First … Mission Prep, Part 1

Time frame: Pre-series

Part of the FIRSTS series; continuation of First … Meeting

~mfu~

Once they left Waverly's office, Solo and Kuryakin didn't have the chance to continue their conversation because the halls were busy. Solo greeted everyone with a nod.

Kuryakin, mortified at his less-than-professional interaction with Alexander Waverly and the engaging Solo, walked a half-pace behind the latter and close to the wall in an effort to be inconspicuous. His tactic wasn't entirely successful as almost everyone eyed him with either curiosity or suspicion.

As they neared the elevator that would take them to Section III, Napoleon stopped abruptly. Illya promptly bumped into him.

Kuryakin blushed lightly. "Please forgive me. I should have been paying closer attention." Despite his embarrassment, he was pleased that Solo, though of average size, was powerfully built. This would bode well for them both should things go badly.

Napoleon, surprised that Kuryakin was unexpectedly solid as reinforced concrete, smiled an apology. "My fault. I shouldn't have stopped so suddenly."

Illya's lips twitched on deciding to use humor to diffuse their discomfort in the invasion of personal space. "You are forgiven – this time," he said with the tiniest hint of playfulness.

Solo chuckled. "How magnanimous of you, Illya."

"'We should be too big take offense and too noble to give it.'"

Napoleon stared in amazement at Illya. He may have finally found someone who could match wits with him. "Are many Russians able to quote Abraham Lincoln?"

"It is likely most of my countrymen do not even know who President Lincoln was."

"Well, just for that, I'll treat you to lunch. That's why I stopped. I'm too hungry to work on planning the mission. How about you?"

Illya was ravenous, though he wouldn't admit it. "I could eat."

"Follow me, my new friend."

Illya grinned to himself; he had never expected an American to call him friend. Perhaps he could consider Napoleon a friend one day; he hadn't felt this comfortable or let his guard down around anyone for a very long time. Solo looked at him not with misgiving and hatred but appraisal and welcoming.

oOo

The commissary was quiet after the lunch rush so there was no waiting in line, for which Kuryakin was grateful. The choices were plentiful, more so than what he was accustomed to in those European stations that provided food.

"Napoleon, I am curious. Food is without charge at other bases. Why must one pay here?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Solo replied, "When I said I'd treat you, it was a different way of inviting you to join me."

"I understand. I have much to learn about American idiomatic phrases."

"I suppose I could say the same about Russian phrases."

"Indeed. An appropriate one would be, Don't feed me bread, because any chance I get, I will eat whatever I want."

"And is there meaning beyond the obvious?"

"Yes. Don't feed me bread signifies that what follows is what one has a strong and passionate desire to do or for something."

"In that case, I suggest you should fill your tray with whatever you want to eat." Solo signaled Illya to go first.

Watching the wide-eyed Russian pile his tray high with numerous culinary delights made Napoleon think of a kid in a candy shop. "You know you can come back for more," he said as a half-question.

"That is my plan," Illya replied as he balanced a carrot cake muffin on the huge pile on his tray.

"Good thing the food is free; otherwise, you'd have to take out a loan against your next three paychecks." Napoleon, chortling, went for soup, salad, and a half-sandwich.

"May we sit anywhere?"

"Yep. No reservations needed here. You choose."

Out of survival habit, Illya selected a table that allowed him to see all entrances into the seating area. He had learned at an early age that no place was truly safe.

Napoleon nodded his approval when Illya looked back at him. The American was becoming increasingly assured that his fellow agent had well-honed spy skills.

Illya settled into his chair then quickly tucked a napkin in the collar of his shirt. His next tuck was into the small mountain of food.

Solo ignored his own repast, too enthralled in watching Illya devour and still appearing to savor every morsel. He reached for a stray french fry, but stopped when Illya looked up, giving him a threatening glare.

"Please eat your own food. Also, I prefer not to engage in conversation while I eat."

Napoleon sat back, an agreeable smile on his face. He turned to his own food and enjoyed it and the entertainment that was Kuryakin in dedicated consuming mode.

oOo

In his guest quarters after the meal, Illya stated, "While I am fresh, I will modify some standard charges. I have found they can be improved but the change in a standard is sometimes slow. It is not necessary for you to accompany me."

"No, no, this I want to see. Do you mind?"

Kuryakin gave Napoleon a small, reserved smile. "I would be honored." With that, he withdrew a lighted head magnifier and a tri-fold pouch of worn brown leather from his carry-on. "Shall we?"

For some reason, Napoleon wasn't surprised that Kuryakin carried his own tools with him.

oOo

Illya, his face lit up like a bright sun, explained what he was doing while doing it and never once faltered or hesitated. Napoleon thought the man's over-sized – considering his compact frame – hands were like a well-rehearsed ballet troupe. And from what he knew about explosives, he knew Illya's modifications were big improvements.

Kuryakin finished the sixth charge and said, "I believe that will be enough. If needed, I will do more."

"Ah, can – may I ask a few questions?"

"Of course."

"Where and when did you learn to do this?" Immediately, Napoleon knew he had touched an open nerve at Illya's withdrawal to frigid blankness.

The Russian, as rigid as a statue, replied, "In the Soviet Union. I have been doing this for … a while. There is nothing more you need to know on this matter."

Napoleon nodded amicably, making note to avoid asking this intriguing person about his past. And eating his food.

the end

© 2018

Continues in First … Mission Prep, Part 2

Thanks to CoriKay for her beta – excellent as always.

Prompts for 03.26.2018 Section VII Short Affair Challenge: devour and brown