As they used to say on Monty Python - and now for something completely different. This is dedicated to MLAW and should be taken as a cautionary tale about the relative wisdom of letting two folks with insomnia talk over odd story ideas.

For those wondering - no, I am not doing this as a satire. I plan to approach it as I do my usual A-Team and MFU fanfic. For those deciding to come along for the ride, I will attempt not to make it too bumpy (at least for the readers - the characters have to watch out for themselves).

One Thing Leads to Another

Part I - U.N.C.L.E. in L.A.

Napoleon dropped his bag on one of the hotel beds and glanced to the window. Los Angeles. Nice enough place, at least if you weren't there to locate a T.H.R.U.S.H. operation and put it out of business. Then his eyes caught sight of a calendar hanging on the wall. What kind of hotel would put a calendar in their rooms? He gave it a sour look.

"Less than six months left."

"One hundred and seventy-two days to be precise, tovarich."

The sour look was transferred from the calendar to the back of the blonde head belonging to his long-time partner. He was beginning to wonder about the best friend part. The sour look bled into his voice.

"Counting down the days until you're going to be rid of me, chum?"

The glance over his shoulder at Napoleon made Illya sigh. Ever since his last birthday, Napoleon had been growing more disgruntled by the day.

"Hardly. Do you really think I want to spend my own last months as a field agent breaking in a new partner and having to put up with hearing him slaughter the pronunciation of my name on a daily basis?"

"You claim that I still slaughter your name on a daily basis. What's the difference?"

"The difference is that after all of our years together, I have come to view the way you say it as a nickname. So from you, it has an endearing quality. With a stranger, I might be forced to strangle them."

"Oh, so now I'm endearing?"

"You must be or I surely would have shot you by now just to give you a reason for your constant ill-humor these days."

Napoleon gave a slight sigh and sank down to sit on the edge of the foot of his bed.

"I have rather been a bear, haven't I? Sorry, partner. Not like any of it is your fault."

"You should try speaking again with Mister Waverly. Or as an alternative, I could break into the personnel files and alter your records."

Illya took getting a laugh – even a short one – as a triumph and sat down at the end of his own bed, giving Napoleon that small half-smile that was the equivalent of back-flips from a more demonstrative person. When Napoleon just smiled back but didn't comment, Illya pressed on.

"I am serious and I do think I have a point, Napoleon. If we can be retired early due to physical condition, I do not see why our time could not be extended so long as we are still able to meet or exceed basic standards. In my own case, I know that my reflexes are not so fast as they were when I was in my twenties, but I like to believe my experiences have more than compensated. And I know that were I granted a choice, I would choose the skills I have gained over the speed of youth at any time."

Napoleon couldn't resist a tease.

"Even with lovemaking?"

"Especially with lovemaking. I have yet to meet the woman that judges such matters by the time on a stop-watch."

"Touché'. Point taken. And I agree, by the way."

"On which topic? We have covered more than one, my friend."

"Well, all of them actually, but the one I meant was regarding physical qualifications for the job."

"Ah. Excellent then. I will write up the proposal and give it to Mister Waverly."

"You?"

"Well of course me. At the rate you do paperwork, you would have been retired for over a year before you had the first draft of the proposal completed."

"Hardy-har-har."

Opening his suitcase, Napoleon pulled out his toiletries bag, then glanced back over to Illya.

"Illya? I was thinking about us grabbing something to eat. What do you say?"

"Sounds preferable to something grabbing us. Since you are uncharacteristically being the first to bring up food, I assume you already have something in mind."

"That easy to read, am I?"

"Napoleon, other than the Waverlys, I do not know any married couples that have been together as long as we have been partners. I have learned by this point to read between your lines. Which you are getting more of."

Napoleon tossed a comb at Illya that the Russian didn't even bother to swat away or duck.

"You aren't exactly getting younger yourself, you know."

"Just better, but that is beside the current topic, which is food. What is that you had in mind?"

"Remember my old friend Ercole? One of his sons has opened a place of his own out here. I thought we could try it out. See if he inherited his father's flair."

"Yes - I remember Ercole. Fine. Even if the son's food is only half as good as his father's, it will still be a cut above most others. Perhaps we will even make it to the dessert course before you abandon me until tomorrow."

"What makes you think I'd abandon you?"

"Any number of reasons. Blonde, brunette, redhead and even the occasional silver-haired one these days."

"Practicing for a new career as a comedian?"

"Who is joking? So - what time were you thinking that we would head to - what is the name of the restaurant?"

"Amintore's. Let's say seven? Did you have plans?"

"There are a few shops I wanted to visit before we get down to work tomorrow, but I will be finished with what I wish to do by that time. And how will you be spending your afternoon, Napoleon?"

"Honestly? I think I'll grab a nap. I never could sleep as well on a plane as you can."

"Do you have your gun?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Nothing. I think I will keep the remarks about you feeling your age to myself. though."

"Consider yourself lucky that I hate writing reports about 'accidental' firearm discharges in hotel rooms."