The Better Gadget Affair
by: RAC
Rated NC-17
Napoleon tried to rein in his temper but he was only nominally successful. "Roberts, all I need you to do is tell me if you have something I can use."
"And I already told you, if you need to cut through that safe, you need an acetylene torch, and if you need an acetylene torch, that's what we have." He pointed to a briefcase which held the torch in question and a canister of gas.
"And I already told you, it's too large. I have to be inconspicuous."
"What could be more inconspicuous than a briefcase?" Roberts objected.
"I'll have to open it up at their security checkpoint. What reason am I supposed to give for carrying an acetylene torch in my briefcase?"
"That's not my problem, Solo. I've told you what we have. That's all anyone would have. If it isn't going to work then it sounds like you need a new plan."
Napoleon chewed the inside of his cheek. What he really needed was Illya, but when he'd come down here yesterday morning to discuss what he needed for this case his lab was locked, and the man was nowhere to be found. "When is Illya going to be back?"
Roberts' eyes shot daggers at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know? Just because I'm the Chief of this section and supposed to be the commie's boss, do you think anyone tells me anything? No, he just up and vanishes. And when I talk to Waverly, he just tells me to mind my own business, that the little queer is allowed to do as he pleases."
Napoleon's eyes hardened. "The little what?"
"You heard me. Queer. It's not bad enough that the man is a stinking commie, he's also a faggot."
Napoleon tried very, very hard not to punch the man. "Roberts, I already told you that your bigotry is out of place in an organization like this. It's blinded you to the point that you wouldn't recognize talent if it steamrolled right over you."
Roberts gave him a suspicious glare. "You seem to spend a lot of your time with him. What's that about? And I hear about the gadgets he's making you. What are you doing for him? Giving him head?"
Napoleon wondered, and not for the first time, why a man like this was still working for U.N.C.L.E.. He started weighing out the possible consequences if he just beat the crap out of Roberts. When he had all but decided that any consequences would be worth the satisfaction he'd derive from the experience, he suddenly saw Illya at the window to Roberts' lab gesturing at him to come out.
Without another word Napoleon pushed past Roberts and followed Illya to his lab. He waited until Illya unlocked the door before he spoke his peace. "Where the hell have you been? I've been having to deal with that…with that…excrement."
Illya grinned at him. "Sorry."
Napoleon snorted. "You don't sound like you're sorry at all."
Illya's eyes twinkled. "I have something for you."
While Napoleon would be thrilled at any gadget Illya gave him, what he really needed what a miniature acetylene torch. He muttered, "I hope it's an acetylene torch."
"It is. A miniature one." He took a pen out of his pocket and handed it to Napoleon.
Napoleon gaped at the pen in his hand. "This is a torch?"
Illya nodded. He unscrewed the pen and flipped up the small nozzle. "It doesn't hold much, needless to say, so I made you two." He pulled out another pen. "This one is a mechanical pencil." Using the pencil, he fully demonstrated its torch workings by flipping up the small nozzle and pushing up a switch until a small hissing was heard.
Taking a lighter he flicked it and the torch was lit. "Each one will only last for forty five seconds." He shut off the gas. Reaching into his pocket he took out two small tubes that looked like ink cartridges. "I made two replacement gas canisters." He showed Napoleon how to change it out. "That will give you, seeing as I've just used about four seconds of gas, about two minutes and fifty-six seconds."
Napoleon was speechless. Then his eyes narrowed. "Not that I'm not grateful, but how did you know I needed this?"
"Lucky guess."
Napoleon shook his head. "I fell for that one once already. I only got the case file the day before yesterday and it hasn't been out of my office."
Illya gave him a suspiciously innocent look. Then he spoiled it all when he said, "Speaking of your office, do you need a good lock pick?"
Napoleon's eyes widened. "Illya, did you break into my office?"
Illya let out a tsk tsk noise. "You really should have Waverly beef up the security in this place, Napoleon. It was ridiculously easy to get in."
"No, the fact is that I shouldn't have to worry about people breaking into my office, especially U.N.C.L.E. employees."
"But if I can get in, Thrush could get in." Then Illya hesitated, his head cocked to one side. "Well, that's probably not true, but the point remains that I was able to get in too easily."
Napoleon blew out a frustrated breath. "That file was top secret. If I reported you, you'd get yanked in front of a security hearing."
