Rating and notes: 15. This is the sequel of The Mistletoe Affair. This story will explore my version of the Solo family, and I'll do the same for Illya in another story.

Pairing: Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo

Summary: Napoleon has a mother who's not as innocent as he thought.

Disclaimer: I'm just playing with other people's toys. May I be forgiven in my next incarnation! Flamers and thieves will be adopted by my blood relatives (if you don't believe it's a threat... too bad for you!).

Editor: Mikee. The remaining mistakes are all mine, and I apologize for those.

.

The Italian Mother Affair

.

Napoleon Solo was a good son. When he wasn't working on Sundays, he phoned his mother to make sure that she was fine; and when he knew that he wouldn't be able to phone, he warned her beforehand.

Mrs. Solo was very proud of her children; Napoleon and Gloria were the apples of her eyes. She loved them equally, but Audrey Solo was the daughter of an Italian matriarch, and that tiny piece of information made a world of a difference. Napoleon Solo was about to discover it.

Napoleon was still flabbergasted that Illya had kissed him under the mistletoe that Clara, Napoleon's youngest niece, had insisted on suspending from his dining-room chandelier.

Since that first kiss, Illya had been a perfect gentleman - a perfect gentleman who was paving the road to start dating his partner. Napoleon wasn't used to gentle attentions, but he had to admit that he was enjoying Illya's courtship.

Napoleon didn't know what to expect exactly, but he trusted Illya, and that made his Russian partner the happiest man on earth.

The two agents celebrated Russian Christmas and Napoleon's birthday together. As promised a few days earlier, Napoleon had another gift for his friend, and Illya had a big present for Napoleon - for his birthday and Russian Christmas.

Illya had cooked for them, and they'd had a quiet dinner in Illya's apartment. Illya was charming and patient; he was taking his time to seduce Napoleon.

Illya knew that he needed to go slow in order to not frighten his potential boyfriend - and hopefully lifelong companion. Napoleon could love him and learn to make love to him, but just not overnight. Illya knew a lot of things about Napoleon, and he was more than ready to wait.

Things were relatively quiet at work, but Solo and Kuryakin's private lives were about to change drastically.

It was a couple of weeks after Napoleon's birthday and a few weeks before the two agents would have a Saturday off to go to Tavia Sandor's wedding. It was a Thursday, and there was a smile in Mr. Waverly's voice when he called Napoleon to his office.

Napoleon told his boss that he'd be right there, and he gave Illya, in whose lab he was, a puzzled look.

"What do you think he wants?" Napoleon asked his friend.

"Your guess is as good as mine, my friend," Illya said warmly.

"Well, thank you, dear friend," Napoleon said.

They both knew that they'd never demonstrate their mutual affection in public - and certainly not at U.N.C.L.E Headquarters - but they'd begun to be friendlier so that their colleagues wouldn't be surprised when they spent more and more time together off duty.

"I'd better go see what's making him so happy. It could be bad news for us," Napoleon said.

Before leaving, Napoleon turned around and smiled at his friend, who smiled back.

One of Illya's colleagues turned towards him and said, "I hope we won't be interrupted. I need your help on this."

"Cross your fingers, my dear," Illya answered warmly.

His colleague gave him a small smile and focused on his work again.

Napoleon hurried to Mr. Waverly's office; the door opened, and he froze on the threshold - Audrey Solo was sitting in front of Napoleon's boss.

"Mother!" Napoleon exclaimed as he swiftly walked to his mother's side. "Is anything wrong?"

"I was bored at home and decided to come to New York for a few days of shopping. I went to have lunch in that little restaurant where you took me last time, and I met your Mr. Waverly. We had lunch together, and he suggested I come and say hello," she said.

Napoleon leaned to kiss his mother's cheek. She came to New York two or three times a year for shopping expeditions, and therefore Napoleon wasn't too surprised that she was in town, but seeing his mother in Headquarters was strange.

Audrey Solo was still young - she'd recently turned fifty-three - but her hair was already silvery white. She categorically refused to do anything about it, and, truth be told, her husband liked it. Her hair color brought out her blue eyes, and she usually said that her blond hair had been so light that its turning white wasn't such a big difference. Audrey's children had inherited her husband's brown hair and hazel eyes.

