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section7mfu2016-01-26 01:30 pm
"A Snowy Day Surprise"~ For PicFic Tuesday 1/26
Napoleon Solo was usually a composed man, but given he’d let his partner convince him to take a walk in Central Park in the middle of a damned snowstorm, his patience was now wearing thin.
“Not much farther my friend,” Illya insisted. The Russian was wearing galoshes and dressed in a navy blue peacoat, knit cap with a grey knit scarf that was long enough to wrap around his throat and face several times.
Napoleon suspected it was a gift from one of the ladies in the secretarial pool...they were always doting on the skinny Soviet. If he wouldn’t date them, then they were most certainly going to mother him. They darned his socks for him and brought delicious dinners in and and pies for him. One of the girls even pushed the enveloped by massaging his shoulders one day.
There was a method to their madness, with everything being done to try to get Illya to ask them out; that was trying to get the pope to give up his papacy...or maybe it was more like a method to his madness? He was after all, a smart Russian?
Napoleon was smartly dressed as always, wearing a black lined trench coat and a fedora; the silk scarf wrapped around his neck hardly seemed adequate, but at least unlike his partner, he was wearing a warm pair of gloves. He hadn’t bothered with boots as taking a taxi to work this morning before it had really begun to snow made them unnecessary, and besides they looked terrible with his suit. Little did he know he'd be traipsing around in the snow at lunch time. Lesson learned; and UNCLE agent should be prepared for any contingency.
Though this was of Illya's doing and not the Command. His partner rarely asked him to do things so he felt obligated to oblige the man; Napoleon just wished he knew what Kuryakin was on about.
“Illya please, I don’t have on any galoshes and my feet are freezing. What’s so important that you had to drag me out in this? And what’s in that shopping bag you’re carrying?”
“All questions will be answered shortly,” Illya cryptically replied.
Suddenly a dog appeared out of nowhere, charging at the two men but specifically towards Kuryakin.
“Chyort!” Illya yelped, staggering backwards a few steps. He dropped the bag, holding out his hands as if they could keep the canine at bay and slowly reached inside his coat for his weapon.
The dog stood there, wagging its tail with its tongue lolling. It finally let out a bark followed by a whine. It was a mutt, and resembled the dog Tramp from the cartoon, 'Lady and the Tramp.'
“Illya I think it’s friendly,” Napoleon walked over to the dog, offering it his hand to give it a sniff.
“I do not care, dogs are...not trustworthy.”
“Look, just because you’ve had a few bad experiences with dogs doesn’t mean they’re all ready to attack you.”
"Okay, nice doggy. Don't bite." Napoleon crouched by the dog, petting it on the head.
It whined, loving every bit of attention it was being given.
“Then you be friendly with it. I am fine with keeping my distance Napoleon. Can we please go now?"
The American shrugged his shoulders as he stood.
“Sorry pup, gotta go,” he said.
The two men continued walking, though the dog was following them at a discreet distance.
“See what you have done,” Illya hissed. “Now it will not go away.”
“Just ignore him tovarisch.”
The two men's hats and shoulders were dusted with snow as they finally reached their destination.
“Wollman Rink? Really Illya an ice skating rink?”
“Yes, this is an ideal time for some skating as there is no one here.” He pulled two pairs of ice skates from the bag.
“You are going to join me, yes?”
“I am not...oh all right.” Napoleon quickly changed his mind when he saw the disappointment in his partner’s eyes." I haven't done this in a really really long time, as in since I was a teenager."
"You will be fine. Trust me," Illya reassured him.
They sat on a bench, removing their shoes and putting on the skates. Napoleon wasn’t surprised at the correct fit, as Illya knew his shoe size.
They put their shoes in the bag for safekeeping, leaving it on the bench.
The Russian went immediately to the ice as it had just been swept by the small Zamboni used by the park for such things. He circled, built up speed, turned and leapt into the air, performing a Salchow jump, immediately followed by a toe loop.
