Then again, Klaus was of questionable mental stability -- all from anger of course, not poor judgement. He'd always been stiff, even as a boy, and strangely neat. Just like his father. Dominic couldn't see why either of them even bothered having a butler.

But, it was Christmas morning, wasn't it? And that meant that Klaus was probably in one place, just like he'd been for the past few years.

Breakfast tray in hand, unsteady because of the weight of all those papers, Dominic made his way down to the library, knocking gently even as he pushed the door open.

Had he any idea of the intimate scene his arrival was about to disturb, he would have waited a full five minutes after knocking to enter. Five minutes, or perhaps an hour, or perhaps he wouldn't have entered at all. Yes, setting the tray down outside the door and quietly backing away would have been much easier on the nerves of all involved.

As it was, he recovered from his shock quickly -- for he was a butler of the highest calibre and as such trained in discretion -- and murmured politely as he hastily averted his eyes, "I was not aware you had company, sir. I shall fetch another coffee for the Earl."

To the man's credit, though he was running away, his footsteps remained steady and measured as he backed out the door and down the hall.

It was without doubt the strangest scene he'd ever come across in his life.

To begin with, one corner of the library was strewn with clothing; there were two wine-glasses, and a bottle still out. The Master was stretched out sleeping on the sofa, instead of curled up in his customary chair, and the Earl was atop him.

And they were both completely and utterly naked.

The knock had startled Klaus awake, but he hadn't truly reacted until the door had opened and his butler had spoken. And then, it was too late.

"What was that, Darling?" Dorian murmured, lips mashed against Klaus' shoulder, not caring at present to move from the wonderful warmth that was stretched beneath him.

"My butler," Klaus told him in a strained tone. He was already starting to shift Dorian off of him, knowing he had to go after the man, and quick, to at least *delay* chances of his father being told!!

Clinging closer, Dorian refused to be shifted. "Let him go. 's too nice to move."

"Stay here, then," Klaus told him, squirming -- god, they were still naked and pressed together so warm and close -- out from under Dorian, starting a fast, mad hunt for his clothing.

Disappointed but not truly surprised that Klaus had wriggled from his grip, Dorian shifted on the couch to watch the hunt. "Really, Darling. This is not at all how mornings after are supposed to go."

"No, I suppose not!" Klaus agreed in a deadly tone -- but it wasn't aimed at him. He found his pants and underwear first, slid both on quickly, then shoes and socks, grabbed up and pulled on his undershirt, tucked it in quickly... and spotted his shirt wadded up by one of the chairs. It'd already been picked up and moved onto an arm before Klaus realised the stains on it, and quickly dropped it. "What happened to my shirt?"

Dear God, but the man could dress faster than Dorian could strip! Perturbed at being awake at what the mantle clock informed him was an unholy time of day, the blonde was slowly gathering his mind to rise. "Shirt...? Must've used it last night..." He was heading for the door -- was he really going to just leave Dorian naked on the couch?

"*Shit*." Well, as consolation prize, Dorian ended up with the shirt tossed at him. "I'll be back!" And then, faster than he'd dressed, Klaus was out of the library, door slamming behind him.

Well, it wasn't a warm, firm-bodied German man, but it still smelled -- intimately -- of Klaus. Which was enough for the still groggy Dorian, who snuggled back into the couch, clutching the shirt close. "Hurry back, m'love..."

Klaus didn't hear those mumbled words, as he raced down the hall, towards the kitchen, intent and ready to wrench a telephone from his butler's hands. He had to nearly skid to a stop once inside the kitchen door, to find the old man... mixing creamer into another cup of coffee.

Dominic turned at the footsteps, a pained expression on his face. "Really, sir. There was no need to disturb yourself from your... rest."

He was met with the sight of Klaus, eyes wide, mouth open in half-shock. "You weren't calling the old man?"

"There is no need, sir," he was informed crisply. "There was a call approximately fifteen minutes ago, from your father's chauffeur. He will be arriving within the hour."

Within the hour... That gaping expression seemed to snap tighter closed. Arriving within the hour could mean anywhere fro ma *real* hour of time, or ten minutes... "Don't say a thing to him about this. Do you understand me?"

"Of course not, sir," he was answered. "I should expect you'd want to inform your father of your new... alliance yourself." Stoic, suffering Dominic loaded another tray with the coffee cup, adding, "Would the Earl care for a paper as well, do you think?" Knowing Dorian's tastes, the man had already positioned a small vase bearing a single rose in the tray's centre.

