A Simple Gift - Short Affair - June 29th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts – Library/Crimson
Word Count (approx.) – 541

Napoleon didn’t have to look around the commissary for his partner, having already been told where Illya could be found, he knew he would be at their customary table. Sitting down and placing the parcel he had with him on the table, he asked his partner how he was.

“I am, as always, fine,” Illya answered. “How was London?”

“It was a breeze,” Solo told him. “Barely noticed you weren’t there?”

The truth of it was, because of Illya spraining his ankle in a staircase fall at the last minute, Solo had been forced to go on the mission with a rookie. There hadn’t been time to get a more seasoned agent, and as a result, Napoleon had come scarily close to losing his life. It wasn’t that Dean Gibson was inept, in fact he was shaping up to be an excellent agent, it was simply his inability to read Napoleon’s cues in the heat of the moment. Solo had indicated for Gibson to cut off a Thrushes escape route, but the signal had been misread, and the CEA had almost run headlong into a knife.

“You’ll be pleased to know that your two week backlog of paperwork is up to date,” said Illya as he stuffed a forkful of meatloaf into his mouth.

“It’s very handy having a partner with a high enough clearance to sign off on things for me,” Solo replied, with an infuriating grin.

Illya offered an obligatory eye roll before asking what Napoleon’s parcel was.

“Oh, it’s a gift for you,” the American enthused, as he handed the package to his partner.

“It isn’t my birthday for another three months.”

“It doesn’t need to be an occasion for one friend to give a gift to another,” Napoleon despaired of his partner sometimes. “I had some time to kill before my flight back, and I found myself in one of those rickety little bookstores. When I saw this, I had to get it. You’ve been saying you’d like to build up your own personal library.”

This was indeed true. As a lifelong bibliophile, Illya had always wanted to own a large collection of books. Unfortunately, the life he’d led had meant it had always remained a pipe dream. These days, despite rarely being home, Illya had a much more settled base, in the form of his little apartment. There wasn’t a lot of space, but he had dedicated one wall of his living room to a bookcase. It was only half full, but the collection was steadily growing.

“Go on then, Tovarisch,” Napoleon prompted. “Open it.”

With a smile, Illya tore the brown paper from the parcel. Hidden within was a beautiful leather bound copy of Fyodor Dostoevsky’s ‘The Brothers Karamazov’. The crimson leather was inlaid with a stunningly intricate gold pattern.

“Thank you, my friend. I want to say you shouldn’t have, but this is a favourite of mine, so I can’t. Besides, it more than makes up for me having to do your job for you.”

Napoleon’s sudden guffaw drew the attention of everyone in the room, but neither he nor Illya took any notice.

“You’re a funny man Kuryakin,” Napoleon joked.

Illya bowed his head in acknowledgement of what he deemed to be fact.