Illya shook his head. "I have top security clearance."
Napoleon stared at Illya. "You have top security clearance?"
Illya nodded.
"Why?"
Illya shrugged. "Does it matter?"
"If you have top security clearance, why did you break into my office to see that file? Why didn't you just ask to see it?"
"It wouldn't be as much fun."
Napoleon was speechless, but not for long. "As much fun?" At Illya's nod he let out a short laugh. "Kuryakin, I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite like you." He frowned. "Are you sure you have security clearance?"
"Quite sure. Check with Waverly if you don't believe me."
Napoleon glanced down at the small gadgets in his hand. "So, let me make sure I understand this. You broke into my office to read the case I'm working on. After reading it, you somehow came to the same conclusion as I did that I'd need a miniature torch, and that's why you've been gone, so you could make me one?"
Illya scrunched his face up. "It does sound a bit farfetched, doesn't it?"
Napoleon was overwhelmed. No one had ever done something like that for him. It was as if Illya had made it his own personal responsibility to make Napoleon succeed at his missions and get home safely. It was as if Illya was his guardian angel.
Napoleon realized that if anyone else had done this, his sense of privacy would feel invaded. But, somehow with Illya, it just made him feel like his life couldn't be in better hands. A slow smile formed on his face. "Promise me you won't ever go away, all right?"
The smile he got in return was incandescent. "I'll do my best." Illya pointed at the lab next door. "What was Roberts ranting about?"
Napoleon snorted in derision. "Apparently, I'm exchanging sexual favors for your gadgets."
Illya's eyes widened and he looked down at the devices in Napoleon's hand. He grinned at Napoleon mischievously. "It might take you some time to work off these."
Napoleon snickered. Then he gave Illya a glance, remembering what Roberts had said. For a second he wondered if Illya meant it. For a second he found himself considering it. Then he shook it all off. Of course Illya didn't mean it. Napoleon was embarrassed he'd even thought such a thing. And for some reason he didn't even want to think about exploring, he felt a little disappointed.
He met Illya's eyes and saw another twinkle in the Russian's gaze, almost as if he were following Napoleon's disjointed thoughts. Napoleon rolled his eyes. "I have to leave this afternoon, but when I get back, I owe you dinner." He clenched his fingers around the small torches. "Thanks for these."
Illya waved off his thanks as if it were nothing, as if magically meeting Napoleon's needs was an everyday occurrence. "Just come back in one piece and try not to burn yourself."
Napoleon echoed Illya's earlier words. "I'll do my best." He turned to leave but then he mock glared at the Russian. "And next time? Just ask me for the file, all right?"
Illya just stared at him.
Napoleon sighed and held out his other hand. "While you're plying me with new and revised products you might as well give me whatever lock pick you used. If you can get into my office with it, it's better than anything I have."
Illya pulled out a slender bit of wire from his pocket and handed it to Napoleon.
Napoleon took it and frowned. "This is it? It looks just like a lock pick. I'm disappointed. I would have expected you to disguise it as a tie tack, or a cigar."
Illya flashed him a disgruntled look. "I'm working on it."
Napoleon beamed at him. "My friend, I'm sure you are."
*****
Napoleon made his way up to Waverly's office. Lisa waved him on in. "He's expecting you, Napoleon."
Napoleon gave her one of his most charming smiles and entered his boss's office.
"Yes, Mr. Solo?"
"I wanted to talk to you about Illya Kuryakin."
Waverly gave him a sharp glance. "I do trust you're not going to complain about his place of origin."
Napoleon frowned as he realized that too many people must have been doing that to get Waverly in a snit about it. "No. I think he's great. He's already made me some gadgets that are better than any I've seen. As far as I'm concerned he should be in charge of that lab."
Waverly harrumphed. "I'm glad to hear it. So, what is it you want to say? Or was that it?"
Napoleon cleared his throat. "Does he…ah…does he have top security clearance?"
Waverly sucked on his pipe for a second as he eyed Napoleon. Napoleon tried very hard not to fidget. It was never comfortable to get all of Waverly's regard. "Yes, he does."
Napoleon was relieved to hear that, but he was still confused about it. "May I ask why?"
Waverly tapped out his pipe into his ashtray. "No, you may not."
Napoleon frowned. "May I ask why I may not?"
