Chapter Six - Domestic Affairs

Illya looked out over the lights of Paris. It was a magnificent city. All the more so when viewed from a luxury suite on the highest floor of the Hotel Meurice. The unusual luxury was Mr. Waverly's reward to his top agents for resolving the Berlin matter without triggering either diplomatic outrage or World War III.

A pleasant gesture, Illya thought, if far from the greatest reward of their cunning. But then, one did not join the intelligence services - much less UNCLE - for the material benefits. There were far easier ways to gain a comfortable life. And far more comfortable lives to be gained.

Still, he could not deny the personal satisfactions that came from a job well done. Especially this one.

"Champagne, Napoleon?" Illya raised one questioning eyebrow as his partner carefully folded a napkin over the top of the flower painted bottle. Of course, he conceded, the physical pleasures did have their place.

"Only appropriate, wouldn't you say?" With a quick twist Napoleon silently popped the cork and poured the pale wine into two elegant crystal flutes.

"Appropriate for a lovesick fool." The blond man's tone was dry - almost harsh - but he did not refuse the offered glass.

"Lovesick, I would agree." Napoleon joined his partner on the balcony. "But never foolish." He bent down, tasting the fine wine on his partner's lips.

"Napoleon!" Illya pulled away, but just slightly. "If anyone were to see you..."

"What could they do? I am operating under orders to seduce you - and you are operating under orders to seduce me. One can hardly be criticized for obeying orders… enthusiastically."

"Tell that to the accounting department. They may view your bar bill with less enthusiasm." Still, Illya had visibly relaxed.

"Tonight I feel like celebrating." Napoleon raised his own glass to the light, mentally comparing the pale gold of the wine with the equal richness of his partner's hair. Illya and champagne. They were in many ways similar. Dry, nuanced, sophisticated. Perhaps an acquired taste. But if so a taste he had most certainly acquired. "You were brilliant." Napoleon took a sip of his wine. "I was brilliant." Another sip. Held and savored. "And now we are both eternally in the clear."

Giving Illya a wicked grin, he continued. "Waverly's orders are in my file. General Strasenhaur's concurrence is in yours. If anyone should... question... us in the future?"

Illya's smile was equally wicked. "We were only following orders?"

"Exactly."

Illya raised his glass. "To orders."

"To orders." The American agent answered the toast, tapped his champagne glass lightly against the other, enjoying the musical chime of flawless crystal. "As long as they require us to do exactly what we want to do."

They drank.

Napoleon leaned forward, lips soft, but Illya held him back. "Still, it would not do to be..."

"Indiscrete?" Napoleon stepped back into the room, waiting for Illya to follow. "I know." He shut the balcony doors. "I wouldn't want to give either side more leverage over either of us. Still?"

This time it was Illya who stepped into the kiss. "We were brilliant, were we not?"

"As always."

There was a very long pause before either man had their lips free to speak.

When they could again speak, it was Napoleon who offered the next toast. "To a brilliant operation."

Illya laughed. "By two brilliant men."

"Brilliantly in love."

They drank.

They kissed.

A few minutes later the distant lights of Paris were the only lights in the room.

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HARDLY FINISHED - BUT THE STORY IS OVER.

©KKR 2009