Rating :     Slash

Author's Notes:  No action figures, sorry, Patti <g> This is my first attempt at writing a slash story. I promise to go back to writing general if it's really awful.

Disclaimer : I don't own the characters in the Man From U.N.C.L.E. tv series and I'm not making any money from this.

Feedback: Yes

llya felt as though he was losing his best friend, in truth, his only friend. He watched forlornly as Napoleon emptied his desk and prepared to leave their shared office. This day was bound to come, but it had always seemed as though it would be in the distant future. While he'd always known that his partnership with Napoleon would someday come to an end, he'd refused to dwell on it. Now he had no choice but to face the fact that Napoleon would no longer be an active field agent after today. He was about to retire as CEA of Section Two and join the policy makers in Section One. There were only a few loose ends to tidy up around the office and then he'd be gone.

Without Napoleon, Illya knew he'd be alone. No matter who his next assigned partner would be, the silent grief in his heart spoke to him of abandonment. He settled himself on the couch and watched mournfully, while Napoleon continued packing, acting as though nothing had changed.

Indeed, for Napoleon, very little had changed. He'd reached age forty, the mandatory retirement age for Section Two agents. Over the past year, he'd begun taking on more administrative tasks, readying himself for the transition to Section One. In the past, he'd complained about being forced to relinquish his enforcement career. He'd even attempted to persuade Mr. Waverly to make an exception in his case and raise the age limits. However, Mr. Waverly had been adamant in his refusal. There would be no exceptions.

Napoleon had been assigned fewer field missions to ease the transition. He'd spent more time at headquarters learning to handle the variables of his upcoming placement. It had been difficult at first, knowing that his years in enforcement would soon reach a conslusion. But his self-assurance and naturally positive outlook helped a great deal in facilitating the changing circumstances. It wasn’t long before he discovered that there were many side benefits to what he'd once sarcastically referred to as *the kick upstairs* .

He was elated to be on a first name basis with men he’d once called Sir. There was also an increase in salary as well as less wear and tear on his clothes. Mr. Waverly had been gratified to acknowledge that the budget would no longer be taking into account Mr. Solo’s wardrobe.

Napoleon was also relieved that his duties wouldn’t be sedentary. He knew that he’d never be able to tolerate the job if it meant being confined within the concrete and steel corridors of headquarters on a daily basis. The agents had often speculated upon how often Mr. Waverly actually left the building. He seemed to be available around the clock.

Napoleon's concerns were proved negligible while Mr. Waverly was still in charge. He was pleased to discover that many of his duties would include traveling. Only now he'd be attending to diplomatic and business related matters for UNCLE, rather than acting in an enforcement capacity. So far, Napoleon was gratified with the way everything was turning out.

Besides, had to admit to himself that he couldn't face the physical toll of remaining an active agent forever. It was time to leave the risk and action to the younger agents. Well, all but one of the younger agents, he amended as he looked across the room at his moody blond friend. They really needed to talk this out.

"Illya, why are you angry with me?" Napoleon asked. "Time passes for everyone...even for me. " He knew that his statement wasn't quite true. Illya remained as young and as beautiful as ever. For Illya, time had indeed stood still.

Illya looked up and said, "I'm not angry with you."

"What is it then? Tell me what's troubling you."

"Everything will change. It's just that...," Illya let his words trail off and went back to staring at the floor. He couldn't articulate the depth of the dispair he felt. He knew that he'd be losing Napoleon after today ; a part of himself would be gone forever.

"I'll just be in a different office. You're acting as though I'd died."

"That's not funny!"

"Then tell me the truth. What's wrong, partner?"

"That's just it...I'm not your partner. Not after today," Illya said in a low voice.

"Illya, I'll always be your partner."

"I wish that were so, but everything will change."

Just then, the office door opened and Doug Bradford made an enthusiastic entrance. He’d worked in Napoleon’s section for the past three years and wanted to congratulate his former boss on the move upstairs. Over the past week, most of the enforcement staff had stopped by the office or caught him in the gym, hallways, or cafeteria to offer him their best wishes.

The other enforcement agents considered Napoleon an affable, benevolent boss. He was thought of as almost one of the guys by those that knew him casually. His charm caused more than a few people who only knew him as an acquaintance to consider him a friend.

However, Napoleon was a private man who bestowed his friendship sparingly. Trust and loyalty were required before someone could actually become close enough to really know him. His charm attracted peripheral people like a magnet attracts metal. And like a magnet, he could draw them in or push them away, but always on his own terms.

Doug walked up to him and laid a friendly hand upon his back. Napoleon had to fight off a visceral urge to shrug it off and take a step away to regain a comfortable distance. Such a response would have seemed rude and unprovoked, so he put on a pleasant facade, but cringed inwardly.

He knew rationally that Doug meant well, yet this infringement upon his personal space irked Napoleon beyond reason. It wasn’t that Napoleon disliked touching. He just needed to be the one who instigated the contact, not the other way around. Not unless it was…. He looked towards Illya and knew that if it was Illya’s arm on him, he’d accept the touch as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Illya couldn’t invade his territory, he'd always been included within it.

