Napoleon flipped his phone around in his hand. The penthouse was quiet, which meant he could practically hear his heart thudding in his chest, along with James Gordon snoring beside him as he lay on the couch.

Although he had told Illya he would text him, he had yet to live up to that promise. Ever since they parted ways in the airport, his mind kept screaming at him that it was too good to be true, that Illya would never want to be with him, that Illya wasn't even gay and that Napoleon himself came with too much baggage.

So instead he had spent the last three weeks holed up in his grandparents house, relishing in the memory of Illya walking with him to the baggage claim and waiting until he unlocked an excited James Gordon from his crate. He gave his dog a big hug before the excited golden retriever wagged his tail at Illya. Napoleon had nodded his OK at Illya and while he expected the tall man to pat his dog, he hadn't thought Illya would drop to his knees and greet the animal for a couple of minutes.

After, as the two walked toward the exit with James, Napoleon had offered Illya a ride as he knew his driver was waiting. Illya had declined, claiming he had purchased a bus ticket, but they had exchanged numbers.

Since then, he could not get Illya's face out of his head and would spend hours staring at his cellphone, trying to think of a way to reply to Illya's numerous greetings. He would contemplate calling Illya, asking him to come over. His grandpa even started making jokes asking if Napoleon was banned from the numerous Hollywood Christmas parties because of all the women he had forgotten.

On one particular tough day, when his dad decided to make an appearance and he felt an urge to leave the house, Napoleon had even bought Illya a gift. Granted it was just a cinema gift card, but Napoleon had thought of it after he watched Illya scroll quickly through the movies on the plane as they waited for the people ahead of them to leave.

Napoleon had even watched the same cheesy Western on the way back to New York. He unfortunately hadn't run into Illya again during his flight home. However, he was allowed to keep his dog and the rude flight attendant hadn't made an appearance.

But he still couldn't work up the nerve to call or text.

"James!" Napoleon's dog cracked one eye open.

"Want to go for a walk?"

As Napoleon went to take the leash off the hook near the door and fit James into his service vest, he decided to grab Illya's gift and slip it into the front pocket of his jacket, close to his heart.


Illya was sulking, practically glaring at every person they passed in Central Park. Even having Gaby, his former-girlfriend-turned-best-friend, beside him was doing nothing to lighten his mood.

She had dragged him to Washington Square Park originally, but after he practically yelled at the little boy he was playing chess with, they had taken the subway up to Central Park, one of her favourite places in New York.

Now, Illya was glaring moodily at the snow as it crunched beneath his feet.

"You know, your cousin warned me you'd be like this," Gaby said. She had stayed close with Illya's family, especially since the two continued to go to the same university. The whole family has also bonded over the eastern European connection, although Gaby insisted Germany was better than Russia.

"I figured you would be studying like a maniac even before the semester started to cure your broken heart, but I didn't expect the silent treatment."

Illya sighed. "I'm sorry. He didn't even text back." He knew Gaby was tired of the same story, but his annoyance wasn't fading.

"Well, you did say he goes to Columbia. Why don't you just try to run into him when school starts?" Gaby said.

Illya wrinkled his nose at the plan. He knew if this had happened to Gaby, she would be relentless, especially since she insisted Illya and Napoleon had "a strong moment," but he wasn't going to chase after someone who clearly didn't want him.

He continued to stare at the snow, only glancing up when he heard a dog barking.

The small dog was freaking out as another dog passed them. Gaby was laughing as she watched the female owner try to control her pet, but Illya only had eyes for the person walking the other dog.

Napoleon Solo.

"We go now," Illya said, steering Gaby to the right.

"Why," she asked, peering around Illya's body.

"Wait a minute, is that Napoleon?" Gaby recognized him from the magazines too, and before Illya could blink she was walking over to him, while Illya settled into his scowl. He turned away, hoping his gray cap could hide his face.


"Hey!" Napoleon jumped at the voice, slowly taking his headphones out of his ears as he turned to face the woman standing beside him.

She was very beautiful, brown hair framing her face, and Napoleon briefly considered flirting with her before Illya's face once again crossed his mind.

He shook his head to come back to his senses.

"Would you like an autograph?" He never really understood why he had fans. Sure, his dad was famous and there were rumours of him going into acting, but he was just an art student in New York. A boy with rich parents who had been in trouble with the law, but that wasn't a rarity in this city.

"No," And she was still smiling. "My name's Gaby, you must be Napoleon."

"Ya…" Napoleon shook the hand she had stretched toward him. "Um, not that I don't appreciate a good conversation in Central Park, but why did you come over?"

"Well you see…" And Napoleon saw her grin get wider. "My friend Illya just won't stop talking about you."

"You know Illya!" Napoleon could have winced at how eager he sounded, but he was just excited to hear his name."

"Yes," Gaby said. "I do and I also know how you didn't text him. Or call."

"Ya…" Napoleon looked down. He didn't know how to respond to that statement.

"Well the good news is you can explain. He's right over there."

Napoleon looked to where Gaby was pointing and saw the familiar gray cap Illya had placed on his head before he left the airport a couple of weeks ago.

"I would suggest a coffee."


And that's how Illya and Napoleon found themselves sitting beside each other on a bench, each holding a coffee from a nearby vendor. James Gordon was resting comfortably at Napoleon's feet. Gaby had excused herself, saying she was late for her shift at the mechanics, even though Illya knew for a fact she had at least another couple of hours.

The silence was heavy between them.

"Why didn't you get back to me," Illya finally spoke, crossing his arms as he set the coffee down beside him. Napoleon occupied himself by sipping his own coffee.

"So, no answer," Illya said, tapping his arm and his leg simultaneously. "I should just go."

He stood half to leave and half to relieve the anger coursing through him. He heard Napoleon make a small noise behind him.

"What!?" Illya turned back. "Finally going to say something."

Napoleon stayed quiet, once again looking at his dog.

"I don't get you Napoleon," Illya said. If he was going to walk away, he could at least say what he had been thinking these past couple of weeks.

"I thought we would at least talk after plane ride. But no. I help you and you just cast me aside. I thought I misjudge you but I guess what all those tabloids say is right."

Illya was trying to keep his tapping under control and missed the hurt look crossing Napoleon's face

"That wasn't it, Illya," Napoleon said. "I just…I just didn't know what to say."

He didn't say what he really wanted to, about how he didn't know how to start any kind of relationship without sleeping with the person first. Or a second time. It's what he was good for.

As he looked up at the angry Russian, he wondered if maybe that's what the man wanted. So he stood up as well.

"Illya," And he was stepping forward, leaning forward, trying to meet Illya's lips before strong hands pushed him back.

"Napoleon, what are you doing?" Illya didn't sound angry anymore, just confused.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Napoleon asked, stepping back. James Gordon whined behind him.

"What? No Napoleon…" Illya didn't get a chance to finish as Napoleon grabbed James Gordon's leash.

"I get it ok," Napoleon said, walking away from the bench. "I'm just going to go home. I want to go home."