Chapter Three – Of Fights and Friendships

Alright, so he definitely saw her coming.

As Napoleon and Gaby walked into the second semester of their shared class, wondering if Professor Benson was going to push Structuralism as hard as he did last semester, Gaby walked three steps ahead before she realized Napoleon had stopped.

"What's wrong?"

"That's him." Napoleon spoke softly.

"What? Who?" She followed his eyeline up to the far back seat to see a distant blonde figure trying to fit himself into the tiny desk.

"Wait, him him?" Gaby asked, then whirled back around as Napoleon nodded. Narrowing her eyes, she started marching up the center stairs to the last row, despite Napoleon hissing her name behind her.

She stalked past all the empty seats to plop herself down right next to the archenemy of the Wartburg himself. As he glowered at her in confusion, Gaby glared back at him. He blinked in surprise, and she mocked his expression, then turned to stare fixedly at the professor.

He kept shooting her looks through the class, most of which she met with scowls of her own. The instant class ended, the blond grabbed his bag and made for the door. But Gaby wasn't about to let him off that easy.

"Hey!" She yelled after him as she stuffed her notes into her bag. "Hey!" She chased after him (damn he was fast) and yelled "Hey!" as loud as she could.

He finally stopped out in the courtyard and gave her a withering stare. "What are you wanting, little mouse?" His Russian accent was thick and contemptuous.

She nearly reconsidered her plan once she had caught up to him and calculated that there was an entire foot of height difference between them, but the image of her wounded Wartburg demanded recompense.

"Where is my boot?"

He frowned at her. "I do not have your shoe."

"Not my shoe. The boot. The back of my car! The one you ripped off last night!"

"Last night?" He repeated, then raised his head and looked at her sideways. "Wait. That was..." Something behind her caught his eye, and his face turned menacing.

"You!" He growled, and barreled past her.

"Hey!" Gaby's shout went unheeded by the blond giant. She heard Napoleon mutter, "Oh, dear," in a tone of tired acceptance before being shoved into a stone pillar.

She was seconds away from throwing herself into the fray when campus security descended on them, although it took four men to pry the two apart between roars of "Where is my father's watch?" and "I don't know!"

As all three slouched in their seats in Waverly's office, Gaby muttered about how unfair it was that security somehow thought she was involved in all of this. Granted, she was about to swing her messenger bag full of books into the blond's back, but they didn't know that.

"Right, well, this is not how I planned to spend my Thursday afternoon." Waverly remarked as he sat down behind the desk.

"And I certainly did not expect to see you three as the cause of general uproar. I was led to believe that you were a few moments away from bringing down the whole building – which would be quite the feat, since it's been standing since 1836. Nearly as long as Professor Benson!" He joked, but only Gaby snorted in amusement.

Sighing at the lack of response, Waverly leaned forward and looked at the students in front of him. "Anyone want to tell me what this was regarding?"

A deafening silence met his question, and after a few minutes, he shook his head. "Well, needless to say, I am disappointed in all of you. Gaby, Solo, and Kuryakin." He looked at each of them as he said their names, and Gaby tried not to flush in shame. "However, as the study abroad director, I have been given full discretion on how to mete out punishment. Since you brought the campus so close to collapsing, I find it rather fitting that you all should spend some quality time mending it. Understood?"

They all mumbled assent, then prepared to leave.

"On a separate, but, I believe, not unrelated note," Waverly continued as they sunk back into their seats, "there were some noise complaints from Kuryakin's room the other night, and when the residential staff went in to clean today, they found it, for lack of a better word, annihilated. Any idea on how that happened?"

Both Kuryakin and Solo tried to look mystified (Solo only marginally succeeding) and Gaby rubbed her temples in exasperation.

"Since the damage is both severe and shockingly structural, the room is clearly no longer inhabitable."

Gaby's stomach began to turn.

