One

That little blond bastard Napoleon Solo thought as he watched his partner, and the man that he thought was his friend leave Waverly's office.

With a sigh, he turned back to his superior, who was at this very moment, looking none too happy.

"So Mr Solo, would you care to explain this little...indiscretion to me?"

Napoleon gulped and put on his most charming smile, Waverly stared back at him, obviously not charmed at all.

Illya, I will get you for this if it's the last thing I do. Napoleon thought as he plunged into what he he hoped was a good explanation.

Two

"So, how did it go?"

Napoleon could see the hint of humour behind the younger man's blue eyes. He sat down at the cafeteria table and reached over to pour himself a glass of water from the jug that the waitress had placed there.

"Fine, I explained to Waverly about the stewardess and he seemed to accept it."

"Even though she turned out to be a T.H.R.U.S.H agent?" Illya replied with a smile.

"How was I supposed to know she was working for T.H.R.U.S.H, besides, she had no idea that I was an U.N.C.L.E agent, so no harm was done."

"That's pretty tenuous logic at best and you know it." Illya chided his partner. "Beside, you were lucky this time, next time you might not be."

Napoleon sighed, he hated it when Illya lectured him like this, and it was not like the little blond Russian ever felt anything even remotely close to passion, the man was a veritable ice cube.

"Look, I'll be more careful in the future, I give you my word...okay." Napoleon replied. He held up his right hand. "Scout's honour."

Illya sighed and shook his head. "All right then Napoleon, but I am warning you, any more little indiscretions like that, I am am going to put in a request for a new partner, understand?"

Napoleon looked at him, shocked. "Illya, are you serious?"

The Russian nodded, his shaggy blond hair flopping over his broad forehead. "Absolutely."

"Okay then." Napoleon replied, his voice subdued, he knew that his interest in the female of the species tended to irritate his partner, but threaten to ask for a new partner? He sighed, it was going to be tough, but it would be tougher to have to break in a new partner.

"Now, let eat." Illya said, the smile back again. "I'm starved."

Three

The next few days were hell for Napoleon Solo. He had kept his promise to Illya and had stayed away from the fairer sex, but god, it was starting to tell on him.

He had always enjoyed the company of women, not just for the obvious, but because he genuinely liked women, they way they looked, the way they smiled, their laughter and their bright airy chatter. Even they way they smelled.

Still it would be worth it, just to prove not only to Illya but to himself, that he could keep his word.

A tall blonde walked into the lab, her heels clacking on the tiled floor, she was wearing the familiar triangle badge with a colour and number on it, giving her clearance to certain areas of the U.N.C.L.E headquarters.

She handed Illya some reports, offering the pre occupied man a dazzling smile, he thanked her and took the papers, his mind all ready a million miles away from the very attractive blonde standing in front of him.

Napoleon sighed and rolled his eyes, he had been leaning against the filing cabinet watching all of this with great interest.

The blonde left, giving the dark haired agent a lovely smile as she passed, which he returned.

The door closed behind her, and Napoleon turned to his partner, who was bent over a microscope.

"I think you just missed the opportunity of a lifetime there my friend." Napoleon said as he moved over to where he partner was standing.

"Huh?" Illya glanced up at the slightly taller man. "Did you say something?"

"That lovely vision that just wafted out of here a minute ago." Napoleon said, exasperated.

"Napoleon, what are you babbling on about?" There was more than a hint of impatience in the Russian's voice now.

"That woman you Russian ninny, she was flirting with you and you completely ignored her."

Illya stared at his partner for a moment, then sighed. "Napoleon, I thought we had an agreement." He said.

"We do, I was not talking about me going out with her...I was talking about you."

"Napoleon..."

"I think that you can be sure that she is not a T.H.R.U.S.H agent." Napoleon's grin was infectious and Illya could not help but smile back.

"I am sure that she was a lovely young lady, but as it happens I happen to be in the middle of some very delicate research here." With that, he turned back to the microscope.

