"The Something's Rotten in Block Island Affair- Chapter 6 (part 1) for PicFic Tuesday

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5


The Prompt:

The next morning the phone rang but Illya was already awake. Madeleine was lying in bed beside him, cuddled up to his side.

“Hello?” He quickly picked up the receiver and answered.

“Good morning sir, this is your 7 o'clock wake up call.”

“Umm, thank you.” Illya hung up, not remembering he'd ordered such a call.

He looked to his bedmate as her eyes opened and she lazily stretched. They'd spent a good part of the night engaged in passionate love making but had finally fallen to sleep when they were completely sated. Both were tired but it was a good sort of tired.

“That was a wake up call your friend Mr. Solo ordered and my cue to go,” she whispered.” She climbed out of bed, grabbing her clothing and started to dress. Illya slipped into his pajama bottoms and saw her to the door.

As she stepped into the hall, he pulled her back towards himself one last time and kissed her. “Thank you for a lovely night,” he whispered.

“Same to you,” she whispered too, before hurrying down the hallway.

Napoleon had opened his door, planning to go check on Mark and Kitt when he witnessed the scene between his partner and the cute desk clerk from last night.

“You sly devil,” he whispered; waiting until Illya had closed his door.

In truth he felt a twinge of jealousy; for some reason it always bugged him just a little when Illya ‘got the girl’.
It wasn’t often that Napoleon lost out to his partner especially since Illya didn’t sleep around, that was the truth of the matter. He suddenly felt guilty for begrudging the man a rare moment of enjoyment.

Napoleon told himself to just get over it. After all, Illya was his best friend.

A half hour later, the four agents were showered and ready to start their day. They met up in the hall and headed down to the dining room for their breakfast. Slate and Kittridge were both quiet and looks a little bit under the weather.

“Hangovers gentleman?”Solo asked as they were seated.

Mark and Kitt looked at him like he had two heads.

“I’m an Aussie and he’s a Brit; we blokes know how to drink and don’t get hung over,” Kitt answered defensively.

“Speak for yourself mate, “Mark rubbed his temples with his fingers. “You were completely arseholed last night and so was I.”

“Maybe a bit of the hair of the dog then?” Kitt winked.

“No thank you,” Mark mumbled.

The waitress arrived and poured their coffees.

“Tea please?” Illya asked, covering his cup with his hand.”And raspberry jam as well.” The waitress smiled as she was familiar with Maddy taking her tea that way.

“So tovarisch, how did you sleep last night?” Napoleon asked, not letting on what he knew.

“I slept like a baby. I must say this hotel is exceptional with its service.”

“Really?” Napoleon said. “No...umm, nightmares?” That he leaned over and whispered.

“No Bloody Mary’s gentlemen?” The waitress asked. She saw the red eyes of Slate and Kittridge and made an educated guess.

“On second thought I’ll have one, extra horseradish, ” Kitt asked.

“Make mine a double,” Slate added.”And could I have a couple of aspirins with that luv?”

“Sure,” she smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. Anyone else need aspirin?”

Kitt sheepishly raised his hand.

“Yes, really and nothing else,” Illya finally answered Napoleon’s ‘Really?’  Illya was prone to nightmares at times, memories of his childhood, though he refused to speak about the details to his partner. He didn’t have the dreams all the time, but enough for Napoleon to be aware of them.

The Russian got up from the table after the waitress had taken their beverage orders and headed to the sumptuous buffet table, followed by the others.

Mark was setting up his plate, making a few comments about the quality of the food being offered.

“Cor, will you look at that? Beans on toast. Now that’s something I’ve only seen back home in Great Britain.”

Napoleon chuckled. “It’s also popular in New England. You’ve heard of Boston baked beads haven’t you?”

“Sure guv, but I never heard the likes of it here. Mind you, it’s fine by me.”

Illya was now behind Slate in line as Mark had moved on. He was piling on the scrambled eggs, bacon, a couple of sausage links as wells as a slice of ham from the carving station. In his other hand was a plate full of home fries and cantaloupe slices.

Napoleon was right behind him. “You know you can come back for seconds; it is a buffet.”

“I know and I plan to do that when I have finished this.”

“So going to fess up about last night tovarisch?” Napoleon leaned in, again whispering to him.

“What about it?” Illya eyed him suspiciously.

“You had some nocturnal maneuvers from what I saw this morning.”

Kuryakin turned, wide-eyed. “And what exactly did you see?”

His face looked childlike and anyone else would have sworn he was as innocent and pure as new fallen snow, but not to Napoleon; he knew better.

“You and Miss Blonde Desk Clerk; she was leaving your room this morning and the two of you were in a pretty serious lip lock.”

“And what of it?” Illya’s voice was calm and collected.

“Ugh, yes well. I just thought I’d mention it.”

“Napoleon you are my best friend, but what I say to you now is with the best of intentions that I can muster. What I do or do not do when it comes to women is none of your fucking business. So the discussion of what happened between me and Madeleine is now at an end. As you like to say in Italian...capisce?

“Sì. Capisco, and duly noted.” Napoleon took his partner’s chastisement in stride. Illya was a private person when it came to his periodic liaisons. In fact it was rare that Illya slept with a woman on the spur of the moment, as far as Solo knew.

Napoleon was used to being cock of the walk when it came to women. That was his style not the Russian’s.

Once all four men were settled at their table with their breakfast, Illya filled in Mark and Kitt on the results from the lab. There were few guests in the dining room so the agents were free to discuss the situation, as long as they did so with hushed voices.

“Something is definitely afoot,” he concluded.” Now for what reason; that is the next thing to be discovered along with who is responsible.”

“Shouldn’t we contact Mr. Waverly?” Mark asked.

“For the moment, no,” Napoleon said.”It’s my call. For now let’s see where this whole thing is going. We can read Waverly in once we’ve found out a little more.”

“What’s the gameplan?” Kitt asked.

“We’re waiting for another report on the sale of the chemicals involved. Hopefully we’ll get names and we can take it from there.”

“At least the local constabulary had the forethought to close the beaches,” Mark said. “Still even if they hadn’t I doubt anyone would want to go swimming with the fishes.”

“Very funny Mark,”Napoleon smiled.

“What? I wasn’t joking.”

Illya leaned towards him, lowering his voice.

”It is an American idiom. If someone is swimming with the fishes, they are dead, especially if they have been murdered. 'Sleeping with the fishes' is an alternative form.”

“Finally getting what an idiom is tovarisch?” Napoleon snickered.

“I know what they are by definition, yet some of the ones you come up with are still somewhat confusing to me.”

“Right and I’m the son of the Pope Illya.”

“See now that makes no sense to me as I know your father is Darius Solo...and there is no Pope Illya.” This time the Russian was indeed yanking Solo’s chain.

“Kuryakin, sometimes you are an insufferable pain in my rear end.”

“Why thank you Napoleon. I take that as a compliment.

They finished their breakfast and all of them, except Illya, headed back upstairs to their rooms.

He chose to wander to the desk as Madeleine was now there, looking refreshed and pretty as ever in a pale pink dress.

“Good Morning Mr. Kuryakin,” she smiled. “Did you sleep well, and how was breakfast this morning? “

“My evening was glorious as was the food, thank you. Might I entice you to have a cup of tea with me in the dining room?”

“I think so, my cousin Melinda here can hold down the fort for a few minutes, can’t you Melin?”

Her cousin from Staten Island was a pretty dark haired girl, sitting behind the desk while snapping her chewing gum.

“Yeah shew-ah Maddy. It’s not like people are breakin’ down the doors to get in.”

“Thanks, I won’t be long.”

Continue to part 2