“Show off!” Napoleon called out as he gingerly stepped onto the ice. He wasn’t lying to him about how long it had been.
Illya continued skating, leaping into a split, landing gracefully and finally skating backwards to meet up with his partner.
“I too am a little rusty,” he chuckled, looking at Solo attempting to move.
“Napoleon you need to take longer strides than that. Come let me help you.” Illya grabbed him by the arm and little by little Solo fell into step, matching Kuryakin’s movements.
“No jumps now, right tovarisch?”
“Not to worry my friend, just skate. It will do your heart and your spirit good. Pretend you are a child again.”
“You skated like this when you were a kid Illya?”
“No,” he chuckled. “I trained with several top Soviet skaters as I had GRU assignment to infiltrate…” Illya suddenly stopped himself. “I have said too much. I was sworn not to discuss any military intelligence assignments with which I was involved before coming to UNCLE. You understand; national security.”
“No problem tovarisch, I get it, and I think I’ve got it now. You can let go.”
Illya did so and watched with satisfaction as his partner moved gracefully along the ice, his hands now clasped behind his back as he moved gracefully along the ice.
Napoleon smiled as he realized the Russian was right; it was doing his heart and his soul good. The views of the New York skyline to the east, south and west, even though it was snowing, were breathtaking. He felt wonderfully free and brought back some good memories of when he was younger, going skating with his brother and their friends.
Suddenly music was wafting in the distance as someone set a transistor radio on the wall, it must have been tuned to a classical station as The Blue Danube Waltz by Strauss was playing. That person put on a pair of skates as well, staying to the other end of the rink.
It was large enough that none of the skaters interfered with each other, as eventually the three of them fell in time with the music.
Finally it was time to stop, and the agents skated back towards the bench.
“Illya? Where’s the bag with our shoes?”
Kuryakin’s eyes darted, looking about to see if they’d left the bag on a different bench.
“Oh you-have-got-to-be-kidding!” Solo growled as he listened to his partner utter some ripe curses in Russian under his breath.
“Look,”Illya pointed to the snow around the bench.”Paw prints. That dog took it! I told you it was a mistake petting that beast!”
They kept on their skates, following the prints in the snow until they came upon the dog lying under a bush happily chewing away on something.
“Illya I swear if he’s eating my shoes I’ll never forgive you.”
“Wait a minute, it was you who befriended it. I wanted nothing to do with it. However I think your shoes and mine are safe.” Kuryakin held up what was left of the bag with both pair of shoes, and Illya's galoshes intact.
“What’s it eating then?” Napoleon bent over, peering at the dog.
“It must be the two pastrami sandwiches I picked up at the deli for us.”
“Really, you brought lunch? Wow, well the poor dog must have been hungry. No wonder it was following us.”
“Yes I am sure he is enjoying our sandwiches. Now may we go before he decides to eat something else?”
Kuryakin tiptoed on his skates to a nearby bench, dusted off the snow and proceeded to remove his skates and put on his shoes and boots.
Napoleon followed suit, but kept looking over at the dog.
“Give me the laces from your skates,” he suddenly asked.
“What are you planning?”
“Nevermind, just do it please.”
Solo fashioned a loop and braided their laces together making a leash of sorts. He went over to the dog, who’d finished eating and slipped the loop over its head without a bit of resistance.
“Come on boy, come on?” The dog obeyed instantly and followed Solo’s lead, with its tail wagging.
“Napoleon please do not?”
“Illya just walk ahead of me. You’ll be fine. Let’s get back to headquarters.”
Needless to say the pooch was an instant hit and though the secretaries fell in love with him, Tom Lopaka, the head of Security after trying to find the owner, ended up adopting him.
The dog was named Wollman, issued a security badge and after a bit of training, he became the official mascot of Headquarters. This was with the blessing of Mr. Waverly of course, who had a fondness for dogs, as well as cats.
Regardless of the Wollman's new status; Illya decided he would still avoid him anyway.
Old habits died hard...
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Everyone seems to like Wollman, so I'm planning to have him in some future stories.
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