The best laid plans of mice and Illya Kuryakin," for the Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #1 - Easy

-Prompt Colour – Brown

Author: mrua7

Title: ‘The best laid plans of mice and Illya Kuryakin’

Word Count: Approx. 1000

Illya Kuryakin was relaxing in his apartment. It was a day off  and his plan was an easy one and that was to catch up on his reading, listen to his favorite record albums, and eati, not necessarily in that order. In his mind this would be a near perfect day, that could only be more perfect if he could do all of this outside in a park as it was Spring.

The weather was lovely, not too hot, not too chilly and the sun was shining down on the daffodils and crocuses that added color to what had been a drab winter landscape.

His day began with food.

Illya was a pro at survival cooking, but indoors he wasn’t very creative. Still he could now manage basics like pan frying a steak, though he basically seared it, keeping it very rare and a bit bloody. Napoleon thought it disgusting; he preferred to brown his steak until it was well done.

The Russian could accompany his steak with baked potatoes, and boiled vegetables. Spaghetti was easy enough; he bought canned sauce but would doctor it up to his taste with added spices. Garlic bread was simple enough.

Today for breakfast,  he’d made bacon and scrambled eggs with toast and tea.  The morning went by quickly as he read the newspaper. Now it was lunch time and he’d bought sliced ham and swiss at the local deli, along with black caraway seed Russian rye bread and with those ingredients he made two grilled sandwiches in his frying pan. Accompanying said sandwiches woutl be aome crisps, but here in America they were called potato chips. He decided to open a can of Campbell's Tomato soup and make that a warm addtion to the menu. Another glass of tea would finish things off nicely.

Illya set his lunch down at his dining table and was now segueing from the newaspaper to the book he’s been reading… Le Carre’s ‘The Spy who came in from the cold’. He wanted to see if the man got things right when writing about the spy business as compared to Fleming’s books which Kuryakin felt were a little far fetched. Still, Napoleon could be compared to Bond for having his way with the ladies, but Solo was not cold hearted with them like the fictitious MI6 agent. The real James Bond was much different and a more of a thinker and not quite the user of women that the books made him out to be.

He propped Le Carre's book up against a short stack of books that was his reading list, lined up in the order in wished to read them. Next was Tolkien’s ‘The Return of the King.” He’d enjoyed the first two, given the author had not only created a mythic construction but new languages within the world of Middle-Earth. Anything to do with languages, the Russian found fascinating.

The next was “City of Night,’ by John Rechy, and the last, “I am David,” by Anne Holm. It told the story of a young boy who, with the help of a prison guard, escapes from a concentration camp in an unnamed Eastern European country and journeys to Denmark. Thumbing through the book Illya realized there were many similarities between himself and the protagonist, such as being a polyglot.

It would no doubt be an emotional read, and might take him back to some unpleasant memories, but he refused to let himself be frightened by them. Those experiences contributed to making him the man he was today. He thought it best to leave this book until last. He’d get to it on his next day off, or so.

Given that he was a very quick reader, and had an eidetic memory he would go through all these books very quickly, some faster than others depending upon the writing style.  He suspected Tolkien would require the most reading time.

Coltrane was playing on his stereo and all was right with the world, well at least his little piece of it...that was until his communicator chirped to him.

“Chyort!” Illya swore under his breath. He never thought he’d see the day that he would not wish to jump into an assignment at the snap of a finger but wondered if his life in the West was making him soft and sentimental.

He picked up the silver pen and after quickly assembling it he spoke.

“Kuryakin here.”

‘Good morning...I mean good afternoon.” It was Napoleon.

“And the same to you. What may I do to help you?”

“No help required. I was just wondering if you’d care to do some girl watching in the park with me. The miniskirts are in full bloom.”  Solo could hear his partner inhale, then something crunched. There was jazz music playing in the background.

“Illya?”

“Sorry, I was just taking a bite of my sandwich.”

“Oh. Where are you?”

“Home. I am listening to Coltrane, eating a grilled ham and swiss on Russian rye, and reading ‘The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.”

“So I guess you don’t want to come out to the park and play? Maybe we can pick up a couple of dates for this evening.”

“Napoleon, you are my friend and partner but we differ in what we consider to be as you call it, play.”

“Okay pal, you’re loss. I’ll see you tomorrow at headquarters.”

“Do not forget, we have an eight a.m. meeting with George Dennell.”

“Don’t remind me,” Napoleon groaned. “I like George but his meetings can be  dull.”

“Really? I find them most enlightening.”

“You would. So I’m off to the park; you enjoy your ..’.me, myself and I’ company.”

“I will Napoleon. Out.”

Illya rose and changed the record to a Latin recording. As the music kicked in he did a little samba step, swiveling his hips as he returned to the chair.

Unexpectedly, he felt a tingling in his nether regions. “Damn you Napoleon!”  He picked up his communicator.

“Solo here.”

“Napoleon, wait for me?”

“What made you change your mind tovarisch?”

“A Latin samba.”

“What?’

“You heard me.”

“Illya Kuryakin, you are a strange man.”

“Why thank you my friend.”