Mr. & Mrs. Solo

One Last Night

Day turned into dusk, dusk following into night before Napoleon stood from his prison of a cafe chair. His bones ached from not moving in several hours, stretching out his knuckles as he walked down the streets towards their small rented home. The smell of a fire lit inside of a tin trash can made no impact upon him as he walked past, tossing the heavy file in without a blink. No one needed to know what the world labeled her as. The truth was far from the print.

Turning the key of the door, Napoleon pushed it open and set his keys back on their hook. Noah had rented an apartment for a month and a half, only a few weeks of which Napoleon had been around for. She never really had a house to call her own, preferring to simply bounce around wherever jobs led her and renting there. Napoleon had once joked that they practically lived together in his apartment in New York, her stuff mingling with his own like a real couple would. She'd done nothing but smile and laugh a little. Noah wouldn't get her hopes up.

Snapped from his muted and uncomfortable trance, Napoleon heard his name be called from the little kitchen. "Is that you?" Noah came again, pulling at his heart. It would be the last time he ever heard a greeting from her. Tomorrow--no. No, there was no more tomorrow. He had to pull himself together, she would suspect something more than his cover story.

Walking into kitchen, Noah stood with her hair half tied up and in nothing but underwear and one of his button downs, Napoleon drinking in the sight of her. God, she was gorgeous. She wasn't the face that first popped into your head when you thought of Italian beauty, but she was a damn near second. "What's the occasion?" He joked, leaning against the doorframe with a smile.

He could feel her smile from her turned back, noting her concentration on the blue sheet of paper laid over the round kitchen table and held down with empty wine bottles. "Nothing, sadly." Napoleon's hands went to her waist, one sliding forwards and circling her hips. "It was hot in the building so I got a bit more comfortable."

"Here I was, hoping it was my birthday." His lips ghosted over the exposed skin of her shoulder, enjoying the chill that ran down her spine. Up close he could see all of the freckles accumulated through years spent in the sun, gardening with Ruth and exploring the mountains she had been raised in. It was like a freckled sky, painted so delicately that it could hold only his name. "What are you working on?"

Latching onto the little hum she gave off when he kissed her neck, Napoleon continued to care to the small area of exposed skin. "Compact carry," she said in the midst of tracing a finger over one of the knuckles on his hand. "Small enough to fit in your pocket with a blast radius of two hundred feet. It's a prototype, Illya asked for it. Something about a building."

Nose brushing along the side of her neck, he kissed behind her ear. "Sounds dangerous." Napoleon mused, inhaling the scent of her hair. He could never explain it, but Noah smelt like wildflowers even if she was covered in blood. Whether it was hers or not.

A little chuckle escaped her. "It generally is." Napoleon knew that she was an excellent bomb maker, certainly the best he'd ever met. However, it wasn't like he'd met many in the field. Turning her around in his arms, Napoleon kissed the corner of her jaw.

"That's what makes it exciting, isn't it." He hummed while connecting their lips. His hands dipped below the shirt she was wearing, sliding along the back of her thighs before picking her up and setting her gently on the table she had been working on. Noah smiled a little into his kiss, chuckling at his eagerness. She didn't know the reason behind it, why he put every ounce of passion left in his body into that kiss. If tonight was the only time he had left to drink in the feel of her skin against his own, then he was going to make it more than memorable.

Noah's ankles crossed behind his back, bringing him closer to her as his hand ghosted along her thigh. He couldn't have been more than a few inches away from her stomach when she pulled away, a little gleam to her eye. "You're going to make me smudge my blueprints." She said teasingly, but remained attached to him.