#napoleon and illya tried to kill each other immediately it was more of a showing each other the worst bits immediately kind of situation

[heytheredeann]

“Yes, there is a place where someone loves you both before and after they learn what you are.” ― Neil Hilborn

[giocchan94]

THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.: a study in trust and team relationships (Part 1 – Illya Kuryakin)

Ok, let’s try this u.u

(I remind you that english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes that could be in this.)

THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.: a study in trust and team relationships (Part 1 – Illya Kuryakin)

Introduction: neither of them trust easily; they’re all spies, so it’s in their job description not to trust people, but what about trust in a team?

Maybe it seems strange, but out of the three of them, I think Illya is the first one to start trusting them and he does that pretty easily. Of course, at first he doesn’t. He and Solo especially start like enemies and actually try to kill each other and then, when they’re told that they must work together, the first thing they say to each other is an insult. So, not the best of beginnings.

With Gaby, at the start he tries to see her almost like an object, a mean to an end. When he first talks to her, he looks her almost like he would do with a piece of  gun before a mission: will this tool help me to accomplish my mission? Yes? No? Certainly not with that dress. It must change. It’s obviously just an act. Maybe because I think he really doesn’t usually work with others. I think that even if sometimes he ends up to work with some other KGB agent, like the son of a traitor, they don’t trust him and probably they let him know that he’s not forgiven for the faults of his father, so he in return keeps them at distance and sees them just like tools to use to accomplish his missions. So, he tries to do the same thing with Gaby, but we see immediately that it doesn’t really work. Like it was said in this post, even if he tries to stay professional, to see Gaby like nothing more that a mean to his end, when she jumps away from him, he subtly reacts, unconsciously too, like he’s been hurt by it. Because in the end she’s one other person that, even before he knows him, she kind of rejects him, pulls away from him, even if this time he doesn’t even try to be liked. Then we have the scene at the fountain, when we see that he really doesn’t see her like an object and actually cares more that he wants to admit about what she thinks of him. So he tries to impress the hell out of her, because he actually want to be liked. Later, in the hotel room, since the mugging exposed a bit too much of him, he tries again to regain control and distance himself from her. So he doesn’t accept the drink (but I think he does that also for other reasons and maybe, in a second moment, I will wrote a post about it) and just really tries not to engage with her at all. When she pulls him in her dance, though, he goes pretty easily and even starts to smile, enjoys himself. It’s the first crack in his resolution to keep her at distance. He tried so hard to distance himself but he actually wants the connection so bad that he gives in pretty easily (and this make this post even more difficult to digest). And then we have the “fight” scene and then the bed scene, where he talks to a sleeping Gaby with so much affection that he clearly already got really attached to her. He craves so much some kind of affection, a connection with another person, that when  someone gives him even the tiniest bit of attention, he immediately grabs at it. I don’t know if we can really talk about trust here, but in the morning he’s so completely captured by her that he gives her some of his trust and when she “betrays” them, he takes it really hard. “It’s not the same” he says, because, maybe for the first time since his family, he did let someone gets closer to him. Even if he knew that he shouldn’t have, he did let her easily in, just because he craved so much that kind of connection with someone. So, when Waverly tells them that Gaby is a British agent, he doesn’t immediately believe it. He’s cautious about it, but then, once again, the next time he sees her he already accepted what she done, forgiven her and gets close to her like the betray didn’t even happened.

Now, let’s talk instead about his relationship with Solo.

