Entry tags:

gaby teller | man from uncle, napoleon solo | man from uncle

WHO: Napoleon Solo & Gaby Teller
WHEN: 226501.13, night
WHERE: Enterprise: His Room
SUMMARY: Cuddling and just being with each other.
WARNINGS: None
STATUS: In Progress

Ever since Gaby and Napoleon had agreed to start seeing each other with intent, with a general idea of what they might be, Napoleon had stopped sleeping around with anyone willing. It hadn't even been that hard. One second he had been flirting with intentions, and the next, he was turning down a beautiful woman merely because she wasn't the one he had feelings for. It was a startling realization that it felt right and it further confirmed for him that whatever was happening with Gaby, he wanted it to last and he didn't want to do anything that would put it in jeopardy.

And getting other people involved, well, that put it in jeopardy.

So a part of him, one that he had embraced fully for nearly twenty or so years past, changed fundamentally and he credited it to the woman he had in his arms at the moment. It wasn't for better, it wasn't for worse, but it was a change and it was all thanks to Gaby.

They were wearing their pajamas, warm and cozy, and he had no urge to change the state of their attire quite yet. Because as enjoyable as sex with Gaby was, he found himself looking forward to the moments like this - calm, quiet, just enjoying each other's companies with light conversation. No pressing matters were on the horizon and he found that he could spend forever like this, if he had to.

He was just coming off a headache that had laid him up for nearly the full previous day. Almost as quickly as it had hit, it had left, with only a slight pinch of his forehead indicating that anything had been bothering him. So he took advantage of the cuddling and buried his face into her neck, letting the remainders of the headache fade away to the clean, inviting scent that was the woman with him. "This is nice," he murmured, arms shifting to get a better embrace of her. "We should do this more."

"We do do this often," she replied, muffling a small laugh as the movement of his lips tickled the soft skin of her neck and sent shivers down her spine. And they had. Maybe not by Napoleon's measure, but Gaby had been surprised at how often she sought him out after their decision to move forward. There was a kind of quiet comfort she found in his arms that she had not felt in a long time. It was not necessarily there when they were out in public or catching up with Illya. But when they were alone together and she felt his hands on her body, heard his voice whispering in her ear, she felt like there was nowhere else she needed to be.

She wiggled an arm loose from his embrace so that she could run her fingers through his hair. It was free of product and the curls felt silky in her hands. She had come to prefer his hair this way. She traced a few gentle circles around his temple with her fingertips as she had done when his headache was in full swing in a feeble attempt to alleviate his pain.

His headache had been more like a migraine, knocking him on his ass in a way nothing has before. It had hit right after his morning meetup with Illya and Gaby and so he had secluded himself to his room for most of that previous day. Gaby, of course, had come to see him when she realized he had disappeared, but he had welcomed her distractions. The massage of his forehead had done little, but it had felt nice and the fact that she had even attempted to help him had counted for a lot.

“Then I’m feeling greedy, because I want even more than this,” he said, smiling fondly at her as she ran her hand through his hair. He closed his eyes at her touch, enjoying the caresses. Without opening his eyes again, he asked, “What are you thinking about?”

"You, greedy?" she asked in mock surprise, even as her cheeks flushed at the implication of his words. Before they started with this, before Solo had gone above and beyond to romance her on the holographic streets of Paris, Gaby had warned him that she was no good at intimacy. She had spent most of her life keeping people at arms length; it took considerable effort to allow them in. In Napoleon, she felt like she found someone who could understand that about her. As things progressed, she discovered that it was much easier to show her feelings rather than articulate them.

"You mean, besides confiscating your pomade so that you have to keep your hair like this?" she joked, continuing to run her hand through his hair. She had been thinking of their earlier conversation about finally coming clean to Illya. While she knew that it was a good idea, a part of her still felt anxious about how he might take the news. But she certainly was not going to tell Napoleon what was really on her mind.

“I truly do not understand the fascination with my hair when it’s like this,” Napoleon said, nose wrinkling up as he went crosseyed trying to get a look at one of his flyaway curls. He thought he looked ridiculous with his hair not styled to perfection, but he had heard, more than once, his natural hair was a good look as well.

