THE FLUFF AND NONSENSE
AFFAIR
"What are you looking so smug about?" Napoleon
Solo asked his partner who had offered---no, insisted---that he would spend the night in Napoleon's penthouse in
case he needed help in his depleted condition.
"I am sorry, Napoleon," Illya Kuryakin said.
"I am merely smiling at the irony. You return from
"Probably planted in my way by a THRUSH
double-Agent!" the American grumbled, hobbling to his sofa, collapsing on
it with abandon.
His smile firmly in place, the younger Agent delicately
lifted Solo's ace-bandaged right foot and slid a pillow underneath it.
Grabbing a second pillow from the bedroom, he used it to prop up Napoleon's
back.
"Comfy?"
"Yes, Nurse. Thank
you," Solo said, looking for all the world like a reclining Pasha.
"Here, drink this. It
will put hair on your chest and make a real
man out of you," the blond brought him a tall, chilled glass of...
"Chocolate milk...?" Napoleon said with a turned
up nose.
"You are not supposed to drink anything stronger with
the pain pills you took."
Napoleon's nose stayed upturned as he ventured a sip of the
creamy brown liquid, finding it surprisingly satisfying. "Okay, what
are your dire plans for me this evening?"
"You are the invalid," Illya pointed out.
"What would you like to
do? And no, I am not going to pimp for you!"
"Fine, be that way. How about a game of
Monopoly? No wait. Last time we played you used your miserly
tactics and bought up every block and every hotel!"
Illya grinned, thoroughly pleased with himself.
"We could play Poker..."
Solo suggested next.
"How about a rousing game of
Twister?"
Napoleon glared at the Russian.
"How about we play house? You be the door and I'll slam you!"
"If you can catch me..." the blond stuck his
tongue.
"You
insolent...bugaboo!"
"Bugaboo!" Illya choked out a laugh. "I have been
called many things but that is by far the most inventive!"
"Which is why I am better at playing Scrabble than you
are!"
"Is that a fact?"
"That, Mr.
Kuryakin, is a challenge."
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Hours later, the international spies were ready to call it a
day. Dressed in their pajamas, they each crawled onto their half of
Solo's king-sized bed.
"Thank you for baby-sitting me tonight, Illya,"
Napoleon said as they lay side-by-side in the dark. "It makes the
pain more bearable, having you here..."
"You would do the same for me, da?"
"Da. I would do the
same for you."
"Of course I would never be
so clumsy as to trip over a cord..."
"I just thought of another
inventive word to call you," Napoleon said, leaning over the blond
threateningly.
"Da...?" Illya's cold
blue eyes stared back in the moonlight, his chin raised high in defiance.
Solo had to laugh. He was
taller, more solidly built, and he was the Chief Enforcement Agent for all of
North America, yet the shorter, slighter underling forever stood his ground
against all comers with the tenacity of a terrier. Because of this, there
was no one else Napoleon would rather have fighting in his corner.
"‘Friend’," Solo
concluded. "You are my best
friend..."
"What a coincidence," Illya smiled back.
"You are mine as well!"
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