MFU blurb

Written for today’s short affair prompt at Section VII

Summary:
In which Illya’s legendary appetite is known well enough for him to get requests to judge a bake-off.  Napoleon just wonders how he does it.

Not crossposting this because I’m lazy again.

Napoleon stared glumly at the gray, overcast skies over New
York.  Their first day off in a long time
seemed to be holding the promise of rain, scrapping the plans for a Central
Park picnic lunch that he had been hoping to arrange for him and Illya.  Their cat, Baba Yaga also looked irked at the
cloud cover, which had preempted her plans of lazing in a sunbeam all morning;
she sat on the windowsill, tail lashing in frustration.

But Napoleon was a resourceful person; he was already
trying to come up with alternatives when he heard a knock on the door.  Out of habit as an agent; he checked who it
was first, and was surprised to see a group of girl scouts from Troupe 144
outside the apartment door.

“Good morning,” he offered, as he opened the door.

“Good morning,” one of the scouts said.  “Is Mr. Kuryakin in?”

“Yes, he’s just finishing breakfast,” Napoleon said.  He turned towards the breakfast nook.  “Illya, you’ve got company!”  He turned back to the scouts.  “I didn’t think it was cookie season…”

“It’s not,” another one of the girls said.  “We wanted to ask Mr. Kuryakin about
something else…”  She trailed off as
Illya arrived.  “Hi, Mr. Kuryakin!”

The girls all greeted him, and Illya returned the
greetings.

“What brings you out here?” he queried.

“It’s time for our annual charity bake-off,” the lead scout
reminded him.  “Remember?  You asked us to let you know when we were
going to have it.”

“Oh, that’s right, I did,” Illya mused.

“We’ve had a bit of trouble getting things set up,” a
second scout said.  “First of all,
because of the storm coming, we had to move it inside the community center near
West Side—the one near the old gym.”

“Ah, yes, next to the old building that smells of chlorine
swimming pools,” Illya said, frowning slightly.
“Not the best place for a bake-off, but seeing as though you’ll be
rained out otherwise, not much of a choice…”

“We’re also out one judge,” the first scout said.  “That’s why we came here to see you—do you
think you can judge the bake-off, Mr. Kuryakin?
We thought of you because we know you appreciate food—you’re the one who
buys most of our cookies each year.”

“You hit the nail on the head there,” Napoleon grinned,
looking at his partner.  “Illya is a
connoisseur of all kinds of foods.”

“Da, I am,” Illya
said.  “When is your bake-off?”

“In an hour,” a third scout said, sheepishly.  “Sorry for the late notice, but our judge
just quit on us.”

“Well, Mr. Kuryakin did just finish breakfast right now,”
Napoleon began, but Illya cut him off.

“I am more than happy to step in as judge for you,” he
said.  “I’ll be at the community center
in an hour.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kuryakin!” the girls chorused, and they headed
back outside where their chaperone was waiting with the car.

“…You literally just ate,” Napoleon said.  “How are you going to be able to judge the
bake-off?”

“I am their best customer, Napoleon; I must help them!”

“…In America, the customer is the one who is served.”

“Da, but I am a
Soviet—we share all burdens and help each other.”

“…You just want to sample those cookies and cakes.”

Illya went slightly red.

“I’ll see you after the bake-off, Napoleon.”

“Ready for lunch, no doubt,” Napoleon smirked, as Illya
darted out the door.  He sighed and
looked to Baba Yaga.  “Where does it all
go?”

“Mrrah?”

“You don’t know, either, hmm?”

“Mreh.”

“Yeah, it’s one of the great mysteries of the universe,”
Napoleon teased.

At any rate, he had an idea for what to do now—Illya would,
no doubt, find a way to be ready for lunch even after judging the
bake-off.  And Napoleon still had plans
for a picnic… but having one indoors.

“A gourmet picnic,” he mused aloud.  “In the comfort of our apartment.  …Honestly, what could be better?”

It was promising to be an enjoyable day after all.