Shall We Dance? - Short Affair 12/17
Dec. 17th, 2018 06:07 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
glennagirl.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuPrompts: curve, red
Word Count: 905
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shall We Dance?...
The assignment was a bonus as far as Napoleon was concerned. It wasn't a cold day in New York for Christmas, instead he was sitting on the balcony at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
"This is the life my friend, perfect California weather and a view of some very attractive women all decked out for Christmas." The friend in question, Illya Kuryakin of the northern regions, was not impressed.
"I don't see anything remotely like Christmas in the scene to which you are referring. I see woman in bathing suits, beneath palm trees." The scowl was not lost on Napoleon, nor the irony that his resolutely dour Russian friend and partner was somehow missing the traditional snowy vistas of a Christmas he claimed to not care about.
"I would have thought you might like being away from all of the hustle and mayhem of shoppers and … you know, all of that." Illya shot a sideways glance, it could have been interpreted as slightly hostile, or simply disgust. Sometimes Napoleon had trouble discerning the difference.
"Look at the lovely curve of her back. We couldn't see and appreciate that if she were covered in layers of clothing back in New York." Both men scanned the pool area and settled on the very scantily clad young woman with the auburn hair.
"I sincerely doubt that April would appreciate you ogling her." To be honest, Illya had a barely discernible intake of air as he watched his sometimes lover… No, that was wrong. It was over between them. At least he thought it was over.
"There's Mark. Who's he looking at?" Now the attention was on their British friend, Mark Slate. He was also at the pool, and he seemed to be watching someone or something…
"It's a girl. The one in the yellow bikini." Illya's tone was flat, he seemed to be the only one among the entourage from UNCLE who wasn't enjoying sunny Los Angeles.
"What's eating at you Illya? We're practically on vacation here, and the weather is perfect. All we are required to do is keep an eye out for Veronica Pernelli, and when we see her, to do nothing but report in. This assignment is a gift. Why can't you just accept it and enjoy it?" Napoleon was on the verge of being irritated. What should be a very enjoyable and relaxing few days in a luxurious hotel, on Christmas, without cold and snow…
"My apologies. I am somehow feeling out of place here, as though… I cannot explain it. I will attempt to do better." The smile seemed more like doubt, but Napoleon accepted it as it was offered.
Within the hour the men were gathered in the living room of their suite, each of them dressed for dinner and waiting on their female counterpart. April had changed into a red linen sheath that showed off her new tan. She wore gold sandals with a kitten heal and rhinestones, and her hair was swept up into a casual French twist. All three men nodded their approval as she entered the room.
"You look fab luv,' Mark took her hand and let her twirl, showing off the outfit and garnering more approving comments.
"Thank you darling, it's all in the line of duty." She winked conspiratorially, casting a look towards Illya. He was in a humbug mood it seemed, but perhaps dinner would cheer him up.
"We have reservations at Dino's Lodge, it's where Veronica likes to go for jazz and meet ups with her celebrity friends." Something piqued Illya's interest in what Napoleon had said.
"They have jazz?" Finally, a spark of something like enthusiasm. Napoleon latched onto it, hoping to change his friend's mood.
"Yes, it's a popular spot for jazz and Italian cuisine. And we're going to need to hurry if we don't want to lose our reservation."
The quartet hailed a cab and made their way to Dino's Lodge. It was festooned with Christmas decorations, and the aroma of Italian specialties made their mouths water with anticipation. On the stage was a quartet of musicians, the smokey, sultry tones of a jazz rendition of Silent Night making the room seem like a scene from a movie. It was good, all of it was good.
Veronica never showed up, but just as Napoleon had hoped, the evening was a night for him and his friends to simply enjoy being together. Nothing threatening or covert interrupted their enjoyment of the food or the music. Illya was transformed into his better self, without the malaise of missing a homeland to which he would never return during a season he insisted he could ignore.
At the end of the night, to the music he loved most, Illya found himself dancing with April. They made a picture that others in the room took time to admire: the handsome blond dressed in black with the glamorous redhead dressed in seasonal scarlet. Mark and Napoleon couldn't deny that a chemistry sort of oozed from the couple, although they neither one verbalized that observation.
When the couple found themselves beneath a large sphere of mistletoe hanging above the dance floor, they obliged the others with a kiss that seemed to linger, if one were observing. To April and Illya, that kiss was the magic each had been missing in this Christmas season.
It was the gift that neither of them was sure they could open.
Word Count: 905
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Shall We Dance?...
