Who: Gaby Teller and Napoleon Solo When: The morning after the battle in Atlantis Where: The cruise ship's infirmary What: Gaby checks in on Napoleon Warnings: None Status: Complete
Napoleon Solo and hospital beds. It was threatening to become a trend, and Gaby was not the least bit amused. When she and Illya had paid him a visit yesterday after he came out of recovery, her concern for him had outweighed her annoyance. And so she had humored him in his highly medicated state and made only vague references to her discomfort over his having been injured while trying to protect her. She left him with promises to return in the morning to check on him again.
Visiting as promised, Gaby was wearing the gold seashell necklace Illya had given her that morning and a bandage on her bicep. The wound in her right arm still throbbed painfully where two layers of sutures closed the three inch gash left by the barbed tine of the trident. She had been given medication for the pain, but it left her feeling hazy and exhausted, so she had not taken any yet today.
Hoping that Napoleon would be awake, she arrived at the infirmary, giving friendly smiles to the occupants of the beds she passed as she made her way to his. "I see you found a way to sweet talk the robot nurses into giving you something more stylish to wear," she teased when she reached his bedside.
“The terrible backless gown, while amusing for you, was really pushing the limits of what I could recover from,” Napoleon said, in lieu of an actual greeting when he saw Gaby strolling over. Instead of the normal hospital gown most patients found themselves in, he looked perfectly comfortable in a burgundy robe that was in stark contrast with the pale pallor of his skin. The surgery and the wound from the trident had taken a lot out of him and it was evident.
Gaby looked gorgeous as always, though the wound on her right arm continued to draw his attention, as it did the first time he had seen her. At the time, he had been goofy on pain medication and hadn’t been able to focus enough to properly ask after it. He took the chance now. “How are you feeling?” He shifted his legs over, so there was enough space for her to sit instead of in the uncomfortable medbay chairs that were found by each bedside.
“I thought you were used to losing your pants,” she replied without the least bit of sympathy, referring to his loss in strip poker. Well, he certainly sounded more coherent than he had the day before. But as she got close enough to inspect him, she noticed that he did not look much better. She pressed her lips together tightly in a sort of disapproving frown as he made room for her to sit at the edge of his bed. It ought to be her laying there instead of him. She waved her hand dismissively at his question, as if she was batting away his concern. “I’m fine,” she answered, perhaps a bit more coolly than she meant to, “thanks to your unnecessary heroics.” It didn’t matter that she would have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. He had been gravely injured trying to get her out of harm’s way, saddling her with feelings of guilt, gratitude, and worry that manifested itself as irritation.
“You and I will have to continue disagreeing over those ‘unnecessary heroics,’ so how about we move onto more pleasant conversation?” Napoleon asked, smiling brightly despite her tone. He knew she felt terrible about what had happened, but he really did wish she would let it go. He knew that their little trio from UNCLE had a difficult time expressing their emotions, including him, but sometimes it would have been nice if they could just be direct with each other. “How’s your Russian bear doing then?”
Gaby sat down at the end of the bed, nudging his feet fondly with her elbow. Seeing him smile like that made it easier to abide by his wishes, which was probably why, she was certain of it, he brought it out now. It was his most effective weapon against her. She rolled her eyes as an answer to his question, absentmindedly playing with the necklace around her neck. "About as you would expect. Still ready to single-handedly take down every last Siren on this planet." She didn't mention how he'd gone off on some nonsensical tangent about it being his duty to keep her safe. "He said he's been to see you." He also said that he thought Napoleon was unhappy with the change in their relationship, but she wanted to confirm that for herself.
“He has. Keeps lecturing me and taking away any alcohol I manage to have smuggled in to me.” Here, a bit of a pout made its way onto his too handsome face. “I know technically he’s right, but it’s irritating being told what to do by him. So very bossy.” He didn’t care much that he couldn’t drink, but the fact that Illya tried to prevent him from doing so, made him want to drink even more. “Has he tried telling you how it’s his job as your romantic companion to protect you? Because he’s been ridiculous about that as well.”
"Yes, well, he excels at telling people what to do. The trick is letting him say his piece and then promptly ignoring it. But I know you know this." Even so, Gaby had observed that it was nearly impossible for either of them to ignore the other, once one of them had risen to the occasion or taken the bait.