Napoleon sighed, then looking at his small, rather delicately built partner, an odd thought started to swirl around the back of his mind, then he pushed it away.

"I'll see you when you're finished here, okay."

"Okay." Illya mumbled, his mind all ready back to his work, he did not even hear the door when it closed behind him.

Four

Napoleon sat at the desk, the files spread out in front of him. It was late and nearly everyone in the building had gone home for the night.

He picked up the personnel file on his partner, reading it carefully. His name, Illya Nikolia Kuryakin was neatly typed on the top of the page. Then his personal details. Date and country of birth, the date that he was allowed entry into the United States, everything. Including the fact that his friend and partner had never been married, never even been engaged, and that his superiors over in the U.S.S.R had been more than happy to transfer the young ex navel officer over here to work for U.N.C.L.E.

Napoleon placed the file back into the folder with the rest of the papers. Everything seemed in order, but there was something here that just didn't seem to gel. Something was missing, something that this file was not telling him, but what?

Napoleon carefully replaced the file and after making sure the light switch was off, he left the office and headed home.

Five

"I don't believe this, Illya's been hurt again?" Napoleon was standing in Mr Waverly's office. He had been called in early with the news that his partner had been involved in an accident.

My Waverly sighed. Yes, it would seem that Mr Kuryakin was riding his motorcycle when it collided with a car. He's in the hospital right now as a matter of fact."

"I'm on my way there now." Napoleon left the office and headed down to where his own car was parked in the underground car park.

Illya was sitting up in the hospital bed, a white bandage wrapped around his head. He looked up as his partner entered the room.

"How many times have I told you to get rid of that deathtrap of yours and get a proper car?"

"It's good to see you too Napoleon." Illya replied with a smile.

Chuckling, Napoleon perched himself on the edge of the bed. "So what in blazes happened?"

Illya shrugged, then winced, lifting his hand to his head. "I'm not sure, all I can remember is taking Odette out of a spin, then suddenly this car was parked on my chest." Odette was his Harley.

Napoleon shook his head. "I swear if not for you the medical system would collapse."

"Well it's nice to now that I am serving my adopted country." Illya replied. Then his face became serious. "What about Odette? How bad is she?"

"As far as I know, she's in the repair shop, but I can drop by and see how she's doing for you, how's that?"

"Thanks Napoleon, I would really appreciate it." Odette was his pride and joy.

"All right then I'll go and check on your precious Odette." Napoleon got up off the bed, satisfied that his partner was going to be all right, it seemed that every second week, the little Russian was winding up in hospital, either with gunshot wounds, or blows to the head.

"I'll come back later tonight...and don't give the nurses a hard time like you usually do." With that, Napoleon left the room, Illya watched him go, and fond smile playing over his lips.

Six

"Well, we can release your friend today if he likes, but I would feel better if he had someone that could stay with him." The doctor said as he flipped through the medical chart that had been hanging on the end of Illya's hospital bed.

"Is that entirely necessary Doctor?" Illya asked impatiently. "After all, it was a minor bump to the head, nothing life threatening. A few days at home and I'll be fine."

The doctor, a small gray haired man, peered at the blond Russian over his black rimmed spectacles.

"Young man, I shall have you know that sometimes the minor bumps can cause the major problems. Any blow to the head can be potentially dangerous, sometimes even fatal. If you want to be released from the hospital, then you shall have to agree to have someone stay with you for the next few days. Rest and quiet, that is what you need in order to make a complete recovery."

Napoleon stood by Illya's bed unable to keep the grin off his face, it was not often he saw his partner bested in any situation and this was priceless. Illya glanced up at him, irritated.

"I'm glad you find this all so amusing." He snapped, folding his arms over his chest, bad temperedly.

"Thank, actually I do." Napoleon replied, his dark eyes twinkling. The doctor looked up at him.

"Are you a relative of this young man's?" He asked.

