~Napoleon and Illya's Anniversary Pt.IV~

Napoleon sighed, head dropping down to the pillow. Illya crawled back up to lie alongside him.

"Was I good?"

He reached out to stroke the blond's cheek, taking a moment just to look at him, think about him, marvel over him. It was funny, how Illya could just finish doing the most explicit, acrobatic, dirty things, and then look at him through the fringe of his eyelashes and blush like a shy virgin.

"Always." Napoleon whispered, leaning over to kiss him. "I wish I had remembered sooner, about our anniversary... I-- I didn't get you a gift."

Illya chuckled softly, snuggling up to Napoleon's side. "A gift? Do you really think I would need material goods as proof of your devotion when you insist upon spending an inordinate amount of time making love to me?"

"I thought it was entirely ordinate." He defended, smiling.

"We found out too late to buy proper gifts, we both did. What with the stay in medical and all the running around we had to do in the interim, that is. It doesn't matter, we don't need to buy each other presents."

"I would've liked to. I should have at least picked up a box of chocolates or something..."

"Like roses?" He rolled his eyes. "Don't bother. I have what I want right here. After all that's happened to us..."

"Shh... hush." He rocked Illya gently. "We have Leamas and Williams. We have the moles, and we know that at least one of Williams' THRUSH contacts is dead. We'll find the others."

"Once we do have all of the information we require, I am going to derive great pleasure out of removing Leamas' top layer of skin. Potato peeler or cheese grater, do you think?"

"You are one bloodthirsty little bugger, aren't you?"

"Last time, you had some interesting ideas yourself."

"Waverly wouldn't let us, though."

"Leamas is a traitor. Someone will have to dispose of him, I should think."

"No, I think as the good guys, we just keep him locked up."

"He would survive after losing just the first layer of skin." Illya shrugged.

"Let it go. We have each other back again, and Leamas is in custody. He's not going to do it again, he's not going to ruin anybody's life the way he tried to ruin ours. And you still get to slap him around until he talks. Illya, I don't want you getting too caught up in this revenge thing. We've got him, and he's paying for his crimes, but you know that nothing you do to him is going to change the past. Come on, love. You've let go of a lot of things in the past. Let go of this now. We both have to, and it's hard. It's hard to forget about the pain he caused when I see you so affected by what he did."

Illya nodded. "I see your point, Napoleon. I don't mean to focus on the negative, but... you were all I had, and he took you from me, and when it all came back, I felt the pain like it was happening again, and the way he persecuted us, just for-- Letting go isn't easy sometimes."

"You've put worse behind you."

"I have had a lot of time to forget some things."

"I'm here to help you now."

"I can't forgive him."

"I'm not asking you to forgive, just to move past. It's over now."

"I'll never forget what he did to us."

"No, but you don't have to dwell on it."

"My, you are being the voice of reason tonight. I'll let go, then. I'll try. You'll help."

They spent a moment in silence, then Napoleon spoke up.

"If we hadn't been working so hard and I had had a chance..."

"Mm?"

"To buy you a present." He clarified. "What would I have bought you?"

"How should I know?"

"How about plane tickets to Aruba? And a bungalow on the beach for the weekend. And a bathing suit that leaves little to the imagination..."

"That would be a present to yourself, 'pasha." Illya said wryly.

"I can still mix us up some margaritas and rub lotion into your back. There'd just be less sun and sand."

"If I had had time to buy you a gift..." Illya mused, settling closer to Napoleon with a smile. "Ah, yes. Satin sheets. In a sort of champagne colour, I think that would set you off to an advantage. Yes... you would look beautiful lying on a bed of champagne-coloured satin. It would look just right next to your skin and hair and eyes. Definitely an ideal backdrop for you."

"Again, that sounds suspiciously like a present to yourself." Napoleon smirked.

"But think of the feel against your skin... every night, on your mattress. And when I can't be with you, you can feel the smooth, cool satin against your cheek, under your fingers... maybe it would remind you of making love."

"I hate to break it to you, Illya, but it doesn't take a whole heck of a lot to remind me of making love."

"No, I didn't labour under the illusion that it did, but still... perhaps the sheets would provide a more vivid memory of me."

"Tell you what..." Napoleon wrapped his arms even more tightly around Illya's midsection. "Tomorrow, we'll go out and buy two new sets of sheets... one champagne satin for me-- or rather, for you. And one black for you-- that is, for me. The pajamas Aunt Amy sent last year taught me that nothing brings out the glowing beauty that is you better than the black and silky."

"Mm?"

"Your pale, translucent glow, your golden hair, all highlighted against black satin sheets... just picturing it is enough to send shivers down my spine, Illya. Tomorrow, I'm buying those sheets for us."

"Then tomorrow night I'll have to find an excuse to come over again."

"It's late."

"Mm."

"Goodnight, Illya mine. Sleep tight."

"Napasha moj... dream of me?"

"I always do."

"Goodnight."