"No." Klaus' tone was sour as alum, and he turned from Dominic, storming steadily back to the library. He didn't slam the door open, though -- he opened it smoothly, and closed it behind him with that strange amount of consideration. "Dorian, you need to dress. Now."

Curled around that shirt like a child around beloved a stuffed toy, the blonde didn't move, feigning asleep. Perhaps when Klaus neared he could grab the man back onto the couch with him...

A low growl reached him, eyes closed or not, and he half expected to be struck. Instead, he felt Klaus' hands settled on his shoulder, shaking gently. "Dorian, you *have* to get dressed now. I'm expected to meet my father in the drive. He'll be here within the hour, and you can't be seen like this!"

"Your father!" Blonde, shirt and a few sofa cushions spilled to the floor at Klaus' feet, amidst a stifled yelp. "Darling, why didn't you say so? Oh, oh! Where are my things?"

Klaus pulled back quickly to aid in finding Dorian's clothes -- underwear and pants were easy to find, shirt a little farther out, but for the life of him, Klaus couldn't find the thief's shoes!

Some crawling around on the floor produced them, from where they'd been kicked under a chair. Despite being impressed with Klaus' speed in dressing, the thief wasn't bad himself, and was soon more or less composed and standing before Klaus. *Now* he finally got the customary morning kiss, a hurried thing which spoke fervent promises of more to come. "Darling, if you don't want me seen, I understand. I'll hide in a closet somewhere; the car's around back, out of sight..."

"Around back?!" Klaus panicked deeply at being told that. "What'd you drive here?!"

"The Lotus..."

Flashy, red... "*Fuck*. Father always parks at the back..." Klaus' brows were knit tightly together, either calling up a head-ache or displaying one. But it was clear that either way, he was tense. "You... you're here to appraise art-work. If he notices at all..."

"On Christmas?" Dorian frowned, a whole range of unhappy thoughts displayed on his handsome face. "That's an awful lie. I... really do understand that you wouldn't want me to be seen. But that doesn't make me any less hurt by it. You don't even want me here as your friend..."

"You don't know my father!" Klaus exclaimed, eyes still holding that stricken, unsettled look as he jerked Dorian close for another quick kiss. "Do you have a better plan?"

Since stripping naked and returning to the couch was obviously not viable, Dorian didn't. He shrugged, pulling a hand through mussed hair absently. "No -- I don't know your father. But I can tell just to look at you that you're afraid of him. Do whatever you have to, to make the meeting go smoothly." Even if it did mean locking Dorian up in the closet like some guilty secret. Which, the blonde supposed, he was.

"How... look, I'll put you up in my study for now, all right? It'll be all right in there, and he won't come across you..." Yes, that was an idea! Grabbing Dorian's fore-arm, Klaus dragged the thief behind him out of the library and up the stairs.

Well, if he wasn't to be seen, Dorian further supposed it didn't matter that his hair was a mess, and his clothes wrinkled. He *did* take a moment to snatch the cup of coffee from the butler's tray as they blew past the man down the hall. If Klaus was going to be such an atrocious host, he would simply have to fend for himself.

Poor Dominic.

Up on the second floor of the house, the study was a place where Dorian would be able to watch when Klaus' father pulled up to the house. And it was at the end of a hall, a good hiding place! Spartan, but comfortable, stacked with paper-work and books. "Just stay in here. I'll come back as soon as I can. Wish that old man would stay in Switzerland...."

"Yes, Klaus." Dorian allowed himself to be deposited in a chair, and, sipping at his coffee, watched the German stride from the room. One, two, three paces down the hall, and he decided it was safe to rise and explore the room a bit. No point in being bored while he waited.

Most of the books, not surprisingly, were military in nature. Books on tanks, books on guns, new and antique, history books, little scraps of paper...

And dead centre of the desk, sheets of music, stacked neatly, pen atop them.

The one thing in the room that was most private, and which he felt most reluctant to look through *would* have to be the most interesting. Dorian made it all the way through his coffee without so much as rustling a sheet of those papers. But with the drink gone and nothing to occupy his hands...

Simply marvellous, when he followed in his head the song as he knew it already, paired to the music he read from the pristine sheets. This... might be worth picking the piano back up, just to play -- if it hadn't been for the fear that he'd mangle it. Now, his mother could have done justice to the piece...

