Ever since the Americans and Russians allied to track down your father, who was being forced to build a nuclear weapon for the Nazis, tensions were high. Solo and Illya were always arguing, bugging one another (literally).

Today was the day of the meeting between your uncle and Alexander Vinciguerra. You wore a short flowy dress with your hair up. Solo noticed the obvious tension between you and Illya and decided to entertain it a little. "Is your tracker on?" Solo walked into the room, rumaging through his bags. "Why don't you check for yourself?" You countered and stood up on the table so he could turn it on. Solo glanced at Illya who was on the other side of the room. "Go ahead." Illya hesitated for a moment. "It's your tracker, you should-" Solo cut him off. "Your the expert aren't you?" Solo left the room.

You turned and looked at Illya, trying to ignore the feeling in your chest as he walked over to you. You were taller that him standing on the table for once, he was at least a foot taller than you normally. *Illya rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up before he placed them on your thigh. You couldn't help but gasp softly. "Your hands are still cold..." "Sorry..." He rested them on your skin for a few moments, under the tracker attached to a piece of fabric tied around your thigh. "What are you doing down there..." "Trying not to get lost..." You looked down at him and he met your gaze...