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It wasn’t supposed to go this way.
Gaby fought hard to imagine that her trembling was just the bumpy road. She could feel eyes drilling holes into the back of her neck but refused to do anything but look out the window. Her body ached and was caked in blood that wasn’t hers, but asking for help was not an option.
“Can I turn on the radio?”
Napoleon Solo was not answered yet still turned it on. The silence Napoleon had shattered was replaced with a report on the weather. He glanced in the rear view mirror and frowned at what he saw. Illya Kuryakin was staring intently at Gaby. Gaby’s shaking body hadn’t moved from the same position she had been in when she had first been shoved into the stolen vehicle. She was pressed into the door with her hands holding a ruined piece of clothing to a wound on her head.
“Gaby, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” She hoarsely whispered, still not moving. Illya looked towards Napoleon with a worried look. The Red Peril himself looked like a kicked puppy. “Illya, you need to stop looking at me,” she croaked, “and Solo, you need to focus on the road.” Illya slowly took his gaze and started focusing on the back of Napoleon’s head. “Mistakes happen, boys. It isn’t the first time, and it probably won’t be the last.” The rest of the drive was filled with tension, but stupid songs and news were the only noises that accompanied it.
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Bruno Wagner was a simple man. He liked his women hot, young, skinny, and German. He was 59, a former nazi, single, full of anger issues, and ready to mingle. Due to that knowledge, Waverly decided the best way to gain information on Bruno’s Nazi colleagues was to use Gaby Teller, who was skinny, hot, and German, as a seductress. She didn’t need to have sex with him, but distract him long enough to let one of her fellow agents break into his home and grab the needed information. Gaby would be waiting for him at a bar that the mark frequently visited a lonely girl visiting Italy from Germany at a bar. She would take him back to her hotel and take care of him. Illya voiced his disapproval several times, but Gaby was her own woman. Illya insisted on following the Russian way, but the arrangements were made.
Illya watched Gaby get dressed in an outfit he picked out for her with a scowl on his face. (He was never going to let her go into a mission without looking nice.)Though the man’s hands were busy playing chess, she could feel his gaze following her every move. She was putting earrings on at the vanity when Illya suddenly walked away from his spot on the couch. Gaby watched the Russian as he made his way to her chair. She drew her attention back to her dangly earrings but still glanced at him.
The giant kneeled next to her and stared at her. An uncomfortable amount of seconds passed before Gaby finally broke the uncomfortable silence. “Yes?” She snapped impatiently.
“Are you sure about this?” He gently grabbed her legs and turned her body to face him. She saw his furrowed brown and slightly downturned lips.“Missions like these may not go as planned.”
“I can handle myself,” the mechanic replied curtly. Doubt was not something she enjoyed.“Just because we have sex,” she paused to sigh, ”doesn’t mean I can’t do my job.” Illya visibly tensed. His hand on her thigh began tapping in time and his breathing became ragged.. Her words finally hit her.
Illya got up and moved away.
The small woman followed the unstable form through the hotel room. “Illya, wait.” When he stopped at the bathroom sink, she lightly pressed her hand into his hunched back. “I’m sorry.” Illya straightened into his full height and turned around. He avoided her gaze while gathering his coat, gloves and hat.
“You should go to the bar.” He was right. The mark was scheduled to arrive soon. Napoleon probably was already at the bar flirting with a pretty young thing. Illya would be gathering information in the mark’s residence. Gaby watched as the large man left the hotel room quietly.
Break something. She needed to break something. She spotted a vase holding artificial flowers, threw it violently, and watched as it shattered against a wall. The bad taste the conversation left in her mouth was still there and the pit still in her stomach, but the agent had to swallow it down if she wanted to be waiting there before the mark got arrived.
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Gaby wished she had listened to Illya. Bruno Wagner was a stupid man with disgusting jokes. The only thing the mark was good for was refilling her cup. Napoleon looked up once in a while from whatever woman he was intoxicating and gave her a sympathetic smile. Gaby returned the smile with a glare. The mechanic decided that she had had enough and decided to suggest going back to her hotel room with a tipsy smirk on her lips.
