The Better Gadget Affair
by: RAC
Rated NC-17
email:RAC
PAIRING: IK/NS
EPISODE WARNING: None
DISCLAIMER: They're mine, they're mine. Mwahahaha. Shit, all right. They're not mine. Damn it. It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Man From U.N.C.L.E. now. And that's not me.
SUMMARY: Where did Napoleon get all those great gadgets from?
NOTES: Set before Napoleon and Illya are partners. And I'm sure I'm mucking around with their history a little bit, but just try and breathe through it if it bothers you. Oh, and I swear (girl scout's honor) that I had this written before reading Blondie's wonderful story Tattoo, and Jadwol's fab new Round Robin start, cuz there's some similarities to parts of this story. All I can say is that great minds think alike. LOL.
WARNING: Don't take candy from strangers.
DISTRIBUTION: File 40
FEEDBACK: Absolutely.
THANKS: To Morr, for her quibbles! And thanks to DiT for beta assistance, and to Irene who I'm going to talk into giving this a look over. And a huge nod to Dword for keeping such good care of all my stories, reading them ahead of time, and archiving them. Go visit my MFU stories at: http://www.dwordslist.net/RAC_MfU.html. And thanks to the folks at Channel W for their ongoing fic help, gadgets in this case.
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Napoleon held out the cufflinks in the palm of his hand as if they were poison. "They didn't work."
"I don't have time to listen to your complaints, Solo."
Napoleon clenched his jaw. "Listen, Roberts, when you give me equipment, and tell me it does something, I expect it to do what you've told me it will do." Napoleon couldn't understand what had happened to the director of the lab section. While Roberts had never been the friendliest of men, nor a genius by anyone's standards, since his promotion a year ago his attitude had taken a severe nose dive. Napoleon tuned back into Roberts' words.
"And isn't it interesting that the equipment always works for everyone else. You're the only one that comes in here to tell me these things don't measure up to your exacting standards." The sarcasm was barely veiled.
"I find that very hard to believe."
"Well, go cry on somebody else's shoulder. Waverly's got me up to my ass in crocodiles getting an order done for London. Though why they can't do their own goddamn work is beyond me." The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go see the new guy." He sneered. "The commie. I'm sure he'll set you right up. Maybe give you something that will explode while you're still wearing it." He muttered something unflattering about Waverly hiring an enemy right into the heart of U.N.C.L.E. and then turned back to his project, essentially dismissing Napoleon.
Napoleon didn't like being dismissed. He didn't like it at all. But he also knew when he'd lost a battle. He wouldn't get anything further out of this fool without direct orders from Waverly. He lingered over the delightful notion of shooting Roberts but decided he wasn't worth the effort.
Once out in the hall he noticed a new nameplate on the lab next door. Napoleon ran his fingers over the embossed letters. Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin, Ph.D. Ah, he thought, Roberts' commie.
Napoleon glanced through the window and saw a man staring intently into a microscope. All he could see was blond hair and a black outfit under a white lab coat. Napoleon entered after the door slid open. "Excuse me?"
The man looked up and blue eyes, which now stared intently at him, temporarily arrested Napoleon.
"What?" the man snapped.
Not the most welcoming of speeches, but Napoleon pressed on. "I'm looking for Dr. Kuryakin."
"You found him."
Napoleon's eyes widened. This guy didn't seem old enough to have a Ph.D. But, he was hardly going to argue the point. Napoleon held out the cufflinks. "I have a complaint."
The blond eyed the cufflinks, glanced at Napoleon, took in his outfit from his tie down to his expensive shoes and went back to his microscope. "Take it up with your couturier."
Napoleon snorted. "They're explosives."
That got the man's attention. The cufflinks were scooped out of Napoleon's hand and closely scrutinized. "What exactly is your complaint?"
"They don't work once they get wet."
"Then I suggest you not go swimming prior to detonation."
Napoleon had a sharp retort ready to go when he saw a flash of humor in the blue eyes. He found himself grinning instead and turned it into a wry smile. "Thanks. I'll take it under advisement." He put his hand out. "Napoleon Solo."
His hand was gripped firmly. "Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin." Introductions over, the cufflinks were placed on the counter, and Illya went back to his microscope.
Napoleon felt dismissed again and his goodwill toward the blond started to fade. "Aren't you going to fix them now?"
Illya glanced at him. "Do you need them now?"
No, he didn't, but that was hardly the point. "Yes."
"No, you don't."
Napoleon frowned. "How do you know?"
"Because if you needed them now, we'd be having a completely different conversation."
Napoleon bounced on his toes, momentarily stymied. He managed to rally. "Well, I need them by tomorrow."
