Your Communicator or Mine
May. 8th, 2014 11:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuIllya and April hadn’t seen each other in weeks. They kept missing each other as he and Napoleon had affairs that took them to the mid – West, then south to Atlanta followed by a conference in UNCLE’s Barcelona Headquarters while she and Mark had been in Argentina, Colombia and Belize. Neither would have admitted it under torture, but they missed each other’s company.
April and Mark were walking down the hall toward the elevator bank after being debriefed by Napoleon when one of the elevators opened to reveal the Russian carrying two cups of coffee. “Illya, Darling! How are you?” April exclaimed with a smile on her face.
“There is a familiar face I have not seen in a while. I am fine, April, how are you?” He stepped off the elevator and looked at Mark. “And how are you, Mark?”
April was saying “Fine” at the same time Mark was extending his hand and replying “’Ello, Illya.” He was still a little leery of Illya since their conversation in the cafeteria a couple of months earlier.* He had seen a side of the Russian that he hoped to never have pointed in his direction again.
Illya smiled shyly and said, “April, can I interest you in dinner tonight?”
“I would be more than interested, Darling. I’ll meet you in Reception at seven; Mark and I have to write up our mission reports.”
As the two moved past Illya into the elevator, he bowed his head slightly and replied, “Seven, it is.”
Hours later, April and Illya finally came up for air in her bedroom. Dinner had gone off as planned, but they both knew what they wanted for dessert and wasted no time downing their appetizers and entrees. They were wrapped in each other’s arms catching their breath when the familiar chirp chirp chirp of a communicator reached their ears.
“Oh, no,” April moaned.
“What is wrong?”
“We got out of our clothes so fast, Darling, both of our communicators fell onto the floor and I don’t know whose is whose. Do you?”
“No, that is a replacement. Again. Does it matter?”
“Of course it does, Darling! What if Mr. Waverly is calling me and you answer? It’s two in the morning!”
“So?”
“So? So? I don’t want Mr. Waverly to know we’re having sex!”
“Number one, he probably already knows and number two, we are consenting adults. Are you ashamed of what we are doing?”
“Not at all, Illya Darling; never.”
The Russian smiled enigmatically, “Then choose a communicator and answer it.”
Her hand hovered over first one and then, the other. Choosing the one on the left, she assembled it quickly and said, “Dancer.”
A laugh came through the device. “Agent Dancer, may I ask why you are answering my partner’s communicator at two fifteen in the morning?”
Illya reached over and plucked his communicator from April’s hand. “Stop it, you blockhead, you are embarrassing her. What do you want?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Tovarisch, but the Old Man just told me that we have an affair in Alaska. We’re booked on a ten AM flight to Seattle tomorrow morning. Come prepared to leave.”
“Will do, Napoleon.”
“Excellent. Good night to you and April.”
Illya disassembled his communicator and placed in on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “I cannot stay. Let us make the most of the time we have left,” he said as he pulled her close.
“Until next time, Darling,” she said right before her mouth covered his.
*ref. "Personally Speaking”
April and Mark were walking down the hall toward the elevator bank after being debriefed by Napoleon when one of the elevators opened to reveal the Russian carrying two cups of coffee. “Illya, Darling! How are you?” April exclaimed with a smile on her face.
“There is a familiar face I have not seen in a while. I am fine, April, how are you?” He stepped off the elevator and looked at Mark. “And how are you, Mark?”
April was saying “Fine” at the same time Mark was extending his hand and replying “’Ello, Illya.” He was still a little leery of Illya since their conversation in the cafeteria a couple of months earlier.* He had seen a side of the Russian that he hoped to never have pointed in his direction again.
Illya smiled shyly and said, “April, can I interest you in dinner tonight?”
“I would be more than interested, Darling. I’ll meet you in Reception at seven; Mark and I have to write up our mission reports.”
As the two moved past Illya into the elevator, he bowed his head slightly and replied, “Seven, it is.”
Hours later, April and Illya finally came up for air in her bedroom. Dinner had gone off as planned, but they both knew what they wanted for dessert and wasted no time downing their appetizers and entrees. They were wrapped in each other’s arms catching their breath when the familiar chirp chirp chirp of a communicator reached their ears.
“Oh, no,” April moaned.
“What is wrong?”
“We got out of our clothes so fast, Darling, both of our communicators fell onto the floor and I don’t know whose is whose. Do you?”
“No, that is a replacement. Again. Does it matter?”
“Of course it does, Darling! What if Mr. Waverly is calling me and you answer? It’s two in the morning!”
“So?”
“So? So? I don’t want Mr. Waverly to know we’re having sex!”
“Number one, he probably already knows and number two, we are consenting adults. Are you ashamed of what we are doing?”
“Not at all, Illya Darling; never.”
The Russian smiled enigmatically, “Then choose a communicator and answer it.”
Her hand hovered over first one and then, the other. Choosing the one on the left, she assembled it quickly and said, “Dancer.”
A laugh came through the device. “Agent Dancer, may I ask why you are answering my partner’s communicator at two fifteen in the morning?”
Illya reached over and plucked his communicator from April’s hand. “Stop it, you blockhead, you are embarrassing her. What do you want?”
“Sorry to interrupt, Tovarisch, but the Old Man just told me that we have an affair in Alaska. We’re booked on a ten AM flight to Seattle tomorrow morning. Come prepared to leave.”
“Will do, Napoleon.”
“Excellent. Good night to you and April.”
Illya disassembled his communicator and placed in on the nightstand on his side of the bed. “I cannot stay. Let us make the most of the time we have left,” he said as he pulled her close.
“Until next time, Darling,” she said right before her mouth covered his.
*ref. "Personally Speaking”
