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Solo was hiding laughter behind that bland, beautiful face of his and Gaby was about to die, her ribs were aching so bad from holding her mirth back.
“I think it's a good look on you,” she finally managed with a straight face.
Illya shot her a look that managed to be panicked and irate at the same time and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing in his face.
“Why do I have to tend to the infant?” he whispered, still standing with the sleeping baby held away from him like she was a bomb about to explode.
“Russian mission, Russian baby, Russian caretaker,” Solo said cheerfully, closing his newspaper with a snap and stood. “Since this leg of the mission likely won't require all three of us, I'm going to go do some surveillance.” He stopped at the door and said, “Just remember: we get the ring, we decode the location to the bunker, we give the kid back, mission complete.”
He swanned out before they could remind him that they knew the mission perimeters, thank you.
Illya turned to her, disgruntled. “Why would a baby eat a ring?”
“From my understanding, if it's at hand and small enough, babies will eat anything,” she said slowly standing to walk towards him.
He gave her a speculative look and lifted the baby towards her. “You seem to know a lot about babies.”
“Not enough to care for one without killing it,” she said, taking his face in her hands instead of the child he was desperately trying to pass off to her. “I'm a chop shop girl from East Berlin.” She gave his cheek a rough tap. “Besides. You have the gentlest hands of anyone on this team.”
He sneared at her even as he allowed her to reposition the baby in his arms. “I once shattered a German soldier's spine with one blow. I'm not gentle.”
She went back to stroking his face. “Oh, but you are when it matters most.”
He looked at her, lost, and she was reminded yet again that growing up in Russia with the threat of Siberia hadn't been any easier than growing up in East Berlin.
“What if I break her?” he finally whispered.
“You won't,” she said simply. “You don't give yourself nearly enough credit, Illya Kuryakin.”
He flushed and started to lean into her when a mewling cry made him go still and stiff. “Gaby.”
She ignored the pleading in his tone and stepped back, hands raised. “I have a meeting with Waverly to assess my progress. I really have to go.”
She was going to be 45 minutes early and both of them knew it, but the point was made. He was going to have to figure out the baby thing on his own.
She turned back to see him staring at the wailing baby, panicked. “Just think of her as though she were me.”
She closed the door as he said, “You are small, but you have never been weak.”
***
Three hours of Waverly being entirely too amused about the fact that, every time she flashed a little skin to coerce some unsuspecting male into telling her more than he should, Illya broke something, Gaby met Solo in front of their hotel.
“You actually left him alone with an innocent baby,” Solo said as he matched her stride through the lobby.
“Yes,” she said, tilting her chin up. “And I suspect they are both alive and well.”
“You have a lot of faith in him,” he said as the elevator ground its way upwards.
“No more than he deserves,” she said, trying to think of a way to make him stop asking questions about things that she hadn't had time to really think about.
Fortunately, the elevator jerked to a stop and she sailed out before he could think of a rejoinder. She honestly didn't think Illya would purposefully hurt a child, but she also knew that sometimes he couldn't control his temper.
They walked into the silent suite and Gaby started to feel like she'd made a huge mistake until they rounded the corner to see Illya standing in front of the window cradling their tiny guest to his chest.
He looked up at them and shrugged. “Would you like good news first or bad news?”
“Good news,” Solo said before she could say bad.
“We have the ring,” Illya said, lifting his hand to show the gaudy thing around his pinky. “And bad news is that sources tell me we cannot just give the baby back.”
“I was afraid of that,” Solo sighed. “From what I gathered, Dolonov hid the stolen research, then sold the whereabouts to the highest bidder. He smuggled it to them using that.”
He motioned at the sleeping baby, causing Illya to snarl.
“And around two hours ago, an assassin broke into the Scharf home and slaughtered the couple, which means we cannot simply return Kisa to them.”
“Oh dear. He's named it,” Solo said, shaking his head.
Gaby slapped his shoulder as she passed. “Behave.” She stepped in front of Illya and ran finger down the baby's cheek. “And what does Kisa mean?”
Illya flushed. “Kitten
She could feel herself melting. This massive mountain of a man, who hadn't had nearly enough tenderness in his life, had quickly grown attached to this child. It was adorable, even to a woman that wasn't given to softness.
“I would like to remind everyone that we're spies,” Solo said and it was like someone dumped cold water over her.
“I'm not suggesting that we keep her,” Illya said, scowling at him. “I am merely saying that we should treat her like an actual human being, give her a name, drop her off somewhere besides an overfilled German orphanage.”
Gaby looked at Solo who managed to look both amused and relieved.
“Well, now. That we can manage,” he said, going to the phone in the corner.
Gaby looked at Illya, who looked unbearably sad. “You want to keep her.”
“It is a nice dream,” he said as his mask of indifference slid into place. “But only a dream.”
She stepped into him and murmured, “Even Russian spies get to dream, Illya.”
He closed the distance between them. “Not when they are me.”
And that decided that. She straightened her spine. “We'll just see about that.”
He looked startled by that pronouncement, but was cut short when Waverly entered, looking like he was laughing at them all. “Solo informs me that we need to relocate our guest out of the country.”
“We're keeping her,” Gaby announced and had the great pleasure of seeing three men that were rarely shocked absolutely gobsmacked. It was delightful.
“We're not,” Illya said, recovering first. She spun on him and he leaned into her. “We have time. You can help me learn to dream, but not yet. Not with Kisa. She deserves better than we can give her right now.”
She clenched her jaw, but finally nodded, taking the baby from him and heading for the bedroom. “I'll leave you to make the arrangements.”
They weren't ready yet, but they would be some day.