Fandom: Man from UNCLE
Rating/Warnings: performing an autopsy
Disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did.
Prompt: This image took me back to my lab days when we were dissecting everything and anything we could get our hands on for practice.
Napoleon pulled his suit jacket off and hung it neatly on a hanger. “I just don’t understand why we have to do this at all.”
“Knowledge of anatomy can greatly benefit us in the field, Napoleon. Not only does it give us an advantage over our enemies, but it can also possibly save a life.” Illya pulled out the tail of his shirt and started to unbutton the shirt front.
“The life you save maybe mine, you mean?” Napoleon followed suit. It was hung as well before he turned his attention to his pants. Illya’s were already pooled at his ankles. “You shouldn’t tease like that,” Napoleon murmured. “You know how weak I am.”
“Be strong, my friend.” Blushing just slightly, Illya grabbed a set of scrubs and began to tug them on. “You should hurry.”
“Why? Are the dead bodies going to get up and walk away?”
“No, but the instructor is holding this class for our benefit. It would be bad form to keep him waiting.”
“For the record, this is not what I wanted to be doing on Valentine’s Day.”
“I’m sure Mr. Waverly is happy to know what you are willing to sacrifice for our job.”
“I mean, I had booked us a table at the best restaurant in the city. Wine, great food, and then afterwards…” Napoleon waggled his eyebrows and Illya chuckled.
“Get dressed, blockhead. Dissection waits for no man.”
Napoleon closed his eyes and tried to focus. He knew it was good practice. He knew it was important that he be able to locate and deliver a kill shot. He knew it was beneficial if Illya was hurt. He also knew he was about to scream from boredom. Not so his partner.
llya was carefully removing organs from his practice bodies. These anatomically-correct dummies were the top-of-the-line and realistic in just about every way, including the way they glistened under the fluorescent lights.
At least they smelled better than the real thing, Napoleon thought as he reached into his cadaver and pulled out its heart. He fumbled slightly and the organ danced in his grasp. It hopped and bounced, then skidded across the floor.
The instructor looked at Napoleon with an expression of annoyance and pity. “Something wrong, Mr. Solo?”
“I seem to have lost my heart. Sorry,” Napoleon said, putting on his best helpless look for the teacher. The instructor mumbled something under his breath and walked away. “I didn’t mean to,” Napoleon continued as he turned back to Illya.
Illya laughed and held a red glistening organ out to Napoleon. “It’s all right, Napoleon. Take this.”
Illya laughed again and shook his head. “A repeat of something that happened a long time ago. I’m giving you my heart.”