"What dreams may come," ~ for the inaugural "Short Affair Challenge 10/13

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The inaugural “Short Affair Challenge”

Title: What dreams may come

Author: mrua7

Prompt: #2 glamour

Color: blue

Characters: Napoleon Solo, Illya Kuryakin

Word Count: 550

As he walked through the beautiful flower filled meadow Napoleon Solo gazed up at the clear blue sky. It was glorious, possibly the most enticing setting he’d ever experienced….except it wasn’t real. Yet the scent of wild flowers filled his nostrils, there were birds happily chirping in the nearby trees.

“Don’t do it Solo, keep your wits about you,” he told himself.

This was all some sort of drug-induced delusion or perhaps an attempt to emulate fairy glamour...it wasn’t real, he repeated to himself.

The last thing Napoleon remembered was being in a dark musty basement, strung up against a lichen covered stone wall; hanging by a pair of iron manacles.

.
Beside him in the same predicament was a skeleton belonging to a fellow who obviously never managed to escape his imprisonment.

“Dammit Illya where are you when I need you?” Napoleon mumbled.

.

“I am right here my friend,” Illya was inexplicably standing right in front of him in that carefree meadow as if he’d appeared out of thin air.

The Russian was dressed completely in flowing white clothes, with a laurel of flowers crowning his blond head. Around his neck were strands of brightly colored beads and a large peace symbol pendant made of silver.  He was carrying a basket of flowers and periodically wouid reach into it and toss a handful of petals in the air. As they floated downwards, time seemed to stand still, holding them in place until they began to slowly drift to the ground.

His blue eyes seemed to sparkle like stars as he grinned.

“No you’re not. It’s not you. This is all a dream. Illya Kuryakin would never be dressed like some cockamamie flowerchild, much less acting like one,” Solo raised his voice, trying to will himself out of his vision, but it was such a pleasant one..

“Napoleon...Napoleon!” Illya called out.  “Wake up will you for pity’s sake. You are having that ridiculous dream again.” He elbowed the American in the side, attempting to wake him.

“Why must you have that bloody dream when we have to share a bed...a rather small one I might add,” Illya complained.

Napoleon rolled to his back, and by doing do edged his partner closer to the side of the mattress.

“Sorry,” he yawned. “Hey you have your share of leg-kicking nightmares chum. So who are you to complain.”

“One who is being kept awake that is who, and at least my dreams are based in reality and not some hippie fantasy of singing flowers and dancing...whatever.”

“There were no singing flowers, or dancing for that matter but you were dressed like a flowerchild all in white and had flowers in your hair...hmm, you looked quite fetching, poosey cat,” Solo ribbed him.

It was another one of those moments where Kuryakin couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“Leave me out of your flights of fancy if you please?” He grabbed his pillow and blanket, heading for the privacy of the bathroom. “You know where I will be sleeping,” he announced as he shut the door after himself..

“Excuse me chum,” Napoleon called out, “But I have to use the facilities.”

Illya stuck his head out the door, throwing down the gauntlet.” If you get out of that bed, then I lay claim to it and the floor is yours for the duration of our assignment."

“Fine, I  can wait.” Napoleon rolled to his side, intending to go back to sleep but that just wasn’t happening.

“Illya?”

“What?”

“I need to get a drink of water...sorry.”

“No. Get over it. Now good night.”

“Good night chum,” Napoleon snickered. He just loved zinging it to his partner sometimes...

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! How many times are dreams filled with strange images, and while dreaming you're telling yourself it's not real, as if you're cognizant that you're dreaming?

Makes sense the guys might get on each others nerves at times, especially after having to share and undersized bed. Rather than fighting for said bed, Illya's opting to find peace in the bathroom seemed more like 'him.' lol. dreams indeed!