Work Text:
1.
“Napoleon Solo, don’t you dare.”
Napoleon froze, glancing backwards at Gaby. She was watching him, her eyes glittering dangerously. Slowly, wary of any sudden movements, Napoleon retracted his hand from the safe.
“It’s only a necklace, Gaby,” he protested, “They won’t notice –”
“No.” Gaby hadn’t moved from her position in the doorway. She looked genuinely angry, and Napoleon had to admit, he was a little scared. He didn’t understand why it was such a big deal; they had already broken in, what difference did it make if he took a little something extra?
“We can’t risk it,” Gaby explained, almost as though she had heard his thoughts, “This is an important mission. I won’t let it be ruined because of you infatuation with anything that shines.”
That strung. Napoleon closed the safe, not looking at Gaby. It’s not an infatuation. I’m just –
Napoleon’s train of thought was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
“Time to move,” whispered Illya as he moved towards the door.
2.
“What was that?” Gaby hissed. She had dragged Illya to a deserted balcony, ignoring his protests. “What was what?” asked Illya, confused. This response didn’t seem to amuse Gaby.
“That’s the third time tonight you’ve interrupted me,” she said, “The whole point of us attending this ball is for one of us to get close the target.”
“He was getting too close,” muttered Illya angrily. “We were talking!” Gaby fumed, nearly stamping her foot out of frustration.
“Listen,” she said, “I understand there’s something here –,” she gestured between them, “And we should talk about it, but right now, we have a mission to complete. So let’s focus on the job, okay?”
Illya nodded his consent. She was right, he shouldn’t have let his feelings for her interfere with their mission.
3.
Gaby shot out of her seat, slamming her hands down on the table.
“How could you let this happen?” she demanded, voice shaking with anger and terror. Waverly stood up, coming around the table and laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She shrugged him off, her eyes full of accusation.
“Gaby,” he said soothingly, “I’m sure they’re fine. Solo and Kuryakin can take care of themselves –”
“That doesn’t make it okay!” Gaby was screaming now, and Waverly could tell she was close to tears. She paused, breathing deeply, eyes closed. Finally, she opened them again, taking a step towards him.
“You will find them,” she whispered, “You will use every resource available, because if anything has happened to them, I will hold you accountable.”
She stormed out of the room before Waverly could formulate a response.
+1.
Solo couldn’t help himself; he had to smile when he saw Gaby in her Halloween costume.
“What?” She asked, “What is it?
“Nothing,” he replied innocently, “You look – very cute.”
Gaby’s shoulders slumped, and she mumbled “Oh.”
Illya glared at Napoleon, who shrugged helplessly.
“I’m sorry, Gabs,” said Napoleon, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. She adjusted her pointed hat, and valiantly attempted a smile.
“It’s alright,” Gaby said, “I was just hoping for less ‘cute’ and more ‘terrifying witch’.”
“You are terrifying,” Illya assured her stoically, “You are the scariest witch I have ever seen.”
Gaby smiled, a real one this time, and linked arms with Napoleon and Illya.
“Come on, we’re going to be late to the party.”