A/N: Gaby Teller, Alexander Waverly, Illya Kuryakin and Napoleon Solo don't belong to me. The plot, however, is mine.
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Sequel to "What's Eating Illya Kuryakin?" Everything is not as it seems...
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A little idea that I had shortly after I posted What's Eating Illya Kuryakin? on A03 March 22, 2017. I had thought to tack it on to the end of said fic but it was complete and I had no desire to add to what was already, in my mind, finished so I let the idea percolate for awhile until I sat down and wrote it today. I just finished it and am in the process of editing. I'm posting it here first in order to work out the bugs before I post it to A03. It also seems to have taken on a life of its own since it turned out to be six pages long!
My second The Man From U.N.C.L.E. fic and sequel to What's Eating Illya Kuryakin? Waverly in this one is more like a hodge-podge mix of Hugh Grant (from the movie) and Leo G. Carroll (from the tv series which my husband and I have been watching for awhile. We're currently in season 2) though leaning more toward Mr. Carroll than Mr. Grant in terms of speaking and humour. Gaby here enjoys her work, and enjoys getting into the role... much to the dismay of Waverly who has had to patch up some serious loose ends in the past when the marks fell in love with her; his dismay is more like a father toward a rebellious daughter than outright annoyance. He knows that she can handle herself in the field but still worries anyway.
She isn't a tease; she fully, 100 percent believes in what U.N.C.L.E. does and is determined to bring THRUSH to justice by using the talents she has. She's good at what she does, she's believes in U.N.C.L.E.'s mission and is good at wearing different kinds of masks which makes her quite an effective agent. And a source of worry for Waverly when he feels she's jumping the gun a little and enjoying her role a little too much. Which annoys Gaby but she doesn't make (much) of an issue of it since she knows that he trusts her though he worries about her. She is quite sneaky, too!
Waverly is Waverly; he knows all and he sees all! I like him here: a nice mix of bravado and mischief. I love the understated dryness. I also enjoyed throwing him a little curveball.
Russian endearments are by vicemir, an AMAZING artist on Tumblr! Thank you!
Anyway, hope you enjoy!
I suspect that I will be making corrections at some point; always room for improvement!
Rated T, male/male relationships, The Man From U.N.C.L.E., Napoleon Solo x Illya Kuryakin, Humor/Romance
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September 23rd, 1968
U.N.C.L.E. Headquarters
Hallway leading to Alexander Waverly's office
New York City
United States
9:50 P.M.
Gaby Teller walked quickly, nodding her head in greeting to colleagues who passed by her on their way down the hall. She was on her way to see Alexander Waverly, head of U.N.C.L.E. and she smiled to herself as she walked along.
The hallways were almost deserted so there weren't any encumbrances to delay her as she made her way toward Waverly's office with a purposeful stride, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.
They should be getting around to it about now, she thought, her lips twitching in amusement as she glanced down at her watch. I certainly left them enough time! Another thought flashed through her mind at that moment and she bit her lip, her eyes narrowing slightly. Then again, knowing those two like I do, they'll probably find dome excuse to delay the inevitable... She sighed and shook her head as she stopped in front of Waverly's office door. Leave it to those two to overthink everything... well, at least Napoleon.
She reached out and knocked softly on his door, waiting until she heard his muffled voice call out, "Come in" before reaching out, grasping the doorknob and opening it, walking quickly through before shutting the door behind her.
Waverly sat at his desk, engrossed in a pile of papers that were stacked neatly in the left hand corner, his attention fully focused on what he was reading.
"Did they finally confess?" he asked, not even looking up from his reading.
Gaby was impressed but answered lightly enough. "I believe so, Sir." She glanced down again at her watch. "I gave them enough headway so they should be done about now." She sighed again. "Unless Napoleon is overthinking the blatantly obvious. Again." She rolled her eyes and made a face. "It would be just like him, too."
