Chapter Text
Newly minted UNCLE Chief Enforcement Agent Napoleon Solo was still at the stage where he stopped at every reflective surface in UNCLE headquarters, New York to admire his new badge. His badge wasn't the only thing he admired, of course. In an agency full of secrets, it was no secret that Napoleon was a vain man, but nothing less was expected from an Alpha Top —especially one who had just become the youngest CEA in the history of UNCLE.
He absorbed the adoring gaze of the lovely young sub stationed outside Waverly's office, but before he had time to flirt she nodded him towards the door. Napoleon Solo hadn't gotten to his current position by keeping Tops like Master Alexander Waverly waiting, and so he swept in with no more than a wink and a fleeting grin. Perhaps he'd chat her up after the meeting, if there was time.
Napoleon knew it was going to be a new mission briefing, and he figured he might be working with one or more agents. As Chief Enforcement Officer he'd have bigger, more complicated missions to oversee, though he was also altogether content to work alone —as his name suggested. This, he saw upon entering the briefing room and stepping up to the great circular table, was not to be today, for there was another agent sitting at the table already... but it was not another field agent.
As was the case with most dangerous or demanding roles in the civilized world today, only Tops were given field agent positions in UNCLE. It was generally understood, and Napoleon didn't disagree, that subs simply didn't have the temperament for field work. Taking initiative and being self directing simply wasn't natural to their dynamic, regardless of what could be heard nowadays from various 'subs-lib' spokespersons. In the espionage business especially, there was a real danger that when tortured subs could too easily be swayed over to the other side. They were wired to respond to pain and pleasure in a certain way, no matter what their training or intentions.
This was the reason for Napoleon's surprise and confusion when he saw the blonde haired man, wearing a collar emblazoned with the hammer and sickle of the Soviet Union, sitting at the table opposite Master Waverly. He knew the man, of course. He was well known in the New York branch as the terror of the Science Section; the icey cold intellect known as Illya Kuryakin. Napoleon had attended some of his science briefings, and the man knew his business, without at doubt. This was a mission briefing, however, and Kuryakin was no field agent. What was he doing here?
"Have a seat, Mr Solo," Waverly prompted, recalling Napoleon to the fact that he'd been stalled in the doorway. "You've a lot of material to cover and it must be covered well if we're to avoid another cock-up like Abernathy and Chalmers' last fiasco."
Ah ha, Napoleon thought. So this was to be a follow up on the ultra-sonic projector business which the previously mentioned agents had bungled so badly last week. They'd been sent to collect a scientist who'd managed to communicate that he was keen to part company with his masters in THRUSH, and that he had the technical plans for a weapon he'd been working on for them as an inducement. Of course THRUSH wasn't going to let the man go without a fight, but Abernathy and Chalmers ought to have at least managed to come away with either the scientist or his plans. Instead the scientist had been killed and the plans destroyed, which the agents had tried to sell as 'half a loaf'. Waverly had not been convinced and both agents had paid for their incompetence with a half dozen lashes in the UNCLE punishment arena.
Waverly had been proven right (as usual) when it surfaced that THRUSH had been running a mirror lab in Yugoslavia where the scientist's work was being reproduced. They didn't have the plans or the scientist, but they did have a more than half completed prototype containing the most critical element —the hyper-cavitation module— which was simply too dangerous to leave in enemy hands. All this Napoleon had read in the post-mission report and Kuryakin was reiterating it now, with a few more technical details thrown in. So maybe he was just here to contribute to the briefing.
"The upshot of all this," Waverly preempted, "is that this particular module must be acquired intact, and to remove it from the mechanism in which it is reportedly installed, you will need a highly skilled technician. For this reason I am assigning Mr Kuryakin to assist you on this mission."
Napoleon drew a breath to object immediately, and then promptly bit his tongue. For one thing, he knew better than to object to any instruction of Waverly's, and for another he had no alternative solution. If there'd been a Top with the proper expertise, he or she would be sitting at this table now instead of Kuryakin. Still, if he was taking the man into the field he had a right to be appraised of his fitness.
