section7mfu | Cell Mates - Short Affair

Prompts - Trust / Orange
Word Count - 575

You can find the story beneath the cut, or you can follow the link to AO3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21481375

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“What’s the Russian word for orange?” asked Napoleon Solo, as he and his partner waited in another cell.

They couldn’t complain too much as they had cots, a lavatory and basin, plus light and warmth.

“The colour or the fruit?” asked Illya Kuryakin, wearily.

Napoleon was his partner, and his closest friend and, even though he trusted him with his life, there were times he could cheerfully strangle him. Not to death of course; just enough to send him into unconsciousness.

“Either.”

“Oranzhevyy or apel'sin.”

“I thought so,” Napoleon muttered, before lapsing back into silence.

The two men were each laid on a cot with their hands behind their heads. They’d been like this since they’d been put there almost three hours previously. Ordinarily, being locked up together wasn’t a problem for either man but, this time, Solo was agitated. In an effort to counter this, he had been stating most of his thoughts, however random, aloud. This, in turn, was agitating Illya. The Russian was happy to wait quietly, knowing that they would be released before too long, so therefore he had no need to make an escape himself. The American, on the other hand, was outraged that they had ended up in this situation in the first place. It had taken all of Illya’s persuasion to stop him from breaking out and making matters worse.

After five minutes of silence it was obvious Napoleon wasn’t going to elaborate on his last thought.

“Why did you ask?” queried Illya.

“Ask what?”

“The translation for orange.”

“Oh, no reason really.”

Illya gave out an overly exaggerated sigh, which promised pain and suffering if Napoleon didn’t stop.

“There’s no need to be like that,” Solo stated. “It’s your fault we’re here.”

“My fault?!” Illya exclaimed, as he sat up and turned to face his partner.

“Yes, you’re the one who shot the guy.”

“Darted,” said Illya, with insistence. “On your say so, I might add. You told me he was our mark.”

“So I was wrong.”

“There are times Napoleon, when.....”

Before Illya could finish his sentence, the cell door opened. NYPD detective, Charlie Bloom, stepped in.

“Okay gentlemen, you can go.”

“So you finally believe our identities are what we say?” asked Napoleon.

The man Illya had darted had turned out to be Detective Bloom’s partner. Bloom had immediately placed the agents under arrest, for assaulting a police officer. Naturally, the two men argued their case and gave their identities, all while complying with the detective. Bloom hadn’t wanted to listen to their protestations, which they could hardly blame him for, and they’d figured they would be released quite quickly.

“I believed you from the start,” Bloom replied. “I just get a little tired of you U.N.C.L.E. guys thinking you can run around my city waving your guns. When you shot my partner, I decided to teach you a lesson.”

Solo and Kuryakin didn’t answer. They knew the man could make their lives difficult if they antagonised him any further. They merely stood up, put on their jackets, and headed for the door.

“You can collect your equipment on the way out,” Bloom told them, before breaking into a grin. “I took the liberty of informing your headquarters of your arrest, and the reason for it.”

Napoleon and Illya gave each other a knowing look. Mr Waverly was going to have some very strong opinions on the events of the day.

.