"About time, I say." His voice was satisfied as he looked up, his eyes blinking owlishly. "All that shilly-shallying around, thinking I didn't notice." He snorted. "It was as plain as the nose on your face that those two had deeper feelings for each other than they let on." He waved at the big chair in front of his desk. "Do sit down, Ms. Teller."
"Oh, I don't think they thought that, Sir," she replied, a wide smile on her face as she sauntered over to the chair Waverly indicated that was situated directly in front of his desk, tossing her coat onto the stool next to it before sitting down and crossing her legs.
Waverly's eyes narrowed, his lips twitching in amusement. "Blast it. Well, I'll have to do something to shock them out of their complacency; can't have them underfoot at every turn, after all."
Gaby laughed and made no other comment, her sandalled foot making lazy circles in the air, her right arm resting lightly on the chair arm. They sat in silence for some time before Waverly finally broke it, his eyes briefly glancing down to the pile of papers before flickering back up to lock onto Gaby's face.
"Do they suspect anything, Ms. Teller?"
Gaby shook her head. "I don't think so, Sir. I made the message as innocuous as I could but with enough feeling to make sure that the recipient would march over to Napoleon's office once he'd finished reading it."
"Message?" Waverly sounded surprised. "What message? You didn't say anything about a message!"
Gaby nodded, grinning wickedly. "Yes. I left a note on Illya's desk, one that I knew would sending him barreling off to find Napoleon." She giggled as Waverly looked at her, his eyebrow raised.
"Indeed. What did you say?"
"I said, "'Come to my office this evening. I know your secret. Napoleon.'"
Waverly frowned. "That doesn't sound very direct, Ms. Teller and not wording I suspect would have any effect at all on either Mr. Solo or Mr. Kuryakin."
"But it would, Sir." Her voice was triumphant. "Think about it: both Napoleon and Illya are secretly crazy about each other; what would the first thing they would want to do?"
"Knowing them like I do," he replied dryly, "I would say to make sure to keep it hidden at all cost."
Gaby nodded. "Exactly. So, knowing that, I made sure to put a note in that made it sound like he had something to hide, which he does when you come right down to it, knowing very well that Illya would read into it the same way that Napoleon would." She grinned. "And I was right."
A nice little unexpected twist, if I do say so myself.
"Clever, Ms. Teller Very clever indeed." Waverly was impressed at his top agent's wiliness. "I'm very glad that you're on our side, Ms. Teller. I don't think I would want to face you across the aisle."
Gaby grinned wolfishly, her eyes glittering with mischief. "You wouldn't."
Waverly chuckled before they fell silent again.
"Should I buzz them and find out, Ms. Teller?" He chuckled again. "Although I suspect that your assumptions are, indeed, correct."
"That sounds like a great idea, Sir." Even though I know I'm right, she added inwardly.
Waverly leaned forward, pressing a button on the office com in front of him.
"Yes, Mr. Waverly?" The quiet voice of Agent 85, Maria Thomas, came onto the line.
"Ms. Thomas, would you be so kind as to buzz Mr. Solo? I wish to speak with him."
"Right away, Mr. Waverly." She went silent for a moment and Gaby could hear a faint, distant buzzing noise that went on for a few moments before Napoleon's distracted, and very surprised, voice came onto the line.
"Sir?"
"Mr. Solo, Waverly here. I wanted to find out how things were going." He paused a moment, smiling at the soft exclamations he could hear in the background. "Is Mr. Kuryakin there with you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. I trust that all issues between the two of you have been settled?" He let a note of severity creep into his voice and it was all Gaby could do to not burst out laughing, balling her hand into a fist and shoving into it into her mouth, tears of laughter pricking at the corners of her eyes.
"Yes... Sir. Quite satisfactorily..." Napoleon's voice sounded faint and she could hear Illya's tender voice intoning, "Прости, любимый. Я такой идиот (I'm sorry, my love. I'm such a fool)" in the background, along with other softer, unidentifiable sounds.
