WIP: The House Affair
Jun. 29th, 2012 01:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayamaiaAnd this one is about Lisa Rogers being badass, but kind of got derailed by unexpected results of giving her a husband who took her name. Oops.
***********
"And with that, Napoleon just grinned at me and walked away." Illya shifted his trousers a bit awkwardly but kept walking.
Lisa Rogers, walking beside him, showed no sign of noticing the discomfort. "I don't envy you, Illya. The only way to deal with that man either way is to do so blatantly and completely, and he's never sufficiently obvious about it with you to just have it out." Lisa looked down and plucked at her top a little. She scowled at it. "This is an awkward conversation to be having in public, why don't we take it inside?"
Illya nodded at her, privately relieved. "My apartment? It's closer."
"No, sorry Illya, let's go to the house. I also have my own reasons to get home quick." She looked up from the sweater she'd been poking at, though her hand remained on her breast. "Some perils of a happy family they just never warn you about. Mind if I borrow your jacket to cover this up?"
Illya awkwardly handed over the garment and looked away until she had it positioned as she wanted.
Lisa, Illya was convinced, was one of the slyest and most competent agents UNCLE had ever produced. She had effectively created her position herself when, shortly after getting cleared for the field, she had helped to develop new security arrangements for Section One that required Mr. Waverly should have a permanent bodyguard. The old war horse had grumbled that it would just appear as if he was getting too soft to take care of himself, so she had suggested that the honor of his position would allow him to have a personal assistant or secretary. While he was still smiling at the thought, she had continued by saying a bodyguard would be more effective if she looked harmless anyway. Waverly had snorted, saying "You never look harmless, Miss Rogers, but very well." And that was that.
A year later, she had requested a security check run on a returning veteran. All it had revealed was some minor drug use in Vietnam, at which she'd shrugged and said "I'm sure I've been pumped full of worse." Lisa had met him at the airport and they'd all decided she had been terribly clever about her little romance, making sure her job wouldn't have any reason to interfere with it. When she'd brought the young man in to Waverly one day, Napoleon had leaned over to Illya and asked, "Just how do you think I should apologize to her for being so persistent last year?" Illya had leaned back and replied in a similar tone, "Very carefully, my friend." The soldier had taken her name, and nobody had the temerity to comment.
Lisa's husband had refused the first few positions Waverly had offered, laughing off discomfort by saying he'd rather keep his kill count in the low thirties. But he'd accepted a job as Waverly's backup driver, and the happy couple lived in an apartment attached to Waverly's house, with the cover that Lisa was the daughter of Waverly's deceased sister and he was living with them.
THRUSH had attempted a raid of the compound when Lisa was six months pregnant. The entire staff of New York headquarters had developed a deep and healthy respect for pregnant women, and Mr Rogers's kill count hit 35.
.
.
.
***********
"And with that, Napoleon just grinned at me and walked away." Illya shifted his trousers a bit awkwardly but kept walking.
Lisa Rogers, walking beside him, showed no sign of noticing the discomfort. "I don't envy you, Illya. The only way to deal with that man either way is to do so blatantly and completely, and he's never sufficiently obvious about it with you to just have it out." Lisa looked down and plucked at her top a little. She scowled at it. "This is an awkward conversation to be having in public, why don't we take it inside?"
Illya nodded at her, privately relieved. "My apartment? It's closer."
"No, sorry Illya, let's go to the house. I also have my own reasons to get home quick." She looked up from the sweater she'd been poking at, though her hand remained on her breast. "Some perils of a happy family they just never warn you about. Mind if I borrow your jacket to cover this up?"
Illya awkwardly handed over the garment and looked away until she had it positioned as she wanted.
Lisa, Illya was convinced, was one of the slyest and most competent agents UNCLE had ever produced. She had effectively created her position herself when, shortly after getting cleared for the field, she had helped to develop new security arrangements for Section One that required Mr. Waverly should have a permanent bodyguard. The old war horse had grumbled that it would just appear as if he was getting too soft to take care of himself, so she had suggested that the honor of his position would allow him to have a personal assistant or secretary. While he was still smiling at the thought, she had continued by saying a bodyguard would be more effective if she looked harmless anyway. Waverly had snorted, saying "You never look harmless, Miss Rogers, but very well." And that was that.
A year later, she had requested a security check run on a returning veteran. All it had revealed was some minor drug use in Vietnam, at which she'd shrugged and said "I'm sure I've been pumped full of worse." Lisa had met him at the airport and they'd all decided she had been terribly clever about her little romance, making sure her job wouldn't have any reason to interfere with it. When she'd brought the young man in to Waverly one day, Napoleon had leaned over to Illya and asked, "Just how do you think I should apologize to her for being so persistent last year?" Illya had leaned back and replied in a similar tone, "Very carefully, my friend." The soldier had taken her name, and nobody had the temerity to comment.
Lisa's husband had refused the first few positions Waverly had offered, laughing off discomfort by saying he'd rather keep his kill count in the low thirties. But he'd accepted a job as Waverly's backup driver, and the happy couple lived in an apartment attached to Waverly's house, with the cover that Lisa was the daughter of Waverly's deceased sister and he was living with them.
THRUSH had attempted a raid of the compound when Lisa was six months pregnant. The entire staff of New York headquarters had developed a deep and healthy respect for pregnant women, and Mr Rogers's kill count hit 35.
.
.
.