"But, fortunately, I happened to recall that Solo had plenty of space at his residence." Napoleon instantly looked slightly concerned. "And after speaking with your father," Gaby watched Solo's jaw tense imperceptibly, "all the arrangements have been made." Waverly beamed as if he was announcing a happy couple, rather than ruining Gaby's university experience.

"Excuse me? What arrangements?" Kuryakin asked, brows furrowed.

"Oh, sorry, Kuryakin, I should have clarified. You'll be staying with Solo, along with his current tenant, Gaby."

The Russian's eyes widened. "No, no. I do not think-"

"Fortunately, you don't have to. The decision has already been made." Waverly's voice suddenly had an edge of steel to it. "Are we clear?"

There was a moment of tension as Kuryakin met the older man's gaze, then looked away with a mumbled, "Fine."

"Good! Well, now that everything's settled, Kuryakin, go ahead and gather your things, and I'm sure Solo and Gaby will make you feel quite welcome." His wide smile was met by glares and quiet groans as they were dismissed.

As Napoleon and Gaby walked back, she whispered, "Structural?"

"A wall may have been involved."

"He threw you into a wall?"

"Not into. Through."

Gaby winced. Their new roommate was starting to sound hazardous not just to cars, but also to their entire house. This punishment was getting worse all the time.

...

A few hours later, Gaby heard a knock as she passed by the entrance. She padded over, opened the door, saw who it was, then immediately pushed it shut and kept walking.

There was a pause, then a growl from outside. This time the knocking was faster and somehow angrier. Napoleon answered the door with a broad smile, "Ah! Kuryakin! Welcome to our humble abode."

The Russian gave him a sardonic look as he brought his bags inside. "My woman would not be so rude." He commented to Solo.

Gaby responded with a glare, "I am my own woman." Looking to Napoleon, she told him, "I'm off to work on the Wartburg."

Her housemate nodded as Kuryakin looked confused. "You work on the car?"

"Yes." Gaby answered through grit teeth. "Got a problem with that?"

He frowned. "You just don't seem... mechanically minded."

Gaby gave him the mother of all death stares, considered throwing something at him, then clenched her jaw and stormed off to the garage.

"Smoothly done, Kuryakin. You've just insulted her degree and her hobby." Napoleon shook his head in mock disappointment, then walked away.

Gaby's temper cooled somewhat while working on her beloved car (although she got angry all over again whenever she looked at the missing trunk and remembered how impossible it was going to be to replace it), so she attempted to be civil at dinner.

While she automatically got out plates, Kuryakin wandered in and glanced between her and Napoleon.

"You cook?" He asked in a confused tone.

"Yes, I do. You'll find we run quite a progressive household here." Napoleon replied with a smile as Gaby pointedly ignored the Russian's presence.

As they sat down, Napoleon, ever the gracious host, attempted to start a conversation. "Now, it occurs to me that we have not been properly introduced. I am Napoleon Solo, currently studying Art History. This is Miss Gabriela Teller, majoring in Mechanical Engineering. And what should we call you?"

"I can think of a few things," Gaby muttered, earning a scowl from Kuryakin and a slight smirk from Solo.

"My name is Illya Kuryakin. I am architecture student. You can call me-"

"Captain America?" Napoleon interrupted, gesturing to his height and hair.

Illya frowned. "I am not American."

"Captain Russia, then." Gaby corrected.

"Comrade Communism?" Napoleon added.

"The Communist Threat." She suggested, smiling at Kuryakin's deepening glower.

Napoleon sat up in excitement. "I've got it. The Red Peril!"

Gaby laughed and clapped. "Yes! The Red Peril!"

"I do not like-" Illya tried to speak.

"Then it's settled." Gaby said, clearing her plate. "Good night Napoleon. Red Peril." She reveled in the twitch that crossed the taller man's face, and walked victoriously back to her room.

If tormenting Illya was going to be this much fun, maybe living with him wasn't going to be so bad.

She might even enjoy it.