There was so much love in his mother's eyes that the spy in Napoleon retreated. His mother couldn't have some hidden agenda.

"Is father home?" Napoleon inquired.

"He's in Shanghai, working on some deal with your grandfather's help," she answered. "His father, not mine."

Napoleon chuckled; he could imagine his ex-ambassador grandfather having some connections in Shanghai, while his ex-admiral granddad had had his share of adventures all around the globe, and he now stayed quietly at home.

His grandparents were still alive and active, and his parents were young. Napoleon's father would start considering retirement in about ten years - at best. If Napoleon had inherited their good genes, he could certainly replace Mr. Waverly and have a career as long as his boss.

Napoleon smiled at his mother and didn't even stop to consider that she might have some devious plans.

"Perhaps we could have dinner together tonight," Audrey said.

Napoleon had plans with Illya tonight, but his mother was seldom in town, and Illya would understand.

Audrey noticed her son's slight hesitation, and that confirmed her suspicions.

"Of course, Mother. Where would you like to go?" Napoleon asked.

"I'll take care of the reservations. I'll pick you up at your place at seven," she said.

Napoleon nodded.

"Well, the shops are calling me," Audrey said as she stood up. "My dear Mr. Waverly, it was a delight to have had lunch with you. Will you walk me to the atrium, Napoleon?"

Her son nodded, and Mr. Waverly walked to her and kissed her hand.

Audrey left Mr. Waverly's office with her son.

"Are you all right?" she asked him.

"Yes, Mother," he answered.

She stopped right in the middle of the corridor and looked at her son. Then she started walking again.

"Mother?" he asked, as he obediently followed her.

"You told me the truth," she said.

"I always tell you the truth," Napoleon said.

She smiled at him lovingly. She squeezed his arm, and he patted her hand.

"Do you have a minute, Napoleon?"

He turned towards his partner, who was on his lab's threshold.

"In a moment, Illya," Napoleon said.

Illya noticed his partner's mother behind him and exclaimed, "Good gracious! I apologize, Mrs. Solo. I didn't see you behind your colossal son."

"Always the charmer, Mr. Kuryakin," Audrey said as she shook hands with Illya.

"More like an agent with poor eyesight," Napoleon teased Illya.

Just because they were considering a relationship, that didn't mean that Napoleon would stop teasing his friend.

"Easy, boys!" Audrey said with a merry chuckle.

"I'll escort Mother back to Del Floria's, and I'll come help you. All right, Illya?" Napoleon asked.

"Of course, Napoleon," Illya said softly. "Mrs. Solo, it was a pleasure to see you."

She nodded at her son's partner, and she walked with Napoleon to the atrium, where she handed her badge to a beautiful blonde agent.

Mrs. Solo kissed her son's cheek and said, "Don't be late tonight."

"Of course not, Mother," he said.

He opened the door, and she left Headquarters. There was a little something bothering Napoleon, but since it was about his mother, he simply refused to dig deeper.

Napoleon went back to Illya's lab, and that was it.

Mrs. Solo was about to exit the shop when she turned to Del Floria.

"May I use your phone, Mr. Del Floria?" she asked.

"Of course, Mrs. Solo," he answered.

She made reservations for eight o'clock and hung up the phone.

"Grazzie," she told Del Floria.

"No hay de qué, Señora Solo," he answered.

They smiled at each other, and she left. After meeting Mr. Waverly, accidentally on purpose, she'd trapped him into helping her; now she needed to analyze her son's reactions. She had just a few hours before dinner.

She decided to walk down to Bryant Park. It was a beautiful day, if a bit crisp; it was the kind of day that reminded Audrey of Montreal and Turin, and she was in her element.

Lost in her thoughts, she entered the Public Library. She'd just walked through the doors when she realized what had been bothering her; Napoleon had reacted to her invitation as if he'd have to cancel a date, and he hadn't given a single look to any of the gorgeous young women working at Headquarters. She clearly remembered that her son had admired his female colleagues during her last visit, but not this time.

Audrey had come to New York as soon as her husband was out of town. She'd come because of something that her youngest grandchild had said over the phone.