Waverly half-turned his head to look at Gaby, his eyebrow raising slightly when he saw her strangling on silent laughter. He was having a hard time keeping a straight face but he forced himself not to laugh though he couldn't keep a half-smile from spreading over his face.
"Very good, Mr. Solo. I'm happy to see that you and Mr. Kuryakin have patched up your differences."
"Me, too, Sir." Napoleon was silent for a moment and both Waverly and Gaby heard the soft kissing sounds; Gaby's smug grin was a mile wide and Waverly chuckled quietly.
"Very good, very good."
"Is that all, Sir?" Napoleon's voice sounded pained and both Gaby and Waverly knew that tone. "Illya...Mr. Kuryakin...and I are a little busy right now so...?" His voice trailed off, soft murmurs filling the air.
"Yes, Mr. Solo, that is all." Waverly's tone didn't reveal anything of his private thoughts though the corners of his mouth twitched. "Once again, I am very pleased to hear that you and Mr. Kuryakin have patched things up." He paused a moment for dramatic effect. "You're two of my best agents and having you at each others' throats was... difficult. I am happy that this is no longer the case."
"So are we, Sir." Napoleon's voice was soft, sincerity clear in every word. "So are we."There was a few moments of silence once again before Illya broke it, murmuring something in the background.
It was too much. Gaby gave up all pretense and doubled over, laughing so hard that her shoulders shook, tears pouring down her face from the effort to keep it to a reasonable level and not give it away.
Hopefully Napoleon is too distracted by Illya to notice.
Waverly shook his head. "Good enough. Good night, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin and enjoy your weekend."
"Thank you, Sir. We will..." They could hear a soft "click" and knew that Napoleon had switched off his intercom. Silence prevailed for a few moments before Gaby burst out laughing once again, taking her fist out of her mouth and laughing so hard her sides ached.
"Well, then," Waverly said after the merriment had did down, "all seems to be in order." He said this with such perfect British understatement that Gaby couldn't help a loud chortle from bubbling up from her lips. "I daresay that this little plan of yours worked wonderfully."
"Of course," she remarked saucily and he gave her a look. "In more ways than one, I suspect."
"I expect you're right, Ms. Teller." He glanced over at her again, his eyes narrowing. "And let me tell you, once again, how happy I am that you are on our side."
Gaby bowed from the waist, winking roguishly at him.
"Of course, Sir," she replied sagely, waving her hand airily, "Gaby knows best, after all."
Waverly's eyebrow rose at that but made no comment as he shuffled in among the pile of papers on his desk.
"Was there something else that you wished to see me about, Sir?" She gave him a sardonic stare. "I assumed that there was more than one reason you wished to see me."
He nodded. "Perceptive as always, Ms. Teller." He chuckled as he pulled out a sheaf of cream-colored parchment, leaning over the desk while she took it from him, her eyebrow raising; Waverly sat back while she scanned the printed page carefully. "I trust that you will see that this is perfectly suited to your particular talent."
She smiled. "I agree." She sat back in her chair. "When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow morning, 8 A.M. sharp." Waverly handed her a small sheaf of paper and an envelope with two plane tickets and some bank notes. "Here are your tickets and some spending money."
"Thank you, Sir." She took the envelope, opening the flap and looking inside. "Two tickets to Monaco. Two thick rolls of cash. Impressive."
Waverly nodded. "Should that prove insufficient, contact me and we'll wire you what funds you need."
Gaby nodded. "Sounds good." She glanced over the envelope. "Who am I to be this time?"
"Something you'll enjoy, I think." He grinned. "Royalty. Marina, Duchess of Surrey. High flying, and hard playing, member of British royalty."
Gaby's eyebrows raised, the corners of her mouth twitching in amusement. "My favorite rôle."
"I know." Waverly's tone was smug. "That's why I asked you."
Gaby chuckled as she put the envelope in her purse, tucking it inside before snapping it shut.
"Then I'll bid you a pleasant good evening and contact you when I arrive in Monaco."
"Very good, Ms. Teller. I wish you a pleasant evening and good journey."
