Genre: Slash, but G rated
Word Count: 1365
Prompt: Illya finds a basket of kittens just in time for the holidays.
jk and lindafishes8, I hope you enjoy your Christmas story! I certainly did have fun writing it! :D
Illya walked the last half block to Del Floria’s Tailor shop at a brisk pace. It was freezing, too cold for snow, although the forecasters had promised it was going to be a white Christmas.
Illya didn’t really mind. He still had shopping to do. He’d gotten everyone on his list something, except for his partner, Napoleon.
At the mere thought of the man’s name, a warm feeling started in Illya’s toes and shot upwards, it tarried briefly around his groin, then headed straight for his heart. Soon he’d be picking Napoleon up at the airport.
Illya checked his watch. Napoleon’s plane didn’t get in until two. He had from now to then to come up with something. Surely not another tie or cuff links. No, it had to be extraordinary. He’d talked with April and Mark, with George and anyone else who might have an idea. He’d be surprised if Waverly wasn’t aware of his plight. The man seemed to know everything, often even before the thought occurred to the owner.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he tripped on the box and nearly face planted on Del Floria’s threshold.
“Mr. Kuryakin, are you all right?” One of UNCLE’s many Del Floria’s was by his side. “What happened?”
Illya felt like seven kinds of idiots. He was a trained agent and he trips on a box at the entrance to headquarters. He got to his feet and flexed various muscles. “I seem to be, but that is a careless place to leave something.”
“It wasn’t there when I arrived.” Del took a step back. It wouldn’t be the first time THRUSH had tried the direct approach.
Illya cautiously touched the box, ready to retreat instantly if there was an adverse reaction. Nothing happened. “Del, do you have a yardstick I can use?”
The agent disappeared into the shop and returned a moment later. He passed the stick to Illya, who slowly used it to flip up one of the boxes flaps. Nothing happened and he looked inside.
“Oh, no!” He snatched up the box and raced into the tailor shop with it. “Warm towels, Del or anything warm.” The man piled the clothing on to counter and Illya gently lifted a tiny kitten out of the box and wrapped it up. He repeated the action four more times.
“Are they dead?”
“No, but they are very cold.” Illya began to rub one, then the other. Del followed suit. “I need something for them, something warm to drink.”
“Milk?” Del moved off.
“Or water. Anything to get them warm inside.” Illya reached for the phone and hurried dialed a number. “Miss Fremont, would you be as kind as to bring a syringe to the agent’s entrance? The smallest one you have. Yes, I’ll explain when you get here.” He held the tiny body close. “Just be strong for a few minutes more.” He murmured softly to the tabby.
“What would possess someone to leave kittens out on a day like this?”
“I have no idea, my friend.” Illya set the tabby, now squirming in his grasp, to lift up another one, tucking it under his chin. “People don’t think, unfortunately.”
Within an hour, the news of Illya’s discovery had shot through the building. Another thirty minutes and three of the kittens had found new homes, their owners holding the small bodies close.
His office door opened and Mr. Waverly entered. Illya quickly returned the kitten to its remaining sibling and adjusted his jacket. “May I help you, sir?”
Waverly seemed to be looking for something. “Not at all, Mr. Kuryakin. I am assuming you are on track to pick up Mr. Solo this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.” Although how he was going to pull that off was a mystery.
Waverly harrumphed. “I thought you might need someone to look after your kittens.”
“My… my kittens, sir?”
“Possession is nine tenths of the law, Mr. Kuryakin.” Waverly’s voice soften. “Might I see them?”
Illya smiled hesitantly and pulled the cardboard box out. “These are the two left. A little boy and a girl. I think the girl might be the runt.” He placed it on the desk and opened it so Waverly could peer in.
“They are so small.” Waverly said, as he reached in to stoke the closest one. It rose to his touch. “So small.”
“Yes, sir. I’m estimating that they are about five weeks old. They are eating solid food at least.”
“They need someone to give them a good home. Someone with a kind and loving heart.”
Illya felt his cheeks flush. “Yes, sir.”
“Only two? Did the rest…”
“No, sir, they have been adopted by others.” The image of George, a little ball of fluff held close to his face made Illya smile.
“I think you have found Mr. Solo’s gift.”
“How did you…? Of course.” Illya grinned, an unguarded charming smile. “Never mind, sir.”
“Do you… ah… need someone to tend to your charges while you pick up Mr. Solo?”
“I do, sir.” Illya pushed the box closer to Mr. Waverly. “Would you…?”
“Indeed, I would.” He eagerly took the box. “And drive carefully, Mr. Kuryakin, do not take any risks.”
Illya nodded, the message clear. “Yes, sir, all due caution.”
Their apartment looked a celebration of the season. Napoleon had to have a tree, one that nearly brushed the ceiling, and it was decorated until the branches bowed with the weight of the ornaments. Beneath it were gifts from friends and co-workers. A fire crackled happily and Illya was content in Napoleon’s embrace. It felt so odd and yet so wonderful.
Napoleon kiss his temple. “Happy, my love?”
“I am,” Illya admitted. “For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m right where I need to be.” Illya titled his head back for a kiss. “It’s almost impossible to believe I’m even here with you.”
“It’s impossible to believe how much time we wasted getting here.” Napoleon adjusted his position slightly. “So what did you ask Santa for for Christmas?”
“Already got my present when you stepped safely off that plane.”
“You’re a cheap date.”
“You have no idea.” Illya sipped his drink. “And you?”
“I can’t think of anything I want or need.” He tightened his grip on Illya’s waist.
“And wasn’t it a pleasure shopping for you?”
“It wouldn’t be the same if I was easy.” Napoleon’s murmured comment tickled Illya’s ear.
“However, eventually the perfect gift found me, as is often the case. I turned around and there is was.”
“Speaking of such, where is it?”
“This is Christmas Eve, Napoleon.”
“Well, there’s a longstanding tradition about opening one gift on Christmas Eve.”
“I see and why had I not heard of this before?”
“Because I didn’t think of it until just now?”
Illya turned in his embrace. “Do you really want your gift now?” Napoleon’s grin was his answer. “Alright, stay there and I will get it.”
“It’s not under the tree?”
“No,” Illya said, getting to his feet. “You’re a spy, after all. I couldn’t have you figuring it out early. I’ll be right back.”
He returned a moment later with a white box, tied up with a bright red ribbon and bow. “Merry Christmas Napoleon.”
“Well, at least it’s not cuff links or a tie.” Napoleon shook the box gently. “I hear… what the…?” He tore off the top and the two kittens inside popped out. “Kittens? You got me kittens?”
“They were abandoned in front of Del’s and nearly froze to death. They’re survivors, just like us.”
“But kittens, Illya?” He picked up one and it started purring like mad, a raspy sounding noise.
“Well, I thought it might help. You were with women for a long time and I thought you might need a little pus—“
Napoleon kissed him then and there. Their humans thus engaged, the two kittens wandered off, towards the tree anxious to explore their new world and their new life just as the two men, limbs entwined looked to explore theirs.