Being partners brought with it certain responsibilities thought Illya as he sat in a chair in Sickbay, waiting for the doctors to inform him of Napoleon's condition. Usually a doctor would speak directly to a patient; that is when the patient was in any condition to speak. But among the section II agents, those that had been partnered for any length of time, it was generally accepted that it was the responsibility, no, the *duty* of ones partner to be the bearer of bad news.

And Illya was indeed afraid that the news would be bad this time. Napoleon had gone missing several days earlier. U.N.C.L.E. had traced him to a previously unknown THRUSH stronghold and launched an assault. A semi-conscious Napoleon, bandage on his head and heavy plaster casts on all four limbs had been located in what appeared to be a medical facility in the building. All he could tell his worried partner was that his car had been forced off the road by some THRUSHIES and he had woken up in the medical facility, "Pretty much as you see me," he had told Illya weakly as he was transferred to the safety of Sickbay.

The doctors had ordered an immediate barrage of tests to ascertain the extent of Napoleon's injuries, and Illya was now waiting impatiently for the results.

Being partners brought with it certain trials. This was by no means the first time that Illya had sat and waited for Napoleon's doctors to tell him what was wrong with his partner and how long before he was healed again. One day he knew that the doctors would tell him that Napoleon couldn't be healed, but as Illya raised his head and saw Doctor Harte approach him, he knew that it would not be *this* day.

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Illya smiled to himself as he closed the door to Napoleon's hospital room and carefully locked it behind him. His partner lay only a few yards away from him; plaster clad limbs propped up on pillows. A few steps later, and Illya was lowering himself gently to the bed beside Napoleon. He lay on his side, as close to his partner as possible, draping his arm protectively over Napoleon's chest.

Napoleon's eyes flickered open and he smiled at Illya. "You certainly took your time getting here."

"Doctor Harte wished to speak with me before I joined you."

There was a quick flash of worry in Napoleon's eyes, but Illya hastened to reassure him. "Shh, there's nothing to worry about. He has run all his tests and promised me that you will make a full recovery." He drew a line gently down the side of Napoleon's face. "But if you ever, *ever* scare me like that again..."

Being partners brought with it certain rewards, one of which was the flash of relief that crossed Napoleon's face. He tried to move his body even closer to Illya's, but groaned in frustration as the casts impeded him.

"Are you in pain?" Illya asked, concern etched in his voice.

"No," Napoleon shook his head. "These things are just a little uncomfortable."

"Ah," Illya traced a line down Napoleon's chest until it was stopped by the bedclothes. "Perhaps there is something I could do to take your mind off this...discomfort..." The hand slid underneath the covers, moving ever downwards until it reached its destination.

This time Napoleon's groan was most definitely *not* one of pain. "Oh God, yes!" he gasped as Illya's fingers gently caressed his most sensitive organ.

A smile flickered on Illya's lips as his fingers played with Napoleon. "It is perhaps fortunate that this was not also covered in plaster when we found you, hmm?" His hand squeezed gently.

"Ve...very fortunate!" Then abruptly the touch was gone, and Illya's hand was sliding back up to Napoleon's chest, but before he could protest the loss, Illya had quickly slid astride Napoleon, positioning himself so as not to touch any of the casts and dipping his head low enough to catch Napoleon's mouth in a deep sensual kiss.

Napoleon tried to rise up, to capture Illya's mouth as it pulled away, but Illya was in the position of power and his hands on Napoleon's shoulders held him gently but firmly in place. "You should try to stay as still as possible," he said. "It will be more comfortable that way."

Napoleon wasn't really in any position to argue. He lay there waiting impatiently as Illya dismounted gracefully from the bed and removed his jacket and tie.

Illya stood beside the bed and reviewed the situation. With Napoleon's movements impeded significantly by the casts, his options were limited. Added to which was the fact that he could only rely on a short period of time before they would be disturbed by the medical staff. And while one of the advantages of being partners and known lovers was that a locked door would not be a cause for alarm, Illya still didn't want to be distracted at any point. So, something quick and simple, with him doing most of the work...

Moments later, Illya had pulled down the bedclothes and rearranged Napoleon's hospital gown to give him a clear field of operations. As expected Napoleon was only half erect. Illya tutted in mock disapproval. "Really Napoleon, do you expect me to do *all* the work?"

Napoleon grinned, "Well I can't exactly give you a helping hand now, can I?"

"True, but I can offer a helping hand to you." Illya rolled up his sleeves and sat down on the bed. Reaching out, he took Napoleon in hand, alternately stroking and caressing until Napoleon's penis was fully erect. And then he leaned over and took it into his mouth.

It was such a simple turn of phrase, and totally inadequate to describe the sensations that Napoleon was feeling. Shakespeare himself wouldn't have had the words to explain how the way Illya's tongue flickering around Napoleon's tip nearly drove him crazy...or how the gentle rhythmic caresses of Illya's hand on the top of his thigh nearly made him scream for more. Napoleon wanted to reach out to Illya, to run his hands through the silky Russian hair...to reach into Illya's pants and make him feel as aroused as Illya was making him feel. But the casts were heavy and awkward and Napoleon had to be satisfied with the touch of Illya's lips and tongue and hands. He vowed that as soon as the casts were removed he would return the favor...with interest. But his promises were soon forgotten as his mind had no room for anything other than his cock in Illya's mouth and the resulting waves of sensation...that all too soon reached a climax...a climax that was all the more intense for not being able to vocalize it as much as he would have liked.

But Napoleon knew that while the medical staff would not be unduly alarmed by a locked door, if he made *too* much noise, they could easily misinterpret the reasons for it, and it would be rather embarrassing to be interrupted.

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

Illya took great care in retying his tie and smoothing down his disheveled hair before sitting back down on the bed beside Napoleon. Gently he caressed his partner's face, soaking up the beads of sweat with his fingers before licking them carefully. "Mmm," he said thoughtfully. "But this tastes much better." He kissed Napoleon gently on the lips blending them so seamlessly together that for an instant it felt like they were a single entity.

"Much much better," agreed Napoleon when Illya had finally released him. He sighed contentedly. "You know, maybe this won't be so bad, being laid up like this. I'm looking forward to your next 'visit'..."

"Ah," said Illya, sliding easily off the bed and out of Napoleon's reach. "I'm afraid that I will not be able to satisfy you this way again until you are no longer wearing these." He tapped lightly on Napoleon's right arm cast.

Napoleon's face fell. "You're not serious...how am I supposed to last until these things come off. It'll be weeks...maybe *months*!"

"Actually, more like half an hour," said Illya, glancing at his watch. "You see, Doctor Harte ran a series of x-rays on you to check your injuries, and it turns out that you don't actually *have* any broken bones, just a few bumps and bruises. The casts were probably part of some fiendish plot by THRUSH...or maybe their medical staff wanted a guinea pig to practice on. In any event, I told Dr. Harte that I would require some time 'debrief' you, before you were released."

"Why you little!"

It was amazing how much mobility Napoleon had once he knew he didn't have to be careful of broken bones, thought Illya. He easily dodged the clumsily thrown pillow before making a strategic withdrawal.

Leaning against the wall outside of Napoleon's room, Illya sighed happily. There were many duties and responsibilities that came with being a partner, a lover, but most of all a friend to Napoleon. But the joys and benefits would always more than make up for them.

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The End