The sound of car tires over driveway startled him from his reverie, and Dorian looked down out of the window to see what had so thoroughly disrupted his morning.

Klaus had had enough time to go to his room and change completely. Pressed shirt, tie, clean pants, polished shoes. After tossing on his coat he then rushed out to the front drive, waiting only a few *eternal* minutes for his Father's car to roll up. He was standing, ready and nearly at attention, when the chauffeur got out and opened the door for Heinz.

Dressed as always in an expensive though otherwise unremarkable suit and coat, his silvered hair was combed perfectly into place. A military stride, swift despite his age, carried the elder Eberbach across the snowy drive to stand before his son.

For Klaus, it was like looking into an aged mirror. The only difference between them was years and hair-style. Klaus' father had always had short hair, and Klaus' own had always been longer.

The Major tensed a little as his father neared, but managed to force a smile onto his face. "Good-morning, sir. How was your trip? Have you had a good holiday?"

"Good-morning." A slow circle was paced around Klaus, the ritualistic morning inspection. As usual he found nothing amiss, save Klaus' unadorned left hand. But that was far from new. "It was tolerable," he uttered, standing back before Klaus. "I see you still haven't married."

"No... sir." Klaus' tone didn't change, but it had always been obvious to the man that Klaus hated the subject. "How long are you staying, sir? The house is in good shape."

"A couple days, I'd imagine," the older man responded, leaving Klaus to fret over any possible period of time between an afternoon and a week. "Aren't you going to invite me in? It's time for brunch." And with that he stalked for the house.

"Yes, sir!" Klaus took the old man's bags from the chauffeur, and trailed behind his father by exactly three steps, into the house. "Is there anything you wish for me to attend to?"

"Put me in the usual room," he was told, as his father chose another route at the front foyer, only stopping long enough to wipe snow from his shoes. "I'll expect you in the front parlour for brunch in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, sir," Klaus said crisply, going up to the second floor again, and into a different hall, thankfully, than the one he used. Far corner, opposite his bedroom and study. Then he moved to his study, keeping a close eye on the time. "Dorian?"

A very guilty looking Dorian looked up from the stack of staffed papers on Klaus' desk. "Klaus! I didn't... expect you back so soon."

"I... I'm not really back yet. He wants brunch. I'll bring you up something if I can, and maybe..." Klaus still looked strained and nervous. "You'll have to meet him eventually. Supper?"

Whatever protests Dorian had been about to make died on his lips, as a thoughtful expression took over. So much better than he'd expected, which was to be firmly booted out the back door as soon as the old man wasn't looking! "Supper -- yes, that's fine. And if you could arrange it so that I could wash first, and perhaps change..." For Klaus' sanity, as the clothing he'd come to Christmas Eve in was a lot of leather and fur, and none of it a sombre colour.

Klaus didn't care about his sanity -- he cared about his father seeing Dorian dressed so... "Yes. My room is next-door. The left side door. The bathroom is connected -- you can go in there now, if you wish..."

"Thank you, Darling." Dorian stole another kiss, passionate though not enough so to redden Klaus' lips suspiciously. "No worries -- I know how important it is to you that I don't mess up..."

Nodding gratefully, Klaus led Dorian out of the study, and into his bedroom, which was even more Spartan than his library. There was a total of perhaps four books, a closet, a cabinet, bedding, and a door that probably led to the bathroom. "I'll be back again as soon as I can manage..."

And with that, Klaus slipped out again, heading down to the breakfast room to meet his father, just barely there within his allotted time.

When Klaus' father said fifteen minutes, during any portion of which he was expecting to be waiting, he actually meant ten. Thus it was very smart timing on Klaus' part to arrive at nine minutes and a fraction, just as the old man was pulling back his sleeve from his watch. "Ah, there you are. Dominic is just about to serve. After brunch I will retire to my room for a rest, and later perhaps a tour of the house." Just to make certain Klaus was indeed keeping it in good order.

"Yes, sir." Klaus sat down militarily as usual, back perfectly straight, hands folded in his lap as he waited for the old butler to serve brunch.

The hard part was trying to keep talking to his father, when he just wanted the old man to go away!

If the elder Eberbach sensed the vague hostility aimed in his direction, he didn't mention it. A military single-mindedness was devoted to the meal, which cleared his plate completely and efficiently. The meal was only occasionally interrupted by tense conversation, about the weather, the estate, the political climate. Nothing even remotely personal passed the lips of either Eberbach.

