The two agents arrived in front of Del Floria's at the same time. Acknowledging each other wordlessly, they stepped quickly down the steps and through the door, causing the bell above to ring vigorously. They nodded at Agent Del Floria who returned the greeting and pressed twice on his iron to signal the receptionist to expect the door to open as they walked into the last changing room. Illya pulled the curtain as Napoleon twisted the clothing hook that was the final step to open the eighteen inches thick steel reinforced door.

"Good morning, Denise! You look absolutely ravishing this morning! Is that a new hairstyle? It is very becoming." Napoleon's smile was as bright and dazzling as the compliments he had just bestowed and he was delighted to see the redhead blush. He looked at his partner who was standing stone-faced on the side of Denise's desk and winked. He laughed to himself when the Russian scowled and looked away.

"Oh, Mr. Solo, you are such a flatterer! What am I going to do with you?" she gushed as she attached his badge to his lapel.

"Whatever you want to, my Little Flower," he smoothly replied, "Why don't I take you to lunch at noon so we can discuss it further?"

At that, Illya cleared his throat and said, "I hate to break up this little tete a tete but, may I have my badge please, Denise?"

Denise blushed even more as she had almost forgotten the man was standing there. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kuryakin! Here's your badge," she answered as she passed his badge along. All the receptionists knew that as much as Napoleon liked having his badge pinned on, that was how much Illya disliked being touched. Anyone who dared to try would be met with the icy glare that had earned him the nickname "The Ice Prince."

"Spacibo. Napoleon, I am going to the Commissary for coffee."

"So am I, Tovarisch; wait for me. I will see you later," he mouthed to Denise who blew a kiss in return. He caught up to his partner in three large strides and fell in step with him. "I hope we didn't have lunch plans. Did we?"

"No, we did not." As they entered the Commissary, Illya looked sideways at Napoleon. "You have nicknames for everyone, do you not?"

Napoleon thought about that as they poured coffee into tall cups, covered them and headed to the cashier. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

"You called Denise 'Little Flower' and you have many nicknames for me."

Napoleon frowned as the door slid open to their office and he went to his desk. "No, I don't!

Illya's eyes widened in surprise. "Surely you are joking! You have given me so many nicknames, it is embarrassing!"

Napoleon leaned on his desk and put his chin in his hand. "Illya, what are you talking about? What do I call you besides Partner Mine and Tovarisch; which by the way, you sometimes call me."

Illya reached into his bottom drawer to extract the notes from his latest experiment. Pulling out his glasses, he reached for a tissue to clean them. "Well," he began as he blew on and wiped the lenses, "it depends. I am 'Partner Mine' and 'Tovarisch' when you are feeling collegial. When you are warning foes that I am a force to be reckoned with, you call me 'The Russian." When you are feeling protective or possessive, you call me 'My Russian.' When you are asking me to do something for you, like type the mission reports or loan you money, I am 'Illyusha' or 'Illyushenka.'"

Napoleon didn't know what to say. He lifted his head off his hand and grabbed his coffee to drink. He swallowed and then said, "Huh, when you put it like that…I never realized…Would, would you prefer that I didn't do it anymore?"

Illya sighed, "Blockhead, I never said I do not like your little 'terms of endearment;' I said they can be embarrassing. It has been a very, very long time since I have been called something other than my name that was not derogatory or humiliating. When you call me those names, I know it is because you… care about me. However, you do not seem to care who you say these things to or around. Two days ago, you asked some of the lab techs if they had seen 'My Russian.' I had to threaten them with mandatory overtime for them to stop teasing me."

Napoleon grinned, "I'm sorry about that; from now on, I'll keep the nicknames I have for you just between us. I promise, OK…Illyusha?"

In reply, he got one of Illya's rare, true smiles. "OK." He watched as Illya placed those ugly black glasses on his nose and began to look over his notes.

"Ah, Illya? May I ask: Do you have any nicknames for me?"

Illya broke into a wider smile than before. "You just heard it," he laughed. "Blockhead."

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