Holiday U.N.C.L.E. Story, Christmas/New Years 2003
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Presented in 2 parts -- Part 1 - The Christmas Party Affair By Vicki "Taz" Titus Part 2 - The Revenge of the Russian Elf Affair By Kathy Norton
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The Christmas Party Affair, Part 1
Napoleon Solo leisurely watched the antics of his fellow partygoers, enjoying the upbeat mood of the festivities. For operatives that often worked through the holidays, the U.N.C.L.E. office party presented their only chance to unwind and enjoy the season. Each year, Alexander Waverly attempted to turn the cafeteria into a miniature Santa's workshop for a few hours, with a scattering of presents throughout the garland and tinsel decorated room. Although often unable to attend the affair, he still tried to present his agents with a jovial environment to begin the holiday season.
Solo had arranged for this year's party to be even more amusing than prior ones. Waverly had promised a completely unbiased selection of the "elves" for the function. He had gone so far as to draw the names from a pair of hats in front of witnesses in his office, one for the male elf, and another for the female one. If anyone had watched the CEA during the selection process, however, they might have suspected something from the smug look on his face when the names were announced.
By means of the rigged selection process, his partner, Illya Kuryakin, had been 'chosen' to be one of the two elves at the function. April had been assigned the role of the other elf, but Napoleon suspected she would spend most of her time making sure that the blond handed out the presents instead of retreating into a corner of the room with a plate piled high with food. Left to his own devices, Napoleon knew that the usually reserved agent would do just that.
The CEA watched as the taciturn Russian, complete with green elf hat and shoulder holster, worked his way through the revelers. Throughout the evening, Illya had distributed almost all the gag gifts to their intended recipients, forced to greet each one with a smile and a 'Merry Christmas.' The incongruity of the situation brought a smile to the American's face as he watched his partner distribute the gifts.
At the mid-point of the time allotted for the party, all the presents had been distributed except those packages designated for the 'elves' and their respective partners. Walking up to his now surly partner as the blond began to ravage the buffet table, Solo quipped, "You better be careful or you could get kicked out of the elves guild for dereliction of duty."
"No need, I quit," snarled the Russian, continuing to pile food onto his already overloaded dish. Kuryakin's foul mood seemed to visibly lighten with each morsel of food he added to the plate.
"You still have four presents to deliver," Napoleon prodded, smiling across the buffet table at the agent. With an audible harrumph of disapproval, Illya sat down the plate, staring icy daggers at his partner's back as he walked away.
Collecting the remaining packages, Kuryakin walked back toward the area Solo had retreated to. Shortly before reaching Napoleon, however, he stopped. Turning his back toward his partner, the wily Russian began to fuss with one of the packages. Unable to see what the blond doing, the CEA grew increasingly suspicious.
After a few moments, Illya turned back around and walked to where his partner was attempting to appear casual at he perched on one of the folding chairs scattered around the room. Beside him were April and Mark, the only other agents who had not yet received their presents. With an all too obviously fake smile pasted on his face, he handed April her intricately wrapped present and snarled "Merry Christmas". Turning to Mark, he flashed him a similar toothy grin and passed him a gift with an equally elaborate set of decorations. After also telling the English agent "Merry Christmas", Illya turned to face his partner, and the grin became more sinister. Handing the taller man the smaller of the two remaining presents, he announced, "Merry Christmas, Napoleon. I hope you get a bang out of your present."
Solo eyed the offered present with alarm, wondering what his revenge minded partner might have secreted in the ornate wrapping. Finally reaching out to accept the gift, he answered simply, "Thank you." Holding the package carefully, he added, "April, why don't you open your present first?"
Nodding, April removed the wrappings surrounding her present to reveal an unadorned white box. Lifting the lid, she found a small collection of lipsticks, eye shadow and rogue labeled "a girl's first makeup kit". Laughing, she displayed the present for the three men and exclaimed, "Your turn, Mark."
Quickly tearing through the ribbons and paper, Mark also found a similar plain box. Opening it, he found a red and white child's hat with a propeller on the top, the kind made popular by a 1950's cartoon show. Taking the beanie out of the box, he exclaimed with a smile, "And here I was trying to figure out what to wear to the New Years party. Guess that's all settled now."
