azdak: Face of Klimt's Music II (Default)
azdak ([personal profile] azdak) wrote2010-09-23 12:19 pm
Entry tags:

MfU Fic: America

Gen, 456 words, pure fluff, mostly harmless.

For [personal profile] sarlania.

The bus was pulling into the first stop after Pittsburgh when the hairs rose on the back of Illya's neck and told him they were under surveillance. He leaned his head back against the seat and half-closed his eyes. A quick scan of the passengers revealed a girl a couple of rows up, staring intently at Napoleon. As Illya watched, she leaned against the young man sitting next to her, who was busily scribbling into a notebook, and whispered into his ear. The boy looked across at Napoleon and his dark eyes widened.

"Well?" the girl murmured.

The boy's answer was indistinct, but Illya nonetheless made out "... camera in his bow tie ..." and groaned inwardly. Not for the first time, he wished Napoleon had a less – what was the word? – sophisticated? No, not that. Sophomoric. That was it. A less sophomoric taste in disguises.

The Thrush scientist sitting three rows down from them had heard the young man as well. He looked round in alarm, his eyebrows lifting as he caught the full splendour of Napoleon's bow tie.

"Why don't you just wear a Groucho Marx nose and be done with it?" Illya said, sotto voce, as he got to his feet. The Thrush scientist was scrambling down the aisle, pushing passengers out of the way in his haste to get off.

Napoleon looked at him over the horn rims of his spectacles. "Why, how rude," he said, so loudly that the entire bus could hear him. "You certainly get all types on these Greyhounds."

"Tell me about it," said the driver. "The best and the worst of America, that's what I always say." He extended a long arm and blocked the scientist's way. "There's folks ahead of you, buddy."

Illya, sidling up next to their target, fired a discreet sleep dart into the man's backside and caught him as he crumpled.

"I think he's just had a little too much to drink," he said. "My friend and I will see to him."

Between them, he and Napoleon manhandled the scientist off the bus. As it drove off, Illya saw the boy with the notebook staring out of the window, but not, apparently, at them. He was leaning his head against the glass with a faraway look in his eyes.

"I think we got away with it," said Illya, "in spite of that dreadful bow tie of yours. Can't Section VIII come up with something a little less ostentatious?"

"Of course we got away with it. A very smooth operation, if I do say so myself. No one will ever even know we were on the bus."

"What was that boy writing down, anyway? I saw you glance in his notebook on the way out."

"Some kind of tune," said Napoleon. "You should try to keep that paranoid streak in check, you know. Civilians never see past a good disguise."

For those going "Huh?"