Two of Us - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

"What happened to all of the beautiful women?"

Illya's question echoed in Napoleon's thoughts as he reviewed the activities of the past few days.  Reunited with his old partner and recruited to return to UNCLE, the still handsome Solo thought of the women he had romanced during those early years.  Where were they?  Had they married, or was the era of free love as difficult for them to shed as it had been for the reigning casanova of UNCLE Headquarters?

Illya had been more discreet, perhaps more discerning in his romantic trysts. And yet here they were, both single.

Alone.

" A ticked off Kuryakin"~ For A Little Drabble Do Ya!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

“This really is the life, moving along at a nice leisurely pace while putting up your feet...ahhh.”

Napoleon was stretched out, relaxing in a gondola on a Venice canal.

“Speak for yourself,” Kuryakin whispered into his microphone. For once he was not posing as the gondolier but was moving along the walkways, following the gondola on foot.

“Well knowing you get seasick tovarisch; I took this part of the assignment.”

“Yes, done out of the kindness of your heart, I am sure.”  (Sarcasm in the Russian’s voice)

“You cut me to the quick Illya.”

“You will get over it.”

Explosive Reasoning - A Little Drabble Do Ya - Nov 4th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

“What is it about explosions?” Napoleon asked, as he and his partner ate lunch. “I would’ve thought that anyone who grew up in a war zone would despise them.”

Illya thought for a moment.

“As a child I was terrified of them,” he said eventually. “Then I was taught how to make small bombs to confuse the Nazi soldiers. As I grew older, I became fascinated by the science of how different types of explosives work. In the end, it came down to control. I have little control over most of my life, but I can harness and control chemicals."

.

Just Routine - A Little (Double) Drabble Do Ya

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

It always happened late at night. A few Section IIs would gather - more than two, less than six -  and they would go through the empty office and remove all the flourishes of personality. Photographs, house plants, souveniers brought back from exotic places and little pieces of home brought here to ward off the night. They would work together silently, efficiently, and they would pack their dead away in cardboard boxes.

Then facilities staff would move in with paint and industrial cleaner to make the hallowed space pristine. To wipe away those other touches - the dent where a fist might have met a wall after too many bad missions, the stain where coffee might have been spilled in the demonstration of a move better left for the gym. They would stand and watch, a silent audience, and if a bottle of whisky might be passed around, who would speak against them?

And then the door would be locked and the room forgotten, a blind spot in everyone's vision until new agents moved in, too often young and too fleetingly alive. They never ask who had the room before and they are never told.

They are all deep in dead men's desk drawers.

Non-Challenge Fic: The Fifty-Millionth Frenchman Affair, 1/?

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Finally got warmed up enough to start the follow-up to The Peaceful Meadows Affair from this past summer. As with that fic, some chapters may use prompts here, if they plunnie me for the story. :)

Title: The Fifty-Millionth Frenchman Affair, chapter one
Summary: Follow-up to The Peaceful Meadows Affair. Napoleon, Illya, and company have been sent to Los Angeles in search of Ms. Cue. The last thing they expected to find was that Illya has a double living in the city.


( I'm Looking Through You )