[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu
For all she was expecting it, Marian still jumped when the doorbell rang. This was it! After checking her hair in the mirror one last time, she opened the door to greet her date.

Outside, Illya Kuryakin attempted to adjust his bow tie. He was hindered somewhat by the large bouquet of lilacs he was carrying. There were probably far more than was necessary, but Illya knew that they were one of Marian’s favourites and, as it was her birthday, he had decided to spoil her.

As the door opened, Illya smiled at his date, who looked wonderfully elegant in her floor –length black dress. He offered her a little bow of greeting and handed her the flowers. Marian’s face flushed scarlet as she accepted the bouquet. She carefully laid the flowers on the table until she could get back to them later that evening. Illya proffered his elbow to her to walk her down the path, and upon reaching the car, he opened the door for her.

Outwardly, Marian appeared calm and content but, inside, her stomach was churning and her heart was thumping. Her heartbeat was so loud that she was surprised Illya couldn’t hear it. She still couldn’t believe she was going out to dinner with U.N.C.L.E.’s resident Russian. He was the prize most of the women craved, even over Napoleon, and she had actually won. She couldn’t help but smile as she remembered the looks on her colleagues’ faces.

Her smile disappeared when she heard the tell-tale beeping of Illya’s communicator. Even though it was his day off, she was fully aware that he was always on duty. Whenever an agent was called to a mission, they had to go; no matter what they were doing. Muttering an apology, Illya assembled the device.

“Kuryakin.”

“I need a favour, Tovarisch,” came the voice of Napoleon Solo, sounding unusually stressed. “I need your help with the training groups I’m putting together from the new graduates. I want each group to have someone with good explosives knowledge. You’ve assessed them all and know who is better than others.”

Illya bit back a sigh. “My assessments are in their files. Can’t you just read them?”

“I’d get a better idea from the horse’s mouth.”

“I’m on a date Napoleon,” the Russian hissed into his communicator.

“Would she take a rain check?”

“She probably would,” Illya told him. “But I’m not going to ask. She only has one birthday a year.”

“Oh my goodness!” Napoleon exclaimed. “The girls did mention that you were taking Marian out tonight. Forget I even called, and wish her a very happy birthday from me.”

Illya put the device away and turned to Marian.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she replied.


.

Date: 2016-09-30 07:20 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laurose8.livejournal.com
This is a nice little fic. Good Napoleon voice, and I love his last pararagraph.

Date: 2016-09-30 08:00 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
Gasp! Sometimes hastily written is the best. Thank you for this lovely birthday gift. Ahhhhh, a date with IK will be in my dreams thanks to you cuz! :D

Date: 2016-09-30 10:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
Hmmmm, and you know what kind of imagination I have, don't you? lol! "D

Date: 2016-09-30 10:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com
Great minds think alike, that's all I'm saying.:D

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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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