Illya had been regarding the by play. He saw the pretense beneath Napoleon's pleasantly presented features. No one else would have been aware of the true feelings beneath the handsome visage. Realizing the cause for his friend's discomfiture, Illya stepped in and came to his friend's aid. His replaced his somber expression with his familiar half smile.

He left the couch and went over to Napoleon’s desk, saying, "Have some champagne, Doug. Many of Napoleon's friends have stopped by to congratulate him these past few days. This bottle’s been opened, but it’s still cold. Jennings and Thomson brought it by just an hour ago." Illya lifted the bottle out of the ice bucket that had been left on the desk by the visiting agents.

This got Doug's attention. He removed his arm from Napoleon's back and crossed the room to join Illya.

"We’ll have to settle for plastic cups," Illya said as he poured champagne.

"Sounds alright by me," Doug answered. He took the drink from Illya’s hand and sipped at it while conversing. "So, Illya, you know that my partner decided to transfer back to the Chicago office. That'll leave both of us without partners. Have you teamed up with anyone yet?"

"Not as yet. Right now, everything's up in the air, as they say."

"Well, I was thinking, we're both about the same age. We could be partners. We'd get to know one another's style. Be able to back each other up. It would be better for both of us, working together until we retire. And you already know my record's top notch."

Napoleon didn’t care for the way this conversation was going. He also didn’t appreciate the way Doug was standing too close to Illya. It was bound to make Illya uncomfortable. Now it was his turn to step in and help his friend out by saying, "I’m sorry to put a damper on things, but you’re still on duty, Doug. Only one drink per customer."

"But I’m having a second one, Napoleon," Illya said in a teasing tone.

"Oh, no you’re not, toverishch. Doug has to go back to work. And you’re still on duty as well"

Doug smiled agreeably and said, "I guess you’re still technically the boss, Napoleon."

"Until the end of the day," Napoleon said. "Besides, Illya and I haven't discussed what he'll do yet."

Illya raised an eyebrow and said, "Doug has made some valid points, Napoleon. I might consider taking him up on the offer."

"I'll still be approving the field assignments from upstairs. I had someone else in mind for Doug," Napoleon told Illya. Then he laid a guiding hand on Doug's back as he walked him to the office door. He added, "There's an agent transferring over from the London office. He'll be here before the end of the week. I'd already decided that he'd be the appropriate partner for you."

"You know best, Napoleon. I didn't mean to step on any toes here."

"Not at all, Doug. The paper works already been completed on your next partnership. Thank you for dropping by. I appreciate it."

After Doug departed, Illya snorted in amusement and finished his second drink. Then he asked, "Why did you practically kick poor Doug out the door."

"I did no such thing."

Illya merely gave him a look of patented disbelief and went back to sit on the couch.

"So now you don’t believe your partner?" Napoleon asked in a mock hurt tone.

"Seriously, Napoleon, you're not going to be partners with me any longer. Yet, you prevent anyone else from being my partner. Is that reasonable?"

"I've never been very reasonable where you were concerned. Alright, so we won't be partners any longer. But we'll always be best friends."

"That’s not how life is, Napoleon. First we won’t be partners and then we won’t be friends."

"How can you even think that?" Napoleon asked. His voice was filled with real hurt.

"Because it’s the truth. You’ll make friends amongst your new associates. After a while, we’ll see less of each other. And before long, I’ll hardly see you at all."

Napoleon went to the door and locked it, saying, "We need to talk this over in private." Then he crossed the room to the couch and sat down beside Illya. Their thighs pressed against each others, but neither of them made a move to claim personal space. It just felt right being close to each other, as though they belonged together.

"You can quit Section Two, Illya. You’ve never been partners with anyone other than myself. Maybe for the occasional assignment, but not really."

"It’s a moot point, Napoleon. I’m next in line for CEA. Am I to step down to become a lab assistant?"

"No, you’re to step up. I've discussed this with Waverly and he's in agreement. You can be classified for Section One as my assistant."

"But my work in Section Two is as important to me as it once was to you."

"Then we’re right back where we started from."

"I don’t see any other way. In time, you’ll forget about our friendship. You’ll forget about me."

Napoleon turned towards him and asked harshly, "Is that what you really think about me?"

"No, it's just reality," Illya said sadly. "We never shared the same interests. Other than our work, what do we have in common?."

Napoleon gazed into his friend's luminous blue eyes, intoxicated by their captivating beauty. In an impassioned voice, he told Illya, "We have each other in common. I'll admit it. I love you, Illya. I always have. Partner, friend, everything...what are words? You've been my world since the day Waverly told me I had a partner. I was against having a partner. Then he said, "he's your's" and you walked into the room. You were imprinted on my heart forever."

"That's not quite what he meant," Illya replied with a throaty chuckle. "And yes, I've always loved you as well. How could you not know that?"