Which was fine by Klaus. He ate, too, despite not really being hungry; the meal was familiar though, the same clime he'd grown up in. No, what he wanted was Dorian's' teasing and banter... He reached a hand to pick up a muffin, and set it beside his cleaned plate, to take with him when he left the table.

The motion tracked by his father's eyes but also not commented on. Just like the flash of red he'd glimpsed through the trees on the back drive. It was too early yet in the day to indulge in a serious round of grilling. That was best saved for supper. After all, one had to have *some* conversation to keep the meal from being stale... "Right -- I'm going to my room." Which, after having announced it, he stood from his chair and strode from the room.

And Klaus sank into his chair, palming the muffin and waiting until the count of forty before he sat up again, then stood, going up the stairs to his room. He'd escaped that meal too cleanly, it seemed...

Back at his room, there was no immediate sign of Dorian, unless one counted the sound of water being run in the bathroom beyond, a light humming threading its way between the drops.

"Still bathing?"

Klaus made sure his door was closed, and locked, before he laid back on the bed, feeling completely exhausted from the effort acting 'properly' took out of him. The old man wanted a nap, so... Klaus estimated an hour an a half, until he had to be found easily.

No answer. Dorian probably couldn't hear him past the noise of the spray. Klaus could still hear the humming though, rich and pure tones -- Dorian had a lovely voice -- and it took him a while to realise that it was his composition.

That Dorian still remembered it after so long was impressive, until he heard a few notes that were new. So, Dorian had read the notes while he was in the study? Payment enough, Klaus supposed, for shoving him there in the first place.

He wasn't going to run Dorian out of the house, and he couldn't hide him until his father left. But what was he going to do? There was no way to tell where they were, or where they were going, bound together by a want. Dorian could make Klaus happy, if he could just beat back the fears that still clung to him.

The water stilled, and Klaus could hear the humming more clearly. The Earl had a surprising aptitude for remembering music. And more strangely, as he came to one of the unfinished parts, instead of starting again Dorian unconsciously bridged it by repeating the same clause in another key.

/I'll have to remember that,/ Klaus thought, closing his eyes. He'd wait for Dorian to come out, talk with him during the time he had before the old man would want his tour.

Still humming, it was a dripping and mostly naked Dorian that exited the bathroom. He halted in his tracks to see Klaus on the bed, a surge of the old fear instinctive. Then a smile obliterated it, and he walked over. "I didn't expect to find you here."

"He's taking a nap before I have to give him a tour of the house so he can inspect it," Klaus sighed unhappily, still not opening his eyes. Not daring to. "I have a little over an hour."

Not enough time to do anything but talk, Dorian decided somewhat sadly. "Oh. Be a dear and help me find something suitable to wear?" he asked. "We're almost the same size." He knew that from spending a month lovingly wearing Klaus' favourite ox hide belt.

"I really don't have clothes that would fit your taste," Klaus told him, finally opening his eyes and wishing he hadn't. Dorian... was wet and beautiful, standing there at the end of the bed. "I..." A dry swallow, gaze locked on Dorian's body, barely wrapped in a tiny towel. "What do you want to wear?"

"It's your father's visit I'm dressing for," the thief reminded him. Such normal banter, about such an absurd topic! "Choose something, anything."

That prodding finally got Klaus to his feet, moving to the closet and opening it. He was sure he had a suit left over from school, at least one; he'd been a little smaller then, and it might fit Dorian better than the suits he wore now... It was a light shade of taupe, the one he finally found by rummaging at the back, complete with tie already left hanging around the hanger.

It was one of Klaus' ties, though, and those things always bordered a little on atrocious.

"This should fit you."

The suit, atrocious tie and all, was taken with a smile, and in passing Dorian's hand brushed over Klaus'. It was the sort of teasing touch that a year ago, or a week, or even a day would have gotten him hit. But Dorian meant it honestly now. It was a little bit of reassurance. "Thank you. After I change, would you... like to talk more?"

"Yes." Klaus moved to sit on the bed again, leaning back against the head-board now, eyes closing to rest. Best to store up his energy for the afternoon to come. And maybe he could even get to hold Dorian while they talked. That was certainly both calming and pleasing for them both.

More than a 'maybe' it seemed. Clad in the suit at it's minimal -- pants and undershirt -- Dorian climbed onto the bed and hesitantly into Klaus' arms, as if expecting to be told not to.

