*insert Cold War pun* Man From U.N.C.L.E

[rodakemopetojoen]

Alright folks, I’ve never done this before and you can probably tell that I don’t tend to post my fan-fiction much, mostly because I ship weird things and don’t really know what I’m doing- but hey! There’s a first time for everything!

So I few months ago an old friend and I decided that the new Man From U.N.C.L.E film was a must-see due to the high concentration of attractive human beings in the film. I’ve never seen the original stuff related to The Man From U.N.C.L.E, so I do apologise to any real fans who I may offend XD I really liked the film and, well, one thing led to another and I ended up drafting in my friend (who knows about the fetish, is a good writer, and loved the film as much as I did) to help me write a silly little story about it.

It is, as you will discover, complete nonsense XD It’s based on the idea of an imaginary mission set in a cold place, and the rest is pretty much obvious. It’s also full of spoofy references to the film, because I’m a sillius soddus.

Sorry that this is here so very late after the film came out, but it couldn’t be helped hahaha XD

OH YEAH! And before I forget sorry there isn’t an awful lot of sneezing in the first bit.

Here we go! Oh dear this is scary... *has a little nervous breakdown* :

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There was no time to lose, with each passing second the French were drawing ever closer, and naturally it would only be a matter of time before they caught up with them and enforced whatever unspeakable consequences they had prepared for the two agents. Intense interrogation was likely, with the chance of a little bit of torture if things really got ugly. Illya was all too aware of this as he stood a few paces away from his partner, nervously looking out on high alert as Solo attempted to make sense of the door to the secretly located bunker, belonging to the enemy and (evidently, from their orders to break into the proximity) containing something invaluable- and most importantly, well guarded. As his partner agent blinked a torch around the seal of the door, desperately trying to find opportunities to penetrate it, Illya scanned the snowy landscape anxiously. He rubbed his arms unconsciously and shivered, feeling the bite of the wintry air, and more than a little run-down.

What had he missed? Solo banged his fist against the door as hard as he dared while trying to stick to the orders of ‘keeping a low profile’. He threw down his flashlight in frustration and watched it bury itself into the increasingly deep snow. Why wouldn’t the damn thing open? He’d performed all the usual tricks on the lock, and could’ve sworn he’d heard the sharp click of the bolts sliding apart, yet the door would still not budge. For a moment he had an inkling of an idea of why the door might be jammed, but his train of thought was interrupted when he heard something behind him.

“HAP’TxxCH!”

Solo allowed himself a glance over his shoulder, in time to see Illya covering his nose with his scarf and muffling another couple of sneezes. He frowned, unsure of what to make of this. His partner was too busy holding his nose firmly, as if to prevent himself from sneezing again, to notice that Solo had even heard him, let alone been momentarily distracted from what he was doing. He turned back to face the door, and pretended to be fully occupied with assessing the mechanisms of the lock, though his mind was still on his companion, who he thought, with no small amount of concern, looked tired and unhappy. He only hoped that Illya wasn’t getting sick. Another thought struck him: the mission could suffer as a result. But that still wasn’t the thing which concerned him the most... He had felt a twinge of worry about his partner’s wellbeing before he’d even considered the effect it could have on their work. This was simply unnerving...and more unsettling still: this wasn’t the first time recently he’d thought of Illya before he’d thought of the things he knew he should consider more important.

With Solo’s back turned, Illya rubbed his aching head with his gloved hand. He would never admit to feeling this awful, though it was hard not to let it show. With any luck, this whole operation would be over quickly and then he could retreat to his hotel room and hide there until this cold he was coming down with had passed. Nobody had to know. Given their current state of progress, however, this did not seem to be a likely prospect.

“It’s frozen shut!” Solo hissed as he turned to look at Illya. “You gotta help me get this thing open.”

llya didn’t reply but nodded, head foggy, and followed Solo’s example by pressing himself against the door trying to help to force it open. The thick metal bit their skin, so much so that it was even felt through their winter clothing. Solo’s hands blistered and burned as he ran them vigorously along the seal of the door, trying not to hiss with the pain, trying to let the friction create enough heat to melt the ice around the edges. It appeared to be working as water trickled from the sides of the door, and it gave a little when Illya pushed with all his strength, which admittedly, was considerably less impressive than usual.

Solo looked over at his partner, frowning light heartedly at the effort he seemed to have to put in. He raised an eyebrow, “You okay there, Peril? You seem a little...”

Illya grunted, “I am fine, can we please carry on?”

“Well I’m just saying you look like you need a little help there, Super Agent-”

“No. I am fine.”

A small smile crept onto Solo’s face, and he said whilst turning back to the door, “Well it’s just that this doesn’t seem like that famous ‘Russian Way’-”

Illya glared at him, Solo turning to him, trying as best he could to look innocent, “What?”

Illya went back to pushing at the door, “Do not pretend to understand the Russian Way...”

Solo rolled his eyes, “Oh for god’s sakes...”

