Illya Kuryakin had been in the United States about three months and partnered with Napoleon Solo for the last one. His jury was still out when it came to the American. His habit was to fall back on manners, respect for authority and discipline when feeling unsure. He was used to his UNCLE superiors in Europe treating him respectfully, but definitely as a subordinate. Agent Solo was unlike any other UNCLE agent he had met. He was the consummate professional in the field, but his demeanor with Illya when they were in the office or not on a mission was easygoing and relaxed. He treated him as an equal.
The blond was sitting in his little one bedroom apartment in Greenwich Village one Saturday morning sipping a cup of tea and reading a copy of the Russian language newspaper The Russian Bazaar when his telephone rang. Only Agent Solo calls me on the phone. He wouldn't even have bothered getting a phone except the CEA insisted he should be able to reach him without having to constantly resort to the communicator, especially for non – work related issues. He picked up the receiver and said gruffly, "Da?"
A chuckle came through the line. "You're not a morning person, are you?" Napoleon sounded amused and Illya could picture him sitting at his kitchen table in his decadent penthouse drinking coffee out of a fine china cup. "Are you dressed?"
"Yes. Do we have an assignment?"
"Yes and no. We do have to fly out on assignment, but not until Monday afternoon. Housekeeping Services contacted me because you haven't responded to their requests for your shopping lists. They don't know how to stock you kitchen."
"I have not responded again because I have already told them what I desire and they have not stocked anything."
"All you told them was tea, raspberry jam, bread, coffee and cold cuts. Beyond the fact that you included no brand names, that can't be all you eat."
"I am used to eating less than that."
"I refuse to have a scrawny underfed partner. I will be there in an hour to take you to the supermarket. You pick out what you want and from now on, Housekeeping will make sure you always have it."
An hour later found the two men in an A&P on Ninth Avenue going up and down the aisles, one pointing animatedly at the products while the other sullenly tossed things into the cart. "Illya, take advantage of the fact that you can try different things and brands! Look! See how many brands of coffee there are? And breads?"
Illya rolled his eyes. "Agent Solo…"
"What did I tell you about that?"
"Napoleon, I am just not used to this. When I was in school in London and Paris, the KGB provided barely enough money for me to eat. Working out of the UNCLE London office I just never really enjoyed British cuisine. I have learned not to really care about food's quality, only its availability."
Napoleon stopped walking and turned to face his partner. "Illya, listen to me. You are an UNCLE agent, you're in America and most importantly, you are my partner. You will never eat poor quality food in my company and you will always have good food stocked in your pantry. That's an order." He grinned as he clapped the smaller man's shoulder. "Let's finish this up so we can get out of here."
They approached the cashier with Illya's cart filled to the brim with food, paper products and cleaning items. He was loathe to admit it, but the Russian was pleased that he had so many food items that he had always felt were too decadent for him to have. He secretly admired the way his partner confidently strode the aisles imparting his knowledge about American brands and different foods and how to prepare them. As he moved items from his cart to the conveyor belt he thought, This partnership may work after all.