"Romantic companions?" Gaby repeated with a breathy laugh. "Is that what you'd call it?" Her eyes narrowed slightly as she continued. "I assume you mean me?" She lowered her hand away from her necklace and let it fall into her lap. "Oh, he tried, but it didn't go so well for him. I think he will be biting his tongue next time he entertains such thoughts."
Napoleon could only snort in an undignified way, not something typically observed of him, at the suggestion she offered. Ignore Illya? It was physically impossible to ignore the hulking blond man whose very presence commanded attention and, occasionally, depending on the situation, irritation. “You know he makes it very difficult to ignore anything he says.” It wasn’t something that needed to be said, they both knew it to be true, but he had to point it out since she had brought it up.
Though his mirth - yes, mirth because he knew that they were being petty about the alcohol and the situation was a little funny from the outside perspective - turned more obvious when Gaby found Illya’s overprotective nature just as ridiculous as he did. “Please tell me you got him to apologize. I would have paid very good money to see that.”
Sighing, a little of the mirth leaving him, he asked, “Are you two happy? I know we haven’t talked about how things have changed much, but you two look happy.” There was a tinge of sadness to the words, though Napoleon wouldn’t be able to explain it in any kind of satisfactory way why there would be.
Because he was happy for them - good and truly happy that they finally were able to give into the care and affection he had seen between them since they had met. But it had come at a cost at his own personal happiness. And as much as he didn’t regret that, he would have to be made of stone, to be completely unfeeling, to not feel sadness at the loss of whatever unnamed thing he had with Illya before.
Gaby cocked her head to the side, her mouth skewed into a sort of scowling smile. "Try." Nothing wrong with being direct. "For all our sakes." A little playful bickering was good for morale, although there was a very fine line between the kind that made her smile and the kind that made her want to pummel them both. And they were constantly walking that line.
"I didn't get an apology per se. But I definitely think I got through to him when it comes to all that possessive nonsense." That was maybe a little wishful thinking on her part, but he did seem apologetic and receptive to her calling him out on it. Gaby noticed Napoleon's demeanor change when he inquired about her and Illya. Thinking it was due to some sort of expectation of irrevocable change, she placed her hand softly on his leg. "Nothing is going to change between the three of us, Napoleon. I promise. And if, somehow, we all get sent back to where we come from, we will make it work." They always did. On paper, the three of them looked as incompatible as you could get, but somehow, together, they were a formidable team.
The bittersweetness of the situation was trying to claw its way into Napoleon’s words. But he fought them as best as he could. She deserved this happiness, so did Illya. So he would be happy for them, damn his feelings. “I’m not worried about it changing us,” he lied, knowing that things were already changing, but without Illya’s permission, he couldn’t really explain why, didn’t want to explain why either. “Other than maybe for the better, with Peril smiling a little more often. Which I won’t complain about.”
Illya did seem to be smiling a little more, and it pleased Gaby to know that she had a hand in it. She felt lighter, too, as if the denial of her feelings for him had been weighing her down in a way she had only realized once the heaviness was no longer there. She shrugged slightly. "Much good may it do us. He might have a smile on his face, but he's still as pigheaded as ever. I don't think there's anything that can change that."
She smiled softly, studying Napoleon, who somehow still managed to look handsome in his hospital bed, pale, unshaven, and unkempt. She could tell there was something he was struggling with, but what exactly was difficult for her to say. Napoleon excelled at being unreadable when he wanted to be. After a moment she asked, "Are you truly all right with this?" Because maybe it needed asking again. Illya had told her that Napoleon had helped him to understand what he felt for her, so she assumed that the two men had spoken on the subject. And the other night, Napoleon said he was happy that she and Illya had finally stopped dodging that thing between them. But they had been drinking then, and she wanted to give him another chance to object before things with Illya got too far along.
If there was one good thing that he was good at, it was at telling the truth he wanted known. Others might consider it lying, but he didn't. Reaching over, he squeezed her hand with a warm smile. “I am truly happy that you two stopped being pigheaded about this.” Another quick squeeze and he let her hand go to reach over to his nightstand for a deck of cards. “Now. Have you ever played Go Fish?”