The Soviet
Andrew Smith sat on his couch, playing on his phone and waiting for the new agent to show up. He decided to tidy up around his small house before he got here. His bedroom was already cleaned, but the rest of the house was a little sloppy. Just some clothes here and there, glasses still laying out, and the place needed to be vacuumed. He picked up an old soda can in disgust and tossed in the trash before heading back to the couch. Andrew sighed as he checked the clock.
“Why’s he not here yet?” The American whispered to himself. There was no set time he should show up, but his flight couldn’t have taken that long.
“Maybe his flight got delayed,” He thought, “No, I would have heard about it.” He decided that he was just running late and started to vacuum the living room. The clicks of the vacuum picking up dirt filled his ears and soon enough, he was done. He sat back down on the couch. Andrew aimlessly flipped through the channels on the TV before deciding just to turn it off.
Around 5:00 PM, someone finally knocked on my door. Andrew got up and opened the front door. In front of him stood a man wearing a white sweater and black slacks. His jet black hair was slicked back and Andrew immediately fell in love with his green eyes. The new agent was a little bit taller than him too, which was intimidating.
“Are… Are you the Soviet spy?” Andrew said quietly while looking around to make sure no one was watching.
“Why are you whispering?!” He asked with a thick Russian accent, “Yes! Now let me in!” He opened the door a little wider to let him in. He walked passed the smaller man quickly and looked around the small one story house. Andrew smiled at him sheepishly before he looked back over to him. The other man pulled a photo out of his pocket and held it to Andrew’s face. Andrew realized the photo was of him. The other man frowned.
“Something wrong?” Andrew asked nervously.
“I was hoping your photo was a mistake.” He said while lowering the photo. Andrew frowned and narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t that bad looking. He was tall and lanky. He had brown curly hair that formed bangs on his forehead. His brown eyes were covered with clear prescription glasses. He sported a white button up and black slacks with a tie that never seemed to be tight enough. Andrew looked almost like him. Except, he was a little skinnier and had a more defined face.
“Gee, thanks.” He shrugged.
“What is your name?” The Soviet asked, not directly looking at him, but around the room.
“Matt Damon.”
“Who?”
“Nothing,” He sighed out, “Andrew Valentine.” He held out my hand and the other man shook it firmly.
“Franz Novikoff. Pleasure.” Franz smiled and he returned the favor with a genuine confident smile.
“Where do I sleep? Is kind of small house.” Franz tilted his head and looked around the living room. Well, he looked around the house. It’s small and you can see all the rooms. The living room obviously being the biggest.
“Let me show you around!” Andrew folded his hands in front of him and smiled.
“There isn’t much to see,” He whispered under his breath, but the American still heard it.
“Well this is the living room!” He gestured around the room. It wasn’t much. White wooden walls, brown carpet. There was a brown couch and a TV right next to it. On the opposite end of the room was a long white table. He led Franz to the next room over, the kitchen. It was a small room with a few counters and a small circular table in the middle. Franz made some joke about it being small, like the house, as he took him to the next room on the right.
“This is my room. Stay out.” Andrew joked as he closed the door.
“I don’t plan on being in there much, comrade.”
“Ah, why not Franz? Don’t want a sleepover?” Andrew joked as he led him towards his room, pointing out the bathroom on the way
“This is your room!” He tada’d as he opened the door to a small yellow room with a bed, a nightstand, dresser, and one TV. Andrew smiled brightly at Franz as he sat down on the bed. Franz looked over at me and pinched his fingers together. He raised his eyebrow.
“What?”
“The room is tiny.” He replied.
“You have a king sized bed!” Andrew threw up his arms and groaned. Franz followed me back into the living room and they both took a seat on the couch. Andrew looked at him more closely and started to notice other feature about him. The thing that stood out the most was the huge diagonal scar across his hand. Andrew had scars on his hand too, but that was a long time ago. Franz finally cleared his throat and snapped him out of his thoughts.
“What is for dinner?” Franz asked questioningly as he stood up and walked into the kitchen. Andrew quickly got up and followed him into the kitchen.
“Uh, I have microwavable lasagna.” Andrew replied while opening the freezer and pulling out a big lasagna. Franz gave him a puzzled look before taking the lasagna and throwing it in the microwave. Andrew walked over to the cabinets and pulled out two plates, setting them down on the table.
“Where is silverware?” Franz looked back at Andrew.
“Second drawer to the left.” He pointed at the drawer. Franz nodded and opened the silverware drawer, pulling out two forks and knives. He set them down on the table as Andrew grabbed napkins, handing them to him. Andrew walked over to the fridge and opened it.
“What do you want to drink?” He asked.
“What do you have?” Franz replied, poking his head around Andrew to see into the fridge.
“Milk, chocolate milk, soda, water, and grape juice.” He pointed at each item as he listed them.
“Chocolate milk, please.” Franz folded his hands on the table as he replied.
“Good choice.” Andrew winked and pulled out the chocolate milk. He got down two cups and poured a glass for both of them, setting the cups on the table.
“Thank you.” Franz smiled as he took a sip.
“Not a problem” He nodded as the microwave beeped. Andrew stood up and grabbed the lasagna, setting it down on the table. Soon enough, they both started to eat. Andrew smiled at Franz as he happily ate the lasagna.
“Briefing with Deputy Chief Barnes is tomorrow at 9:00 AM sharp, be ready by 8:00. They captured a Soviet spy, Yugo Reskofi, and it’s our job to bring him into the interrogation team.” Andrew spoke to Franz and slipped him a manilla folder, containing information on Yugo. Franz flipped through the manilla folder and continued to eat.
“The kid is only sixteen.” Franz said with disappointment in his voice. He shook his head and laid down the folder again.
“I know. That’s what this war is doing to people… to kids. ” Andrew sighed before putting his plate in the sink. He stared down at the plate. Franz stood up and laid a hang on Andrew’s shoulder, but he was lost in thought.
“Are you okay?” He asked. Andrew looked up into his dark beady eyes and smiled. There was something about him that just gave off a calming aura and Andrew loved every goddamn bit of it.
“Yeah. I’m gonna go watch TV. You’re welcome to join me?” He shrugged.
“Of course.” Franz smiled back at me as they both took a seat on the couch. Andrew wrapped a blanket around himself and flipped on the TV. Franz looked over at him.
“We’re gonna do good together.” He spoke softly.
“Yeah... Yeah we are,” Andrew chuckled, “I suppose we should get to know each other better.” Franz looked up from a book he was reading and nodded.
“Alright, my friend. What do you want to know?” The Soviet put the book down. Andrew smiled and spoke,
“We can just start with basic stuff. What’s your favorite color?”
“Carnelian red. What is your favorite color?”
“Oddly specific, but okay,” Andrew made a face before answering, “Mine is blue. Preferably darker blue.”
“Okay. My birthday is December 24th, 1995. You?” Franz asked.
“You’re turning 24? Dammit! August 25th, 1997. I’m only turning 22.” Andrew scowled and Franz laughed. He gave the younger boy a heft slap on the back.
“That means you are young! I have authority!” He threw up his hands in victory as the American shook his head.
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Yes it is. Don’t question me or you’re grounded.” Franz pointed at Andrew and narrowed his eyes.
“I’m gonna go shower now. You have fun with your delusions of grandeur.” Andrew got up off the couch and started to walk away. Franz yelled after him,
“Bedtime is at nine o’clock!” All he received in response was Andrew giving him the middle finger. Franz laughed as Andrew entered the bathroom.
