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“I hate this job. I want a refund” Napoleon grumbled as he graded papers for the art history class he taught at the local university.
He didn’t mean it. He loved teaching art history, loved his students, and the job wasn’t half bad. But when it’s 7pm on a Friday night, Napoleon started to resent his job choices.
He was holed away in his office with a red pen in his hand and music playing from his computer. He was deep into one of his student’s essays on how art in the Middle Ages reflected the time period when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in” Napoleon said, half expecting one of his students to come in begging for a grade change. He didn’t grade too hard, but he didn’t grade easy either.
Gaby Teller, Napoleon’s only friend at the university, walked in with her backpack — probably full of homework that needed to be graded — and takeout from their favourite Italian place down the street.
“I’ve never been so happy to see you” Napoleon said as Gaby set down the food and slumped into one of the extra rolly chairs he had.
Gaby smiled and rolled her eyes. Gaby Teller taught German Lit as part of the Foreign Lit course the university had implemented after a bunch of English majors complained there wasn’t enough diversity.
Napoleon was about to dig into his shrimp alfredo when he noticed the extra takeout. He looked at Gaby and raised one eyebrow while looking back and forth between the takeout and her.
She smiled wide. “I invited Illya to come and grade with us!” she said excitedly. Napoleon groaned and let his head fall on the table with a loud thunk!
“Gaby! The one I’m secretly in love with? Tall and scary? Could absolutely murder me with his pinky if I angered him?” Napoleon gave Gaby an incredulous look.
“Yes. It’ll be good! Maybe you two could actually talk and you could tell him how you feel!” she answered, opening her soda.
Napoleon wrinkled his nose at the Coke Vanilla she always drank before answering.
“That sounds absolutely ridiculous. Why, oh why, would I ever tell him how I feel? Do you want me to get pummeled into dust? Be embarrassed and shunned by him for the rest of my life?” he pouted. Gaby rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“It’ll be okay, I promise. Illya wouldn’t beat you up just because you confessed your feelings. Maybe you'll be surprised at his reaction” Gaby retorted. Maybe she was onto something.
“What do you know, Miss Teller?” he quizzed.
“Oh, a little bit of this and a little bit of that” she answered, waving her fork around.
Napoleon dropped it. If he hadn’t, he’d send himself into a nervous breakdown trying to figure out what Gaby meant. They had slipped into this comfortable silence that each of them had become accustomed to since starting this little routine where they grade together when one of them is staying late. Occasionally, Napoleon or Gaby would read aloud excerpts from what their students had written and laugh about it.
An hour later, there was a knock on the door. Gaby looked up at Napoleon with raised eyebrows. Napoleon huffed and mumbled a ‘come in’ before going back to his grading.
Illya walked in, having to duck through the doorway due to his height. “Sorry, I’m late. Student needed help” he said, his voice gruff and low. Illya was wearing a turtleneck, stretched tight over his broad shoulder and brown pants.
He was carrying his bag with him that Napoleon assumed held his papers and pens. Illya sat on the chair next to Gaby and opened the takeout. It was regular spaghetti with parmesan cheese.
When Illya started to eat the spaghetti cold, Napoleon informed him that there was a microwave in the back. Illya declined and continued to eat the cold food.
Napoleon, startled by his Russian friend eating cold spaghetti just went back to grading papers and eating his own food.
When Napoleon looked over, Illya wasn’t grading papers, like Gaby and himself. He appeared to be annotating a copy of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy and making lesson plans in a large notebook.
“Anna Karenina?” Napoleon asked, leaning back in his chair and tapping his pen on his knee.
“Yes. Is Russian classic. Good to start off unit about early Russian literature” he answered. Napoleon had momentarily forgotten that Illya taught the Russian Lit class under the universities Foreign Lit unit.
Napoleon hummed his acknowledgment and leaned forward to resume grading. Illya went back to reading and planning.
After about two hours or so, Gaby stretched and put her pen down. She rubbed at her eyes and folded her hands on the desk and looked between Napoleon and Illya.
“Let’s go out for drinks” she suggested, catching their attention. “Let’s go out! We can’t be in here all night! We’re young, it’s a Friday” she said trying to convince them.
Napoleon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He felt tired and he knew that if he stretched, all of his bones would crack and pop. He felt old.
“Yeah. I could use some drinks” he said and Gaby smiled at him mischievously. Gaby and Napoleon looked at Illya, who was still deeply engrossed in his book. He was leaning his head on his hand, tapping a yellow highlighter on the edge of the book.