"No, you may not."
Napoleon sighed. None of this was making sense. The man worked for Roberts but he seemed to answer to Waverly, and Waverly was keeping secrets. Well, Napoleon would see about that. He was a spy, after all.
"Is there anything else, Mr. Solo? I do have one or two things that are calling for my attention."
The sarcasm wasn't lost on Napoleon. "Just one more thing. I need to let you know about Roberts. He's saying some very unpleasant things about Illya. I don't normally rat on my fellow employees but his comments are a bit beyond the pale."
Waverly packed some new tobacco into his pipe. "I'm well aware of Roberts' attitude toward our newest acquisition."
That wasn't good enough. Napoleon knew that Illya would never complain about it and it needed to stop. "Are you going to speak with him?" At Waverly's look, Napoleon could see he'd overstepped his bounds. He stood.
Waverly's voice was dismissive. "I believe you have a mission to attend to."
"Yes, sir." Napoleon quickly left the office before Waverly could give him something unpleasant to do.
*****
One week later, Napoleon was none the wiser. He'd charmed his way into personnel, only to find that they didn't have a file on Illya. Next he used the lock pick Illya had given him and snuck into Roberts' office.
When he managed to get the locked file cabinet open and saw the man's employee files, including one on Illya, he let out a sigh of satisfaction. He lifted it out and sat at Roberts' desk to read it. Napoleon frowned when he opened it and only found loose-leaf paper inside. Curious, he picked up the top sheet and began to read.
He didn't get far before he dropped the page, afraid the virulent ravings on the page might poison him. He cautiously peeked at the other pages and found more of the same. Roberts had written page after page of narrative about Illya, all of it vituperative. Openly hostile, suspicious, casting Illya in a one-man plot to take over New York and then the world, all while engaging in deviant sexual acts.
Napoleon closed the file and rapped his knuckles against his lips. As far as Napoleon was concerned, Roberts' thoughts on Illya declared him as unstable. He debated whether he ought to show this file to Waverly, but then he'd have to explain how it came to be that he was in Roberts' office in the first place. And that meant telling Waverly that he was ignoring his order to leave the issue of Illya alone which wouldn't endear himself to the old man. He decided to leave it alone for the time being. Hopefully Roberts would just hang himself if he were given enough rope.
Napoleon stood and slipped the file back in place, relocking the file cabinet, and then Roberts' office door. He stood in the hallway wondering where to look next. If Illya's file wasn't in personnel and it wasn't in Roberts' office, then it meant it was probably in Waverly's office. Napoleon wasn't foolish enough to even think about trying to break into the old man's inner sanctum.
He made a few phone calls to London HQ but that didn't garner him any information. It was as if Illya had just materialized into his U.N.C.L.E. lab. Not that Napoleon wasn't thrilled about that. His gadgets had already helped him succeed in his missions several times over. He'd come home from his last affair without even a scratch.
But it wasn't only the gadgets. Napoleon found himself liking the man more and more. Despite the fact that they were from opposite ends of the earth, Napoleon felt more comfortable with him than with anyone else of his acquaintance.
What he didn't like was having a mystery so close to home. Because it meant that Illya could disappear as easily as he had appeared and that wasn't even remotely okay. Now that Illya was a part of Napoleon's life, Napoleon wanted to keep it that way.
*****
Napoleon spent a bit of energy smiling at life's latest ironies, knowing it might be the last thing he ever found amusing. He tried to draw a breath, but there was barely enough oxygen left to feed his starving cells.
He was surrounded by all of Illya's gadgets. His watch with the serrated knife, compass showing he was lying with his feet pointing due south. His exploding cufflinks were at the ready, or one of them at any rate. He had one of the mini torches in his pocket, and Illya's newest gadget, a smoke bomb, hidden in the heel of his shoe.
But none of them would help him now. He was locked in an airtight room. There were no windows, and the one door was steel with an airtight seal and no mechanism to open it from the inside. He'd already tried one of the cufflinks on the door and gotten nothing for it except several minutes of coughing from smoke that had nowhere to go.
This seemed such a stupid way to die. Napoleon assumed his incarceration had something to do with the case he was on, but as he'd been knocked unconscious before being thrown in here, he couldn't be positive who his captor was.
