A.N. Hello! So this is just to let you know that this is probably going to be the last 'story' chapter any updates from here on in will most likely be focusing on the years between 1960 and the start of the film (1963), essentially, little scenarios that Eva and Napoleon get into.

So, in addition to saying thank you for sticking with me for 6 whole chapters (!) this is where I throw it open to you and let you know that if you have any prompts or mission ideas then just message me or drop me a review and I'll have a go.

Much love,
MissPiggy97 xxx

London; 1960

"You're such a baby!" Eva laughed as she danced in and out of the puddles lining the streets, her black knee high boots and tan trench coat keeping her body dry while her hair was beginning to drip. "You've been here a year and still a little drop of rain stalls you."

"It's been torrentially raining for the last month Eves." He reminded her, reaching out to grab her elbow and steady her as she almost slipped whilst his other hand kept a firm grip on his umbrella. "Forgive me for longing for a little sunshine." He grumbled as she pushed away his hold and continued to dance in the falling droplets.

"Baby." She reiterated. "And oh so American." She laughed at his scowl before kicking into a puddle and spraying the hem of his own trench coat with the water.

"Eves." He warned as she giggled. "Eves." She coyly took a step towards another puddle and raised her foot to kick again. "I'm warning yo-" She clapped a hand over her mouth to stem a laugh as she took in the sight of him dripping head to toe from the spray a bus had just soaked him with as it drove past.

"Oh my God." She breathed, still desperately trying to not break into a laugh as he wiped the water from his face and glanced down at his sodden coat. "I've never seen that happen before."

"Let's just…" He ran a hand through his hair. "…Pick up those damn photographs."

"Yes." She let out a small giggle. "Of course." She forced a straight face before skipping back over to him, looping her arm under his and nestling under the umbrella. "If it's any consolation…" She began as they continued to make their way down the street. "…I still think you look very handsome."

"I'd forgotten about Morocco!" Eva exclaimed as she leafed through the photographs they'd collected. "God…" She sighed, her finger gently tracing the image of the both of them grinning amongst the burning sands. "…it was so hot."

"Yes, you were." The mattress dipped beside her as Napoleon joined her on the bed; a towel slung around his neck and his still dripping slightly. "That bikini." He groaned as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Napoleon." Her fingers tightened around the photographs as the thick jumper she'd curled into was slipped from her shoulder. "Napol-" Her breath caught as his lips attached to her neck and pressed gentle kisses into the creamy skin there.

"Eves…" He whispered against her skin.

"Hmm?"

"Say it again." Her eyes fluttered closed at his words and she swallowed softly. "Eves." He pressed.

"I love you."

And she did. Truly. Its why she'd told him so when three months ago; he'd blindfolded her, driven her through London, led her up a flight of stairs and then with a gentle 'ta-dah' had pushed open the door to the apartment overlooking one of London's many parks. Their apartment.

They'd been here ever since; together.

The only thing she hadn't told him was how the following day she'd been summoned to Waverly's office and read the riot act for getting involved with 'that bloody American'. But he didn't need to know that. He didn't need to know how her job was in jeopardy every day she spent with him, no matter how many successful missions they now had under their belts as a team; MI5 was still reluctant.

"I love you Napoleon." She repeated, her fingers threading through his jet black hair as he pushed all thoughts of her work away and focused on the man currently pushing their new photographs aside as he crawled closer to her.

"Good." He breathed against her skin. "Then I know I'm not being completely ridiculous when I ask you this…"

"Napoleon?" She frowned at his words, pulling him away from the crook of her neck and making him face her.

"Eves…" He began before shaking his head. "Eva…" He corrected. "…Will you marry me?"

He'd slipped from the mattress and made his way to her side of the bed before kneeling and pulling a small box from under the bed frame.

It had been perfect, she recalled as she stood alone in the drafty room, shifting from one foot to the other as she waited nervously. He had been on one knee and she had been speechless.

She felt her thumb run over the white gold band as if on instinct; it hadn't moved from her finger since that fateful afternoon.

"Are you ready?" The voice snapped her from her reverie and she turned to the person sticking their head through the double doors leading to her future.

"As I'll ever be." The smile that followed was quite possibly the most natural smile she'd ever had. She was ready. A short inhale of breath and quick smoothing out of her dress and she was moving to stand right in front of the doors.

Head raised, she grinned as they opened and the music started. Eyes focused on the American at the end of the aisle she shook off everything to do with Alexander Waverly and his warning of what would follow if she went through with this, and took her first step forward to new life.

She forced herself to not look at the almost empty pews on either side of her and focused on Napoleon as he stood beside the priest they'd commandeered a few days ago when they'd received the details of their next mission.

Deeming a trip to Paris as the perfect honeymoon (ignoring of course the fact that they'd be tracking down a...well that was confidential actually) they'd jumped head-first into 'wedding planning' which consisted of walking into the first church they found and practically begging for a slot on their preferred day before Eva rushed off to buy a wedding dress while Napoleon rounded up potential witnesses.

She hadn't expected the purchasing of her wedding dress to be such a…memorable occasion. Eva had resigned herself to a high street bought suit but a slip-up in the office had found her returning her suit before being dragged into the huge bridal stores she had dreamed of as a child by the entire secretarial pool of MI5.

It was them she had to thank for the tea length, of-the-shoulder dress complete with laced bodice and poufy under-skirt. The jewelled feather pinned to the side of her head holding her golden hair in a perfect chignon (once again courtesy of the secretaries now beaming at her from the front pews) had been found in the bottom of their wardrobe in the solitary box they were yet to unwrap, a perfect throwback to the wondrous jazz era and a family heirloom to boost; Eva knew that even though her parents weren't there in person, they were with her in some small way.

A quick spin on the balls of her feet as she reached the end of the aisle had her finally facing him and my god, he took her breath away. Napoleon Solo was handsome even when dripping in dirty puddle water but here, in a jet black suit with a crisp white rose tucked into his button-hole, he was heartbreakingly beautiful.

A shared smile, clasped hands and the declaration of two simple words swiftly followed and before she knew it, Mrs Eva Solo was laughing on the step of the church as a cloud of rice rained down on them and the flash of a camera preserved the moment forever.