Napoleon and Illya were dressed in tuxedos waiting for a bus. They were both attending one of Mr Waverly's dinners. They would have hired a taxi, but Mr Waverly had informed them that they couldn't put the cost of taxi fares onto their expense accounts. Neither agent wanted to stay sober in order to drive the other home. Mr Waverly's dinners were not something to be endured sober, they would often prove to be very tedious affairs.

Shortly after coming to New York headquarters, Illya had wondered why Napoleon always seemed to have a date lined up every time Mr Waverly suggested lunch. He was at first under the impression that Napoleon dated every night. Once he got to know him a little better he became familiar with his dating patterns. He discovered to his surprise that Napoleon dated most frequently after a case and normally made sure that he had a date arranged for the night that they give their reports to Mr Waverly. Illya himself was often busy working in the lab, so it was only in the last couple of years that Illya became aware of the motive behind his friends actions.

For once Illya had no lab work to complete, no dates and was at a loss for something to do. Napoleon had a date as usual, April and Mark were both working on a case and then Mr Waverly made his usual dinner invitation. It seemed ideal. He needed food, and his boss was offering to buy him it.

"Mind torture" that was the only way to describe it. He would have talked but he didn't know what he was expected to say.

He yawned with the sheer boredom of it all. His brain was too numb to realise it was only polite to cover his mouth with his hand.

"I trust we're not keeping you awake Mr Kuryakin." Mr Waverly's voice broke in through his boredom.

"Er no Sir." He sat up a little straighter and tried to focus on what Mr Waverly and the other table guest, a Mr Cowley, were saying. He looked down at his glass, wondering if someone had drugged his champagne.

That night he had promised himself that he would make sure he was busy the next time Mr Waverly suggested dinner. He resolved to date as much as Napoleon, if he had to. In fact as he got steadily drunker he decided that he would even go so far as to date Napoleon, but er that's another story.

And here he was again. This time accompanied by Napoleon who, being that they were both in the North of England, where neither agent had been before and that their last affair had involved two male civilians, had been unable to find a date. Illya was jarred back from his thoughts to the coldness of the bus shelter by the bleeping of Napoleon's communicator.

"Solo here."

"Mr Solo, what's keeping you and Mr Kuryakin?" The annoyed voice wafted from the communicator.

"The bus service. Our bus hasn't arrived yet sir."

"We'd be perfectly happy to investigate the possibilities that the bus services are run by Thrush, sir." Illya added.

"I don't think that will be necessary, Mr Kuryakin. Thrush is only interested in high profit agencies. Just get here as soon as you can."

"Yes sir." They both replied in unison.

As they waited for their elusive bus, Illya's thoughts fell once more onto how he could get out of Mr Wavely's dinner.

"Maybe you could tell him I resigned."

"Illya you're going." Napoleon stated firmly, "If I have to attend this thing so do you."

"You wouldn't be so calm if you'd went to the dinner I attended last year."

"Bad was it?"

"I've endured Thrush torture that was less painful." Illya smiled suddenly, an idea sparking in his brain, Napoleon looked at him warily; with the realisation he probably wasn't going to like whatever scheme his companion had come up with. "We could always say you shot yourself in the foot," he said plucking his own weapon from his holster and aiming at a target.

Napoleon pushed Illya's gun away with a hand, so it pointed safely at the ground. "What and have people think I'm a bumbling fool?"

"Yes I suppose it would be hard on several secretaries and young agents to learn the truth." He said as he holstered his gun.

"I'll ignore that barb since it's obvious the prospect of Mr Waverly's dinner is getting to you." Yet another bus pulled up at the bus station. They both looked at the number on it. It wasn't theirs. "I think I'll get on the next bus that pulls up and direct the driver to take us to the restaurant."

"What's your hurry? I'd quite happily stand here all night." Illya insisted.

"Some of us are cold."

"I'd rather be cold than tortured by Mr Waverly."

"Look it won't be so bad when there's two of us." Napoleon reasoned.

"I've got it," said Illya, whose thoughts were still on escape. "How about we tell him that we fell in love and decided to elope?"

"It wouldn't work Illya."

"Why not?"

The amusement spread across Napoleon's face as he answered, "Because half of the staff at Uncle probably thinks that happened years ago."

The End

and I'll pass your comments along to Kiki.