"12 Days and Counting~ PART ONE"~ for Day Eleven of the 12 Days of Christmas

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Napoleon Solo sauntered into his office, feeling pretty chipper. It was the first day of December and for some reason T.H.R.U.S.H. seemed to always lay off on their usual schemes and take a Christmas vacation for the month, he imagined after all, they had families too. That thought sent him into wondering what life with a man or woman from that nefarious group would be like?"

A little dialogue came to mind, making him chuckle. "Hi honey, how was your day today? Did you conquer the world yet? No? The big bad man from UNCLE ruined your plans again. Oh let mommy make you feel better... poor thing, don't cry."

He stopped dead in his tracks as the office doors opened, seeing a rather large potted plant...no a tree, sitting on top of his desk. As he walked over to it, he realized there was a bird sitting on one of the branches.

He stared at it, and the bird stared back at him, spreading its tail feathers and suddenly flapping its wings, making a low hollow thumping sound that increased with the speed of its wing movement.

"What the hell is this?" He turned to his partner who was sitting in silence, wearing his reading glasses as he looked over a report.

"Is it not obvious?" Illya peered over the top of his glasses, "It is a partridge in a pear tree, and from the actions of the bird, he is quite enamored of you as he just performed his mating ritual." The Russian tried not to smile.

Napoleon looked back at the tree and the bird, now noticing little pears tied to the branches.

"Is this some kind of joke Illya...did you do this?"

"I cannot tell a lie, it was not me. It was sitting on your desk when I came in this morning, quite early as a matter of fact.

"Oh great, a secret admirer," Napoleon scrunched up his face as the bird let go some droppings on his desk blotter. He reached to the bird, pointing his finger at it. "We'll have none of that if you please." The bird bit him.

Illya let out a little snicker.

"Owww, dammit, and stop laughing," Napoleon cursed, holding his finger. He flicked the switch to the intercom on his desk, calling the secretary.

"Eileen?"

"Good morning Napoleon."

"Do you know anything about this thing on my desk?”

"Oh the partridge in a pear tree. It was there when I came in...no card on it and I have no clue who dropped it off. I just figured it was a Christmas gift from an admirer."

"Oh... all right. Could you please get it out of here, I have some work to catch up on, and if you could bring me a new desk blotter? Thanks."

The offending gift was removed, all was right with the world and the partners worked on catching up on reports that were long overdue. That was a good thing about December, lots of catch up time...especially for Napoleon. He had a full dating schedule and was determine to see it through.

At noontime on December 2nd the partners left for the commissary but it became a longer lunch than expected as they were serving turkey with all the trimmings.  Illya was in his glory, going back for seconds and thirds.

Napoleon figured who was he to come between the Russian and his one and only indulgence, not counting explosives that is.

Illya never spoke of his childhood, much less his past in the Soviet Union, and Napoleon took a guess that his partner's appetite might be his way making up for lost time.

Illya seemed as uninterested in Christmas as he'd always been. Sure, they'd exchange gifts but he never seemed to get into the spirit of the holiday, but maybe that was just him. Illya Kuryakin was a man of few words in general, unless it involved a discussion on something that had caught his interest, then the conversation would transform into a long winded lecture of sorts. He was somewhat predictable at least in that respect.

They returned to their office after lunch, intending to finish up work early. Napoleon had a date, and Illya, well, he had no plans or so he said, again he was close-mouthed about those sort of things as well.

The door opened silently, and suddenly something flew in front of Napoleon's face, making him automatically draw his weapon, but it was the hand of his partner that stopped him.

"Look it is a bird...no two birds," Illya pointed out.

They watched as they alighted on a perch sitting atop Solo's desk.

"Don't tell me, two turtle doves," Napoleon grumbled.

He called the secretary asking who brought them in, and as before, she had no idea.

The offending creatures were removed and the blotter replaced, again.

"You may want to have another desk blotter handy my friend," Illya sniggered, "If the pattern of the song continues, you should expect three french hens. Hmmm, perhaps you might want to spread some newspaper on the floor."

"Knock it off wiseguy. I'm going to Security to get to the bottom of this. They'll have tapes of who ever has been dropping off these so-called gifts." Napoleon abandoned his partner, heading directly to the Security office, only to be disappointed.

"Gee I'm sorry Mr. Solo," the agent in charge told him. "The cameras are down for maintenance in that corridor."

"And when exactly do you plan for them to be up again," he tried to ask politely.

"To be honest we're not sure. We've been having some electrical difficulties and at this point we may have to strip the old wiring and install new ones. Right now we're checking all the circuits and wires and that has to be done in the evening as we can't block off the corridor during peak hours. There's a couple of other ones that are having he same problem. I think the whole system is really in need of an overhaul if you ask me, but then again I'm not an electrician."

"Thank you, " Napoleon replied curtly, leaving and returning to his office.

"Any luck?" Illya asked, without looking up, as his nose was buried in a scientific journal.

"Would you believe the cameras are down?"

"That is rather convenient, and suspicious as not everyone would be privy to that information. Perhaps your secret admirer is a member of Security?" Have you dated anyone from that Section recently?"

"No, I steer clear of Section V, the women there are a bit on the tough side for my taste. I wouldn't want to be roughed up by one of them...as I sort of like being in control, if you get my drift?" He smiled.

"Too much information Napoleon, it is bad enough I have to listen to your exploits, I do not need to know any more details on your sexual preferences, thank you."

Napoleon huffed at that response, and again set about working on his reports, but all the while racking his brain for anyone who could be doing this.

...TO BE CONTINUED