A Christmas Fic for my Woobie
Title: Meet Me Under the Mistletoe
Genre: Man from UNCLE, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: 1888
Prompt: 1. Napoleon, 1. Willow Rosenberg, 1. Mistletoe
sparky955, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for you. *hugs* and thanks for all you do for me. Everyone should have a friend like you!
Willow Rosenberg wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Granted in the giant scheme of things, thirty-eight degrees wasn’t exactly that cold, but she wasn’t built for New York winters. The wind cut through her cloak and she winced as the snow found its way up her skirt.
It wasn’t just the weather that made this place cold. The people here scurried from place to place never pausing to actually see anyone or anything. They were all so buried in their little cocoons, they never had time for strangers. Not like home. Well, maybe the zombie aspect was, but not the weather, certainly. She was a child of the sun and the warmth. She was a California girl.
That made her giggle. The image always conjured up a buxom blonde, with the IQ of 12 in everything except fashion, cavorting across the sand with a muscle-bound, tanned guy. That made her giggle even more, for the only blonde she knew was Buffy and while the Slayer could take out a legion of bad guys, she was smarter than she thought and her fashion sense wasn’t as keenly honed as it used to be.
Warmed by the thought of her friend and knowing they would all be together soon for Christmas, Willow hurried to her rented room, eager to start packing.
Her thoughts were so tied up in themselves that she didn’t immediately hear the sounds of fighting. Or perhaps it was that the sounds were so second nature to her now that they didn’t register as anything strange.
Willow looked into a shadow-filled alley and could see a fight happening. Three against one wasn’t good odds, especially since the guy fighting back was on the ground.
“That’s enough!” she said, using her firm voice.
The men paused in their beating and turned to her.
“Hmm, a redhead. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, guys.”
“Yeah, let’s unwrap her.”
Willow glanced around, appearing nervous, while secretly just making sure she didn’t gather an audience. Not a chance in the part of town. All the law-abiding folks were locked away, safe in the beds, all except her.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” The third man had started to approach and Willow shrugged her cloak from her shoulders.
“We hit the jackpot, boys. What say we take her all at once?” They rushed and Willow held out her hands, palms out.
Instead of grabbing her, they found themselves flying through the air, then slammed to an unmerciful stop against a brick building. Dazed, they one-by-one staggered to their feet.
“What the hell, bitch?” one man shouted. He was on his back, the wind knocked out of him and Willow had merely gestured with one hand. “You skanky whore!” he gasped, trying to get to his feet.
“That does it,” Willow frowned and the man disappeared, a rat sat in his place. “You want some of this, too?” she snapped at the others, but they were already running away.
“I am not a skank or a whore,” Willow muttered. The person the three had been beating on was starting to move and she went to him. “Are you okay?”
The man was nicely dressed and looked headed for a night out on the town. “Yeah, yeah, I’m, thank you…” He started to drag himself to his feet, but seemed to be fighting gravity.
“Take it easy,” Willow said. “Let me help you.” Then she realized the man had passed out. “It would have been nice to know your name. What my mother would say about me taking home strange men.”
Napoleon Solo slowly drifted back to the here and now. He’d been seeing a friend home. There was a noise, he turned and that’s when the pain started.
“Try not to move.” There was the sensation of a cool wet cloth against his face. He opened his eyes at the voice and blinked a few times to make the image stop swirling.
“Who? Who?”
“You sound like Mr. Owl. How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center?” She giggled. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous.”
After a Herculean effort, Napoleon managed to get upright. He was on a narrow bed in a strange apartment. “I assure you, I’m harmless.” He rubbed his side. “What happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. There were three guys beating on you.”
“You chased them off?” Napoleon looked at her and smiled. “And you seem so harmless.”
“I have a very authoritative voice.” She held out a hand. “I’m Willow, by the way, like the tree.”
“I’m Napoleon, like the general.” He got his legs over the edge of the bed and winced. “Ouch.”
Willow giggled again. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Yes, my partner.”
Willow grabbed her phone and unlocked it. “You’ll have to dial the area code because it’s a West Coast phone.”
“I thought you had an air of California around you. It suits you.”
Willow beamed at that as she handed over the phone. Napoleon punched in the number and waited. There was always a chance Illya wouldn’t be there.
“’Lo?”
“Illya, it’s me.”
“Napoleon, what are you doing at this number? I thought you were in town. You’re in California?”
“No, I had some trouble tonight. I was rescued by a vision in red.”
“I’m not awake enough to understand you. Where are you?”
“Where am I?”
Willow gave him her address and he repeated it. “Illya, I suspect bird involvement.”
“Understood.”
The phone went dead and Napoleon looked at it. “And good bye to you, too.” He handed the phone back and smiled. “He may be a bit. Is it alright if I stay here?”
“Of course.” The phone rang, playing Witchy Woman. “Hello?”