Illya flashed him a look of disbelief but he nodded. "Fine, I'll have them by tomorrow."
Napoleon waited for him to pick up the cufflinks and start working on them but he went back to his microscope. Napoleon wanted someone to act as if he mattered, as if the fact that he was the one out there getting beaten and shot at and tortured counted for something. He pointed at the defunct gadgets. "You're not even looking at them."
Illya sighed but kept his eyes focused on whatever it was he was looking at. "It's no wonder you're a spy, with such keen powers of observation."
Napoleon beat his fingers in a single drum roll on the counter and decided he'd hold off strangling the man until tomorrow when his cufflinks would no doubt still be sitting on the counter in the exact spot they were currently sitting in. Without another word he left the lab and headed back to his office to finish up the report on his less than stellar mission, within which non-exploding cufflinks factored largely.
*****
Napoleon returned to the lab earlier than intended the next morning, having received an unexpected call from Waverly with instructions to depart within the hour for a new mission. He decided to share - with his new comrade - his frustration over his lack of sleep, the fact that he was going to a decidedly untropical location, and that he was going to have to miss his date with Candy tonight.
He slammed into the lab and saw the cufflinks, as expected, still sitting on the counter. And Kuryakin had the temerity to still be staring into that damn microscope. For a moment Napoleon wondered if he slept that way. He rapped the counter none too gently, anticipating the opportunity for a verbal sparring from which he intended to emerge the victor. "Are these done?"
"Yes."
That took the wind out of his sails. His eyebrows rose. "They are?"
Illya pulled away from the microscope. Napoleon was tempted to go take a peek; maybe there was some sort of microscopic peep show on that slide. "You said you needed them today, didn't you?"
Napoleon had, but he certainly hadn't expected them to be done. Lately, no one in the labs had anything done when he needed it. They always brought it up to his office the day he got back, when his arm was in a sling, or bruises were darkening his face. Roberts' bad attitude seemed to be contagious.
It was gratifying that the man had done as asked, but it left Napoleon feeling a bit breathless. As if he'd thrown a punch expecting to come into contact with a hard punching bag and instead now found himself freefalling through jello. It made him snappy. "Are they waterproof?" He gave the cufflinks a suspicious stare, sure they were getting ready to make a fool of him again.
Illya took the cufflinks away from him and put one on the counter. "They won't hold up for a channel swim, but they should survive a dip in a fountain."
Napoleon's eyes narrowed. That was exactly what had happened to him. During a fight with a Thrush agent he'd been thrown into a fountain. Then incarcerated. Obtaining his freedom had taken much longer than expected because his stupid cufflinks had decided to malfunction. He glared through his narrowed eyes. "How did you know that?"
The blue eyes twinkled. "Lucky guess."
Napoleon frowned. The only way he could have known about the fountain was if he'd read Napoleon's report. And that was classified information. He opened his mouth to question the man but was sidetracked by his next comment.
"I changed the way they work."
Ah, Napoleon thought, here it comes. He should have known there was a catch. "What do you mean?" He didn't have time for this.
"It seemed to me that they were impractical. You needed both cufflinks to make one explosive device, one cufflink being the explosive, and one being the detonator. Correct?"
Napoleon nodded. Very correct, and very aggravating. Getting both cufflinks free when your hands were tied took extra time.
Illya continued. "If you need the explosives, I would think that you would need easy access, and as little manipulation as possible." He held the cufflink up. "So, each one is now explosive and detonator all in one. Watch." Using one hand, so as to demonstrate how easily it could be done, he braced the cufflink against the base of his thumb, holding it still with his pinky and ring finger. Then Illya used his thumb and index finger to twist the top, three times.
Then he held up the cufflink and showed Napoleon the firing mechanism. "Push it together with a snap, like so," his fingers tightened and the mechanism snapped together, "and you have ten seconds to toss it near whatever it is you wish blown up. It has the same explosive power as before."
Napoleon was mentally counting down ten seconds, growing a tad apprehensive as he approached zero. "Ah…"
Still using one hand, Illya gave the mechanism a half twist and held it in his hand. "And that defuses it."
Napoleon was astonished. The lab boys loved to come up with new gadgets, and when Napoleon had first arrived there'd been staff here that had done their best by the agents. But over the last year Napoleon had lost count of the suggestions he had given them for items that were smaller, or more concealing, or less cumbersome to use, and instead he got gadgets that proved unreliable, or would have made better prank gifts than tools of the trade for men and women putting their lives on the line.
