Work Text:
"You obtuse and self-centered girl." Illya complained yet again.
"I have no idea what you’re talking about." Lydia said in a high and mighty voice before she threw yet another dress on the floor
Illya took a deep breath before he slowly picked up the dress from the floor, "Didn’t your mother teach you how to behave..?" He thought aloud, but Lydia didn’t seem to hear, she had already moved along down the row of clothes.
"None of these are good enough for me, you have to make a new one. Immediately."
The blond man swore silently and cursed Napoleon for putting him in this situation. If it hadn’t been for his charming partner he wouldn’t have been in this mess, plagued by the worst woman in the history of women. "Fine, Miss. Will you please follow me and help me to draw your new dress?"
"Only if I can design it as I want." She pouted and Illya took another deep breath. He was going to kill her soon if his partner didn’t arrive soon.
"Certainly." He pointed to his worktable and they both sat down.
"I don’t understand how you can work in these conditions and at such a small desk. Tsk, tsk." She wrinkled her nose at the table, and anything else she could see in the office.
"I like it, Miss." He calmly explained and turned away from her and started to draw a new dress.
"No, no. Not like that, you incompetent man. Let me do it." She took the paper and pencil from him and started drawing. He clenched his teeth in frustration. He really was going to kill Napoleon – and the girl – when Napoleon got back.
Just as she was starting to complain and whine about her drawing skill not being what it used to be, Napoleon walked into the room with a big smile, but it soon faltered as he saw the murderous look on Illya's face.
"Hiya kids, having, ah, fun?" Napoleon said in a low tone, while Illya rose to his feet, and when Napoleon saw the intense gaze shift to his crotch he backed away sowly. "Now Illya..." He said in a nervous tone, but they both were interrupted by Lydia.
"Mr. Kuriakyn. Stop doing whatever you’re doing, I need your help." The whiny voice cut into Illya’s brain like a knife and he looked pleadingly at Napoleon.
"That’s Kuryakin, my dear." Napoleon patiently explained and joined Lydia at the table and nearly fainted when he saw the dress. "Illya," he choked and Illya joined Napoleon and looked over his shoulder at the dress and nearly fainted too.
It was dark purple, with read details and a deep v-neck and more lace and buttons than either one of them dared to count. She looked up at them in anticipation, but they both turned towards her and said in unison,
"No way!"
The End