“I’m just calling back to be sure. Napoleon is there?”
“He is. Would you like to talk with him?”
“No, please tell him that I will be along.”
“I will. Bye bye,” she said to a dead phone. “You were kidding. He’s not much with the small talk.”
“Illya? He makes up for it in other ways.” He looked around the small studio apartment. “Not celebrating Christmas this year?”
Willow beamed. “My last name is Rosenberg.”
“Whoops, no offense.”
“None taken. I like them all. Any time that lets you tell your friends and family how much they mean to you is a good thing. I’m just about done here and will be flying home in a couple of days.”
“Where’s home?”
“Sunnydale, California.”
“You’re brave to be living there.”
Willow grew apprehensive. “Why? What do you mean?”
“That huge earthquake that swallowed the whole city?”
“Well, the new one is much nicer. And not as many cemeteries.”
“Okay, that’s a good thing to know.” Napoleon glanced over at a book and lifted it up. “Blackthorn’s Botanical Magic,” he read, then continued, “Spellcrafting – and Strengthen Your Craft, Book of Shadows. Some light reading?”
“Yes, all research… for things.” Willow’s cheeks began to redden.
“So, no interest in witchcraft, then?” Napoleon’s smile was playful.
“I’m in college… comparative religion --” She broke off. “I’m a lousy liar.”
“Yeah, you are pretty bad, but it if helps, in my line of work, I’m pretty good at reading people. And no matter how authoritative your voice is, I know you probably couldn’t take on three men all on your own.”
“Well, I had a little help from Hecate,” Willow said. Napoleon nodded and began to take stock of his pockets. “Oh, you lost your pen. I picked it up.” She handed him a slender tube.
“It’s more than just that.” He uncapped it and held it to his lips. “Open Channel D.”
“Channel D is open. Napoleon, where have you been?”
“Getting worked over by some of our feathered friends.” He peeled back a fake fingernail. “Micro dot is still secure.”
“Do you need help?”
“Illya is on his way. I think I’ll be fine until then.”
“You’re in a safe place?”
“Very safe and with friends.” He smiled at Willow, who blushed again. “Channel D out.”
“Are you a spy?”
“An enforcement agent, but, yes, that’s the gist of it.”
“Wow, that must be exciting.” Willow walked to the window and peeled back the thin curtain.
“I could say the same thing right back to you.”
“Me?” Willow made a ‘go away’ gesture. “I just came here to get some books and supplies. Mostly it’s just running in fear and hoping I don’t turn someone into a mushroom or something.”
“Sounds like my job, except for the mushroom part.”
There was a knock on the door and she ran to open it. Napoleon caught her and pulled her aside, then shook his head. He reached for a lamp, then nodded.
Swallowing, she asked, “Yes?”
“Let me in.”
Willow looked at Napoleon, who started to shake his head and then the door burst open as it was kicked from its frame. Napoleon smashed the lamp down over the head of the nearest figure. The other men turned and one pointed his weapon.
It turned into moths and they fluttered away. “What the--?” Turning, he stared at Willow.
Napoleon dropped him with a roundhouse and pistols came to bear on Willow. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he murmured. The weapons changed into various toys. “Nice touch.”
“Thanks!”
The toys were dropped as the remaining THRUSH agents scurried from the room. Willow stepped out into the hall, her hand again raised, but Napoleon caught it and brought it to his lips. Kissing the back of it lightly, he propelled her back in the room. “Let my partner do the rest. I’m sure they will not be any trouble for him.”
“Well, darn, I was gonna turn them into pigeons.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He secured the two groggy agents and dragged them to their feet. His communicator chirped and he grinned, lifting it up. “Solo here.”
“Napoleon, we received your present downstairs. They are babbling about their guns turning into toys?”
“Must be Christmas magic. I have two more up here.”
“I’ll be right there. Kuryakin out.”
Napoleon closed the channel and tucked the pen into his stained jacket. He brought out his money clip and peeled off several bills. “I want you to have this.”
“I couldn’t… could I?” It was more money than she’d seen in a long time.
“Upgrade to first class for your trip home.” He handed her the money and a card. “If you ever want a job or need me, just call.”
“I will.”
He looked around and spotted a cluster of grapes. A few clung desperately to their vine and Napoleon held it over Willow’s head and then gave her a fast kiss. “Anything can be mistletoe in a pinch.”
“I give you credit for originality.” She hugged him. “Stay safe, Napoleon, like the general.”
“And you, as well, Willow, like the tree.” Then he was gone, his two prisoners in tow. She could her him talking to someone as he started down the stairs. Willow turned back into her apartment, the door repairing itself as she did and the cluster of grapes slowly morphing into mistletoe.
Smiling, she hung it from the lamp that hung over her table. Somehow, the city didn’t see quite as cold now.