Now, in less than a day, this guy had heard his complaint, fixed it, and then, without any prompting, made it better. He almost hoped he'd get a chance to try them out. Napoleon flashed Illya a grin. "Thanks." He began to work the cufflinks through his cuffs.
"Don't thank me yet. They're prototypes."
"They always are." He straightened his cuffs, and adjusted his suit sleeves.
Illya flashed him a mocking smile. "I hope you don't play with your cufflinks when you get nervous, Mr. Solo. I'd hate for you to blow your hands off by accident."
Napoleon gave him a dirty look. "I don't get nervous."
"Well-dressed and nerves of steel. I can see the fate of the world is in good hands." He tapped his watch. "Hadn't you better go?"
Napoleon's eyes narrowed again. "How do you know that?"
Illya ignored him. "Let me know how they work. That is, if you manage not to blow yourself up." Illya walked him to the door.
Napoleon wasn't sure why he was allowing himself to be ushered out. "If I get blown up, it will be your fault."
"Of course, I'll accept full responsibility. Now go away, please."
Napoleon found himself on the other side of the door to the lab. He turned and peeked through the window. Illya was back at his microscope. Napoleon let out a soft laugh, glanced at his cuffs, experienced an absurd moment of feeling warmly protected and then, knowing the minutes were ticking by, picked up his suitcase to catch a taxi to the airport.
*****
They worked. He couldn't believe it but they worked. And after they got wet. Amazing. Napoleon let himself into his apartment, glad once again that he'd made it home alive. And this time, he owed it to a Russian. He let out a snort for the delicious ironies of life and headed for his bar. He had to push a few bottles aside but he found a bottle of Stolichnaya, still unopened. He poured himself a glass and toasted the good Doctor Kuryakin in absentia.
The next morning he went down to the lab. Napoleon opened the door into Illya's lab and frowned when he found Roberts there. "Where's Kuryakin?" The last person he wanted to see was Roberts.
"Why? What'd the commie do now?"
Napoleon let out a long breath. "Roberts, don't start with me. Just tell me where he is."
"Hopefully in an unmarked shallow grave."
Napoleon knew he shouldn't bother. It was impossible to win a fight with Roberts. He was like a damn bulldog who hung on to his beliefs, rational or not, like they were some beloved butcher bone.
But Napoleon couldn't leave it alone. He poked his finger into Roberts' chest. "That commie, as you call him, is better at this job than you've ever been. So, do me a favor and tell me where he is and then go slink back to your lab."
"I'm right here."
Napoleon turned and saw Illya standing in the doorway.
Roberts used the moment to move away from Napoleon and head for the door. Illya slowly got out of his way. As he left, he murmured, "God damn commie-lover."
Napoleon felt a spurt of anger on Illya's behalf and gave him a tight smile, saying, "Charming fellow. He's always the first name on my guest lists."
Illya moved to his counter, his hand touching the microscope as if for reassurance. "He doesn't by any chance have a nervous habit of twisting his cufflinks, does he? I could make him a personal set."
Napoleon barked out a laugh.
Illya's lips formed a half smile. "I see you managed to avoid blowing off your hands." His fingers lightly grazed the papers lying next to the microscope, and cast his eyes over the other counters in the lab where a couple of experiments were clearly in process.
Napoleon watched him for a second, and then figured out what he was doing. "It didn't look like he was touching anything. He just appeared to be looking."
Illya nodded. He gave Napoleon a wry smile. "You will make an enemy of him if you defend me like that."
Napoleon heard the hidden thanks and leaned back against the counter by the microscope. "Considering how close he's come to killing me with one malfunctioning gadget after another, I don't know how it could get worse if he were an enemy." He smiled. "By the way, thanks. The cufflinks worked great."
That got a satisfied nod out of the Russian. "Good." He opened a drawer and pulled out another pair. "Here."
Napoleon took them gladly. His communicator went off and he pulled the mechanism out of his inner suit pocket. "Solo here."
"Ah, Mr. Solo." It was Waverly. "Have you finished your report yet?"
Napoleon let out a silent sigh. "I'll have it to you within the hour."
"Very good."
Napoleon eyed the communicator with some displeasure and put it away. He gave Illya a rueful smile. "The exciting life of a spy."
"You best get to it, then, Mr. Solo. Duty calls."
"Napoleon. Call me Napoleon." He was charmed by the shy smile his request elicited out of the Russian. Napoleon found himself reluctant to leave. "Are you sure you don't have anything around here that does paperwork?"
Illya gestured at the cufflinks in Napoleon's hand. "You could throw one of those at the file. It would certainly eliminate the need."
"Yeah, and get me thrown in a detention cell."
