Illya Kuryakin was bored. In his opinion, this meeting was totally unnecessary, as he and his partner had already informed Mr. Waverly of absolutely everything that had happened on their mission. And so that was why, in the middle of a top-security level briefing, he was doodling on the back of a report, trying to stay awake.

Napoleon Solo, equally bored, merely watched Illya.

In fact, he had found himself doing it a lot lately, just watching the other man. The watching was just a small part of the upset in his life as of late, and it was one of the nicer parts.

He peered at the doodles as unobtrusively as possible, and almost laughed. Illya was drawing little loopy hearts, something totally out of character. He had half a mind to check the man for a concussion, but it was obvious that he wasn't paying attention to what his hand was doing, because when he glanced down at the paper, he scowled to himself and scratched the heart out.

"Mr. Kuryakin? Is something wrong?"

"What? Oh, no, Sir, Mr. Waverly." He answered quickly, setting his pen down.

Napoleon hid a smile and continued watching, looking back to their superior every so often to avoid getting caught with his mind so obviously wandering.

Another heart appeared, and this time Illya went so far as to write 'HC' in the center, before looking down again, and, with a shocked and appalled expression, crossing the whole thing out so vehemently that he stabbed a hole through his paper.

"Mr. Kuryakin?"

Illya blushed. "I am sorry, Sir. It wont happen again."

"No, I would think not. You gentlemen are dismissed." He waved the agents off, picking up his pipe. "I shall try not to bore you in the future."

"Oh, no, Mr. Waverly, I wasn't--"

"It's quite all right, Mr. Kuryakin, I found the whole affair quite dull myself. However, next time I would appreciate it if you did not disturb the entire meeting."

Properly chastised, the young Russian ducked out of the office.

---/-/---

Napoleon found his partner in the commissary. "Hey."

"Hello, Napoleon. Care to sit down?"

"Don't mind if I do." He grinned easily, but inside he felt anything but calm. HC... apparently, someone Illya had feelings for. Also, apparently something he did not trust Napoleon enough to talk to him about. He and Illya were best friends. The thought that he was being left out was disturbing. After all, didn't Napoleon always tell Illya all about his latest romantic conquest?

"I'm afraid Mr. Waverly is unhappy with me. There was a visiting Section 1 official from Los Angeles in that meeting, and I made rather a mess of things."

"Really? Hadn't noticed." He lied. "How's the soup today?"

"It's all right. How bad was I, really?"

"Illya, it was nothing."

"You did notice, Napoleon. How bad was it? I mean, was I very noticable? Did I disturb the visiting official?"

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure Mr. Bull was nodding off himself."

Illya smiled. "Well, that's good news, then."

"So what were you scribbling?" Napoleon asked casually, picking at his lunch, his eyes on his partner.

"Nothing." Illya finished his soup and stood. "Well, I have to go down to the labs to help out with a project now. I will see you later to finish revising the reports."

"Right." He sighed, watching the blond man leave. Okay, so he didn't want to talk. But eventually, he'd open up.

The knot in the pit of Napoleon's stomach tightened.

---/-/---

To be continued.

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