The other man didn't open his eyes yet, just shivered minutely and relaxed immediately, arms sliding tight around the blonde. "Thank you." Words spoken in a dry voice, but definitely appreciated.

"No need, Darling," he was told softly, Dorian's voice that same rich purr as the humming had been. "The few times we've done this, I've come to love it already. I could spend the rest of my life in your arms."

"It's very enjoyable," Klaus agree quietly, tentatively kissing the side of Dorian's cheek, before shifting closer. " 's been a harrowing morning."

"You'll have to tell me about it sometime." Perhaps tonight, is he was allowed to spend it with Klaus again. "In return, I'll tell you more about my mother. Back and forth that way, it won't be long until we know everything about each other."

"Yes." It sounded like it'd work, and he loved the sound of the Britain's voice. Dorian could say just about anything then, and Klaus would have been happily listening. "Hopefully dinner won't be too bad."

Dorian snuggled closer, tossing a leg daringly over one of Klaus'. It was comfortable, and not too risky considering the time restraints Klaus was working under. "Dinner will be fine. I promise you, Klaus, that I will be on my best behaviour. Whatever premise you've chosen for me to be there under, I'll stick to."

"He doesn't even know you're in the building," Klaus sighed, "I haven't got that figured out just yet."

"Would it be so strange for you to have a work acquaintance over?" Klaus' throat was so close -- surely one little kiss couldn't hurt? They were both clothed, after all.

"It's strange for me to have anyone over," Klaus murmured, letting out a startled noise when Dorian's lips pressed a light kiss, then a nip, against the side of his throat. "Ahh, Dorian, not now... L-later, but not now..."

"Just a little taste, Darling, is all I wanted." Or all he'd let himself want. Those soft soft lips, still there, were sighing now instead of kissing. "Make a work excuse. You're preparing me for a mission."

"I'll try to come up with something," Klaus sighed, voice a little frustrated as he stroked a hand against Dorian's side. "'s that one of my undershirts, too?" For some reason, the thought amused him. Maybe it was just punchyness.

"You didn't peel me out of one last night, did you?" The hand on his side was wonderful, Dorian's appreciation for it expressed in another sigh They seemed to be contagious.

"No." Well, it had to be one of his then, and that would explain why the material felt so familiar. "I want today to be over already."

"Soon, Darling." Dorian could make promises like that, because he was whimsical, and could actually if he tried hard enough make a day seem to progress faster. Because he felt secure in Klaus' arms, he could also get away with asking, in a small voice, "You'll let me stay the evening again?"

"Yes." Some of Klaus' desperation could be heard again, for that brief moment, but then it washed away again. "I don't want you to leave yet."

"Stay tonight... here?" Just to make his intent perfectly understood. "I don't want to leave yet either."

"Yes... here." The idea was scary, and exciting, and how could he say no? Not after the revelation he'd had the night before that he savoured Dorian's company, and felt what he felt was love. The strongest, most uncontrollable emotion he'd felt in his life, a draw towards Dorian, despite the risks...

Dorian picked up his head at that, shyly catching Klaus' eye. "You amaze me. You always have, but with this... I can tell you're afraid, but you're also so determined! Oh, Darling! It makes my heart ache in sympathy, at the same time I love you even more for it."

Some part of Klaus took that compliment and filed it away to be savoured. The rest of him just blushed a little, and he glanced at his watch. Not enough time -- too little left... "This will work."

"We can *make* it work," Dorian agreed fervently. "I've never seen you fail at something important to you, and I always get what I want..."

Together, they'd ever succeed, or die trying; that wasn't just a pat statement when it came to those two, either.

Because if it failed, they probably would end up killing each other.

"Ja." He shifted nearer, and kissed Dorian's mouth gently. "I'll come up to get you for dinner."

"I'll be waiting." In misery, because a moment not spent in Klaus' presence was one of torture, now that he knew how sweet they might otherwise be.

Yet, what would it be like to be in a room with two Eberbachs...? That was a question to be pondered, once Klaus was done easing Dorian from his arms. All that parting was done reluctantly, and he gave the other man a flicker of a smile before he let the room again.

Three minutes to get to his father's room at a slow walk, and he knocked once, very lightly, waiting.

It was as he rapped that he realised the old man's window looked right into the back of the house. He'd probably been staring at Dorian's car half the time -- if Klaus was lucky. If not, the elder Eberbach had forgone his nap in favour of walking out to study the foreign vehicle. Which would put him at the supper table cranky *and* with a sack full of questions!

