He glanced up at her as she sat down beside him. Ruth something, he thought. After awhile the Innocents sort of all bled one into the other.

"Where's Napoleon?" She was plain and a bit on the plump side. Definitely not Napoleon's type. Not when he has a very exotic and sumptuous alternative. Illya returned his concentration to his highball glass. The vodka was disappearing out of it at an alarming rate and still he remained sober. He sighed and signaled the bartender.

"He went off to discuss something with Veronica."

"I can only guess what the topic will be, knowing her." Ruth drew herself up and adopted a vaporous look. "But, Napoleon, Ah just don't know what Ah'm gonna do if you don't kiss me. Poor Napoleon, my sister is no more Southern than you are and as for sharing her charms, not so much. I tried to tell him but he couldn't see past her cup size, I suppose." She giggled at Illya's slightly shocked expression and shook her head. "They say good things come to those who wait, but it seems to me they aren't the ones having all the fun these days."

The bartender appeared and Illya glanced at her. "What would you like?"

"A Cosmo, please?"

"Cosmo and a double, coming up." The man went away and Illya drained the rest of his glass.

"I would have to agree with your assessment."

"So here we sit, two home bodies."

"It could be worse; we are two live homebodies." The drinks appeared and Illya pushed hers closer before raising his. "You did very well back there."

"I was of no help at all with Veronica blubbering like that."

"You kept her away from Napoleon and that was very helpful indeed. For that I thank you."

They drank in companionable silence for a few minutes and Ruth sighed again. "Why are you drinking tonight instead of finding your own date?"

"Soviets drink for three reasons: to get warm, to get happy or to forget."

"Which one applies to you?"

"Haven't decided yet."

"What are you looking for in a woman, Illya?"

That made him blink and sit back to study her. "Excuse me?"

"I had a lot of time to watch the two of you and I got a pretty good bead on Napoleon. He wants a woman who is beautiful, obtainable, and malleable to his charms. You I haven't figured out yet."

"Possibly because I am not looking for a woman." He patted his chest with a flattened hand. "Yet somehow, they always seem to find me." He gave her the smallest of smiles.

"Hmm, not the answer I was expecting."

"That's me, unpredictable and a renegade."

"And I think I'm a little drunk. Would you walk me back to my room?"

"Of course." Illya pulled some bills from his money clip and dropped them on the bar. He nodded to the bartender and guided Ruth from the room, an almost proprietary hand on the small of her back.

She fumbled for her key and then froze, her ear pressed to the door.

"What's wrong?"

"I think there's someone in my room."

"Veronica?"

"She got her own room. She said my snoring was keeping her awake."

"Then I wish her luck with Napoleon." Illya tapped the bridge of his nose. "He's had it broken one or two times too many." He slid his P-38 out of its holster and nodded. "Open the door and stay here."

Quietly, Illya moved into the room and glanced around. There wasn't much to the room, a bed, a small table with a chair, a closet with a coat hanging in it and the bathroom. It was here that Illya headed, flicking on the lights and ducking to one side, in case. But there was nothing.

"It looks as if your room is…" Illya trailed off at the sight of Ruth leaning up against her hotel room door, a look of intent on her face.

"What antics a woman has to go through just to get you in her room. What does it take to get you to kiss her?"

"She has to ask." Illya holstered his gun and walked up to her, brushing a hand carelessly through his hair.

"Please?"

Illya placed a hand to either side of her head and leaned in, touched his lips to hers, almost hesitantly at first, then with more certainty. Almost immediately, Ruth's fingers were tangled in his hair, trapping his head even as her mouth opened to his.

He touched his tongue to her lips, her teeth, still braced against the wall, still keeping distance between their bodies even as it became more and more apparent that she craved the contact.

"What's wrong?" she finally murmured.

"Nothing."

"Then why won't you touch me?"

"You didn't ask. You said you wanted me to kiss you, so I am kissing you – or rather I was until a moment ago."

"Oh, is that how the game is played?" She nuzzled her way along his jaw, rubbing her lips against his whiskers until she reached an ear. "Will you hold me, Illya, and make love to me?" She sucked in his ear lobe and sighed as Illya slid his arms around her and pulled her against him.

"I thought you'd never ask." He moved his hands until one of them found a zipper and guided it slowly downward. The other hand began to work the dress off a shoulder, even as he returned to kissing her, this time with a bit more fire.

Anxious, Ruth shrugged the dress off her shoulders and pushed it down over her hips, then stepped out of it. She stopped at that moment to untie Illya's shoes. Illya stared at her, his brow creased as he toed first one shoe, then the other off.

