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vysila.livejournal.com) wrote in
crack_van2004-03-14 09:11 pm
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Two Spies Sittin' on a Boat by N.L. Hayes and C.W. Walker (PG)
Full Title: Two Spies Sittin' on a Boat Talkin' About Sex, The Fly on the Wall Series, No. 1
Fandom: MAN FROM UNCLE
Pairing: None - Gen
Author on LJ: C.W. Walker is
st_crispins, N.L. Hayes is not on LJ
Author Website: Neither has a dedicated site, but their stories can be found at File 40
Why This Story Must Be Read:Because it's a fascinating and insightful glimpse into the heads of two very different men, who nevertheless transcend their differences to form a deep friendship and very successful working partnership.
The premise of the story sounds almost dull - two men spending a summer's evening aboard a sailboat, companionably talking and drinking. But with these guys, nothing is as it seems. They may be talking about women and sex and their different approaches to both, but it's mixed together with politics, philosophy and ethics, and seasoned with a dash of healthy competition. Their conversation ranges far and wide, demonstrating the breadth of their wit and intelligence as well as the depth of their differences, and especially, the strength of the bond between them.
There are no blazing guns or interrogations but there is plenty of tension and conflict between two friends as the liquor melts away inhibitions and loosens their tongues. The political is the personal with these guys, and this sweeping discussion proves it.
Kuryakin opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again without saying a word. He wasn’t angry, merely frustrated by a conversation that seemed to have taken on a twisted life of its own. Too much alcohol, he thought. Drunk and happy, drunk and morose — either would work. But drunk and confrontational was a bad combination, particularly when the confrontation wasn’t about fact but about the basic differences that made each of them who they were.
“The truth is,” Solo went on, “you don’t really care about who I sleep with and when. To you, all the sex is a symptom, not the disease. Need — needing someone — that’s the disease. Relationships are a weakness. You think they make me weak, vulnerable. And if I’m vulnerable, then being my partner, so are you. And that’s what you fear more than anything: to need someone. Even the thought makes you cringe.”
“I don’t fear it, because I don’t, — need someone,” Kuryakin said calmly, trying to find truth somewhere on the horizon. “But you do; you’re right about that. I hadn’t meant to imply that is a weakness, but I suppose, I do see it that way. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Now that’s the load of crap,” Solo said, but he was smiling. “I don’t know who did it — who hurt you, abandoned you — sometime, somewhere, but someone did. And you weren’t just disappointed; you were devastated.”
“Wonderful,” Kuryakin laughed, “you have a promising career as a pop psychologist. Your first book can be The Women of Thrush — Evil as a Balm For Psychic Pain. Serena can join you on the book tour. Angelique can appear with you on The Today Show. Only they’d better be prepared for a fast cut to commercial.”
“And apparently you have a future as a stand up comic,” Solo observed although he wasn’t angry or even annoyed. Illya’s response meant he’d come close.
Kuryakin sat back down and rested his head against the sharp edge of the deck. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Napoleon. You’d be disappointed.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Solo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tell me something, truthfully: what’s sex really like for you? How do you see it? What’s the best time you can remember?”
“You’re incorrigible, you know that,” Kuryakin said tiredly, eyes closed. “There’s more in life than sex. Not all joys and sorrows are linked with sex. Certainly neither my happiest nor … ” he paused, shaking his head, searching for a word that fit without being weighed down by subjective meaning, “… worst moments have involved sex. It’s just … fucking biology.” The Russian laughed at his own joke. But, knowing Solo was not to be dissuaded, he searched for an honest reply. “Sex is … escape, forgetting … everything. For just those moments, there’s nothing else. For those moments, the world is … right, perfect even. The operative word being momentary.”
“That sounds like more than simple biology.”
“No. That’s all it is — Nature’s grand design, or grand illusion, to assure perpetuation of the species. Religion, Art, Literature all try to make it more, but it’s not. It’s just … fucking biology. But to assure survival of the bipedal human, with its long gestation and totally dependent infants, we have … relationships. Without which, no one survives. And even they’re no guarantee.”
Solo shook his head. “Politics. And science. You reduce everything to politics and science.”
And you reduce it all to sex, Kuryakin thought, so we’re even.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.