Genre: Man from UNCLE, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Rating: PG-13 (for language)
Word Count: 1888
Prompt: 1. Napoleon, 1. Willow Rosenberg, 1. Mistletoe
sparky955, I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it for you. *hugs* and thanks for all you do for me. Everyone should have a friend like you!Willow Rosenberg wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. Granted in the giant scheme of things, thirty-eight degrees wasn’t exactly that cold, but she wasn’t built for New York winters. The wind cut through her cloak and she winced as the snow found its way up her skirt.
It wasn’t just the weather that made this place cold. The people here scurried from place to place never pausing to actually see anyone or anything. They were all so buried in their little cocoons, they never had time for strangers. Not like home. Well, maybe the zombie aspect was, but not the weather, certainly. She was a child of the sun and the warmth. She was a California girl.
That made her giggle. The image always conjured up a buxom blonde, with the IQ of 12 in everything except fashion, cavorting across the sand with a muscle-bound, tanned guy. That made her giggle even more, for the only blonde she knew was Buffy and while the Slayer could take out a legion of bad guys, she was smarter than she thought and her fashion sense wasn’t as keenly honed as it used to be.
Warmed by the thought of her friend and knowing they would all be together soon for Christmas, Willow hurried to her rented room, eager to start packing.
Her thoughts were so tied up in themselves that she didn’t immediately hear the sounds of fighting. Or perhaps it was that the sounds were so second nature to her now that they didn’t register as anything strange.
Willow looked into a shadow-filled alley and could see a fight happening. Three against one wasn’t good odds, especially since the guy fighting back was on the ground.
“That’s enough!” she said, using her firm voice.
The men paused in their beating and turned to her.
“Hmm, a redhead. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas, guys.”
“Yeah, let’s unwrap her.”
Willow glanced around, appearing nervous, while secretly just making sure she didn’t gather an audience. Not a chance in the part of town. All the law-abiding folks were locked away, safe in the beds, all except her.
“Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” The third man had started to approach and Willow shrugged her cloak from her shoulders.
“We hit the jackpot, boys. What say we take her all at once?” They rushed and Willow held out her hands, palms out.
Instead of grabbing her, they found themselves flying through the air, then slammed to an unmerciful stop against a brick building. Dazed, they one-by-one staggered to their feet.
“What the hell, bitch?” one man shouted. He was on his back, the wind knocked out of him and Willow had merely gestured with one hand. “You skanky whore!” he gasped, trying to get to his feet.
“That does it,” Willow frowned and the man disappeared, a rat sat in his place. “You want some of this, too?” she snapped at the others, but they were already running away.
“I am not a skank or a whore,” Willow muttered. The person the three had been beating on was starting to move and she went to him. “Are you okay?”
The man was nicely dressed and looked headed for a night out on the town. “Yeah, yeah, I’m, thank you…” He started to drag himself to his feet, but seemed to be fighting gravity.
“Take it easy,” Willow said. “Let me help you.” Then she realized the man had passed out. “It would have been nice to know your name. What my mother would say about me taking home strange men.”
Napoleon Solo slowly drifted back to the here and now. He’d been seeing a friend home. There was a noise, he turned and that’s when the pain started.
“Try not to move.” There was the sensation of a cool wet cloth against his face. He opened his eyes at the voice and blinked a few times to make the image stop swirling.
“Who? Who?”
“You sound like Mr. Owl. How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center?” She giggled. “Sorry, I babble when I’m nervous.”
After a Herculean effort, Napoleon managed to get upright. He was on a narrow bed in a strange apartment. “I assure you, I’m harmless.” He rubbed his side. “What happened?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. There were three guys beating on you.”
“You chased them off?” Napoleon looked at her and smiled. “And you seem so harmless.”
“I have a very authoritative voice.” She held out a hand. “I’m Willow, by the way, like the tree.”
“I’m Napoleon, like the general.” He got his legs over the edge of the bed and winced. “Ouch.”
Willow giggled again. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Yes, my partner.”
Willow grabbed her phone and unlocked it. “You’ll have to dial the area code because it’s a West Coast phone.”
“I thought you had an air of California around you. It suits you.”
Willow beamed at that as she handed over the phone. Napoleon punched in the number and waited. There was always a chance Illya wouldn’t be there.
“’Lo?”
“Illya, it’s me.”
“Napoleon, what are you doing at this number? I thought you were in town. You’re in California?”
“No, I had some trouble tonight. I was rescued by a vision in red.”
“I’m not awake enough to understand you. Where are you?”
“Where am I?”
Willow gave him her address and he repeated it. “Illya, I suspect bird involvement.”
“Understood.”
The phone went dead and Napoleon looked at it. “And good bye to you, too.” He handed the phone back and smiled. “He may be a bit. Is it alright if I stay here?”
“Of course.” The phone rang, playing Witchy Woman. “Hello?”
