"Cool as a cucumber, or maybe a potato." For the Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Balcony

-Prompt Colour – Green

Title: "Cool as a cucumber or maybe a potato."

Author: mrua7

It was hot, unbearably so for Illya Kuryakin. Though he’d finally become accustomed to warmer temperatures living in New York; today was an exception.

The thermometer hanging near his  living room window read 95 degrees and it was only 10 o’clock in the morning.

His skin was drenched with perspiration even though he’d jumped into his his shower several times; running the tepid water that should have been cold. It didn’t really help. Neither did the cold bottle of vodka he held against his temple....

Napoleon, no doubt, was cool as cucumber...Illya wondered where that saying had come from, and why would a cucumber be cool and not a tomato or zucchini for that matter? “Why not a potato, certainly that would be cool growing under the soil since it was a root vegetable, like a carrot. "No, wait, a potato is a stem, not a root vegetable,” he corrected himself. The heat was really getting to him.

“Why not cool as a carrot? Why could he not be cool like his partner always is?”

He shook his head, thinking he was losing his mind pondering over such trivialities, but then the English language was still a conundrum to him at times. At least he no longer had difficulties with sayings like ‘cool as a cucumber.’  

No longer questioning such things and taking them at face value instead of the literal sense was a rule that finally settled in with the Russian. He could speak countless languages, but still it was American English that often vexed him.

Solo’s coded knock drew Illya away from his thoughts.

“Good morning,” Napoleon said as he entered the apartment carrying a sackful of bagels and croissants...their usual Sunday fare.

Despite the heat Illya had cooked bacon and sausage, as well as hash brown potatoes. There was coffee and tea, but he’d made them iced, and they stood ready in his refrigerator.

He took note, seeing perspiration staining the back of Solo’s shirt and underarms; a near impossibility as far as he could recall.

“I’ve gotta say, it’s hot as blazes today. I’m not happy my air conditioner stopped working and it needs to be repaired.”

“I was wondering why we're not taking our repast in your place.”

“I thought about going to headquarters and setting up in guest quarters but sadly, there’s no room at the inn?”

“What inn are you speaking of?” Illya quirked his head, just a little confused.

Napoleon laughed, ”It’s just a saying, meaning guest quarters were already occupied.”

“Oh, why did you not say...never mind, I understand.”

Solo began to sweat even more in the Russian’s little apartment, despite the fact all the windows were open. There was a breeze but it was humid and made their skin feel even more damp.

“You know, I have an idea. I need to use your phone.” Napoleon snapped his finger.

“Be my guest,” Illya replied as he munched on a slice of bacon.

A few minutes later Solo returned from using the telephone in Illya’s bedroom.

“Pack it up, along with a change of clothes and your bathing trunks.”

“We have an assignment?”

“No, just a change of location,” Napoleon grinned like a cheshire cat.

“What have you done?”

“You’ll see.”

Breakfast was carefully packed in Tupperware and put in paper sacks.  Though Napoleon advised his partner to leave the butter and cream cheese as well as the beverages.

Solo returned from his apartment carrying a small valise, with Illya having the same; together they descended the stairs to the street.

A moment later a checkered cab appeared as if on cue.

“Hi-ya Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin,” It was Ernie from UNCLE transportation. “All ready?”

“You bet!” Napoleon crooned.

“Where are we going?” Illya waited for his answer.

“Patience.You’ll see tovarisch.”

The bags were put inside the trunk while Illya held onto the paper sack, sitting in the back seat of the taxi.

“Croissant or bagel?” Napoleon offered Ernie.

“Neither, too hot to eat. Going to be a real scorcher. News said it’ll be over 100 degrees by noon...bet you could fry an egg on the sidewalk.”

“That has never been scientifically proven,” Illya said.

“Really?”Ernie’s eyebrows raised in surprise.”I may have to try it one day.”

“Waste of good food,” Kuryakin mumbled.

Their drive took but fifteen minutes, and when they pulled up to their destination, a doorman appeared, summoning help. A bellboy quickly arrived, taking their luggage, but Illya held onto the food.

“A hotel?”

“Not just any hotel, it’s the Hotel Paris. Has a 50 foot indoor swimming pool, air condtioning; the rooms are small, but always does the trick.”

“Napoleon this will be costly. I have no spare money for this.”

“Don’t worry chum. We’ve got the penthouse suite and it’s taken care of.  I have enough left on my expense account to more than cover it.”

“The penthouse? That will send up red flags to accounting will it not?”

“Hey, I have an in here with the concierge.”

“Oh so this is where you take your dates to woo them into..”

“Ahhh, yes, you might say that. The rates are reasonable if said lady doesn’t want to go back to her place.”

Illya shook his head, knowing the frequency at which his partner dated; it was no wonder the man was always broke and borrowing money from him. This little treat was not going to absolve him of any debt he still owed. Illya made up his mind; he was not going to be talked into that sort of deal.

“Napoleon you never cease to amaze me.”

He chuckled in response. “Illya, sometimes I amaze myself.”

“So how will you explain this on your expense account? A penthouse hotel suite on a Sunday when you are not on assignment?”

“Don’t you worry your little blond head about it tovarisch, I’ll figure something out.”

“I am not worried at all,” Illya shrugged his indiffernce. “I am just hungry.”

They exited the elevator to their spacious suite, setting up breakfast out on the balcony.  The breeze seemed a little cooler being they were on 24th floor. Below they could see the green of the trees lining Riverside Drive. Napoleon threw his suitcase atop one of the two large beds with a sigh.

Room service delivered what they needed to complete their meal and afterwards the air conditioning soothed them into a relaxed state. Later, after a dip in the pool, they decided on room service for a late lunch and dinner as well.

“Napoleon I am going to hate going to work in the morning,” Illya sipped an ice tea while lounging in his chair, his feet resting on an ottoman.

“Me too. I was thinking about callilng out sick.”

“You would not! That is just wrong, no matter how hot it is.”

“Don’t worry I won’t,” Solo winked,” but it’s nice just thinking about it.

“Da…”

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chuckle...thank you! Glad the warm weather story worked for you.