section7mfu | SNAPSHOTS ~ "Life's a drag"~ PART 2

I received quite a few amused comments about "Life's a drag" hinting at a follow-up. So here it is.

Solo and Kuryakin arrived at Del Floria and after paying the cab fare...Illya of course, as Napoleon left his ‘cash’ in his trousers back at the hotel, it fell upon the Russian to do so. At first he pulled out the money, saying "Oops," realizing it was Soviet currency. He quickly stuffed it back into his shoulder bag. At least he had the forethought to put his wallet and cash in the blue shoulder bag he’d been carrying. He handed the driver the money along with a modest tip.

As they approached the short flight of stairs leading down to the entrance to the tailor shop. Napoleon reached his arm out in front of Illya, forcing him to come to an abrupt halt.

“We can’t go into headquarters looking like this.”

“Ah, the Solo reputation is at stake again,” Illya politely but firmly moved his parther’s arm out of the way.

“I for one do not care, so please let me by. My feet are killing me,” he groused. He looked at Napoleon’s face, seeing the utter dispair in his eyes. How could he not be sympathetic to his partner’s dilemma. Solo’s life revolved, no, was completely immersed in his relationships with women and how they perceived him.

Being in drag would would taint the man’s mansculinity in their eyes perhaps. That would not do. Solo’s love of women, and theirs of him was the one thing his friend had. Who was he to deprive Napoleon of that which he held….sacred?

“All right my friend, wait here. Give me a few minutes.”

Illya hobbled down the steps and opening the door, the brass bell tinkled its welcome.

Napoleon waited patiently outside on the sidewalk above Del Florias, pacing slowly back and forth. He knew there was a security camera on him and he made a point of keeping his back turned to it.

Section V would know his face instantly, inspite of the disguise, and knowing those guys, the word about Napoleon Solo dressed in drag, much less as an old lady, would be out in no time along with an accompanying 8 X 10 glossy photo.

He spotted an older man with a cane walking towards him, yet Napoleon ignored the man, instead crossing his arms in front of himself and tapping one of his feet impatiently.

“Afternoon,” the gentleman said, doffing his hat.” Hmmm, you new to the neighborhood my dear. I haven’t seen you before.” There was a flirtatious undertone to the man’s voice.

“Get lost pal,” Napoleon said out of the corner of his mouth

“Why don’t you have an interesting voice. I like that in a woman...a strong personality. Sounds like you can take care of yourself. Say would you be interested in having a cup of coffe with me across the street. I’m headed there now for a bite of lunch...or would you care to have lunch with me?”

“Look, what don’t you understand about being told to get lost?”

The man held up his two hands in mock surrender. “Okay okay, message received...but if you ever change your mind, my name is Mike Dombrowski and I have lunch across the street every day around this time.” He tipped his hat to Napoleon, and stepped out into the street, not looking.

A taxi blared its horn as it barreled towards the man.

“Look out!” Napoleon yelled. Not hesitating, he ran into the street grabbing Mr. Dombrowski, tackling him out of the way. The two tumbled to the road, bruised but safe.

“Wow, what a woman! You saved my life...how can I ever thank you?”

Napoleon stood up, offering his hand to the man, helping him up.He realized in the process that his wig had been knocked askew. “Aww what the heck,” and he grabbed the salt and pepper hair piece, pulling off his head.

“Oh…” Dombrowski’s eyes widened in surprise. “I had no idea.”

“Now you know why I told you to get lost? I ummm, am an undercover cop and I couldn’t have my cover blown." He figured this lie would work.

“Gee so sorry mister. Thanks again.” Mike Dombrowski quickly disappeared down the street, apparently wanting to now skip his lunch.

Napoleon replaced his wig fussing with it a bit as he headed back across the street, sure now Security had seen the whole thing. He was done in for sure, and his life with the women of U.N.C.L.E. was now over. Then again, there were plenty of fish in the sea out there...so he could always date non-employees, no big deal. That thought brought a smile to his face.

Illya reappeared, dressed in his own clothing and carrying one of Napoleon’s suits, and shirts on a hanger. He’d gotten the spare hanging in their office closet.

“Here. I have made arrangements for the security cameras in the tailor shop to go down for a fifteen minute maintenance check...in three-two-one. Now if you hurry, you can get into a dressing room and change. No one will be the wiser my friend.”

“Thanks tovarisch, I appreciate it...maybe it isn’t as bad as I first thought.”

“What? Ten minutes ago you thought your world would end if you lost your reputation with the ladies.”

“Weeeell maybe not, but still your idea with the cameras is a good one.Thanks pal, I appreciate the effort.”

“Napoleon you now have thirteen minutes with which to change, I suggest a bit more alacrity.”

“Oh yeah, right.” Napoleon hopped down the stairs with a little spring in his step.

Illya remained there, shaking his head in confusion...not sure what had just happened.

When the Russian returned to Security, he found the men at the desk laughing and tittering like school children.

“What is so funny?”

“You gotta see this security tape from outside on the street in front of headquarters. Some old broad just save an old guy from being hit by a car, and what does she do? She tips her wig to him! Her hair underneath was real short and dark, but her wig was grey...weird. You should have seen the old guy take off down the street. Guess a tough old bird like that scared the heck out of him. Hmm, bird? Do you think she might have been a T.H.R.U.S.H. agent in disguise...like maybe a guy?"

Illya stood quietly, watching the tape and feigning interest. He tried not to laugh too much, and was much relieved for his partner’s sake that no one recognized him. "Shame we cannot see the persons face. Just erase the tape at the end of the day, as it is of no use to us. No need to bother Mr. Waverly with this."

"Yes sir Mr. Kuryakin."

He headed straight to Waverly’s office to make his report along with Napoleon, and meeting his partner outside the doors Illya made a comment.

“You were lucky my friend, your little act of braverly outside was caught on the security cameras but luckily your face was not clearly visible, so no one recognized you.”

“Really? I was sure they would. I was wondering why I wasn’t getting strange looks from anyone, or wise crack for that matter.

“Napoleon, your reputation is intact my friend."

"Hey thanks buddy for saving my butt for a second time today."

"My pleasure...as you have often said to me. That is what friends are for. You are my partner and I will always have your back, even though I may cover it in some strange ways.” He winked at Solo as the doors shushed open and together the two men stepped inside, side by side.