"Changing habits" for the Impromptu Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The prompt was this photo originally posted by Jantojones.

The blond Russian sat alone atop the roof of UNCLE headquarters in New York; this wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last.

There was a cigarette in his hand, smoldering away though he hadn’t taken a drag from it. He was in one of his attempts to quit smoking and thought if he could just hold it, that would be enough.

Apparently it wasn’t and he finally brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply. The burning sensation in his mouth and throat did nothing for him, but the nicotine did, or maybe it was just the act of smoking that had a calming effect on him.

It truly was an addictive habit and Illya Kuryakin did not like that fact. Addiction meant you’d lost control of yourself.  That was something he just couldn’t allow.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground and snuffed it with the sole of his shoe.

There were quite a few cigarette butts there to give this one company and he reminded himself to clean them up before he left.

It was a clear night sky, and despite the lights of the city he could see the stars; stars he’d gazed up at since he was a child  when he made childish wishes that never came true.

On a lark, Illya had recently gone to the cinema, a small one that was barely able to support itself.  Somehow it had an afternoon featuring films made by Disney.

Among them was Peter and the Wolf and Pinocchio. The first one made him homesick, and the second in which a wish was made upon a star and the blue fairy appeared, made him sad.

No blue fairy had ever appeared to him when he wished as a child. He wished for the war to be over, he wished for more food, he wished his family to be alive again.

Eventually the war ended, but young Kuryakin knew it had nothing to do with his wishing upon a star.

Now his mood had gone into the realm of melancholia, a place with which he was quite familiar.

Napoleon often quipped about it being a very Russian thing, but Illya couldn’t imagine an entire people suffering like that; they were too busy trying to survive in a world that had its double standards, where the haves and have nots still existed.

Socialism was supposed to have done away with such things, but now that he was no longer living in the Soviet Union, he could see the way things truly were, something to which he’d been blinded.

Being in the west had spoiled him. The freedoms and prosperity he now experienced here living in New York had opened his eyes to the plight of his people.

Illya Kuryakin was glad he'd been sent here, glad that he was working with an organization that worked to protect the world and not control it.

“Hey, you trying to quit smoking again?”It was the voice of his partner.

Napoleon pulled up a milk crate beside Illya, who had not responded to his question. As soon as Solo saw him he knew what kind of was troubling his stoic friend.

“You need to not be alone, come have a drink with me at PJ Clarke’s.”

Illya finally turned his head, acknowledging Solo’s presence.

He sighed.

“Come on. I don’t know what’s gotten you into this blue funk but it’s time to end it. If you don’t feel like drinking, then we can just eat. The meal’s on me.” Napoleon canted his head, looking directly at Illya. He smiled.

That did it, “the smile,” Illya thought.  He was glad for another thing, it was the fact that Napoleon Solo wasn’t just his partner...he was his friend. Best friend, good home, good job… good life; he needed to remember all that.

Those thoughts snapped him out of his mood.

“Yes, that is a very good idea, but I will buy us dinner if that is all right with you?”

Napoleon’s eyes went wide. He leaned over and quickly put a hand to his friend’s forehead.

Illya shrank back. “What the devil are you doing?”

“Checking to see if you're feverish.”

“Why?”

“I thought you might be ill. You just offered to buy me dinner; when was the last time you did that?"

“Can a friend make such an offer and not be insulted?”

There was no answer and Illya suddenly laughed. “You are right and that is something I will try to rectify in the future.”

Napoleon rose, nodding his head, though he was a bit confused as to what had happened to his partner to suddenly turn down a free meal.

After cleaning up the cigarette butts and depositing them in a small coffee can, they left the roof together, heading to their office to pick up a few things before leaving headquarters.

Just as Illya had finished tying his tie, the call came over the public address system.

“Mister Solo and Mister Kuryakin, please report to Mister Waverly immediately.”

“So much for dinner,” Napoleon said, but he was thinking there just went his free meal for once.

“Raincheck my friend,” Illya said as the pneumatic doors to their office opened with a quiet whoosh.  “When we return from where ever we are being sent we will have dinner at P.J. Clarkes...da?”

“Da, moy drug. Ya s neterpeniyem zhdu etogo.”

Napoleon speaking Russian made Illya smile yet again, hearing his native language spoken, even though Solo’s accent was just awful.

* rough translation: Thanks my friend. I look forward to it. (apologies if my Russian is a bit off)

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thanks for this convincing and pleasant scene. We have to get it into S5 somehow.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! S5? Not sure what you mean.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Excuse it, I meant Season 5. I know it's never going to happen, but it's nice to dream .

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you for such a nice thing to say! Yeah, S5....a nice dream. sigh.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Of course Napoleon's accent is awful, LOL.
This was a nice story, and I recognise all to well how easy it is to slip into melancholia. Luckily, a good friend can help to cut it off
:-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Yep, that's what I was trying to get across.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

This is very nice, well written and thoughtful. Illya would most certainly take note of the differences between his prior indoctrination and the reality of a free society. He's too intelligent to hold onto the rhetoric of tyranny.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you and glad you liked it. It made sense he would make such comparisons (to himself)

[(Anonymous)]

Kullanıcılardan bahsetmişken, aynı zamanda çok zevklidir, paylaşılan zevklerle başkalarını bulmanı ve onlarla arkadaş olmanı sağlar.

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[(Anonymous)]

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