With him it’s more difficult because, since he’s an american, he automatically sees him like an enemy and he does try to treat him according to this. At the fountain scene, he tells him “You’re not needed here” and I don’t think he means only in that moment, but more like “you’re not needed on this mission at all, I can do it on my own” because that’s the way he usually works, even if it’s not really by choice. But then he has to admits that Solo was right about what to do with the “muggers” and the next time, in the hotel room when he’s developing the photos, he’s the one that approaches Solo, shows him the photos, creates an opening  for collaboration. He still doesn’t trust him, he still treats him like Solo is the worst thing it could happened to him in that moment, but he reaches to him anyway for a partnership. He’s open to the idea, like I think he was with the other KGB agents, but once again he gets slapped away. Then he goes to the compound (I don’t know if he was already planning it or he did it because he saw Solo move with the bug he planted on him). When he sees Solo, he doesn’t aggressively tell him to go away, but he doesn’t even try to offer a collaboration again. He’s just like “I’m here and I’m not leaving, so if you want to come, we have to do this together”. Then there’s all the scene of the infiltration where each of them tries to impress the other and all the bickering I think it’s actually more like a bonding experience for them. At the end, Solo comes back to save him and from that moment, Illya starts to trust him. It’s not a complete trust, but like with Gaby, Solo gave him the tiniest bit of attention, the tiniest bit of a reason to trust him and Illya get readily attached to him. In fact, when he goes to save him from uncle Rudy, he seems really worry about him. I repeat, it’s not a complete trust, because Illya is not stupid and he’s a good agent, but it’s a start and he’s really open to it.

Conclusion: between the three of them, Illya is the one most open to the idea of a team. He always wanted this kind of connection but he always had been slapped away when he tried to get closer, at least until Gaby and Solo came; yes, both of them slapped him away too at first, but then things change and for the first time, the people Illya tries to get close to, start to let him do it and he grabs at it like a man with water after days spent in the desert without it. So, in the future, he mostly like will be the first one to completely trust them. And, at the same time, maybe he will be the first one to have doubts about that trust given reasons because he knows he tends do give it too easily, but about this last bit I’m still not sure. I need to think more about it.

I’ll do a post with Napoleon and Gaby too, but later xD

[umbrylcrow]

Illya had never been sick in his life. At least, not that he’d admit. He’d never breathe a word about how he got a cold or two (or six) as a child or mention that bout of mono at fourteen. No, for all intents and purposes, Illya Kuryakin had a superhuman immune system and he liked it that way; so when he began to cough one morning, he brushed it off as nothing more than a momentary betrayal of the body.

Napoleon didn’t buy it.

After getting off the phone with his mother that morning–having a conversation Illya couldn’t follow because he didn’t speak Gaelic and Napoleon and his dear mother preferred to speak to each other privately using that near dead language–the American had regarded Illya with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you getting sick, Peril?”

“Of course I am not getting sick,” Illya scoffed. “It will pass.” Napoleon gave Illya the most unconvinced look the Russian had ever seen on anybody’s face before. It was time to show Napoleon that he was serious.

Illya allowed his face to relax, summoning up that smile that Napoleon loved so much as he leaned in to press his lips to the others. Napoleon leaned forward to meet him. Illya could taste victory.

Only downside was he didn’t make it to his target.

Napoleon stopped him before they met, one of his fingers pressed to Illya’s lips and a hard look on his face.

“I’d rather not catch what you have, Illya.” The Russian opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by Napoleon’s sharp gaze. “So until this passes, keep your lips to yourself.”

Illya pulled away, straightening his back and returning to his full height. He did little to keep his displeasure from showing on his face. He should have expected this.

“Go make yourself comfortable on the couch while I grab a thermometer.”

“That is not necessary.”

“Go sit, Illya.” With a huff, the Russian moved to obey, falling heavily onto the couch and waiting for Napoleon to return and when he did, he popped the thermometer into Illya’s mouth and waited. The silence between them made the three minutes feel more like three hours.

“A hundred degrees…not terrible, you don’t need to go to a hospital but you definitely need to get some rest,” Napoleon informed Illya. “So into bed with you.”

“It is not even noon.”

“Bed. I’ll bring some things to you to keep you entertained and I’ll make you soup.”

Illya didn’t know why he didn’t put up a fight at being sent away to bed–maybe he really was sick if he didn’t start an argument–but he did so, stripping out of his clothes and slipping into his night wear before laying down, pulling the comforter over himself.

Their bed was a beast of a thing, it could fit at least three to four people in it depending on each individuals size and it was long enough that Illya could stretch out comfortably and still had room. Napoleon had special ordered the bed and it hadn’t been cheap but it had certainly been worth it.

Napoleon came into the room soon after, carefully carrying Illya’s chess set and a small stack of books in his hands.