"I'm kind of like a big brother." Napoleon replied, ignoring the dagger like glare that Illya shot him.

"Good, then I shall release him into your care, I'll have the nurse bring the forms in for him to sign."

"That's fine with me Doctor." Napoleon replied, he grinned down at his coldly furious partner.

"And as for you young man, you had better behave yourself."

Illya's head jerked up, his blue eyes narrowing. He opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doctor.

"Well, I'll be off then, and don't forget, he'll need to come back in for a checkup in a week's time." With that, he left the room.

"Napoleon, I swear..."

The older man smiled as he moved towards the door. "Now, now Illya, you heard what the doctor said, if you don't want to stay under my care and supervision, then you can stay in the hospital and enjoy having sponge baths and needles and eating hospital food..."

"Okay, okay, I get the picture." Illya replied, holding his hand up. "Thank you very much for pointing this all out to me."

"I'll be back later this afternoon." Napoleon told his younger partner as he walked out of the room and into the corridor.

Illya watched him leave, and with a shake of his head, wondered how in hell he was going to be able to stay with this irritating man for the next week without shooting him.

Seven

"Here we are." Napoleon somewhat unnecessarily. He carried Illya's bag in and placed it down onto the floor.

It had been decided that Illya would stay with Napoleon as the older agent's apartment was larger and had a spare room.

Illya had baulked at the idea at first, insisting that he was able to care for himself, but Mr Waverly had told the young agent in no uncertain terms that his health was paramount and that he was to stay with Napoleon Solo until the doctor deemed him fit to return to duty. Mr Waverly had then given Napoleon paid time off so he could care for Illya and make sure that the younger man suffered from no complications due to his head injury.

To say that Illya was less then thrilled with all this was an understatement, to say he was furious would have been closer to the mark.

But Mr Waverley's word was law and that was that, no use arguing, all he would get would be a verbal kick in the pants. So with bad grace, Illya submitted to the arrangement.

"I ordered us some food, it should be here soon, Italian, I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine Napoleon, thank you." Illya replied, he looked around the large comfortable living room. Tasteful pieces of furniture were set about the room, making full use of the space. Several lovely paintings and sculptures completed the sophisticated but relaxed atmosphere. Illya sighed, he had to admit that it left his rather dingy looking apartment for dead.

He knew that Napoleon had money from an old family trust, and it showed in the cars he drove, the suits he wore, and in this lovely apartment he lived in.

"Come on, I'll show you to your room." With a flourish, Napoleon led him over to a small but very comfortable bedroom. Illya could see that there were fresh sheets on the bed and a vase of flowers on the chest of drawers, he was touched that his partner would go to all this trouble.

Napoleon set the bag down onto the bed. "I'll leave you to unpack while I make us some coffee."

Illya smiled as he watched Napoleon head out into the living room, then he opened his bag, and started putting his things away.

The meal had been excellent. Napoleon had called his favourite restaurant up and ordered several different dishes, meals that he knew that his partner liked. The restaurant had delivered it immediately, piping hot and ready to eat.

Dinner over, the two men quickly cleared the dishes and then took their coffee into the living room.

A violin concerto played softly in the background, completing the aura of relaxed, comfortable well being.

Illya sat in the easy chair, eyes half closed, enjoying the music, replete from the meal he'd just eaten.

"How are you feeling?" Napoleon asked suddenly. Illya looked a over at him, he was sitting on the couch, completely relaxed, coffee in hand.

Illya shrugged and offered the other man a smile.

"I'm fine Napoleon, honestly it was just a bump." He tapped the side of his head lightly. "All cured now thanks to the miracles of modern medicine, and a hard head."

"The last I'll definitely agree with." Napoleon replied with a chuckle.

Illya pulled a face at him, and they both laughed, then Napoleon sobered, regarding his younger partner, his dark eyes suddenly serious.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was when I heard that you had been in an accident?"

