"He was on vacation"~for the PicFic Tuesday Challenge September 10th

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                 

Illya rubbed his eyes, opening them just as the sun began to shine brightly through his bedroom window. He looked at the clock, feeling that pang of anxiety in his stomach, thinking he was late for work, but suddenly remembered he was on vacation.

A week to himself to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

Unlike Napoleon who’d dashed away to an exotic locale on his time off, the Russian was content to stick to his humble abode just to read, eat, sleep and listen to his beloved jazz albums. He was a man of simple tastes for the most part.

Going off to some tropical beach, being fawned over by dozens of scantily clad, bikini-wearing women, though a delightful thought, still seemed rather exhausting to him. He preferred his relationships with women to be less shallow than his partner’s ‘love ‘em and leave ‘em’ philosophy. Illya was more than content to stay at home, alone.

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Game, Set, Match - PicFic 9/10

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This story was inspired by and is marginally related to a drabble from last week, The Interrogation. The photo prompt is the inspiration in the last 'chapter', Match.
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Game...

It had started with a game of tennis.  Illya Kuryakin was posing, not for the last time, as a tennis pro in search of a willing student.  The object of the search was the daughter of a THRUSH chief named Nicholas Williams.  The girl was a way into the organization, although at present she was also engaged in a fantasy involving the handsome blond on the other side of the court.

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Self Defense Lessons for picfic Tuesday 9/10

[dixiebelle2013.livejournal.com]

Originally posted by dixiebelle2013 at Self Defense Lessons for picfic Tuesday 9/10

"Oh, how lovely!" Trina exclaimed as she and Illya entered the hotel room. "And the view is just gorgeous!"

The room they'd been given was quite large, with a cozy fireplace and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. In the center of the room was a round table, flanked on one side by a love seat and the other by a chair. Both were dark blue with white polka dots. Against the wall opposite the fireplace was a comfortable-looking bed with many pillows, and a third wall was almost completely taken up by windows, a large arched one in the middle with a smaller one to either side. Above the arched window, a small circular window was near the ceiling, which was also arched.

"Let's pretend you're George Emerson and I'm Lucy Honeychurch, and we're on our honeymoon," Trina suggested. She loved the novel 'Room With A View' and had introduced it to the blond who, although he strongly disapproved of the early twentieth century social class structures represented in the book, found the story itself charming as well.

The UNCLE agent growled playfully and picked her up and carried her to the bed, gently laying her amongst the fluffy pillows.

Later they went for a walk to enjoy the scenery in the quaint little town. Their leisurely stroll was interrupted by a large, muscular brute who pulled a knife on Illya and demanded his money. The smaller man effortlessly kneed the larger one in the groin and, while he was bent over in agony, delivered a karate chop to the back of his neck, sending his tumbling forward so that his head hit the pavement with a solid 'whack', rendering him unconscious. The Russian snatched the knife from his limp hand, and he and Trina hurriedly returned to their motel room.

"Wow, that was really amazing!" the brunette said once they were safely back inside the hotel. "He was so much bigger than you! How'd you do that?"

"I simply used basic self defense techniques," Illya told her. "I would like to teach them to you as well. It would make me feel much better about having to leave you home alone when I am gone on assignment."

"Me? Learn self defense?" Trina glanced doubtfully at her leg braces.

"It is true that you cannot kick very well, but there are replacement techniques that can be used to achieve the same outcome."

He taught her how to do a straight punch, which could be used in place of a front kick, a roundhouse punch, which could replace a roundhouse kick, and a hammerfist, which would work as well as a back kick. Soon the young woman was proficient in many martial arts techniques.

Illya also bought her a small pink pistol and took her to the firing range for target practice. Although she felt awkward holding the gun at first, she was soon proficient at that as well.

One day the two were home alone when they heard movement outside their front door. Instantly Illya's hand was on his firearm. Trina grabbed her own and pulled the trigger, and at the same instant, the blond shoved her arm to the side so that it went into the opposite wall. Then he went to the door to allow a very shaken Napoleon in.

"It is of utmost importance to ascertain that you are truly in danger before taking action," he said fiercely through his teeth.

"I almost killed our best friend." Trina began to sob, hard.

"Trinochka." Illya's voice was much kinder as he went to her and put his arms around her. "Anyone can make a mistake. But please, moya lyubov, let this be a lesson to you to be more careful next time."

He felt her nod against his chest and knew that she would heed his words.