Audrey knew how Gloria, Jane, Sarah and Clara had decorated Napoleon's apartment, the place he'd inherited from Audrey's eldest sister. Last week, Clara had told her grandmother that Uncle Napoleon had thanked her for the mistletoe. Of course, Clara asked if he'd used it, and Napoleon had whispered 'yes' in her ear; Clara shared the secret with Audrey.

If Napoleon was finally healing, Audrey wanted to know.

Clara's clue was one piece of the puzzle, but if Napoleon no longer looked at the skirts around him at work, perhaps it meant that the one he'd kissed under the mistletoe was to become Audrey's next daughter-in-law. If the girl made her Napoleon happy, she'd welcome her with all her heart.

Audrey turned around and went shopping.

At seven, she walked into her son's building. The concierge was about to call Napoleon, but since he knew that his mother would be right on time, Napoleon exited the elevator right then.

"Would you like to leave your bags here, Mother?" Napoleon asked.

She was planning to take him to a restaurant near her hotel, but her instincts told her that she had to go up to her son's apartment first.

"Thank you!" she said joyfully.

"I can take them up if you don't want to be late for dinner," the concierge said.

"We have time," Audrey said.

"Um... My mother wants to see my lair," Napoleon stated.

She glared at her son, but his beautiful smile made her chuckle.

"Of course I want to see your place. It must have changed since last time," she said.

Napoleon offered her his arm, and they walked to the elevator.

"Of course, it's changed. The last time you came, I was still living out of boxes," he joked.

Audrey looked around her son's apartment, but she didn't detect the signs she was looking for. Her son had used the mistletoe, but the lady hadn't moved in yet. She hoped it meant that her son was serious about that one.

"All right, let's catch a cab," she declared after a quick tour.

"What?!" Napoleon mock-exclaimed. "No inspection from floor to ceiling. I'm disappointed, Mother."

"Dearest, our table won't wait forever, and traffic can be a nightmare. Besides, I'll have to come back to get my bags, won't I?" she said.

"I should have known you'd have some plan," he said with a chuckle.

They went back down, and they caught a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"The Tavern on the green," she answered. "Take the 6th Avenue if the 8th is jammed."

"Hey, I know my job, little lady," the driver said.

Before Napoleon could even think of anything to do to the driver, his mother was looking straight at the man in the mirror and giving him sharp instructions in Italian.

"Si, va bene," the driver answered meekly.

The cabbie drove fast and efficiently. In fact, he knew women like Mrs. Solo, and the sooner she was out of his taxi, the sooner he'd be safe. Her idioms had told him that she was from Piedmont, and a man from Sicily, like himself, was never sure that he'd get the upper hand with such a woman - in a talk or in a fight.

Mrs. Solo and her son were early, but they were lucky, and their table was ready.

They ordered dinner and enjoyed each other's company. She brought him up to date on what happened to her and his dad, and he told her a few wild work stories - the ones that he could share.

Audrey noticed two things. First, Napoleon was serene, and that alone told her that her son was in love - or falling in love - and second he sounded quite fond of his colleague. In Napoleon's line of work, it was often vital to get along well with one's partner.

Dessert arrived, and Audrey knew that it was time to ask the question.

"Darling?" she said.

"Mother?" he answered, never spotting the signs.

"Is there someone special in your life?" she inquired.

Napoleon paled so much that she really thought that her son would pass out because of a simple question.

He took a few deep breaths, looked around to make sure that he hadn't made a fool of himself in public, and lied, "No, Mother."

"I know about the mistletoe," she said.

"I lied. I didn't want to break Clara's heart," he lied.

"Napoleone de'Baldi, don't you dare lie to me," she hissed quietly.

Napoleon flinched. When she used his Piedmont name, he knew that it wasn't good.

Not many people knew that the great Napoleon Solo was caught between two worlds; on the one hand, there was his father's world, and on the other, there was the Piedmont matriarchal line that his great-grandmother had imported to the New World in the nineteenth century.

In that other - secret - world, he was his mother's son, obedient to all women in the family.

In that world, he was Napoleone de'Baldi, which was the name the women passed down generation to generation. Since his namesake had invaded the Italian peninsula and had left his legal Code there, there was no longer anything official in it, but the tradition was still alive... very much alive.

