WORD COUNT: 720
DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I borrow them once in awhile, but put them away tidily.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is sparky955‘s birthday present. I am sorry it is sooooo late. She asked for the boys on the boat.
Napoleon Solo looked out of his penthouse window. Even though it was eight in the morning it was almost as dark as night, and raining, no it was pouring. And as if to make a point, a large bolt of lighting flashed across the sky.
So much for his long planned weekend trip with Illya on Pursang.
It had taken months to find a time when Waverly would give them both the weekend off. And all week the weatherman had been saying both Saturday and Sunday would be picture perfect.
Yeah, Solo thought as he stared out of the window. But the weatherman never said a picture of what.
Napoleon heard the toilet flush and turned to see Illya making his way down the hall.
“I am sorry, partner mine, it looks like our voyage is off.” Napoleon said as he gestured to the window. “I think we are having a hurricane.”
Illya padded over to the window and looked out, just as another flash of lighting lit up the sky.
“That is alright Napoleon. I had enough of voyaging in the navy.”
“Oh, but a trip on Pursang would be so like heaven on water.”
Illya wandered over to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“All right, Napoleon. Describe it. Dazzle me.”
"Well." Napoleon said warming quickly to the idea of a vicarious voyage.
“First we would load up the boat with the food and lots of vodka. Then we would set sail, north I think, to a quiet cove I know. After a few hours, you could take over the tiller and I would bring us some lunch.
We would sail leisurely along till about four o’clock when we would anchor in the cove. We would unpack the food and vodka. We would slowly eat and drink until the sun set and the stars came out. Then I would take you down to the v- berth and make slow sweet love with you until dawn.”
Illya took another sip of coffee and said, “We have plenty of food and vodka here. We could set up a fan and I could occasionally splash you with water. It would have the same effect.”
“You just don’t get it, Illya.” Solo said, with a crestfallen look on his face.
“Get what?” Illya said obtusely.
“Never, mind.” Napoleon said. "I am going out for the paper." He grabbed his coat and left the apartment.
Illya sat sipping his coffee, his face impassive.
Several hours passed, and Napoleon had not returned. Illya went into the bedroom and threw some of his and Napoleon's clothes into his Russian navy duffle. He went to the kitchen and nearly emptied the contents of the refrigerator into two brown bags. Hefting the duffle over his shoulder, he picked up the two bags and made his way from the apartment to the elevator.
The elevator stopped at the main floor. Illya made his way across the lobby and out the front door.
He got into a cab and said to the cabbie, “West 79th Street Boat Basin please.”
A short time later, Illya was deposited at the marina. The rain had slowed considerably, but Illya could still hear faint rumbles of thunder in the distance.
He made his way to dock 11, slip 2. There Pursang sat, tugging at her moorings in the water. A light shone through a porthole.
Illya carefully made his way on board. Napoleon feeling someone on deck came to the hatch and lifted the rain flap.
“Oh. It is you.” he said quietly.
“Napoleon, I am getting wet and more importantly so is the food.”
Illya tossed the duffle bag below, and followed carefully with the groceries. He put the bags in the galley and secured the rain flap.
Turning back, he walked over the Napoleon. He wrapped his arms around him and kissed him.
“I am sorry I was flippant, Napoleon. I know how much she means to you.”
“I thought you were tired of voyaging.”
“Never with you, Napoleon.”
“Well, I don’t think the storm is going to let up.”
"Good." Illya said. “I brought plenty of food and vodka. And if there is a storm, no one will notice Pursang rocking when you make slow sweet love to me in the v-berth.”