Illya looked over at him, surprised. "But why Napoleon, after all, in our line of work, we are always getting injured, we get shot at, pushed out of windows, knocked into water that may I add is usually freezing, we have been blown up, drugged, chained to a dungeon wall. We have had harpoons thrown at us, why would a minor mishap like this get you all worried all of a sudden."

"Because our line of work is so dangerous, that's why." Napoleon leaned forward to place the cup down onto the teak coffee table.

"Illya, what we do, is downright hazardous, that's why we need to take extra of ourselves."

Illya grinned, his blue eyes crinkling slightly around the edges in a way that most women found incredibly sexy.

"I believe we have already had this discussion, only about a certain T.H.R.U.S.H spy that you decided to wine and dine and then bed."

Napoleon sighed, making a helpless gesture with his hands. "Illya, I had no idea that Yvette was an enemy agent, but yes, I see your point."

Illya chuckled at that, he could not help but succumb to his partner's easy charm and good humour.

"Well Napoleon, I promise, I will be more careful when I am taking Odette out for a spin, and in return, you will be more careful with your...female friends. Agreed?"

Napoleon laughed and nodded his dark head. "Agreed, and now I think Illya, you should be getting some rest, after all I did promise your doctor that I would take care of you."

Illya sighed and made a face. "I suppose you're right, I am a little tired." He stood up "I'll see you in the morning then."

Napoleon watched the slightly built man as he moved off towards the guest bedroom, his bedroom now, Napoleon mused. For some reason, the thought sent a rather warm feeling through him.

With a smile and a shake of his head, Napoleon pushed the thought away and concentrated on the music instead.

Eight

"Good morning Illya." Napoleon said with almost obscene cheerfulness. "Sleep well last night?"

Illya looked up at him and smiled. "Not to bad thank you."

"How's the head?" Napoleon asked as he sat down at the small table that sat against the wall in the kitchen, effectively turning it into a cozy little nook.

"A lot better." Illya replied. He gave his partner another smile to show that he was fine, but the truth was, he was anything but fine at all.

He had hardly slept a wink last night, his head had ached miserably to the point where he had felt sick and shaky, but the real reason for his sleeplessness was sitting right across from him, dressed in a neat dark suit and sober tie.

"Have you had some breakfast?" Napoleon asked his partner, concerned now, he had noticed the dark shadows under Illya's eyes and the taunt lines around his mouth.

"I'm not feeling very hungry to be honest." Illya replied, ducking his head under his partner's sudden close scrutiny.

"Nonsense." Napoleon replied heartily. "Everyone should start the day with a good nourishing breakfast, even injured UNCLE agents, especially injured UNCLE agent." He admonished, forefinger raised in order to make his point.

Illya found himself grinning despite himself. He watched as his partner walked over to the stove.

"Now, how does bacon, eggs and some toast sound to you?"

"Usually I just have some coffee, and perhaps a croissant." Illya replied. "And that's only if I am really hungry."

"And there in lies your problem my young friend." Napoleon told him with mock sternness.

"That's why you are always having accidents, getting in the way of bullets, knives, clay pots filled with olive oil, cars, trucks, harpoons."

"I have never gotten in the way of a harpoon in my life." Illya spluttered.

"Nevertheless your somewhat erratic eating habits are directly linked to your unfortunate habit of getting hurt all the time."

Illya stared at his partner, speechless for a moment, the he slowly asked.

"And did you come to that particular conclusion?"

"Brain activity." Napoleon informed the younger man cheerfully, he was standing at the stove, deftly breaking eggs into a frypan as he spoke, the bacon and toast were already cooking.

"Brain activity." Illya echoed. "Napoleon, I am recovering from a head injury, what's your excuse?"

Napoleon laughed. "Any doctor will tell you my dear Illya, lack of nourishment directly affects the brain, lack of the proper nutrients instantly lowers brain activity therefore slowing down reflex's and thought."

"So what you are saying is that if I do not eat, I become stupid?" Illya said slowly, taking all this in.

