"Hair today, gone tomorrow " ~ for the Short Affair

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Hair

-Prompt Colour – Crimson

Title: “Hair today, gone tomorrow.”

Author: mrua7

Word Count: Approx. 985

Illya Kuryakin, unlike his partner, was not vain man. Though in truth it he did have one secret vanity and that was his luxurious blond hair.

Its length had been challenged by many, including Alexander Waverly but Kuryakin refused to cut it shorter than what he preferred. Once he even paid a barber ‘not’ to cut his hair. That was something his partner found just plain silly.

Napoleon Solo woke up first, laying atop a cold stone slab. He was shivering, mostly because he was as naked as a jaybird.

He lifted his head, scanning his surroundings for his partner and spotted him curled up in a ball in the corner of their damp, and darkened cell. Illya was naked as well, and when Napoleon called his name; the Russian raised his head, squinting at him.

“Good Lord, what did they do to you?” Solo blurted out.

Illya was bruised but the most obvious thing about his appearance was that he was as bald as a cue ball. His head had been completely shaved and along his crown was a nasty looking crimson wound that had been crudely stitched.

Kuryakin carefully ran his hand across his head, gingerly touched the sutures, hissing as he did so.

“Well don’t you look...different,” Napoleon quipped at Illya’s new look.

“Please none of your ridiculous puns?”  He tried rubbing his arms with his hands to create a little friction to warm his skin.

“I ‘hair’ you there, Illya.”

“Before you say anything further...that you will regret; I would place your hand on your own head.”

“No...no way!” Solo blurted out. He reached up with his right hand, running it along his scalp and felt his hair. “You bastard, that wasn’t funny.”

Illya muttered another comment, “You had better check the other side of your head.”

Napoleon did so and felt nothing, literally. They’d shaved half his head, though unlike Kuryakin there was no wound to be stitched.

“I think that will be an interesting look for you,” Illya quipped. “It should elicit quite a bit of sympathy for you from the ladies.”

“Illya, I swear…”

“Hmm, not so funny when the shoe is on the other foot, is it...shhhush. Someone is coming.” Kuryakin immediately headed to one side of their cell door.

Solo, hearing the footsteps as well did the same, but to the opposite of the door.

Without saying a word they were ready to jump whoever it was. They listened carefully to the sound of keys and a click as the door unlocked.

Slowly it creaked open.

Napoleon and Illya charged, grabbing the person until they realized who it was when she opened her mouth in protest.

“Stop! It’s me darlings!” Angelique hissed.

Once released she took a moment  to ogle the naked UNCLE agents. She was quite familiar with Napoleon’s delicious body, but this was the first time she’d seen Illya sans clothing.

“Too skinny,” she mumbled, though thinking his ‘manhood’ was magnificent even in a flaccid state. Maybe the Russian had his uses after all?

“And that is something that will sway me from hitting you?” Illya grumbled. He had no problem with nudity but still covered his privates with his hands, trying to be the gentleman, or perhaps it was because of who it was doing the looking.

“My my, look at you Kuryakin, bald as a baby,” she snickered, but Napoleon’s appearance...well, it was all she could do to keep from laughing.

“Darling, you look rather ridiculous and hardly desirable. I have to say this is the one time your Russian here actually looks better than you.”

“Gee thanks.”

“Believe it or not, I’m here to help you two; be nice or I won’t rescue you.”

“There is nothing wrong with my body,” Illya growled.

“I suppose not. if you like bean poles but I prefer my men a bit more muscular. I must admit you are well endowed in another area enough to make up for... but that is a topic foranother time. Now let’s get going before the guards come.  Here, put these on.”

She tossed them green jumpsuits, boots and most importantly, black berets.

The agents quickly dressed themselves, and following Angelique; she led them to safety and an awaiting car parked down the street from the building in which they’d been held prisoner.

Napoleon pulled the woman to him before getting in the car, planting a kiss on her lips.

“Are you sure you won’t come with us?” He whispered while looking into her eyes.

“No darling, I have a few things to do that will assure someone else takes the blame for this. Doctor Décès will not be pleased, so I think he’ll find a new subject or two for his experiments after I’m done. À bientôt.” She gave a little wave and quickly disappeared around the corner.

Solo was barely in the passenger seat when Illya floored the gas pedal of the black sedan, taking off with the tires screeching through the streets of Paris.

Napoleon grabbed the rear view mirror, positioning it to take a good look at his head.

“Say Illya, when we’re far enough away, maybe we could stop a barbershop before returning to headquarters? There’s one in the Marais district,‘Marcel Maître Barbier.”

“And how will you pay for your haircut? As you recall we have nothing but the clothes we are wearing. Unless the barber is a woman, you will not get by on your charms this time.”

“Well maybe we can sneak back into headquarters though the garage. We could take care of my little problem and then get some hair pieces from…”

“Napoleon your vanity will be...”

“Don’t say it, I know,” he sighed. ”So losing your hair doesn’t bother you?”

“In truth it does, but it will grow back and until it does, there are always hats to be worn.”

“Very clever thought Mr. Kuryakin. Now home James and don’t spare the horses.”

“Who is James?”

“You know for a smart Russian you can be pretty dense at times. It’s just a saying Illya, there’s no James and the only horses are the horsepower in the engine.  Hmmm, I wonder where that saying came from? The old West I would imagine. What do you think?”

Kuryakin hid his smile. Of course he knew what had Napoleon meant, but playing dumb helped distract the man from the concerns about his hair, at least for now.

He would think of something else for later.