Napoleon had sworn he was going to name their newly completed mission "The Good News, Bad News Affair." From the moment he and Illya had walked into the Old Man's office, that's all it had been.
"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin," he remembered Mr. Waverly saying, "Intelligence has informed me that THRUSH Central is planning to meet on a private island located between St. Thomas and St. Croix in the US Virgin Islands in five days to discuss their plans for the next fiscal year. You are to leave immediately for the Caribbean."
Napoleon had perked up considerably upon hearing those words. It was February in New York. There had been several snowstorms, the temperature was brutally cold, the wind chill worse and more snow was predicted within the week. It was very good news that their latest assignment would take them to warmer climes.
Illya had remarked, "We should be able to bypass whatever security is on the island so that I can plant explosives in whatever buildings are there with the timers set to detonate when they are all together. That would deal THRUSH a blow from which they might not recover." Napoleon remembered thinking how good it was that the bloodthirsty Russian was his partner and not his enemy.
"Unfortunately, Mr. Kuryakin," the Old Man had replied, "this meeting is informational. As you know, each THRUSH region is semi – autonomous; the heads of each region are merely letting their counterparts and the Central Committee know what they are doing. We need the information so that we can counter whatever plans they have set into motion."
"So, ah, we're to place listening devices?" the CEA had asked.
"Precisely, Mr. Solo. Pick up your travel documents from Miss Rogers. Your flight leaves in three hours." And with a wave of his hand, Mr. Waverly had dismissed his men.
When they got back to their office and were preparing to leave, Napoleon had flashed a smile at his partner and said, "This is going to be a piece of cake! Let's head over to St. John when this is over and go camping."
He remembered Illya rolling his eyes and sighing, "That would have been nice, but now I am sure you have jinxed it."
Napoleon poured the champagne that had been chilling in the ice bucket next to the simply, but elegantly set table he and his companion were sharing. After settling the bottle back into the ice, he handed a flute to Illya, held his up until the blond clinked his against it and then sipped it appreciatively. He winked at his partner and said, "See? I told you I didn't jinx us!"
Illya snorted so hard, champagne bubbles spurted out of his nose. "Are you delirious, Napoleon? I was seasick the entire time it took us to sail from St. Croix!"
"Well," Napoleon conceded, "that was bad, but the good news was you made an amazing recovery as soon as we reached land."
"We were captured when we were only halfway finished installing the bugs!"
"True, that was also bad, but the good news was the security detail leader was a woman who, shall we say, was more than a little taken with you?"
"Do not remind me. Her sexual appetites were varied. And insatiable. That was bad, very bad."
"But the good news was that you and she were so…vocal, that the guards were distracted so much that I was able to get the drop on one, grab his weapon and disarm the rest. The hardest part for me was forcing them to take the modified Capsule B pill to erase their memories of us being there. You were a very smart Russian to decide to bring a supply of those."
"Yes, I was able to dissolve one into the leader's water glass. I woke her and made sure she drank. She was quite…dehydrated after our time together. It was easy then to finish planting the devices. By the time they are able to remember that we were there, the meeting will be long over and UNCLE will have what it needs."
"Which is extremely good news. And now, Partner Mine, here we sit on a beautiful beach on St. John, about to enjoy a delicious meal on our uncle's dime, watching a spectacular sunset while drinking champagne with a long weekend off ahead of us. What could be better than that?"
Illya's eyebrows raised to hide behind his bangs. "Have you forgotten that today is Valentine's Day, Napoleon? I would think the bad news for you is that you are having dinner with me instead of some appealing island girl."
As Illya spoke, Napoleon was thinking how he had never really noticed how the sun could highlight the Russian's hair; it was positively glowing in the remaining sunlight. He poured them more champagne and mused, "I know what day it is and I think it is a very, very good thing that I'm having dinner with you."
The waiter arrived at that moment with their steaks and Caribbean lobster tails plus another bottle of champagne, giving Illya a chance to hide his shock as he cut a piece of meat and popped it into his mouth. He looked up to see the CEA gazing at him and grinning. "What?"
"I've amended the name I had for this affair."
"Oh?"
"Yes, I think I'm going to call it 'The Good News, Bad News, Getting Better all the Time Affair'," he opined as he continued to observe how the light played across his partner's features.
Illya continued to eat his meal feeling his partner's eyes upon him. He felt like something had shifted in their partnership; something for the better, maybe even something wonderful. He met Napoleon's eyes, smiled at what he was seeing in them and said the nicest thing he could think to say. "That is good news. Blockhead," he called him with as much affection as he could muster. He turned his face to watch the sun dip below the horizon. The food, the drink, the company and the Beatles reference were all combining to tell him there were possibilities afoot he had never thought possible. Take a chance, Kuryakin! This day, of all days, take a chance. He raised his glass. "To getting better."
Napoleon raised his glass in turn. "Hear, hear."