Ow!

by Meris

"Ow! I can'k belie' she hi' me tha' har'!"

"Calm down, Napoleon, and let me see."

"'ivilians ha' no ri' to ta'e umbra' a' mo'h info'm' action'."

"That does not include flirting, Napoleon. Put your hand back down."

"I wa' naw flir'in'."

"Well, it looks like your non-flirting has earned you bruises. And you are bleeding."

"Naw' seriou'."

"From the mouth...Open up!"

"I can'k moof my zhaw, how cah' I o'en—ow!"

"It is not broken, or else the joint would be looser."

"Ih'ss plen'y loose awrea'y—ow! Wha' are 'oo do-in'?"

"Be quiet. And do not bite me."

"I bi'en 'oo be'ore."

"Never in the line of duty. What did she hit you with? Your back teeth are loose."

"A 'oo."

"Both your back teeth have been loosened on this side. Hold still!"

"I ah ol'in stih."

"What did she use? The ones on the other side are moving, too."

"A 'oo."

"Whatever it was, it made your teeth bite into your cheek. That is why you are bleeding. It is not serious."

"Ao!"

"All right, close your mouth. I hope they will stay in long enough for us to get out of here."

"Has anyone e'er tole you tha' you ha' very 'ig fingers?"

"Only you."

"Enormous, tremen'ous, gigan'ic fingers? Ow!"

"What?"

"Now my entire mou' i' throbbin'."

"Maybe she actually hit a nerve, then."

"Tha's benea' you, I'ya. 'ery unsym'athetic."

"You do not need sympathy. You need a dentist."

"Owm."

"And you need him now. Come along, moy duschka, I will take you to H.Q. and we will let the dentist look at you."

"Bu' ih' hur's now."

"Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Plea'ss?"

"How was that?"

"I think I nee' 'nother dose."

"Always glad to oblige."

"Mr. Solo?"

"Yeh'?"

"Dr. Larkin. I'll be handling the extraction."

"Extra'tion?"

"Yes. All four molars must go."

"Bu' they're jus' loose. Can'k you jus' glue 'em ba' in?"

"We could, but that is not advisable. The bruising in your jaw will affect the healing of the roots, and when the teeth are already so loose that they are rocking in place, far better to extract them."

"Isn' tha' somewha' drasti'?"

"Worried about our silhouette, are we? We'll replace them with implants. Quite handy for carrying little things around."

"I don' think tha's the word I'd use."

"Nonsense, technological advancement has increased the storage size and gadgets are getting smaller all the time. Once the replacements are in, you'll never know you didn't have them."

"I'll know."

"Not even your hairdresser will know for sure after we're through with you. Always assuming you go to your hairdresser for your regular dental work."

"When do I ha' to co' in for thi'?"

"No time like the present. We'll just give you some novocain—a lot of novocain—and the entire thing can be done in under four hours."

"Four—!"

"Then ten days for healing and you should be good as gold. Hm, we could actually make one a gold cap so that it would look more authentic."

"I don't wan' any ca's. Jus' glue 'em i'."

"No, Mr. Solo, it's already been cleared, and your afternoon is free."

"Ih' isn'! I ha' mee'ings an' lunssh—"

"Mr. Solo, your afternoon has been made free so that this can be done expeditiously. Relax and we'll get through this much quicker."

"I' noh' happy wi' thss."

"We're aware of that, Mr. Solo."

"Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Yes, Dr. Larkin, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Solo asked me to call you when he was done and ready to go home."

"Is he all right?"

"Quite all right, just very woozy. The novocain was not enough, we had to use some nitrous oxide to go after a particularly deep-rooted tooth."

"Did you have to destroy the teeth to remove them?"

"No, they came out whole. That's good, because removing fragments would have been much more difficult."

"Do you need to keep them?"

"No, there's no medical need. It's not like we're doing an autopsy."

"I think Napoleon might like to see what has caused him so much trouble and pain."

"Certainly. We'll bag them for you."

"Is there anything special I need to do to make him comfortable?"

"He just needs to take it easy for a couple of days. I'll set him up with two days' worth of Percocet, then just aspirin if he's uncomfortable. Soft foods. He'll have a hard time closing his mouth all the way for five or six days, until the swelling goes down, and he shouldn't sip anything through a straw. He shouldn't drive if he's taking the Percocet."

"Thank you, Doctor. I will be down in a couple of minutes."

"We're home, Napoleon."

"Goo'."

"Just come in and let me put you to bed. You need to sleep this off."

"Naw' sleepy."

"It is all right. Sit down. I will bring you water and the pain pill."

"Doan' wanna pi'."

"You need it. There is no reason to suffer pain outside of Thrush cells."

"'S'jus' teet'."

"Here is water. Take the pill."

"Doan' wanna."

"Napolya, duschka moy, take the pill, please."

"No. Can slee' on my own."

"Not the way you need to in order to heal faster."

"'M'tire'."

"Yes, I know. Prolonged dentistry tends to have that effect."

"'M' too tire' to slee'."

"No, you are not. I will help you. Here, I am hanging up your jacket."

"Pocke's."

"I have checked the pockets. Now, I am hanging up your belt and your pants."

"Creases toge'er."

"Creases together, cuffs clamped, yes. Everything in the pockets in the little tray as usual. Shoes lined up with the others."

"Jaw hur's."

"It must hurt a lot. Now your shirt. Left arm. Right arm. Hold up both arms. Undershirt off."

"Ham'er."

"Yes, I threw them in the hamper. I have hung your holster on the door and your gun is on the nightstand. Here is the water, in your left hand, and the pill in your right. Good."

