Anonymous: A mission goes bad, Napoleon and Illya get into a fight, they somehow end up confessing to each other, and if you're comfortable writing smut, top!Illya with Napoleon surprised at how sex with feeling behind it is. If you're not, makeout session

"You should have known there was an alarm!"

Illya was furious. The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out of a locked vault in Budapest to get an arms dealer's records who was getting a little too friendly with both the United States and Cambodia. From there, Waverly could use the evidence to shut the man down.

In and out. Or it should have been if Napoleon had, once again, not realized that the vault had an upgraded alarm. Now they had no papers and were stuck in some run-down motel until either Waverly or Gaby could make contact. All Illya could do is sit on the old creaky bed and try to control the tapping of his fingers.

"This whole mess is your fault!"

He avoided looking at Napoleon in an effort to resume some semblance of calm. Illya had thought they were getting closer and working better as a team. And they were. Mission after mission, Illya was starting to appreciate Gaby and Napoleon's talents. Especially Napoleon's. The man was a damn good thief and could collect necessary information. He was also strong and Illya couldn't help but admire his ingenuity.

But he needed a partner with common sense, not one who missed little details or who was so close to getting shot in the head that Illya could swear his heart was trying to leave his chest until they managed to get out of the mansion via a stolen car. That feeling was…unexpected and for now Illya attributed it to shock at the man he now unfortunately thought of as a friend being stupid.

"Listen Peril," Illya still avoided looking up.

"Yes, I missed the alarm," Napoleon said in a soft, casual tone as he removed his cuff links.

"But you are conveniently forgetting that the reason I was hurrying was because Dominik's little girlfriend, who I was distracted rather well at the party, realized something was wrong and decided to come after us after you stole the photographs of our "session."

"She should not be photographing you in that way," Illya growled. The tapping continued.

"She does it with all of her lovers. It was in our briefing notes, that I know you read," Napoleon said, now removing his tie slowly, trying to decipher Illya's anger.

"I don't understand why you felt the need to steal them that second. Gaby was supposed to remove any evidence from the room later on in the night."

"It is not the problem," Illya said. "The problem was the alarm."

"No I don't think that's it," Napoleon continued, infuriating Illya. "You compromised the mission. She would have found us either way. And this isn't the first time."

Illya finally looked up. Instead of the smirk he expected, all he saw was a look of bewilderment on his partner's face before he fixed his eyes on the coarse carpet.

"You broke up the dancing in Paris. You pretended to be a security guard with that woman in Hong Kong so she would leave my room. And those are just two examples," Napoleon said.

"They use you."

"And I use them," Illya could tell Napoleon wanted eye contact, but he couldn't look into those confused blue eyes.

"They're marks. They're connections. It doesn't mean anything. Not the kissing, not the sex, none of it. It never has with anyone!"

A flash of light trailed Napoleon's words as a lamp hurdled to the ground, followed closely by the bedside table as Illya reached forward.

Napoleon blinked. He was sure he would be joining the table and the lamp on the ground, but instead, his back made contact with the semi-soft mattress as Illya leaned over him.

A gulp could be heard from Napoleon. Although his dreams sometimes got this point, in reality, he was a little frightened of the blond man hovering over him, although he would go to the grave before admitting it.

"It should," Illya muttered, his accent getting thicker.

"What?" Napoleon was sure he had lost the ability for conscious thought besides the body close to him.

"Mean something." With that, lips touched Napoleon's in a surprisingly gentle manner, making his eyes flutter closed. Their lips continued to move in sync, followed by their bodies…..

"Why are you crying?" Illya asked later, as they lay together, Napoleon not quite touching his partner as he caught his breath.

"I'm not," Napoleon blinked, turning and moving further away.

"I saw tears," the Russian said. But that was all. Napoleon realized he wouldn't push, wouldn't touch anymore until Napoleon moved or spoke. Something rose inside his chest.

"I'm scared," he finally answered.

"It will be ok," Illya said.

With those four simple words, Napoleon found the strength to look at Illya's worried face.

"You were right," Napoleon said. "It should mean something. And with you….it meant something at least. Something amazing. So I'm scared, but in a good way."

A rare smile.

"It's going to be ok."