All three agents turned to face the CEA. Still covertly examining the present for whatever trap his partner had slipped into the wrapping, Solo commented, "Why don't you open your gift now, Illya?"
Watching Napoleon as he considered whether his present had been booby-trapped brought a hint of a smile to the Russian's face. Immediately hiding the pleasure his trick on his partner brought him, Kuryakin turned his attention to the Christmas package he still held. Gently removing each layer of decoration as if he were disassembling a bomb, Illya finally reached the present: a child's chemistry set. Debating how he could inflict the collection of chemicals onto his partner, he turned to Solo. "When are you going to open your present?" he asked, struggling to keep his face emotionless.
After one final speculative glance at Kuryakin, Napoleon began to unwrap the package. Minutes ticked by as he painstakingly removed each ribbon and every piece of tape holding the paper in place. That step accomplished without any major explosions, he proceeded to gently lift up the paper on top of his package, displaying the same type of white box that had held all the other presents.
Opening the box, Solo found a book entitled, "New York City on 10 Dollars a Day". Craning his neck to see the contents of the box as Napoleon opened it, Mark quipped, "Commentary on your expense account?"
Napoleon's glared at the English agent, who only laughed in response. April, still dressed in her green elf hat, simply shook her head and chuckled. As she did, the large jingle bell at the end of her elf hat accompanied the sound of her laughter.
Illya finally decided to deliver the punch line of his elaborate act of revenge for being cast as an elf. "Didn't you say you had a date with Gina tonight?" he asked. Watching his partner look at his watch with increasing alarm, he allowed his enigmatic half-smile to flash across his face.
Concluding that his partner had triggered exactly the reaction he wanted, Solo shot him a withering glance. With an oh-so-innocent shrug of his shoulders that send the bell on his hat jingling, Kuryakin pretended to intently examine the chemistry set he had. The CEA hoped he was pretending, at least.
Shoving his renewed paranoia to the corner of his mind, Napoleon bid them a hasty goodbye and charged toward his office to pick up Gina's present, knowing it would take more than a few kisses under the mistletoe to get back into her good graces for being more than a half hour late.
******************The Revenge of the Russian Elf Affair, Part 2
Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin scowled at the pair of hats on his desk, and the contents thereof, which were carefully spread out across the blotter. One hat’s contents consisted of the names of all female personnel there at New York headquarters. Every slip from the other hat contained his name--and only his name.
Well, that would certainly explain the look on your face, my friend. Kuryakin frowned at the memory of his partner’s smug grin during the selection process. While he found the concept slightly silly, Illya was willing to take his chances one-on-one, just like everyone else. This, on the other hand, was irrefutable proof of underhanded chicanery, which definitely called for retaliatory measures.
When the blond agent had objected to wearing the ridiculous green hat with the large, jingling bell on the tip, Solo had laughed and clapped him on the back, saying, "Come on, IK, get into the spirit. Look at it as just another impersonation. You’re going under cover as an elf for the next couple of hours. How bad can it be?"
The answer was, Very bad indeed. For the next two days, every time Solo glanced his way, he would snicker and murmur "Undercover Elf," before breaking out into varying degrees of laughter.
When the time came to actually appear in public in the offensive chapeau, Kuryakin was prepared to go through with it in his usual stoic manner, until he removed his jacket and Solo remarked, "Gee, that’s the first time I ever saw an elf in a shoulder holster."
"I’m on duty," the Russian agent snarled, and stalked off to collect his load of booty for distribution.
He didn’t discover the "evidence" for another day and a half. Now that he had, it was time to consider a suitable revenge. He did, after all, have a certain reputation to maintain as a man not to be trifled with.
Proper revenge in this case would require a slight amount of outside cooperation-in other words, a co-conspirator or two. Illya knew just the ones to ask, too.
The plan was set. Now, to begin the implementation. He moved across to Napoleon’s desk and flipped through the Rolodex , looking for Solo’s favorite florist’s phone number.
