It was dark, but Illya was lucky enough to land on something soft. The Solo luck had obviously temporarily deserted Napoleon, as he was the something soft that Illya had landed on. Slight of build though the Russian may have been, he still was a fair weight to have land on top of a person...especially when said person was still dazed from having just been swallowed up by a couch. For that reason, among others, Napoleon wasn't feeling overly happy about the situation.

"Napoleon?" hissed Illya, urgently, even as his hands roamed Napoleon's body, checking for a pulse. "Are you all right?"

"Uggh," groaned Napoleon, "What...what happened? Why is it so dark?"

Illya crouched beside him and helped him to sit up. "Don't you remember? The couch swallowed you up and I jumped in after you."

"Heh, couch swallowed me...heh, good one Illya, and people say you don't have a sense of humor."

"I am *not* joking. Do I look as if I am joking?"

Napoleon reached out blindly and touched Illya's face. Tracing the familiar features, he was forced to concede that Illya did not at least feel like he was joking. The lack of a grin and the way his teeth were clenched was a dead giveaway. "Illya...nobody can be swallowed up by a couch...it's ridiculous. I mean the guy who sold it to me said it was rumored to have a curse on it, but come on, that's just superstition."

Even without any light, Napoleon could still tell when Illya was glaring at him. "Only *you* could buy a cursed couch and use it at Halloween," he said, through gritted teeth. He felt Napoleon's hand on his knee and brushed it off impatiently as he stood.

"Hey, it's not as if I did it deliberately." Napoleon stood as well and reached out for his partner. "Illya?" There was a hand on his arm and Napoleon could feel Illya standing beside him. "I'm here, Napoleon," he sighed. "It's not as if we can go anywhere. If we even had some light."

"Don't you have any matches?"

"We're stuck inside a couch, Napoleon. They tend to be rather flammable...lighting a match might not be the best course of action."

"Oh...yeah...hey wait a minute..." Napoleon started fumbling in his pockets. "Hope I didn't drop this..." Finally he produced his communicator and twisted it to reveal a small but powerful beam of light. "Section 8 had a few of these baby's made up for us to try."

"A torch in the communicator? How ingenious," said Illya. "Let me see it...I wonder how they managed to make the bulb so small. But why did they not let me have one?" There was a note of disappointment in his voice.

"Maybe because the last time they gave you something to test you dismantled it totally on them." Napoleon shone the torch around them to check out their surroundings. It didn't take long. All around them were soft walls. A quick check of the floor showed it to be made of the same heavy canvas as the walls. "Do you think we could cut through this?" As if in response to his words, there was a low growl and the walls shook slightly.

"I don't think it wants us to do that," said Illya.

"But what does it want?"

"Maybe it's hungry." There was another growl.

"You could be right...that definitely sounded like a stomach rumbling."

"Actually that was me." The light shone in Illya's face and he put his hand up in annoyance to shield his eyes. "Hey, I told you I was hungry!"

"Well we have to find some way of getting out of here. What if we try contacting Headquarters?"

"Oh yes, and tell them what exactly?" Illya imitated Mr. Waverly's voice, "What's that gentlemen? You're stuck inside a couch? Hmm, I think you've gotten your holidays mixed up. This is Halloween, not April Fools Day."

"Mmm, you could be right."

"Aren't I always?" Illya thought for a minute, "But I'm starting to think that your idea about matches might be a good one..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "If this couch is really planning on eating us...then maybe we could give it a little indigestion..."

"And maybe it'll spit us back up! But what if it doesn't work?"

"Have you got a better plan?"

Napoleon shook his head. "Okay then...what have we got that's easily flammable?" Even without shining the light on him, he could feel Illya's smile.

-------------------

"This had better work," growled Napoleon as Illya carefully ripped his shirt into strips. He shivered slightly and pulled his jacket closed around his bare chest.

"Cotton is flammable and with a low ignition point," said Illya, crouching over the strips of cloth and striking his matches. "This should generate enough smoke to tickle the couch's throat...or what passes for a throat." He grunted in satisfaction as the cloth caught fire. "Okay, be ready..." Illya held his jacket over the smoldering bundle of cloth hoping to build up a nice cloud of smoke...preferably before his jacket caught fire as well.

Illya's plan worked...but almost too well... They could feel the walls around them start to shake and quiver. But a sudden spasm made Illya drop the flaming shirt onto the ground beneath then. Before he could stamp it out, there was another more intense spasm. "Hang on," he warned Napoleon, who promptly wrapped his arms around Illya.

"Just making sure nobody gets left behind," he said into Illya's ear. It felt like there was a minor earthquake happening all around them. The walls were shaking, the floor too, and the next thing both men knew, they were rolling over the cushions of the couch and landing heavily on the floor, still entwined in each others arms.

Illya was the first to react, "I hate to break it to you Napoleon, but I think your couch is on fire..." He was right, as there were flames appearing in the gap at the back of the couch. Both of them scrambled quickly to their feet. "I've got an extinguisher in the kitchen," yelled Napoleon, "There's one in the public hallway as well." Hurrying to the kitchen, Napoleon quickly retrieved it and started hosing down the couch. Hearing Illya run back into the room, he was expecting him to join in; only to stand back in shock as the Russian wielded not a fire extinguisher...but a fire axe.

"Illya! You can't just cut up my couch!"

Illya looked at Napoleon, a gleam in his eyes, "Napoleon...it is not safe...it must be destroyed!"

Reluctantly Napoleon stood back and allowed Illya to dismember the couch. As each segment was rendered into firewood, he played the extinguisher over it, making sure the flames were fully dissipated. Finally there was nothing left except a large pile of burnt velvet and shattered wood in the middle of Napoleon's formerly pristine living room.

"My couch!" said Napoleon, a little dolefully as he surveyed the mess. He glanced over at the smoke and sweat stained Illya who was still brandishing the fire axe. "Where are we going to sit *now*?"

"I'm sure we can find somewhere comfortable," replied Illya, an evil grin on his face.

Napoleon's face lit up in response.

It fell slightly as Illya continued, "But only *after* dinner...chopping up couches is hungry work!"

----------------------------

Later, much later, after both Illya's and Napoleon's appetites had been well satisfied, the two men lay entwined in each others arms in Napoleon's bed.

"Napoleon?" said Illya, sleepily. "You didn't happen to buy any other cursed furniture, did you?"

Napoleon, equally sleepy, replied, "No...don't think so...check in the morning...."

Meanwhile in the living room, the credenza sat and waited, knowing that someday soon, its time would come.

------------------------

The End

Ceindreadh

notes - I admit that I took just a little inspiration both from one of the Bond movies where we see a couch of Q's designed to swallow up and trap enemy agents. Also a Mars Bar ad where a couch swallows up a guy and his Mars bar only to spit him and the wrapper out a few seconds later!