Chapter 19: Another Wrestling Match

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Illya's mind was only concentrated on what Solo had just told him. He wanted Solo to be wrong, but where was Gaby is she wasn't a double-crosser? Nervously, he pulled out his gun and inspected the couch, the bed and finally the closet. He was about to go into the bathroom when the door opened itself. Out came a happy looking Gaby with a toothbrush in her mouth. She was in her snowy white pyjamas and smiled when she saw Illya. She walked up to him, but froze when she saw the gun, her smile immediately fading.

"Illya..." Fear darted in her eyes.

Illya looked at his little chop-shop girl. She was so inexperienced for an agent, yet she was so unpredictable for a woman. He couldn't totally rule out the possibility that she's been double-crossing them, but for now, he had no evidence. He lowered the gun and smiled at her.

"Sorry," he said, searched for an excuse, "I... I... the room was empty and I heard something..."

"So you wanted to save me?" Gaby laughed and went back into the bathroom, only to come out a couple of seconds later with the toothbrush gone from her mouth. "Cute."

Illya put the gun on the table. "Cute is all you have to say." He muttered in Russian a little, forgetting that he had started teaching Gaby his mother tongue. "Как женщина может быть настолько некомпетентны и заманчиво в то же время?"

"So I'm the incompetent one?" Gaby's lips pursed and her piercing eyes stared directly at Illya. "...but alluring you say?" She laughed at him and went over to the bed.

Illya glared back at her. "Don't make me say something worst."

"I want to see your worst." Gaby teased, her eyes darting around his face.

Illya paused and searched his mind for a better insult to throw at her, but it was impossible. What could he call a girl he found so innocent and beautiful? "You'll be offended."

"I guess," Gaby rolled her eyes and grinned. "But it would also expand my Russian knowledge."

"You need more than insults to expand your..." he paused, "knowledge."

Gaby stopped grinning and looked menacingly at him. "Call me stupid again."

"I never called you stupid," he raised an eyebrow at her, mocking her.

"I hate it when you play me around." Gaby walked over to where he was, pointing a finger at his chest. "Are you deliberately looking for a fight?"

"No, I would accidentally break you." He laughed harder than Gaby had ever heard before.

It took every ounce of her will power not to laugh with him. Instead, she deepened her frown in an attempt to look more intimidating. "I remember a wrestling match the last time we were in Rome..."

Illya immediately stopped laughing. "That was not a fair fight. Not the Russian way."

" 'That was not a fair fight!' " Gaby mimicked his Russian accent in an attempt to be annoying. Realizing she had succeeded, she continued taunting him. " 'Look at me, I like to play spies but I can't fight a girl...' "

She had tipped him over the edge. Illya could feel his lip quiver to the same beat as his hands and eyebrow. He was trying to keep it together, but no one mimicked his Russian accent. Illya lunged at her waist, but Gaby nimbly scooted out of the way, only allowing him to catch on to her hip. Gaby underestimated his force and power, and she was taken by surprise at how much stronger who had gotten since Rome. She was knocked to the floor, her back crashing down; only softened by the plush carpet. Her eyes closed and her body looked like a marionette under his weight. Illya's large, blue eyes suddenly flooded with guilt. He tapped Gaby's shoulder, realizing how limp it was. How limp he'd made it. No breathe was escaping her mouth. He started to panic, feeling her soft legs grappled on to his torso. Suddenly, Gaby's head leapt back up. With one quick movement, she unlaced her legs and placed them on his gut. It took all her energy to push him backwards with her leg power, but she did. He landed heavily into the king-sized bed behind him. He was emerged in a cloud of bed sheets, duvets and pillows.

Illya angrily looked down at Gaby from the bed. "You cheated!" But before he could protest anymore, Gaby had already leapt up on to him.

Her slim legs kicked his torso and he angrily rolled her onto her back. Gaby yelped as he growled and she rolled him round again, making sure he was on his back so she had the advantage. Gaby gently slapped his face and stuck her tongue out at him, making his anger overflow like a boiling kettle. She then got up, planning to swiftly get away when he grabbed onto her foot, making her fall forward on to the floor. He laughed in triumph as she got back up and walked up to him, grabbing his rough, brown jacket. He grabbed the collar of her pyjama top and they both paused, staring at each other with determination and mock glares. Gaby attempted to push him back into the bed, but his tight grip on her pyjama top accidentally made him drag her on top of him.

"I'd call it a draw," Illya said, panting. "Nice fight though."

Gaby laughed, knocking her back. Illya's instinct was telling him to burrow his head into her neck, but wouldn't. He wanted to, but he wouldn't. Gaby stopped laughing and looked back at him.

"Are you going to let go now?" Gaby's smile faded and they looked at each other longingly.

Illya grinned. "I don't know, should I?" His grip started to loosen, but Gaby's hand landed on his, making him grip it tightly again.

"Don't. I like it there."

Illya looked at their hands, before looking back at her and realizing she was staring lustfully into his icy blue eyes. Hers were a dark chestnut colour; smooth as chocolate.

Gaby could feel her face getting closer to his. Her lips started trembling in excitement imagining his lips crashing against hers. They were so close. She closed her eyes...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Gaby opened her eyes and her face retreated away from his. She saw the disappointment etched on his face, and imagined she looked the same.

"I'll go get it," Illya sighed, letting go of Gaby's pyjamas as she gently got off of him. "It must be Cowboy."

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