Napoleon stared up at the ceiling and tried to ease the burning in his shoulders. Stretched out spread-eagled and buck naked across the table top was not his idea of a good time. Neither was having a cocktail of drugs pumped into his bloodstream his idea of effective torture. At least THRUSH had had the decency to toss a towel over his genitals before they left, Napoleon assumed, to let the drugs do their magic.

He looked over to the right and blinked as the wallpaper started to shift in front of his eyes. Half of it moved up, the other half moved down. After a moment, Napoleon felt his stomach start to complain and, abruptly queasy, he shifted his view to that of the other wall and caught his breath.

Something… someone? was standing there. Two dimensional and looking like a caricature of Illya, the figure studied him with large blue eyes. A thatch of blond hair fell over its eyes and the gesture that raked it back was pure Illya. It was holding papers, which it dropped when it realized Napoleon could see it.

"Uh, hello?" Napoleon felt as if he had a mouth full of marbles. "Illya?"

The head tilted and Napoleon suddenly realized the figure had no mouth. That was sad; he didn't like the idea of an Illya with no mouth, especially since Illya's mouth was so…lovely.

Where had that thought come from? Napoleon blinked his eyes furiously at the figure, which merely blinked back and took a step closer. Napoleon cleared his throat and returned to staring up at the ceiling.

Angels were looking down at him and he wasn't at all surprised that one looked just like Sophia Loren and another just like his devil of a partner. Both were wearing halos and looking as if they were having decidedly un-angel like thoughts as they studied his current state of undress.

"Illya - an angel, there's an oxymoron for you," Napoleon muttered and jumped as something touched his arm.

The blond figure, the cartoon Illya, frowned and followed Napoleon's arm down to the strap that secured it. Napoleon had struggled enough to rub his wrists raw, but the straps hadn't given an inch. As Cartoon Illya examined the restraint, Napoleon realized the figure had no fingers either.

A fat lot of good that is going to do, he thought and glanced back up at the angels. They were having a slap fest and it looked as if Angel Sophia was bitch slapping the hell out of Angel Illya. Probably deserved it.

Still, Cartoon Illya studied the restraint, trying vainly to work the buckles. Then with sad blue eyes, it shook its head slowly.

"It was good of you to try," Napoleon mumbled. One of Angel Sophia's breasts tumbled free from her heavenly white gown and Angel Illya was showing an incredible amount of leg. Whichever sight started it, Napoleon's penis decided it was time to wake up.

"Down, boy," Napoleon tried to sound harsh, but his lips were having their own party. He glanced back up. Angel Sophia had found a 2 x 4, but Angel Illya had a mace… As inciting as it was to watch the two circle each other, Napoleon was aware of something soft brushing his hair back.

Cartoon Illya looked as concerned as something without lips or nose could look. The eyebrows were knitted together and even without speech, Napoleon could tell the little fella was distressed.

The battle on the ceiling was progressing and Napoleon had a grand view up Angel Illya's gown. Imagine angels going commando… there out to be a law. Napoleon's penis perked right up and tossed the towel aside. More good news...

Cartoon Illya moved down the table and picked up the towel, but was obviously transfixed by Napoleon's penis as it looked around the room, apparently ready for a little action.

"Not now!" Napoleon ordered, craning his head up in an attempt to stare down his penis, something doomed to fail as sexual organs have no eyes and a mind of their own.

He nearly screamed when something smooth clamped onto his dick and began moving up and down. "Illya, what the hell are you doing? There are angels present!"

Said angels, both looking a bit worse for the wear,,were apparently taking bets from other angels who had joined them on to who would win. Attention seemed to be split between the wrestling match and what was going on down on the table.. Oh, God, he was going to be jacked off by a mouthless, fingerless representation of his partner and watched over by angels. He looked to the left and the wallpaper was still spinning, occasionally losing a flower in the process. They laid, spread out on the floor, like some sort of offering to the tabled Napoleon.

"No, no, no, no!" Napoleon moaned. This was so wrong… not the thought of sex with his partner, that would be ball breaking, but not this. Not like this... "Illya, don't!" The hands slowed, then picked up speed and Napoleon's head thunked backwards and his eyes screwed shut. If he didn't do something now it would be too… "ILLYA!"

Napoleon screamed the name so loudly that his vision blurred and his brain thumped painfully against his skull, desperate to get away from the noise. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he was going to black out or climax, then he heard, "Napoleon?"

Carefully, he peeked out and let out a huge sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

"Or at least the ears of the assault force," Illya mumbled, He pulled off his jacket and draped it over Napoleon's mid section. Napoleon managed to get his head off the table and was relieved to see that his penis had gone into hiding. He became aware of fingers moving on his wrists, freeing first one hand and then the other. Whether it was the effect of the drugs or just the sheer relief of being able to move again, Napoleon wrapped his arms around Illya, dragging him down to the table. For a moment, Illya struggled against his arms, then relaxed. He slipped his own arms around Napoleon and helped him from the table.

Napoleon glanced over at the left wall. It had lost all its flowers and looked a bit forlorn. Cartoon Illya had gathered up the papers he'd dropped and had the look of a grand sulk starting. Overhead, Angel Sophia had Angel Illya draped over her shoulder. She straightened a halo that had been nearly bent in two and gave Napoleon a two fingered salute.

"Hey, are you okay?" Illya's voice was soft in his ear and Napoleon pulled away from him.

"You have lips." He reached out and touched Illya's mouth. He permitted it for a moment.

"Yes and I'd say you are having the trip of a lifetime. Your eyes are very dilated." Illya turned Napoleon's head slightly to get a better view and Napoleon's hand came up to cover his.

"And fingers."

"When last I checked." Napoleon brought Illya's hand to his mouth and kissed his fingers. Illya swallowed and slowly pulled his hand out of Napoleon's grip. "You need to stop now."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Then I shall make you."

"Make me? I'd love you to make me…" Napoleon's consciousness decided it was game over that the moment and he tipped forward. Part of his brain shouted instructions for impact, but it never came.

"Napoleon, can you hear me?"

"Yes," he murmured and opened his eyes. No longer in the THRUSH hideout, he was now in the familiar surroundings of Medical, which was happily devoid of dancing wallpaper and blood thirsty cherubs.

"How do you feel?"

"With my fingers?"

"You're fine." Illya grinned at him. "You gave us quite a scare, Napoleon." He held out a glass with a straw and positioned it properly. Napoleon couldn't remember when water tasted so good or so sweet. He swore he was going to drink a gallon of it every day.

"What happened?"

"THRUSH gave you a pretty potent cocktail. Do you remember anything?" Illya returned the glass to the small nightstand.

Not anything, he remembered all of it, the angels, the Cartoon Illya, the wallpaper, and he looked into his partner's concerned blue eyes and smiled. "Not really," he lied. "I do remember just being happy to see you."

"Yes, you… propositioned me all the way back to Headquarters. You kept talking about my lips and fingers for some reason."

Napoleon looked down at the hand resting now on his arm and smiled. "They really are very nice fingers and lips." And Napoleon could swear he heard laughing from Above.