Napoleon Solo walked into his office and flipped on the light. He gave his stiff shoulders a shift and sighed. The agent made a be-line for his file cabinet and opening the top drawer he removed a clean, neatly folded white shirt tossing it on his desk. A low moan and he slipped off his jacket. He gave the sleeves a hard brush with his hand knocking the dirt off. Then he carefully draped it over the back if his chair.
He loosened his tie, pulling it over his head and tossing it on the desk. No need to untie it, he thought to himself, I'm just going to put it right back on. His sore, bruised fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dirty shirt.
"Let me give you a hand with that," a woman's voice said behind him.
Solo was startled but happy to hear the familiar voice. He turned and gave his assistant Raena a nod.
"How come you are the only person who can come thru that door without making a sound?"
"What makes you think I came through the door?" she said, "How do you know I wasn't already in here?" she added, smiling as her slender finger worked the buttons on the shirt, "I see you've been playing with the big boys again."
She carefully un-tucked his shirt and slipped it back off his shoulders.
"You have blood on your undershirt," she said.
"Don't worry," Napoleon said smiling, "It's not mine." He took hold of the shirt and began to pull it over his head.
Raena shook her head. He was in one of his "playful" moods today. She picked up the clean shirt from the desk, removed the small clips holding the shirt folded and tossed them into the wastepaper basket. A sharp shake and the shirt opened, full and wrinkle free. She turned back to Napoleon. For a moment she just stood looking at him.
Despite her best effort, she couldn't stop the blush that crossed her cheek.
Tall, handsome, he had broad shoulders, straight back and muscular arms. She tried to stifle her laugh as the under shirt finished slipping over his head, causing his hair to stand up in different directions. He looked in the cabinet to find another but was dismayed to find he didn't have one.
"No clean under shirt…Oh well, the girls think it's sexy when I don't wear one," he said trying not to smile.
Raena shook her head and held the shirt up as he slipped his arms in. She gave the back and shoulders a quick brush as the agent adjusted the garment. Stepping in front of him, her fingers began to button the front of the shirt while he fiddled with the cuffs.
"Napoleon Solo, you're a legend in your own mind," she said coolly.
The last button done, Napoleon smiled slyly and dropped his arms over her.
"Now how did I manage that?" he said twisting his wrist side to side.
Raena squirmed in his hold. She saw the coy look on his face and gave him a cool stare.
"I would appear, MR. SOLO, that you have buttoned the cuff of one sleeve to the cuff of the other."
Napoleon looked down into her face.
"And that was not easy to do I'm telling you," he said smiling broadly.
The phone rang. Raena slipped out under his arms, gave him a slight nudge and picked up the phone. While Napoleon worked the cuff buttons, he listened to her conversation. From the tone it was Mr. Waverly on the other end of the line. He slipped the tie over his head and adjusted it.
"….yes sir I have….I believe the expression is out of a wet paper bag…(she laughed)….I will do my best, sir."
Raena hung up the phone and looked at her boss.
"What was that about a paper bag?" he asked.
"Mr. Waverly saw the security footage from the warehouse, he said he was impressed by what a great shot you are, with your gun, but with your fist you couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag."
At this comment Napoleon looked very indignant. He folded his arms on top of the high pile of reports on his desk.
"He has asked me to line up a few sparing partners for you. He thinks a few rounds in the ring might loosen you up a bit. No judo just good old fashion self-defense."
Solo looked down at the folders.
"What about the reports?" he asked.
"Plenty of time for both…Which do you want to do first."
She saw that sneaky smirk cross his face.
"So I have a choice…the gym or the reports"
"Yes."
"I can decide which I want first.."
"Yes Napoleon. Which do you want to do first a few rounds in the boxing ring or the report bri….No Napoleon I am not going to say it."
"Come ooooon….say it.."
Napoleon tilted his head slightly and smiled at her.
"No."
"Saay it."
"No, Napoleon."
"Saaaaaaaaaaaaay it!" he continued, raising one eyebrow.
"N. O…NO. I won't." she said flustered.
He leaned towards her his face about to burst from the smile.
"Saaaaaaaay it!", Napoleon said once more, "That's an order." He smiled again.
"Oh, alright," she shouted to total frustration.
The door to the office opened and Illya started to walk in.
"Which do you prefer Napoleon" she shouted, "The Boxers or briefs?"
Kuryakin and several people walking past the open door suddenly stopped.
"Sorry," Illya said ducking back out the door, "Didn't mean to interrupt."
He quickly closed the door.
Napoleon looked at the flustered young woman.
"Sorry." he said timidly.
But they both fell into fits of laughter.