[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu
This is a little story I wrote back in 2013 and seemed appropropriate for today.

The sun was finally shining, no thunderclouds in sight and the weather forecast indicated it would be a delightful Independence Day.


Napoleon checked the mooring lines on his yacht, making a few last preparations to sail his new boat, the Pursang out into Long Island sound.


He looked at his watch, as he glanced up the dock. No sign of his Russian partner. He’d invited Illya to spend the day with him out on the water, where they’d eat drink and after sunset they’d head up the Hudson to watch the annual fireworks display, perhaps anchoring near Lady Liberty herself.


At this point, it looked like he’d be doing it alone.  Illya was dodgy when it came to accepting the invitation.  Though the man had been in the Soviet Navy, he disliked the water.  Imagine being in the navy and getting seasick.  In Illya’s case, quite an embarrassment.


If it hadn’t been for the fact that he served on board a submarine, he probably wouldn’t have survived his tour of duty.  Like so many other things, Illya was closed-mouthed about that as well.


Napoleon looked up again to see his partner walking down the dock towards him. He was loaded with a box that looked rather heavy.


“Hi chum, glad you decided to make it,” Napoleon grinned.”What’s in the box?”


“Ginger beer, and a few other things to keep my stomach settled, and something for you, the host.”.


“Thank you...by the way Illya, the water is like glass out there today. Its so calm we’re probably going to have to motor instead of unfurling the sails.”


“That does not matter, as I have seen myself be sick in the calmest of situations. You are lucky Napoleon, that you do not get seasick.  It is an awful feeling....”


“Well I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” he took the box, carrying it to the deck, but resisted the urge to peek inside.


“What does crossing fingers have to do with preventing seasickness?” Kuryakin asked as he came aboard.


Napoleon just stared at him for a moment. “Never mind...” He decided not to start anything with Illya, given the man had even showed up.


They untied the mooring lines, and Napoleon started up the motor, navigating out of the marina. He gave it a bit more power when they cleared the last buoy, taking the Pursang out into the sound.


Illya was sitting on a bench in the aft, and periodically Solo would turn to check on him.  The blond had his eyes closed, with his face turned upwards towards the sun, and as his hair blew in the soft breeze Napoleon thought for a moment how boyish the Russian looked.


When the Pursang reached a nice spot, Napoleon turned off the engine and threw out the anchor.


“Okay buddy boy, let’s get lunch going...well I’ll take care of that.  Did you bring a bathing suit...why don’t you take a swim while I get things ready.


“I did as a matter of fact,” Illya smiled, “but first things first,” he opened the box he’d brought pulling out the ginger beer and quite a few cans of Rheingold beer in a plastic bag filled with ice.


“Well Illya Kuryakin, I like how you’re thinking,” Napoleon smiled.  Solo watched as his partner poured the ginger beer with some Rheingold in a tall glass.


“Beer with ginger soda? That sounds sort of disgusting if you don’t mind me saying”


“I presume you’ve never heard of a thing called a ‘shandy?’ Though it is normally made with a lemon-lime soda and mixed with an ale. It is a rather popular summer drink in the U.K. and I became accustomed to it while I was stationed at UNCLE London. Try it my friend, I guarantee you will like it.”   The Russian handed his partner the tall tumbler.


Napoleon as usual, made a face but tried it. “Wow this is pretty good.” He took a larger mouthful.


Illya poured another, and they toasted to the American holiday.  One after another, they continued to drink; Napoleon somehow forgetting lunch.


This went on for hours, and as the sun set Napoleon weighed anchor and headed to the Hudson for the fireworks display, navigating somewhat awkwardly as his partner’s concoction had gotten him more than tipsy. Still he was a pro when it came to sailing his boat, drunk or sober.


Illya finally pulled the tray of cold cuts from the refrigerator and the two of them picked at it hungrily, still drinking the shandies.



They anchored amongst many other boats in the river there for the fireworks, and the two agents settled in just as the display began.


The ferocity and frequency of the beautiful explosions impressed the Russian tremendously.


“These are quite effective…(.hic) I like big booms and I like how your country celebrates this day.”


“Yes they are chum, this is going on all across the United States...people gathering to celebrate their freedoms. He raised his glass, “Here’s to the United States and Old Glory!”


“Old Glory?” Illya asked.


“It’s a common nickname for the flag of the United States, bestowed by William Driver, an early nineteenth-century American sea captain.”


“Oh, thank you fer telling me that. Yes here is to your country and your flag, both representing a great freedom. It seeeeems to me not all American’s realize that and take it for granted.”


“Well said, Illya.  This country isn’t perfect, and has plenty of problems. Hopefully it’ll get things right someday.  Until then, I guess that’s why UNCLE’s here, to remind people to appreciate the freedoms they have and not just here in the U.S.”


BOOOOOOM!


Another burst of color filled the sky. This time it was red, white and blue sparkling as the colors drifted downwards before they faded away.


“Oh that was a good one,” Illya smiled, raising his glass to his American partner with a wink of his eye.

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