Word Count: 1114
Prompt: #33 record
It’s Napoleon turn to go undercover and he is not happy with the disguise. Illya can’t stop laughing. Thanks to Sprikesgirl for the fast clean up.
“I just can’t do this,” Napoleon said throwing the assignment folder on the desk and himself into the chair. “I do not care what Waverly thinks. This is not an assignment I can handle.”
Illya’s eyes were sparkling with laughter, although he was trying to prevent it from spilling over into the open.
“And you,” Napoleon accused. “‘I agree Mr. Waverly, Napoleon would be perfect for the role.’ How could you?”
“Well, I cannot pull it off as you can. My accent would give it away, but I know you can handle it,” Illya explained. “Besides he is an American singer, and I am sure you and one of your many dates have seen his movies. I am sure that they have a records of his music in Section Eight so you can lip-sync it. I will call for some of his records if you would like.” The last few words were accented with a few chuckles escaping.
“No! No one else can know about this.” Shaking his head, he couldn’t believe it was getting worse and worse.
“And I am willing to help you get his movements down,” Illya offered now openly laughing rotating his hips.
“Oh my God, his moves. Illya, my body doesn’t gyrate like that. Surely Mr. Waverly can find someone else.” Napoleon now had his head buried in his hands.
“Napoleon, I do not understand you. I have had to perform in all types of roles. Let’s see: seasick sailor, penal colony prisoner, an American Indian, abominable snowman, and even a Nazi war criminal. I do not remember you suggesting I not play those roles.”
“But, I don’t even listen to his music. I’m too much older than him to complete this assignment.” Napoleon suddenly brightened up.
“You are only two and a half years older than him. Besides when they get though with your disguise, no one will know the difference even when we walk out of the building.” Illya rubbed it in a little more.
The groan coming from the American ended as the phone rang.
“Kuryakin here.” Illya listened for a few minutes and then said, “I will inform Mr. Solo, sir. I’m sure he will be there in a few minutes.”
Napoleon looked at his partner with the eyes of a deer caught in headlights.
“I’m to drop off the records so you can hear them while they are working on you before picking up your costume so Mr. Waverly can see the total effect. Any specific request?”
“A gun would be nice.” Knowing his fate was sealed, he began to rise. “You know you don’t have to enjoy this so much."
Illya entered the studio where Napoleon was being made up he could hear his partner complaining about the makeup and the record which was playing loudly in the background as the stylist loved the music.
“Mr. Waverly will not be happy if you don’t finish up soon,” the Russian teased.
Illya had to admit when picking out the costume; he went for one of the brightest and most decorated one he could find. It wasn’t often that Napoleon had to dress up to play an undercover part and the opportunity to see his partner in this one was not something he wanted to pass up.
Seeing the clothes being offered to him, Napoleon blanched and began to sputter. “I can’t be seen in those.”
“This is one of his most famous outfits. Now, I would hurry, Napoleon. Mr. Waverly will be here for a final look at you in a few minutes.” Illya’s smile spreading across his face.
“You know, the next time we have a mission that someone needs to go incognito, I will be picking out your outfit.” Napoleon threatened.
“Napoleon, I have had so many strange covers that nothing you can dream up would be worse than what I have worn already.”
“Is there a problem here, Mr. Solo? I expected you to be ready to go,” Waverly’s voice boomed over the record.
“No, sir. I’ll dress immediately.” Taking the clothes, he gave his partner a killing look.
In a number of languages, complaints and threats were coming from the dressing room as Napoleon dressed. As he exited the room, he shot another glance at Illya daring him to say a word.
“Yes, I think that will work well, Mr. Solo. You should be able to get in, perform the act, and out of the club without too much trouble so that Mr. Kuryakin can retrieve the information. Is that everything, Mr. Kuryakin?”
“We will need a few photos of Napoleon for the file in case we ever need it again,” Illya informed his boss and partner with a twinkle in his eyes that suggested an idea was forming that Napoleon won’t appreciate.
Suddenly the significance of what that idea was came to Napoleon. “I swear, Illya, if the pictures show up anyplace in this building beside the file, you won’t have to worry about living to your retirement. I’ll personally see that you’re permanently retired.”
“Mr. Solo, please get on with it. I’ve other things to do, and you need to get to your location on time.” Waverly gave his CEA an inpatient look.
Napoleon stood before the camera, a look of doom on his face. After the first couple were taken, Illya pulled out a cloak.
“You can’t be serious. I don’t need to wear that also, do I?”
The expression on the Old Man’s face left no doubt that the cloak was to be worn. The finished pictures were turned over to Waverly, who nodded and said they would do. He handed them to Illya as he left. After Waverly was gone he allowed the smile to now turning into a smirk.
Napoleon grabbed them out of his hand, took a look and began to groan.
“I’ll never get another date,” he complained.
“Actually I think they are becoming. It is time to get moving so I have enough time to go over the moves with you.”
“Don’t do me any favors, partner!” Napoleon answered grabbing the file and shoving the pictures into them.
The banter continued and neither knew that two pictures slipped out of the file and on to the floor of the studio.
As they were walking out of the building, Illya turned and said.
“Napoleon remember the day you carried me out of that cell wrapped in tape (Agent Surprise).”
“Yes, and what does that have to do with this?”
“I told you that you would not know when and where but I would make you pay. I think this makes us even.” Laughing, Illya led the way out to the car.
pictures from Hustle, Big Daddy's Calling.