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[her-seyi-yak]

Stitches

Characters: Napoleon Solo x reader

Summary: Mutual pining, a plane crash, general Napoleon Solo behaviour.

Word Count: 1112 words

Prompt: “What the hell were you thinking?!”

A/N: This prompt was selected by the brilliant @iwillbeinmynest for my 2.5k follower celebration.

Napoleon Solo was not the kind of man who formed ‘attachments. He was used to watching his back, especially with people he had momentarily been forced to place his trust in. His world was full of betrayal and morals in varying greyscale. He knew that the more you opened yourself up, the more it hurt when they inevitably stabbed you in the back, and they would stab you in the back.

Knowing all this didn’t help him when he met you. From the moment you entered the room, carrying the files for the next mission, he felt the layers of suave sass peel away, and he did not enjoy feeling so vulnerable at your mere presence. He stumbled over his words, knocked over his drink, actually blushed! All these things were picked up by an increasingly amused Illya, who then made certain you were around the team more often.

The more Napoleon tried to avoid you, the more you seemed to appear in his life. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the times he spent with you where he felt like a pathetic teenager with a crush, or the times he hid away, knowing someone else held your attention. His focus was certainly compromised, and the edges of his carefully constructed persona were beginning to fray, a dangerous position for any spy to be in.

The mission had been… well, not perfect, but the team was getting the job done. He had tackled the crazy bombmaker before backup could get there, taking his chance, and now was flying in a small sea plane towards the pickup point. It had been a risky move, but Napoleon was confident in his abilities as ‘super spy’, and then he had heard your voice on the comms, and his mind drifted for a fraction of a second. That was all the sociopath in his custody had needed, that small opening, and now Napoleon was lay in the debris of the plane, floating in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of the smell of gasoline and the warmth of flames.

Strong arms gripped him, the ground beneath shifted and he felt the soft moisture of fresh rainfall on his face. A loud explosion rang out, leaving his hearing even more muffled than it had been from the crash.

“Solo! Come on, you can’t die without telling that pretty girl of yours how you feel. That would be very ungentlemanly of you, and I would lose a bet.” Opening his eyes, Illya’s face swam into view, before everything went black.

When he came to again, he was aware of a hard mattress beneath him, crisp cotton sheets and the smell of disinfectant. The harsh beeping of a monitor caused his brow to furrow, and he groaned.

“He’s awake.” The voice was familiar and yet hearing it, he felt as if he were dreaming. A soft pressure on his hand had him turning his head and fighting to open his eyes. “It’s okay, Leo. You just rest. You’re safe now.” There was only one person who called him Leo, and the corners of his lips twitched up as he squeezed her hand.

“And how long have I been ‘resting’?” He asked, his voice dry and cracked after days of being silent.

“Not long enough.” Your reply made him chuckle and his body relaxed. He was alive, he was on the mend, and he had you by his side, that felt like a successful mission.

It was a week later when he sat opposite Waverly, going through the mission notes. Napoleon was acutely aware of your presence just behind him and to his left, taking notes of the conversation. The sound of your pen scratching across the paper, the occasional waft of your perfume, the tapping of your foot in his periphery, it was almost hypnotic.

In this relaxed state, Napoleon was incredibly frank about the whole mission, leaving out no detail. The tapping of your foot increased in pace as he began to explain how he had neutralized the target by himself, loaded him into the sea plane and took off to the rendezvous location. Waverly occasionally glanced over Solo’s shoulder, aware of the growing agitation of his note taker.

The whole team was aware that the two of you had strong feelings for each other. Several bets had been placed yet nobody had won, and the pot was increasing each day.

“So, you are telling me that, knowing backup was moments away, you thought it best to take Schneeder down single handedly, despite knowing he was heavily armed and potentially strapped to a bomb?” Waverly’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” she exploded. Solo turned around, an expression of pure surprise on his face, noticing the tears in her eyes, he immediately felt guilt for being the one who put them there. “That was so reckless, Solo! What if we’d lost you? What then?”

“The team would recover. None of us are irreplaceable.” He blinked and half shrugged as if this information was obvious.

“You are.” The words spilled from her lips and from the way her eyes widened just slightly, he knew she hadn’t intended to say that. Waverly got to his feet and quietly left the room, hoping that if he gave them a moment to talk, he might hit the jackpot.

“No, darling, not even me.” Napoleon said softly, shifting in his chair to face her, reaching out and taking her hand as he gave her a sad smile.

“You are. To me you are irreplaceable, Leo. I realise that probably means very little to you, but it is the truth.”

“Very little? Why would that mean so little when you mean so much to me?” It appeared that the lack of filter between mouth and brain was contagious. He sighed and slowly brought his gaze up to meet hers. “My job is dangerous, I will be in peril more than you feel comfortable with, but I can perhaps tone down the recklessness a tad, if that means you worry a little less. I don’t want to be the cause of your tears, darling. I want to be the reason behind that beautiful smile of yours.”

“Then rest up and make sure you are fully recovered. I need you back on your feet, Solo. Especially if you are going to cook me dinner to apologise for scaring me half to death by nearly dying in a plane crash.” She looked at him pointedly and he felt his heart skip.

“For you, anything.” He agreed, bringing her hand to his lips, and placing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

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