The Britslash Xmas Challenge Submission
The Snowball Affair
by elfin
Napoleon stared at the blond head resting against his shoulder, the oh-so-familiar
face peaceful in sleep, and wondered at it.
A single snowball. That was all it had taken to get what he'd wanted
for over a year. And he hadn't even thrown it!!
....
"Napoleon!"
One moment they were walking along the snow-laden pavement, talking quietly
about the last mission and making vague plans for Christmas Day.
The next, he was talking to himself. Illya's call of his name had
sounded calm enough not to set the adrenaline pumping, but then Illya was
always calm and Napoleon's innate reactions to danger had long since accounted
for that.
Turning, hand reaching for his gun, Napoleon was hit by a snowball to his
left shoulder.
For a moment all he could do was stare, eyes trying to leave his head, at
his stoic Slavic partner standing a few yards away scooping up more ammo.
There was snow on the long, black winter coat. Snow on the black gloves.
Ten seconds later there was snow in the golden blond hair as Illya ducked
Napoleon's return fire and it hit the lamppost just behind him.
Illya's second snowball hit its mark - dead centre of Napoleon's chest.
He staggered back in mock injury before once again going on the offensive.
In the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder when his own Illya had
been swapped for this new model. The expression of joy on the Russian's
face amazed Napoleon. Such pleasure taken from a simple, childish game.
Illya laughed when Napoleon's third snowball actually hit him, exploding
on impact with the front of his coat, spraying him with white powder.
Napoleon realised that the laughter made all his efforts worth while.
Every moment he'd invested winning his partner's trust, getting him to open
up a fraction more each time they spoke, felt as if it had culminated in this
snowy scene.
He was in love and he knew it.
He'd been denying it since their first mission together but there was no
denying it now.
Illya looked like an angel in the soft amber glow of the street lamp.
The ice crystals glittered in his hair. His red cheeks, breath softly
huffing from his lips, visible in the biting chill of the air.... Napoleon
wanted to unwrap him - take the red scarf (Napoleon's Christmas gift to him
last year) reverently from around his neck, unbutton the long, thick coat,
peel off the warm black gloves finger by finger....
"Napoleon?"
Noticing his partner's preoccupation, Illya had closed the distance, was
standing a couple of inches from Napoleon.
All he had to do was reach out and touch. He dusted the snow from
the blond hair, fingers lingering.
"Napasha?"
The quiet endearment undid him. The happy quirk of Illya's smile,
the dancing joy in his eyes... moving his hand over Illya's cheek, Napoleon
brushed his thumb over a full bottom lip. He felt his partner's breath
on his skin, warm in the cold night. Leaning forward slowly, he touched
a kiss to Illya's mouth.
Around them, nothing moved. Napoleon held his breath, hoping he was
welcome, hoping the feelings emerging between them weren't only in his head.
A moment's hesitation became a lifetime.
Illya tilted his head and parted his lips, touching his tongue to the tip
of his partner's.
Napoleon smiled as he moved away just a fraction. "I believe Santa's
due down my chimney anytime now."
Illya frowned, but he couldn't hide his smile behind it for long.
"If that's your rather twisted way of inviting me to stay the night, I accept."
....
Napoleon recalled his grin. And the ice cold hands that later found
bare skin below the layers of clothing.
Breathing a blissfully happy sigh, he dropped a kiss to Illya's hair before
resting his chin on the mussed blond mop.
"Happy Christmas, Llushka."
fin
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