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coprime_recs) wrote2022-01-22 09:55 pm
coprime_recs) wrote2022-01-22 09:55 pm
Entry tags:
Man from UNCLE: Save This Dance by Xparrot
Save This Dance (Napoleon/Illya | PG13 | 9,762 words): Napoleon gets shot on a mission, leading to discussions about the future and their relationship for Napoleon and Illya. This is just lovely. I loved the care between Napoleon and Illya and the partnership between them and how the most important thing for them is each other.
Excerpt:
"Get help!" Illya snapped at her, then caught himself and repeated it in German. "Please, Fraulein, call the police, the hospital—"
"I-Illya," Napoleon gasped, the syllables rattling in his throat, unvoiced.
"Lie still," Illya ordered him. He changed the set of his hands so he could take out the pen communicator in his jacket pocket. It was difficult to open one-handed with his fingers slippery with blood; Illya resorted to prying up the cap with his teeth, clipped it to his collar and snapped into it tersely, "Channel B, emergency, operative down—Solo is shot."
"This," Napoleon panted, fighting to force the words out through the agony, "is—isn't how..."
"Napoleon," Illya said helplessly, bearing down with as much pressure as he dared. Napoleon's blood was wet and horribly warm, surging up against his hands with every beat of his partner's heart.
"Isn't...how I wanted...to spend my evening," Napoleon gasped; then his eyes rolled back and he lapsed into irresponsible unconsciousness, abandoning his partner to deal with the rest of this terrible night alone.
Excerpt:
"Get help!" Illya snapped at her, then caught himself and repeated it in German. "Please, Fraulein, call the police, the hospital—"
"I-Illya," Napoleon gasped, the syllables rattling in his throat, unvoiced.
"Lie still," Illya ordered him. He changed the set of his hands so he could take out the pen communicator in his jacket pocket. It was difficult to open one-handed with his fingers slippery with blood; Illya resorted to prying up the cap with his teeth, clipped it to his collar and snapped into it tersely, "Channel B, emergency, operative down—Solo is shot."
"This," Napoleon panted, fighting to force the words out through the agony, "is—isn't how..."
"Napoleon," Illya said helplessly, bearing down with as much pressure as he dared. Napoleon's blood was wet and horribly warm, surging up against his hands with every beat of his partner's heart.
"Isn't...how I wanted...to spend my evening," Napoleon gasped; then his eyes rolled back and he lapsed into irresponsible unconsciousness, abandoning his partner to deal with the rest of this terrible night alone.