Debbie Date: Th May 25, 2000 1:55pm Subject: The Going to College Affair part Two Thanks everybody for the encouragement! ************************
Napoleon's attempt at hauling the assailant of Illya's largely covered figure was not entirely unsuccessful as he crashed to the floor, and in this close proximity Napoleon could tell he reeked of beer and cigarettes.
"Hey, man, what was that for?" the guy asked indignantly.
Napoleon thought he vaguely recognised him from one of the sports teams. Swimming maybe?
"What do you think?" Napoleon asked, steely voiced even though he wasn't sure what he himself was thinking at the moment. He had never really thought about two men together, all he knew was stories he had been told.
"What's it too you? I mean, he's just a fucking queer, he had it coming." the guy shrugged his shoulders and looked generally unrepentant.
"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. It's none of your business, and I will not tolerate rapists in my room. Now get out while I decide if I should call the police or not. " Napoleon threatened.
His unknown adversary scrambled backwards and away, towards the door and away from his balled fists. Napoleon locked the door after him. While he was busy with the key chain he heard some scuffling noised behind him and turned to face his slender roommate. Illya was standing a foot away from the bed, is blue flannel pyjamas pants rumpled and his chest bare. He had several red marks that looked like they would be spectacular bruises the next day, as well as several older, fading bruises.
"So, are you?" Napoleon asked, approaching him
"Am I what?" Illya asked back, his voice even more quite and shy than usual.
"Gay? Queer? " Napoleon clarified.
"No. " came the clear and definite answer. "Now, if you'll excuse me?" he muttered and stumbled into the bathroom as quickly as he could.
Napoleon could only hear the shower running for several minutes and was getting more and more worried. Admittedly, he had only been bunking with Illya for about a week now, and they hadn't grown into a friendship or anything yet, but some of those bruises looked nasty. Napoleon was seriously starting to worry about internal injuries when the shower was turned off and Illya stumbled out.
They looked at each other in slight surprise, Napoleon noting that Illya's hair was still completely dry but shiny as raw silk and that his eyes where red-rimmed, Illya noting that Napoleon was actually in about the same place he had been left.
At Napoleon's frank appraisal, Illya ducked his head shyly, and headed over to his cupboard as Napoleon's gaze followed him across the room. He took out a small jar of what looked like small dried flowers, walked over to his bed and fishing out a small water cooker. As he filled it with water, he noticed Napoleon's surprised look.
"You're not supposed to have that here you know. 'No cooking in the rooms' "Napoleon pointed out.
"So?" Illya shrugged "Plenty of people do it. Besides, I do not always want to go down to the kitchen to boil myself some water."
As Illya dropped some dried flowers in, Napoleon wandered over, noticing that as he did Illya changed his stance ever so slightly. Just enough to minimise the chance of getting hit in a tender spot, just enough to still be able to get away.
"What is that? " Napoleon asked, hoping to go for something non-threatening while Illya shuffled about nervously.
"Chamomile." Illya answered, moving over to his bed and sitting on it.
"You know, you look like that jerk hit you pretty hard " Napoleon said moving over to the bed too to trace a bruise on Illya's shoulder. He was slightly hurt when Illya jerked away but reasoned that after this evening he probably had a reason.
"Are you?" Illya asked.
"Gay? No, I'm bisexual. I prefer women" Napoleon answered, doing him the curtesy of not misunderstanding. "Maybe we could work something out?" he suggested.
"What do you mean?" Illya asked, his eyes narrowing slightly
"You do me the odd favour, I make sure jerks like that one, what's his name anyway, don't bother you any more" Napoleon offered, eyeing some of the more prominent markings. Illya shuddered, feeling Napoleon's eyes trace his slender body from his standing position.
"If your looking for somebody to fulfil your...needs...I am not interested. " Illya stated, his voice hard and colder than Napoleon's had ever been.
"I didn't mean that" Napoleon said, although he had been thinking in a similar direction. Quickly thinking he suggested "My Russian is appalling and if I don't show my Grandmother some good grades by the end of the term she'll stop funding college for me. It wouldn't be for long, and maybe only an hour or two a week? In return, I could put some pressure on some of the jerks who have been bugging you".
Illya looked at him for a moment, then stared into his steaming teacup for a moment.
"You would exchange protection for some language lessons?" he asked, unsure
"Yes" Napoleon decided, figuring this would also be a good opportunity to learn more about his roommate.
"So, who was that jerk, and how did he get in here?"
"Tommy Whitaker, and through the door" Illya replied, putting his half empty cup on the bedside cupboard and moving over to the very end of the bed as Napoleon perched on the side.
"Through the door? Didn't you lock it and put the chain on?" Napoleon asked, concerned.
"Yes, I locked it. At least, I think I did. " Illya replied unsurely, and ducked his head again as he flushed scarlet.
"Well, the chain is on now, we won't be bothered any more tonight. Or should I say this morning? " Napoleon said, moving to his own bedside and stripping. "I think it would be best if we got some sleep. We've got the same class in the morning, we'll got here together." he suggested and was rewarded with a small, sweet smile from Illya.
At that moment Napoleon's heart melted but then he sternly reminded himself 'he's already been beat up and almost raped tonight, he doesn't need you going all doe-eyed over him' and turned away, abruptly. He didn't see Illya's face fall at the perceived rejection of his friendship, or the anguish as Illya decided that a cool, detached way was probably the best way to deal with his newfound protector.
That night neither slept very well, Napoleon troubled by what he had seen this evening, Illya plagued by silent nightmares.
************* That's all for tonight folks!