Gaby reached out slowly and tapped Illya on the shoulder. Illya looked up at her startled, a slight blush spreading over his cheeks.
“Sorry. What did you say?” he asked, putting a piece of paper in the book and closing it.
“I said, do you wanna go out and get drinks? Napoleon and I are gonna go” she repeated. Illya looked at her tentatively, a considering look on his face.
“Yeah. I’ll go” he answered after a minute of thinking. He put his book in his bag and stood up to stretch. Napoleon couldn’t help but look at the little bit of skin that poked out from Illya’s shirt as he stretched his hands above his head.
Napoleon started to pack up his belongings and throw away containers and cans, glad to be moving his legs after sitting and grading for what felt like forever.
They all agreed to meet up at the bar about 15 minutes away and near Gaby’s place. Napoleon knew that Gaby planned on getting smashed and was happy to go to a bar close to her house so she could walk home safely. Also, so he could crash at her place in case he drank too much. Wouldn’t be the first time.
They all arrived there at around the same time. Napoleon showing up before the other two. Napoleon was surprised to see Gaby and Illya riding together in Gaby’s little yellow Volkswagen beetle.
“Illya and I live next to each other! Isn’t that wild? I found out this morning when his car backfired” Gaby answered in reply to the questioning look on Napoleon’s face. Illya mumbled in agreement as they all walked into the bar. Gaby in front with Napoleon behind her and Illya behind him. Illya’s hand was on Napoleon lower back as he held the door open for Napoleon and walked in behind him and Napoleon felt like his skin was on fire from the touch.
They all sat down at a booth in the far corner. The bar was dimly lit and loud, the sound of music dull over the roar of laughing and talk. People were throwing darts, playing pool, dancing. It was lively.
“First round’s on me since I suggested it. What do you guys want?” Gaby stood at the end of the table waiting for their orders. Napoleon ordered a whiskey on ice while Illya ordered a gin and tonic. Illya didn’t drink much and it still surprised both Gaby and Napoleon every time.
“Whiskey and gin. Coming right up!” she yelled and disappeared into the crowd of people, her tiny body easily lost in the mass.
“So, how was your day?” Napoleon asked, having to lean close so Illya could hear. Illya looked him with a blank stare before answering.
“Was good. Students don’t know Russian still after almost whole quarter of class and it is little frustrating. Think they should be taking language class along with the literature” Illya’s English was rocky but his voice was smooth and Napoleon loved to just listen to him talk.
“Ah, Peril, there are translated versions you could teach” Napoleon suggested. Napoleon leaned closer to Illya, just wanting to get a little closer like a moth to a flame.
He’s known Illya for over a year now and Illya was just now opening up to him. Napoleon had learned a little of his life in Russia — dull, not very exciting — and of his hobbies; reading and chess. Illya may not have talked much about himself and more about arbitrary things but Napoleon still found himself falling for the tall, somewhat mysterious Russian.
“How was your day, Cowboy? You haven’t said much since earlier which isn’t like you” Illya teased. Napoleon huffed a laugh.
“Well, my day was quite unexciting. The usual, ya know— teaching, grading, debating my life choices” Napoleon quipped.
Illya hummed and nodded. “Hope you are not thinking of quitting. Work would be boring without you.”
“Oh” Napoleon said dumbly. “No, Peril, no need to worry. I will be staying”
Gaby showed up before Napoleon could say anything else. She set the glasses down in front of each person before sitting down herself.
“A toast” she suggested, raising her glass.
“A toast” Napoleon and Illya echoed, mimicking Gaby’s actions.
“To us! May we last forever” Gaby said before knocking her glass against theirs.
Conversation flowed between the three. Gaby gushed about some new teacher she found hot and Illya talked about how the teacher’s lounge was always dirty. Napoleon laughed and contributed what he could. He mostly listened, nursing his drink close to him.
Napoleon was on his fifth drink— moving from whiskey to orange juice and vodka— when he decided he was ready to leave. He was looking around for Gaby so he could drag her back to her place where he could peacefully sleep off his eventual hangover.
Gaby was off on the floor dancing with some girl. The girl said something to Gaby that made her laugh and hit her on the arm. Napoleon cursed and realised that he was going to have to call a cab. He patted his body drunkenly trying to look for his phone.
“Cowboy? You ok?” Illya asked, leaning in close to Napoleon’s face and looking in his eyes.
“You have such pretty eyes, Peril. So blue” he started. Illya’s eyes were nice and inviting and Napoleon didn’t want to stop looking in them. He wanted to look at them all day. God, he was drunk.
