Chapter Text
Waverly
“Ah yes, Agent Kuryakin, Agent Teller. Welcome back. I trust that everything went well? Excellent.” He pauses, and watches the two agents glance quickly around the entranceway he’s intercepted them at.
“Ah, yes,” he begins again. He would never admit to being nervous, but this is a conversation he has never had a desire to be part of, necessary as it is. “You were expecting to be met by Agent Solo upon your return. Well, you see, there has been a … complication, shall we say? Yes, a complication. Let’s discuss this further in my office.”
He pivots and turns down the hall, swiftly punching in his code on the security pad that grants access to the elevator that leads up to the executive offices. He enters his office and takes a seat, pausing long enough to determine that neither of the agents that followed him intend to sit before he continues.
“It appears that certain ...organizations… were less than forthright when drawing up contracts for - at the time - their agent. And, you see, well. I’m sure after all this time we were all aware of what Mr. - pardon - Agent Solo had planned.” He notices Teller’s eyes narrowing as Kuryakin’s jaw clenches, and hurries to continue, “He had also, mind you, planned to return. Two weeks holiday, he emphasized when placing his request. Time off, you see, certainly nothing vaguely resembling a resignation.”
“Alexander, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so…” A gesture towards the flustered man. The sharp smile on the petite form did not lessen the tension in the room at all.
“Well, Gaby, my dear -”
“Has Cowboy misplaced himself?” Kuryakin cuts him off sharply.
“Well, hm. In a manner of speaking.” Two sets of unimpressed eyebrows raised, almost in concert, and disconcertingly similar to the manner in which the man absent from the room would amicably use to call another’s bluff. The remaining two of the trio were decidedly not amicable. “It would perhaps be more accurate to say the C.I.A. has misplaced him.”
It was incredibly gratifying to point the anger in the room towards another country.
--- --- ---
Teller
The only surprising thing about the situation was that Solo hadn’t had a backup plan. Gaby heaves an internal sigh. We really should have known better.
She and Agent Kuryakin leave HQ quietly, though she can see the tension radiating off her present partner in the way his usual smooth observance of a street turns into furtive flickers of ice blue eyes from corner to corner, shadow to shadow. She puts her hand into the crook of his elbow. It is a comfortable act they have fallen into on several occasions now. Kuryakin pulls his shoulders back, relaxing slightly to take on the role of dutiful spouse like a second skin. He glances down and the amused tilt of his mouth with the slightly irked incline of his eyebrow indicates that he knows exactly what she is doing.
She grins back brightly. Men can be so prickly, it is good to be partnered with two who know precisely when they are being manipulated (though Kuryakin could certainly afford to learn to be less predictable in his responses.)
--- --- ---
It takes roughly two hours for the K.G.B. to contact their operative. Neither of them is surprised when the call comes in from the concierge, though she notes that he is flexing his fists in a way that still makes her anxious. She’s not sure if she should be more or less concerned when Kuryakin returns from the call and only destroys one small, albeit solid, table. She’s still slightly tense when he flops down on the chesterfield next to her.
“We go after Cowboy, yes.” He states it like a fact, or maybe like he’s sulking. It’s hard to tell with Kuryakin - Solo is much more obvious when he’s in a mood.
“Of course.” She replies, “Will Oleg continue to be a problem?” Kuryakin frowns in her direction, and she keeps her posture perfect while shifting in the armchair to face him.
“Nyet.” he says abruptly.
She raises an eyebrow pointedly, “I find that hard to believe.”
Kuryakin looks away before responding curtly again, “I resigned.”
She laughs - bright and clear and with only a hint of bitterness - as they begin to plan. They have a meeting with Waverly tomorrow after all, and preliminary plans must be done by then.
--- --- ---
Waverly
As much as he disliked the current circumstances, he really should not have been surprised to be in this position.
"Both of you are aware that as an officially sanctioned branch of the United Nations, the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement cannot condone retaliatory action. You will not be approved for leave, or receive any additional departmental support and resources. You will be relieved of Agent status, effective immediately. "In addition, as an ally of the C.I.A., U.N.C.L.E. is contractually obligated to report threats known to individuals and the agency as a whole."
"Da."
"Of course."
Their responses were almost demure - he’ll be entertained later, when he’s not so busy fuming at the stupidity of certain other organizations.
"Excellent. Then we are at an understanding. The moment you both leave the building, you are officially Absent Without Leave. In three months, you will officially be declared rogue; and eventually Missing Presumed Dead. I will report accordingly that you are acting of your own volition and your subsequent actions will have no reflection on this organization." Ms. Teller's grin was frighteningly sharp. He sighs, "Godspeed Mr. Kuryakin, Ms. Teller."
"It has been an honour Sir." Kuryakin somehow manages to convey an incredibly convincing amount of appreciation through his typical stoic expression as he rises, followed gracefully by his teammate.
As the fading remnants of his inaugural team leave his office, Waverly allows himself a tight but smug smile. It was going to be a delightful challenge to politically inform the C.I.A. of precisely how useless his obligatory warning was going to be in the face of the formidable duo that was two-thirds of the best team in the industry.
Oh, and he should also probably send a cursory message to the KGB to inform them that Kuryakin was unlikely to be reporting back to them anymore. From Kuryakin’s calm demeanor, they probably know already, but he finds himself wanting to twist that particular knife just a little. For now, he is going to take a moment to bask in sheer Schadenfreude.
Give them hell, Agents.