"Hello? Yes, I’m calling for Napoleon Solo. He’d really like to know if it’s still possible to place an order for ten pounds worth of mistletoe. It is? No, no delivery. I’ll be in the neighborhood-I’ll pick it up for him. Thank you. Oh, and charge it to Mr. Solo’s account, naturally. Yes, that’s right. Tomorrow would be fine, thank you again. I’m sure Mr. Solo will be immensely grateful." Illya hung up the phone. Step One had been accomplished.
Steps Two and Three went off without a hitch also. April and Mark cheerfully distributed the sprigs of mistletoe to each and every female employee at headquarters, along with the appropriate instructions/suggestions. Illya didn’t expect 100% participation, but he was sure to have far more response than he needed.
Step Four was simple. For the next few days, right up until Christmas, females descended upon the unsuspecting but cooperative Solo armed with the mistletoe sprigs. They all got their kisses, and Illya Kuryakin was acquiring an interesting collection of freeze frames from the standard security surveillance cameras in Section Five. Contrary to popular opinion, Napoleon Solo was not his only friend.
On December 26th, Napoleon Solo found a plain manila envelope on his desk. The address was merely his name, typed in the center of the folder. Inside, a single folded sheet of paper, also with a typed message. JUST YOU WAIT was typed across the top half of the page. There was no signature, but none was necessary. The other contents of the envelope were the slips of paper that said Illya Kuryakin that had filled Mr. Waverly’s male elf selection hat.
Napoleon had thought it was a good joke on his somber partner at the time. Now, he was not so sure.
Illya Kuryakin seemed to be his normal, slightly reserved self the rest of the week. No mention was made of the envelope or message by either him or Solo. In fact, he was almost too cheerful.
Napoleon trusted his partner least when he was like that. It usually meant Kuryakin was about to do something very dirty to someone, and in this case, Solo was sure he was intimately acquainted with the victim. Himself.
On New Year’s Eve, Napoleon arrived for work looking forward to his date that night with Gina. She had forgiven him for being late for their date after the office Christmas party, and Napoleon had planned a special New Year’s Eve to make it up to her.
He found a cluster of fellow agents around the office bulletin board, and his heart sank as he read the message posted there:
SPECIAL SEMINAR FOR FEMALE HEADQUARTERS PERSONNEL
There will be a special video seminar offered for all female personnel in the New
Headquarters this afternoon at 3 PM. The subject of the seminar is Dermofacial
Labial Juxtaposition Dexterity. Special Guest Demonstration by Napoleon Solo.
Narrated by Illya Kuryakin.
JUST YOU WAIT, flashed through Solo’s mind as he read the message. With a sick feeling, he recalled the odd but pleasant abundance of women armed with sprigs of mistletoe who had accosted him in the halls, offices, the cafeteria-everywhere he went for the last week, it seemed. Now he knew why. The phrase special video seminar seemed to float hauntingly in front of his eyes as he made his escape to his office.
In said office, Illya Kuryakin was at his desk, working on something. He did not look up as Solo entered, but the can of film on his desk was hard to miss. Solo could read the title from the door a few feet away: DERMOFACIAL LABIAL DEXTERITY SEMINAR.
"Blackmail doesn’t become you, Illya," Solo remarked mildly as he hung his coat on the tree by the door.
"Says whom?" Kuryakin replied mildly. "Perhaps the next time you indulge in that quaint American pastime of-what do they call it?-ballot-box stuffing?-you will give some consideration to the potential consequences."
"It was a joke, Illya! Where’s your sense of humor?"
"Right there." Illya looked up at that and smiled a truly evil smile.
Solo gulped. "So I see. All right, you win. What’s it going to cost me to have this ‘seminar’ canceled? AND the negatives destroyed?"
Clearly the Russian had given the matter some consideration. "You do the paperwork for the next three months-yours and mine."
"Three months! That’s blackmail!"
Illya looked up and grinned, unperturbed. "Fine. Drop in at three-I think you’ll find it an interesting presentation."
"All right, you win. I do the paperwork for both of us for the next three months." Solo snatched the can of film off Kuryakin’s desk and headed out, intent on destroying the contents as soon as possible.
Behind him, Illya merely smiled, thinking of all the 8x10 prints safely stashed somewhere Napoleon would never think to look.
© 2003 Taz and K.Norton