"I understand the need for a technician, Sir," Napoleon said, "but before we get anywhere near the projector we're going to have to find the facility, break into it and find wherever THRUSH has stashed the thing. Is Agent Kuryakin going to be able to be of assistance in any other phase of the mission besides the removal of the module?"
Kuryakin did not react in the least to being talked over; that was a sub's lot, after all, but Waverly responded to Napoleon's question by nodding in the sub's direction.
"I would be a fully qualified KGB field agent," the Russian said, "were I of a different dynamic." He said it in such a matter of fact way that he could have been talking about circuits and hyper-cavitation still, rather than something which would raise dozens of question in any Top's mind. The Soviets were even more strict about dynamic roles than the US. Napoleon couldn't imagine how a sub could have gotten such extensive training, much less completed it.
Napoleon did secretly suspect Waverly of being a bit of a 'sub-libber' himself. Certainly when Napoleon had first begun his agent training here, seven years ago, few if any subs worked at UNCLE save in the secretarial pool. Now as much as thirty percent of the science and research staff were submissives and Napoleon had to admit, UNCLE was the better for it. No one was proposing training subs for field work here, however, and Napoleon couldn't imagine that they would.
All of that left a lot of questions about the circumstances of the blonde headed sub now sitting across the table from him, ice blue eyes confronting him directly, assessing and unafraid. Napoleon met that gaze as a challenge, thinking to assert his dominance from the start but Kuryakin would not blink.
"Perhaps you'd like to put each other through your paces, so to speak, on the range," Waverly suggested in that way he had which made it clear that it was not a suggestion at all. "Before the mission, I imagine it would be good for you to each get the measure of the other."
Both men broke their gazes simultaneously to look at Waverly and nod, and they stood as one, completely unintentionally. Was there something smugly satisfied in the old man's expression, Napoleon wondered as he and Kuryakin turned to go? Napoleon tried not to dwell on it as he and his new partner made their way to UNCLE's extensive training wing.
They passed around the back of the small indoor arena used for everything from administrative punishments to martial arts classes to occasional public exhibitions. A handful of Tops in white gis were practicing throws and falls as Napoleon and Kuryakin made their way across to the door that lead to the shooting ranges. Here they saw a number of subs —who, at UNCLE, were required to keep to a certain firearms proficiency— as well as Tops, taking shots at various targets at various ranges. Napoleon signed in and took two pair of ear protectors, handing one to Kuryakin.
"The range first or the course?" he asked.
"Might as well begin with the basics," the sub said, nodding toward a pair of open positions at the range. Napoleon prompted Kuryakin to go first, and then had to remind himself to keep his mouth closed as the sub picked out the center of every single target, moving and stationary. It dawned on Napoleon suddenly that he was looking at the mysterious 'IK' with whom he'd been battling for top shooting scores for a couple of years now. Tamping down his chagrin, Napoleon focused on his own targets and managed, to his great relief, to tie the Russian's score. Then they moved to the course.
The tacticians who designed UNCLE's shooting course were all, in Napoleon's opinion, either sadists or masochists. The course was never the same from week to week, and Napoleon swore they had actually been making it steadily and incrementally harder since he first qualified with a weapon at UNCLE. Today, however, he felt that even more was at stake than usual. He had to best this coolly arrogant sub, the Top in him asserted firmly.
Napoleon had never addressed the course in such a toppy state of mind before, but Kuryakin definitely brought it out in him. Now, as he stepped into the course, mind reacting with lightning speed to discriminate the friend and foe targets that might jump up from the floor, drop down from the ceiling, or loom in from any direction, the sense of calm control which came with Top-space only served to improve his performance. Napoleon finished the course with a sense of triumphant euphoria, and showed no surprise at all when he saw that he'd made his highest score ever —and set a record for the course.
Kuryakin only raised an eyebrow and stepped into the course as soon as it was ready for him. Napoleon watched him with admiration, for the sub moved with an almost poetic efficiency. Only once did Napoleon see him hesitate, holding his pistol on a 'friendly' target for a split second longer than he ought. Perhaps, Napoleon reflected, little girls clutching stuffed bears might be considered a potentially dangerous target in the Soviet Union; one never knew.