"Something like that yes." Napoleon carried two plate laden with food over now. He placed one on the table in front of the bemused younger man sitting there.

He didn't get so much as a spot on his suit. Illya marveled as he watched the older man sit down to his own breakfast. The young Russian could not help but notice how gracefully his partner moved as he reached over to take a slice of toast from off the plate that he had set down in the center of the breakfast table.

Illya sighed inwardly, he could no so much as open a tin of beef stew without getting it everywhere while Napoleon can effortlessly whip up a feast and look dammed good while doing it.

"You know Napoleon." Illya said aloud. "I suspect you are making all this up."

"Probably." Napoleon said with a chuckled.

Illya rolled his eyes, Napoleon Solo was absolutely incorrigible.

They finished the delicious breakfast that Napoleon had prepared, Illya was surprised, he had no idea that Napoleon knew his way around a kitchen, but then he suspected that there was a great many things that Illya did not know about the other man.

After the dishes were done and everything put neatly away, they both retired to the living room to read the paper and listen to a concerto that Napoleon had brought the other day.

He knew that the young Soviet had a love for classical music and fine art, not to mention fine literature, but he did not have the money to indulge his tastes.

They both listened to the gentle swell of the music as it echoed around the large comfortable room.

Napoleon glanced across at his partner. Illya was sitting, blonde head resting against the back of the over stuffed easy chair, eyes closed, taking in the music.

He was completely unaware of everything, except the music, one hand moving desultorily in time to the rise and fall of the notes as they swelled from the stereo's loudspeaker.

That was when it struck him...my god, he's beautiful. Napoleon was almost stunned by the realization.

He had always known in a somewhat academic way that Illya Kuryakin was a good looking man, so many of the young women at headquarters would turn into silly giggling schoolgirls when the serious young man would enter the room.

It never failed to amuse the older, more sophisticated man, watching the young women becoming more and more frustrated at the lack of response from the handsome young Soviet.

In fact several of the secretaries in the typing pool had dubbed Illya 'The Russian Ice Cube'.

The one person that never mentioned Illya's standoffishness was their boss, Mr Waverly.

Napoleon wondered if Mr Waverly was aware of Illya's solitary life, then pushed the thought away. After all, he reasoned, it was not as if Mr Waverly did not have more important things to think about.

Suddenly Illya's face twisted in pain, he raised his hand to his head, a soft moan escaping his lips.

Napoleon was on his feet instantly. "Illya, are you all right?"

The younger man glanced up at the other man with red rimmed eyes.

"I'm all right Napoleon, there's no need to fuss." He gasped again as another bolt of pain ripped through him.

"You are anything but all right Illya." Napoleon said. "I am going to call a doctor."

"No, no doctor." Illya managed through whitened lips. "It's only a mild headache, no need to call a doctor I assure you."

"Illya, the way you look right now, you can assure me of nothing." Napoleon replied, he was really worried now.

"Perhaps if I just lay down for a little while." Illya tried to get to his feet, but fell back against the chair he was sitting in.

"Come on, I'll help you to the bedroom."

With that, Napoleon bent down and lifted the smaller man to his feet. He half helped, half lifted Illya towards the master bedroom.

"Why am I in here?" Illya asked weakly, looking around at what was obviously Napoleon's room.

"Because my bed is a lot more comfortable that the one in the spare room, that's why."

Napoleon helped Illya over to the bed. "Now, get undressed, then I'll get you into bed."

He helped Illya off with his clothes, stripping him down to his boxer's and pulling back the covers, helped him into the large bed.

"I'm not a child you know." Illya snapped as Napoleon carefully settled him down against the pillows He was not used to being fussed over like this and he found it a little embarrassing.

Or is it because the one doing the fussing is Napoleon Solo? An insidious little voice whispered inside him.

Quickly he pushed the thought away, and closed his eyes against the haze of pain that had proceeded to engulf him.

