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crack_van2011-10-07 09:26 am
georgiesmith.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2011-10-07 09:26 am
Entry tags:
The Nine Lives Affair by Di T (NC-17)
Fandom: THE MAN FROM UNCLE
Pairing: Napoleon/Illya
Length: 72 KB
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dinahmt
Author Website: a lot of her stories are archived at The Chrome and Gunmetal Madhouse
Why this must be read: This is a classic story in our fandom. (And here's hoping that it hasn't been rec'ced before because I honestly did check!) It follows the events of "The Come With Me to the Casbah Affair" where Illya finds himself cold upon returning home after so much time spent in the Moroccan heat so he pulls out a space heater. In the night, he's awakened by a stray cat he'd befriended to find his apartment ablaze. While recuperating in the hospital, Illya asks Napoleon to collect any of his belongings that might have survived the fire, which is how Napoleon comes across a letter written in Russian by his partner. Recognizing his name and overcome with curiosity, Napoleon reads the letter and what he discovers changes everything. One of the distinguishing hallmarks of Di's stories is her ability to capture the established characters; in their actions, in their dialogue and their innermost thoughts, as well as setting a realistic pace for her tales to unfold. This is one of those fantastic stories that has it all - a little bit of angst, a little bit of guilt, a little bit of flirting, a little bit of hurt/comfort and a whole lot of hope.
Illya was sitting up again. He was studying a book, squinting at it without his reading glasses. Of course, they would have been lost in the fire. A half-finished bowl of soup lay on the cabinet beside him. He still wore the oxygen mask.
"Ah, feeling better?"
Off came the mask. "Much." The raspy breathing did not really back up this assertion, but Illya continued, "I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?"
"I've already done all the paperwork while you're lying around being waited on hand and foot."
Illya closed the book and rubbed his eyes; they looked red and sore. Napoleon regretted his facetious remark.
"Anything," he offered. "Don't worry about anything," he added, as Illya leaned back on the pillows. He lifted the chart from the foot of Illya's bed and studied it. "I see they're taking good care of you. How was the soup?"
Illya ignored the question. "My apartment needs to be cleared for the repairs. I've been told there is a team going in to start tomorrow. I believe most of my things are irreparably burned or smoke-damaged." He stopped a moment and took a few ragged breaths. Napoleon gently pushed the mask up to his friend's face. Illya tried to breathe slowly and deeply, but began to cough convulsively.
"Take it easy." Napoleon helped him back into an upright position. "Do you want me to go and salvage what I can?"
Illya closed his watering eyes and nodded. After a few moments fighting to contain the cough he said, "There are some things in the bedroom I hope may have survived." His voice held a note of wistfulness.
"I'll bring what I can, take your clothes to the cleaners. Don't worry."
"There is no point in replacing things unnecessarily." Illya's chin lifted slightly. The wistfulness had gone.
The Nine Lives Affair
Pairing: Napoleon/Illya
Length: 72 KB
Author on LJ:
dinahmtAuthor Website: a lot of her stories are archived at The Chrome and Gunmetal Madhouse
Why this must be read: This is a classic story in our fandom. (And here's hoping that it hasn't been rec'ced before because I honestly did check!) It follows the events of "The Come With Me to the Casbah Affair" where Illya finds himself cold upon returning home after so much time spent in the Moroccan heat so he pulls out a space heater. In the night, he's awakened by a stray cat he'd befriended to find his apartment ablaze. While recuperating in the hospital, Illya asks Napoleon to collect any of his belongings that might have survived the fire, which is how Napoleon comes across a letter written in Russian by his partner. Recognizing his name and overcome with curiosity, Napoleon reads the letter and what he discovers changes everything. One of the distinguishing hallmarks of Di's stories is her ability to capture the established characters; in their actions, in their dialogue and their innermost thoughts, as well as setting a realistic pace for her tales to unfold. This is one of those fantastic stories that has it all - a little bit of angst, a little bit of guilt, a little bit of flirting, a little bit of hurt/comfort and a whole lot of hope.
Illya was sitting up again. He was studying a book, squinting at it without his reading glasses. Of course, they would have been lost in the fire. A half-finished bowl of soup lay on the cabinet beside him. He still wore the oxygen mask.
"Ah, feeling better?"
Off came the mask. "Much." The raspy breathing did not really back up this assertion, but Illya continued, "I was wondering if you could do me a small favour?"
"I've already done all the paperwork while you're lying around being waited on hand and foot."
Illya closed the book and rubbed his eyes; they looked red and sore. Napoleon regretted his facetious remark.
"Anything," he offered. "Don't worry about anything," he added, as Illya leaned back on the pillows. He lifted the chart from the foot of Illya's bed and studied it. "I see they're taking good care of you. How was the soup?"
Illya ignored the question. "My apartment needs to be cleared for the repairs. I've been told there is a team going in to start tomorrow. I believe most of my things are irreparably burned or smoke-damaged." He stopped a moment and took a few ragged breaths. Napoleon gently pushed the mask up to his friend's face. Illya tried to breathe slowly and deeply, but began to cough convulsively.
"Take it easy." Napoleon helped him back into an upright position. "Do you want me to go and salvage what I can?"
Illya closed his watering eyes and nodded. After a few moments fighting to contain the cough he said, "There are some things in the bedroom I hope may have survived." His voice held a note of wistfulness.
"I'll bring what I can, take your clothes to the cleaners. Don't worry."
"There is no point in replacing things unnecessarily." Illya's chin lifted slightly. The wistfulness had gone.
The Nine Lives Affair