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At first, it was a coincidence.
Illya and Gaby had disappeared for the night, so Napoleon took himself out for dinner at one of the fancier restaurants in town. He hadn’t really thought about where Gaby and Illya had gone, assuming that they were enjoying the downtime by themselves, Illya playing chess and Gaby probably out somewhere dancing.
What he hadn’t expected was to see them being seated at a table on the other side of the room from him. Luckily, Peril’s back was to him, so he had probably gone unnoticed.
“Well, well,” Napoleon whispered, “You’ve finally gotten it into your heads to go on a date.”
Gaby was wearing a gorgeous royal blue dress, with a simple pearl necklace, and Illya had on a dark grey, fitted suit. They made quite the pair.
Napoleon wasn’t intentionally watching them, but he found himself glancing over at them with increased regularity. I’m just watching to see how it goes, he rationalized.
Even though Napoleon would undoubtedly tease them later, he was happy for them. They were, after all, two of the most important people in his life. But Napoleon Solo could never pass up the opportunity for mischief.
Napoleon didn’t get the chance to initiate the mischief, though. When Illya glanced around for his waiter, he must have noticed Napoleon, because a different waiter came scurrying over soon after.
“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” he said, looking incredibly embarrassed, “But I’ve been asked to inform you that we need this table for a larger party.”
That was obviously a lie, since Napoleon’s table was only meant to sit two people, and there were plenty of other empty tables, but he complied, amused, and allowed himself to be reseated at another table, further away from Illya and Gaby.
Napoleon could still see them, but his view was partially obstructed by a couple tables. That didn’t deter him, though; if anything, it hardened his resolve.
Fine, Peril, be like that. It’s on.
Napoleon decided that if Illya was going to treat him as though he was spying on them even when he wasn’t, he would spy on them. A little espionage never hurt anyone.
Casually, so as not to arouse suspicion from other diners, Napoleon got up from his table, making his way to the men’s restroom. No one else was there, but nonetheless, Napoleon entered one of the stalls, locking the door behind him. He sat down on the toilet, removing his left shoe and pushing the heel in just the right way so the hollow compartment opened up. There wasn’t a lot of storage room, but it was still large enough to accommodate a tiny spy camera. Even though this was technically a vacation, Napoleon couldn’t shake old habits.
Exiting the restroom and returning to his table, Napoleon saw that Illya and Gaby were talking with their waiter, probably ordering food.
Keeping the camera hidden in his hand – it was no larger than his palm – Napoleon raised it, taking a few pictures of the happy couple. Illya would be infuriated to find out that he had photographed them, but once he stopped being angry, the pictures might make nice mementos.
Satisfied that he had collected sufficient blackmail material, Napoleon decided to sit back and watch the show. Illya shot anger glares in his direction every so often, but they became less and less frequent throughout their meal.
Since Napoleon had been seated first, he ordered dessert before Gaby and Illya had finished their meal.
A few moments later, another apologetic waiter appeared, this time explaining that Napoleon’s preferred dessert was currently unavailable. Napoleon ordered again, and assured the waiter that no harm had been done.
He wasn’t sure if it was Illya’s doing, or mere happenstance, but either way, Napoleon wanted to repay the favor. Calling Gaby and Illya’s waiter over, Napoleon told the man to give them a bottle of the restaurant’s best wine, on his tab.
The waiter nodded, and asked “Who should I tell them sent it?”
Napoleon smirked, and answered, “Just tell them it’s from someone who wishes them well.”
Nodding again, the waiter left. A few moments later, Napoleon saw him return to Gaby and Illya, placing a small metal bucket on the table, inside of which rested the bottle, surrounded by ice.
Gaby asked something, but Napoleon’s view was partially blocked by Illya, so he couldn’t read her lips. The waiter answered, and Illya glanced over at Napoleon, narrowing his eyes threateningly.
The waiter brought out dessert menus for them to look at while they enjoyed Napoleon’s wine.
Napoleon was quite pleased to see that they had finally done something about the romantic tension that had been hovering around them since Rome. But Illya was so uptight, and so easy to irritate, that Napoleon just couldn’t help himself. Besides, Illya was the one who had started it, by having Napoleon’s table moved, just because they happened to be eating at the same restaurant.
It was entirely justified, really.
However, following them to the theater probably wasn’t.
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Illya didn’t understand. Why couldn’t they have just one night to themselves without Napoleon following their every move?
“Stupid Cowboy,” he muttered under his breath.
“What?” Gaby asked.
Illya shook his head, forcing a smile back onto his face. “Nothing.”
Gaby looked skeptical, but didn’t push it.
I will not let him ruin our night, Illya thought fiercely. They had just finished desserts, and once the waiter delivered the check, they could go to the theater as planned, and leave Napoleon behind.
Napoleon, however, clearly had other ideas.
As Illya was holding open the cab door for Gaby, he noticed Solo exiting the restaurant behind them, and hailing a cab. Illya shut Gaby’s door and waited until the other man got into his own cab, then walked around to the driver’s window. He knocked on the glass, and the driver rolled down the window.
“I’m sorry, sir,” said the cab driver, “but I already have a fare.”
“Does not matter,” replied Illya, “How much to not drive him?”
“Pardon?”
Illya huffed in annoyance. “How much do I have to pay you not to drive him?”
The driver looked confused at the stranger request, but told Illya his price. It was higher than Illya would have liked, but he paid the man nonetheless and quickly hurried back to the cab where Gaby was waiting. He didn’t glance back to see if Napoleon had left the taxi yet.