He felt a cool hand gently rest against his forehead. "You are running a fever Illya, I think I should really get a doctor to take a look at you."

"No, no more doctors." Illya was adamant.

Napoleon smiled down at him. "You are one stubborn young man Illya." He said, his voice gentle.

Illya opened his eyes and smiled at his partner, his friend, and though he would never admit it, the man who he desired more than anything.

"I know, that's what has kept me alive all these years." He retorted weakly.

"Try and get some sleep." Napoleon told him. "If you are not feeling any better when you wake up, I am going to call a doctor, agreed?"

"Agreed." Illya gave the older man a smile, then he closed his eyes once more, trying to find some refuge against the pain.

Nine

Illya was not sure how long he had actually been asleep for. It had taken him a while, the headache had roared through him like a freight train, but finally he had managed to slip into a troubled doze.

His dreams had been strange, disjointed and fevered more like hallucinations then dreams in fact.

He turned his head and glanced at the clock. It was after four thirty. He had slept practically the whole day. He went to sit up but a wave of dizziness passed though him and he collapsed back down onto the bed again.

He ran his tongue over his lips, he was thirsty...where was Napoleon?

Just then the bed room door opened and his partner entered the room. The dark suit jacket had now been replaced with a wine coloured smoking jacket that bought out the colour of his eyes.

Illya could not help but noticed how good his partner looked.

"Ah you're awake, good." Napoleon walked over to the bed looking down at his stricken partner fondly. "How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty." Illya croaked. "Do you think you could get me some water?"

"Water it is." With that, Napoleon disappeared back out into the kitchen and returned with a jug of water and a glass.

After helping Illya to sit up, he poured the water into the glass and held it to the younger man's lips.

Illya drank deeply, savoring the cool liquid as it trickled down his parched throat.

"Thank you." He managed out, watching as Napoleon placed the now nearly empty glass onto the night stand beside the bed.

"I've made some broth if you'd like some." Napoleon said.

Illya smiled up at him, he was actually feeling better since he'd had that sleep.

"That would be nice." He replied.

Napoleon sat on the edge of the bed as he watched his young friend finished the last of the chicken broth and toast that he had made.

After he had finished, Napoleon took the tray and carried it back into the kitchen once more.

When he returned, he noticed that the bed was empty.

"Illya?"

"In here." A voice called out from the bathroom. Napoleon relaxed, then cursed himself for being such a fool. He had only gone to use the lavatory for heaven's sake. Napoleon scolded himself. Stop acting like a mother hen.

But he could not help it, seeing Illya injured and in pain brought out all of the older man's protective instincts.

Illya always looked so sweet somehow, a blonde haired angel. That's how one of the girl's in the typing pool had described the Russian, as a blonde haired angel, and she was not far wrong, even though he had seen how ruthlessly efficient Illya Kuryakin could be when it came to dispatching THRUSH agents.

After a few moments, Illya emerged from the bathroom, still pale and little wobbly, but he was looking better than he had before.

Napoleon stepped forward to give the younger man a hand, but it was brushed off with an impatient wave.

"I'm fine, really." Illya carefully climbed back under the covers, shivering slightly. He was still running a fever and he was feeling a sudden chill.

"Have you got the heat up Napoleon, it seems cold in here." He said.

Napoleon frowned, it was not cold in here, actually it was quite a warm day.

"I'll get you another blanket." He said as he walked over to the cupboard where the spare blankets were kept.

"Oh, it's cold." Illya's teeth had begun to chatter. Grabbing the spare blanket, Napoleon threw it over the shivering young man.

It did not seem to do any good though, Illya's skin felt like ice. Napoleon rubbed his hands over the younger man's arms, trying to warm him but Illya continued to shake, his lips turning blue.

His body heat had plummeted. Must be due to the head injury and the headaches, Napoleon thought.

He wondered what to do, the heat to the apartment was already turned up full despite the warmth of the day and there were plenty of blankets on the bed.

