Notes

Thirty minutes and a quick trip to the store later, Napoleon walked back into the bedroom with a tray of warm tea and soup. Well the soup was more of a broth with the occasional pasta or vegetable, but Napoleon didn’t know how Illya’s stomach woul react to much solid food while on pain meds.

Illya had moved so that he had done his best to curl his large body up under the rather fuzzy blanket while still keeping his leg elevated. Napoleon could only see a couple of fingers, his injured leg and blond hair pepping outside of the blanket. He suddenly had the affectionate desire to take a picture.

It was only when Napoleon had placed the tray down, thinking the man asleep, did he notice the shivering. The Russian was shivering heavily despite the thick blanket over him. Quickly, he took two large strides over and pressed his hand to Illya’s forehead. “You have a fever.” He stated.

“C-cold… b-b-blanket.” The normally astute man stuttered as his teeth chattered.

“I have another idea.” Moving to take off his shoes, trousers and dress shirt, Napoleon moved to the other side of the bed and climbed under the blanket. He could feel Illya tensing but keep with his plan. He wrapped himself around the back of Illya until they were basically spooning.

“This is not the Russian way.” Illya said firmly but it was obvious the painkillers were starting to put him to sleep.