"Thank you, Sir." With a jaunty salute, she rose to her feet, grabbed her coat that lay on the chair beside her before turning and walking over to the door, reaching out to grasp the doorknob. Before the tips of her fingers had even touched it, she heard Waverly say, "You will try not to let them fall in love with you this time won't you, Ms. Teller? It would save us all kinds of trouble and bother."
Gaby half turned her head, a wolfish smile on her face. "I can't help that, Sir," she remarked primly though with a savage satisfaction in her voice that Waverly didn't miss.
Waverly sighed. "I half expect that you can," he repeated, "and we would really appreciate it if you would. It saves us all kinds of trouble when the mark is NOT romantically involved."
"That is no fault of mine." She shrugged. "I'm just playing the role and nothing more; I don't lead them on in any way." She fluttered her eyelashes at him, Waverly's mouth twisting. "Can I help it if I have a face that breaks hearts?"
"I suspect not but please do take care."
"Sir..." Gaby's annoyed voice started to say but he raised his hand, cutting off whatever angry retort she had been about to make.
"I know that I sound like an old fuddy duddy, Ms. Teller, but I do worry about my agents when they're in the field." He paused a moment before adding, "Well, except Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin who have the devil's own luck, it seems, and an innate ability to get themselves out of any jam they may have gotten themselves into even if the mission had gone awry somehow."
Gaby rolled her eyes, her mouth set in an angry slash.
"So you're worried about me because...I'm not Illya or Napoleon?" Her voice was dangerously quiet.
"That's not what I meant and you know it. All I'm saying is to take care and not get so immersed in the role that you forget where you are and what you're doing."
Gaby fumed inwardly but made no reply as she stiffly nodded. In his own way, he was worried about her and, as irritated as she felt at the moment, it was sweet that he cared about her welfare, enough to remind her to make sure she remembered what she was there to do. Which went a long way to mollifying her anger.
A little, at least.
"I'll do my best. Sir." She practically bit out the words and had to make a concerted effort to calm herself.
Waverly didn't miss the icy, biting tone as he looked askance at her. "Advice I sense that you will completely ignore."
"Well, Sir, I AM the best," she said sweetly, winking at him as she twisted the knob, opened the door and sailed out, pointedly slamming the door behind her as she exited.
Waverly sat there for some time, listening to the clicking of her heels on the tiled floor before they faded into silence, a wry grin on his face. He sat there another moment, shuffling some papers together for stapling and he reached out, his hand hovering in the air for a few moments before he realized that something was missing.
Where on earth did I put my stapler? He looked about for a few minutes and was unable to locate his missing stapler. Perplexed, Waverly searched through his desk drawers one more time just in case he'd put it in one of them but was still unable to find it.
I was certain that I had it on top of my desk! Where on earth did it get to? He reached across his desk and was about to press the intercom button to summon Ms. Thomas to help him locate his missing stapler when he noticed the small piece of white paper that lay on the desk in front of it. Frowning, Waverly picked it up, his eyes widening at what he saw printed on it: You'll find your stapler in my locker. Told you I was the best. Regards, Gaby.
Well, I'll be... He smiled as he placed Gaby's message back on his desk, impressed even though he was thoroughly annoyed with her for pulling that little stunt. Then again, he had to admit that she had proved to him, quite conclusively, that she could handle herself out in the field and his deep concern for her safety, though she was touched by it and appreciated it just the same, was unnecessary.
"Yes, Ms. Teller," he murmured once more, leaning back in his chair and tossing the paper he held in his hand on his desk, "I am very glad that you're on our side..."
A most dangerous young lady, indeed. He sat there a few moments,contemplating the closed door. I daresay, THRUSH and Your Lordship, that you've met your match. He chuckled. I wish I could be there to see the clash but I have the feeling that I'll be hearing about it once the affair is over.
He shook his head, a wide grin on his face before he leaned forward, picking up the previously discarded paper and went back to work.
.:FIN:.