For Ellie, who lived it and lived to tell the tale

"And another thing, Mikhail Nikolai Borchov" Lee said, staring Borchov dead in the eye. "Your hockey team was amazing at the Olympics last year." He lifted the shot of vodka and drained it.

"That is true," shrugged Borchov. "But your team at Lake Placid was better." He lifted his own glass and knocked it back, slamming it back down on the table with a grunt.

Lee refilled it, while Amanda shook her head in amused exasperation. They'd been at this for at least half an hour now, ever since Borchov had come over to compliment them on their work with Yuri during that nuclear bomb scare last month. He had insisted on toasting them with a shot of vodka and then Lee had insisted they toast Yuri for his part of it. From there, it had turned into the oddest drinking contest she'd ever seen - both of them trying to outdo the other with compliments.

Must be a Russian thing, she thought.

It reminded her of their night at Ted Rudolph's cabin two Christmases ago with the men making up ridiculous reasons to drink, except that she felt like this was a lot less friendly. It seemed like Lee had a history with this Russian, and this was some kind of bizarre continuation of a previous run-in.

So far they had complimented each other not just on sports teams, but the Volga Mountains vs the Rockies, the Kremlin vs the Capitol Building, the Black Sea vs the Great Lakes, and even Raisa Gorbachev vs Nancy Reagan.

Borchov shifted in his seat and dropped his voice. "Tost za milyye chernyye plat'ya…"

He didn't lose eye contact with Lee, but Amanda could sense something had shifted in the mood. She was standing a little behind Lee so she couldn't see his face, but she could just feel the tension coming off him. Borchov seemed oblivious though, as he kept talking.

"I zhenshchiny, kotoryye ikh nosyat," he added with a crocodile smile before draining his glass.

Amanda was aware that Yuri had made a quiet noise of disapproval as he stood beside her, making her wonder what Borchov had said, but when she turned to look at Yuri, he quickly schooled his face to have no expression.

She turned back in time to see a mocking smile on Borchov's face, directed at her. Her heart sank. Up until now, the evening had been pleasant, fun even, but it seemed like somewhere around the 12th round, it had taken a turn for the worse.

"Lee?" she said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's almost midnight and I think I'd like to go dance before the countdown. Would you take me?"

"Sure, just give me a second," he answered without turning his head. "It's my turn to offer a toast and it would be rude to leave my friend here hanging." There was a slight emphasis on the way he said 'rude' that suggested he had taken umbrage from whatever Borchov had said. "Now, Mickey here has just toasted all the lovely ladies and their… dresses."

Borchov, whose face had shown a flicker of annoyance at Lee's use of the diminutive name, now bared his teeth in an unpleasant smile, and this time there was no doubt his eyes raked over Amanda from head to toe. Amanda felt Lee's muscles tighten under her fingers and she squeezed her fingers imperceptibly.

"Ah well then," she said lightly. "I think it should be up to the lady to respond, don't you?"

Lee turned his head quickly and looked up at her, brow furrowed.

"Let me think.." she said, outwardly serene but mentally scrambling. Then her face lit with a mischievous look. "A toast to all the handsome, charming men here tonight and the way they fill out a tuxedo."

There was a moment of silence as the onlookers took in the difference between Lee, looking stylish with tousled hair that just made him even better looking and Borchov, with a hairline beginning to recede, jowls just starting in the other direction and a button on his tux that was not-quite-but-almost straining for release. The silence was followed by a general exhalation of breath as everyone tried not to laugh.

Lee stood up and turned to Amanda, lifting her hand to kiss her fingers. "Thank you, Amanda. That was perfect."

He gave her a wink that Borchov couldn't see, then led her away to the dance floor. As he turned to draw her into his arms for the waltz that was playing, he stumbled slightly, the effects of the vodka making its presence known.

"Sorry about that." Lee righted himself, then glared at the floor as if it had tripped him.

"We don't really have to dance," said Amanda with a pang, since she really did enjoy dancing with Lee. "I just thought it was time to break up your little schoolyard fight before it got serious."

Lee snorted, as he moved her into the dance. "Oh, with that guy, it's always serious. He can never resist trying to start something. Oh sorry," he added as he accidentally steered her into the path of another couple.

Amanda opened her mouth to brush it off, but then Lee's arm tightened around her protectively and she subsided, relaxing into the security of the warmth of his body and the comfortable scent of his aftershave - even as she kept one eye open for any further wanderings from the dance path on his part. She smiled as she realized he was humming happily along with the orchestra, a sure sign he'd imbibed a little beyond his usual, since he usually maintained a strict persona of world-weary party-goer at this type of event.

"That really was a great toast," he murmured into her ear. "Really knocked him back."

"What had he said that made you angry?"

"How could you tell I was angry?" Lee asked, tilting his head back to look at her.

Amanda gave a small shrug. "I don't know. I could just tell."

"Huh." Lee lowered his head again, absentmindedly leaning it against hers. "He just said a toast to black dresses and the women who wear them."

"Oh," she answered softly. "I see."

"It wasn't the toast that bothered me," Lee said quickly. "It was the way he said it."

"Well, that's because you're a gentleman. And he's definitely not." Amanda gave a small shiver as Lee unconsciously strummed a button on the back of her dress.

Lee, feeling the shiver and mistaking its cause, stopped dead and pulled back to look at her, eyes snapping with irritation. "Did he say something else to you? Do I need to go have a word with him?"

"What? Oh no, no," she answered. "He didn't say anything." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "He just… well, women don't think men are gentlemen when they look at us like that."

