Dedicated to MLaw for her excellent beta work.
"Please Napoleon! I can't take it much longer!"
They had returned to their hotel room directly after their escape from the warehouse. Just a last minute, seat of their pants escape; minutes before they were about to be executed by T.H.R.U.S.H.
Solo wasn't even aware of his partner's injury until Illya eased himself down onto the bed and moaned.
"You really need to let me to take you to a hospital. How can you ask me to do this? I'm not a doctor."
"I won't go to any hospital," Kuryakin hissed through the pain.
Napoleon knew his partner had been injured many times before while fighting the enemy and always hated to be at the mercy of U.N.C.L.E.'s physicians, let alone unfamiliar ones.
This was not the first time Illya had asked him to tend to an injury, and it would certainly not be the last.
The American cut away trousers and briefs seeing no other way to get around it. Pulling them off would cause even more discomfort.
"I can't stand it any longer! Just dig it out!" His plea sounded desperate..
Napoleon reached for the last of the Scotch, unscrewed the cap and took a long swallow.
"Napoleon!"
"Just to steady my nerves...and to sterilize the wound," he added quickly and poured the rest of the germ-killing liquid over the area.
Kuryakin yelled rather loudly, but into the pillow so the other hotel guests would not be alarmed.
He was in tears now. His upper lip as well as his forehead were beaded with perspiration as he grabbed ahold of the sheets, needing something to hang to; to anchor himself against what was coming.
When it was all over, Solo applied some antibiotic ointment and a bandaid.
"Biggest splinter I've ever removed from a butt!" he said; examining the four-inch long wonder.
Illya just grumbled under his breath, "Why do these things always happen to be me?"