Eyes reverting back to their usual positions, butted his forehead against hers gently. “Yes, aside from that.” He tried not to push her to talk when she was more comfortable being silent, but she had yet to really make any indication he wasn’t to pursue this direction of conversation. When she did, he would chatter on happily about something else.

Gaby could not speak for the others, but for her, the appeal lay in the way that it made him appear more natural. As if the styled hair was a part of the perfectly-crafted mask he presented to the rest of the world. But this was him. Affectionate, endearing, and not really at all like what she had expected. But she did not tell him this. Instead, "There's something to be said about a little disorder." And she ruffled his hair playfully.

When he pressed his forehead against hers, her hand dropped from his hair down to his cheek, cupping his jaw while she ran her thumb over the cleft in his chin. "We need a mission," she declared instead. It was a related line of thought, much safer to pursue. "I have been working on a holodeck program myself, but maybe I could use a little input. And we both know you have had relative success when it comes to the holodeck." She tipped his chin up so that she could press her lips to his, softly at first and then deepening as he responded to her kiss. As if a reminder of their night on the holodeck was needed.

He likened his slicker look, the suits, the charm he carried himself with all him to his public personality, but also a barrier of sorts. Not many people saw him without those things, didn’t see him when he wasn’t having a great day. or just wanted to lay around in bed being unproductive. He could count on his hand how many people he felt comfortable enough around to be this dressed down, this honest, about who he also was. “Well, I certainly won’t complain about the benefits of having you play with my hair.” He enjoyed it, liked that she liked it like this.

Napoleon knew she was deflecting, that there had been something else on her mind, but he let her. If and when she was ready to talk about it, she would. Not before. Smiling at the mention of their Paris dinner date, which had been an all around success by all accounts, he nodded, “I can certainly lend a hand.” He responded easily to her kiss, thoughts intermingling with memories of the first time they had slept together, the romance of Paris and the Louvre having played a part.

Her lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, placing kisses along it as she spoke. "Any special requests?" She slowly made her way to his neck. "The databank is full of spy stories by someone named John le Carré that would be simple enough to bring in. I would not mind a car chase." At this she pulled away so that she was looking into his eyes with mock annoyance. "But one that does not leave my pet project of several years wedged between two buildings," she said, referring to the way they had met. "The CIA still owes me a new car."

Eyes a little wide, he teased back with a small smile, “Now wait a minute, that wasn’t entirely my fault. Or the CIA’s. If I recall correctly, there was a giant Russian agent chasing after us like we had kicked his favorite dog.” He liked it a lot better when she was pressing those deliciously soft lips of hers against his skin. “At least half the blame is on Peril.” His hands found their way to the small of her back, caressing the bare skin peeking out from under her night shirt. He couldn’t stop marveling at how she was letting him do this, letting him touch and kiss her without this being strange.

"All right," Gaby replied with a small shrug, "So you both owe me a new car." The feeling of his hands on her skin brought an involuntary smile to her face. She found that she was smiling with greater frequency lately. It was a strange feeling, but she was not opposed to it. Napoleon had left the top button of his sleep shirt undone, and Gaby used this opportunity to trace her fingers lightly across the exposed part of his muscular chest. "Which of you is more likely to pay up, I wonder?"

“Well, neither of us are likely to be able to give you a car while we’re here. However, I put myself at your mercy for you to do with as you see fit. How does that sound like, for a fair exchange?” He asked, sneaking a hand further under her shirt so he could trace nonsense patterns onto her back. So soft.

The words while we’re here gave her pause, and she realized that she had begun to think of their presence here as if it might be permanent. She wondered when that had begun to change. At his offer, she arched an eyebrow at him, her hands dropping into her lap. “What makes you think I would accept as payment something I have already been given for free?”

He never believe in the permanence of any situation. It still hadn’t hit him that they might be on this ship forever. However, he did believe that he would always be in an orbit around Gaby and Illya forever, no matter the situations they found themselves in. Solo couldn’t explain why he held onto this belief so strongly, but he did and wouldn’t entertain the idea that it might not hold true. “So you’re comfortable thinking I’ll do whatever you will? You’re right, you’ve caught onto me.” He laughed, pressing forward a bit to lay his forehead against hers. “What else do you want from me?” His voice was pitched low, suggestive, but curious too. If it was within his power, he would have given her anything she asked for.