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WIP Amnesty, Day 9
After my first ConneXions in 2004, I did a whirlwind tour of a bunch of older fandoms: Starsky & Hutch, The Professionals, Man from UNCLE. This is what happened when I mashed two of those (S&H and UNCLE) together in my brain across the timeline gap between them.
Secret Agent David Starsky’s mission for the day - apart from the eternal mission of staying out of the neighborhood and away from anyone who might recognize him and tell his Ma he was skipping school - was the hunt for enemy spies. Commie spies, probably, but he knew they’d be cleverly disguised. He wasn’t going to spot somebody walking around uptown in a fur coat with a red star on his hat. David had gotten to this neighborhood by following an ordinary-looking guy from the train. The possible spy had had an odd briefcase and a nervous twitch, and David had tracked him sixteen blocks - hiding himself in crowds, ducking into doorways - before he disappeared into a tall glass building with a stern-looking doorman out front. His game of spies had faded under the uniformed guard’s glare, and David had flashed his best ‘too dumb and cute to yell at’ smile before he skedaddled.
So now he was hurrying away from that building - maybe spy headquarters? - along some avenue. He wasn’t sure which, but then it wasn’t like he was *lost*, not like he couldn’t find his way back to the trains and home. David kept an eye out for another likely suspect as he moved through the late-lunch crowds, dodging now and then just to practice. It occurred to him that maybe *he* was the spy, fleeing pursuit, carrying the secret microfilm or formula or something. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to figure who was going to come after him, stepping up his pace a little as he dodged toward an alley–-
–-And ran smack into a man coming the other way. The man grabbed at him like he was trying not to fall, but they were already going over. David thought the man was going to land on him, but he twisted somehow in midair, and they landed on their sides, the man’s arm underneath David’s shoulder. He could feel himself blushing hot - such a *klutz*! - and he started to push himself up, patting at the guy’s chest as he babbled, “I’m sorry, mister, I–-”
The man brushed his hands away, quickly, with an impatient look, pushing himself up, and David caught a glimpse of what he hadn’t quite realized he felt: a shoulder holster, the glint of a gun tucked beneath the man’s light jacket. David felt his stomach go tight, as the man got to his feet, and pulled David up as well, keeping hold of his arms with hard strong hands. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, “Are you all right?”
David blinked a couple of times, speechless. The man had a Russian accent. His pale blue eyes squeezed into a small frown as David remained silent, staring, and his shaggy blond hair was a mess, and David nodded a little, still blinking stupidly. The gun, the accent, the game had come real, and he’d stumbled onto a real Russian spy, and the longer he stood there staring, the more annoyed the man looked.
“Are you all right? Look, shouldn’t you be in school? What are you doing running around the streets?”
David opened his mouth, and found himself saying, “I’m running an errand for my mom, not that it’s any of your business.” He stuck his chin out defiantly, and wished that he was taller as yet another adult looked down at him.
The man let go of him abruptly, pushing a little so that David stumbled toward the sidewalk. It was only as his arms throbbed that he realized how tightly the man had been holding on to him, and he took another step back after he’d caught his balance, his eyes still on the spy, unblinking.
“Go on, then,” the man snapped, tugging his jacket straight. “Go home, child.”
David turned and managed three steady strides down the sidewalk before he began to run.
So that's How David Met Illya. The idea was that thereafter he became kind of obsessed with Illya, more or less stalking him--which Illya is aware of, being Illya, but not going to encourage by acknowledging--until THRUSH draws the conclusion that the boy either is someone or knows something, and grabs him, and then it's an UNCLE Affair with David Starsky as the Innocent du jour. Lots of Napoleon-and-Illya teamwork in the course of the rescue, followed by Napoleon being jealous when the kid is all grateful and awestruck at Illya afterward, and then jealous when Illya is oddly gentle about both acknowledging and deflecting the kid's crush. And then David goes home to his ma, and Napoleon and Illya have sex! The end.
Secret Agent David Starsky’s mission for the day - apart from the eternal mission of staying out of the neighborhood and away from anyone who might recognize him and tell his Ma he was skipping school - was the hunt for enemy spies. Commie spies, probably, but he knew they’d be cleverly disguised. He wasn’t going to spot somebody walking around uptown in a fur coat with a red star on his hat. David had gotten to this neighborhood by following an ordinary-looking guy from the train. The possible spy had had an odd briefcase and a nervous twitch, and David had tracked him sixteen blocks - hiding himself in crowds, ducking into doorways - before he disappeared into a tall glass building with a stern-looking doorman out front. His game of spies had faded under the uniformed guard’s glare, and David had flashed his best ‘too dumb and cute to yell at’ smile before he skedaddled.
So now he was hurrying away from that building - maybe spy headquarters? - along some avenue. He wasn’t sure which, but then it wasn’t like he was *lost*, not like he couldn’t find his way back to the trains and home. David kept an eye out for another likely suspect as he moved through the late-lunch crowds, dodging now and then just to practice. It occurred to him that maybe *he* was the spy, fleeing pursuit, carrying the secret microfilm or formula or something. He looked back over his shoulder, trying to figure who was going to come after him, stepping up his pace a little as he dodged toward an alley–-
–-And ran smack into a man coming the other way. The man grabbed at him like he was trying not to fall, but they were already going over. David thought the man was going to land on him, but he twisted somehow in midair, and they landed on their sides, the man’s arm underneath David’s shoulder. He could feel himself blushing hot - such a *klutz*! - and he started to push himself up, patting at the guy’s chest as he babbled, “I’m sorry, mister, I–-”
The man brushed his hands away, quickly, with an impatient look, pushing himself up, and David caught a glimpse of what he hadn’t quite realized he felt: a shoulder holster, the glint of a gun tucked beneath the man’s light jacket. David felt his stomach go tight, as the man got to his feet, and pulled David up as well, keeping hold of his arms with hard strong hands. “I’m terribly sorry,” he said, “Are you all right?”
David blinked a couple of times, speechless. The man had a Russian accent. His pale blue eyes squeezed into a small frown as David remained silent, staring, and his shaggy blond hair was a mess, and David nodded a little, still blinking stupidly. The gun, the accent, the game had come real, and he’d stumbled onto a real Russian spy, and the longer he stood there staring, the more annoyed the man looked.
“Are you all right? Look, shouldn’t you be in school? What are you doing running around the streets?”
David opened his mouth, and found himself saying, “I’m running an errand for my mom, not that it’s any of your business.” He stuck his chin out defiantly, and wished that he was taller as yet another adult looked down at him.
The man let go of him abruptly, pushing a little so that David stumbled toward the sidewalk. It was only as his arms throbbed that he realized how tightly the man had been holding on to him, and he took another step back after he’d caught his balance, his eyes still on the spy, unblinking.
“Go on, then,” the man snapped, tugging his jacket straight. “Go home, child.”
David turned and managed three steady strides down the sidewalk before he began to run.
So that's How David Met Illya. The idea was that thereafter he became kind of obsessed with Illya, more or less stalking him--which Illya is aware of, being Illya, but not going to encourage by acknowledging--until THRUSH draws the conclusion that the boy either is someone or knows something, and grabs him, and then it's an UNCLE Affair with David Starsky as the Innocent du jour. Lots of Napoleon-and-Illya teamwork in the course of the rescue, followed by Napoleon being jealous when the kid is all grateful and awestruck at Illya afterward, and then jealous when Illya is oddly gentle about both acknowledging and deflecting the kid's crush. And then David goes home to his ma, and Napoleon and Illya have sex! The end.