The Showman - Picfic Tuesday - Oct 6th
Oct. 6th, 2015 10:21 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuI've played very fast and loose with the prompt. Also, I really apologise for the fact there isn't a plot :-D
...............................................................
For the third time in a week, Napoleon walked into the commissary and found it almost devoid of any female staff. The first couple of times, he’d put it down to the gloriously warm and sunny weather. He’d recently learned that many of the secretaries liked to eat lunch in a nearby public garden*. Today though, the rain was torrential, so he’d expected the commissary to be fuller.
Napoleon grabbed himself some lunch, a salad which looked at least two days old, and sat down at his usual corner table. Someone else, who was conspicuous by his absence, was Illya. He never knowing missed a meal, especially when working within HQ. Solo also knew, however, that the Russian could lose himself for hours if he managed to get into the labs.
“Alright Mate!”
Napoleon looked up from his salad into the smiling face of Mark Slate, and gestured for him to sit down.
“What’s that?” the Brit queried, pointing at Napoleon’s plate.
“If I was to hazard a guess, I would say it was the very latest in THRUSH persuasion techniques,” Solo replied, as he prodded at a piece of soggy lettuce. “Solve a problem for me Mark.”
“If I can.”
“Where are all the women?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Slate asked with incredulity. “They’re all in the same place my partner is right now.”
“And just where is that?”
Mark grinned. “I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Napoleon followed Slate down to the large gymnasium, which was buried in the bowels of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. Agents needed to keep themselves at the peak of fitness, though it was available for use by any member of staff. Entering the Gym, Napoleon found himself almost walking into the back of a phalanx of women. Carefully pushing his way through, he finally discovered the reason they’d been missing from the commissary, and also the whereabouts of his partner.
Napoleon couldn’t deny that watching Illya Kuryakin perform on the balance beam was a lesson in agility. His movements and balance were almost cat-like as he leapt around on the beam. Dressed in black gym shorts, and a grey t-shirt, he was like catnip to the women of U.N.C.L.E. Many of them purported to be modern, emancipated women, who didn’t need a man to define. Yet, put a lithe, pretty, blond Russian in front of them and they all became slaves to their natural urges. Of course, they would only say they were behaving the same way as men around beautiful women.
“How long has this been going on?” Napoleon asked Mark.
The CEA was fully aware that Illya often trained in the Gym, but he was quite surprised to find an audience. Then again, for all he argued otherwise, Kuryakin was quite the show-off when given half a chance. He also knew exactly what feelings he stirred in those who were attracted to him, and wasn’t above playing on it.
“This quite often happens when Illya spends a few days at HQ,” Mark explained. “As soon as they all get wind of it, his training becomes a spectator sport. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“How come you do?”
The Brit pointed over to where April was sitting. It was clear from her body language and facial expression that she was very much enjoying the show. As Illya dismounted, and offered them a small bow, she was instantly on her feet, applauding along with the other women.
“It isn’t fair, Mark,” Napoleon complained as he headed back towards his office. “I have to put some serious effort into courting the ladies. He just had to bounce around in his shorts.”
*Suspicious Russian
...............................................................
For the third time in a week, Napoleon walked into the commissary and found it almost devoid of any female staff. The first couple of times, he’d put it down to the gloriously warm and sunny weather. He’d recently learned that many of the secretaries liked to eat lunch in a nearby public garden*. Today though, the rain was torrential, so he’d expected the commissary to be fuller.
Napoleon grabbed himself some lunch, a salad which looked at least two days old, and sat down at his usual corner table. Someone else, who was conspicuous by his absence, was Illya. He never knowing missed a meal, especially when working within HQ. Solo also knew, however, that the Russian could lose himself for hours if he managed to get into the labs.
“Alright Mate!”
Napoleon looked up from his salad into the smiling face of Mark Slate, and gestured for him to sit down.
“What’s that?” the Brit queried, pointing at Napoleon’s plate.
“If I was to hazard a guess, I would say it was the very latest in THRUSH persuasion techniques,” Solo replied, as he prodded at a piece of soggy lettuce. “Solve a problem for me Mark.”
“If I can.”
“Where are all the women?”
“You mean you don’t know?” Slate asked with incredulity. “They’re all in the same place my partner is right now.”
“And just where is that?”
Mark grinned. “I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”
……………………………………………………………………………………………..
Napoleon followed Slate down to the large gymnasium, which was buried in the bowels of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. Agents needed to keep themselves at the peak of fitness, though it was available for use by any member of staff. Entering the Gym, Napoleon found himself almost walking into the back of a phalanx of women. Carefully pushing his way through, he finally discovered the reason they’d been missing from the commissary, and also the whereabouts of his partner.
Napoleon couldn’t deny that watching Illya Kuryakin perform on the balance beam was a lesson in agility. His movements and balance were almost cat-like as he leapt around on the beam. Dressed in black gym shorts, and a grey t-shirt, he was like catnip to the women of U.N.C.L.E. Many of them purported to be modern, emancipated women, who didn’t need a man to define. Yet, put a lithe, pretty, blond Russian in front of them and they all became slaves to their natural urges. Of course, they would only say they were behaving the same way as men around beautiful women.
“How long has this been going on?” Napoleon asked Mark.
The CEA was fully aware that Illya often trained in the Gym, but he was quite surprised to find an audience. Then again, for all he argued otherwise, Kuryakin was quite the show-off when given half a chance. He also knew exactly what feelings he stirred in those who were attracted to him, and wasn’t above playing on it.
“This quite often happens when Illya spends a few days at HQ,” Mark explained. “As soon as they all get wind of it, his training becomes a spectator sport. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“How come you do?”
The Brit pointed over to where April was sitting. It was clear from her body language and facial expression that she was very much enjoying the show. As Illya dismounted, and offered them a small bow, she was instantly on her feet, applauding along with the other women.
“It isn’t fair, Mark,” Napoleon complained as he headed back towards his office. “I have to put some serious effort into courting the ladies. He just had to bounce around in his shorts.”
*Suspicious Russian
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no subject
Date: 2015-10-06 10:12 pm (UTC)Well done cuz!
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Date: 2015-10-06 10:22 pm (UTC)None of us can deny that he is definitely like catnip to us :-D
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Date: 2015-10-07 12:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-07 08:04 am (UTC)I know, given the chance, I would be down in the gym too :-D
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Date: 2015-10-07 03:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-07 09:18 pm (UTC)My mind seemed to go off on an odd tangent with this prompt.
no subject
Date: 2015-10-07 08:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-10-07 09:19 pm (UTC)This just shows you how my mind works. I see a cat, write a story about a load of woman watching Illya, lol.