A Rec for the Twelve Days

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

A fic which is unfortunately but necessarily brief, so I won't waste your time writing a summary to:

Caught at Christmas: Rosie: http://file40.net/file40g/caught.html

Day Three! The 12 Days of Christmas!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Fa-la la. fa-la la...FA LA LA~

                         

"Three Wishes~Christmas Past" for Day Three of the 12 days of Christmas

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

     




CHRISTMAS PAST

Times were lean, but the little blond boy and his siblings were well taken care of and loved by their family. Though Illya Nickovich had no calendar, he knew like so many children did, Christmas would soon arrive. His mother and grandmother busied themselves, cleaning their home, doing what little decorating they could in preparation for the holy day.

Religious observation was frowned upon by the government but there were those who still followed the old traditions, celebrating the birth of the Christ. The Kuryakin family were ones who clung to those solemn beliefs.

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The Twelve Days, Day 3 - for the 12 Days of Christmas

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Day 3

“Da da da da dum dee da dum, la la la la la, fa la la la.”

Illya Kuryakin had a nice voice. He didn’t know many Christmas carols, however, and the ones he thought he knew never came out quite right. It was his propensity for singing in Russian when he forgot the words, making up unintelligible verses that were punctuated with lots of da la la la la’s. It charmed the secretaries immensely, and brought an uncharacteristic scowl to his partner’s handsome features.

“If I sang like that everyone would ask me to be quiet. With you, they just ask for more.”

Illya grinned impishly. He found his reply impossible to repress.

“But Napoleon, you do sing like that. Always. It is not, I fear, your gift.”

( la la la la la... )

More decorations for the Section VII Christmas tree!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                             

QuoteMe: Challenge 6 -- Posting Is Open

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Posting for QuoteME: Challenge 6, the final QuoteMe challenge, is now open on section7mfu.

Please be sure and give your post a subject reflective of the challenge (including a title for the story itself). Do use the quoteme tag to identify your story. As a courtesy, please remember to place the majority of your story under a cut.

Posting for the challenge will be open until Saturday, December 21st.

Twelve Days of Christmas, MFU Style - Third Day

[avirra.livejournal.com]

"Tonight, I'll be treating the three of you to after-dinner drinks at my place."
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Twelve Days of Christmas: Bring on the Good Cheer! Part II

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

The next morning, Illya entered UNCLE HQ through the after – hours entrance as it was six – thirty, too early for Agent Del Floria’s Tailor Shop to be open. He stopped in the Commissary to buy a large cup of coffee and then headed to the office he shared with Napoleon.

At first, he was surprised to find out that the Chief Enforcement Agent of UNCLE North America would deign to share his office. He smiled ever so quickly at the memory of that conversation. “We’re partners now, Illya. Why wouldn’t I want you in an office with me?” Napoleon had said. Compared to UNCLE Europe, things seemed a lot less formal in New York. The CEA there had a partner, but they didn’t share office space. As near as he could tell, their relationship, though cordial, was not one of friendship. Napoleon insists on treating me as an equal; very rarely has he pulled rank on me and he usually only does it when he thinks I’m taking too large of a risk. Everytime I have tried to treat him as my superior, he has called me on it. I’ve never worked with anyone quite like him.

The door slid open with a quiet whoosh and Illya saw that his desk and Napoleon’s both had poinsettia plants atop them. In front of each pot sat a small, gift wrapped box with a red bow and a card attached. Placing his coffee down, he picked up the box from his desk as he sat. When he opened the card it read, “Ho, ho, ho! I know you have been feeling a little homesick for Russian lately. Here’s a little reminder of home to stick into your stocking tonight. Sincerely, Santa.”

The blond snorted at the corniness of the note. Napoleon, I already told you I do not buy into this nonsense! He put the box down and proceeded to read through his notes from his lab work the day before. He was attempting to develop a recording device that could be hidden inside a cufflink or a broach. The one currently in use was too large to hide on one’s person.

After perusing his papers for about an hour, he glanced up at the box. It seemed to be beckoning to him; the more he tried to ignore it, the more he couldn’t until curiosity got the better of him and he grabbed it. Lifting off the lid, he saw a ten ruble coin with a metal circle around it attached to a chain. Raising it to take a better look he thought, This is nice; a little piece of home.

The door opened and Napoleon entered. “Morning! Wow, poinsettias! Nice touch. Who did this, Illya?”

“Do not play coy with me, Napoleon. I know you must have done this last night.”

The brunet shook his head as he removed his coat. “Not me. We left together, remember? It was almost nine. You think I would circle back to put plants in here? My luck, the Old Man would see me and send me on a courier’s run. No, I didn’t do this.” He plopped down and picked up the gift box on his desk. “I certainly wouldn’t buy myself a present.” He opened his card. Frowning he read, “Napoleon, you are hanging onto your place on my ‘Good’ list by a thread. Here’s something to help keep you there. Remember Aunt Amy. Santa.” Inside his box were two orchestra tickets for that night’s performance of the Broadway play “The Odd Couple.”

“What the…? How did…?” Napoleon was completely flummoxed. “Illya, I had promised my aunt I would take her to see this show and after that last mission, I completely forgot about it. Only she and I knew of my intent! This is strange.”

Illya sat back and stared. “So, you really did not do any of this?” At Napoleon’s headshake, Illya muttered, “Strange, indeed.”