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A familiar red haze is slowly spreading before Illya's eyes, until it overwhelms his vision. The hand holding the receiver is steady, but the one at his side starts to tremble ever so slightly. He listens to the cold threats and burns ever hotter. Oleg doesn't even wait for him to reply, he expects total obedience, delivers his orders and hangs up the phone.
Illya can break bones with his little finger, can lift ridiculous weights, can take on the hardest assignment and succeed, but he's still their slave. Do the job, get the disk, kill. Or be locked up, degraded and destroyed.
It's unfair. The disk was gone and none of them had it, and it was a draw. But Solo lied, because he's a lying manipulative bastard, and of course he lied and Illya was an idiot to believe him.
And now his masters want Solo dead.
When Illya can see again the room has been completely torn apart.
He doesn't want to do it. He hates Solo for lying to him. But he would have done the same in his position.
When he walks into Solo's room he's still so tense he doesn't trust himself to speak. Solo is saying something, Illya pours them whisky and fingers his gun. Working alone was so much easier.
He's already resigned himself to most likely never seeing Solo again. Solo would go on with his glamorous life in New York, with his art and his women and his sharp suits and... Illya opens his jacket and reaches for the gun.
And then reflex makes him catch something as a small metal object lands in his hands. His father's watch! Solo turns around to face him. Illya vaguely realizes that he's looking at Solo with a completely lost expression, but is unable to do anything about it.
"Your orders are the same as mine," Solo says and lifts the waistcoat he was about to pack to reveal the computer disc Illya spotted earlier. "Kill me if necessary but get this."
Illya nods. He doesn't want to kill Solo but the urge to grab him and hit him right now is almost unbearable.
But Solo is calm, looks almost apologetic in fact, like he doesn't want to kill Illya either.
Solo advances towards him. Illya's left hand starts twitching again. And then Solo lays his own hand on Illya's wrist, right above the watch Illya has just put on. Their eyes meet.
"I don't want to shoot you," Illya says.
Solo smiles and his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around Illya's wrist. They are standing so close and Illya really doesn't feel like moving. Solo could be trying to trick him again, is most likely trying to trick him again. Illya is stronger and there are about two dozen ways he knows to kill Solo right now with them standing just an inch apart.
But Solo is entirely relaxed. His grin goes a little wider and then he stands up on his toes and presses his lips to Illya's.
It's just a chaste touch of sensitive skin on sensitive skin, but Illya trembles nonetheless under it. Solo steps back with a concerned look on his face.
"You're not going to smash my head in, are you, Peril?"
And with surprise Illya realizes that, no, he has no urge to smash Solo's head in and the trembles subside instantly. Illya smiles.
"Well, I'm not sure whether that smile is a good or a bad sign here," Solo says slowly, frowning, concern on his face morphing into something else.
Instead of replying Illya takes that one step forward to breach the distance between them and puts his large hands on Solo's hips.
Solo's grin creeps back. "And here I thought you were into Gaby."
Illya quirks an eyebrow. "What's it like being wrong, Cowboy?"
"Very nice." Solo says and they surge towards each other.
There's nothing chaste about this kiss, as they both aim to deepen it, suddenly desperate for touch. Illya thinks he must have been desperate for it ever since he tackled Solo to the floor and nearly strangled him in that Berlin bathroom.
They tumble onto the bed, fighting for dominance, until Illya lets Solo pin him down. That allows him to grab Solo's ass while pulling him close to grind their erections together. Solo curses under his breath and Illya's heart skips a beat. He blinks to see Solo panting above him and feels the urge to pull on a hanging strand of that thick black hair. But they're both still wearing too many clothes and that's more urgent right now. Illya tugs at the remaining buttons on Solo's shirt and soon all of their clothes are scattered around the bed and they are finally blissfully naked. Soon Illya has all the license to pull on that hair as Solo dives down and swallows his cock. Fuck, Solo is really good at this, and Illya has to restrain himself from pulling too hard.
He is embarrassingly close embarrassingly quickly, and with a low moan he pulls Solo back up face to face. Solo's lips are red and swollen and Illya just stares helplessly until Solo kisses him. Illya can taste himself in Solo's mouth and he crushes them even closer, a hand in Solo's hair and an arm across his back.
There's a fleeting angry thought that it's the only time they'll be able to do this. But Solo is distracting him quite efficiently as he squeezes a hand between their bodies and brings their cocks together. Illya's eyes fall shut and he arches off the bed at the sensation and Solo's murmured encouragements.
Illya needs more, wants all of Solo, wants all he can get in this one time together. Solo yelps at the sudden change in position as Illya effortlessly flips them over and adds his own hand to Solo's around their cocks. They fumble for a moment, then adjust, spit and sweat enough to help them along, the sensations burning hotter, hotter with every second and every thrust. Illya buries his face in Solo's neck and stiffens, groaning his release into Solo's skin. It's a moment before Solo too arches up into his hand and they both slump side by side on the bed.
Illya's mind is beautifully blank for a few minutes, as his breathing slowly evens out, Solo's heat at his side a comfort, even if he won't admit it later.
"We should destroy the disk," Solo says into the silence.
"What?" Illya turns to face him. And of course it's the only way. But can they really do it? What will their masters say?
"Unless of course you still want to fight for it."
How does the bastard always sound so collected, even looking as debauched as he is right now?
"If we destroy it..." Illya says and pauses. He can still kill Solo and take the disk and be the golden boy. Unless of course Solo kills him first. Illya brushes a finger over his own lips. "No one wins the arms race, that's the right thing to do."
Solo grins and pushes himself up on his elbows. "I have a great view from my balcony. Let's go light us a little bonfire."
Illya enjoys the view of Solo's ass as he gets off the bed. But before Solo can disappear into the bathroom, Illya calls after him.
"So... Should I start calling you Napoleon now?"
Solo cringes. "Don't you dare."
Illya laughs. "Whatever you say, Cowboy."
Some twenty minutes later they are drinking outside on the balcony, the disk burning steadily in the ashtray, when Waverly comes in with Gaby and drops his bombshell on them.
They all act exasperated and turn away to demonstrate their displeasure. Yet Illya can't help thinking that what they just did doesn't have to be the only time. He catches Solo's eye for just a moment, and knows he's thinking the same.