Work Text:
As U.N.C.L.E.’s number 2, section 2 entered the commissary, a newspaper under his arm, he was observed by four other section 2 gentlemen sitting close by. They whispered to each other as they watched the blond Russian avail himself of a cup of tea and sit alone at a table in the far corner.
Sitting at the table next to the man’s partner, Napoleon Solo, had just risen to say goodbye to his charming companion as she left to go back to her desk. As he sat back down to resume drinking his coffee, one of the men leaned over, nodding his head toward the blond said, “Solo, I dare you to go over there and give your partner a smack on the lips.”
Solo cocked an eyebrow at his fellow agent.
“Twenty-Five dollars?” The agent upped the dare.
Napoleon considered – was twenty-five dollars worth the pain and suffering he might endure?
“A piece,” another agent offered.
Nodding, Napoleon set down his cup and walked over to where his partner sat.
Not looking up from the newspaper he was reading, Illya Kuryakin asked, “What do you want, Napoleon?”
Napoleon leaned over, tongue in cheek and said quietly, “The four gentlemen at the table next to mine have dared me a hundred dollars to kiss you.”
Kuryakin glanced over the paper’s edge at the four men then turning a page of his newspaper. “What’s in it for me?”
“Half.”
After ten seconds consideration Kuryakin folded the newspaper, setting it on the table, then looked up at his partner and nodded.
Napoleon was taken by surprise and it was a full minute before using one finger, he brought his partner’s chin up to claim his lips in a thorough if less than passionate kiss.
When the kiss ended, Illya looked into his partner’s sultry brown eyes and remarked. “Is that the best you can do?” before reaching up to pull Napoleon’s head down for an openmouthed and decidedly more passionate kiss than his partner’s.
A stunned Napoleon, though you wouldn’t know it by the look of him, slowly sank down on the chair across from the Russian. “Where did you learn that?”
Back to perusing his paper Kuryakin said absently, “the Sorbonne.”
“Would you care to elaborate more on that over drinks?”
Kuryakin glanced up from his newspaper. “and dinner?”
“And dinner,” agreed his partner.
Refolding the paper, Kuryakin got up from the table.
“Now?”
With a shrug and an upraised eyebrow the Russian retorted, “There is no time like the present.”
Solo readily rose then put his hand on the small of Kuryakin’s back to guide him toward the door. They had only gone a few steps when Illya stopped and glanced back and down. Solo quickly removed his hand saying apologetically, “Sorry, force of habit.”
The two men continued to the door. Napoleon with one hand in his pocket, the better to avoid temptation, paused as something occurred to him. “Just a minute.” Heading over to the table where the four men sat gaping in astonishment at the two of them, Solo mentioned, “I believe that was one hundred dollars, gentlemen.”
Each man pulled out his wallet and passed the money over to the dark-haired agent. Counting the cash as he proceeded back to doorway, Solo passed half the money to his partner who pocketed his share. Before exiting the room the Russian turned back and with a wicked smile, batted his eyes and winked.