Chapter Text
It had been a long, miserable mission in Johannesburg – Napoleon, Illya, and Gaby were all exhausted. Somehow Illya had managed to doze off while standing to pour himself a drink, and from the slow but steady droop of Napoleon’s head Gaby could tell he was about to fall asleep too.
“You two look awful,” Gaby teased, although she was the first to admit she had looked and felt better herself. “At least now we can get some rest.”
“Unfortunately, Ms. Teller, you’re mistaken,” the familiar lilt of Waverly’s voice entered the room before he did. “I have another assignment for you.”
Napoleon let out a long, dramatic sigh. “Can we at least have a week?”
“Not unless you want the criminal organization the Vinciguerras worked for to get their hands on a very large number of high-tech American weapons,” Waverly replied. Illya had woken during Napoleon’s question and at Waverly’s statement groaned, “It’s always the Americans.”
“Illya was stabbed on this assignment. Do you really think it’s fair to give him another one before he’s even seen a doctor?” Gaby demanded of Waverly.
“Funny you should say that, Ms. Teller. Kuryakin won’t be joining you on this assignment,” Waverly replied simply.
“What?” Illya demanded.
“Solo, Ms. Teller, you will be going undercover at an American university. Solo, you will be a new professor of art history, and Ms. Teller, you will be a student. Your target is one Andrew McAllister, the son of Timothy McAllister, an American arms manufacturer. We have reason to believe that the elder McAllister is planning to sell weapons to an international criminal organization, and getting close to his son will be the easiest way to get to him,” Waverly explained, ignoring Illya. “Solo, the laboratory at this college has been full of suspicious activity, and we believe they may be helping McAllister create some kind of super-weapon – as a teacher, you have access to the lab, and so you will investigate that. Ms. Teller, as a student you will have much more access to Andrew McAllister, and so you will involve yourself with him and get as much information as you can from him.”
“Hold one moment,” Illya scowled. “Gaby is…a honeypot?”
“Essentially…yes,” Waverly admitted.
“No,” Illya snapped right back. “No, I will not allow that.”
“You’re not my mother, Illya,” Gaby cut in. She turned to Waverly. “What’s this ‘honeypot’ thing that’s got Illya so angry?”
Waverly pointedly didn’t answer, so Napoleon sighed and explained, “An agent – usually a woman – who gets information from a target by – ”
He paused, trying to find a polite way to explain it, when Illya said darkly, “By seducing them.”
Gaby recoiled in surprise. “I’m going to what?”
“You don’t actually have to seduce your target, Ms. Teller,” Waverly brushed her off. “He’s a young playboy. Make him think you’re interested and it should take care of itself from there.”
“I am going on mission as well,” Illya insisted.
“Kuryakin, not only are you injured, but you don’t seem like the college type to me,” Waverly raised an eyebrow skeptically.
“I could be professor,” Illya suggested.
“You look too young to be a professor and too old to be a student,” Napoleon shook his head. “Sorry, Peril. Besides, Russian isn’t the most popular subject in schools these days.”
Illya glowered at Napoleon for taking Waverly’s side, hands shaking a little. When it became apparent the stare-down was going nowhere and neither man was going to back down, Gaby scowled and huffed, “He could be an exchange student.”
“Gaby, I just said he looks too old to be a student,” Napoleon frowned.
“A regular student, yes. But I am a student from East Germany who escaped the Iron Curtain. Is it so hard to imagine I had a Russian cousin who couldn’t escape until he was older, but still wants a good education?” Gaby countered.
The look Illya gave her would have killed a lesser woman. “Your cousin?”
“Do you want to be on this assignment or not?” Gaby snapped back. Illya backed down, although he still looked annoyed.
Waverly sighed. “If you’re so determined, Kuryakin, you can join them. But you will be, as Ms. Teller said, under cover as her cousin, recently defected from Russia. And you won’t let your feelings for Ms. Teller interfere with this assignment.”
“What feelings?” Illya tried to protest, but he received three identically unamused expressions in return. He grumbled reluctantly, “Yes, of course. Only there for support.”
“Well, now that that’s all cleared up, you should pack. Your flight leaves in three hours,” Waverly said, nodding in farewell and leaving the room. “I’ll have more detailed cover identities and your passports in the car.”
As they packed, both Gaby and Illya couldn’t help but notice the unrestrained smile on Napoleon’s face. Illya commented, “You look happy, Cowboy.”
“I get to go home sweet home,” Napoleon replied. He gave them both a big grin. “And I can’t wait to read all the homework I’m going to assign you two.”