"Santa Madonna, Napoleon! Tell me who the woman is," she ordered in a frightening whisper.

That demand was his only way out, but it was a dreadfully dangerous gamble.

"Mother, I swear that there's no woman in my life," Napoleon said.

Audrey looked at her son and knew that he was telling her the truth.

They ate dessert in silence for a few seconds.

Napoleon was praying that his mother would drop the topic.

Audrey was analyzing the clues: a kiss under the mistletoe, her son in love, no woman...

"Napoleon! Do you think that my mother and her own mother didn't teach me well?" she asked rhetorically. She slapped his hand when he attempted to say something. "Tomorrow evening, I want you to come and have dinner with your cousin and me. I want to meet your cousin."

"I don't have any cousin in town!" Napoleon exclaimed, lost.

"You have one," she hissed in a whisper. "The one who was under the mistletoe!"

"That's not a cousin!" Napoleon protested, not even realizing that he was admitting that there was someone.

"A cousin, just like Cousin Liz, who shared your Aunt Amy's apartment," Audrey said.

Napoleon blinked; he'd never realized that his Aunt Amy had been in a relationship with Cousin Liz.

Suddenly, Audrey was on the verge of tears.

"Mamma?" Napoleon said worriedly.

"If you didn't know that, it means that you probably never realized that Liz died of grief," she said.

"I was still mourning myself, Mamma," he murmured. "And I was abroad."

"I tried to help, but Liz just collapsed. They'd been together all their lives; born on the same day, on the same block, and they grew up together. They'd always been together," Audrey said, on the verge of tears.

"Why Cousin Liz? I really thought she was somehow related to us," Napoleon said.

"This is what we do back home. When someone like that joins the family, that person becomes a cousin; everybody knows what it means, but appearances are saved," she explained. "Liz was family. Mother welcomed her, and when George, my elder brother, got married and had a daughter, Mamma was satisfied that her line would go on. I have Gloria, and she gave me three heiresses."

Napoleon nodded; he was slowly taking everything in.

"Mamma?"

She smiled, knowing what was bothering him. "Darling, if your father says anything rash about your cousin, I'll get my rolling-pin to crack his skull open, and then I'll remind him of a few secrets he's told me about his days in college," she said.

Napoleon knew that his mother was being literal.

"So, tomorrow, Friday night, your place. I'll cook, and you'll bring me your cousin. That's an order," she said.

"Mamma, there no cousin link yet," Napoleon said softly.

"My baby, you're in love, I can tell as much. Bring me your cousin, and I'll show him that entering the family is a great idea," she said.

Blushing bright red, Napoleon said, "My potential cousin doesn't need any convincing."

Audrey realized that her son was the one who was switching teams, and he'd got to feel lost.

Audrey took her son's hands in hers and asked, "Do you want a cousin?"

Napoleon looked at his lap.

"Do you want that cousin?" she asked gently.

"It'd be nice to have someone," Napoleon admitted.

"Of course, but do you want him in the family?" she inquired bluntly.

Napoleon squeezed his mother's hands and said, "I'm completely lost, Mamma, but... yes."

"Good. When do you leave for work in the morning?" she asked.

"Half past eight," he said.

"Perfect, I'll come to your place then, and I'll start preparing dinner. Does your cousin like Italian food?" she asked.

Napoleon grinned as he said, "He likes food. Period."

During lunch, Mr. Waverly had mentioned Illya's sin of gluttony, and Audrey put two and two together.

"I love him already," she said.

Napoleon smiled, but then he frowned.

"Napoleone?"

"I don't know if my cousin is free to come tomorrow night," he explained.

"You'll find him ready to change his plans if need be. He's going to be scared to death, but he'll come," she declared confidently.

She insisted on paying the bill, and once outside, Napoleon had to insist she take a taxi back to her hotel. The Pierre might be across Central Park, and up 'just' a few blocks, but Napoleon refused to see her take any risks.

Napoleon took a taxi, too, and when he reached his place, he phoned the concierge at the Pierre Hotel. When he was sure that his mother was safe in her room, he picked up the phone and called his cousin Illya.

"What's wrong?" Illya inquired.

"Nothing," Napoleon said.

"That's a lie," Illya said with a joyful chuckle.

"May I come see you?" he asked.

