She slid a hand through her honey-brown hair, her eyes landed on the tiny cafe front. Just outside the establishment sat a table with five chairs around it, one currently occupied by a middle aged man she knew all too well.

With a soft sigh, Anna crossed her arms over her chest as if she were cold and approached the table. "Uncle," she uncrossed her arms and pulled out the chair to his left.

Her uncle peered up over the top of his glasses and offered a warm smile as she sat down. Words were not spoken, but there was no mistaking the look in his light eyes.

She felt a little guilty about the way she had reacted back in the warehouse. Anna knew her uncle had good intentions with bringing together the best. But he could have gone about it another way. Instead, he tricked her and like a complete idiot who trusted their family member, she fell for it.

"I'm s-" she was cut off by the arrival of another. Tall, strikingly handsome, with dark hair and incredibly breath-taking blue eyes. He pulled out the chair to her uncle's right and sat down, a seductive smile curving his lips.

Anna closed her mouth. Sitting back in the chair, she stared at the man across from her, the American man who went by the name of Napoleon Solo.

"Solo, I would like to introduced Anna Smith," Waverly began with an unsure smile. "Miss Smith, this is Mr. Napoleon Solo."

She kept her head face forward but her eyes were on her uncle, "Are introductions really necessary, Mr. Waverly?" she asked.

~•~

"Ah," his cheerful voice sounded, tearing her gaze away from the stack of files that laid in front of him. "Glad to see you are all here. Time to get down to business."

Turning her attention away from her uncle—who carried on with his chatter as he distributed  the files in front of him— she turned to her left to discover the tall blond-haired Russian had occupied the chair beside her. His bold move intrigued her, mostly because, back in the warehouse, he had been ready to attack her. Anna sat back, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes fixed solely on him.

"Anna," her uncle's voice pulled her attention away once again. "You and Kuryakin, here, are going to pose as a married couple. Illya-"

"What?"

Waverly closed his mouth and then reopened it only to close it again. His gaze lowered from her to the table as he struggled to find the right words to say without provoking her darker side.

"Well," he began. "You and Illya are going to pose as a married couple for the assignment."

She started to laugh, "You're joking," she said as she turned to look at the blond beside her and then back to her uncle. "Him? My husband? Unlikely, Napoleon is more my type."

"I'm flattered."

"Don't be." she turned back to her uncle. "How do you expect me to work with someone who looks like he can kill with just a look alone. Does he even know how to socialize?"

"I am right here."

She ignored him and continued on, "No. I simply refuse. I won't do it. First, you force me to join your stupid team, and now, now you're trying to partner me up with him? Unlikely."

"The feeling is mutual, Princess."

Anna's brows furrowed at his words and despite them, she actually fell silent which seemed to interest her uncle. Then he turned toward the other two who were seated to his right and continued, "Miss Teller, you and Mr. Solo will also be married for this mission."

An unusual sound came from Anna's left, along with a few droplets of warm brown liquid splashing onto her exposed thigh. She then recognized the weird sounds as choking as Illya slammed down his cup, sloshing the contents within it onto the wooden table. Amused, Anna patted his back and tried to hold back a laugh as she turned to look at her uncle.

"Pray, continue," she then said, suddenly feeling in a much better mood than before.

Waverly took a moment, his eyes still on Illya who was now red in the face and clearing his throat. Still smiling, Anna glanced back to the Russian to find his icy blue eyes fixed on Napoleon with the exact look that could kill.

"Also," the old man paused and lowered his gaze. Something deep within the pit of Anna's stomach told her that what he was about to say next, would not be good. "Anna, you and Gaby are also to pose as old best friends reuniting after years of losing contact."

This time, it was Napoleon who looked amused as he casually leaned back in his chair and looked from Anna to Gaby, both woman clearly red in the face and glaring at one another. "This shall be fun," he commented more to himself, but still loud enough for it not to go unnoticed by the others.

If he had believed Illya's lethal glares to be bad, Solo quickly learned Anna's were worse. It did not take much for his sharp mind to piece together exactly what Waverly was up to. Although, he was beginning to wonder if there was another motive altogether. Perhaps one that didn't resort in who would kill the other first.

"I'm curious," Anna suddenly said while she closed the file she had been examining, "Tell me, sir, what is the real mission at play here?"

"What do you mean? You four are to fly out to Russia in two days where you, Anna, will then become reacquainted with Miss Garcia, and work your way into getting all of you invited to that damn get together her husband hosts every year. We failed the last time in uncovering what they were doing, but this time we won't. I have my four best agents on the job."

"Well, yes, you failed miserably because you though a clueless teenager would be perfect for the job."

Waverly frowned but said nothing more on the subject. "Well," he wiped his mouth clean of tea, and stood up. "If there are no other questions, I am sure your folders should contain all you need to know. Remember, two days from now. Good day."

Anna watched her uncle slip into the back seat of an awaiting car before turning her attention to the beige folder in front of her. Picking up the folder, she then pushed back her seat and stood up.

"Leaving so soon?"

"Yes," she replied coldly. "I'd rather not have to endure this much longer than need be."

"Shame," Napoleon said when she was out of earshot. "I was just starting to like her."

"You like anything with two legs and a vagina!" Gaby retorted.

• • •

Author's Note: While rereading these chapters I realized I was spelling Gaby wrong. Fixed it to the best of my ability in chapter two. Believe I fixed it all here too. But while trying to fix that, I ended up rewriting a few lines.
This chapter was originally written in 2017.