Either way, his knock was answered not by voice, but by the door swinging inward, the old man himself standing in the doorway. "Well? Aren't you going to show me how you've been keeping the house?"

"Yes, sir," Klaus said crisply. "Where would you like to start?" For his own nerves, he wasn't going to think. Thinking anything about his father just made him generally on edge and unhappy.

"I noticed you've made some changes to the back gardens..." In other words, he wanted to wander out back, where the presence of the red sports car could be casually eased into the conversation.

Without questioning that, Klaus started to walk down the hall, knowing his father would follow. "Dominic supervised the work, sir. I was on duty in the Middle East at the time and didn't notice until it was finished."

"Yes, well..." It wasn't quite pride in his voice, but for Heinz Eberbach, something which came damned close. "Dominic always has had excellent tastes and a smart head on his shoulders. I'm sure I'll find the chances satisfactory."

Not what he would have said, Klaus was sure, if he'd said that he'd supervised the changes. Why did the old man want to go stand in the snow and stare at things that wouldn't bloom for at least another four months? "I'm sure you will, sir." He walked down the steps at a perfect pace, and then turned, leading the way through the back hall, towards outside of the schloss. And one of the first things they'd find outside would, of course, be Dorian's fucking car... "I've made a few changes to the gun-room, but nothing major."

"Mmn..." Clearly he wanted to hold judgement on *those* changes until after he'd seen them -- and had Klaus meticulously explain the logic behind them. "You've been keeping all the pieces in good repair, I hope? Take them down at least once a year to fire?"

"Yes, sir." That, at least, wasn't a chore for Klaus. He truly did enjoy the guns and keeping them maintained. "They're all in good condition."

"Excellent." The old man was in a generous mood, likely from the anticipation of drilling his son over the suspect red car. God forbid it belonged to Klaus! But until that time, he was being gracious and generous with his compliments. "You always did have a special touch with the firearms."

"Thank you, sir." It was good to get that rare compliment, but he also knew what it precluded. "It's often remarked upon by my superiors and adversaries."

No answer to that, as Heinz followed his son out the back way and down icy steps, heading in the direction of the snow-dusted garden. More obvious now than when they'd been in the confines of the house was that the older man, for all his military march-walk, could no longer keep up with the same from his son.

It was only a difference borne of years, though.

Klaus slowed a little, passing by Dorian's car without even glancing at it. Hopefully, his father would get it all out of the way now, rather than at dinner...

The old adage 'be careful what you wish for' probably didn't apply in this situation, as the elder Eberbach was equally likely to resurrect the topic of the car at supper weather he remarked on it now or not.

Which he did, with a dry snort. "Foreign plates. Flashy, ugly thing. You didn't tell me you had company."

"I forgot to, sir," Klaus said, looking over his shoulder at his father. "He's a colleague if mine. British. 's probably one of his better cars."

More silence, while the older man tried to wring every last hint from his son's words, like a tea bag used twice and then squeezed on a spoon. "Mn. I certainly hope he's been invited to dinner. I would like to meet him, although I expect I won't get along with a man who drives a car like that one." The insinuation was that Klaus oughtn't to either. "Strange, for you to have company, especially today. A pity it's not a beautiful woman."

Klaus had to bite his bottom lip to keep from saying anything stupid for a few moments, then replied, "He'll be at dinner, sir. Despite bad taste in cars, sir, Lord Gloria is someone I can get along with reasonably well. He's an art expert and does very valuable field work for NATO." The comment about a beautiful woman wasn't going to be honoured with a reply. His lack of a wife and children was a sore-point between he and his father, and now that Klaus knew a reason why it would *never* happen... He wasn't even going to bother with excuses for why. /Just ignore the comment.../

That Klaus' guest carried some title of his own may have mollified his father, because he said nothing further on the subject, instead focusing his attention on the reworked gardens. Each minute change was ferreted out and remarked upon, the man taking positive glee in the task, even though he'd never been particularly fond of the gardens when he'd lived at the schloss. It was amazing that he even remembered the schloss *had* gardens.

Then again, it wasn't like the old man had much else to do. Klaus' replies, patient, respectful and just what his father wanted to hear, were starting to sound frayed at the edges, Klaus' smile falling minutely. He wouldn't make it through dinner; he might not even make it through the day -- who the fuck cared about god-damned fucking statues, snowed over flower-beds and bushes?!