The assignment was a bonus as far as Napoleon was concerned. It wasn't a cold day in New York for Christmas, instead he was sitting on the balcony at the Beverly Hills Hotel.
"This is the life my friend, perfect California weather and a view of some very attractive women all decked out for Christmas." The friend in question, Illya Kuryakin of the northern regions, was not impressed.
"I don't see anything remotely like Christmas in the scene to which you are referring. I see woman in bathing suits, beneath palm trees." The scowl was not lost on Napoleon, nor the irony that his resolutely dour Russian friend and partner was somehow missing the traditional snowy vistas of a Christmas he claimed to not care about.
"I would have thought you might like being away from all of the hustle and mayhem of shoppers and … you know, all of that." Illya shot a sideways glance, it could have been interpreted as slightly hostile, or simply disgust. Sometimes Napoleon had trouble discerning the difference.
"Look at the lovely curve of her back. We couldn't see and appreciate that if she were covered in layers of clothing back in New York." Both men scanned the pool area and settled on the very scantily clad young woman with the auburn hair.
"I sincerely doubt that April would appreciate you ogling her." To be honest, Illya had a barely discernible intake of air as he watched his sometimes lover… No, that was wrong. It was over between them. At least he thought it was over.
"There's Mark. Who's he looking at?" Now the attention was on their British friend, Mark Slate. He was also at the pool, and he seemed to be watching someone or something…
"It's a girl. The one in the yellow bikini." Illya's tone was flat, he seemed to be the only one among the entourage from UNCLE who wasn't enjoying sunny Los Angeles.
"What's eating at you Illya? We're practically on vacation here, and the weather is perfect. All we are required to do is keep an eye out for Veronica Pernelli, and when we see her, to do nothing but report in. This assignment is a gift. Why can't you just accept it and enjoy it?" Napoleon was on the verge of being irritated. What should be a very enjoyable and relaxing few days in a luxurious hotel, on Christmas, without cold and snow…
"My apologies. I am somehow feeling out of place here, as though… I cannot explain it. I will attempt to do better." The smile seemed more like doubt, but Napoleon accepted it as it was offered.
Within the hour the men were gathered in the living room of their suite, each of them dressed for dinner and waiting on their female counterpart. April had changed into a red linen sheath that showed off her new tan. She wore gold sandals with a kitten heal and rhinestones, and her hair was swept up into a casual French twist. All three men nodded their approval as she entered the room.
"You look fab luv,' Mark took her hand and let her twirl, showing off the outfit and garnering more approving comments.
"Thank you darling, it's all in the line of duty." She winked conspiratorially, casting a look towards Illya. He was in a humbug mood it seemed, but perhaps dinner would cheer him up.
"We have reservations at Dino's Lodge, it's where Veronica likes to go for jazz and meet ups with her celebrity friends." Something piqued Illya's interest in what Napoleon had said.
"They have jazz?" Finally, a spark of something like enthusiasm. Napoleon latched onto it, hoping to change his friend's mood.
"Yes, it's a popular spot for jazz and Italian cuisine. And we're going to need to hurry if we don't want to lose our reservation."
The quartet hailed a cab and made their way to Dino's Lodge. It was festooned with Christmas decorations, and the aroma of Italian specialties made their mouths water with anticipation. On the stage was a quartet of musicians, the smokey, sultry tones of a jazz rendition of Silent Night making the room seem like a scene from a movie. It was good, all of it was good.
Veronica never showed up, but just as Napoleon had hoped, the evening was a night for him and his friends to simply enjoy being together. Nothing threatening or covert interrupted their enjoyment of the food or the music. Illya was transformed into his better self, without the malaise of missing a homeland to which he would never return during a season he insisted he could ignore.
At the end of the night, to the music he loved most, Illya found himself dancing with April. They made a picture that others in the room took time to admire: the handsome blond dressed in black with the glamorous redhead dressed in seasonal scarlet. Mark and Napoleon couldn't deny that a chemistry sort of oozed from the couple, although they neither one verbalized that observation.
When the couple found themselves beneath a large sphere of mistletoe hanging above the dance floor, they obliged the others with a kiss that seemed to linger, if one were observing. To April and Illya, that kiss was the magic each had been missing in this Christmas season.
It was the gift that neither of them was sure they could open.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2018-12-18 03:51 am (UTC)Also my cat fully sympathises with Illya finding the heat a bit much, and knows all about a humbug mood.
no subject
Date: 2018-12-18 12:38 pm (UTC)