The Thinker - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is a prelude of sorts to my Crossover Challenge story.  That's coming up beginning on the 10th of this month, over on uncle_du_jour

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"What do you think of time travel?" Illya's question was delivered without any hint of sarcasm or mirth.  It caught Napoleon off guard.

"First class or economy?"

Illya looked up with an expression of exasperation on his face.  Why could Napoleon not simply answer the question?

"I cannot guarantee either.  I do believe that, with quantum theories in mind, the idea of time travel is not completely out of the question."

"…"

"Napoleon… Never mind." With that he rose from his chair and headed for the door.  His partner had a surge of regret.

"Illya, I'm sorry. Explain it to me."

Birth Day, my offering for "A Little Drabble Do Ya!" Wednesday.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Birth Day

Kuryakin reached into the cradle and lifted his newborn son into his arms. The crying infant instantly quieted and met his father’s blue-eyed gaze with a blue-eyed gaze of his own.

“What shall you be when you are grown, little one? Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy? You can become anyone you wish.” He kissed the baby’s cheek and placed him in his wife’s arms.

“Don’t ask him to grow up too fast. May we name him first?” the mother pleaded.

“In this harsh world, we must teach him all we know and more,” Kuryakin answered.

“Illya Nickovetch,” they both agreed.

*

"Hmmm..." For A Little Drabble Do Ya!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

(a double drabble)

Napoleon moaned as he opened his eyes to the sun shining through his bedroom window; he’d forgotten to pull down the shade when he went to bed at four in the morning.

“Peachy,” he mumbled as he rose, pushing his feet into his slippers and grabbing his robe; he headed to the bathroom.

After taking care of the call to nature, he washed his hands and brushed his teeth. He didn’t bother looking at in the mirror as he knew he was a mess.

He heard Illya’s knock at the door, and his coming inside.

“Napoleon I have breakfast!”

“How did you know I was awake?”

“Trade secret.”

Solo walked out to find bagels, jam, butter and two orders of bacon and scrambled eggs sitting in their styrofoam containers on his dining room table. Two blue and white take out cups of coffee as well.

“Now this is a nice surprise.” Napoleon seated himself, ready to dig in. “Wait, you said trade secret...you don’t have my apartment bugged do you?”

“Would I do something like that?” Illya popped a slice of bacon into his mouth.

Napoleon shrugged, though he decided once his partner left; he’d sweep for listening devices...

Extracting a Confession - A Little Drabble Do Ya! - June 8th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

The prisoner sat, shackled to the chair, in the centre of a featureless room. His captor, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, hadn’t asked a single question. For twenty-five minutes, he had done nothing but slowly sharpen the cutting edge of his knife. Finally, he stopped and held the knife up to inspect it properly, before trying a couple of experimental slashes through the air.

“Okay,” the prisoner suddenly cried, with sheer terror in his voice. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

“Thank you,” replied Illya Kuryakin, re-sheathing his blade. “I’ll just go and get a pen.”

.