Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.

Pairing: Napoleon Solo/Illya Kuryakin

Category: gen?

Rating: G

Word Count: 920

Summary: Just a moment in a mission.

Table/Prompt: Inspired by Music Table Prompt: bemoan the wounds of Fortune with weeping eyes, for the gifts she made me she perversely takes away ~Carmina Burana and the LJ group Network_Command’s Seven Deadly Sins: Envy

 

“It’s no use, you realize.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pining,” the voice was smooth and silky and yet somehow cloying, like artificial rose perfume that leaves a bitterness hours after the roses fade. It seemed exotic at first but swiftly became tiring. “They only have eyes for one another, always have. And they are such a matched set, aren’t they?”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. We’ve been friends for years and that is all there is to it.”

“Now, certainly, but not at first. I’m right. I know I am. Don’t feel too bad about it, you wouldn’t be the first to try, you understand. I have been trying to pry them apart simply forever. It’s not to be done, you see.”

“I’m sure you have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Oh you poor deluded child, you really think you can catch him, don’t you, catch and keep him. Well, it’s your head and his brick wall.”

“Who asked you, anyway?”

“Oh, I just hoped that I could spare you my heartache. You see, I’ve been trying for just as long as you to keep Napoleon. It never works out. He was mine, you know, for a time.”

“Him? He’s a manipulating alley cat and you can have him.”

“Sadly, no I cannot, for the very same reason that you cannot have his partner.” She drained the champagne flute and traded it for another off the tray of a passing waiter. “I tried to assassinate him you know.”

“Illya?!” Marion’s voice was all shock and recoil.

“No, silly girl, Napoleon. It was clear I could never have him back, and I hated to lose to that cold fish of a partner of his. So I tried to kill him with a terribly deadly gift. My plan was foiled, of course. Damn that Russian.”

“I don’t see what your romantic problems have to do with me, and I don’t even know you anyway.” Marion turned away from the tall blonde and sniffed.

“Just trying to do a good deed, warning you. But you are welcome to go your own way. Don’t say you weren’t warned.”

And just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone into the crowd.

“Did you see someone you knew, Marion?”

“No,” Marion turned to find Justine returned from wherever she had been, “Some friend of Napoleon’s actually. She was a strange one.”

“They usually are.”

“I think we’ve let them alone long enough, don’t you?”

“Surely whatever nefarious scheme they planned has had time to finish by now, you suppose?”

They turned back to find that their dates were no longer at the bar across the room.

“Oh dear, perhaps the game is up?”

“What game would that be, my sweet?” Napoleon asked as he slipped an arm around Justine’s shoulders.

Illya stood close to Marion and leaned in to ask, “Who were you talking to just then?”

“I have no idea, she didn’t leave me her calling card. She seemed to know you though.”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged a look. “Really? And what did she have to say?”

“That she tried to kill you.”

Napoleon’s eyes widened just a fraction and then settled again into his usual charming expression. “That leaves the field wide open, then.”

Justine laughed, and after a beat Napoleon joined her while Marion looked puzzled and Illya grim.

“Did she give you anything?” Illya asked.

“Bad advice?” Marion tried to sound flip and succeeded only in sounding annoyed.

“May I see your handbag, Marion?”

“Excuse me?” she turned to glare at Illya.

“We were given a tip that there would be someone here tonight that had some inside information we need on an ongoing case, what exactly did she say and did she touch any of your things? She may have passed on a microdot while she was distracting you.”

“Oh,” Marion handed her clutch to Illya. “I’ve had it under my arm the whole time.”

Illya looked inside, inventoried the coin purse, lipstick and compact, closed it again, sensitive fingers stroking the soft calfskin of the outer parts of the purse. In a fold of the leather he found what he was looking for, held it up for Napoleon to see and then disappeared it into his own pocket. He handed the clutch back to Marion. “Thank you. We need to get this to headquarters.”

“So that’s what you meant by a quick drink, is that it?”

“I am sorry Marion. We needed a cover and you and Justine can be trusted to keep quiet in a difficult spot, but we didn’t want you worried.”

“In other words, we were handy, again.”

“Now Marion…”

“Justine, let’s go, I promise to show you a much better time than this.”

Before either man could protest, Marion had taken Justine by the arm and led her away, Justine looking over her shoulder a little bewildered at the two U.N.C.L.E. agents.

“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us out of.”

“Isn’t that my job, Napoleon?”

“I wonder who the courier was?”

“Could have been any of a dozen THRUSH who are able to recognize us on sight, not to mention that have tried to kill you.”

“But not you?”

“That does narrow the field somewhat, but not very much.”

“Well, whoever it was certainly killed our social life tonight.”

“As usual, Napoleon…”

“Don’t say it,” Napoleon interrupted Illya, “we have each other, I know.”

Illya only smiled his best sphinx smile and led the way out of the nightclub.