Finally Napoleon decided that desperate times called for desperate measures. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed into bed with the younger man, wrapping his arms around him in an effort to try and keep him warm.

He could feel the fever coming off Illya in waves, the heat searing through Napoleon's clothes.

Napoleon realized that the only way that he could warm Illya was through using his own body heat, he quickly got up out of the bed and stripped himself off to his boxer's, then climbed back into the bed, gathering the sick man into his arms.

"Freezing." Illya moaned through chattering teeth. His face was pale except for two hectic spots of colour staining his cheeks.

Napoleon held him tighter, feeling the slender body press against his own more solid frame.

After awhile, the tremours subsided and Illya, exhausted now, rested his head against Napoleon's chest.

"You okay?" Napoleon asked. He felt Illya's head nod.

"I don't know why I felt so suddenly cold." He murmured.

"I think it might have something to do with the aftereffects of the concussion." Napoleon told him, without realizing it, he had begun to stroke the younger's man's shoulder gently.

"I'll just lay here for awhile to make sure you're all right."

"Thank you Napoleon." Illya said suddenly. Napoleon glanced down at the blonde head resting against the dark curls of hair on his chest.

Suddenly, without even thinking about it, Napoleon bent down as kissed the top of Illya's head.

Illya smiled and snuggled closer, eyes half closed. He made a soft contented noise, almost like a purr.

Napoleon chuckled. "You sound like a kitten."

"I sound like a what?" Illya looked at him askance.

"A kitten." Napoleon replied, his grin widening. "You just purred."

"I did not." Illya sounded indignant.

"You did." Napoleon held the young man closer. "You did purr Illya, I distinctly heard it.

"Napoleon, I...do...not...purr."

"Yes you did and there's no use arguing about it." Napoleon stated. Illya sighed.

"Do you know that you are a most infuriating man Napoleon." He replied, but despite himself he began to grin.

"Am I." Napoleon suddenly bent to kiss the snowy blonde hair again.

Illya sighed, then shivered again, not from the cold this time. His fever had started to recede and his headache was all but gone.

"Still cold baby?"

"Baby?" Now this was too much, even from a seriously sexy man like Napoleon Solo.

"Well the way you are cuddling up to me." Napoleon replied with a shrug.

"First kitten, now baby, what is this, some sort of seduction?" Illya asked.

"Maybe."

That did make Illya stop, a sudden thread of hope started up inside him.

"Napoleon..." He began, but the older man stopped him.

"Illya, why did you leave the naval service and come to America to work for UNCLE?"

There was silence and for a moment, Napoleon thought that he might have gone too far, frightened the other man off.

Then slowly, almost haltingly, Illya spoke.

"I am not like other men Napoleon." He said slowly. Napoleon could hear the pain in his voice.

"I have never had what you would call a lady friend or anything. I suppose that many of my peers and colleagues thought that there was something wrong with me, that I was less than a man because of my lack of interest with the fairer sex."

"So what you are telling me is that you are homosexual." Napoleon said, it was not a question.

Miserably Illya nodded. "I will leave as tomorrow morning first thing." He said as he went to get out of the bed, but to his surprise a pair of strong arms held him back down.

"You are not leaving tomorrow, or any other time Illya." Napoleon told him firmly.

"You know what I am and you still want me to stay?" Illya was astounded.

Napoleon smiled at him kindly. "I had suspected for some time now, and to be honest I was not quite sure how to...approach you about it, then you got hurt and I was asked to care for you, perfect timing a guess you could say, although I would have preferred it if you had not been almost killed." He added drily.

Illya smiled, touched by his words. "So you are not going to turn away in disgust or report me to Waverly?"

"No." Napoleon replied.

Illya frowned puzzled. "Then what are you going to do?"

"This." And Napoleon bent to kiss Illya once more, only this time he sought his gorgeous partner's mouth...and was gratified when the kiss was returned with passion.