"Tire'."

"Very tired, I know. Hips up."

"Ham'er."

"Yes, I threw them in the hamper and put the lid back on. Give me two minutes."

"'kay."

"I am just brushing my teeth."

"Nee' you."

"I know. There, all the lights are out."

"Nee' you."

"You will always have me. Lean back. Feel my arms around you? I am here. You can relax. Nothing will hurt you now and morning will come a different day."

"Lo' you."

"I love you, Napoleon. I always will. Now sleep."

"What did she hit you with?"

"I told you. A shoe."

"A shoe?"

"One kick to each side of my face."

"For flirting?"

"I wasn't flirting!"

"She is a civilian. Do not tell me that innocent non-avian females can use savate to kick you in the jaw. Twice."

"Er...It wasn't savate."

"What was it?"

"And she may not be Thrush, but a woman scorned is still dangerous."

"Scorned? What did you do?"

"Well, maybe scorned is pitching it a little high."

"What did you do?"

"And don't let anyone tell you that innocents don't have a trick or two up their sleeves."

"What did you do?"

"Nothing that should get me tripped in a hallway."

"She tripped you."

"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"You were not? A trained agent like yourself?"

"I was paying attention...um...to her when she was talking."

"Only talking."

"I'd taken her hand, I wasn't watching her feet."

"You were holding hands."

"It was entirely innocent. She was upset."

"I am going to be very upset unless I find out how a top agent with highly trained reflexes was brought down in public, in broad daylight, in a hallway, and beaten hard enough by a small woman to leave bruises and loosened teeth."

"It was just a little kick, then she warmed up to it."

"Which side first?"

"Uh...left first."

"They were not as loose on that side. Did she only kick you twice?"

"Of course! I was taken by surprise, not helpless!"

"So you recovered?"

"And caught her foot after the second kick, which hurt a good deal more."

"Save the puppy dog eyes for later. Did she live?"

"Well, she landed flat on her back. It knocked the breath out of her. I was able to get away."

"Why was she so angry with you?"

"Oh, I'd told her we would have to part, our hearts called but life did not allow us to mesh, she—"

"—she was far too good for you and you would bow out of her life before hurt could touch her, yes, yes, yes, your usual extrication routine—"

"It is not a routine!"

"It is entirely a routine, and one you use far too often. What did you say that ruined it?"

"Um..."

"It does not sound like anything a sane woman would beat you up for."

"Well, it makes them angry when you use the wrong name."

"Napoleon!"

"It's not my fault! Lena, Dena, they sound a lot alike!"

"You are still seeing Lena?"

"Not seeing, exactly."

"And what does not seeing mean?"

"I'm not dating her, if that's what you mean."

"What do you mean, then?"

"It's just talking, from time to time."

"In the maproom?"

"No! Well, not exactly..."

"If I did not know better, I would swear you are trying to bait me."

"Illya! I would never do that."

"Oh, yes, you would. Especially if you thought it would distract me from the main point."

"Bait-and-switch, then?"

"Only you Americans would have a name for it."

"We have a name for everything. Just not forty-seven different words for snow."

"That is Inuit."

"Inuit, Russian, what's the difference? They both mean frozen..."

"Of course there is a difference. Does this feel like it is frozen?"

"No...that feels...um...very warm."

"How about this?"

"Very, very warm..."

"And here..."

"Down...right...hot..."

"We Russians have fifty words for hot. And most of them have to do with making love."

"Let's try the first five. Then the second five. And see which of them live up to it."

"I do not think you will survive the first three."

"You never know until you try."

"Did you pick up the tuxes, Napoleon?"

"Yesterday. They should be hanging next to each other."

"They are. I hate charity functions."

"You just hate dancing with old ladies."

"Where is my shirt?"

"Hanging up with your tux, after I rescued it from the floor a couple of days ago."

"That is because you captivate the only young ones there. Why can't I just wear a turtleneck? Simple, clean lines, no bowtie."

"They always fall for suave, débonair men. And I'm not going to dignify the turtleneck gambit with an answer."

"Stupid buttons. And the shoes usually hurt. Well, this time they will fall for me."

"That's because you're suave and débonair. Especially in the tux I bought you."

"Very true. And you will keep your hands and flirtations to yourself."

"I am not going to flirt. Can I help it if they find me attractive and want to whisper sweet nothings in my ear?"

"In a word—yes. And you are going to help it ... I can not make this tie work."

"Here, let me help. Just turn around and face the mirror. I'll reach over and ... make the bow ... now, the knot, not too flat ... There. All tidy."

"I can solve 3-D equations in my head and still never tie a good bowtie. It must be an element of the fifth dimension."

"Maybe you need help connecting the dots. Here, I'll help you with your cufflinks, too."

"Please do."

"Illya..."

"Yes, Napoleon?"

"These are teeth."

"Yes, Napoleon."

"Why do you have teeth for cufflinks?"

"As a reminder, Pasha."

"A reminder?"

"If you flirt, I will have your teeth for cufflinks. You did, and I do."

"These are my teeth?"

"Oh, yes!"

"How—?"

"The results of your last flirtation."

"I was NOT—oh, hell."

"Then you should have nothing to worry about."

"You will never have anything to worry about, Illyushka. I promise."

"See that I do not. I do not share well."

"I know you don't. I'll never worry you like that."

"Good. You do not have enough to spare for another set. Stop brushing your hair and let us go."

"That's you to the core, Illya. Always looking out for my welfare."

"It is what I do best, Napasha."