Suddenly, the door opened with a jolt, them both falling through it. They tried to untangle themselves from each other, them both flapping about in a rather flustered manner. Once Solo was up he turned to direct some hard words at the Russian, but stopped when he saw him slowly trying to steady himself, a pang of pity passing through him. Something unknown to him stirred in his heart and he could not be angry at his partner for much longer. His mind was made up when Illya looked up at him, brilliant blue into brilliant blue...

No sarcasm. Not yet anyway.

Illya looked at the hand offered to him by the American. He took it, shaking his head of the dizziness, returning the smile Solo gave him with a brisk nod. As Solo’s fingertips slid away from his grasp, he felt a pang of disappointment, unconsciously stricken by the bizarre desire to remain close to him for a little longer. He brushed away the thought as best he could.

Without another word, they shone the torch along the harsh concrete walls of the corridor before them. Solo covered the end of the torch with his hand to dim its light, conscious of the fact there might be guards round every corner. Illya crept along behind Solo, coughing uncontrollably- as quietly as he could, though this wasn’t much help. Solo winced at the sound, but he knew he couldn’t give in to the suddenly overwhelming pity. Even if the Russian tried to deny it, as Solo knew he would, he evidently wasn’t at his best. He waited until Illya looked at him to raise his index finger to his lips, signalling for him to be quiet, and between stifled coughs they continued to creep along in the dark.

After a few minutes they reached the end of tunnel, Solo peering round the corner, signalling desperately for Illya to stop as the Russian got closer. The taller agent lightened his step and looked over Solo’s shoulder. They were lucky, he supposed, there was only one guard. He could easily be taken care of. He rubbed his eyes. But more would follow, and his head hurt so much...

“Peril!” Solo hissed, having registered his partner’s apparent lapse in concentration. He needed to get a signal to him: Illya was the only one who could knock the guard unconscious without resulting in their capture, but he didn’t exactly look up for the task.

Illya looked up, dazed. He frowned. Why was Solo blowing a kiss at him? His heart pounded, with a few other emotions other than surprise at Solo’s gesture. Was he imagining this? He shook his head. “What?” he mouthed, with an expression of the utmost confusion.

Solo frowned at him back, and then started to do some kind of... arm dance? Illya suddenly nodded in recognition, now understanding his American counterpart, and blew a kiss back with a wink so as to suggest that he’d been kidding all along. Solo scowled at him, Illya creeping past to align himself behind the guard to perform ‘the Kiss’.

The American watched, ready to spring at any moment just in case, as Illya swung his right arm once, twice – Crack! Solo sighed and came out into the light, straightening his cuffs as he looked out through the entrance the guard was supposed to be watching from. He turned to Illya, “I’m guessing this guy’s friends will be coming along soon, we shouldn’t spend too long at this.”

“What you telling me for Cowboy? The safe’s all yours.”

Illya laughed at his friend’s scowl, as Solo pulled the safe breaking gear from his pockets and said, “Just do your job, Peril.”

“Make sure there aren’t any alarms this time.”

Solo merely narrowed his eyes at him, fixing part of his machine to the safe wall and putting the earphones in. He glanced over his shoulder as he began the series of short, yet precise manoeuvres required to open the safe, seeing Illya turning away from him and watch the main entrance from slightly behind their unconscious guard.

After little effort, the safe swung open, and to their relief no alarm sounded. Solo crept inside, the cold of the walls and the mustiness of the room (apparently due to it having hardly been opened) sneaking into his throat, causing a few coughs to fight their way out.

As soon as he saw the blueprint, he snatched it up, and got ready to flee the safe room-

He nearly cried out in sudden fright, as immediately behind him was his Russian companion, who clamped his hand over the American’s mouth.

He whispered, “His friend’s coming back. We need to get out through the tunnel before it’s too late.”

Solo nodded, gathering up their paper hoard, and followed his partner out of the vault. The other guard was standing with his back to them talking to his friend, obviously not realising the state he was in.

Solo sped up, creeping past Illya, closer to the back tunnel. But Illya slowed. There was a tickling sensation in the back of his nose, and he pressed his hand over it to try and quell the irritation. Solo froze watching in fear... Until Illya’s hand came down again, him nodding calmly-

Suddenly, the tickling came back with a vengeance, shooting from the back of his throat to the front, resulting in an utterly unstifleable sneeze.

“HATKTSSCCHH!”

At once the conscious guard spun round, and screamed something in French into his radio communication device as he began to pursue them. Fortunately, the man stopped and turned to realise that his colleague was not conscious, which bought them a little extra time.

“Dammit, Illya! Run!” Solo yelled, and Illya didn’t hesitate to do so, though he kept one hand pressed over his lower face.

