Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin

Category: slash

Rating: R

Word Count: 826

Summary: Just a moment in a mission.

Table/Prompt: Under the Stars.

 

“The building is empty, Napoleon.”

“So it seems.  And we are no closer to finding the…” he was interrupted by the chirp of his communicator.  Taking the pen from his pocket, he uncapped it and answered.  “Solo here.”

“We got it.”

“Good job, Baker, and you are welcome to the paperwork.”  Napoleon grinned at Illya as Baker signed off.  He recapped the pen and tucked it back in his pocket.  “Don’t look so disappointed, partner mine, I am sure the next bomb will be ours, and you will get a completely satisfying kaboom from it, too.”

“Napoleon,” Illya’s voice was reprimanding, “I am not disappointed.”

“But you do like things you can blow sky high.”

“And that list is surprisingly short.”  Illya turned sharply away and then his own communicator signaled, he answered it as he walked toward the door.

If Napoleon didn’t know better, he would have thought that Illya was suggesting something.  But they were on the clock and Illya rarely deviated from his tasks at work.  Unless he was trying to get back at him for some teasing or other.  Napoleon couldn’t think of any infractions, so perhaps Illya was just tired; they had been out late last night.

Illya was recapping his communicator as he came back to the center of the room to join Napoleon.  “As soon as we lock up here, we are free to resume our interrupted day off.  Doors are secure here.”  He sat next to Napoleon, looking over at the book in his hands.  “Napoleon?”

“Hmm? Ah, sorry, yes, we’ll lock up and be on our way.  I think we were planning to sleep in.  So much for that.”

“Tomorrow, perhaps.”

“One can hope.”  Napoleon reached out to the machine in front of their chairs.  He flicked a switch and the room lights dimmed, then the ceiling lit up in an entirely different way.  It, too, slowly dimmed and then pinpoints of light began to shine, some brighter than others.  Napoleon reached out and adjusted a dial or two and the lights moved slowly and settled, some brightening and others sliding across the ceiling slowly.

“This is what the night sky looked like the night you were born.”  Napoleon smiled over at Illya like a pleased student showing off his science project.

Illya leaned back in his seat, reclined almost entirely on his back as that was the way the seats were designed.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”  Napoleon leaned back next to his partner, watching the slow increments of the stars’ movements.

“I wonder which one is yours.”

Napoleon turned his head to see Illya still watching the ceiling.  “Which one what?”

“Which one is the lucky star you were born under.”

“It probably fell, I was born directly after a meteor shower.”

“Is that like breaking the mold?”  The playful tone was back.

“Maybe.”  Napoleon grinned.  “And I know why you like things that explode.”

Illya turned to him finally, the faint light from the starry ceiling washing his face with shadow.  He lifted a brow, indicating Napoleon should continue with whatever theory he had concocted.

“There was a meteor shower just a few weeks after you were born.  It turned into a meteor storm.  More than five thousand falling stars an hour.  There won’t be another like it until the next century.  Can you imagine?”

“Where do you get this information?”

Napoleon sat up and handed him the book he had been looking at, then reached out and turned the dials again.  The machine hummed and then the artificial sky above them changed again, streaks of light starting to flash intermittently and then appearing faster and faster until the ceiling lit like a whole factory of fireworks going off at once, or one of Illya’s bombs exploding.

Illya sat the book aside and resumed his reclining, Napoleon joined him.  They watched for a long time, quiet.

“Beats a cold hillside with nothing but a blanket between us and the hard ground,” Napoleon said quietly.

“Yes.  Although, the cold hillside might have other attractions.”

“The need to keep one’s companion warm, for instance.”

“Don’t tell me, you asked a date out to watch falling stars.”

“Well, no, actually.  I never have.”  Napoleon thought about that.  “Until now.”  He turned his head the slightest bit and caught Illya looking back.

The kiss was a hint of promise and taste of anticipation and just a dash of subterfuge, knowing they were locked away from prying eyes but still nowhere near the known safety of home; it was delicious.

They locked the outside door to the planetarium and turned toward their car parked up the street.

“Sometime you will have to tell me why it took so long.”

“What took so long, Napoleon?”

“Why did it take you nearly a year to fall to earth, tovarisch?”

“Why did it take decades for you to find your lucky star, Napoleon?”

“I didn’t realize he was lost, Illya.”

“Not any more.”