A few minutes later, Napoleon was in Illya's apartment. Napoleon told his friend everything about his mother's family, what he'd discovered about Aunt Amy, and he finished with the dinner invitation.

"Do you know how lucky you are to have such a mother?" Illya asked.

Napoleon nodded.

"My dear Napoleon, a dinner with your mother doesn't mean that we'll have to jump in bed together right after dessert," Illya pointed out. "However, her acceptance might help you."

Illya, who'd given his friend some space while he said what he had to say, went to sit next to him on his right side. Illya held out his left hand, and Napoleon didn't hesitate to lace the fingers of his right hand with his friend's.

"I'm ready to meet your mother," Illya declared.

"She's a true matriarch, Illya," Napoleon insisted.

"Napoleon... I'd go to hell and back for you. Meeting your mother is a dream come true," he said.

Napoleon tightened his hold on Illya's hand and put his head on his shoulder. Illya maneuvered them so that he could hold Napoleon, and he quite possessively wrapped his arms around his future boyfriend.

"Illya?"

"Yes, dearest?" Illya asked lovingly.

"How would your parents have reacted to... us?" Napoleon inquired.

"My mother would have been in complete denial; she never saw a thing with Nicolai. I think my father would have shot me," Illya answered.

"I'm sorry," Napoleon said.

Illya started to count. He was reaching eleven when Napoleon asked, "Who's Nicolai?"

Illya kissed Napoleon's temple and promised, "I'll tell you all about him when you're ready to start dating."

Napoleon tried to pout to get the answer, but it was to no avail.

Illya sent Napoleon to bed. The next day would be a long, long day.

Friday was a long day, but THRUSH had the decency to not interfere with Mrs. Solo's plans - mind you that might have brought the end of the organization by her own hand. She'd spent the day shopping and cooking traditional dishes that took a rather long time to make.

When Napoleon knocked on his own door, Audrey had only one last thing to do to be really ready. She opened the door and was surprised to see only her son.

"Where's your cousin?" she demanded.

"In his apartment downstairs, Mother. He said he had something he wanted to bring," Napoleon said.

"Quite the charmer that young man. He had flowers delivered for me here in the afternoon. Vase included," Audrey said, pointing to a nice composition that she'd placed on the dining table.

"He's good," Napoleon said fondly.

Audrey saw the fireworks of love in her son's eyes, and she was ready to hug the one who'd brought love - real love - back into his life.

Illya knocked on the door.

"He's got my key," Napoleon whispered.

"He's a guest tonight," Audrey pointed out as she walked to the door. She opened it and said, "Good evening, Mr. Kuryakin."

Napoleon was rendered speechless that his mother knew that it was Illya who'd stolen his heart, but Illya wasn't surprised at all.

"Thank you for your invitation, Mrs. Solo," he said warmly.

She closed the door behind him.

Napoleon saw the five roses - white, pink, red, yellow and red-and-white - in a small crystal vase. "More flowers?" he inquired.

"These are for you, Napoleon," Illya and Audrey said in perfect harmony.

They looked at each other and laughed heartily.

Illya gave his near-boyfriend the vase, while Audrey commented, "Perfect choice."

"Red roses, I know, but the others?" Napoleon asked.

"I'm not spoiling the surprise," Audrey said.

"I'm not telling," Illya added.

Napoleon glared, or he tried to; he was deeply moved by the gentle attention.

"All right, boys, I have a few nuts to crack for the sauce, and then I'll be ready to serve the first course. Go sit and have a drink," she said.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Illya asked.

Audrey looked at her son and said, "Pour the drinks; I'll kidnap Mr. Kuryakin for a few minutes."

Illya followed her and said, "Please, call me Illya."

"Only if I'm Aunt Audrey," she said. "If things evolve between you two and you come visit us, just say you're Cousin Illya on Amy's side. People will either understand, or they'll truly believe there's a link."

"Si, Signora de'Baldi," Illya said obediently.

She finished preparing the sauce for her homemade ravioli. Illya was silently helping her.

"Just one thing, my dear nephew," she said.

By the time he looked up at her, she'd grabbed the rolling-pin, and she'd smashed a nut next to his hand with uncanny precision.