“Why so many books? How long do you think I will be sick for?”

“It’s a precaution.”

“You could always grab more after.”

“I like to be safe rather than sorry.” Illya shook his head.

“Try and sleep a little, the food won’t be ready for awhile.”

“I make no promise.”

“Of course not.”

That first day had been easy. Illya felt mostly fine and the soup was delicious. Napoleon acted like a mother hen which Illya found both to be a little too much and yet at the same time terribly endearing.

The second day was much of the same, but by the third, Illya had a full blown fever and was having huge coughing fits.

His hair stuck to his forehead and it felt far too hot in the room. He felt like he could hardly breath even if he was getting air just fine. This felt worse than the mono though realistically, he knew it wasn’t.

“Shh,” Napoleon soothed, placing a cool cloth on Illya’s forehead. “You’re going to be fine, Illya.”

Illya believed him.

Day four didn’t see much change besides Illya being a bit more lucid than the previous day. He watched as Napoleon fumbled with a medicine bottle, frowning at the directions that had washed away after he accidentally dropped it into a puddle on the way home. New York foot traffic was the worst and you were bound to drop things from being bumped into.

“I’m guessing a teaspoon won’t harm you,” Napoleon said, sounding unsure.

“If I die, I will come back to haunt you.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Peril.”

When an hour passed and Illya didn’t croak, Napoleon counted it as a job well done and went to make food.

The food burned while they talked about everything from authors to history to movies.

“I like James Bond,” Napoleon said.

“They are ridiculous movies.”

“You’re no fun.”

“That is not what you say in bed.”

“Going for the low point, are we?”

“I learned from best.”

“I already apologized for your mother.” Illya only grinned. And that is when the smell of something burning reached their noses.  “The food!” Napoleon exclaimed and darted from the room like a bat out of hell.

When he came back to the bedroom, he had a defeated look on his face.

“I have never seen you burn food before.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have gotten burnt if you weren’t such a distraction.”

“I will take that as compliment.” Napoleon only shook his head fondly.

“I’d order take out if I didn’t think it’d make you more sick.”

“So what now?”

What now ended up being cereal. Something a bit too sugary for Illya’s taste but it filled his stomach well enough.

In the days following, Illya’s health went up and down. Some days he was a delirious mess and others he was perfectly aware and could hold a coherent conversation.

Unfortunately for Napoleon on those days, Illya was generally his stubborn self and there would be arguments about Illya getting out of bed. He’d tried, despite Napoleon’s protests, to do so once and he had crumpled to the floor almost immediately. Napoleon had helped him back into bed and gave him a look that Illya could clearly read as ‘have you learned your lesson?’

It would become apparent later that he did not when the next day he tried again with the same result. Napoleon cursed him softly under his breath in every language he knew.

“Crap,” Napoleon called from the bathroom on day ten.

“What is wrong?”

“Don’t have anymore medicine.”

“Store is block away. Nothing to worry about.”

“It’s Sunday, meaning the pharmacy is closed,” Napoleon informed him.

“I will live,” Illya said with a shrug.

“There is a tea my mother made whenever I got sick as a boy. I’ll call her and ask her how she made it.”

The tea made Illya vomit.

“That was not supposed to happen.” Napoleon’s brow was knit in confusion. “I put in what she told me to…oh. Oh no.”

“What?” Illya asked, voice strained.

“I forgot that I put blood root herb in the vanilla extract bottle because it was all we had.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Illya did, in fact, not kill Napoleon. He didn’t even make an attempt. Not that Napoleon thought he would. Illya was sick and honestly, Napoleon would have said the same. He was just grateful for when Illya stopped expelling the contents of his stomach and went to sleep.

He wouldn’t make that mistake again, that he was certain of.

Fourteen days. It took fourteen days for Illya’s health to return again and both were more than happy for it.

“So, in the mood for more blood root tea?” Napoleon teased affectionately. Illya gave him an impassive look. “Sorry, that’s not funny.”

“Thank you,” Illya said.

“It was no trouble, though can I be honest with you?”

“What is it?”

“I absolutely hated having you as a patient, Peril.”

“You’re a terrible doctor, Cowboy.”