"Napoleon."
Hot breath tickled his ear and he could barely hear the soft whisper. A gentle hand smoothed over his forehead, softly brushing back his hair.
"Napoleon."
"Mmmmmmm." He was still drifting pleasantly on the edge of sleep, enjoying the warmth and contentment that pervaded his whole being.
"Napoleon!" Sharp teeth nipped carefully at his ear. He sighed and tried to shake off whoever was trying to interrupt his sleep. Oh yes, it had to be Illya.
"What do you want?" he mumbled as he buried his head further into his jacket.
"We're home."
"Hmmmm, that's nice."
A soft laugh rolled over him, causing warm shivers to race up his back. "That means you need to wake up and get out of the car, lyubovnik."
"Do I have to?" He let out a big sigh and turned his face into Illya's shoulder. "Can't you just use a secret Thrush device and transport me upstairs without my having to even open my eyes?"
"I'm afraid not."
"But I want to go back to sleep. I was having the most unusual dream and I want to know how it ended. You were there... We were up in the mountains, going—camping?"
"You sound so puzzled. What, weren't you expecting to be outdoors, even in your dreams, Polya?" He could hear the smile in Illya's voice.
"No, that's not it. We were both still in our work clothes, trying to hike up the mountainside in dress shoes and ties."
The shoulder pillowing his head shook with repressed laughter. "I'll be your hair wasn't even mussed, was it?"
"No, it wasn't..."
"Now that I can do something about." The hand that had been gently stroking his shoulder moved to the base of his neck as Illya's other hand cupped his cheek. Strong fingers worked their way into his hair, massaging his scalp and turning his mouth up to meet Illya's.
"Mmmmmmm, yes, I know you can," he replied when Illya released his mouth for a moment. "I like it when you do."
"You like it when I mess up your hair?"
"Ooooooh, yes." His head fell foward as Illya's fingers continued working their magic. "Have you ever considered an alternate career?"
"Such as?"
"Hmmmmm, masseuse. Or maybe a hairdresser. You did so well convincing Effie's niece that you were the very best."
"I am the very best."
He raised his head to look at his lover. "Yes, you are," he growled, eyes focused on Illya's mouth. "The best at everything."
A slow, sensuous smile spread across Illya's lips. "I'm so glad we agree. Now, wake up enough to get upstairs so I can prove it yet again."
I dreamed a dream,
And I'm glad I dreamt it:
I dreamed my hair was kempt
And my true love unkempt it.
I couldn't resist—that verse just screamed "Napoleon!" to me. :)
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