Forging Friendship — A Drabble Story

Day 1

New York City was already lit up like, well, like a Christmas Tree.

It was Christmas, and it was cold.

Napoleon Solo was looking forward to spending Christmas at home, at least he hoped it to be so. He and his partner Illya Kuryakin, newly partnered and still working out the finer points of that status, were both sidelined with injuries sustained in their last mission.

Biding their time at various projects related to ongoing missions, it occurred to Solo that Illya hadn’t mentioned having plans for Christmas. He wondered if it was by choice or circumstance.

Maybe he’d ask.

Day 2

Illya Kuryakin had lived in some of the world’s most interesting cities. Now he found himself in New York City; perhaps the most intriguing one with its abundance and outrageous displays of commercialism. Store windows with elaborate stagings of a store bought Christmas left him longing for his childhood, for the stories told by his beloved babushka, of the child heralded by angelic hosts. It was a story he remembered now without fear of reprisal, the images of such a scene woven into his memory of the woman who shared them with her grandson.

If only...

Day 3

In the haze of being in Medical until now, both Napoleon and Illya had managed to mend, at least physically. The affair they survived was one of those with lasting memories, most of them in stark contrast to the current season of cheer and good will.

Napoleon was hesitant to invite his partner to a little soiree on Christmas Eve; he wasn’t sure of the Russian’s response to something so obviously American, a term Illya had used recently. Even though adapting well enough to Western culture, celebrations for Christmas might still be a stretch.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Day4

Some people are not by nature gregarious and lighthearted in social situations. Napoleon Solo was born to be both, his entry into a room was like turning on a light where previously there had been darkness.

On the other hand, men like Illya Kuryakin were more difficult to pin down, in terms of describing who he was. Taken too early from the warmth and love of family, his training in the Soviet system had left him wary of commitments, tentative concerning entanglements of an emotional nature.

But an invitation to a Christmas party would soon break that icy exterior.

Day5

It took Napoleon up until Christmas Eve to extend an invitation for Illya to join him as a guest at his party. The guest list included some of the people he especially liked among the Command personnel, and some others who were civilians.

It occurred to Napoleon that waiting so long might be insulting to the Russian, but as it turned out, Illya was more than happy to accept the invitation.

“You are kind to include me, Napoleon. Should I bring something?”

“Just yourself, I’m having it catered.”

Illya had to smile at that as cheerfulness overtook his expression.

Day6

Napoleon’s party was a success, and Christmas came and went with a degree of satisfaction as well as a call to duty. The mission took Solo and Kuryakin out of the country and into danger, leading to yet another round of recovery in Medical.

Illya’s injuries hadn’t required a long stay, but Napoleon was laid up with a wound that had come too near to killing him. As New Year’s Eve approached he bemoaned the bad luck that would deprive him of an evening with a beautiful young woman.

Illya was contemplating a way to cheer up his friend.