Chapter Text
The day had started like any other pre-mission day. Gaby prepared herself to play her role as Illya’s fake wife. Again. This time Illya was a small-time fashion designer, visiting Milan with his aspiring model wife. She took an extra half hour trying to get her hair just right, deciding her character, Mrs. Elsa Solokov, would be more meticulous about her appearance than Gaby Teller the chop shop girl from East Berlin.
Eventually, she met up with both of the boys to go over the plan for the next few days of action. It was all straightforward, infiltration and immersion.
The biggest, frankly scariest portion of the mission was the “main event.” There was going to be a private fashion show sponsored by their target, and Gaby was going to play her part as the wanna-be model by walking the catwalk.
Of course, she was also supposed to be focusing on chit-chat between the models and coordinators, but in the end she was still being whisked into the frantically glamorous life of a model.
It’s just going to be a walk, a simple walk in pretty clothes, she reminded herself for the millionth time as she put on her fur-trimmed coat to go down to the car with her “husband.”
Illya gave her a questioning, worried look as she took a deep, shaky breath. It was subtle, as were most of his expressions, but it was noticeable enough for her. She shrugged it off and turned to Solo. “Isn’t it time for you to leave?”
He gave her a charming look in response, as usual. “I think you’re right.” He sighed dramatically and swirled his drink before downing it. “In that case, I wish you both a long and prosperous marriage.” He turned to the door and started to step out before raising a finger. “Oh, I almost forgot. I took the liberty of arranging your hotel room this time. I hope you like it.” With one last, infuriating grin, he left them.
Gaby narrowed her eyes, wondering what he meant by that, exactly. Before she could think up anything truly horrible, Illya sighed impatiently and hoisted up their bags.
“Let’s go.”
Peering up at him from over her thick-rimmed sunglasses, Gaby could see the tenseness under his eyes. He was just as concerned with whatever Napoleon’s plan was as well. As she made her way down to the car, she hoped it wasn’t going to be anything more than a little joke, she wasn’t sure Illya could handle even a small amount of teasing.
**
Mr. and Mrs. Solokov checked into the hotel right on time, arms twined together, fingers knit. Gaby leaned into the wall of man next to her, drawing strength from his steadiness. She made sure to toss up a few “loving” glances at him as they wandered through the lobby and up to their room.
As soon as the door to their suite shut, they separated. Illya got to work scanning the room for any surprises from Solo in the form of bugs. He found a few and left them, rolling his eyes.
Gaby, however, wandered through to see what she had to deal with for the next few days. Spacious rooms, a stocked minibar, a nice balcony overlooking the romantic skyline of the city, a comfortably luxurious marble bathroom, and a delightfully plush bed.
One, solitary bed.
Suddenly Solo’s teasing comment made sense.
Gaby stood at the door of the bedroom and sighed. Slowly she turned her head towards Illya. In a singsong voice, the one she usually reserved for their public displays, she called out to him. “Oh, Darling? Come look at this.”
The corner of the room Illya stood in iced over. Slowly he walked over and stood behind her. He was completely tense, apparently mistaking her tone as a warning for danger. His brow knit tightly as he scanned the room.
Then his eyes narrowed as he eyed the single bed.
With a resigned sigh, he turned back to the larger room of the suite. “I’ll take the couch.”
One glance at the couch was all Gaby needed to realize there was no way Illya would fit on it comfortably. “Don’t be ridiculous, that thing is far too small for you.”
He glared down at it, almost as if he was dejectedly willing it to grow.
“You’ll just have to sleep on the bed with me. There’s plenty of room, I don’t take up much space.”
As she turned away to refresh her perfume, she heard his faint mumble of “I do.”
**
After an uneventful day touring the city and pretending to be lovers, Illya and Gaby returned to their room. Like always, they dropped the lovey couple act as soon as the door shut. Illya set up his chess set for a round or two by himself.
Gaby, on the other hand, sat down to enjoy some of the delights the minibar had to offer. She didn’t drink often, but the first night on a mission was stressful. She only allowed herself two glasses this time, lest she tackle Illya again.
A short while later, she was in a happy daze from her drinks, and she felt the urge to bother him and gave in. With two quick steps she made her way over to him from the couch where she had been lounging, and reached out to move one of the pieces he was staring at so intently.
Before her finger touched the stone piece, Illya’s massive fist closed around her wrist. “Don’t,” he growled without even looking up at her.
Keeping her fingers outstretched to the board, she studied him. He was steady as ever, he just didn’t want to be bothered. His grip was loose, his calloused fingers barely grazing the soft flesh of her wrist. More than anything, it was a simple warning, advising her against annoying him.
But she couldn’t resist. With a wide grin, she flicked the pawn closest to her finger over, causing it to skitter across the board and knock down a knight.
Illya’s grip tensed as he watched his game fall apart. With a heavy, impatient sigh, he looked up at her through his lashes, his bright blue eyes burning with irritation. She held his gaze with a cheeky grin, testing her luck.