“What was that about?” Gaby asked as he slid into the seat next to her.
“Was talking to cab driver,” Illya said evasively, “Do not worry.”
“Well then,” she said, giving him one of her irresistible smiles, “Shall we go to the theater?”
“Yes,” he answered, “That is the plan.”
She laughed, even though Illya hadn’t meant it to be a joke, and told the driver where to take them.
This is perfect, thought Illya, and then remembered Solo. Almost perfect. But Gaby does not know, so it is perfect for her. And that is what matters.
Everything went smoothly until they were leaving the theater. As Illya was leaving the men’s room, a person brushed past him. Illya turned to apologize, but the man was already walking away.
And the man was Napoleon.
How did he get in? Illya wondered. Has he been here the entire time?
“Come on,” said Illya, grabbing Gaby by the hand. She had to hurry to match his long strides.
“Are you okay?” she asked, “You’ve seemed jumpy all night.”
Illya stopped, forcing himself to focus on Gaby. She was standing next to him, clutching his large hand in her smaller one, and giving him a look of such concern that he instantly hated himself for worrying her.
“I was thinking about Cowboy,” he said, giving her part of the truth, “He is probably getting into trouble.”
Gaby laughed, instantly relaxing. “Illya, you worry too much,” she told him, starting to walk towards the doors again, “Napoleon can take care of himself.”
I am not worried about him, Illya wanted to say, It is what he is doing that worries me. But he bit his tongue and followed Gaby outside onto the street.
“Can we walk back?” suggested Gaby, “It’s a beautiful night.”
It was indeed, and Illya agreed.
They took the side streets, avoiding the crowds and traffic. Illya was a little uncomfortable, not used to being with Gaby in a casual setting, let alone on a date. Gaby didn’t seem to have any such reservations, leaning against Illya as they walked and chattering about this and that.
Illya was so entranced by Gaby that he didn’t notice the person following them until they were halfway back.
He scanned the street behind them, but couldn’t make anything out in the semidarkness. Gaby must have noticed him looking, because she casually glanced over her shoulder, not stopping walking.
“They’re someone tailing us,” she muttered, leaning against Illya. He could tell from experience that this relaxed display of affection wasn’t real, merely a charade to throw off their tail.
“I think I know a shortcut,” Illya said, guiding them down a side street. He looked back just as the person walked under a streetlight, and realized with a jolt of anger that it was, of course, Napoleon. Illya had considered that it might be, but given his and Gaby’s job, he wasn’t taking any chances.
We could have been in danger, Illya fumed, And Gaby still does not know who it is. She must be scared.
Just as Illya thought this, Gaby stopped walking, and he was jerked backwards.
“What is it?” Illya asked, trying to pull her forward again. Gaby let go of his arm and started walking back towards where Napoleon was lurking in the shadows, a little ways away.
Does she know? Illya wondered. If she did, she had certainly done a good job hiding it. And if she does not know, she is incredibly brave. And reckless.
Gaby marched towards Napoleon, and after a moment’s hesitation, Illya followed.
“Excuse me,” Gaby said loudly, “Are you following us?”
Sheepishly, Solo came out of the shadows, joining them under the streetlight. Gaby held her purse like it was a weapon, advancing on him.
“It is very rude to follow someone while they’re on a date,” she lectured, “Even if you do know them. The restaurant was one thing, but this – this is ridiculous.”
“To be fair,” Napoleon said, holding his hands up in surrender – or maybe in defense, “The restaurant was a coincidence. I didn’t know you would be there.”
“But since we were there, it justified following us for the rest of the evening?”
Napoleon’s only response was to smile. He was trying to be charming, but under Gaby’s irate gaze, he looked more like a cowed schoolboy.
Illya was rather smug. Napoleon was getting what he deserved. His feeling of superiority disappeared rapidly when Gaby turned towards him, with the same murderous look in her eyes.
“And you,” she started, and Illya could practically hear Cowboy’s smirk.
“You knew he was tailing us, but you decided not to mention it because why? Don’t think I didn’t notice your little sabotage plots.”
“I – he –” Illya stumbled over his words, trying to find an excuse. Gaby was right, and he knew it.
“You two are absurd,” grumbled Gaby, walking away from them, “I should tell Waverly to put me on a different team.”
Illya shot Napoleon a look of disgust and ran after her.
“What?” she asked acidly.
“I…I am sorry,” Illya mumbled, unaccustomed to apologies, “I should have told you.”
“You should have,” Gaby agreed, but she seemed mollified by his words.
“And I’m sorry for tailing you on your date,” Napoleon added from behind Illya, “But –” Gaby narrowed her eyes, and he backtracked. “But now I realize how intrusive my actions were.”
Gaby sighed. “I suppose I have to forgive both of you now. But if you ever do that again, Napoleon, I will kneecap you.”
Illya allowed himself a small smile. He had no doubt that Gaby would follow through on her threat.
“And Illya, Waverly would give me a different team if I asked. Remember, I’m his favorite.”
Her tone was sweet, but there was a glint in her eyes that told Illya not to push her.
“With that pleasant death threat, I think I’ll leave you two alone,” Napoleon said, winking cheekily, “Have fun.”
Gaby looped her arm through Illya, and they resumed their walk.
“I guess it was silly of me to expect a normal date,” Gaby commented.
“For us,” Illya said, “This is normal.”