Sidney Miller was practically dancing down the corridors of UNCLE New York, something not generally anticipated by the normally stoic inhabitants. Saving the world was serious business, and those whose jobs it was to do the saving tended to be a rather serious bunch.
Napoleon Solo watched with a look of amusement on his face as the young man made his way delivering the mail to various offices along his route. A blond with decidedly less appreciation for the ebullient Sidney came up beside the residing CEA.
"He is bordering on annoying, don't you think?" Illya Kuryakin tended to be one of the more serious members of the Command.
"Oh I don't know, he's just a happy kind of guy. There's nothing wrong with that, although I'm not sure how Mr. Waverly would feel about the way he sort of hops between doorways." It was as though an internal radio station was playing in Sidney's head, giving him the soundtrack for his own private musical.
"He reminds me of the popcorn machine at a movie theater, just constantly spilling over. I don't know, Napoleon, he's entirely too happy if you ask me." What constituted regular happy was something for another conversation.
April Dancer came up next to her two superiors, a smile on her face indicating she was also interested in Sidney's progress. "I think he's adorable, always so happy and polite. I wish I could maintain that kind of joyful attitude. You can tell he isn't Section II." That last had a wistful sound to it.
Illya turned to look at the young woman, dressed as always in something straight off a fashion magazine cover. It wasn't surprising that April found Sidney less annoying than he did; she was herself a happy sort of girl.
"I don't suppose you'd like to take a turn on the UNCLE dance floor, Miss Dancer." Illya said it without a hint of sarcasm, and before she could agree to it he had her in his arms in a sort of waltzing jitterbug that not only perplexed but totally thrilled the auburn-haired agent.
Napoleon stood with his mouth open as his normally staid partner twirled and twisted down the corridor, amazing not only him but everyone whose open door allowed a glimpse of the pair. When Illya and April had covered the space between where they began and the end of the hallway, the elevator door opened to reveal none other than Alexander Waverly. Illya quickly dropped his arms to his side, as did April; each of them hoping the old man didn't have a monitor inside that elevator.
"Oh..ahemm... Hello, Mr. ummm Kuryakin, Miss Dancer.' The head of UNCLE Northwest gave his agents a visual once over. "You two appear to be rather flushed, are you all right?"
April was mortified but Illya merely smiled. "No sir, I was instructing Miss Dancer on some useful maneuvers that she might need in future, taking advantage of the empty hallway.' He motioned back towards Napoleon, and the hallway was indeed empty. "I believe she is better informed now, sir."
Waverly looked them over once more, certain that the Russian was spinning things in a manner worthy of his Soviet upbringing. Miss Dancer seemed more than willing to take his lead.
"Well then, carry on. I shouldn't want either of you to be unprepared for any eventualities." With that he punched a button on the elevator panel and nodded his farewell as the doors closed.
"Oh my, Illya that was... I don't know what that was." April was giddy, dancing with Illya had been thrilling and so spontaneous she didn't know what to think. It was so unlike Kuryakin, or so she thought.
"Was it fun? More importantly, did it make you happy?" There was a sudden tenderness in his question, his blue eyes searching her brown ones for some sort of answer beyond what his words said. Happy?
"Yes, I think I am very happy. Dancing down the halls of UNCLE for no reason other than the sheer joy of it ... definitely happy." Something passed between them, but only for a moment.
"Say you two, that was quite a show. I don't suppose you'd like to clue me in on that little exhibition, hmmm?" He knew April had a thing for his partner, knew that Illya had set it aside in favor of professionalism and practicality. Dancing down the halls of Headquarters was neither professional nor practical.
Illya smiled, though still not touching April he knew there was a connection between them nonetheless.
"It was just all of that talk about Sidney being so happy... I thought I'd give it a try." Illya smiled at his friend with that Cheshire expression he was so good at.
"MmmHmm... Okay, if that's what makes you happy then, dance on. Perhaps the two of you might consider just going out sometime and doing the dancing on a real dance floor. Just a suggestion, mind you, but if happy is what you're after..." He winked and turned back towards the office he'd been standing in when all of this started.
April felt suddenly uneasy, wondering if Illya was actually going to follow Napoleon's advice and ... ask her out. Now that was a possibility she wasn't sure she should, or could... Darn it!
Illya's mind was racing with similar thoughts. He did like April, but they were both Section II. It would be complicated, possibly ... something else.
"Oh, that's Napoleon for you, huh Illya. He's always thinking a night on the town is the perfect answer to every situation. Personally I loved our little dance, it was just right." Oh, was she making a mistake? Maybe she should have let him speak first.
Illya understood perfectly what April was doing, and inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe some day, but not today. Dancing in the hallway with her had made him feel happy, and that was good enough.
Small steps. Small, happy steps.