NOTTING HILL AU
Napoleon Solo is the world's most famous movie star. His picture has been plastered on the cover of every magazine, and every time he makes a move, the entire world knows about it. Illya Kuryakin owns a watch store. His business is stagnant, he has the roommate from hell, Gaby, and because of his work, his love life is completely non-existent. For both, something or someone seems to be missing. And when Napoleon and Illya's paths unexpectedly cross in the eclectic neighborhood of Notting Hill, romance is the last thing on their minds.
Waverly points at a man and him, a journalist, starts to talk asking: "Last time you were here, there were some fairly graphic photographs of you and a young Russian guy... so what happened there?" Napoleon cleans his throat and answers without hesitation. "He was just a friend, I hope we're still friends."
At those words, in the middle of the crowd, like pushed by an invisible force, a hand rises. "Next question? Yes. You with the cap." Now Waverly's finger is pointed right at him and Illya takes few seconds to realize what is happening. He grabs his courage and talks. "Uh, right. Mr. Solo, are there any circumstances that you and he might be more than... just friends." Napoleon opens his eyes widely feeling a lump in the pit of the stomach. What the hell Illya’s doing there? He doesn't know how but words starts spilling out of his mouth. "I hoped that there would be but I've been assured that there's not." Bitter and painful words.
"Yes, but what if..." Illya tries to say but Waverly interrupts him straight away. "I'm sorry. Just the one question." Luckily for him Napoleon's curiosity is far more strong than Waverly's will. "No. It's alright. You were saying?"
Their eyes meet in the middle of all those people suddenly silent. "I was just wondering... what if this person..." "Kuryakin. His name is Kuryakin." "Right. Thanks." A journalist suggests the name and Napoleon chuckle for a second before Illya continues to talk with a guilty, trembling and cute voice. "What if, uh, Mr. Kuryakin realized that he had been a daft prick and got down on his knees and begged you to reconsider if you would... indeed... reconsider?"
Dead silence. All the people are holding their breath, including Illya. Napoleon's face is a marmoreal mask, impassive and motionless.
Then, like a drop of cold rain on the back of the neck in a hot summer day, a sweet, lovely smile appears on Napoleon's lips and Illya's heart instantly melts.
"...Yes. I believe I would."
