Need Me

"I hate you so much right now..."

"Good. Feeling is mutual."

"Good."

"Good." A pause, "This is all your fault, Cowboy."

"How is this my fault?!"

"Is always your fault. You should have known to deactivate alarm. Again."

"You were distracting me."

"Nyet. You were too busy showing off. Always with the preening of the peacock feathers."

"WHAT?"

"You. Showing off like peacock. Always."

"I DO not." Solo sounded affronted.

"Tell that to our zookeepers, Peacock."

"Stop calling me that!"

"Nyet. I will stop calling you that, maybe when you get us out of here."

"Hah, what makes you think I can get us out of here?"

"You finished picking lock on handcuffs -eh- maybe 30 seconds ago. Give or take."

"How did you-"

"Anger makes you faster, Cowboy."

"Wha-" Napoleon spluttered, "But how did you even-"

"I am a -how you say- not so terrible spy."

"..."

"..."

"I hate you so much right now."

"I know."

"And how do you know I won't just leave you here locked up?"

"Why not let me drown?"

"Told you, Peril, never answering that question."

"You will. One day I will make you."

A chuckle, though it did not hide the nervous undercurrent. Not from Illya, "Not today."

"Regardless, I am strong like Russian bear."

Solo bristled, "So I am a useless bird, and you are a strong and aggressive bear?"

"Your words. Not mine, Cowboy."

"I don't see how comparing yourself to a smelly beast is supposed to convince me to free you as well."

The American pouting was almost endearing. Kuryakin could not help the smirk that filtered from his features deep into his rumbled voice, "You need me, Cowboy."

Solo began, wide eyed and spluttering indignantly, "I most certainly DO not-"

"There are -by my count- five guards outside. Drawn by our bickering."

"Not bickering." Solo downcast, refused to mention the brilliance of Illya's tactical mind. Chess champ, indeed.

Illya could not help the soft smile, at the dejected look on Napoleon's face. It was nice and humbling, to bring the Cowboy down a peg. But he could not ignore the look of hurt. He had soft spot for this one. "Yes. Bickering. Is easier to escape with me, than without. Yes?"

Solo was about to argue, but at the sound of a rare smile on the hardened Russian's voice, Napoleon's head shot up. He drunk in the upward tilt to Kuryakin's lips.

He did not realize the Russian made a mental note to try and smile more.

With an exasperated sigh, Solo shuffled over to his side of the cell and made short work of the KGB agent's cuffs, "I really hate you, Peril."

Rubbing his wrists at their sudden freedom, Illya turned to tower over his partner, grey icy eyes as soft as his voice, "Maybe not so much."

Solo had to look away first, the heat in that gaze scorching. It was like Illya Kuryakin had something all figured out. And Napoleon felt like, for once in his life, he didn't have a clue.

But he wanted to.

Didn't he?

"Fine." Solo relented. He hadn't been able to make the statement convincing anyways.

To cover his retreat, Solo gestured at the door, "Be my guest, Russian bear."

"As you say, peacock."

"Hey! I freed you."

"We are not out yet, Cowboy."

"Multiple someones are dying slow and painful deaths, if we do not get outta here in the next hour."

"I will make it half." Kuryakin said with dogged determination, cold glint to his eyes, flat cap casting a shadow to his features.

Solo stifled a shiver.

At times, he forgot the monster that lurked beneath. At the same time, that unwavering certainty called to some broken part deep in Solo. Kuryakin had been right. He needed him.

And as those cold grey eyes warmed as they took in Solo next to him, Napoleon realized something for the first time.

"You need me too..." It was breathless . It was unsure. A statement that was not unlike a question. Hesitant.

And Solo wishes he could snatch it right back and stuff it back down his own throat.

There was a startled look in those widened Russian eyes. It was not often he got to see his stoic partner taken by surprise.

Then hard lines, muscles and unyielding lips were kissing Solo. Suffocating, warm and oh-so-right. Was this what he was missing?

Fuck yes.

When they pulled apart, Solo could hardly breathe, his lips parted in shock. But a pleasant surprise.

Illya regarded him with softened eyes, "As I said, terrible spy."