"If you hurt my Napoleone, you'll regret it," she declared.

"Understood, Aunt Audrey," Illya said.

She grinned.

A few minutes later, Audrey started considering upgrading Illya to the status of second son because of the way he enjoyed her cooking.

The antipasti were varied - olives, pepperoncini, mushrooms, slices of provolone, peperone and slices of salami - and the two young men cleaned their plates in the wink of an eye. Next, Audrey had made a traditional Piedmont pie, a tantifulua, a pie filled with potatoes, leek, onion and zucchini; Illya almost started purring, and the blond and blue-eyed young man slithered into the heart of the matriarch. Perhaps he was a Russian, but he could pass for a man from Piedmont, and that was enough for her.

When she brought two kinds of pasta, sugelli and raiola, with three different sauces, and Illya tried all the combinations, Audrey was ready to adopt him.

Napoleon had to slow down when his mother brought five varieties of cheese, and he almost fainted when she came with a huge platter of tiramisu.

Illya asked his aunt Audrey if he could have some more, and she was more than happy to give him more dessert.

"Napoleone, we need Illya in the family," Audrey declared.

"Just because he's got a bigger stomach than mine?" Napoleone teased both.

"I'm sorry to be such a bottomless pit," Illya apologized. "I love good food, and your dinner was delicious," he told Audrey.

She spotted something in him and inquired, "You do like food, Illya, but there's something else."

He shrugged and looked down.

Napoleon patted his friend's shoulder and said, "You might want to answer Mother."

Illya looked at Audrey, and the matriarch was clearly expecting an answer. He gulped and said, "I do enjoy food, really. At the same time, I remember being hungry and cold during the war."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"Kiev," he said.

"My poor sweetheart," Audrey said as she got up to go hug Illya.

Seeing Illya in his mother's arms made Napoleon's heart melt; it looked right. It felt right.

"Illya?" Audrey said.

"Yes, Aunt Audrey?" he answered.

She beamed at him and asked, "What does your first name mean in Russian?"

"Elijah," he said.

"There's more to it," she stated.

Once again, Mrs. Solo managed to surprise her son.

"The spelling is unusual because my mother wanted me to be unique, and my second name is a family name," Illya explained.

"You are unique and precious," she said as she kissed his brow.

"Enough to have some more tiramisu?" he asked with puppy eyes that could have made even THRUSH's number One waver.

Audrey laughed heartily and said, "As long as you're not going to put on weight because of it..."

"Don't worry, Mamma; he gets enough exercise," Napoleon said.

Illya and Audrey froze at the double entendre, and Napoleon realized what he'd implied.

"Training and at work!" Napoleon exclaimed.

Illya and Audrey traded looks.

"Oh, I don't want to know," Audrey teased her son.

"Really, Napoleon!" Illya said, pretending to look pained.

"You're running and training and... Oh! You're impossible, Illya!" Napoleon said.

Illya winked at Audrey, who giggled like a little girl.

"You know, I see why Koz gave you that medal now... Elena!" a frustrated Napoleon said.

Illya smiled warmly and said, "Thank you, Sergey."

Napoleon looked at Illya and chuckled; loving Illya was as simple as breathing, and just as natural.

"What's that Elena and Sergey story?" Audrey asked.

Napoleon blushed. He didn't know how to get out of that one.

"Sorry, Aunt Audrey, we shouldn't have said that. It's still top secret," Illya lied.

Napoleon saw his mother and his Illya battle silently. Illya was ready to respect Mrs. Solo, but she had to respect his boundaries.

"Napoleone, feed your cousin. I'll go make coffee," Audrey declared.

"How did you do that?" Napoleon whispered in Illya's ear.

"I got the Elena medal, remember?" Illya said.

"So?" Napoleon asked.

"So that makes me a matriarch, too," Illya joked. "Cake?" he said, presenting his plate to Napoleon.

Illya didn't give a damn about clichés.

Illya was strong enough to fight for Napoleon's love.

Illya loved him.

And he loved Illya.

From the kitchen, Audrey didn't miss the change in her son's eyes. She was happy for him, and she knew that she'd have another son soon.

"When Mamma's safely in a taxi, will you come back here?" Napoleon asked softly.

Illya beamed and nodded.

.

Finis