They turned as the unarmed guard shrieked into his radio again. There would be more guards to follow. Illya thought he heard a siren go off in the distance, but focused on running as fast as he possibly could, as Solo took the lead- driven partially by anger at Illya but also fear. He had a straight record; he was a proud man and didn’t want for this to be the way he died. They had been headed for the entrance they’d used to gain access to the bunker, but as they sprinted along the tunnel, Solo’s eyes fell upon a small fire-door, evidently leading to a more remote side of the complex. He did not stop to confirm with his partner, but diverted their course towards the closer exit, and pushed through the door. Security in the French Alps was very poorly organised, it seemed, yet due to his partner’s evident lack of ability to control his sneezing, they were now under serious threat. The thoughts made Solo clench his fists in frustration.

Illya, red faced, followed his partner into the blinding white of the landscape, vaguely aware of the black dots racing over the hill, but trying desperately to focus his vision on his friend in front, concentrating on the small details so that the throbbing in his head didn’t consume him; the creases in his trousers as he ran, the snow in his hair making his black hair look streaked grey, the cylindrical holder of the all-important blueprint bouncing against his back.

Shots filled the air, the partners both ducking every now and again, now running slightly crouched.

They needed a change of tactic; it was clear that running all the way back to their base wasn’t an option. He aimed for a more sheltered building, more isolated than the others in the area. It would allow them to change course unseen by the guards who were now drawing closer, fortunately still just too far away to be able to get a good shot. He turned briefly to his partner, “In here, Peril!”

Illya squinted to see the silhouette ahead- a cabin, a bunker of some kind.

He shouted back, “I see it!” And spurred on, racing to catch up with the American.

Solo’s breath was starting to mist his vision, the cold of the snow soaking through his trousers as they got closer to the bunker. He kept looking over his shoulder though, just to check Illya hadn’t been hit by one of the flying bullets, or perhaps simply collapsed. He was worried about his Russian counterpart- he could never stay angry at him for long.

He reached the bunker with a slam, nearly running full tilt into the metal door. By the time Illya had caught up with him Solo was already desperately trying to twist the wheel on the door to open it.

“Come on, help me quickly they’re gaining on us!”

Illya nodded, sniffling, and put all his strength into twisting the wheel with him. Solo looked at Illya struggling for a moment before saying, “Wrong way, Peril.”

He almost felt bad for the remark as Illya’s blue eyes seemed to fill with shame. For a special agent he really wasn’t having a very special day. Suddenly, a bullet ricocheted off the side of the metal, the two becoming wide eyed- the guards were drawing closer, they were running out of time.

As they fought to open the door, as the bullets rained down, Illya’s world went into slow motion. He could suddenly see very clearly, the snow falling, the red dot on Solo’s back-

He froze.

“Solo!”

But as the American turned, it was too late. He’d seen the marker too late.

Illya threw himself onto Solo to shove him out of the way, and did, but there was still a cry of shock, and the snow was still painted red. Illya looked into Solo’s face, which was riddled with pain, “Cowboy?!” He yelled in panic. He looked back, but the sniper seemed to have vanished and the landscape was still again. Nevertheless, the guards with shorter-ranged weapons would soon catch up with them

He nodded, “I’m fine, just my shoulder...make sure these get back safely.” He tried to shove the plans to him, but Illya’s face grew stony. Not today.

With almost superhuman strength, the Russian machine powered the wheel round as if it were a toy, flinging the heavy door open and almost throwing his friend through.

Within a minute they were both inside, the door closed and everything bolted. Illya looked at Solo, who was staring in awe at him.

No one would get left behind. Not today.

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PS I wasn’t expecting it to be this cliff-hanger-ish, but I’ll post some more chapters soon if this gets any interest!

[Bruyere]

Thanks for sharing this! I really enjoyed the first section and I hope you do post more, especially given that ending!

I can't c&p my favourite parts because I'm using a tablet and it's a nightmare but I loved the nods to the film and I adore the spelling of Illya's stifle. <3 <3 so good!

[rodakemopetojoen]

Thanks so much Bruyere, I'm really glad you liked it

[Vongola Undicesimo]

YES! I love this movie and this ship and this fic! This totally cheered me up and I hope there'll be more!

[RiversD]

Ahh, file this under things I meant to reply to aaaages ago, but haven't because I am Trash.

This is really cute! And funny, too. I liked how your dialogue kept up their awkward walls of pride.

Illya went back to pushing at the door, “Do not pretend to understand the Russian Way...”

Okay, I snickered.

I really liked how you showed that Illya wasn't working at full brain capacity, and that Solo was starting to pick up on it but giving him a bye because he would so obviously feel terrible if it was brought up.

Ah, I have a tiny soft spot for "okay, the sneeze has gone... oh crud, no it hasn't." moments.

I also have a much larger soft spot for both injury/injury caretaking and for people who go above and beyond their current 'limits' if someone they care about is in danger, so... that ending was good for me. Yes.

[rodakemopetojoen]

Ahh, file this under things I meant to reply to aaaages ago, but haven't because I am Trash

Haha that's alright XD thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Seeing it appear at the top again was a surprise, I'd almost forgotten I'd written this, so it was nice to hear someone's still enjoying it