Illya Kuryakin had been woken up many different ways in his career as a UNCLE agent. There was the kick to the ribs, a standard, the cold bucket of water, always a favorite, and the ever popular slap to the face, not a favorite. This was the first time he was petted awake.

The strokes to his hair were gentle and light. Without changing position or his breathing, his fingers tightened around the butt of the P-38 under his pillow. Cautiously, he opened his eye and in the dim light of dawn, he could just make out the outline of his oldest granddaughter, Irina.

"Wake up, Sweet Prince," she murmured as she stroked her grandfather's hair. "You have soft hair, Poppy."

"Irina, what are you doing? Don't you know what time it is?" He released the gun and let out the breath he was holding.

She giggled. "I can't tell time, Poppy."

"But you can pick locks. I will never understand children."

"That because Mommy says you never was one."

"Were one," Illya corrected automatically.

"Were one what, Poppy?"

"Irina, go back to bed." Napoleon didn't mean to sound as gruff as he did, but they'd been up late last night putting together Easter baskets and hiding eggs, then recovering the eggs when it started raining, then re-hiding the eggs.

"Grampy, what are you doing in Poppy's bed?"

"Yes, pray tell, Napoleon." Illya smirked and flopped over onto his back, glancing over at his long-time partner. "What are you doing in my bed?"

"Besides not sleeping?" Napoleon muttered. "Um, I had a bad dream and couldn't get back to sleep," Napoleon answered quickly and Illya grunted as Irina climbed over his stomach and insinuated herself between them.

"Poppy's good at that. He's very brave. Has the Easter Bunny come yet, Grampy?"

"No, he's probably still trying to convince the chickens to wake up."

"He sure is takin' his time." She managed to pull up the covers over her and sighed. "I wish he was faster."

"Tell you what. Close your eyes and count kittens—"

"One, two, free…"

"To yourself, please," Illya murmured.

Napoleon arranged the sheet around her. "When you reach a thousand, the Easter Bunny will be here."

It started as a sniffle, then a soft gasping sob and then a full out wail. "What's wrong," Napoleon asked, flicking on the light. Illya was propped up on his elbows, his face concerned.

"I can't count that high!" she cried.

Illya chuckled and pulled the girl close. "Can you count to a hundred, Irina?"

"Uh huh. Anybody can."

"Then do that ten times and you'll be at a thousand."

"Really?" Irina knuckled one of her eye. "'Kay, but do they have to all be kittens? Cause that's a lot of kittens."

"Maybe even a caboodle." Napoleon kissed her forehead, snapped off the light and the three settled back down.

They watched the children racing across the brown grass. Spring was struggling to come this year and for his part, it couldn't come fast enough to suit Napoleon. He was ready to be through with winter clothes and snowbanks. He wanted flowers, birds and the sun, but mostly it was so nice to have a day off to spend with his family.

That made him smile. To think Napoleon Solo, man of the world, would be content watching his grandchildren was ironic and he would have argued against it. But that was years ago and this was now. And he had to admit that now felt pretty damn good.

Illya was relaxing on a lounge chair, his leg propped up. The warmer weather will be good for him, too, Napoleon thought. Illya never complained about his injury and never let it define him, but Napoleon could see the pinch of pain in the corners of his eyes when one of the grandchildren bumped him or Illya moved the wrong way.

"How are you doing, partner?" Napoleon handed him a cup of coffee and sat beside him. Napoleon's son, Leon, was happily leading the twins, too small to really know what was going on, by the hand from one discovery spot to another. Lisle, Illya's daughter, made sure their other two children found the eggs intended for them.

"Thank you." Illya accepted the cup and sipped. "I hope you like egg salad because I think we are going to have it every day for lunch this week." Illya winced as he straightened up a bit to set the cup down. "Napoleon, I was wondering if you would do me a favor. There is a box on the top of my dresser. Would you bring it to me? That many flights of stairs is a bit beyond me this morning."

The fact that he asked spoke volumes to Napoleon. "Sure. Save my seat."

"Always."

He returned a few minutes later, carrying a shoebox-size carton. "This one?" He sat back down.

"Yes, that's it." Illya checked the positions of their grandchildren and opened it up. "I asked my mother to send me an Easter treat for the children." He carefully lifted an ornately decorated egg from the protective wrapping. "For Irina, I asked for a pysanki egg decorated in pinks and golds." He cradled it for Napoleon to see.

"It's lovely, but so delicate."

"I think we can trust Irina to be careful with it." He set it aside in a nest of tissue paper and dug further into the box. "I got one for Alex as well." He held it up. Compared to Irina's, it was dull and colorless.

"What on Earth?"

"It's Kevlar, a new metal supposedly stronger than steel. I hope it will hold up."

"Are you two ready for the egg roll?" Leon ran up to his father and father in law, holding a wooden spoon in his hand.

Illya smiled wistfully. "While my hip is good, it's not that good. You go along, Napoleon, and I shall referee."

Leon offered a hand up to his father and the two men walked away, laughing and promising revenge on the other if caught cheating. Illya watched them, then used his cane to lever himself to his feet. It was good to have a family and to be part of something. He didn't know what he did to deserve it, but at this time in his life, he knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"Hey, no cheating, Dad!" Lisle's voice caught his attention and he grinned. She was neck and neck with Napoleon. Or would that be egg and egg? Illya laughed. It was very good, indeed.