"Chances are you wouldn't have to do any paperwork while you're there."
"Thanks, but I think I'll pass on your suggestion, Dr. Kuryakin. I'll just go finish writing my report."
"Have it your way." Illya gave him another shy smile. "And you may call me Illya, if you wish."
For some inexplicable reason, Napoleon's heart skipped a beat. He gave Illya a smile, and left the lab.
*****
It was five days and one mission later when Napoleon ran into Illya again. Napoleon was getting some lunch from the commissary, loading his tray to make up for going without eating for two days while he was tied up in some abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere.
As he made his way to a table with his laden tray, he heard some grumbling behind him. It only took a few words for him to identify Roberts as the speaker. "Someone needs to send that damn commie home. He's got no business being here."
Napoleon turned around and saw that Illya had just entered the commissary.
The grumbling continued. "We don't need his kind here."
Roberts' attitude made Napoleon furious and he was determined not to let the man infect anyone else. He called out. "Illya."
Illya focused in on the voice and waited, eyebrows up.
"Come have lunch with me." Napoleon gestured toward a back table.
Illya's glance took in Roberts and he hesitated a moment. Napoleon wondered if he might turn and leave, but then, to his relief, Illya gave him a small smile and a tight nod, and moved to get his food.
Roberts sneered up at Napoleon.
Napoleon put his hand on Roberts' shoulder, hard enough to make a point. "Don't. Just don't. He's working here, same as us, and that makes us all part of the same team." Napoleon saw several pairs of eyes watching him, and he hoped he was making his point to those willing to listen. Although Napoleon suspected Roberts surrounded himself with the likeminded.
Illya began to make his way to the back table. Napoleon gave Roberts a warning look and left to join the Russian. There was a moment's awkwardness as they both got settled. Finally Napoleon decided on the direct approach. "The man's a bigot, Illya. He doesn't speak for us all."
The small smile appeared again, fleetingly. "He speaks for quite a few."
Napoleon reached out and touched Illya's arm. "Well, he doesn't speak for me."
Illya glanced down at the hand that was lightly touching him and frowned.
Napoleon followed his eyes and saw the rope burns on his wrist. He pulled his arm back and shot his cuff down to cover it. He gave Illya a wry smile. "Souvenir."
Illya pursed his lips, his head cocked to the side. "Are your hands usually tied in front or in back?"
Napoleon thought about it for a minute, his arms moving a few inches forwards and backwards as he mentally reviewed the last few times he'd been tied. "Both, I think. Sometimes over my head." His face scrunched up. "I hate that. Can't protect yourself." His eyebrows waggled. "Why? Are you going to invent another gadget?"
"Possibly."
"Good. I'd just as soon not have to depend on Roberts to save my life."
Illya gave him a quick flash of a real smile, just enough to make Napoleon wish he'd seen more of it. "Want me to kill him for you?"
Napoleon snorted. "Would you please?"
Illya nodded. "I'll take care of it."
Napoleon laughed, but then he took in the look on Illya's face. He touched his arm again. "I'm kidding. You know that, right?"
Illya looked disappointed. "I'd be doing the world a favor."
"I know, but they'd probably deport you, and then who'd make me my exploding cufflinks? I think I'd rather keep you around, even if it means we both have to put up with Roberts."
Illya sighed. "All right."
Napoleon looked at Illya's eyes, and was relieved to see the twinkle there. He could see it would be a challenge to keep track of the Russian's sense of humor. He found himself looking forward to it.
*****
On his next mission, Napoleon found himself again tied up and, for several reasons, his thoughts drifted toward Illya. One of the reasons was because his hands were tied over his head and the last time he'd mentioned how much he hated that, it had been to Illya.
Another reason was that he wished he'd stopped in to see Illya before he left. Maybe the Russian had invented some sort of gadget that might have come in handy just about now.
But, there was another reason, less utilitarian. He just found it comforting to think of Illya. He wasn't even sure why. Napoleon had only talked to the man a handful of times, but he liked the Russian. A lot. Something in him reached to something in Napoleon.
Napoleon could hear footsteps and he brightened. Having the enemy around meant he might end up a bit bruised and battered while he was tied this way but it would also, if he were lucky and if he played his cards right, provide him with his way to escape.
Two hours later he'd retrieved his gun and communicator, called for backup, found the formula for the new chemical weapon, and only paid for it with a cracked rib or two and a few bruises. Napoleon thought it was a more than equitable trade.
When he got back to U.N.C.L.E., while he was leaning over for the receptionist to pin on his badge, she flipped through some messages. "I have a message for you. Yes, here it is. Dr. Kuryakin would like to see you."