Apparently he wasn't even going to be interrogated. Just left here to die. And die he would, probably in a few more minutes. He glanced at his watch, knew that he'd now missed the second arranged check-in time. That meant that U.N.C.L.E. would be out looking for him, but no one knew where he was.
So that meant he was going to die. A surge of anger went through him at his fatalistic attitude. Despite the fact that it was probably true, he couldn't stand the thought of so thoroughly cooperating with whoever had thrown him in here.
He gave the room another cursory look, hoping that maybe he'd missed something during the last 100 times he'd done this exercise. Nothing. The room was completely empty, concrete floor, no furniture, no window, and the sealed, featureless door. No vents, nothing.
Napoleon pulled himself across the floor until he was sitting in one of the corners. He found himself thinking of Illya, wondering if the gadget genius himself could find a way to break out of this room. Napoleon wished with all his heart that Illya would just appear. Just materialize into this room the way he did in the lab but with some gizmo that would blow the room to smithereens.
His breaths were coming in little gasps now, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he lost consciousness. His head sinking to his knees, he wondered who would defend Illya from Roberts now if he died in this room.
"Napoleon!"
Napoleon tried to lift his head, but he had no strength left.
"Napoleon! Are you in there?"
Napoleon smiled when he realized who the voice belonged to, but then he frowned. If he was going to hallucinate about Illya, the least he could do was show up inside the room.
"Napoleon, if you can hear me, get away from the door."
At least it sounded as if his hallucination was obliging his wishful thinking by bringing something that would blow the room up. That was nice. The door exploded with a loud bang and slammed into the room. Napoleon was glad he hadn't been sitting there. That would have hurt.
Then Illya was there, shaking his shoulders. "Breathe, Napoleon. Take in a deep breath."
Napoleon was beginning to wonder if maybe this wasn't a hallucination after all. But it had to be, because why would Illya be rescuing him? He decided to play along and drew in a deep breath. He could feel the fresh air entering his body; it made his chest ache. He let out a groan and dropped his head against Illya's chest.
"That's right, keep breathing."
Napoleon obeyed, feeling safe and warm as Illya's arms supported him. He snuggled in against Illya a little more. After all, this was his hallucination; he could do what he wanted.
He smiled as he felt Illya's hand touch his hair, as he listened to Illya croon at him in Russian. He had no idea what he was saying but it sounded nice.
Napoleon's head began to clear. And as his head cleared, he began to realize that this wasn't a hallucination. That he could breathe, that the door had been blown off his prison, that his rescuer was Illya, and that he was currently practically in the man's lap. And he didn't particularly want to get off.
But, apparently Illya was monitoring him and could tell he was coming around. He pushed Napoleon away gently until he was sitting against the wall again. "Are you all right?"
Napoleon nodded. He took in the door which was lying askew on the ground. "What'd you use?"
"Hand grenade."
"Who else is here?"
"Just me."
Napoleon shook his head to try and clear away the rest of the cobwebs. "Just you?"
Illya nodded.
"Why?"
"You missed two of your check-ins."
"I know that. But why just you? Where's the rest of the team?"
Illya shrugged. "I suspect that they're looking for you in the wrong place."
Napoleon let out an exasperated laugh. "How, and mind you, I'm not complaining, did you happen to know the right place to look?"
Illya tapped Napoleon's watch. "Homing beacon."
Napoleon looked at the watch. "There's a homing beacon in this?"
Illya nodded. "It's a prototype."
"Ah. And once again I'm your guinea pig?"
Another nod. "I didn't think you'd mind."
Napoleon grinned at Illya. His guardian angel had struck again. "No, I don't mind." He glanced out the open door. "Did you see anyone when you came in?"
Illya shook his head. "I didn't do a complete search as I was homing in on your signal but no one tried to stop me from getting in."
Napoleon let his head fall back against the wall. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to let one of the agents know about the watch and let them come and get me? If there'd been enemy agents here you could have been killed."
"It occurred to me."
"Let me guess. It wouldn't have been as much fun, right?"
Illya flashed him a grin.
Napoleon shook his head in mock dismay. "Illya, Illya, Illya, what am I going to do with you?" Then a thought occurred to him. "How did you know I missed two of my check-ins?" He pointed a warning finger at the man. "And don't tell me it was a lucky guess."
He was amazed when Illya's face reddened and turned away.