“I’m just calling back to be sure. Napoleon is there?”
“He is. Would you like to talk with him?”
“No, please tell him that I will be along.”
“I will. Bye bye,” she said to a dead phone. “You were kidding. He’s not much with the small talk.”
“Illya? He makes up for it in other ways.” He looked around the small studio apartment. “Not celebrating Christmas this year?”
Willow beamed. “My last name is Rosenberg.”
“Whoops, no offense.”
“None taken. I like them all. Any time that lets you tell your friends and family how much they mean to you is a good thing. I’m just about done here and will be flying home in a couple of days.”
“Where’s home?”
“Sunnydale, California.”
“You’re brave to be living there.”
Willow grew apprehensive. “Why? What do you mean?”
“That huge earthquake that swallowed the whole city?”
“Well, the new one is much nicer. And not as many cemeteries.”
“Okay, that’s a good thing to know.” Napoleon glanced over at a book and lifted it up. “Blackthorn’s Botanical Magic,” he read, then continued, “Spellcrafting – and Strengthen Your Craft, Book of Shadows. Some light reading?”
“Yes, all research… for things.” Willow’s cheeks began to redden.
“So, no interest in witchcraft, then?” Napoleon’s smile was playful.
“I’m in college… comparative religion --” She broke off. “I’m a lousy liar.”
“Yeah, you are pretty bad, but it if helps, in my line of work, I’m pretty good at reading people. And no matter how authoritative your voice is, I know you probably couldn’t take on three men all on your own.”
“Well, I had a little help from Hecate,” Willow said. Napoleon nodded and began to take stock of his pockets. “Oh, you lost your pen. I picked it up.” She handed him a slender tube.
“It’s more than just that.” He uncapped it and held it to his lips. “Open Channel D.”
“Channel D is open. Napoleon, where have you been?”
“Getting worked over by some of our feathered friends.” He peeled back a fake fingernail. “Micro dot is still secure.”
“Do you need help?”
“Illya is on his way. I think I’ll be fine until then.”
“You’re in a safe place?”
“Very safe and with friends.” He smiled at Willow, who blushed again. “Channel D out.”
“Are you a spy?”
“An enforcement agent, but, yes, that’s the gist of it.”
“Wow, that must be exciting.” Willow walked to the window and peeled back the thin curtain.
“I could say the same thing right back to you.”
“Me?” Willow made a ‘go away’ gesture. “I just came here to get some books and supplies. Mostly it’s just running in fear and hoping I don’t turn someone into a mushroom or something.”
“Sounds like my job, except for the mushroom part.”
There was a knock on the door and she ran to open it. Napoleon caught her and pulled her aside, then shook his head. He reached for a lamp, then nodded.
Swallowing, she asked, “Yes?”
“Let me in.”
Willow looked at Napoleon, who started to shake his head and then the door burst open as it was kicked from its frame. Napoleon smashed the lamp down over the head of the nearest figure. The other men turned and one pointed his weapon.
It turned into moths and they fluttered away. “What the--?” Turning, he stared at Willow.
Napoleon dropped him with a roundhouse and pistols came to bear on Willow. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he murmured. The weapons changed into various toys. “Nice touch.”
“Thanks!”
The toys were dropped as the remaining THRUSH agents scurried from the room. Willow stepped out into the hall, her hand again raised, but Napoleon caught it and brought it to his lips. Kissing the back of it lightly, he propelled her back in the room. “Let my partner do the rest. I’m sure they will not be any trouble for him.”
“Well, darn, I was gonna turn them into pigeons.”
“Don’t tempt me.” He secured the two groggy agents and dragged them to their feet. His communicator chirped and he grinned, lifting it up. “Solo here.”
“Napoleon, we received your present downstairs. They are babbling about their guns turning into toys?”
“Must be Christmas magic. I have two more up here.”
“I’ll be right there. Kuryakin out.”
Napoleon closed the channel and tucked the pen into his stained jacket. He brought out his money clip and peeled off several bills. “I want you to have this.”
“I couldn’t… could I?” It was more money than she’d seen in a long time.
“Upgrade to first class for your trip home.” He handed her the money and a card. “If you ever want a job or need me, just call.”
“I will.”
He looked around and spotted a cluster of grapes. A few clung desperately to their vine and Napoleon held it over Willow’s head and then gave her a fast kiss. “Anything can be mistletoe in a pinch.”
“I give you credit for originality.” She hugged him. “Stay safe, Napoleon, like the general.”
“And you, as well, Willow, like the tree.” Then he was gone, his two prisoners in tow. She could her him talking to someone as he started down the stairs. Willow turned back into her apartment, the door repairing itself as she did and the cluster of grapes slowly morphing into mistletoe.
Smiling, she hung it from the lamp that hung over her table. Somehow, the city didn’t see quite as cold now.