"One with the universe.."~ for What's my Line?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: What’s my line?

Prompt: That’s groovy man.

Author: mrua7

Title: One with the Universe

Word count: 925

Napoleon Solo felt very much out of his comfort zone using an undercover identity more suited to his partner's particular talents for disguising himself.

At the last minute the Russian took sick, and though he protested that he was fine; Illya was not.  There was no way he could act the part of a flower child while practically coughing up his lungs with chills and running a temperature.

It was too late to get someone else to fill the role, and Solo being thoroughly familiar with the operation had no choice but to assume the part.

Napoleon moved cautiously as he entered the drug den, trying to shuffle along to appear as if he were high.

He was dressed in a tie-dyed tee-shirt, fringed leather vest, a pair of hip-hugger bell bottom dungarees while sporting one of Illya’s long black wigs and a false fu-manchu moustache. Completing his ensemble, a red bandana tied round his forehead and a pair of rose colored glasses rested on the bridge of his nose. He refused to wear sandals as those were Illya’s preference and not his, instead he chose a pair of soft deer skin moccasins to complete his disguise.

Solo carefully parted a brightly colored beaded curtain that hung in the doorway of the bedroom he was going to search; he'd had no success in locating his quarry anywhere else in the rundown house.

The air was heavy with the scent of marijuana and he tried not to breathe in too deeply, lest it affect him. He scanned the room, looking for Dr. Arthur Ringwald’s youngest daughter of seventeen, whose name was Priscilla. She'd fallen in with a wild crowd and run away. The good doctor, a friend of Waverly’s, had turned to him for help.

The agent spotted the girl huddled in a corner; a young man with his arms wrapped around her, nuzzling her neck.

“Don’t you think she’s a little young for you buddy?” Napoleon politely lifted his arms away from her.

“Hey name's not Buddy it's Stu and what’s the hassle? We’re all the same...one with the universe. Dig that music, 'Dandelion Wine', man. Heavy, right?"

“Yeah, right.” Solo pushed the obviously drug addled fellow aside and reaching out to the girl, he produced a few daisies from behind his back, and offered them to her.

“Pretty flowers for a pretty girl. Do you like them?” Solo asked, though he had to raise his voice to be heard over the psychedelic music being played on a stereo.

“Yeah, they're really pretty.” She was high as a kite and Napoleon had to admit the cloud of smoke from the pot was getting to him, making feel strange.

“Would you like more? I have plenty more where they came from and lots of other things to turn you on, if that's what you're into."

“Where?” The auburn-haired girl asked innocently; her pupils dilated from the marijuana and who knew what else she’d taken.

“My place. Why don’t you come with me Priscilla?"

“You have anything to eat there? I have the munchies real bad. I could like, pig-out man."

Napoleon chuckled. “Oh I have lots of food. I have a friend who likes to eat and stops by all the time."

He helped the girl to her feet, removing the piece of drug paraphernalia she held in her hand. This was going better than he thought it would.

“Hey dude, you said I was a little old for her but maaan, you’re like practically ancient. Why don’t you leave her be and go find a chick your own age?” Stu protested, apparently more sober now, grabbed Napoleon by the leg.

"What did you say before Stu...we're all one with the universe, right?" He pulled his Special from his shoulder holster, hidden beneath his vest, and discreetly knocked the guy out with a sleep dart.

“Come on Priscilla, let’s go.”

“Sure dude, whatever you say. I like your hair it's cool. What's your name?" She followed him without any resistance.

"Napoleon, my name is Napoleon."

"Wow that's heavy man, a seriously righteous name. Hey, I like your hair, it's cool," she repeated herself.

"I'll be sure to tell the friend I borrowed it from that you said so," he chuckled.

"You got a joint?"

"Just follow me, I have everything you want," he ushered her along.

She stopped for a second, staring at him intently." Hey you're not the fuzz are you?"

"Do I look like a pig?" He hoped he'd used that vernacular correctly.

"Nah. You're old but you don't look like a cop."

He wasn't sure if he was insulted by that or not.

Once outside the house, Priscilla was seen to an awaiting U.N.C.L.E. van and carted off to headquarters to be treated for whatever drugs were in her system before she would be returned to her father.

As Solo walked into reception from Del Floria’s to pick up his ID his badge; Wanda did a double take.

“Well aren’t you just groovy,” she chuckled.”Not exactly your classiest look Napoleon.”

“Don’t remind me. Hey this doesn't make me look old does it...never mind, don't answer that." He removed the moustache, along with the wig and glasses as he headed straight up to medical to make sure the pot-filled air hadn’t affected him. After a being given a clean bill of health he stopped by to see his partner as the Russian had been confined to medica,l having been diagnosed with pneumonia.

“You look attractive,”Illya remarked, eyeing Solo’s get up.“I take it my wig and other accoutrements helped... Achoo!”

“Gesundheit.”

“Danke,” Illya reached for a tissue to wipe his his nose; coughing to clear his throat. ”So I assume it went well?”

“Piece of cake, though I really wouldn’t relish such an undercover role again like this one, I’d prefer to leave those to an expert such as yourself, while I play the bon vivant playboy attired a nicely fitted tux."

“Not happy without your expensive suit and shoes I take it.”

“No not really. My feet are killing me from these moccasins.”

“And now you know why I wear flip-flops,” Illya chuckled.

“But are they really that cool?”

“Yes they keep my feet quite cool and comfortable.”

“Not what I meant,” Napoleon chuckled,”but That's groovy, man."