That worked fine for Napoleon as he needed to deliver the formula to the lab anyway. He had been planning on giving it to Illya, but had been surprised when Waverly told him to make sure that the formula was only given to Illya. Napoleon found it gratifying that the old man clearly trusted his Russian addition.
Napoleon snuck by Roberts' lab, not wanting to deal with the unpleasant man, and entered Illya's. Once again he was sitting at the counter, staring into his microscope. "What could possibly be so interesting that every time I come in here you're staring at that thing?"
Illya looked up and flashed Napoleon a quick grin. "Hundreds of tiny pictures of naked women."
Napoleon grinned back. "I knew it." He handed Illya the formula retrieved from the Thrush satrapy. "Just in case you get bored, here's something else to keep you busy."
Illya took a quick look at it. "Mr. Waverly said you'd be dropping it by." He folded it and put it in his pants pocket.
Napoleon leaned against the counter, not in any hurry to leave. "Missy said you wanted to see me?"
Illya nodded and he reached around Napoleon to open a drawer. Napoleon couldn't keep a wince off his face as Illya inadvertently brushed against his bruised ribs.
Illya quickly pulled back. "Are you hurt?"
Napoleon was both impressed and annoyed that Illya had noticed. "I'm fine."
"What happened?"
Napoleon shook his head as if to dismiss the man's concern but then found himself answering. "They got in a few lucky punches." He made as if to demonstrate his hands tied over his head, but winced once more as the movement pulled on his ribs.
Illya frowned. "Over your head again?"
Napoleon waved a hand through the air, this time ready to dismiss the concerns. "I got the formula. All's well that ends well."
Illya shrugged, apparently agreeing. He walked around Napoleon this time so he wouldn't touch him when he opened the drawer. It crossed Napoleon's mind that he hadn't given it a thought that Illya had leaned across him, touching him before. It hadn't even occurred to him to feel that his personal space was being invaded.
Illya retrieved what he had been going after. He held out a watch. "Here."
"Oh, you shouldn't have." Napoleon showed Illya his watch. "I have one already." He grinned.
Illya rolled his eyes. "Take it off."
Napoleon complied. "What does the new one do?"
Illya demonstrated a small button on the side that once depressed caused a small, but wicked looking serrated blade to eject. "This should help cut ropes in the future."
Napoleon gave Illya a lopsided grin and took the watch.
Illya cautioned him, "Be careful, it's very sharp."
Napoleon nodded. He snapped the knife back in place and depressed the ejector button himself. "This is great. Does it do anything else?"
"It tells the time."
Napoleon snorted.
Then Illya took it back. He pointed toward the face of the watch. "It's also a compass." The corner of his lips quirked up. "Oh, and it's waterproof."
Napoleon gave Illya a look, took back the watch, slowly turning himself, holding the watch steady until he was pointing true north. "This will come in handy." He gave Illya a grateful grin. "For some reason, they almost always leave me my watch. I guess they want me to be able to keep track of how long they're making me miserable."
"Why don't you have a partner to get you out of these scrapes?"
Napoleon let out a sigh. "I'm supposed to have one. There wasn't anyone available when I came on and now I've gotten used to working by myself."
Illya moved back to where he had been standing by his microscope and he fiddled with the light knob. "Will they let you continue to work on your own?"
"Waverly has so far but he's starting to grumble. One of these days I'm sure I'll get called up to his office and be introduced to my new partner." Napoleon let a sour expression cross his face.
"You don't sound too happy about that."
Napoleon raked his fingers through his hair. "If I had the right partner it wouldn't be so bad, but what are the odds of that? I mean, the rest of the agents here are good, but I don't like the idea of trusting my back to just anyone." He pointed at his chest with a thumb. "At least I usually know what I'm thinking."
Illya's lips curled up in a small grin. "Only usually?"
Napoleon nodded, grinning. "Sometimes I surprise myself." He put his new watch on and admired it. "Thanks again for this."
Illya shrugged. "I'd tell you that I hope you don't need to use it, but it sounds like you invite trouble on a regular basis."
Napoleon mock snarled at Illya. "Hey, I resent that remark. No matter how true it is." He slipped his own watch into his pocket. "I better go."
Illya nodded, eying his microscope. "I need to work on this formula anyway."
Napoleon "You free for lunch?"
Illya gave him one of his shy smiles.
Napoleon found himself captivated by it again, and wished he had a reason to stay. But, he didn't. "I'll meet you at noon, then. Okay?"
Illya nodded.
There really wasn't anything else to say, so Napoleon told his feet sternly to head for the door and was relieved when they obeyed him.
*****
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