In the end, Kuryakin's score was only a little lower than Napoleon's, and higher than his previous score through this course. Napoleon did not feel quite as vindicated as he would have liked and proposed that they test each other's mettle on one more field.
Generally Tops and subs did not train together in hand-to-hand exercises, for obvious reasons, but it might be done if both Top and sub agreed to keep it 'professional'. It was Napoleon's opinion, however that most subs who promised not to react as a submissive in such encounters were fooling themselves. He did really want to take Kuryakin's measure in hand-to-hand, but he also wanted to make this point to his new partner. He might be smarter than Einstein; he might be a crack shot, but he was still a sub.
Kuryakin agreed to the match and, ever the gentleman, Napoleon let him chose the fighting style. He chose judo, which surprised Napoleon because nearly everyone at UNCLE knew this was his own area of expertise. Of course, Napoleon had no idea which martial art the Russian excelled in, and it might well have been judo for him as well. He would see, he supposed.
The previous group was just leaving the arena when Napoleon and Kuryakin exited the locker room, clad in fighting togs. Napoleon asked that the space be cleared —as no other activities were scheduled and he Kuryakin had agreed to a sparring match, not to appear in an exhibition. One of the departing trainees asked if he should hang the 'Scene' sign on the door but Napoleon shook his head. That's not what this was either and he saw that Kuryakin took note of this and nodded with approval.
Once in the ring, the two of them began tentatively, throwing a few light punches and trying a few brief grapples. Once again Napoleon had to admire the sub's form and physique, revealed more by the loosely fitting gi. Kuryakin's body was smallish and lithe, but his hands were broad and, as Napoleon quickly discovered, quite strong. He'd figured the sub would be a mainly defensive fighter, relying on his speed and agility, but Kuryakin showed an aggressive approach from the beginning which caught Napoleon unawares.
The first time he found himself working hard to free himself from one of the sub's grapples Napoleon felt the Top in him awaken with indignant fury. Napoleon had figured from the start that he would rely on his size and strength and surprise the sub with his speed, but now those tactics became more about dominating his partner than besting him. The difference was subtle, but both Napoleon and Kuryakin were well aware of it. In less than a minute they both felt the tenor of the match shift.
There was a part of Napoleon's brain that knew he should stop the match and, glancing at the sub, he saw a similar knowledge in the other man's eyes. Beyond that, however, he also saw a similar desire. Neither of them wanted to stop. So maybe he should have let them hang out the 'Scene' sign, but it was too late to do anything about it now. Napoleon's blood was up and so, it seemed, was Kuryakin's. Now they fell upon each other with both mind and dynamic fully engaged and Napoleon's toppy soul sang with savage glee.
A flurry of kicks and punches were thrown and blocked with lightning speed and then suddenly Napoleon felt his legs swept out from under him. He deflected his sense of surprise as he would a punch and unleashed his strength to surge up at Kuryakin from below, tackling him and pulling him down onto the mat. The sub went down as he'd planned, but slithered out of Napoleon's grasp like a fish. Napoleon laughed with exhilaration —the first sound either of them had made beside soft grunts and exhalations. He'd never in his life encountered a sub like this and dominating him eventually was going to be the best toppy high of Napoleon's life.
Kuryakin's answering grin was savage and almost mocking but Napoleon Solo, even in his toppiest Top-space was not to be so provoked. Instead, his mind was playing out his and Kuryakin's potential moves like a high speed chess match and he had no doubt the sub was doing the same. There was a pause as each drew themselves into a crouch, then Napoleon lunged again, provoking his partner into a counter attack. He then he surprised the sub by switching to the purely defensive.
This had the desired effect of forcing Kuryakin to abandon his planned strategies. Napoleon could tell when the man was reduced to mere improvising. That was when Napoleon struck, tackling the sub as if to mount him and pin him, but then shifting his grip even as Kuryakin was beginning to free himself. With speed that surprised even himself, Napoleon flipped them both of them onto their backs and suddenly the sub was not pinned but held securely in a choke hold.
For all of a second and a half the sub in his arms held himself tense, as if to struggle further, but then he relaxed... and then relaxed further, and Napoleon knew he had him. They were not sparring partners now, but Dom and sub, both succumbing to their natural dynamic completely. They were both more than slightly hard too, but that was a line Napoleon was not going to cross (no matter that he really would have liked to). Instead, they both lay breathing heavily, on their backs with Kuryakin half on top of Napoleon, Napoleon's arm locked around his neck.