Perhaps Klaus' father did, and perhaps he didn't. Just when it seemed the old man was lost completely in nitpicking the choice of shrub for a particular location, he gave a pointed, sidelong glance at his son. It said 'Don't think I don't see your patience slipping away. This is your duty, and you will see to it in as fitting the head of the family.'

A very clear look to get from the old man. Klaus looked terribly out of place in the middle of the garden, hands straight at his side, trying to not speak out of turn. The glance was a chance to say something, so, "If you like, sir, I can have it changed; as I told you, I was on duty at the time."

"No; no..." The suggestion was waved away with a liver-spotted hand. "It's the wrong season to be tearing things up. Besides, though the change is rather... unconventional, it's not completely unfitting."

"I will try to be around the next time Dominic makes changes in the garden, sir," Klaus sighed more than he said it. "What else would you like to see, sir?"

"The rest of the house," he directed promptly. "And I'd better not find you've sold any more paintings!"

Back to the old argument... "Sir, I haven't ever sold any paintings," Klaus told him politely, turning to weave his way through the gardens back... hell, they'd have to pass Dorian's car again to get into the house.

Klaus got a finger shaken in his face, the old man's cool beginning to slip a little. "You were intending to! That's as bad as actually having done it!"

"I'm sorry sir." And God help him, Klaus did look sorry -- not about the painting, though. He was sorry that the old butler had ratted him out when it had happened. "I don't appreciate art properly."

Another jab of the finger. "Not art -- heritage! A portrait of our your ancestor shouldn't hang in the house of a stranger!"

/Dorian would appreciate the dammed pumpkin more than I would,/ Klaus thought, scowling for a moment before he said, again, "I'm sorry, sir. It was a poor idea."

After so many years, Klaus was quite adept at appeasing his father. The minor rant subsided almost immediately. "Yes, well... I'm glad that you recognise the error of your ways. I trust that it won't happen again." At least until after he was dead, he knew, but that was as much as any parent had a right to expect.

"It won't, sir," Klaus assured him, as they passed Dorian's car again, and he risked a glance at it. There was a coil of rope sitting on the front passenger side seat, and he was going to pretend he'd never seen it. Without pausing at all, Klaus walked to the back door, and opened it for his father. "In which room would you like to start? Upstairs or downstairs?"

"Upstairs." It was easier on old legs to begin at the top and work their way down. The heat, too, of being inside the house would do him good.

Both men's coats were filed away neatly by Klaus in the side closet. "Yes, sir. Which room?" Klaus moved down the hall at a slightly slower pace than usual, for benefit of his father's pace, and to take in the decorations that still adorned the halls.

"I've no need to see the spare bedrooms," Heinz growled lightly, as that should have been obvious to his son. "Begin anywhere else." The decorations Klaus was admiring were festive, and fitting the house of an aristocrat. But he hoped they would be taken down soon, before they could grow stale and unattractive.

Klaus would probably get around to taking them down in the next few days -- certainly before the new year. "The music-room, then," Klaus uttered, taking the steps smoothly. "There haven't been many changes made to the house. My room and study are unchanged." /Don't ask to see them. Please.../

"I would still like to see them." If only for the reason that Klaus seemed uncomfortably quick to remark that there was no need to see them.

"Yes, sir. There, first then..." Klaus seemed terribly unhappy about that, and it only made his father's suspicions worse! But it was best to get the horror over with, knowing that if they were to be caught, well, sooner than later would be better... At the top of the stairs, Klaus turned down the proper hall, and led the way to the end.

There was a tiny but noticeable slump to Klaus shoulders, which made his father positively gleeful to recognise. So, he was hiding something after all! Perhaps this mystery colleague of his really *was* a beautiful woman. It could only mean one thing if she was in his son's bedroom... Perhaps Klaus was embarrassed about bedding her without being properly wed?

Well, it was at least better than no woman at all!

And knowing his sons' sense of shame the way he did, Heinz could be sure that if he was right and that was why Klaus didn't want him seeing into the bedroom, there would be a wedding announced within the week.

Klaus led the way silently, stopping in front of his study first, opening to door for his father to look into the room.

The study was, as Klaus had said, perfectly unchanged, and thus of little interest to the elder Eberbach. One sweep of his critical gaze was enough, and he headed back into the hall. "Yes, very good. Now, about your bedroom..."

