Feb. 14th, 2017

[identity profile] glennagirl.livejournal.com
Well, I think everyone knows who we love and it's been going on for about fifty years for some of us.  That is an incredible number to think about, and for those of you who are newer to this affair, I commend you for your good taste in older men.
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[identity profile] lilidelafield.livejournal.com



What if Pia and Napoleon had actually gotten married?

Before . . .
            “Well sir, she is my wife now, regardless of the circumstances, and if I do nothing else for her, I have to see that she is all right. She is an innocent in all of this, sir!”

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[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com

THE Prompt: THANKS to Jantojones whose comment on my Short Affair yesterday helped to inspire this story!


He supposed it would be a welcome respite from his life with UNCLE; Illya Kuryakin had been given a few days off to recuperate from an injury to his hand and wrist sustained in his last mission with his partner, though he really didn’t want to take the time off.


His right hand was no good at the moment as the ligaments and tendons were quite swollen and tender. He’d insisted he could still work as he was ambidextrous, and could shoot with either hand, but Doctor Greene in Medical would hear nothing of it.


A brace was put in place, though Illya protested against that as well.


After leaving the Medical suite Kuryakin went to the Commissary to eat. He tried eating a hearty meal of steak au poivre with a cream sauce and asparagus. It wasn’t made with filet mignon, but it was  nicely done and not overcooked, which Cookie had a tendency to do.


The Russian found he couldn’t really enjoy his meal as every woman who entered the cafeteria took turns fawning over him, wanting to cut up his food for him, or feed him. like he was a child.


“Happy Valentine’s Day Illya, want to be my Valentine? I’ll take good care of you?” They cooed and crooned.


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[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
Stars.jpg

For the first time in three weeks, the night sky above Illya’s mountain hideaway was clear. Donning a hat to disguise himself, in case he was observed from a distance, he went outside and set up his telescope. Stargazing would give him something else with which to occupy his time. Illya had brought many books and journals with him on his enforced retreat, but he was getting through them a little faster than he’d thought.

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