"MMM, it's beginning to smell a lot like Christmas," Napoleon sang at the top of his lungs as he entered through their front door. The cats ran for sanctuary from his less-than-on key singing voice. He didn't care. He dropped his extra padding on a chair and set his hat and white whiskers on top of it.
"You know, if your goal is to have Santa send the children screaming from the room, that's just might do it." Illya Kuryakin draped a cloth over one shoulder and squatted to study his oven's contents. "And I'm pretty sure that's not the way the song goes."
"It's the thought that counts." Napoleon waggled his fingers and reached for an icing-drizzled fig bar. It was gone in two appreciative bites.
"You're going to get fat, Solo." Illya opened the oven door and used the towel to pull the goose from the oven. Immediately, Napoleon was there to supervise.
"Chestnut dressing?"
"Popped them myself." Illya inserted a meat thermometer and waited for it to register. Satisfied, he tented it with foil and set it aside. He turned and nearly collided with Napoleon. "Napoleon…" he growled.
"I know, but I can't help it. Everything smells so good." Napoleon's arms were around him. "Including you. I could eat you on the spot."
There was a flash in Illya's eyes and then it was gone. He slowly pulled free of Napoleon's grasp. "Why don't you go over to Taste and help them decorate."
Napoleon sighed. "They sent me over here. I sort of got carried away with a couple of the reindeer."
"Napoleon, we talked about that…" Illya slid another tray of cookies into his second oven.
"That was with the snowmen. I couldn't help it if they looked lonely and people got the wrong idea."
"She was twelve, Napoleon, and it cost me a good bottle of wine." Illya wiped his hands and then gestured to the table. "Here, why don't you decorate these, but no putting odds bits on the gingerbread men..." He stopped at Napoleon's truly crestfallen face.
"No, that's okay. I'm going to go check and see how Vinea is doing." Unlike Taste, which had closed for the holidays, Vinea stayed open until five on Christmas Eve. By then, it was usually just Napoleon and another volunteer manning the shop while the rest of the employees made last minute deliveries and got ready for the party.
He walked out and Illya started to follow, then looked back at his ovens. With a sigh, he returned to them. He'd have to patch things up with Napoleon as best he could later. It was always so hard when he had to choose between his work and his love.
When he and Matt started Taste, they had stayed open Christmas Eve, and played, as it were, to an empty house. Left with a restaurant full of food and no patrons, Illya invited the few members of staff and their families to join them. That was the start to the Taste Christmas. Illya and Matt now closed the restaurant from Christmas Eve to New Year's Eve. It gave everyone a good rest, or a chance to travel to be with family. Taste still threw a huge party for its employees and their families. It gave some, like Matt and Rocky, a place to be on a night when a lack of family was keenly felt.
This year it had been even better because Christmas Eve followed after their usual days off. No one complained, although Illya thought the restaurant would burst at its seams on the days leading up to it.
The kitchen door opened and Illya looked up eagerly. At the sight of Matt, Illya smiled and returned to the prep of his dish, knowing the redhead would stay out from under his feet.
"Cara, have you seen Napoleon?"
"He's over at Vinea's, why?"
"I… I'ha fatto scappare."
"You sent him scurrying? Why?" Illya shook his head. "No, don't answer. I just did the same thing."
"He's just so felice." Matt looked truly miserable. "And I yelled at him for it."
"It's okay, he's just at loose ends. We all have things to do, but he doesn't. He's excited, like a little kid, but with nothing to do. So, he gets under your feet, like a loving puppy." Illya pointed with an elbow. "The goose is in there."
"Si, si!" Matt retrieved the platter and paused. "I am sorry, Cara. I love that he enjoys this season so much and it wouldn't do to have a sad Santa."
"You can tell him that later. It'll be fine. How is everything coming over there?"
"We are in very good shape. You?"
"Nearly finished." A timer went off and Illya laughed. "No, make that finished." He glanced at the clock. "And with two hours to spare. Enough time for a shower and a nap."
"You have gotten older, Cara. It used to be a shower and something else."
Illya grinned widely at that. "There's a thought. I'd best go see if I can find His Majesty. He made an interesting suggestion earlier."
Illya watched Matt carefully carry the goose back to the restaurant and grabbed his muffler and hat. They had been knitted for him by Roxanne and he loved the soft feel of the yarn against his skin.
