spikesgirl58 (spikesgirl58) wrote,

The final chapter in The Alphabet Affair

Title: The Alphabet Affair - Chapter X,Y & Z
Author: Spikesgirl58
Genre: slash
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1422
Prompts: X – Xenial, Y - yearning, Z – Zenith

I just wanted to take a moment to thank various people. I have never written anything like this before and this last chapter marks the end of a twenty-month adventure, first set forward by Akane42me in MFUWSS. I thank her for never petering out and sticking with it. I thank Sparky955 for her never-ending support and help. . Now that it's done, I look forward to actually collecting it into one piece of work. And I thank everyone who stuck with me and this story and helped me to beta this It's been a hell of a ride!

Illya let his suitcase drop to the floor and looked around his apartment. “Talk about home, sweet home.”

“Isn’t it amazing how good it looks?” Napoleon poked his head in from the hallway. “No matter how humble?”

“Hey, not all of us have wealthy aunts bankrolling us.” Illya slipped off his suit coat and draped it over a convenient hook on the coat rack.

“You know… Napoleon paused and took a deep breath. “It doesn’t have to be that way. There’s plenty of room at my place and--”

Illya touched a finger to Napoleon’s lips. “For now, let’s keep things as they are.” He gestured expansively. “It’s not much, but it’s mine and for the first time in my life, I can do as I will.” At Napoleon’s crestfallen look, he added. “I’m not saying forever, Napoleon, just until we get things onto an even keel."

“It’s just for the first time in my life, I know what I want. I know who I’m fighting for. I don’t want to waste any more time.”

“It’s not wasting, it’s investing.” Illya picked up his suitcase and carried it through to the bedroom. He dropped it onto the bed and bent to pick up a towel. Suddenly the towel was dropped and his gun was out. Napoleon followed suit, even without knowing why.

“Illya, what’s wrong?”

“Someone has been here.”

“Yes, you left Grigory here sleeping off a snootful, although looking back on it, he probably wasn’t. You could probably afford to be a bit less xenial with your place.”

“Grigory isn’t a stranger, well, he wasn’t a stranger, but that was days ago. That towel is still wet.” Illya walked to the bathroom and pushed open the door. The shower curtain was freckled with drops of water. “Someone has been here and recently.”

“They broke into your place and took a shower?” Napoleon re-holstered his weapon. “They must not know about your super’s tendency to turn off the hot water on warm days.”

“This isn’t funny, Napoleon.” Illya went back to his jacket and rummaged through his pocket until he found his communicator. “Open Channel D, please. Security.”

“Security here.”

“Who recently entered my apartment?”

“One moment. We have you entering five minutes ago.”

“And before that?”

“Forty five minutes ago, you entered and then exited thirty minutes later.”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Whoever it was used your code, Illya. Who has it?”

“Napoleon and me, that’s it.”

“We’ll change it to --”

“No, I have reason to believe this communique is unsecured. I will meet with you and get it in person. Until then, action plan Charlie.”

“Understood. Security out.”

“You think you have a bug?” Illya nodded slowly and Napoleon took his jacket off. “I’ll start with the kitchen.”

Two hours later, Napoleon collapsed onto the couch and lifted his stocking feet to the coffee table. “Nothing. I can’t believe it.”

Illya ran a hand through his hair and it responded by sticking up at odd angles. “Where else haven’t we looked?”

“Nowhere. The nice thing about your apartment is that there’s not much here.” Illya sounded disgusted as he flopped down beside Napoleon. “I’ll have security do a more thorough sweep tomorrow. You want something to drink?”

“Scotch, if you have it.”

“I should have a bottle somewhere.” Illya walked to the cupboard he used for liquor storage and opened it. Something fluttered out and Illya snatched it before it hit the floor. “Napoleon, did you check my liquor cabinet?”

“No, you were over there. Why?”

Illya held the paper closely, scanning it. “Let’s go.”