"I suppose," Kuryakin eventually said in a strained voice, "this is where I say, 'Uncle'?"
"That is the tradition around here," Napoleon answered affably.
"Very well," the Russian said with a resigned sigh. "'Uncle' it is." Napoleon responded immediately, releasing his grasp and rolling free. The two of them helped each other to their feet with careful civility.
"Good match," Napoleon said, turning their hand clasp into a congratulatory handshake.
"Likewise," Kuryakin responded as they moved off the mats and headed towards the showers they both wanted. Napoleon's was going to be icy cold, that was for certain, and he suspected that his partner would be following suit. Already Napoleon was beginning to have doubts about the wisdom of what they'd just done. They were going to have to work a mission together and he'd allowed the natural tension between the two of them to increase considerably.
The Top in him was entirely satisfied with the outcome, and made the case that they would work better together now that the sub had been 'put in his place', but the more civilized and analytical part of Napoleon was not at all convinced that the lesson would stick in Kuryakin's case. They would do far better on the mission, this part of him was sure, if they functioned as agent and agent, rather than as Top and sub. Well, they had five days before they departed, and they'd need to spend much of that time working together, strategising and doing research for the mission. That would be a perfect opportunity to build a more professional relationship.
It seemed that Kuryakin had come to a similar conclusion, because professional was exactly how things were from then on in. The Russian was a diligent worker with excellent attention to detail, and he was also a fine strategist. Though they both had different strengths, their minds worked shockingly alike when it came to making plans. Napoleon decided that he would very much like to see how the man played chess, but that for now it might well end up being too much like their sparring match. Perhaps he would suggest a game after their mission.
As CEA, Napoleon was entitled to examine the personnel files of all UNCLE employees (except for Waverly), and so he didn't consider it inappropriate at all to have a look at Kuryakin's. Of course, if Waverly hadn't disputed Kuryakin's claim that he was, theoretically, a fully qualified KGB field agent, then Napoleon knew that this had to be more or less true, but how that could be true remained a mystery which he hoped Kuryakin's records would clear up. In that, however, he was only disappointed.
Illya Kuryakin's file had records both from UNCLE (in English) and from the Soviet Union (in Cyrillic Russian). Napoleon was able to read Cyrillic and Russian well enough to suss out the basics, including the fact that there was a considerable gap between the time he served as a naval officer and the time he was listed as a science advisor for the KGB, about three years before he joined UNCLE. According to his UNCLE records Kuryakin was serving as a KGB field agent during that time, but without a single detail as to how many and what sort of missions he'd undertaken. The only thing written in his Russian documents for that period was the comment: "Record expunged". No reason why was given.
Besides being awarded the level of Master in chess, Kuryakin's records also showed him to be an expert level marksman and as having won medals in swimming and gymnastics. These latter awards were noted as having been revoked, however, again with no explanation given. Clearly Kuryakin had gotten crosswise of someone in the Soviet hierarchy at some point, but Napoleon doubted that the sub would be open to questions about it. Aside from the occasional anecdote from his past which pertained directly to their current mission, Kuryakin had spoken of his personal life and history not at all, and Napoleon had felt obliged to follow his lead.
It wasn't as if he was going to be able to pursue him as a sub in any case, Napoleon reminded himself. All unattached subs in the Soviet military and other uniform services were wards of the state (hence the hammer and sickle on the man's collar) and even to arrange a single play session, Napoleon would be required to contact the nearest consulate for permission. Given that fact the man had to be essentially celibate, unless he was sneaking off to the sort of disreputable clubs which allowed collared subs to play without their Top's permission.
Kuryakin's collar was not permanent (such things had been outlawed by the Geneva Conventions), but it was sealed. If he removed it the seal would be visibly broken and the consequences for him or the Top who broke it could be severe. Such arrangements were legal in most of the west, as well as the US and Canada, but Napoleon thought this to be nothing more than an open declaration of a lack of trust between Top and sub. Then again, Napoleon found the very idea of state appropriation of subs disturbingly wrong. To him, a collar should be a mark of a consensual relationship between individuals, whose first principle must be trust. What trust could exist between a soulless, authoritarian state and a man? It was perversion of everything a dynamic relationship should be.
