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Title: Without Fire, There’s No Desire*
Author: Spikesgirl58
Genre: Man from UNCLE, Napoleon/Illya
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
Prompt 346 - snow/ice,
No warnings, just a tip of the hat to Oingo Boing’s Sweat*
“Baby, it’s hot outside.”
Illya Kuryakin pulled his attention from the menu and glanced over the top of his glasses at his partner. Napoleon
Solo slid into a chair across from him. The table was small enough that their knees touched beneath the tablecloth.
“It could be worse.” Illya returned to the menu. “I’m thinking that there are a couple million people who would gladly exchange places. Check out the paper.”
Napoleon unfolded the paper and read. “Hmm, New York is being slammed by another storm.”
“The fifth one this month.” Illya murmured, one hand drifting over to caress Napoleon’s knee. “All those people wading through all the snow and ice while we swelter.”
“We should send Mr. Waverly a basket of fruit.”
“I’d prefer we not remind him that we are here. At least not until May.” He squeezed Napoleon’s knee suggestively.
“What should we do until then?” Napoleon’s expression was innocent.
“Eat?” Illya’s lips toyed with a smile. “Curry?”
“In this heat?”
“Especially in this heat. Without heat, there’s no fire.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of fire.” Napoleon’s fingers found Illya’s. “And even more desire.”
“Then let’s face the music and dance.” And with that, they stood and left.
Author: Spikesgirl58
Genre: Man from UNCLE, Napoleon/Illya
Rating: PG
Word count: 200
Prompt 346 - snow/ice,
No warnings, just a tip of the hat to Oingo Boing’s Sweat*
“Baby, it’s hot outside.”
Illya Kuryakin pulled his attention from the menu and glanced over the top of his glasses at his partner. Napoleon
Solo slid into a chair across from him. The table was small enough that their knees touched beneath the tablecloth.
“It could be worse.” Illya returned to the menu. “I’m thinking that there are a couple million people who would gladly exchange places. Check out the paper.”
Napoleon unfolded the paper and read. “Hmm, New York is being slammed by another storm.”
“The fifth one this month.” Illya murmured, one hand drifting over to caress Napoleon’s knee. “All those people wading through all the snow and ice while we swelter.”
“We should send Mr. Waverly a basket of fruit.”
“I’d prefer we not remind him that we are here. At least not until May.” He squeezed Napoleon’s knee suggestively.
“What should we do until then?” Napoleon’s expression was innocent.
“Eat?” Illya’s lips toyed with a smile. “Curry?”
“In this heat?”
“Especially in this heat. Without heat, there’s no fire.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of fire.” Napoleon’s fingers found Illya’s. “And even more desire.”
“Then let’s face the music and dance.” And with that, they stood and left.