Author's Note: Written for my best friend's birthday. First Man from UNCLE fic. I realise the opening isn't completely true to canon, I took slight creative license. Enjoy!
Napoleon watched through the mirror as Illya's hand reached beneath his jacket. He took hold of his own gun, then made another decision. "Almost forgot," he spoke turning, "I believe this is yours."
Illya caught the metallic projectile automatically. As realisation dawned, he turned the watch over to check if it was his father's watch, before quickly attaching it to his wrist. His eyes met those of the brunet. "You know what my mission is?" he asked softly.
"Same as mine was. Kill me if necessary. To get that," he spoke, nodding his head to the blue computer disc sticking out from under his waistcoat. He met the blonde's eyes. "Honestly, I don't think either side deserves it."
The Russian's expression softened. "What do you propose?"
"We burn it," he stated. Illya's lips curved upward. "What?"
"Interesting proposal," he replied, amusement clear.
"Look, this is not the kind of information we want falling into the wrong hands, it's better to destroy it. I realise that neither of our bosses will win-"
"I agree with you Cowboy," he interrupted.
"You do?"
"Yes," he stated firmly.
"In that case, why don't we move our drink to the balcony, and burn it there? You can even escort me, and the disc, the whole way to ensure I don't try and pull a fast one."
"You already tried that, and didn't enjoy it."
The brunet sighed. "I enjoy very little about my job, Peril, but it's better than prison. Well, the food is anyway."
"Better entertainment," the Russian added with a smile.
Napoleon gave a short laugh. "I'd likely get as much action, it just wouldn't be female."
"Would it be willing?" the blonde asked softly.
The brunet's lips curved in a wry smile. "It would depend on the situation." He sighed. "While that's best not shared, it's better for me to admit than it would be for you, right?" Illya nodded slightly. "Well, there's time for me to pack later," he stated, entering the room proper, "shall we go get that drink?"
"There is something want to do first," Illya declared. The brunet opened his mouth to retort, and nothing came out as the blonde crossed the distance between them. "No comeback Cowboy?" Napoleon remained silent, and waited for the Russian to make a move. "In this instance, I prefer you to be quiet," he murmured and ducked his head, pressing his lips against the brunet's.
He pulled back and the brunet pressed his lips together to savour the sensation. "I would be willing in this situation," he murmured.
"Then perhaps we should delay that drink," Illya drawled.
"I think we can spare five minutes."