“Go? We just got here.” Napoleon dropped his feet from the table. “What do you have that’s so important?”

“It’s a list of Vickrey’s contacts. I can only think of one way it got here.”


“That was nice.” Illya sighed happily, stroking his stomach.

“I told you that you’d like it. I can’t believe after all this time you’d never--”

Illya sat up to kiss Napoleon, his tongue licking the sweet remnants of the whipped cream left behind. “First time for everything.”

“But banana splits, Illya! This is practically an American institution.” Napoleon returned the kiss, then collected the dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen. “See what happens when you yield to temptation.”

“Perhaps later I can teach you a Russian tradition,” Illya murmured twisting his fingers in his hair. His communicator beeped and he grabbed it. “Kuryakin.”

“Those contacts paid off, Mr.… ah, Kuryakin. We have a dozen teams going in now to the addresses cited upon that sheet. Well done. You did very well.”

Napoleon made a face and patted his chest as he sat a tray down on the coffee table. Illya grinned. “Thank you, sir. Mr. Solo also played a role in obtaining those.”

There was a pause. “Ah, yes, I’m sure he did. I will see both of you in two days.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” Illya twisted off the communicator and dropped it to the table.

“Wow, two days for saving the free world. He’s getting giddy in his old age.” Napoleon carefully poured coffee into cups. Unlike his tea, which Napoleon knew Illya liked sweet, he liked his coffee black. He passed over one cup and turned his attention to his own, adding cream and sugar. “Anything you are particularly yearning for, besides about twelve hours of sleep?”

“Two days.” Illya sipped and set it aside. His smile was devilish. “However are we going to occupy ourselves for two days?”

The smile was not lost on Napoleon. “Oh, I could think of a few things. After all, we aren’t on assignment now.” He reached out for Illya, but stopped at Illya’s suddenly worried expression. “What’s wrong?”

There was a long sigh. “What about tomorrow? And the day after that? Napoleon, you have quite the track record with the ladies at work. What happens with that?”

“Illya, have you ever spoken to any of women I’ve dated.”

“Of course, every day… oh, you mean about what the two of you did? No, that would be rude and none of my business.”

“Or anyone else’s. If you did ask, you would discover that we went out to dinner. Perhaps there was some dancing and some flirting, but at the end of the evening, the only thing exchanged were kisses and good nights.” Napoleon leaned back against the leather cushion. “Did it ever once occur to you that the reason women love to go out with me is that I’m ‘safe’?”

“They haven’t seen you in a fist fight.”

“What I mean is that they can be seen around town with a good looking man and that makes them more attractive to other men, men who can offer them more a meal and a dance ticket.”

“But why?”

“You said it before, hiding in plain sight. People don’t tend to see what’s right in front of them.” He reached out and caressed Illya’s cheek. “I know I didn’t.”

“So much wasted time. How was I supposed to know that all I needed to do--”

Napoleon’s kiss, demanding and wet, interrupted him. Suddenly hands were busy unbuttoning, unzipping, tearing, when necessary, until they were bare skin to bare skin. There was a tangle of arms and legs as both men struggled for control. Their climaxes, when they came, literally, were a zenith of strangled groans from their lips.

Without pause, they headed for the bedroom, leaving a path of clothes behind lest they need to find the way back to the living room. Too intent upon each other and their newly discovered love, they would have even noticed the shadowy distant figure on the sidewalk If they could have seen him.

“Finally.” With a smile, Grigory pulled the wig from his head and dropped it into a nearby garbage can, revealing short cropped red hair. The pencil-thin moustache that decorated his upper lip was smoothed and he put on a pair of thick glasses which magnified now watery blue eyes. Not even his mother would recognize him. And that was just how he wanted it. He wondered if Illya would even know him the next time they casually bumped into each other on a crowded street. Probably not, but such was the life of a… he trailed off and grinned, then like the shadow he was, he disappeared into the night.
Tags: slash fic, the alphabet affair, the beta challenge
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