There was loud sneeze that echoed from the bathroom, startling Napoleon as he dozed on his bed.
The hotel room they were booked into, thankfully was a double, giving him and Illya separate beds for once. After hearing the sneeze, he was thankful not to be sleeping in close quarters with his partner.
The bathroom door opened slowly, with a red-nosed Russian appearing, dressed in his pale blue pajamas. He cleared his throat, sniffling into the handkerchief he held to his nose.
"Dapoleon, dis is not good." He mumbled, as he threw back the covers and crawled into bed with a moan. He coughed violently as he pulled his blanket up around his neck.
"You're right as you're not going to be any good to me in your condition." Napoleon declared, getting up and walking to his partner's bedside. He reached over, putting his hand on Illya's forehead.
"Oh man, you've got a fever." He opened up his travel kit, pulling out a bottle of aspirin, and pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the dresser, he held them out.
"Doh, I will be fine," Illya rasped. "I just deed to sleep."
"And I say yes, now take the tablets and don't give me any guff, and that's an order."
"Sure pull rank on be." Illya grudgingly accepted the medication.
"No palming them, if you please?" Napoleon warned.
"You are doh fun, did I ever tell you?" Illya popped the pills into his mouth, swallowing them with a sip of water and setting the glass on the night table. He coughed again, and pulled the blanket over his head with another moan.
Napoleon's head began to spin, suddenly realizing he now had a headache. He popped a couple aspirins just in case, dry swallowing them "Damn,' he uttered, knowing he needed Illya with him to pull off his plan. There was simply no time to get another agent in to cover.
He called room service ordering two big bowls of chicken soup, and a pot of hot tea with honey and lemon.
When the order arrived, Illya was still awake, coughing like he was going to hack up a lung. He wasn't hungry, but like the aspirin, he obliged his partner's entreaties to eat the soup, knowing it would in truth do him some good.
He wished he could taste it, but at least the hot soup was soothing and the tea made his throat feel a bit better as well.
"Did you dow the healing properties of chicken soup are dot just a wives tale?" He said finishing it off. "I did an analysis of it once, and found, when made properly, it has trace amounts of penicillin."
"I thought your were allergic to penicillin?"
"Apparently the amounts in the soup are not enough to trigger a reaction."
"It must be doing something as you sound less stuffy chum. Lucky you...and me too. Last thing I want is to have to rush you to a hospital with an allergic reaction...Illya?" The Russian had fallen asleep, with the empty bowl still in his hands.
Napoleon clicked his tongue, removing it and tucking his friend in, crossing his fingers his partner would be feeling well enough in the morning...
The next day Illya woke minus the fever, though he was still coughing and sneezing.
A good hot shower seemed break things up a bit in his chest, and being grateful for his partner's insistence, he gave no argument when he was asked to take more aspirin.
"We'll stop at a chemist and get you some cough syrup tovarisch, that's if you feel up to this?"
"I am up to it, no cold is going to stop me." Illya nodded with confidence.
"Reassuring to know, sick or not, you'll still have my back," Napoleon said, pouring his partner one last cup of tea...
