"Gym-antics" for the Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Toe

-Prompt Colour – Crimson

Author: mrua7

Title: “Gym-antics”

Word Count: Approximately 735

Stealth was Illya Kuryakin’s forté. He was a superior second story man and broke into where ever he had to without a problem. He could walk along the girders of a construction site with the balance of a cat or fly with the greatest of ease while swinging from a rope.

Yet when it came to women he sometimes found himself ill at ease. For that reason he became a master at dodging their attentions, (which he supposed was another skill) unlike his partner who deliberately jumped into the fray when it came to the fairer sex.

Not that the Russian didn’t like women, on the contrary he could be quite the romantic when it suited him, or the mood struck him. It depended upon the lady, as well as the time and the place. He was more discerning when it came to his assignations with women, again unlike Napoleon who was constantly on the prowl for female companionship. Illya’s prowling was generally limited to the pursuit of knowledge.

He’d had a number of bad and dangerous experiences in the past when it came to women and had made a decision to make a conscious effort at keeping them at bay for the most part.

At the moment he was he was working out on the parallel bars in the gymnasium at headquarters, doing his best to concentrate. He was a fair gymnast having once been second string for the Soviet Olympic team, but that was a long time ago.

Now there was a different focus and purpose to his working out. He needed to not only stay in shape, but to maintain his dexterity and flexibility as well.

While Napoleon was the planner and strategist, often contriving their next move by the seat of his pants while on assignment in some corner of the world; it was Illya who generally provided the muscle and moves in implementing said plan.

Kuryakin was preparing to finish up his routine when he noticed several of the ladies from the Communications division had gathered, watching him workout. Not that he would flirt like his partner but having several gorgeous women watching him triggered his male ego.

Like the male of any species there were times when they automatically displayed their prowess in front of females. Illya wasn’t immune to women, though at times he tried hard to be so, this however wasn’t one of those times.

He suddenly felt the urge to show off with some power moves and performed an L-Sit to a Straddle, then pressed to a handstand. He held it for a few seconds and for his dismount he dropped and swung into double-back other wise known as a  somersault.

He expected a perfect landing on the mat but instead of sticking it, as they called it in gymnastics parlance, Illya stubbed the big toe on his right foot. He steadied himself; his face turning crimson red as he tried to mask his pain and ignored his audience when they applauded him. The had obviously not seen his error, not that it mattered as it wasn’t a competition and they weren’t judges. Still he should have nailed his landing. He shouldn’t have let their presence distract him. Besides the pain there was the embarassment that he'd faltered.

Moving stiff-legged past the smiling ladies, and ignoring them; he went straight to the men’s locker room and once inside he let out a string of epithets in Russian as he hopped on his left  foot. He finally sat down on one of the wooden benches in front of the lockers and massaged his throbbing toe.

Solo, dressed in grey sweats, appeared out of nowhere holding a towel filled with ice cubes.

“Showing off again, tovarisch?”

What could Kuryakin say? He knew somehow his partner had been watching the whole routine.

“Thank you for the ice. My dismount was a bit rough and I must remember to adjust my grip next time.”

“And that bevy of beauties watching you had nothing to do with it, throwing you off your game, that is.” Solo cocked an eyebrow.

“What bevy of  beauties?” Illya looked directly at his partner with those soulful baby blues of his, not batting an eye.

Napoleon shook his head, unsure as to whether to believe Illya or not; still the Russian was possibly the best liar he ever knew...

Comments

[threecee.livejournal.com]

"What bevy of beauties?" Oh,classic Illya! Even Napoleon can't be sure if he's lying or not.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chuckle...thank you! Glad you liked it and appreciate your taking the time to comment. Thank you as well for the 'classic Illya' compliment. :D

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

This did happen, didn't it?

Mind you, I think they were a bit slow in not being the first to offer ice and sympathy.

I loved the “What bevy of beauties?”

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

I think the bevy of beauties had no idea Illya hurt his toe. He was trying to mask the pain and the embarrassment. Luckily Napoleon had his back, as usual.

Thanks you for the comment.

Hmmm, that "bevy of beauties'" line is being well received. :D

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Very good. Bevy of Beauties, lies and ice......

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow that 'bevy of beauties' line is getting a lot of mileage. Yay!

I like your summary of the story... makes it sound more tantalizing!

Thanks for reading and your comment!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Thank you for tonight's dreams :-D
Illya can be a terrible show-off sometimes. Not that I'm complaining, LOL.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

You're welcome and yes-he-can....mmmmmmm.:D

Thanks!

[thehappygirl53.livejournal.com]

A perfect little morsel, sketched with a light but deft hand. Felt very in character.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you for such a great comment. Glad you enjoyed the story.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Oh well... boys will be boys. That must have really hurt!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chuckle, yes it does hurt as this was based on personal experience, not on the parallel bars but on the balance beam. Not showing off, but did catch my toe on a dismount....Yikes.!

Thanks for the comment!