"No, no, NO!" Illya Kuryakin growled angrily, his voice rising.

"Having a bad day, are we?" Napoleon Solo asked as he cautiously entered their shared office.

Seeing the dark haired agent, the cause of his ire, only inflamed Illya more.

"Why must you be so difficult!?" he demanded, his Russian accent strong.

"Me!? What did *I* do?" Napoleon asked, wide-eyed.

"How am I supposed to give you a birthday present when you already have everything!?"

"Uh...Thank you for the thought, but my birthday was yesterday..."

"Exactly!" Illya threw his hands in the air. "And I have yet to find you a present! You have a boat, a penthouse, a new car, you've already seen the entire world. What is there left that you need?"

As if the fight had suddenly gone out of him, the blond agent dropped onto his chair, drained and defeated.

Seeing his partner hunched over his desk, his lower lip in full pout, brought a twinkle to the older man's eyes.

"Well..." Napoleon said, sitting on the edge of Illya's desk. "I'm sorry, but you're right. There isn't anything I need. There is, however, something I *want*..."

Illya lifted his face, his eyes guarded as Solo went on.

"It would make me very happy if my best friend in the entire world---which I've seen---would have dinner with me tonight."

"That is not enough of a present..." Illya protested.

"It is worth more to me than my boat, my house and my car all rolled into one. And nothing else would please me more."

"I think you are pulling my chair..." Illya said with a crooked, half-smile. "But this I can do for you. Happy late birthday, Napoleon."

"It is now, Illya. Thank you!"