Two Spies
Fandom: MAN FROM UNCLE
Pairing: None - Gen
Author on LJ: C.W. Walker is
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
Author Website: Neither has a dedicated site, but their stories can be found at File 40
Why This Story Must Be Read:Because it's a fascinating and insightful glimpse into the heads of two very different men, who nevertheless transcend their differences to form a deep friendship and very successful working partnership.
The premise of the story sounds almost dull - two men spending a summer's evening aboard a sailboat, companionably talking and drinking. But with these guys, nothing is as it seems. They may be talking about women and sex and their different approaches to both, but it's mixed together with politics, philosophy and ethics, and seasoned with a dash of healthy competition. Their conversation ranges far and wide, demonstrating the breadth of their wit and intelligence as well as the depth of their differences, and especially, the strength of the bond between them.
There are no blazing guns or interrogations but there is plenty of tension and conflict between two friends as the liquor melts away inhibitions and loosens their tongues. The political is the personal with these guys, and this sweeping discussion proves it.
Kuryakin opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again without saying a word. He wasn’t angry, merely frustrated by a conversation that seemed to have taken on a twisted life of its own. Too much alcohol, he thought. Drunk and happy, drunk and morose — either would work. But drunk and confrontational was a bad combination, particularly when the confrontation wasn’t about fact but about the basic differences that made each of them who they were.
“The truth is,” Solo went on, “you don’t really care about who I sleep with and when. To you, all the sex is a symptom, not the disease. Need — needing someone — that’s the disease. Relationships are a weakness. You think they make me weak, vulnerable. And if I’m vulnerable, then being my partner, so are you. And that’s what you fear more than anything: to need someone. Even the thought makes you cringe.”
“I don’t fear it, because I don’t, — need someone,” Kuryakin said calmly, trying to find truth somewhere on the horizon. “But you do; you’re right about that. I hadn’t meant to imply that is a weakness, but I suppose, I do see it that way. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Now that’s the load of crap,” Solo said, but he was smiling. “I don’t know who did it — who hurt you, abandoned you — sometime, somewhere, but someone did. And you weren’t just disappointed; you were devastated.”
“Wonderful,” Kuryakin laughed, “you have a promising career as a pop psychologist. Your first book can be The Women of Thrush — Evil as a Balm For Psychic Pain. Serena can join you on the book tour. Angelique can appear with you on The Today Show. Only they’d better be prepared for a fast cut to commercial.”
“And apparently you have a future as a stand up comic,” Solo observed although he wasn’t angry or even annoyed. Illya’s response meant he’d come close.
Kuryakin sat back down and rested his head against the sharp edge of the deck. “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Napoleon. You’d be disappointed.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Solo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Tell me something, truthfully: what’s sex really like for you? How do you see it? What’s the best time you can remember?”
“You’re incorrigible, you know that,” Kuryakin said tiredly, eyes closed. “There’s more in life than sex. Not all joys and sorrows are linked with sex. Certainly neither my happiest nor … ” he paused, shaking his head, searching for a word that fit without being weighed down by subjective meaning, “… worst moments have involved sex. It’s just … fucking biology.” The Russian laughed at his own joke. But, knowing Solo was not to be dissuaded, he searched for an honest reply. “Sex is … escape, forgetting … everything. For just those moments, there’s nothing else. For those moments, the world is … right, perfect even. The operative word being momentary.”
“That sounds like more than simple biology.”
“No. That’s all it is — Nature’s grand design, or grand illusion, to assure perpetuation of the species. Religion, Art, Literature all try to make it more, but it’s not. It’s just … fucking biology. But to assure survival of the bipedal human, with its long gestation and totally dependent infants, we have … relationships. Without which, no one survives. And even they’re no guarantee.”
Solo shook his head. “Politics. And science. You reduce everything to politics and science.”
And you reduce it all to sex, Kuryakin thought, so we’re even.
I hope you enjoy this story as much as I do.
Two Spies
no subject
no subject
This is one of those stories I can read over and over, and get more from it with each reading. It's a fascinating glimpse into their heads and the authors did a great job with Illya and Napoleon's voices. I love how they breach (emotional) intimacy barriers then retreat, then push through again, and how their thoughts run counterpoint to their words. It's surprising how much tension there is in this story.
Thanks
We're hoping to do another conversation again, perhaps on politics, if we can find the right premise and time in RL.
no subject