the same.

"You could have warned me." The American managed to squeeze out, in a whisper, tears running down his face.

"What is it you American say? Oh yes, I remember now. I told you that it was too hot to handle." Illya grinned reaching for Napoleon now abandoned bowl.

/

Saying nothing Illya handed his partner an ice pack for his swollen face but his smirk made up for his lack of words. Finally it became too hard to keep quiet. He began to open his mouth but stopped when Napoleon warned.

"Don't go there."

"I was only going to ask how she managed to do that to you." He laughed while pointing to the black eye and swollen nose his partner was wearing.

"It wasn't her it was her older brother. He didn't appreciate me telling her I ran out of gas."

"Really Napoleon. That is the oldest excuse in the book."

"But it's was true," Napoleon insisted. "Thrush shot a hole in the gas tank we were using to escape their prison."

The look Illya gave him suggested he didn't believe a word.

"It was cold and dark. We were wet from the rain that came in through the shot-out front window. It wouldn't have made sense to walk in the forest surround where the car stopped while Thrush could still be looking for us. So we pushed it off the road and stayed with it. When we didn't meet up with you and her brother, he came looking for us. He found us huddled together in the back seat for warmth."

"Really Napoleon? You should know better by now. Brothers are very protective of their sisters."

"Look Illya if you can't say something nice, then don't say anything."

"One of your American idioms that fit this situation perfectly. This girl was just too hot to handle."

Groaning Napoleon turned his back ice pack still in place.

/

Napoleon laid on the ground under a pile of rubble waiting to be dug out. He could see his partner pacing as the men worked as quickly as possible to release him. Illya stopped pacing and bent down.

"Napoleon I am sorry. I really thought I could disarm it before it went off." A rare plea heard in his voice.

See the Russian looking at him through the opening in the stones, he frowned at him. "I warned you that the Thrush agent had been messing with the timer. But no you just had to do it ,didn't you. Can't you ever follow orders?"

"I believed..." Illya began.

One of the rescuers spoke up stopping him from finishing before turning to Napoleon.

"Sir could you let us get you out of here before you give him a dressing down. Mr. Kuryakin you need to move. You're in our way."

Illya stepped back, letting them finish.

As Napoleon was lifted onto the gurney, Illya said. "Are you okay?"

Glaring at his partner, Napoleon grimaced in pain. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me. I told you we needed to get out before the bomb went off. I thought you were right behind me. But no, I had to come back in to rescue your butt." With that he signaled to be taken to the ambulance.

Just as they were putting Napoleon in, he called out to Illya. "Next time I tell you something is too hot to handle I hope you will leave it alone."