“Are you okay?”
“Easy job! You will get out of the lab for a while, you said!” Illya spat out.
“It was on a children’s playground. I thought even you would be safe there.”
“Just a playground,” the Russian gritted his teeth. “You forgot to mention it would be their lunch hour.”
“After receiving the drop, a girl scream that I was some English singer. A pack of girls mobbed me. Backing up to get away, I tripped on a hole, fell in the mud, and tore my pants.”
Napoleon was struggling not to burst out laughing, but a murdering glare from Illya had him swallowing it.
Smiling Napoleon said, “It was only mud. You have the packet, correct?”
Illya threw the mud-covered package on the desk, spattering Napoleon with flying muck.
“Hey, now I’m filthy.” Napoleon pouted.
“Well, it is only mud. I need a shower and clothing change.” Rolling his eyes, Illya smirked turning toward the door.
“This is war. You realize that Kuryakin don’t you?” Napoleon threatened to a closing door.
“You are in no shape to do this alone. Why are you insisting on no help?” Illya was tired of this argument.
“The doctor said you shouldn’t try walking without someone accompanying you.”
Just then they arrived at Physical Therapy. The therapist spotted them and broke into a smile.
“I’ll take over Mr. Kuryakin. Oh you poor dear, Mr. Solo. Let me help you into a wheelchair. Don’t want you tiring out too fast do we?”
“I should have known,” Illya whispered.
Napoleon flashed Illya a mischievous grin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Napoleon said looking at her with puppy dog eyes and giving her a seductive smile. “Thanks, Denise. It was a long walk. I just hate being a bother to my friends and your department. Besides, the doctor did say I should try walking more.”
“Let me get you a glass of juice before your exercises. Afterward, we’ll have a good lunch to help strengthen your leg muscles.”
“That would be enjoyable,” Napoleon said shooing Illya away.
Rolling his eyes, Illya left Napoleon in Denise eager hands.
“What are you doing at the reception desk?” A surprised Napoleon asked.
“With the cold going around, there is no one who could work here. As I'm on desk duty…” Illya shrugged.
Napoleon leaned down to have his badge placed.
“You can't be serious,” Illya glared.
“But the girls always put it on for me,” Napoleon whined.
“I am neither the girls or your personal butler.”
The American grabbed the offered badge fumbling as he tried to place it.
“Give me that,” and placed it.
Walking away, Napoleon smirked.
“I saw that. Remember, revenge is sweet.” Illya’s call following him.
I'd like to rec a story that was just posted today. Written by jkkitty, it's for the LIFECYCLE CHALLENGE: Companionship.
Titled : "If Walls Could Talk"
It's a very clever and well written story from a different POV. For jkkitty to be posting this only days after losing her husband of 40 years is a major show of strength on her part and her love of the MFU.
Hello there. Glad you could join us. I was just explaining to these agents here that people say if walls could talk what tales we would tell. Well if anyone were to ask, I’d be more than happy to share some of my favorite stories with them.
Finally, he had to ask. “What is it that has you so upset?”
“It is February?” Illya let his unhappiness show.
“We’re in the upper Mid-west.”
“Milwaukee is considered as such.”
“And February is the middle of winter?”
Napoleon smiled knowing what the problem was. “Milwaukee is having a heatwave. What’s a matter too hot for you?” He teased.
“In Russia, winter is winter, not 65 degrees.” With that Illya slammed the bathroom door turning on a cold shower.
“He needs you, old chap.” Mark tried.
“No, not happening.”
“But he needs help.” April reminded him.
“I’m not driving him.”
“He’s your partner Napoleon. He can’t drive there by himself with the cast on his leg,” April tried again.
“The cast will be off in a few weeks then he can go himself.”
“But Waverly said he needed to get it done before he can even do desk work. You’re his partner.”
“Fine, but last time I took Illya to the barber, I had to watch my strong, stubborn partner cry.”
