Don't Look Back - What If?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

What If Napoleon suspects that Illya is spying for the USSR? What will he do about it?

I admit to taking a few liberties with my own prompt!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a subtle thing, the raised eyebrow and a small nod of his head.

At first Napoleon just let it pass, but then he noticed it was a pattern of sorts.  His partner, the Soviet agent who had just arrived from London, seemed to be signaling someone.  Illya Kuryakin was a little stand-offish, his interaction with people in HQ seemingly hampered by his nationality in a city that hosted the world on a regular basis.  

The two of them were standing in front of a deli where Napoleon often bought his lunch.  Meatloaf, with catsup, on rye bread, with just a smear of horseradish.  It was his favorite, and he had invited Illya to join him and offered to buy his lunch as well.

“So, Illya… umm… “ The Russian turned his head slightly, the eyes cutting towards his American partner in a trademark manner, almost condescending in the way he didn’t look directly at Napoleon. There was something about it, the cold aloofness of it… Napoleon didn’t like it.  At times, he didn’t like Kuryakin.

“Is there something you wish to ask me? You’ve been watching me with an intensity I can only interpret as, well… as though you do not trust me.”

( Read more... )

Don't Look Back - What If?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

What If Napoleon suspects that Illya is spying for the USSR? What will he do about it?

I admit to taking a few liberties with my own prompt!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a subtle thing, the raised eyebrow and a small nod of his head.

At first Napoleon just let it pass, but then he noticed it was a pattern of sorts.  His partner, the Soviet agent who had just arrived from London, seemed to be signaling someone.  Illya Kuryakin was a little stand-offish, his interaction with people in HQ seemingly hampered by his nationality in a city that hosted the world on a regular basis.  

The two of them were standing in front of a deli where Napoleon often bought his lunch.  Meatloaf, with catsup, on rye bread, with just a smear of horseradish.  It was his favorite, and he had invited Illya to join him and offered to buy his lunch as well.

“So, Illya… umm… “ The Russian turned his head slightly, the eyes cutting towards his American partner in a trademark manner, almost condescending in the way he didn’t look directly at Napoleon. There was something about it, the cold aloofness of it… Napoleon didn’t like it.  At times, he didn’t like Kuryakin.

“Is there something you wish to ask me? You’ve been watching me with an intensity I can only interpret as, well… as though you do not trust me.”

( Read more... )

Happy Birthday to Ducky’s Lady

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

King of your heart❤️❤️❤️