A Stuck Little Piggy (pure crackfic) - Impromptu Prompt - Feb 21
The prompt: Illya and Napoleon are finished with a mission that has ended well, but with a slight complication for one of them.
Illya knocked impatiently on the bathroom door of the hotel room he was sharing with Napoleon.
“Hurry up!” he called out. “Our flight back to New York leaves in an hour and a half.”
Solo, who had been happily lying in the tub, jumped at the sound of Illya knocking. The big toe, which he had been merrily poking in and out of the faucet, slid farther up and instantly jammed. He pulled frantically, knowing he was probably causing it to swell, but also knowing he couldn’t let Illya know.
“Napoleon!”
“Be out in a minute,” Solo replied.
On the other side of the door, Illya frowned. Napoleon was using his ‘I’m lying about everything being fine’ voice.
“What’s going on,” he asked, only to be greeted with silence. “Okay, cover yourself up, I’m coming in.”
Napoleon barely had time to grab a towel and cover his modesty before Illya opened the door. The Russian took in the scene before him and glared at his partner. At least, he tried to glare, but the look of humiliation on Napoleon’s face caused his steely resolve to melt. He laughed for a full two minutes before he was able to garner a little composure.
“I believe this would be the jurisdiction of the Fire Department,” he managed to say before another wave of laughter assaulted him.
“No-one but you are I will know of this,” Napoleon growled. “Quit laughing and give me a hand will you.”
Illya grabbed hold of his partner’s foot and tried to pull it free, but only succeeded in making the toe swell even more.
“Wait there,” he said after a couple of minutes, leaving Napoleon to wonder where exactly he could go.
He disappeared out of the bathroom, returning quite quickly with a tub of Vaseline.
“I won’t ask what you’re doing with that,” Napoleon quipped, trying to take some of the embarrassment away from himself.
“I got it from your suitcase,” Illya commented as he liberally smeared the substance onto Napoleon’s toe.
Solo opted not to say anything in response to the implication in Illya’s tone, choosing instead to concentrate on wiggling his toe free. A few moments later his trapped digit plopped free.
“If you’re not ready in ten minutes,” Illya began. “The whole of HQ is going to know of your little predicament.”
“You wouldn’t,” Napoleon yelled at the door his partner had closed on his way out of the bathroom. “Illya?”
“ILLYA!”
.
Illya knocked impatiently on the bathroom door of the hotel room he was sharing with Napoleon.
“Hurry up!” he called out. “Our flight back to New York leaves in an hour and a half.”
Solo, who had been happily lying in the tub, jumped at the sound of Illya knocking. The big toe, which he had been merrily poking in and out of the faucet, slid farther up and instantly jammed. He pulled frantically, knowing he was probably causing it to swell, but also knowing he couldn’t let Illya know.
“Napoleon!”
“Be out in a minute,” Solo replied.
On the other side of the door, Illya frowned. Napoleon was using his ‘I’m lying about everything being fine’ voice.
“What’s going on,” he asked, only to be greeted with silence. “Okay, cover yourself up, I’m coming in.”
Napoleon barely had time to grab a towel and cover his modesty before Illya opened the door. The Russian took in the scene before him and glared at his partner. At least, he tried to glare, but the look of humiliation on Napoleon’s face caused his steely resolve to melt. He laughed for a full two minutes before he was able to garner a little composure.
“I believe this would be the jurisdiction of the Fire Department,” he managed to say before another wave of laughter assaulted him.
“No-one but you are I will know of this,” Napoleon growled. “Quit laughing and give me a hand will you.”
Illya grabbed hold of his partner’s foot and tried to pull it free, but only succeeded in making the toe swell even more.
“Wait there,” he said after a couple of minutes, leaving Napoleon to wonder where exactly he could go.
He disappeared out of the bathroom, returning quite quickly with a tub of Vaseline.
“I won’t ask what you’re doing with that,” Napoleon quipped, trying to take some of the embarrassment away from himself.
“I got it from your suitcase,” Illya commented as he liberally smeared the substance onto Napoleon’s toe.
Solo opted not to say anything in response to the implication in Illya’s tone, choosing instead to concentrate on wiggling his toe free. A few moments later his trapped digit plopped free.
“If you’re not ready in ten minutes,” Illya began. “The whole of HQ is going to know of your little predicament.”
“You wouldn’t,” Napoleon yelled at the door his partner had closed on his way out of the bathroom. “Illya?”
“ILLYA!”
.