Napoleon reached out a hand and grabbed Illya's chin, turning his head back to face him. "Do you always keep track of me when I'm on a mission?"
The red grew deeper and Illya jerked his head out of Napoleon's hand. "I think it's time to go, don't you?"
Napoleon supposed it was. After all, he still had a mission to finish. "I need to look around, see if they left any clues."
Illya stood and gave Napoleon a helping hand to stand up. "I will help you."
Napoleon guessed it was safe enough. "I don't suppose you saw my gun and communicator lying around anywhere, did you?"
Illya shook his head. At Napoleon's scowl he gave Napoleon a dry smile. "At least they left you your watch."
Napoleon slung his arm around Illya's shoulder. "That they did, my very clever Russian, that they did."
*****
Three days later, his gun and communicator successfully stolen back from the Thrush agent who had taken them, wearing a grin due to the successful demise of another satrapy, Napoleon made his way down to Illya's lab. He peered in the window and lost his grin when he saw Roberts in with Illya, apparently giving Illya a piece of his mind.
Illya's face was as stony as Napoleon had ever seen it, which seemed to be infuriating Roberts. Napoleon could hear him yell, "Are you listening to me?"
Napoleon had to grin at Illya's response even if he knew it wouldn't score the Russian any points. "It would be difficult not to."
Napoleon watched as Roberts' face grew beet red. The explosion was not pretty. "Listen you goddamn commie bastard, if you think you can come in here and play traitor with no one the wiser, you're out of your damn mind. I'm watching you." Roberts punctuated his angry words with a finger that poked at Illya's chest.
With a quick motion, Illya shoved the hand away. "Do not touch me."
Napoleon couldn't believe Roberts stayed there. If anyone had looked at him the way Illya was looking at Roberts, Napoleon would have either started to run or drawn his gun. But Roberts was almost frothing at the mouth and beyond caring. He shoved Illya, hard enough to push him against the counter. "I'll touch you if I goddamn want to. Don't you ever tell me…"
Napoleon didn't need to see or hear anymore of this. He prodded the door open. "Oh, am I interrupting?"
When Roberts spun to face him, Napoleon thought he might need to draw his gun. The man was like a rabid dog. Roberts sneered at him. "Oh, it's the fucking commie lover."
Napoleon counted to five in hopes it would keep him from slugging Roberts. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door. "Out."
"You're not CEA, Solo, in fact, you're far from it. You're just a lousy agent. I'm the Director of this lab and that means I can be wherever the hell I want in it."
Napoleon opened his mouth but Illya beat him to it with an angry look. "Napoleon, keep out of it." He turned to Roberts. "Get out, now. If you don't like it, take it up with Mr. Waverly."
"Oh, sure. Throw that in my face. What the hell did you do to talk him into letting you come here? Do you suck his cock, you goddamn queer?" Something in Illya's face must have finally gotten through because a flash of panic crossed Roberts' face and he barreled his way out the door.
When he was gone, Illya turned back to Napoleon. "I do not need you to fight my fights for me."
Napoleon shot his cuffs and adjusted his tie, trying to let the adrenaline fade a little. "Seeing as how you're always watching my back, it seems the least you could do is allow me the right to do the same every now and then."
Illya blew out an exasperated breath. "It is bad enough he hates me, now he will just hate you too."
Napoleon let out a short laugh. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Tovarisch, but he's never liked me either. We're in this one together."
That got a quick grin out of Illya. "I've been with worse company."
Napoleon sketched out a bow. "Why, thank you, kind sir." He turned to the door. "Want to go get some lunch?"
Illya took off his lab coat, and shrugged into his suit jacket. "As long as we eat somewhere Roberts can't slip poison into our food."
Napoleon let out a rueful laugh. "Good thinking. Let's go out to eat."
*****
Napoleon sat at the oval table, waiting for his boss to finish up his call. When Waverly was done, he harrumphed and furrowed his brow. "Yes, Mr. Solo, what can I do for you?"
"It's Roberts, sir. He continues to harass Illya, and I think it's bordering on violence."
"Yes, yes, you've shared this with me before."
"I think it's getting worse."
"I'll take it under advisement. Is there anything else?"
"I'd like to know what you intend to do about Roberts."
Waverly flashed Napoleon one of his looks. "I do not believe this matter concerns you."
