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section7mfuI haven’t been writing this fandom for long, so I have nothing to repost or link to. Instead, I hope you’ll forgive me posting this brand new quintuple (almost) drabble.
“Hey chum, are you coming to the commissary for the party?”
Illya turned from the filing cabinet to his partner and shook his head.
“No thank you,” he replied. “I have a headache starting and I could really do without the noise of a Hallowe’en party.”
“You sure?” Napoleon probed. “I happen to know that at least fourteen people have brought pumpkin pie.”
“Save me some, I’ll have it tomorrow.”
Solo was surprised. He’d known Illya ignore many an illness if there was food to be had.
“Okay Tovarisch. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Goodnight Napoleon.”
As soon as his partner was out of sight, Illya finished tidying his files away, put his jacket on and headed for home.
. . . . .
Napoleon only stayed at the party for a couple of hours. Before leaving, he wrapped up slices of three different pies and made his way to Illya’s apartment.
Upon arrival at the building, he was immediately accosted by three small vampires and a mummy.
“Sorry kids,” he told them. “I didn’t pick up any candy.”
“Aaaawwwwww.”
“Hold on.”
He fished around in his pocket and extracted four quarters. He handed one to each of the four monsters.
“Will that do?”
“Thanks Mister,” exclaimed the tallest of the vampires.
By the time Napoleon reached Illya’s third floor apartment, he had completely run out of small change. Every hallway seemed to be occupied by various ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, witches and mummies. He was in no doubt that Illya probably hated having the building’s children running and squealing past his door, especially with his headache. Solo rapped his coded knock on his partner’s door and waited. He was ill-prepared for what greeted him on the other side.
“Illya?”
“Who else would it be?”
Napoleon stood back to fully take in the sight before him. Illya was dressed in a tuxedo and opera cape. On his head he wore a black wig, complete with widow’s peak and his canine teeth were capped with pointed fangs. His face was caked in make-up which gave him the look of the recently deceased and in the Russian’s hands was a rather large bowl of candy.
“I thought you had a headache.”
“I lied,” Illya stated. “I wanted to get home for the children here. I enjoy being surrounded by children having fun. It reminds me of my young childhood. Not that we had Hallowe’en of course.”
“You could have just told me this is what you wanted to get home for Tovarisch.”
“What, and risk someone overhearing and ruining my reputation as a cold-hearted communist at headquarters?”
Napoleon had to laugh. “Hey, since I knocked on your door, do I get candy? I’ll give you pumpkin pie in return.”
The End
“Hey chum, are you coming to the commissary for the party?”
Illya turned from the filing cabinet to his partner and shook his head.
“No thank you,” he replied. “I have a headache starting and I could really do without the noise of a Hallowe’en party.”
“You sure?” Napoleon probed. “I happen to know that at least fourteen people have brought pumpkin pie.”
“Save me some, I’ll have it tomorrow.”
Solo was surprised. He’d known Illya ignore many an illness if there was food to be had.
“Okay Tovarisch. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
“Goodnight Napoleon.”
As soon as his partner was out of sight, Illya finished tidying his files away, put his jacket on and headed for home.
. . . . .
Napoleon only stayed at the party for a couple of hours. Before leaving, he wrapped up slices of three different pies and made his way to Illya’s apartment.
Upon arrival at the building, he was immediately accosted by three small vampires and a mummy.
“Sorry kids,” he told them. “I didn’t pick up any candy.”
“Aaaawwwwww.”
“Hold on.”
He fished around in his pocket and extracted four quarters. He handed one to each of the four monsters.
“Will that do?”
“Thanks Mister,” exclaimed the tallest of the vampires.
By the time Napoleon reached Illya’s third floor apartment, he had completely run out of small change. Every hallway seemed to be occupied by various ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, witches and mummies. He was in no doubt that Illya probably hated having the building’s children running and squealing past his door, especially with his headache. Solo rapped his coded knock on his partner’s door and waited. He was ill-prepared for what greeted him on the other side.
“Illya?”
“Who else would it be?”
Napoleon stood back to fully take in the sight before him. Illya was dressed in a tuxedo and opera cape. On his head he wore a black wig, complete with widow’s peak and his canine teeth were capped with pointed fangs. His face was caked in make-up which gave him the look of the recently deceased and in the Russian’s hands was a rather large bowl of candy.
“I thought you had a headache.”
“I lied,” Illya stated. “I wanted to get home for the children here. I enjoy being surrounded by children having fun. It reminds me of my young childhood. Not that we had Hallowe’en of course.”
“You could have just told me this is what you wanted to get home for Tovarisch.”
“What, and risk someone overhearing and ruining my reputation as a cold-hearted communist at headquarters?”
Napoleon had to laugh. “Hey, since I knocked on your door, do I get candy? I’ll give you pumpkin pie in return.”
The End
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