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carabele.livejournal.com2013-07-16 08:35 am
mrua7.livejournal.com2013-07-16 08:43 am
Napoleon Solo rose early, showered and shaved, making his way out to get the usual bagels, pastries and the Sunday newspapers. After retrieving said goodies, he’d make his way back to his partner’s apartment to have their brunch.
It had become a habit of theirs when not on assignment to relax together, and pretty much do nothing.
Some who were aware of this ritual often asked why the two men didn’t get tired of each other’s company. Napoleon’s explanation was that he considered their assignments a completely different interaction for them as compared to just hanging around as friends; though he did say they weren’t joined at the hip and were not with each other all the time. One had only to look in order to see they both had very different interests to occupy their down time.
Solo and Kuryakin were polar opposites in their tastes and how they viewed life, yet an unlikely friendship had grown between the two men, one based on a deep, mutual trust.
.
Napoleon returned from his shopping foray and made his way up the stairs to Illya’s apartment on the second floor. He could smell bacon cooking...sausage too. Illya, though he claimed he couldn’t cook was up to his usual tricks, preparing no doubt eggs as well, along with hash browns. There’d be fresh fruit compote on the table too.
Illya had become a little homebody in that respect, though he’d never admit it. There were jokes made about him only being able to boil water; he claimed to know how to do ‘survival’ cooking and nothing more.
If the breakfast he usually laid out was survival cooking; Napoleon found that hard to believe.
He gave his special knock on the Russian’s door, and it opened, with Illya’s serious face greeting him.
“How can you not smile on such a gorgeous day tovarisch?” Napoleon asked as he walked straight to the kitchen. “We should really be outside today...maybe we can take a stroll after brunch?”
Illya looked at him as if he had two heads.
glennagirl.livejournal.com2013-07-16 01:50 pm
dixiebelle2013.livejournal.com2013-07-16 01:58 pm![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
dixiebelle2013 at Tea With Royalty for Picfic Tuesday 7/16"It's so lovely to meet your friends, Illya," said Larissa Kirillovna as she poured tea for her guests. Illya, Trina, Napoleon, and Linda all sat around the table in Larissa's small but comfortable apartment.
"It's nice to meet you as well," Trina replied, smiling warmly at the older woman. "And your tea set is absolutely gorgeous!"
"Thank you." Larissa smiled. "It belonged to my mother. It was one of the few family heirlooms she was able to smuggle out when we had to flee to Finland during the Revolution."
"It must be very special to you, then," said Trina.
"Oh, it is," Larissa agreed.
"Illya tells me that you're related to Tsar Nicholas II. I've never met royalty before." Trina sounded a bit awed.
"My father was Cyril Vladimirovich, Nicholas' first cousin," Larissa told her. "Do you by any chance remember Anna Anderson?"
Trina frowned. "I've never heard of her."
"A few years after my father's cousin's family was executed, she came forward claiming to be the Grand Duchess Anastasia who survived the massacre," Larissa recalled as she sipped her tea. "As badly as we all wanted it to be true, we eventually came to see that that wasn't possible. My father became quite angry at Anna, accusing her of being a manipulative fraud who wanted a claim to the family fortune. I myself always felt a bit sorry for her. Here she was, a woman all alone who'd just survived a suicide attempt and suffered from amnesia. Who could blame her for wanting to be able to claim some identity, even if it was a false one?"
"It sounds like a terribly sad story," Trina said softly.
"Why don't you tell us a bit about yourself, dear," Larissa gently urged her.
"I'm afraid my story isn't nearly as interesting as yours is." Trina chuckled. "My mother had a miscarriage during an earthquake in Japan and wasn't ever able to get pregnant again after that. Years later they adopted me as an infant. My father lost his job during the depression and they almost lost custody of me as well. Later he got another job, and I was about six when they adopted my brother Randy. He was about three."
"So they got their happy ending, after all," Larissa said with a smile.
Soon it was time to say good-bye, and Illya took Trina for a walk in the park. "That visit brought back memories for you as well, did it not?" he asked her softly.
Trina stopped to pick a flower, then mindlessly twirled it around and around by the stem. "When I was little, my mother used to curl my hair so I'd look like Shirley Temple," she told Illya. "She'd seen all Shirley's movies. I remember watching one of the later ones with her. I wanted so badly to be just like Shirley, to be able to sing and dance just like her. Then I got sick."
"Bednaya devotchka." Illya put his arms around her, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
"On the hospital ward, whenever one of the other children died or was sent home paralyzed or in an iron lung, the nurses would tell the rest of us that they'd gone for physical therapy. The next morning we'd see the still freshly-made bed and know what had really happened."
Illya snorted.
"They meant well, Illya. They just didn't want us to be afraid. But we were all scared to death anyway. We all knew very well what might happen to us."
Illya was silent. It was the first time Trina had ever been that open with him before, and although saddened by her revelations, he suddenly felt much closer to her.
avrovulcan.livejournal.com2013-07-16 09:21 pm
