"It's The Man From U.N.C.L.E. In Elizabethan London. With magic, and angels. And stuff."
And it really is, down to the much-too-smart-for-their-britches protagonists, the over-reliance on tying people to things, and the snappy, crabby, bitchy banter and one-upsmanship that you just know hides an abiding affection. And the, er. (whisper) slashy subtext.
I am so damned pleased with that comparison.
(And googling that about, I found a livejournal MFU fan community I have to join, if nothing else for the interview links. Although, wow, lots of slash. Some bigshot (cough)neo(cough) pro writer I am, hanging out in fandom sites. (Shocked. Shocked, I tell you.) (There goes my reputation. Again.) Well, I never had any cool to begin with--)
Yes, eBear is a serious Man From U.N.C.L.E. junkie. I actually have a complete collection of the books. And used to sneak out of bed at 11:00 PM at night to watch the show on TNT (dates self again) when it was in reruns there back in the eighties.
I also have a massive Mission:Impossible and Avengers habit. Confession time. (And it shows in my work, too.) (And am I the only one who noticed that The Avengers and MFU had almost exactly the same structure overall, down to the fact that it was the cute and inoffensive-looking member of each team (occasionally seen in horn-rimmed glasses) who (a) was always getting tied to things and (b) was the serious badass of the pair?)
Sigh. Smart 60's spy shows. The intelligence level of the characters almost makes up for their pants. Maybe if we got Illya into Diana Rigg's hunter-green leather catsuit....
Okay, I obviously have to get more sleep.
I also wrote two pages longhand today, and as soon as I eat something I'm going to type them in and see if I can finish this bit of backfill I'm working on. And I'm pleased by that too.
My usual urgency to finishfinishfinish has deserted me, and (much to my beta-readers' collective annoyance) I'm just pleased to let the end of this one come to me as it comes to me. I have a feeling like it's like putting the last row on top of a five-deck house of cards, and I don't want to breathe on it wrong.
And really, I have all the time in the world.