He sighed inwardly. Up until Napoleon, he'd considered personal space
a blessing, but now he was wishing... But wishing did no good.

"Yes, drawing straws it is." He repeated, trying to stay cool.

"Unless you want to share." Napoleon shrugged, his voice playful.

"I wouldn't be adverse to it," Illya chimed. At Napoleon's raised
eyebrows, he hastily added, "It is a common practice in Russia. We
often have entire families sleeping in one bed."  Illya didn't
realize eyebrows could climb that far up a forehead.

"Entire families?" Napoleon said skeptically.

"Entire families. Of course, they tend to be the smaller families. A
man. A woman. Four or five kids."

Napoleon laughed. He loved Illya's dry wit. He also loved Illya's
ability to keep that wit even when banged up after an assassination
attempt. And he loved Illya's mouth, with the full lower lip...
Napoleon cleared his throat, dragging himself away from that
particular subject. Especially if they were going to sleep in the
same bed.

"Yes, I think the same bed would be the best way to solve the
dilemna."

"Of course," Napoleon replied with a smile. **I just hope it doesn't
get replaced by another dilemna like explaining to my male partner
just why I have an erection from just lying next to him.** Since he
couldn't very well tell Illya he didn't want to sleep with him
because he wanted to, well, SLEEP with him, he decided he'd just make
the best of it and stay on the very edge of the bed.

******************

Alexander Waverly put in calls to the local newspapers. Every one of
them assured him the same thing: the obituary for Illya Kuryakin
would run the very next day.

---

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