"I don't recognise that one."
Illya didn't look up, continuing to stroke Lyov's hair away from his eyes.
"Is it new?"
"Nyet." Illya sighed, "It is old Russian lullaby I used to sing to him when he was baby. It was the only thing to get him to sleep."
"Oh… I didn't think you managed to spend that much time with him."
Illya shrugged, "They used to let me in to see him all the time." He sighed, "After the… birth, I must have spent weeks recovering. He never left my side during those days. When I was pulled back to real world and job, I could only see him in evening-time and morning, to make sure he was fed and sleeping."
"That couldn't have been good for him either?"
Again, Illya ahrugged. "He was project. Not a simple baby to be coddled."
"There's a difference between coddling and basic baby care!" Napoleon snapped, pushing himself to his feet as he started to pace the room, fighting to keep his voice low, "And then, when they thought he could sleep without his lullaby, they changed your visitation rights."
"Right."
"…. When did he last hear that lullaby?"
Illya winced, "He… wasn't quite a year old."
"Wasn't quite a- Illya!"
"It wasn't my choice!" Illya snapped, moving away from Napoleon, "But I couldn't do anything to stop them!"
Napoleon opened his mouth to say something, only to stop when he saw the look on Illya's face.
He'd seen that look before, in the mirror.
That feeling of hopelessness, the feeling that you would never be able to get out of a tight situation.
How often had he seen that look in the CIA?
"I'm sorry." He whispered, pulling Illya to sit next to him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you didn't care, I just- "He stopped and sighed wearily, "- wish things could have been better. For all of us."
"You think we would have met without KGB and CIA?"
"Why not?" Napoleon beamed, wrapping an arm around Illya's shoulders, "Think about it… you'd be a bodyguard. I'd be a master art curator or something, who needs a little bit of extra protection, so I'd hire you. We'd inevitably fall in love, get married, adopt a little boy and not have to worry about getting hunted down by agents who can and probably will kill us."
"… You have thought about this."
"Maybe more so now that we have Lyov." Napoleon shrugged, "I know we're in too deep now to just retire, but it's a nice thought, right?"
"Hmmmm… it is like that married spy film."
"Married spy- Oh! Mr and Mrs Smith!" Napoleon couldn't help but agree slightly, before collapsing onto a nearby sofa, "God, I hope reinforcements arrive soon. I'm going to get cabin fever soon, I just know it."
"Better than being alone in safe house."
That was a very good point, and Napoleon had to give him that.
"There's a lot of trees around here." He commented, peering out of the window, "Do I want to know how many traps are in those trees?"
"Nyet."
"… You know, it's actually quite a nice little safe-house. Maybe we can… spend some time outside? Take advantage of it?"
"We are being hunted!"
"No reason we can't have some fun."
…
Lyov woke to sound of bickering from the kitchen, prompting him to slowly make his way out of the room and into the room in question, frowning at the sight of his Dads' arguing over a largish fish.
"I am Russian. We know how to cook fish. All you Americans do is cover it in weird stuff and cook it in hot fat!"
"That's the English!"
"Americans do it too!"
"What are you doing?"
The two men turned to Lyov, before glancing back at each other guiltily.
"Breakfast!" Napoleon beamed, scooping Lyov into his arms, "I caught those fish myself you know."
"Really?"
"Really, really."
Napoleon placed Lyov at the table, as Illya got to cooking the fish. In a little over half an hour later, three plates were placed on the table.
"Eat it all." Illya gently ordered, "No food waste."
Lyov nodded, tucking eagerly into his breakfast. When the plate was clean, he looked up at Napoleon. "Can you teach me how to fish?"
"… Pardon?"
"It is a way of… bonding, right?" Lyov tilted his head to the side, "For Fathers and sons?"
"I- " Napoleon hesitated.
It had been so chaotic ever since they found Lyov… he supposed they really didn't have a chance to bond. Not unless you counted their evenings together.
"Alright." He found himself nodding, ignoring the warning look that Illya gave him, "I'll take you fishing."
"Yes!" Lyov pushed himself away from the table, rushing back to his room to grab his shoes, unaware of the vicious glare Illya was sending Napoleon.
"We cannot go outside." He hissed, as soon Lyov was out of earshot, "We have to stay in here, out of sight!"
"It'll only be for a few hours, I promise." Napoleon reached out and took Illya's hand, "Nothing will happen. We're going to be fine."
….
Illya remained in a huff all the way to the lake, constantly on edge as he tensed at every broken branch or rustling leaves.
"Relax." Napoleon whispered to him, "You're making Lyov nervous."
"Good. It is good for him to remain on edge. Heightens the reflexes."
"He's a child!"
"No excuse."
Napoleon rolled his eyes fondly, as they neared the lake, managed to stop Lyov just before he could leap into the water. "Ah, ah, ah. Shoes and socks off first and roll up your trouser legs."
"You are not planning on going in water?" Illya sounded incredulous, still glancing around the area, "It is freezing."
"It's a little chilly." Napoleon agreed, "But he's half-Russian, it won't bother him."
"Not him I worry about." Illya smirked, "It is you and your weak American bones."
Napoleon gasped in fake astonishment, reaching out to push Illya, only for the other man to grab his wrist and pull him into a kiss.
"Ewwww!"
At the exclamation from their son, the pair pulled away, turning to see Lyov staring up at them.
"Alright, alright!" Napoleon sighed, "No more kissing Mama… in front of you." He then turned and smirked at Iylla, "Shoes off and roll your trousers up." He ordered, "I might as well teach you both."
…..
"What is point of this." Illya muttered, standing on the rocks as the river flowed around his and Lyov's ankles.
"The point, is to bond as a family and catch some food for us." Napoleon chuckled, trying not to shiver in the water.
He wouldn't let this weakness show.
"Alright." He clapped his hands together, "When the salmon jump up, try and catch them in your hands and then throw them onto the bank."
"What if I drop them?" Lyov asked, yelping as one such fish came jumping out at him, prompting him to duck quickly, "What if I can't catch any?"
"Don't worry." Napoleon reassured him, "We can try again tomorrow."
"And if I can't do it tomorrow?"
Catching Illya's oh-so-sad eyes, Napoleon suddenly realised where all this panic was coming from.
How often had his son been punished for not grasping something as quickly as he should have done?
"We'll do it as many times as you need." He reassured him, "Okay?"
"… Okay."
…
In the end, there was no need to worry, as Lyov was the one to catch the most fish.
Napoleon would forever maintain that it was his small height that did the trick.