There was something startlingly soft about his actions. Only his hand and face betrayed any emotion, the rest of his body was relaxed and easy. No tapping feet, no twitching fingers. If Solo had tried this, he would have earned himself a black eye. But Gaby knew she was perfectly safe. It gave her a dangerous confidence.
Eventually, Illya broke their locked gaze, rolling his head a bit as he turned back to his destroyed game. Gingerly, he released her wrist and set out to putting everything back where it was.
Smugly, Gaby turned to the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll leave you some space. Don’t stay up too late and all that.”
He hummed in response.
Gaby sunk into the thick covers of the bed, burying herself in the absolute lavishness of it. The sheets smelled fresh, and faintly of lavender. Her sleepy head swam with the delight of the comfort around her. Wiggling her toes and stretching, she happily took up as much space as she could. She stayed there, sprawled over the bed, dozing, until she heard Illya shift in the next room and abruptly remembered that they would have to share the bed.
Reluctantly, she rolled over to her side and tucked the sheets around her. It was still incredibly comfortable, but the thought of being back to back with Illya all night, fighting over space and sheets, was less than comforting. She was used to his presence when she slept, sure, they had shared a hotel room multiple times now. But it was always with separate beds. Now?
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to sleep, hoping she could just sleep through it all.
It didn’t come.
As tired as she was, she couldn’t sleep. Fidgeting with the lapel of her pajamas, she listened to the soft sounds of Illya moving through the suite, preparing for bed.
He was remarkably silent for such an imposing man. His footsteps were heavy, suitable for his weight and size, but were not loud or obtrusive. Even the expected loud sounds were dampened. He was incredibly attentive to the sound he made: packing away each individual piece to avoid clacking sounds, using only a small stream of water to brush his teeth and wash his face to avoid any loud splashes. She could still hear him fussing around, and she still knew exactly what he was doing and when, but every sound was delightfully faint.
After a few minutes of his gentle shuffling, he made his way to the bedroom in the dark. Gaby was hyper-aware of him behind her as he gracefully slipped between the sheets. The bed barely jostled with the new occupant, and she was sure if she had been asleep she wouldn’t have known he’d come to bed. The smell of his soap, musky but clean, washed over her. He shifted to get comfortable, using significantly less of the covers than she was expecting, then went still.
Silence crashed through the room, only Illya’s steady breathing and the ticking of the alarm clock broke it. Gaby breathed shallowly to hide any sound, weary of bothering the giant next to her.
Gradually, she could feel heat radiating from him, soothing her. Then, a gentle snore, barely louder than a normal breath.
He was out.
Carefully rolling over, she studied him. Broad shoulders illuminated by the curtained window behind them, silhouetted against the soft glow of the rest of the room. Gently rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his quiet snoring.
Gaby didn’t even realize her eyes had closed as she dozed off.
**
As usual, Illya woke to the first sign of daylight, a shard of orange streaking out over the room. Blearily, he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and shifted to get up.
But he couldn’t.
There was something on his back, heavy and warm, keeping him from moving.
Knitting his brow, he twisted to look over his shoulder, mind racing at the possibilities.
Instead of any threat, he found Gaby tightly curled up in a mound of blankets, tucked into the curve of his back, sound asleep.
He turned back to lay normally, thinking over how that could have happened, and weighing his options for what to do next.
He finally settled on staying put, allowing her to get her sleep.
Staying as still as possible for her, he stared at the wall, mind fluctuating between thinking about everything and nothing. The mission ran through his head a few times as he reassured himself of what he needed to do. He also pondered the design of the wallpaper, redesigning it to his tastes.
His haphazard thoughts were interrupted when a small, slim hand slid over his chest, gripping lazily at the front of his shirt. Confused, he looked down at Gaby’s hand as she nuzzled his back. Obviously she was completely unaware of what she was doing, and was likely just trying to soak up his body heat. He considered getting up to adjust the temperature of the room so she would be more comfortable, but he changed his mind when he realized that would mean extracting himself from her arms, which would likely wake her.
So again, he decided to just do nothing and allow the little chop-shop girl to do what she pleased.
Two agonizingly boring hours later, Gaby’s hand splayed taut as the rest of her body stretched like a cat. She let out a loud moaning yawn at the stretch. Illya pursed his lips as he avoided thinking about anything too much.
Behind him, Gaby went still. It wasn’t the same still she had been for hours. It was far more aware, processing.
Sheepishly and slowly, her hand snaked back over his side. Cold air rushed into the space between them as she moved back. The bed rocked and the sheets pulled as she rolled over.
An uncomfortable silence settled around the room.
Giving up, Illya sat up and rubbed his hand over his head, mussing up his bed head.
Beside him, the mound of blankets mumbled something unintelligible.
Cocking a brow, he asked, “What?”
Gaby poked her head out of the blankets just enough to reveal bright red cheeks as she muttered venomously, “Don’t tell Napoleon.”
With a soft snort, Illya nodded. “I won’t.”