"But…"
"You've brought the matter to my attention. Now, if there's nothing else." Waverly rose to retrieve a file.
Napoleon rose also, frustrated with how this conversation was going. He didn't trust Roberts, and he sure as hell didn't like how he treated Illya. He tried one more time. "I thought you wanted a Russian scientist here."
Waverly looked up and frowned. "Are you still here, Mr. Solo?"
"Yes, sir."
Waverly followed the conversation back to the question. "I do. That's why Mr. Kuryakin is with us."
"So…" Napoleon tried to ask the question as respectfully as possible, "…why do you allow someone like Roberts to undermine him?" He sincerely hoped he hadn't pushed too far. Napoleon had caught on pretty quickly that Waverly didn't like being questioned. But he'd be damned if he didn't try to do as good a job protecting the man who spent so much of his time protecting him.
Waverly gave him a long and pointed look, and Napoleon had to work hard not to squirm. When Waverly completely changed the subject, Napoleon wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. "Have you given any thought to a partner?"
Napoleon let out a small sigh. "No, sir."
"Perhaps your time might be better spent in that direction. If you do not have someone chosen by the end of the month, I'll choose someone for you."
Napoleon thought about complaining for a moment and then decided he'd get thrown out on his ear. As Waverly seemed to be focusing completely on the file in his hands, Napoleon let himself out.
*****
The next day as Napoleon made his way down to the lab, he realized that he was starting most of his days like this. At least the days he was at headquarters. His day just seemed to flow better after stopping in to visit with his Russian genius.
The thought stopped Napoleon in his tracks for a moment. It hadn't really occurred to him how quickly he'd become accustomed to having Illya in his life. He saw him first thing in the morning, had lunch with him when they were both free. At least once or twice a week they went out for dinner or went to listen to music. Napoleon grinned. He spent more time with Illya than everyone else combined.
He'd never had anyone just steal their way into his life so easily. It was a bit disconcerting. For a few seconds Napoleon thought about going to his office and skipping the routine visit. He wasn't sure he liked the sense of need he felt for the Russian; he worked hard at keeping all his relationships on a surface level but somehow Illya had gotten past all his alarm systems. Napoleon muttered, "I might as well be dating him."
One of the secretaries looked up in passing. "Did you say something, Napoleon?" She had a hopeful look on her face.
Napoleon looked at her while he decided whether he'd rather be with her or with Illya. He let out a quiet snort. No contest. "No. No. Just muttering to myself." Wanting to avoid any other conversation, he headed to where his heart had already been leading him - to the lab.
When he approached the door, he heard conversation and wondered if he'd be breaking up another altercation between Illya and Roberts. Despite his complaints to Waverly, it didn't seem as if anything had changed. Roberts was as vitriolic as ever.
But when Napoleon pushed open the door, Illya was talking to another Section 2 agent, a man named Bellingham. Napoleon felt a surge of something unpleasant rush through him when he saw Illya handing Bellingham a pair of exploding cufflinks.
Bellingham closed his fists over them. "Thanks, Dr. Kuryakin. You're the best. These are so much better than the last model." Still smiling, he turned and saw Napoleon. "Hey Solo. I see you've found the best place to come for gadgets, hmm? This guy's a damn genius." With another nod of thanks at Illya, Bellingham left.
Napoleon tried to figure out what he was feeling. He normally liked Bellingham. He was good-natured and knew how to handle himself out in the field. If Bellingham didn't already have a partner, Napoleon might have considered him for that role. But right now, all he wanted to do was run after him, take those cufflinks back, and tell him to stay away from Illya.
He could see himself doing it. Saw himself grabbing Bellingham's hand, snatching the cufflinks, brandishing them in his fist as he yelled, 'Mine, mine, mine.'
"Are you all right?"
"Hmmm?" Napoleon looked up to find Illya's blue eyes gazing at him with some concern. His little fantasy must have taken longer than he'd realized. "Yeah, sure, why?"
Illya shook his head. "Never mind."
Napoleon moved to the counter and leaned against it. "I didn't realize you were making gadgets for other agents." He hoped he was coming across with the right degree of nonchalance.
Illya raised his eyebrows. His voice was dry when he spoke. "I hardly think Waverly would find it efficient to hire me to make gadgets exclusively for you."
