#t.m.f.u

Yes!! You're so right, cottagecore!Napoleon would be a fucking dream.

Listen; I've always had a headcanon that at least one of Napoleon's properties/safehouses is a beautiful countryside cottage/manor/farm, so giving him the vibe and aesthetic to go with it is definitely An Idea.

I'm picturing a Napoleon so much looser, so much freer. He still wouldn't be caught dead in corduroy or flannel, but his closets are full of woollen pea coats, loose chemises, thick knit sweaters and little fingerless mittens and arm warmers for the winter nights.

His cottage is surrounded by lush farmland full of trees and wildflowers, with a lake off to one side near a thin river that, in the warmer seasons, Napoleon wades barefoot looking for pretty rocks and things washed down from the towns way up north.

Napoleon is still That Bitch so I imagine his cottage would be pretty extra; two fireplaces, a den, a library. Old stone and marble statues litter the property; one kneels and weeps moss tears above a well, figures forever frozen in dance are clothed by trailing ivy and willows.

He has a horse he lets roam the hillsides, but once a month he hitches it to a cart and takes the trail up to the town, buying what meats, vegetables and produce he cannot sow himself. He keeps the meat in a freezer out in the shed; powered by solar in the summer and a generator in the winter.

Napoleon Solo has been missing, presumed dead for over two years after earning his freedom with UNCLE when Illya tracks him down, following flimsy lead after flimsy lead to a cottage in the middle of nowhere; surrounded by flowers with herbs drying from the rafters and a quaint little table out front, where Napoleon likes to read and watch the bees.

Another dead end, he thinks. Pretty and picturesque as this place is, Napoleon wouldn't be here. He'd be somewhere rich and regal, flourishing under a fake name, with pockets full of cash and stolen jewels and a pretty girl on his arm.

Except here is exactly where he finds Napoleon; laying amongst the wildflowers with a book, nibbling on cake and cookies he'd baked himself, looking far more beautiful than any painting Napoleon had tried to teach him about.

Look at these babies. These dumb, precious, totally in love idiots. Here it looks like Illya is just feeling even more guilt for Napoleon being in this life because this is probably how old Napoleon was when he was in the midst of war, and 'Leo is trying to reassure Illya that by his side is exactly where he wants to be.

Smart-ass Napoleon after batting his lashes and getting Illya to do the leg work fending off the bad guys they encounter on their journey to the Winchesters. He's far too pretty to get in fights, you see. And why fight when he can cower behind a giant Russian and enjoy the view of having his life defended so determinedly?

Ooohh, for the de-aged Napoleon AU? (X | X | X)

It starts with a black, chunky knit sweater in some cruddy motel in Arkansas. Sleepless from the nightmares and riddled with introspection now that he's twenty-two again, Napoleon's been sat by the window watching the rain for hours when Illya comes back with groceries.

Napoleon's eyes are dry and his fingertips are purple with the cold and after taking one look at him Illya wordlessly dumps the bags, rummages in their suitcases and stuffs 'Leo into the thickest sweater he owns. The sleeve cuffs are way past his fingertips and the hem reaches way past his hips, and Illya looks away before he can think about how the neckline hangs so low it shows a slip of pale, unblemished collarbone.

He creates a monster.

From that day on, none of his clothes are safe except his boots and his trousers, and that's only by the scant mercy that they simply do not fit in a manner 'Leo can't manipulate. (Although watching him fruitlessly roll up the pant cuffs over and over and over was greatly amusing.)

And when 'Leo catches him looking as he dons one of Illya's winter jackets as they cross through Minnesota he winks and purrs, but that doesn't hide the purple smudged under his eyes or the tremble in his hands. And Illya comes to recognise that, more often than not, 'Leo dons his clothes the way a child hides behind their mother's skirts.

He also notices that 'Leo goes for the worn ones. The shirt he wore the day prior is tucked into 'Leo's slacks, collar left unbuttoned because now that Illya has seen the real 'Leo its like he doesn't have the energy to put the masks back on.

He pretends not to notice the way 'Leo tucks down into the fabrics, nose buried in the soft threads, inhales slow and deep until he stops looking quite so haunted. Doesn't comment on the way 'Leo uses them as pillows in the car, sleeping undisturbed and quiet for the first of so many nights.

Illya: Kill them.

Napoleon: No. No we do not. Try again.

Illya: Lightly stab them?

Napoleon: ...

Plleaaase I know the movie makes this huge deal out of Illya and Gaby, but nothing compares to Illya and Napoleon, especially if you watch the interviews where Armie talks about how Illya perceives Napoleon and how they're both vulnerable with each other.

(And we know Armie was game for Napollya or a polyship anyway, and that Henry's always appreciative of and game for ships amongst his characters.)

But just like; consider how they were together in the movie, in a completely platonic context. Two men on opposed sides, pitted against each other like a dog fight at the start, expected to betray and use each other, and instead they choose each other over the literal political and powerful standings of their countries.

Something I don't think people think about is the actual implications of the scene on the balcony, before Waverly comes in. Its not just a goodbye, its a goodbye. What Illya did was a death sentence at worst and a condemnation to extreme punishment until he's 'redeemed' at best.

And 'Leo, well. Sanders won't kill 'Leo for that, but you can be fucking sure he's gonna make him regret it. You can be damn sure if there was ever a chance they'd honor his sentence agreement that its out the window like a rock now.

But either way, they're never seeing each other again. And they both know that. 'Leo knows what the KGB will do to Illya. What Illya chose to accept when he chose 'Leo and the safety of millions of other people.

And when has anyone ever done that for 'Leo? Nobody's ever done anything for 'Leo that they haven't done in their own interest. The world of thieves is nothing but a game of chess where you think you're the Queen but you're actually just a pawn.

'Leo's never been anything but a harlequin. A good little soldier in a bespoke suit bound to serve and weaving his own little spiderweb behind the scenes. Nobody ever sees him. Not even the people looking right at him. Napoleon Solo is smoke and mirrors and masks. But Illya?

Sunnyyyy. I love that you love it so much, honestly. When I wrote it I thought it was just a stupid, fun little ficlet but it honestly makes me so happy knowing you're thinking about it!

Sunny I am screaming I saw this and your comment on the fic and I'm 😭😭 You're gonna send me to an early grave, I swear. I would never mind this!

I literally had you in mind when I was writing it, because I thought to myself; Sunny would like this, Sunny would approve of Illya and 'Leo being somfte together.

I adore that you liked it so much! I'm so so honored and thrilled you think its true to character and that its easy for you to visualise and if you excuse me I now have to curl up and cry because you've made me feel so elated!