The driveway that Taste and Vinea shared had been plowed and the sun had melted most of the ice, but Illya was still cautious. The last thing he wanted was a wrenched back or broken bone. It was so much easier when he'd been a young and limber enforcement agent. Now he didn't bounce so well.
He stamped off his feet and entered Vinea. It was still bustling at this point with last minute purchases.
"I need a wine for my freeloading brother-in-law. Do you have anything that will make him find a job?"
"My grandmother hates wine. What should I buy her?"
"I need it to go with my plum pudding."
The chatter around him made Illya smile. He didn't know how Napoleon did it, but he did know that everyone who left Vinea seemed to have exactly what they wanted. He found Napoleon in the white wine section.
"But she's an old coot."
"You're in luck. I just happen to have an old coot wine." Napoleon glanced at the racks and pulled something. The old woman took it and sucked air through her teeth.
"It's a little expensive, isn't it?"
"For the pleasure of seeing her spiffed? Well worth it."
The woman scurried away and Napoleon turned. "What might I interest you in, sir?" he asked Illya with a grin.
"I finished early-" Illya started, then one of the clerks shouted.
"Mr. Solo, a moment?"
"Sorry, I have to go." Napoleon raced off, leaving Illya there, looking annoyed. Of course, how many times had he done that to Napoleon?
"You're in my way. mister… Oh, it's you, Chef." Illya recognized the new mayor with a nod.
"Sorry. I'm good in a kitchen, not so much here."
"Speaking of such, are we still on for the 2nd?"
Illya had no idea what he was talking about, but he'd learned as a tiny spy in diapers to never let the other party know that. "Absolutely."
"I'll see you then. Merry Christmas!"
Illya waved to his retreating back and looked for Napoleon. The shop wasn't that big, but it felt like everyone in Jackson was in it. He didn't see his partner anywhere.
He waded towards the front counter. "Pauline, where is Napoleon?"
"He left to do a couple of deliveries."
"Oh, okay." So that was it. He'd been too busy for the one man who would drop anything for him and now he was getting a taste of his own medicine.
Illya headed back to their little house. The Christmas lights Napoleon had strung the day after Thanksgiving glistened in the snow that drifted down and their tree was perfectly showcased in their front window. It looked so cozy and warm… and empty.
Illya remembered that first year all too well, the near crippling exhaustion from cooking all day and most of the night, the struggles to keep the front doors open and his employees paid. He lived on whatever he could scrounge from the kitchen and slept when he could.
Most nights he'd just lie there, playing and replaying their last moments and those terrible hate-driven thoughts. He'd vanished, left and it wasn't until years later that Napoleon found him again. Illya thought about all those nights. Even with Matt beside him, the bed seemed empty and cold.
He opened the front door and paused. He didn't remember leaving the radio on… or the tree, for that matter.
Familiar arms surrounded him and caught him in a deep passionate kiss. When he surfaced, he was smiling into Napoleon's beaming face.
"What did I do to earn that sort of welcome home?"
Napoleon pointed up. "Mistletoe."
"I'll be careful who I let through the front door." Illya took off his muffler. "I thought you had deliveries."
"I did, but I finished them and decided I'd rather be here instead." Napoleon's hands ran over Illya's body, very nearly robbing him of speech
"How?" He finally managed to get out.
"They were to Taste from some satisfied customers for the party tonight."
"Ah…"
"So what did you want to see me about?"
"What?"
Napoleon laughed. "I've reduced you to single syllables. I must be doing something right." He let his hand drop a bit further south.
Illya took a deep breath and smiled. "I was thinking maybe a shower and…"
"Afters?"
"Better than befores. I'm a mess."
Napoleon nuzzled Illya's neck. "I disagree. Mmmm, you smell like gingerbread and cinnamon. Like stuffing and evergreen and everything that is good about this season."
"How do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Find the magic in Christmas?"
"It's easy when all I want and ache for in the world in right in my arms. It's easy to be magnanimous when you have everything and want for nothing. I have you and that's all I need."
"I don't deserve you."
"No, you don't, but you are stuck with me anyhow." Napoleon kissed him again and Illya dragged him to the floor, hoping that he remembered to lock the front door behind him.
And to their credit, they weren't all that very late to their own party.