"That's it," declared Lee, starting to pull away. "I'm going to go back and let him have it."

"Lee, no! Don't!" she begged, grabbing his sleeve. "It was nothing - I don't care what he thinks. And look," she went on desperately as he wavered, "they're about to start the countdown to midnight. You wouldn't want to leave me all alone in the middle of the dance floor at midnight, would you? A gentleman like you?"

Lee paused, then gave a sheepish smile. "You are getting altogether too good at that, Amanda King."

"What's that?" she asked in an innocent tone but with a twinkle lurking in her eyes.

"Appealing to my better nature against my will." He pretended to scowl at her. "It's not playing fair."

"Well, like I always tell Phillip and Jamie, life isn't always fair." She smiled at him until he finally gave in and smiled back.

"Ten!" a shout went up at the other end of the room, and they both swivelled to watch the second hand sweeping across the clock. "Nine! Eight!" the cry got louder as more and more of the partygoers joined in, in various languages.

Lee tugged Amanda against his side as the countdown went on, turning his head to meet her beaming smile with a grin of his own.

"Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!" The room exploded with happy hoots and hollers.

It took a beat for them to realize neither of them had moved, then they turned in unison to fully face each other.

"Happy New Year, Amanda," Lee said, with an intent expression.

"Happy New Year, Lee," she responded.

Another beat and they leaned in without thought, Lee's lips finding hers unerringly as their bodies fitted against each other as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Amanda could taste the faint sting of vodka on his breath and wondered - for only a heartbeat - how much of his natural inhibition to think of her as anything but a friend was hampered by that drinking contest. Then again, she decided, right at that moment, as he gently ran his tongue along her lips and her hand cupped his face with a mind of its own, she really didn't care. She leaned in to deepen the kiss, a quiet regretful whimper escaping when they finally separated for breath.

Opening her eyes slowly, she found Lee studying her with a confused expression. "I'm sorry," he stammered. "That wasn't… I shouldn't have…"

Well, that answers that question, she sighed inwardly, recognizing the lurking panic in his eyes.

"It's fine," she said, lightly, letting her fingers trail down his jaw as it dropped away. "It's New Year's Eve, right? You gotta kiss someone at midnight for good luck, don't you?"

Lee's confused expression didn't lift. "I guess so," he said, suddenly looking very much like an awkward teenager. "I just didn't know I… I didn't mean to…"

He stepped backward jerkily, but with his usual spy senses dulled by alcohol and the confusion of the electricity of that kiss sizzling his nerves, he never saw the waiter who was making his way to the buffet table with a heavy tureen.

"Oh! Look out!" Amanda cried, just a moment too late, as Lee caught the waiter's elbow, sending him flying and the soup up into the air.

Lee spun in place, but again, that pesky drinking contest had left him without his usual reflexes, and he tripped on the waiter's outflung arms and went crashing down as well, straight into the sea of borscht the waiter had just poured across the floor.

"Oh no! Oh Lee, are you alright?" Amanda leapt forward to try and help him to his feet.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he answered, waving her away. "No, don't help me - you don't need to get any of this on you."

Amanda stopped in her tracks, realizing that he was right. He was dripping wet with red liquid, like some kind of horror movie. If Lee hadn't been sitting on the floor laughing as he tried to wipe himself down, it would have been stomach-turning as the red stain spread across his chest. The horrified crowd had parted, leaving the two of them alone in the middle of the chaos, except for the waiter who was sliding around in the mess, wailing in Russian.

Yuri materialized at her elbow, staring down at Lee in bemusement. "What are you doing down there, my friend?"

"Oh, you know," said Lee, waving his hand around in a nonchalant gesture. "Just dancing." He crossed his arms across his chest and lifted his legs to kick out Cossack-style.

It was so enchantingly ridiculous, his long legs arcing through the air that Amanda couldn't help but throw her head back and give in to helpless laughter, joined immediately by Yuri and Lee. A moment later, all the partygoers were laughing as well. The head waiter bustled forward with an armful of bar towels and helped Lee to his feet and began sponging him down, all the while yelling at the hapless waiter who was still on the floor.

"Comrade, comrade," Lee chided him. "Don't blame him - it was all my fault - he was the victim of my clumsiness." He took a towel from him, then pushed him away while he finished wiping borscht off his face and hands, before looking ruefully at Amanda. "Well, that's not how I expected 1985 to start."

"Well, it can only get better from here," she quipped, stepping forward to run her thumb along a drip he'd missed. "Come on, I think we should get you home."

"I'm sorry," he said, swaying slightly with a disconsolate look. "I've ruined your night out."

"No, you haven't," she corrected him. "Anything but, really. I mean, this will be a night I'll never forget now."

"Really?" He still looked dejected.

"Really, and who wants to stay past midnight anyway?" she replied. "But we're taking a cab, okay?"

"Okay," he sighed, then gave a sad hiccup as she took his hand and led him from the dance floor.

Not so long later, they were in a cab, on their way to Lee's apartment, Amanda smiling to herself while Lee snored gently where he'd slumped against her shoulder, victim to the vodka at last.

"Looks like someone had a good time tonight," commented the cab driver, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror.

"We did," smiled Amanda. "He sure knows how to show a girl a good time."

"Reckon he'll remember any of it when he wakes up?" cracked the cabbie.

"I don't know," she answered, reaching up to gently smooth his hair where it had started to spike up. "Probably not." She turned her head slightly so she could press a kiss against his temple. "But that's okay. I'll remember every moment."