And yet millions of people these days lived under such strictures, including his current partner. Of all the personal and inappropriate questions Napoleon wanted to ask the man, how he and his fellow Soviet citizens endured such things was the first. None of this was relevant to the mission, however, and Napoleon reminded himself of that fact far too often as their departure grew near. He knew better, however, than to be worried that he would be distracted during the mission —Napoleon was much too much of a professional for that to happen— and he had no doubts about Kuryakin's reliability either, in spite of his mysterious background.
Napoleon had a well developed sixth sense about who he could and could not trust, and there was no question in his mind about Kuryakin. This impression was informed by what he'd seen on the range and experienced in the sparring ring as well as what he'd read in the man's record, but the final verdict was rendered by that internal sense which had never yet steered him wrong. A week ago if someone had asked him how he would feel about going into the field with a sub as his partner, Napoleon would have expressed severe doubts, but no doubts whatsoever plagued him as he and Kuryakin boarded their plane for Vienna at the outset of their mission.
They passed the lengthy flight sleeping and studying a few mission details, and Napoleon broke the tedium from time to time, flirting with the most attractive of the stewards. From Vienna they traveled by train to Maribor, just the other side of the Yugoslav border and there they had a room reserved in a local hiker's hostel. It was between seasons —too cold and rainy for camping but not yet snowy enough for skiing— so they had the place more or less to themselves. Perhaps that was what prompted Kuryakin to raise, for the first time, a slightly personal question.
He'd picked up some sort of technical journal (in French) at the airport and was reading it as Napoleon returned to their room after having completed his evening ablutions in the bathroom down the hall. He looked up from his reading as Napoleon came in, watched him putter about the room briefly then, as he was climbing into bed, raised his question.
"What is your opinion, agent Solo, on the topic of switches?" he asked.
Napoleon frowned and made a thoughtful sound as he tried to come up with an honest but non-controversial answer. "I've heard it said that switches are about as real as unicorns and the Easter Bunny, and I've also heard that anyone claiming to be one must be suffering from some sort of neurosis or delusion, but I imagine that the truth is probably somewhat more complicated."
"So you've never met anyone who claimed to be a switch?" Kuryakin asked.
"Can't say as I have,"Napoleon replied. "Which isn't to say that I might not know someone who feels that they are a switch, but haven't said as much."
"Probably you do," the sub said matter of factly. "I just happened to be reading here about an American doctor —working in Indiana, I believe— who has put out a new theory that, rather than falling into separate categories, people's dynamics fall on a spectrum, from the most Alpha Tops at one end to the most submissive subs at the other. A few people fall on the extremes, most find themselves closer to one end or the other, and a few may fall right in the middle. According to this fellow, anyway. Naturally, he can't get his research published in the US."
"I'm not surprised," Napoleon said, because it did rather fly in the face of the established order of things. "Are you going to stay up reading much longer?"
"No," his partner replied. "I've finished the article. I do find the idea quite interesting, however. Imagine what it would mean if it were true?"
"Hmm," said Napoleon noncommittally, settling in and turning off his bedside lamp. He wanted it to mean nothing, but he could not help his thoughts turning to those few, odd things he felt compelled to do, from time to time. Things he never spoke of, like how he sometimes asked a sub to ride him while he reached above his head to grasp the bars on the bed, as though he were bound there. And how he kept a pair of nipple clamps —hard ones— that he wore himself sometimes, alone, on nights when he fell under a certain mood.
The sharp pain, the restraint he felt when he did those things felt oddly freeing, and yet filled him, at the same time, with a deep sense of shame. He could not imagine speaking of it with anyone else, and wondered what Kuryakin had meant by raising the subject. Maybe it was just because of the journal article, but Napoleon felt sure that there was something else behind it. Regardless, these were not thoughts conducive to getting a good night's sleep, so he shut them off —a trick he'd learned as a soldier, long before he'd become a spy— shut his eyes and slept.
~*~