Archive of Our Own

After Waverly had informed them of their new assignment in Istanbul, they’d promptly started packing. Or rather, having their personal items packed for them.

Gaby’s heart had dropped. She hadn’t expected him to be on the roof with Napoleon when she went up; the second his eyes had landed on her, she froze.

She’d had to go back to her room and clean up a bit before leaving; her hair was mussed, so she’d put it into an updo. She changed her undergarments and dress, as they were all wrinkled.

Gaby and Illya had not said a word to each other.

They’d all squeezed themselves into the limousine taking them to the airport, and it wasn’t until they’d been a full 15 minutes into their flight that Waverly sat them down to explain.

“I won’t get into the nasty details of amalgamating you three into a team; I’d rather detail your assignment. MI6 has caught wind of a potential coup among the high ranking militia, and it’s your job to find out who’s orchestrating it, and who’s in support.”

“And how do you expect us to do that?” Napoleon asked with an arched brow.

“I’ll get to it, Solo, if you’ll let me.” Waverly raised his own in reply. “Your assignment is to infiltrate a number of galas and balls, and there are three roles for you three to choose from. Somewhat similar to your last assignment, there’s a married couple and a distantly related cousin. They’re all up for grabs,” Waverly looks between the three of them.

“Well, we all know I’m going to be the wife anyways. It’s not like that’s a surprise.” Gaby rolled her eyes.

After Illya had sat next to her, she had started a coughing fit. She had been hastily stealing glances at his face, his hands, and most shamefully, his… genitalia.

Gaby had no clue how to control herself around him. She lusted after him in a most unladylike way. She normally didn’t care about how ladylike she was, but her conduct had earned her a few odd glances from Napoleon in the few hours they had spent together today. It was truly humiliating, the way her hands were quivering simply from sitting next to him.

Gaby could feel her breath entering her lungs in an unsteady manner, and subtly slipped her hands to rest under her thighs so they wouldn’t shake as much.

There were a few different ways she saw this playing out. If Napoleon was her husband, Illya would surely be jealous. But there was the matter of their looks, and accents. Gaby had to consider all of the factors. Gaby and Napoleon could pass as cousins. Illya could not be related to either of them. And there was the matter of his accent, too. So Illya would have to be the husband.

“Oh, I forgot to mention.” Waverly added sheepishly. “Since Turkey is an Islamic nation, we at MI6 decided to have the couple be married rather than engaged. And there will only be one bed available, since you’re supposed to be married.”

Perfect.

“I think Illya should be the husband.” Gaby stated carefully.

Both men sent her an odd look; Napoleon’s was a mere glance, questioning and only slightly offended. Illya’s was more of a warning glare, although she didn’t miss the way he glanced her up and down. How could she miss it?

Her legs were trembling from simply breathing him in. Gaby couldn’t stop remembering what they were doing a mere few hours ago.

Her hands trailed down his abdomen, tracing the chiseled muscles shuddering under her touch… he whimpered as she tugged us hair… his hands engulfed her body into shudders as he worked them around her heat…

“Okay. Talk me through your plan.” Waverly leans back in his seat, twirling a pen in his left hand.

Purposefully ignoring Napoleon and Illya’s watchful gazes, she continued on. “Napoleon could be my cousin. We look somewhat alike, whereas if Illya was supposed to be either of our cousins, it wouldn’t be believable.”

Outraged, Illya exclaimed, “I could be your cousin if I had to be!”

She turned and glared. “You are blond, blue-eyed, and Russian. You would not be a very believable cousin.”

Napoleon interjected. “I agree with Gaby. Besides, Illya and Gaby have experience with each other. They know each other well. Very well.” He shot a look at Gaby, wiggling his eyebrows.

Illya started coughing unceremoniously, and Gaby simply looked at Waverly. He appeared to be very bored.

“Well. That’s that, then.” Waverly slapped his pants on his thighs and reached for a small stack of papers. He handed a booklet to each of them. “This is your guide to everything you need to be for this cover.”

“These are basically us.” Napoleon frowned. “At least, mine feels very pointed.”

“Well, these were tailored to suit you three. It’s easier to tell a half truth than a lie.” Waverly shrugged.

Gaby basically tuned out the rest of the conversation.

If they were sharing a bedroom… her abdomen quivered at the mere thought of it. No, Illya being the gentleman he was, he would likely insist on sleeping on the couch or on the floor. She would find a way.

They were given different luggage with everything they would need, and were only allowed to put in their personal effects. The trio changed into their new personas on the plane, and wouldn’t change out of them until they were leaving Istanbul.

She would find a way to do this, and figure out her shit with Illya.