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Fishing a man as big as Illya Kuryakin from the water was no easy task and Solo had to take several moments to regain his own breath before he could even think about the person whose life he may have just saved.
When he was recovered enough for his whereabouts to come back into focus he turned his attention to Kuryakin and felt a spike of urgency upon realising the KGB agent was unconscious and far too still.
“Peril?” Solo called, as he slapped Kuryakin on the cheeks admittedly harder than necessary. “Come on, no time for sleeping on the job. We have to go.”
Nothing.
It was too dark to see much, although Solo could swear the hint of a blue tinge was forming on what he could make out of Kuryakin’s face. He cursed, bent over the unconscious form which was looking more like a corpse with each passing second, and positioned Kuryakin so he could put to use some of the first aid he’d been forced to learn when the CIA had first gotten their paws on him.
Fully prepared for Kuryakin to punch him in the face if this worked, Solo tilted Kuryakin’s head between his hands and placed his mouth over his partner’s, expelling his own air into Kuryakin’s lungs.
“Breathe, damn you,” Solo muttered when nothing happened.
He did it again but Kuryakin’s lips were stiff and cold under his own. Probably how Kuryakin kissed even when he was conscious, Solo mused, although he struggled to imagine someone like Kuryakin, who could fly into a psychotic rage quicker than anyone Solo had ever seen, caring much for kissing. Though he did seem strangely…fond? of Gaby, something that Solo would be very intrigued by if there was more time.
Another kiss, another minute passing. Solo needed to give up and get out of here. Kuryakin was dead. He was –
A violent jolt and a gasping, spluttering breath knocked Solo back on his ass. He muttered “thank God”, his momentarily lost senses returning again, and scooted back up to Kuryakin and tried to help him sit. Kuryakin was already mumbling in Russain and pushing Solo away.
At least there was no punch in the face.
“Are you alright?” Solo demanded. “We need to get out of here.”
Kuryakin spluttered out the last of the water he’d swallowed and nodded, refusing to let Solo give him a hand to his feet even though he was shaking and stumbling like a drunk as he stood.
Before Solo could think much more about the incident beside still feeling the tingle of those cold, still lips upon his they hurried from the scene as fast as they could.