The head of the FBI, the CIA, the NSA and the top Ambassador to Switzerland, all sat in Alexander Waverly's office. All were puffing away on cigars looking different directions, and all were showing the signs of being greatly irritated. Mr. Waverly himself was greatly annoyed as he stood at the end of his circular table fighting with his projector as he fought the heat. A technician had long ago been sent for to fix the ornery machine that wouldn't work for the head of UNCLE, but for some reason the person had yet to make it up to Waverly's office, and Alexander had long since lost his patience.

The room was stifling hot with the air thick and stuffy. No one moved in the chairs that they were stuck to, and each held back the smart remarks they wanted to spout off. The meeting in Waverly's office was supposed to have ended three hours ago and the Swiss man was thinking of walking out.

Peace was what Waverly had been trying to accomplish at this meeting and he felt as though all he had really done was heighten the sore feelings between the three agencies and the Ambassador. Angrily he started to fight with the projector again as four people gave him long sideways glances as though they blamed him for breaking it the first time. Waverly ignored them.

Suddenly the machine hummed to life and Waverly looked up happily as the tension seemed to easy slightly. It was short lived however, for the picture suddenly went blank and Waverly glared at the monitor.

"Well, Perhaps I should―" The Ambassador started to rise.

"We all understand your position, Mr. Ambassador," Waverly interrupted coldly. "But I think you might find it in your best interest to stay."

He sat back ready to make his smart remark, but the projector hummed again and suddenly colors, pictures and places flashed across the screen at an amazingly fast speed before stopping with one particular setting.

It was a video camera in the office of UNCLE down stairs in the cafeteria at a table. There one man sat his hands sitting on the table laced in front of him, and he was humming very softly, as he continued to glance over his shoulder.

Waverly glared and glanced back down, trying now to shut the dumb thing off.

"Who is he?" the Swiss man asked.

"Oh. That is Mr. Kuryakin section two," Waverly mumbled, and looked back at his work.

Idle eyes turned to the screen and they watched Mr. Kuryakin as he with boredom went to playing with the salt and pepper shakers. Suddenly another man appeared, and he placed two ice cream sundaes on the table as well as two napkins. Seating himself, he apologetically said,

"Sorry, you wouldn't believe the person they got to―" Napoleon Solo smiled at his partner.

"Her name is Nataly and if you were thinking about asking her out, you might find it in your better interest not to. Now, where are the spoons?" Illya interrupted Napoleon who glanced around the table and stood with a frown.

"I'll get them." He stood walking away and Illya shook his head staring at his ice cream his mouth watering.

"I hope that is not a show of UNCLE's finniest," the Swiss man stated sarcastically and four heads turned and glared.

All wanted the cool looking treats sitting on the table and they all stared with frustrated jealousy at the ice cream. Even Waverly couldn't stop his eyes from resting on the two glasses wishing that he had something to quell the terrible heat.

Ten minutes passed and still there was no technician for Waverly, and Napoleon had yet to return with the spoons. Illya was now drumming his fingers on the table glancing at his watch then over his shoulder.

The head of the CIA suddenly found himself doing the same as Illya as he was so caught up in the moment. The head of the FBI nudged him under the table and glared at the hand which instantly stopped moving.

Illya had gone back to playing with the salt and pepper shakers, grumbling about Napoleon, when suddenly a sly smile crossed his face. With a glance over his shoulder, he took up the salt and poured some over the ice cream.

All eyes were fixed on the screen now, in shocked horror as Illya ruined a perfectly good bowl of ice cream. Their thoughts all suddenly turned to Napoleon and everyone froze forgetting their irritation.

Expertly hiding what he had done Illya sat back waiting for Napoleon to return, a sudden glow in his eyes. Moments later Mr. Solo appeared and sat in his chair, tossing Illya a spoon, which was deftly caught without a glance, and gazed off into space.

"Man! She really is something!" Napoleon smiled off at someone and Illya rolled his eyes while bending over his ice cream.

Napoleon put his spoon in the bowl and lifted a great spoonful to his mouth. Everyone cringed and then relaxed when it stopped halfway.

"Say, how did you know her name? And how did you know she was dating Curtis?" Napoleon looked sharply at Illya.

"Because I talked to Curtis yesterday," Illya mumbled, lifting his head.

Napoleon nodded and the spoon went into his mouth. He choked, sputtered, gripped a napkin and glared at Illya who was smiling softly with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Napoleon choked jumping up and rushing away for some water.

"I highly doubt that," Illya mumbled with a smile and continued on with his sundae.

The Swiss Ambassador chuckled, and a smile came to all other faces in the room. Their anger was completely forgotten, and they all turned to face each other once more. Waverly shook his head. In such a short time, his top two agents had created the atmosphere Waverly had wanted, and they weren't even trying.

The machine hummed again and up on the screen popped the very thing Waverly had been waiting for, for so long.

"Ah," he said happily. "Gentlemen, shall we begin?"

The room sobered and all eyes turned to the screen. The meeting had finally commenced.


Sorry about the mistakes. I went back and corrected them after it was pointed out to me.