Prompt Word Taste and Loose
Prompt Colour Gray
Word count 432
Illya was enjoying this self-assigned mission. He and Anna were in and out of shops all day looking for the perfect fit for her wedding. Surprised when she asked him to help, he just couldn’t say no.
He took the assignment seriously, as she asked his option each time they reached a new store. Not one to just say whether he like something immediately, he made sure to check out everything, at least, a few times.
Many of the other brides-to-be giggled as they watched him rate each item presented to him. And more than a few sighed wondering how Anna had managed to land him. Went hearing this, he did nothing to dissuade them from their beliefs as he didn’t feel like fight off any of the other sex today.
The day was long, but by the late afternoon they were done, and Illya headed back to headquarters for an evening meeting.
Napoleon found his partner, head down on his desk.
“Where were you?” As Illya raised his head, the American saw how gray his face was. Concerned he asked, “What happen to you? You look like death warmed over.”
“I do not feel well,” Illya said loosening his belt. “My head and stomach are killing me.”
“I can see it. Do you need to go to medical?”
“No. I think that I will just die in peace just laying here if you do not mind.”
“Can I get you some soup or something from the cafeteria?”
“Okay, now you have me worried Illya. You don’t refuse food. What is going on?”
Illya slowly sat up straight looking as if he would need to run to the bathroom quickly if he moved any faster. I was doing a favor for Anna. She asked if I would be willing to help her make some selections. As I had nothing else to do, I agreed.”
“And how does this have to do with how bad you look?”
“I was just helping Anna out. We spend all day checking out cakes and frostings for her wedding.”
Napoleon let loose a loud laugh that built into hilarious laughter. When he finally could get himself under control, he asked. “Would you like some Alka-Seltzer?”
“What I would like is to die. Go away and leave me alone.”
Picking up a file, Napoleon headed for the door. “I’ll tell Mr. Waverly you’re dealing with a problem and unable to make the meeting.”
As he reached the door, Napoleon heard a small voice coming from the desk.
“Last time I agree for someone getting married to taste cake. Oh my stomach and head.”
Prompt words: Arch, Vanish
Prompt Colour: Pink
Napoleon leaned against the Gateway Arch of St. Louis waiting for his partner to join him. Looking over the Mississippi River, he felt a calm that wasn’t something he felt often. He watched the slow moving river imagining he was in another place and time.
This part of the trail had been destroyed, and Waverly had given them two days of relaxation before they would receive their orders for the next part of the trail they were following.
Illya showed up as he popped the last of a hot dog in his mouth.
“Are you ready to get aboard the next tram? It will be here in a minute.” Napoleon asked shaded his eyes as he looked up at the sixty-three story structure.
“Why are we doing this again? I could be back at the hotel reading an enjoyable book.” Illya looked up. “Besides what’s so special about it?”
“It’s called relaxing while sightseeing. Besides this is an important part of American history. The Arch was built as a monument to the country’s westward expansion, and the view is unbelievable from the top.”
“Well, then we have to do it. It not often that you want to view something besides a woman’s behind.” Illya teased as he headed toward the Arch’s line.
“Hey, wait a minute. I look at things other than women and their attributes.” Napoleon complained as he caught up with his partner.
Illya smirked. “If you say so, the line is moving let’s go.”
The trip in the tram capsules up the Arch brought the men to the top of it and the crowds already present. Both sides of the Arch had sixteen small windows many of them were filled with visitors. Taking an empty window on the east side, they looked down on the Mississippi River, which was highlighted with a pink reflection of the sunset.
“It is beautiful,” Illya said in a voice filled with wonder. “How far can we see?”
“We’re lucky that it is a clear night. According to the brochure, we should be able to see thirty miles in either direction. Right now, we’re looking at Illinois from the west side we will be able to see St. Louis, Missouri.”
They stood there while the sun continued to set and the view of the river vanished. As they entered the last capsule of the night to take them to the ground, each allowed the peace of their surroundings to lighten their thoughts and souls for at least a while.