"We both always knew it. Isn't that enough to have in common?"

"It is everything."

"Then be my assistant, love. Or make up a new title. Whatever you want. Say you'll stay by me."

Napoleon couldn’t resist tousling Illya’s golden hair. It was angel's hair, as soft as he'd always imagined. He tangled his hand in the silken strands. He placed his other hand beneath Illya's chin and tilted it so that their faces were inches apart. Their eyes locked in a gaze that neither dared break. Breathtakingly blue eyes and passionate hazel eyes met and reflected a burning love for one another. It had always smoldered deep within their souls. Now it was acknowledged.

Illya peered into already dark eyes, darkened further with passion. The cherished face so close to his own was blessed with classically handsome features. He’d often teased Napoleon about his vanity, all the while knowing that it was warranted. The years had only added a distinguished maturity to the visage. He reached out and trailed his sensitive fingers along the face, finally carressing the elegantly chiseled cleft chin. They lingered there, then began gently stroking Napoleon’s cheeks, basking in the love which ignited his very being.

Napoleon leaned towards Illya and brushed his lips so very softly against those pouting lips. Their first kiss was no more than a touch, but the second one was an exploration. Their lips parted. Their tongues darted within each other’s mouths at first tentatively dancing about, then probing deeper. They delight in the taste of their first intimacy.

Illya’s hands grasped Napoleon’s shoulders. He circled his arms around Napoleon in an impassioned embrace. He could feel Napoleon's hard muscles through the fabric of his clothes.

"Let me feel you against me," Illya said huskily. He drew back and pulled his own sweater off, while Napoleon removed his tie and began unbuttoning his suit jacket.

When Napoleon began unbuttoning his shirt, Illya helped him. Their fingers met and tingled with dizzying sensations. They embraced, circling their hands around each other in a tight hug and they kissed deeply again. Their nipples hardened at the contact of skin to skin.

Their hearts pounded as one. Napoleon withdrew his tongue from inside of Illya's mouth and laid a gentle finger on Illya's quivering lips. His tongue traversed Illya's face, licking the fair skin. He traced the sublime features as softly as fingers would search for a message in Braille. Then he kissed each eyelid, feeling the flutter of downy lashes. They both breathed deeply, basking in each other's familiar fragrances. The intoxicating aroma of lust heightened their desire.

Napoleon pushed his hand downwards until it rested on the bulge in Illya’s pants. He felt the same ache in his own groin.

"Da, let me feel you against me," Illya said in answer to the questing hand.

Illya twisted onto his back on the couch and undid his pants and belt. He lifed his hips and ass to work them downwards to around his ankles. His freed cock quivered with desire. The straining shaft stood rock hard, voraciously craving release. Napoleon stood up and slid off his shoes. Then he quickly undid his own pants and pulled them off. He folded them onto a nearby chair, along with his shirt and jacket. Then he turned his attention back to Illya. He pulled off Illya’s shoes and dropped them onto the floor next to his own. Illya lifted his legs so that Napoleon could pull his pants off the rest of the way and tossed them towards the chair. Illya lay on his back, his arms outstretched, awaiting Napoleon.

Napoleon’s stood in awe as his eyes greedily raked across his blond treasure. "God, do you know how sexy and beautiful you are?"

"I don’t want rhetorical questions, I want you, Napoleon," Illya answered. He squirmed on the couch and began reaching for his cock.

"No, love, wait for me," Napoleon told him. He grasped Illya’s hands in his own and kept his hold on them while he straddled Illya on the couch. Then he lowered himself on top of Illya, positioning himself so that his cock pressed against Illya’s cock. Electrifying sensations coursed through both of them. They thrashed together with feverish abandon. Sweat glistened and rolled off of their flushed skin. They panted and moaned with fervid carnality as one cock ground into the other. Body heat and friction swelled them to full arousal.

Now both of their members were wet with pre-cum. The cocks convulsed and tingled with uncontrollable spasms. The stimulation of head and shaft against head and shaft excited them beyond endurance. First Illya and then Napoleon climaxed.  Their fluids mingled and their spent organs lay pressed against each other, satisfied by such a thrilling release.

Napoleon  lay on top of Illya,  both of them panting, hardly able to speak. Then Napoleon braced himself with his arms. He looked deep into Illya's eyes and said, "I do love you, you know. This was only a beginning. He grinned and added, "And now you know you're mine."

"But that applies to you as well, Napoleon. You are also mine."

"Always, love. We belong to each other."

They kissed for a while longer before Napoleon rolled over and stood up. Illya remained on the couch for a few moments before getting up and standing alongside him.

"We’d be showering together now if we were both in the new office. It has an attached bathroom with a shower. Plus a couch that can be pulled out into a bed,"  Napoleon said.

"That does have its advantages," Illya said thoughtfully.

"Then you’re willing to come with me, love?"

"Yes, Napoleon, I’ll always be willing to come with you," Illya answered.

The End