Another The Man From UNCLE drabble.  This one is sort of a scene from “The Birds and the Bees Affair” – not a missing scene, but what Illya might have been thinking at one point.


Illya turned his head away from the device in an effort to shield himself from the sound.  It did no good.  Neither did telling himself that it was all going according to plan.  He tried to focus on withstanding the torture.  Giving in too soon would be suspicious, after all.

His glasses shattered with the sound and he shook them away.  He felt Tavia’s fingers brush his as they reached for the button.  She’d had all she could take and, after all, he didn’t want her hurt.  Gritting his teeth, he hit the button.  At last, the sound died away.


Another little Man from UNCLE drabble, this time based on an incident in “The Very Important Zombie Affair”.


Illya had frowned slightly when the girl pointed out that the coin was two-headed.  At the time, there had been other, more important, things to worry about.  Now, though, was a different story.  Now, they were home again, writing their reports about the mission.

“Calling it in the air,” Napoleon said, holding up a coin.  “Loser buys dinner.”

“Heads,” Illya said, as Napoleon flipped the coin.  Normally, he’d call tails.  He smirked when Napoleon scowled slightly.  He was chuckling before Napoleon had even looked at the outcome.  “Honestly, Napoleon,” he said.

“Yeah, you win,” Napoleon said, tucking the coin away.


Another little The Man From UNCLE drabble.  This one is inspired by the first season episode, “The Deadly Games Affair”.


Illya sipped the punch and smiled.  It was cool and refreshing.  In short: just what he needed.  A moment later, however, the scent of a familiar perfume left a sour taste in his mouth.  Even before the woman hugged him, he scowled.

“Illya, darling,” Angelique said, as she stepped back to smirk at him.  “What brings my favorite little Russian to the auction house?”

Rather than answer her directly, he asked, “Shall I assume you’re here for the same thing as us?”

“Us?  Is Napoleon here, then?”

“He will be,” Illya replied.  He glared as she walked away from him.


This is a little drabble (prompt is title) that was inspired by the first season episode of The Man from UNCLE, “The Fiddlesticks Affair.”


Illya bit the inside of his lip as they crept towards their target.  He was beyond frustrated.  Each time, one of them made some small blunder and they would fail.  What was the point?  They didn’t even know for certain what the setup would be?

He released a sigh when the lights flicked on.  The advisory agent pretended to shoot Napoleon and then him.  Illya suppressed the urge to glare.  This was nothing like a real mission.  How would the man react if Illya had reacted the way he would in real life?  He smiled at the thought.  Dead, indeed.


Title is the prompt… I am picturing this as being early on in their partnership.  This was also pretty much the reaction I had the first time I had chocolate mousse – not pudding, mind you: mousse!


Napoleon’s brow twitched at the soft moan from his partner.  Hiding a smile, he leaned slightly closer.  “Is it that good, Illya?” he asked, his voice soft.

Flushing, Illya gave him a shy smile.  “It’s… not as sweet as I was expecting it to be,” he murmured.  “I just… the flavor is incredible, Napoleon!  What did you call this again?”

“It’s chocolate mousse,” Napoleon said, grinning brightly.  He straightened in his chair.  “It’s very rich, though.  You won’t need a large helping to be satisfied.”

Shaking his head briskly, Illya said, “No, indeed.”  He moaned again after the next bite.


A little drabble about an Illya in another time and place – before joining UNCLE.  He finds someone who needs help more than he does.


Looking at the bedraggled little creature, Illya was reminded of something he’d learned years ago.  No matter how bad he thought his own life was, someone always had it worse.  He crouched down and held out his glasses to the kitten.  “Hello, little one,” he said, his voice soft.  “Can we be friends?”

When the kitten sniffed his glasses and then rubbed against them, he smiled.  Lifting it, he drew it close.  Then, as it snuggled against him, he headed up the steps towards his tiny flat.  “I don’t have much,” he admitted, “but you have even less, it seems.”


Title is the prompt for this Man from UNCLE drabble.


Illya slid as his dress shoes lost traction on the slick marble.  He managed, somehow, to keep his feet.  Then, he continued around the corner and down the steps.  At the base, he barely paused to check for traffic before rushing across the street.  A moment later, he was ducking into the little shop where he finally stopped to catch his breath.

“All right, chum?” Napoleon asked, his eyes wide.

Nodding, Illya said, “We’ve got company coming.”  He gave Napoleon a wry smile.  “It was a bit of a race to see who’d get here first.”

“Good thing you won.”


Another Man from Uncle drabble that wasn’t inspired by a specific episode.  This one comes from the idea that… Illya likes food (he does seem to eat pretty often in the show).  Once again, the title was the prompt.


“For breakfast?”

Illya frowned at Napoleon.  “Not everyone thinks that the only breakfast meat can come from pigs, you know,” he said.  “Some people won’t even eat pork.”

“You like bacon,” Napoleon said, eying the little fishes with something akin to horror.  “I know, because I’ve seen you eat it.”

“I happen to like kippers as well, Napoleon,” Illya said, chuckling softly.

Scowling, Napoleon shook his head.  “Is there anything that you don’t like?”

Illya frowned as he tried to think of something.  It took several minutes, but he thought of something.  “Poi!”

Napoleon grimaced.  “Yeah, all right.  Poi’s worse.”


This drabble isn’t related to any episode.  It’s just the boys, enjoying a simple meal together.  Once again, the title is the prompt.


Napoleon added both salt and pepper to his food.  Illya scowled.  “You didn’t even taste it first,” he said.  He then shook his head.  “How did you know it needed anything without tasting it.”

“It’s commissary food, Illya,” Napoleon said, rolling his eyes.  “It’s bland.”  He started eating, shrugging when Illya tried the macaroni and cheese.

Chewing the first bite, Illya scowled.  Then, he grabbed the salt shaker.  He sprinkled some over his own food before setting it back down.  When he lifted his fork again, he spotted Napoleon’s grin.  “You were right,” he said, tartly.  “It’s bland.  Happy?”



Another little drabble, this one is inspired by the opening scene of “The Arabian Affair.”  The title was the prompt.


Normally, Illya had to wear black to blend in and he had to cover his pale locks.  There were, however, those rare times when being fair was an asset.  In the desert, he wore tan and didn’t bother to cover his sandy locks.  Sprawled on top of the dune, watching the secret laboratory, he was virtually invisible.

Of course, he probably should have worn a hat.  His flesh was as fair as his hair.  The exposed skin on his face could burn under that sun.  However, he had other things on his mind.  How was he meant to get inside?

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