Serendipity - Picfic Challenge - Feb 24th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

This is just a little bit of last minute silliness :-) It is definitely not a brilliant story.

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Five years ago, Napoleon Solo had lived up to his name by always working alone. These days, he preferred to have the back up of his partner. Without Kuryakin, Solo would have been dead long ago. However, there were still times when agents had to take assignments single handed. The reasons ranged from the partner having other duties, or being injured, or simply because they were on holiday. Illya was on holiday, as part of his recuperation from a broken collarbone. He hadn’t even told Napoleon where he’d gone. Of course, Waverly would know, but the CEA wasn’t about to ask.

Due to his partner’s absence, Napoleon was left to do his own paperwork. Most people assumed he handed it off to Illya because he was too lazy, or had a hot date to rush to. The basic truth of the matter was that the Russian could type much faster, and far more neatly, than the American. Of course, this meant he’d lost most of his afternoon catching up on reports he’d neglected while pursuing his other duties. He would have cursed Illya, if it weren’t for the fact he’d been to blame for the accident in the first place.

Napoleon had been in the commissary, trying to persuade Janine from Communications to join him for dinner. As he’d talked, he’d failed to notice that the coffee cup he was holding was tilting, causing the liquid to spill out. It was at this moment Illya entered and promptly skidded on the coffee. As he’d fallen, his collarbone collided, with a sickening crack, against the corner of one of the tables. Medical had fixed it easily enough, and had allowed him back to work; as long as he stuck to very light. Napoleon, out of a sense of guilt, had insisted is partner took a couple of weeks off, on full pay. Illya agreed to one week, but only because the timing was perfect for something he’d always wanted to see.

It was 6:15 pm by the time Napoleon got finished, and 7:00pm by the time he reached home. Entering the apartment, he carefully hung his jacket up before pouring himself a scotch. With his drink in hand, he rooted around the kitchen to find something for dinner. There was plenty of food to choose from, but he was too tired to even contemplate cooking. There was nothing for it, but to have something delivered.

While he waited for his dinner to arrive, Napoleon took a quick shower and slipped into a pair of silk pyjamas. He would never admit it to anyone, but sometimes there was nothing better than a night in front of the television. Within half an hour, Solo had his dinner on his lap and the news on the television. He already knew most of the important stuff, and was fully aware that what he was being told by the anchor wasn’t the entire truth. Towards the end of the bulletin, there was a piece from New Orleans. Napoleon had completely forgotten it was Mardi Gras. He’d spent many a happy night peeling an extravagant costume from a beautiful lady.

On the screen the news cameras picked out some of the more colourful outfits, but one particular woman caught Napoleon’s eyes. She was a beauty, like many of the other women, but her costume was entirely black. When she raised her arms, she revealed hidden wings. Before Solo could fully appreciate the vision, the image changed again to show the dancing crowds watching the wonderful displays. It was then that Napoleon discovered where his partner had gone for his holiday. Right in the centre of the screen, with his arm in a tight sling to protect his collarbone, Illya Kuryakin was dancing and laughing. He was obviously having the time of his life.

“I’m going to break more than his collarbone,” Solo growled at the television.

Comments

[reapermum.livejournal.com]

It might only have been a bit of last minute silliness, but I enjoyed reading it.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Thank you :-)