The Start of the Evening - Pic Fic, 18th August

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Deep in concentration, Illya adjusted the flames on the micro-acetylene torch to exactly the right temperature and bent over the bench. He had to get precisely the right angle, or else he would have wasted a day's work.

“Making crème brulee?” Napoleon asked brightly from directly behind him.

It was only long exposure to his partner that kept his hands steady and his tone even. But then, it was only long exposure to his partner that kept him from strangling the man. “Hardly. I think I should put a bell on you.”

“I'm not sure that would be an advantage in the field,” Napoleon said contemplatively.

“Perhaps just for around headquarters,” Illya conceded, carefully turning the torch off and removing his goggles before turning around. “It would prevent you from distracting me into triggering a nuclear reaction that would level headquarters and the surrounding buildings.”

To his disappointment, Napoleon's expression didn't so much as flicker. “Nice try, but I know you well enough to know that if you were playing around with that stuff you'd be doing it in Isolation Lab X, and that you'd be taking more precautions than just a set of goggles.

True. But still he raised an eyebrow. “Playing around....?” he repeated dangerously.

Napoleon ignored him. “Besides, I remember that stuff from the lab in Reno last week. I thought THRUSH wrote those experiments off as useless?”

“Because they could not figure out a way to make it kill people,” Illya said dismissively. “However, the non-conductive nature of the substance along with its unique reaction to the application of sudden and intense heat presents a number of interesting possibilities, both in terms of theory and practical applications.” He spoke eagerly. “I am not certain whether we would have any use for it, but perhaps a wider...” He trailed off abruptly.

Napoleon was listening to him politely, a faint smile on his face. It was unnerving.

He frowned. “Did you come down here with the express intent of annoying me, or was there some other reason?”

“It's past six o'clock,” Napoleon said. “I thought you might like to join me for dinner. My treat.”

Hmmm. Illya's eyes flicked to the calendar on the wall. It was still the 19th. “What have you done?” he demanded suspiciously.

“Done?” Napoleon blinked, and if the confusion was an act it was a good one.

Of course, Napoleon was good at acts. He ran through the likely possibilities. “Have you knocked over something you shouldn't have? Spilled coffee on my paperwork? Touched one of my experiments? Annoyed Mr Waverly to the extent that he has decided to punish the pair of us?” His eyes narrowed. “If you have been encouraging the cat to go after the fish again, you will need more than dinner to make up for it.”

“It's your cat and your fish,” Napoleon told him. “And cats are meant to be hunters anyway.”

“Napoleon...” he warned darkly.

“As far as I know both cat and fish are fine,” Napoleon assured him. “Now, what exactly have I done to earn this suspicion?”

Illya took a deep breath, ready to recite a list.

Hurriedly, Napoleon held up his hands, forestalling him. “All I did was invite you to dinner. You don't honestly think I'd only do that out of guilt, do you?”

The note of hidden insecurity in his voice was masterful. Illya didn't believe it for a second. “You are the very soul of generosity,” he assured him dryly. “For the first week of the month, when you see your pay cheque and are put under the misapprehension that it makes you rich.” It was true; Napoleon was as inclined to lavish his money on his friends as his dates, when he had it. “But today is the 19th, and by this stage you are normally counting your pocket change fretfully and considering at what point it is tactful to ask me for a loan. Generally around the 22nd if you are interested.”

Napoleon stared. “I had no idea you had my budget under such close examination, tovarisch.”

“Budget?” Illya snorted. “You do not know the meaning of the word. How you managed to get through university without starving to death I cannot imagine.”

“My trust fund, Aunt Amy and, from time to time, the kindness of strangers,” Napoleon grinned. “Alright, but whatever you think, I do still have money in my pocket, I have a hankering for Chinese food, and you've been in this building so long you'll probably crumble into dust at the touch of natural light, so are you coming or not?”

He didn't really bother thinking about it; he had been in the lab for a few more hours than was advisable. “Fine. The Jade Inn?”

“No, Johnstone told me about a new place in Chinatown we should try, “Napoleon answered, with just a touch of hesitation.

*

The new place was sandwiched between a drug store and a cramped little bookshop – Wong Fook Hing bookshop, to be exact. Which Napoleon was looking at with an expression of rueful satisfaction. “Johnstone was telling the truth. Damn, that's five dollars I owe him.”

“Really, Napoleon?” Illya said with a sigh. “You brought me out here in order to verify a rather crude pun?”

“I think it's only a pun if it's done deliberately,” Napoleon said.”And no, I brought you out here for the food, and because whenever you order in Chinese we get a different menu. The bet was simply a fortunate coincidence.”

“I knew it, you only want me for my linguistic skills,” he said dryly.

“Oh, by the way,” Napoleon said casually, despite the smirk sparkling around his eyes. “You couldn't lend me five dollars to pay Johnstone, could you?”

“Certainly,” Illya said calmly, and now it was Napoleon's turn to look at him sceptically, but he paid no attention and walked towards the restaurant. He paused in the doorway just long enough to look back at the bookshop and say “You know, Napoleon, I'm surprised you would find that sort of joke amusing, considering.”

“Wait.” Napoleon called suspiciously. “Considering? Considering what?”

Illya flashed him the briefest of smiles. “Considering what your own name means in Ukranian, of course,” he said serenely, and as he walked into the restaurant, he let the smile dawn, if only to himself. That should keep Napoleon stewing for a few days at least.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Well done! You have them spot on and their banter fine tuned to perfection. I really enjoyed this!

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for sharing this between afairs scene, with very good dialogue all through. I love Illya's timing of Napoleon's non-budget, and Napoleon about Illya crumbling at the touch of natural light.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

You truly do have their banter down to a T. I loved it :-)

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Glad you liked it. After the angst of the weekend, I was in the mood to write something light and silly....it won't last!

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks, glad you like that bit. I reckon he probably approached the timing of the budget with the methodical approach of a scientist.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much - it was fun to write this one.

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Oh meany, but love how he gets back at Napoleon.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Ha, the last word belongs to the Russian. Lightning quick banter and a fun time all around.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thanks for commenting. Yeah, that's going to have Napoleon wondering until he can find another Ukranian speaker.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Thank you, I'm glad you liked it.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

That's Illya for you. Always looking for Napoleon's ulterior motive.
Perfect banter with this one and I loved it.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

To be fair, he's generally right to be looking for the ulterior motive. Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it.