SOS - PicFic Tuesday, 3/8/16

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Nose buried in a book, Illya rapped out his personal signal on Napoleon’s door. Two pages later when there was still no answer, his brow furrowed. The door opened just as he raised his hand to knock again. Napoleon stood in his shirtsleeves, tie loosened, a fringe of dark hair falling across his forehead.

Illya looked him over and closed the book with a snap. “Apparently you’ve double-booked your evening…again.” He held out the slim volume. “Here. I was going to ask to borrow the other one, but I wouldn’t want you to keep your guest waiting.”

Napoleon regarded him open-mouthed, his hazel eyes confused, then grimaced. “I’m not entertaining,” he said, pulling Illya inside. “I’ve been dealing with a bit of a situation in the kitchen.”



“What sort of situation?” Illya followed him through the apartment, speculating on a similarly disheveled lady sneaking out the back door. None of the trappings of a romantic evening were visible, however.

“My refrigerator died,” Napoleon said. “And, before you ask, no, I don’t know how long ago. Enough for the milk to look suspect.” He pointed to the line of cartons and containers on his counter awaiting disposal. “I haven’t tackled the freezer yet.”

Illya put the book on the table. “It may have maintained temperature, if you’re lucky.” He opened the door quickly and pulled out the first thing to meet his hand. The can of orange juice concentrate was cold to the touch but sloshed a bit when he shook it. “Whatever’s in there is salvageable, but it will need to be cooked tonight. We can forgo the restaurant and have a smorgasbord here.”

Napoleon started to object, but Illya had already swung the freezer door wide. He stared for several seconds at the neat row of a dozen red boxes, each marked Swanson’s Creamed Chipped Beef. Napoleon twisted his lips and waited for the inevitable comment.

Illya closed the door. “On second thought, I'm not that hungry.”

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. It’s not yak liver oil.”

“I may have a change of heart about that.” He opened the freezer and looked again, but the contents hadn’t changed. “One would think it enough that the commissary serves this twice monthly.” He turned to Napoleon, who avoided his gaze. “Oh, that's your doing. Do you realize that the lowest morale days at headquarters correspond to the instances of creamed chipped beef on the menu?”

“You’re making that up.”

Illya closed the door firmly and leaned against it for good measure. “Call it a scientific observation.”

Napoleon sat down at the table and rested his chin in his hand. Sensing the shift in mood, Illya took the chair across from him and waited.

“It shouldn’t really be good for my morale either. There are certainly better tasting dishes.” Napoleon stared unseeing at the defunct refrigerator. “I hadn’t been in Korea long. Colonel Morgan said they were running out of ammunition at the front, and he asked for volunteers to take as much as they could carry. I said I’d go. So did this buck private named Baker. We were under heavy fire the whole time. Baker swore it was uphill both ways. Yet somehow we made it back.” He pulled his gaze from the distant battlefield and looked at Illya. “The mess sergeant made creamed chipped beef that night. Even now, when I eat it, I can taste a little of what I felt after that mission: young, victorious, indestructible.”

Illya sighed. “All right, I’ll eat a box. But the best I can promise to feel is indigestion.”

“That takes care of two,” Napoleon said. “Seems a pity to waste the rest.”

“An impromptu dinner party? A few other agents are between assignments. There’s orange juice, and the liquor store will deliver champagne. With enough mimosas, they might not care what they're eating.”

Napoleon passed his hand over his face. “That may be the worst idea I've ever heard.”

“Do you have a better one?”

“I think I do.” He stood and crossed to the phone. “Oregon 35284,” he said when the operator responded. His tone changed as his party came on the line. “Priscilla? Napoleon Solo.”

“The mission doll?” Illya asked.

Napoleon shot him a perplexed glance and held up a finger. “Quiet, please.”

Illya rolled his eyes and reached for the book. The easy familiarity of Napoleon’s conversation indicated this was not the first time he had spoken with Priscilla since Christmas.

Eventually Napoleon got to the point of the call. “I’d like to provide dinner at the mission tonight, if it’s not too short notice. It isn't? Wonderful. Illya and I will meet you there.” He hung up the phone with a satisfied smile.

“So we are off to see your prayin’ tomato,” Illya said in his best Brooklyn accent, not lifting his eyes from the page.

Napoleon frowned and took the book from under Illya’s nose. “Guys and Dolls. OK, that’s enough Damon Runyon for you.” He headed out of the kitchen, the book tucked securely under his arm. “I’ll get the cooler.”

“You like her,” Illya called after him.

“I do,” Napoleon agreed, returning with a red aluminum chest. “I enjoy her conversation and her coffee. But there’s no next step beyond that. She’s pledged her life to an organization, just as I have.”

“Amazing how often it works out that way for you. Very convenient.”

Napoleon winked at him. “At least this one won’t try to kill me.”

Illya watched him load the cooler with creamed chipped beef. “No, I believe Mr. Swanson may get that honor.”

Comments

[threecee.livejournal.com]

Very rational explaination for Napoleon to like creamed chipped beef (although a whole freezer full?) and clever tie-in to events from the show.  Good dialogue too. Well done!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is a very clever take on the prompt, and somehow very believable that Napoleon would crave such a moment in time. Now, about that prayin' tomato... ;)

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thank you. This is a strong fic, excellently both amusing and moving.

Nice extras from Illya altogether: two pages later, intuitive statistics, Damon Runyon...And the MASH reference is good, too.

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Thank you. Maybe it was double coupon day. :D

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I was watching Guys and Dolls recently, and it brought the Jingle Bells Affair to mind. That epidode gets panned a lot, but I've always liked it.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Very good, and a unique solution to the creamed chipped beef problem. A whole freezer full? Can't imagine liking something that much.

Guys and Doll? I know what you mean about a watching a movie influencing your imagination. Well done!

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Thanks! Better late than never. I figured If it's his go-to comfort food, he'd keep a stockpile for all those late night returns from missions. And it was funny. :D

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Too cute! No wonder Napoleon likes SOS. "Better than cod liver oil." I agree, but not much. LOL!

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I hoped it would be both, but it can be hard to know if the balance is right.

[ssclassof56.livejournal.com]

Thanks. My dad always liked it after his army days, though my mom categorically refused to cook it. It seems to be a love-it-or-hate-it thing. :)

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Actually like it myself, but I think a freezer is just a little much