“I think I’d rather go to my home, babe.” Wagner moved his hands down her back and leaned in. “I’ve got mirrors on the ceiling,” he whispered in a seductive manner. Gaby was revolted, but hid it with a drunken giggle. “Besides, my house is closer,” he added while his hands moved towards her ass.
No, Illya would get caught. How is she supposed to get out of this? An idea popped into her head, but would it work? She wracked her brain for more solutions but nothing. Not wasting any more time, she put her plan into action.“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” she moaned into his ear.
The mark’s pupils dilated. Gaby’s words disgusted herself, but the job has to be done. He was practically frozen as she dragged him to a restroom in a far corner of the bar, away from all the patrons. Gaby shot a look at Solo who was watching her carefully. As soon as the pair entered, he devoured her. He was rushed, and it was not pleasurable. He was roughly kneading her breast. It hurt more than anything, but she still moaned as if she cared. The man was removing both their clothes. Gaby didn’t care enough to put in effort, but Wagner didn’t seem to mind. Her expensive dress was thrown into a corner of the disgusting restroom. Illya was going to have a fit.
Illya. The name had brought her more pleasure than the sweaty man in front of her.
Gaby closed her eyes and started imagining a different scenario. The movie in her mind made her smile. Illya was taking care of her. They were so swept up in a fit of passion that the couple couldn’t contain themselves. The Russian had taken her to the bathroom so they could take care of their urges. The German girl had ripped off their clothes because Illya was too much of a gentleman to do it himself. The fantasy had clouded her mind while the mark nibbled at her neck.
“Illya, don’t stop.”
Bruno stopped and backed away from the bare girl. “What the fuck did you just say?” He asked, seething.
Gaby hesitated.
He grabbed her neck. “What did you say?” He venomously spat out again.
She would’ve answered, but the hands around her throat proved that difficult. The female agent shoved him off of her body, but he was strong. She prayed Napoleon, Illya, or anyone would interrupt the fight. Gaby would like to believe that she was a good agent, but she was much weaker than this man.
She gasped for air after Bruno let go. The relief of breathing was short-lived as Bruno shoved her into the bathroom stalls and yelled obscenities at her. He kicked and punched her. Gaby’s face was swelling and her body trembling. Her vision was not lasting and she was losing in the battle with unconsciousness. She heard the bathroom door burst open and watched two tall figures follow through before she gave in to the darkness.
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When Gaby awoke, she was leaning against a car door while her fellow U.N.C.L.E. agents stared at her. She was covered in blood she did not own. She trusted that her partners had killed Bruno or severely injured him. Too tired to deal with facing her male companions, the mechanic simply turned her head and focused on the streets the group was driving past.
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Gaby made her way to her hotel room with a lot of help from Illya. Solo had slipped off to take care of loose ends. Illya helped her to bed and had her lie down. She undressed to expose the true nature of her injuries.The German was angry at him for getting her into this predicament, but she knew that it wasn’t his fault.
Just to hear his voice, she breathed out, “did you get the information?”
“Yes,” he replied, still focusing on her injuries,”you did well.”
“I’m sorry,” Gaby blurted out with more force than she exprected. “For this morning, I mean. You more to me than I can express.”
Illya gave her a weak smile. “I know,” the man responded.
The two sat in silence while he treated her. She stared at him while ignoring the pain. Thinking about running her hands through his blonde hair, him holding her small hands within his large ones, and just feeling his warmth while he slept made her feel a hell of a lot better.
The man dressed her in her favorite oversized pajamas, tucked her in gently, and set up a glass of water for the next morning before turning to leave.
“You better turn back around and hold me under the covers, or I’ll be forced to move my ailing body and drag you back,” she weakly spoke.
“We can’t have that now. Can we?” The KGB agent said with a small smile. He took off his shoes and jacket, and climbed into her bed. He held her as he felt her breathing deepen and stabilize. He examined the mechanic’s peaceful face before ghosting his lips against her head. Though her body was marred by bruises by now, she was still the most beautiful thing that he had ever seen.
“Я люблю тебя, my little chop shop girl.”