Napoleon snorted out a laugh. "No, I suppose not. I just…" He just what? Thought that Illya was only his? Thought that Illya was just making gadgets for him? Maybe Illya watched out for all the agents. Maybe he rescued all of them from certain death. Maybe he should have asked whatshername for a date.
"Napoleon? Are you sure you're all right?"
Illya's touch on his upper arm brought his train of thought to an abrupt stop. When Napoleon saw the large hand curled around his tricep, a lick of heat flushed through him. Illya was alarmingly close to him. Too close. Not close enough. Napoleon shook his head in frustration. "I'm fine. I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night."
Illya gave him a considered look and then moved to open his magic drawer; the one that contained gadgets that Napoleon used to imagine belonged only to him. Illya drew out a lighter. "I made something new."
Napoleon looked at it, some of the wonder of it lost in his jealousy. "Did you give one to Bellingham, too?" He almost cringed at the whine in his voice.
Illya's fingers closed around the lighter and his head cocked to the side as he scrutinized Napoleon. Napoleon felt like a bug under glass or like something on one of Illya's slides. Then Illya took Napoleon's hand and placed the lighter in it. "No. I told you that you were my guinea pig. I try them out on you. If you like them, I make them available for the other agents."
That made Napoleon feel marginally better. But not completely. "So, do you…do you break into everyone's office?" He closed his eyes, willing the blush he felt heating his face to go away, annoyed at how needy he felt. He was definitely spending too much time down here.
He felt a touch on his face and he opened his eyes to find affectionate eyes staring at him, Illya's fingers grazing the cleft of his chin. When Napoleon's eyes met Illya's, the Russian's lips curved in a gentle smile and he dropped his hand. "No, Napoleon. I only break into your office."
Even through his jealousy Napoleon could appreciate how silly the conversation was. He grinned at Illya. "Yeah, well, keep it that way. You never know where those other office doors have been."
Illya rolled his eyes. "May I show you how this works now or do you need further reassurance that I live and breathe only for you?"
The tone and the expression were pure sarcasm but the words made their way into Napoleon's ears and lodged inside his heart. He wished he knew what was going on in Illya's head, if there was any truth at all to the sentence he'd just spoken.
Napoleon glanced at the lighter. "Let me guess. It's a lighter."
"Very droll." Illya scooped it off Napoleon's palm. With a few adjustments, he handed it back to Napoleon. "It's a gun. A small gun, I'll grant you, and it only holds two bullets of fairly small caliber, but it might come in handy."
Napoleon gave Illya an admiring look. "I like it." He held it up, aiming.
Illya scrounged around in the drawer and came up with two bullets. He demonstrated loading it. Then he dragged Napoleon across the room to where he had some heavy padding against the wall. "You need to be close for it to penetrate any distance." He pointed at the padding. "Shoot it."
Napoleon took him at his word, ignored his small wish that the bullet would punch through the wall and accidentally hit Roberts, and fired. The gun barely recoiled and, after checking, he saw that the bullet punctured but didn't make it through the padding. He would have to be close. But even one of these bullets at close range would put someone out of commission long enough for him to get away or finish the job with something else.
Napoleon fired again, this time checking its aim. Satisfied, Napoleon closed the mechanism up. Then he clicked open the lid to the lighter and flicked it. He flashed Illya a grin when a small flame resulted. "Illya, my friend, you've outdone yourself. I owe you another dinner."
Illya opened the drawer and handed him two more bullets. "These are the last two. I'll have more made and get them sent up to your office."
Napoleon gave him a mock wounded look. "You're going to have them sent up? You're not going to break into my office in the dead of night and leave them in a basket with some chocolates on my desk? I'm crushed."
Illya blinked at him and shook his head. "Go away now so I can think of someplace sinfully expensive for you to take me to dinner."
Napoleon surrendered ungracefully. "Just don't ask me to light any cigarettes for you. My finger might slip."
Illya let out a chuff of laughter. "If your finger slips, you'll be back to Roberts and his gadgets."
Napoleon let out a shiver. "I'll leave the lighter at home." He looked at his watch. "Gotta go. I'm due at a meeting."
Illya acknowledged his words with a nod, and moved back to his microscope. One of these days, Napoleon was going to take a look in there and see what kept Illya so fascinated. With a jaunty wave, Napoleon left the lab.
*****
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