"It's your turn," Ruth reached out and began to loosen his tie. "This is nice." She pulled it free and draped it around her neck.

"It's Napoleon's, but he doesn't know it yet." He got out of his jacket, then Illya carefully removed his weapon and set it on the small bedside table before wiggling free of his shoulder holster.

"That looks about as painful as a bra."

"Never wore one… yet." He reached out and pushed the straps of her bra off her shoulders and kissed her neck, even as he worked the clasp free.

"You're good at that."

"I'd say lots of practice, but I'd be lying. Still, I am very good with my hands."

"Mmm, can't wait."

Illya tossed the garment aside and reached down to caress her breasts, squeezing them gently. Then he ducked down to sample first one nipple then the other, tonguing them erect, then sucking them.

"I'm nearly naked and you're still entirely dressed," Ruth protested, even as she lifted one of her breasts higher, making it easier for him to reach. "This is not fair."

"It is funny how unfair life is." Illya released his mouthful and began unbuttoning his shirt, then shut his eyes in pleasure as Ruth ran a finger over the swelling in his pants.

"Looks like you got quite a problem there. Need a little help?" She worked the clasp of his fly open and then eased down the zipper. "What do you have hiding in there?" Ruth reached in and Illya gasped as her cool hand connected with his very hot penis. "Oh, oh my gosh…"

"Problem?" Illya looked downward as his penis celebrated its freedom from its confinement and he stepped from his pants.

"You are exactly what they were talking about when they said that good things come in very… adequate packages. So much more than just a handful."

Illya grinned, privately relieved at her choice of words. "You have no idea." He maneuvered them around until he could feel the bed behind his legs and pulled her backwards so that they landed upon the bed together, Ruth on top of him.

She made an appreciative noise and rocked her hips against his groin. "I need one more minute," she said, skimming off her panty girdle and stockings. "You need to take your socks off."

"I still have my socks on? I can feel nothing from my waist down." Illya lifted his head from the mattress and suppressed a laugh as she eased them off.

"You have lovely feet." She caressed them and worked her way up to his ankles.

"They do as I ask."

"And very nice legs… and I can't quite come up with a phrase to describe your thighs."

Illya opened and then closed his mouth. He reached down and pulled her up his body to look eye-to-eye with her, rolling so that she was trapped beneath him. "You are not quite the shy young thing that you let on, are you?"

She laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "Neither are you, fella. I think the still waters are running very deep." She rocked her hips again, positioning herself for him. "Race you."

"Not on your life."

Napoleon looked up from his twin bed as Illya entered, whistling softly.

"You're finally in."

"Napoleon? I didn't expect to see you this evening."

"Change of plans."

"Oh?" Illya sat to undo his shoes. Ruth had doubled knotted the left one and he swore softly as he worked at it. "I thought you and Miss Van Vleck were off to paint the stars."

"Let's just say she wanted to work in water color and I prefer oil and we shall leave it at that. Where were you?"

"Had a couple of drinks." He got his shoes and socks off, then stood to undo his pants. He stepped out of them and hung then over the back of the chair. His jacket followed, folded as neatly as Illya was likely to achieve.

He got off his tie and draped that over the coat as well.

"That tie looks familiar… really familiar." Napoleon set his book aside and squinted at it. "Why is that, partner mine?"

"No idea." Illya went to his suitcase, pulled out his shaving kit and gathered up his pajamas before disappearing into the bathroom.

Napoleon climbed out of bed and went to the chair. "That's my tie, you little… and there's lipstick on it." Then he noticed something white tucked into Illya's pants pocket. He reached in and pulled out a small embroidered handkerchief. He held it to his nose and inhaled. "And Chanel No. 5. Mr. Kuryakin, you dog." He tucked it back away and returned to his bed.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" Illya stepped out of the bathroom and carried his dirty clothes to his suitcase.

"That's my tie."

"Yes."

"And the last time I saw you wear both the top and the bottoms of your pajamas was in Medical and you were down for the count."

"It's a little chilly out tonight."

"Uh huh…"

Illya climbed into bed and sighed.

"Who was she, Illya?"

"No one you know." He closed his eyes, but had an enigmatic smile on his lips. "You know what they say about those who wait, good things come."

Napoleon studied Illya's profile and smirked. "More than once, if that self satisfied grin is any indication. I'm glad one of us had a good night."

Illya's smile grew as he replayed the evening in his head, but he was so tired that his penis didn't even stir at the more intimate memories. "A very good night."