“You had too much to drink. Should get you home” Illya said, pushing away his and Napoleon’s glasses.
“No, I live far” Napoleon whined, clinging to Illya’s jacket. “Just take me to Gaby’s. I’m gonna crash at her place”
“Gaby will be having company tonight it seems” Illya said, throwing a look over his shoulder at where Gaby was now making out with the girl from the dance floor. “You can sleep on my couch.”
“You are so sweet, Peril. Sweet like candy. I wanna eat you up” he giggled. Napoleon swore to himself that he would never drink so much again.
“C’mon, let’s get you out of here” Illya ducked and slung Napoleon’s arm over his shoulder so he could help walk Napoleon to his apartment complex.
It wasn’t more than a 5 minute walk. Napoleon babbled on the whole time about the colour blue, how it could be represented in art, and how Illya’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue and Napoleon wanted to paint them.
Once inside Illya’s apartment, Napoleon completely collapsed onto his couch, taking Illya down with him. He laughed in drunken delight as Illya grumbled and untangled himself from Napoleon. Illya took off Napoleon’s shoes and jacket and made him lie down on the couch.
Illya walked down the hall to grab a blanket from the closet and when he got back into the living room, Napoleon seemed to be asleep already, his eyes closed and his breathing even.
Illya put the blanket over Napoleon, tucking him in. Napoleon grumbled and opened his eyes to only come eye to eye with Illya. Illya smiled softly as he tucked in Napoleon.
“Sleep, Cowboy. In the morning, you will have bad hangover. Do not throw up on my floor” Illya stood up to walk away before Napoleon grabbed his hand.
“Illya, I have to tell you something” he whispered. Napoleon kept his eyes closed.
“What, Cowboy? Is late, so hurry” Illya huffed. A little surprised that Napoleon actually used his real name instead of the now affectionate nickname that he gave him more than a year ago when they first met. Illya felt a flutter in his stomach at the sound of his real name coming from Napoleon.
“I’m in love with you, Illya” Napoleon slurred. It sounded real and sincere. Illya froze. What do you say to a drunken love confession from the guy you also have a crush on? Illya shook his head. Napoleon would forget about this in the morning, surely.
“You are shitfaced, Cowboy” Illya insisted, trying to get Napoleon to let go of his hand so he could walk off to his bedroom and sleep. This felt like a walking nightmare. Having the guy Illya’s been pining after since he met him suddenly confess his love for him while he’s drunk isn’t ideal. Especially when he knew he’s going to forget in the morning.
“I can be both” Napoleon quipped and he brought Illya’s hand to his mouth and gave it a soft kiss.
“Kind of embarrassing that I have to be drunk to finally admit that I’m in love with you but, whatever” Napoleon admitted. Illya’s face burned as a blush took over.
“You are drunk. You forget this in morning” Illya said, going to move again.
“No!” Napoleon yelled making Illya stop dead in his tracks.
“I’ll remember. Illya, I-“ Napoleon sighed and groaned, tugging on his hair.
“I’ll remember, Peril. Even drunk, I could never forget something like this. I’ve liked you since we first started talking! This is stupid and I’m stupid but that’s how it is” Napoleon confessed.
Illya blinked owlishly at him.
“You are stupid, Cowboy. But I guess I am stupid, too, because I have liked you for very long time also” he said, looking down at the ground.
Napoleon stood up gingerly, trying not to upset his body. He cupped Illya’s face in his hands and looked deep into his eyes.
“Do you mean it?”
Illya nodded.
Napoleon kissed Illya. It was soft, and his stomach did somersaults when Illya placed his hands on Napoleon’s hips and kissed him back. Illya tasted like gin and Napoleon was sure he tasted like whiskey and this wasn’t exactly how Napoleon pictured their first kiss.
After a couple of minutes, Illya pulled away breathless. He leaned his forehead ead against Napoleon’s and smiled.
“Sleep, Cowboy. We will talk in morning, yes?” Napoleon nodded before kissing Illya one last time. He laid back on the couch and got under the covers.
“We’ll talk in the morning, Peril. I promise. I won’t forget” He said before closing his eyes and falling asleep fast.
Needless to say, there wasn’t a lot of talking in the morning. Just a lot of kissing and whispered confession and affection and sex. Plenty of sex. Napoleon wouldn’t leave Illya’s bed for the rest of the weekend. Too happy with his new Russian boyfriend to even think of leaving the bed.