'Best to humor" for the Short Affair Challenge.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Promps were from 1/13. I'm trying to catch up.

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word 1 - Home

-Pompt Word 2 – Rainbow

-Prompt Colour – Blue

Author: mrua7

Title: “Best to humor”

Word count: Approx. 550

He fell hard, having been knocked backwards over a wooden rail fence. That sent him tumbling down around thirty feet until he came to a stop, having slammed into a large boulder.

His body remained still as his partner finished off the last of their attackers before hurtling over the fence, scrambling downwards to where Illya lay motionless.

Napoleon tripped several times, nearly falling himself before coming to a stop beside the body of Kuryakin.

Solo knelt before carefully reaching out, feeling for a pulse on Illya’s neck; he sighed, relieved that his friend was still alive, though he was bruised and bloodied.

“Illya, buddy wake up,” Napoleon called as he gently slapped his face.

“Stop,” Kuryakin mumbled. “I am awake.”

His eyes opened wide and he looked at Solo with those baby blues of his, but what he saw wasn’t Napoleon.

Instead Illya had visions of home, the little red dacha where his family lived. Behind it was a beautiful rainbow, filling the sky with its myriad of color.

His father leaned over him, speaking to him. ” Illya wake up. Are you all right?”

“Papa? Is that you? Are we home?” Illya asked in Russian.

Napoleon instantly realized his partner was hallucinating, and just went with it; he decided it was best to reply in Russian as well.

“No we are not home my son. I need to you get up; you fell and hit your head. Your mother will clean it for you; you might need some stitches.”

“Papa, why are you talking funny?”

Napoleon shook his head as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He just couldn’t win when it came to accents with his partner.

“I have a cold. Now get up, your mother has supper waiting.”  He lifted Illya by the arm with a ‘hup’.

The mention of food was all he needed to get the Russian up and moving. Luckily nothing was broken, the only thing Illya suffered was that hit to the head.

By the time they made it up the hill and to their car, Illya’s hallucinations had disappeared.

“How are you feeling? Solo asked as he helped Illya into the passenger seat.

“Hungry. Were we talking about supper waiting for us?”

“Yeah,” Napoleon grinned,”but first we need to get your head wound treated and then you can have a nice helping of...ummm, Hungarian goulash.”

“Mmmm, goulash...Russian style I prefer. My mother made the best goulash, with lots of potatoes, onions and carrots along with nice chunks of meat. I do not recall what kind of meat it was, perhaps deer that my father hunted.”

“I think we can manage that for you, or a reasonable facsimile tovarisch,” Napoleon smiled as he started up the Impala.

“Here,” he drew his handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to his partner to put pressure on his scalp.”

“Thank you Napoleon,” Illya nodded.” for more than just rescuing me.”

“Moi? I just helped you up the hill.”

Kuryakin squinted at his partner; he had a feeling Napoleon had done something else for him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Eventually it would come to him, or so he hoped...