Correlations

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


Author's Notes: On February 8th I took fic requests from people. And let me tell you, some of those requests were evil! Evil, I tell you. It took me forever to figure out how to tackle mrlnpndrgn's request: "Napoleon/Illya; slash (if possible in the context); Napoleon meets Illya's family (mother and/or father) for the first time"

I confess that I cheated a little bit. As a result of being a 24 year old woman born and raised in Canada by Canadian parents, I had absolutely no cultural context for writing a fifty- or sixty-something Russian couple. I could have done research, but I couldn't think where to start and didn't really have the time, so I did this instead...


Napoleon had never expected to meet Illya's parents. For a long time he'd believed they were dead. He had no particular reason for this conviction. Illya wasn't old enough for natural causes to be a certainty and he'd never said anything that suggested that they had passed.

But then, Illya never really talked about his family at all. Most agents didn't. They maintained a certain professional reserve, not out of lack of trust, but out of a desire to have a safe haven. A part of their life that the job didn't touch. Or so Napoleon assumed. UNCLE had wormed its way too thoroughly into every corner of his existence for him to be able to separate it out.

Apparently, Napoleon had assumed a little too much, because Illya's parents were very much alive. Seeing them in New York was as much a shock to him as, he suspected, it was to Illya. The complete astonishment on Illya's face when he saw them and the exuberant hugs that followed were almost more startling than the appearance of two people Napoleon had believed to be dead. Illya just didn't seem to be the hugging type, but there he was, wrapping his arms around mother and father in turn.

Somehow, the four of them ended up having dinner together. For the second time in his life Napoleon's polished manners completely failed him. There were awkward moments and stilted conversation and he kept almost forgetting not to talk about work. Gauchely, he looked from Illya to his parents and back repeatedly, searching for his partner in their faces.

Napoleon was distantly horrified by his own sudden social ineptitude, but he couldn't seem to do anything about it. The entire night spun frustratingly out of control. He conceded defeat as dinner ended and retreated to his apartment, leaving Illya to catch up with his parents. Perhaps show them around New York without his partner getting in the way.

Locking his door behind him, Napoleon hung up his coat, loosened his tie and poured himself a drink. After that debacle, he needed it. He hadn't been that embarrassingly awkward during a social engagement since he met his wife's parents for the first time.

His wife's parents for the first time.

Illya's parents.

Closing his eyes, Napoleon moaned softly and set his glass down before he dropped it.

Illya.

--End--