MOVED

Cont from  volatiletm

As Illya began to explain a shortened version of what had happened, Napoleon’s stomach sank. It was true, Illya had come to his rescue once before when Rudi had his way with him, but back then they had only just been barely acquaintances… There were no- no feelings involved for Napoleon. But now, with everything that he had begun to feel for the other man, it changed things. 

“I’ll try my best next time to not get myself into so much trouble, despite the fact that I seem to attract it.” he replied, injecting his voice with a slightly upbeat tone. But then his face fell somewhat as he looked over to Illya, licking his dried lips before opening his mouth again. “Thank you… For saving my life. You know I would have done the same for you.”

     ❝As hard as you may try, I have a feeling that it won’t be so easy for you. Like you said; you attract trouble wherever you go.❞ Shifting his position, his gaze was set on the other man for brief moments as his thoughts wandered, something that didn’t happen frequently as he was trained to keep his mind on the task at hand -- not that he had one at the moment. 

Cont from  volatiletm

Hearing the response that he got, hearing that nickname, made Napoleon smile. “But you won’t.” he replied, teasing slightly as he let out a long and steady breath. He spotted the shadow of what could have been a smile, but of course, in true Kuryakin fashion, it disappeared in the blink of an eye. 

“I dread to ask how long that’s been…” Napoleon wasn’t sure he wanted to know how long he had been lying in this bed, but he figured he should find out at some point. “Feeling? If I’m honest… like I was hit by a freight train. Wait-” He paused for a moment, glancing over at Illya with slightly widened eyes. “-please tell me that isn’t what happened…”

     ❝Consider your self lucky this time.❞ 

     A comforting feeling of relief went through Illya’s body when Napoleon opened his eyes. He was beginning to think the other man was never going to open his eyes again either from the medication or the more darker, unwanted possibility. 

   “I’m backpacking,” she lies, as though she was offended by such a comment. “…Yknow. Like across the country. Don’t got nothin’ on me but my clothes ‘n American Spirits.” She tips back the can and lets the frothy liquid fill her mouth. She lets out a satisfactory sigh and wipes her mouth with the back of her tattered sleeve. “I’m tryna get to Vincent Grove by morning. It’s a town allllll the way east. Cute place.” That wasn’t a lie. Roxanne’s current goal was to get to Vincent Grove where she would meet with an acquaintance. This acquaintance would hopefully acquire her some fake documents so she could start her new life—free of the cult, free of the institute, free of her past. She cocks back her arm and throws the empty beer can to the parking lot. It bounces once and rolls under a burnt red Chevy truck. “You ever visit there? Got the best sea salt ice cream. Apparently.” I could go for some ice cream.

     ❝Perhaps you should have packed more shoes.❞ Its said with a smirk, one that is quickly obscured by the can of alcohol. He’s finding that he’s taking a liking to her the more she talks and that’s saying something since one, they’ve barely had time to talk and two, he’s more of a lone wolf.

MEME // @fragdoll