The old man could *see* the twitch of nervousness and unease that captured Klaus for a brief moment as the door to the study was closed, and then Klaus paused at his bedroom door for a moment. His hand touched the knob slowly, opened it slowly, and then swung it open slowly, expecting...

Not expecting his father to barge past him, certainly, eyes delving to every nook and cranny of the room. For there was no handsome, smiling Earl to be seen anywhere.

Klaus' heart was ready to jump right out his throat and out of his mouth -- for some reason, that made him more nervous than anything! Where was...

His eyes, searching more discreetly than his father, caught sight of a glimpse of blonde hair. Behind the door!! Dorian was... "Is there something wrong, sir...?" Klaus asked, tone fairly calm as he pressed the door wider open, expertly pinning Dorian behind the door and out of sight.

"Nothing is... wrong," Heinz assured his son, even as he moved to nose curiously into the bathroom. Nothing was wrong, but neither was it precisely right. He could *swear* he smelled roses...

Did Klaus have to be so cruel? Given no warning, he'd barely had time to dash behind the door before it had been tossed open, and now to add injury to insult Klaus was pinning him tightly against the wall! Unconsciously, the thief let out a small squeak of protest.

The look on his father's face was that same ponderous and unsure look that Klaus got when he occasionally jumped to the wrong conclusion about something and was deciding how to cover his tracks. To see that look on the old man's face was... priceless, really, even thought the squeak was a little startling for him. "Then shall I show you to the music room, sir...?"

"Yes..." But, even as he was being escorted away, Klaus' father could not seem to tear his eyes from the room. Surely, surely there was something he'd missed! But aside from the suspect fragrance of flowers, there wasn't a single unusual article of clothing, or a mysterious travelling bag... Perhaps he *had* ought to check all the spare bedrooms!

But how could he renege his earlier decision to avoid them?

Klaus closed the bedroom door behind him, leading the old man down the hall again. "What time do you want supper to be served, sir?"

He came to the unfortunate conclusion that there was no way, and settled impatiently into waiting for the mystery guest to be revealed over supper. "Eighteen hundred hours," came the terse reply. Wasn't that the customary time supper was served? "With drinks at seventeen-fifty, of course."

"Yes, sir. Do you want Lord Gloria present for drinks?" For once, even if for a short time, his *father* was on edge instead of him, and Klaus was noting that with his calmness.

"What?" On edge, and startled besides! What was the world coming to? Heinz seemed perplexed that his son was clinging to the pretence of 'Lord' Gloria. Wasn't Gloria a woman's name? "Of course he must attend. It would be unseemly to exclude your guest." Unless it was a woman, in which case it would be unseemly for her to join the men at before-dinner drinks!

"Then I will have to start trying to find him at least an hour-before hand," Klaus informed his father crisply, savouring the startledness. Yes, irritation was fading for the moment, and he'd have to grasp onto that tightly to make it through dinner. "I suspect he's gotten himself lost. The music room, sir, is in as fine condition as ever." And with that, Klaus opened the door for his father.

The rest of the afternoon progressed in a similar fashion, in and out of rooms, with his father obviously distracted from the inspection. He barely remarked on the new paint the parlour had gotten, and even dropped a compliment for the changes Klaus had made in the gun room. Top to bottom, front to stern -- the more of the house he saw, the more perplexed Heinz grew, until at the end, when they dropped into the kitchen to inform Dominic of the supper menu, he was downright vague.

The butler was a little startled by that fact, and when the elder Eberbach let Klaus break away for a few moments -- less than the requested hour -- to go locate Lord Gloria.

Klaus was just pleased to get away; hopefully his father wouldn't have much time to re-group before dinner and drinks, and that he'd still be off-settled a little. Better for everyone if it happened that way...

"Dorian?" He knocked on the door first, then opened it slowly.

The poor thief was actually hiding behind the door again! As soon as he heard his name he sheepishly snuck around it, an odd half-smile on his mouth. "You... are horrible."

"I'm sorry, Dorian -- I didn't think he'd want to see every room." The door was closed firmly behind him, and only once within the concealed safety of the room did he dare even look at Dorian.

"You didn't have to squish me so hard!" Dorian interrupted the apology. "I'm not built like one of your strapping German Alphabets! 'm probably bruised black and blue from head to foot." It was only after Klaus looked at him that he saw Dorian was teasing, his smile full now and impish.

"You're exaggerating," Klaus sighed in some relief, since it hadn't been obvious to *him* at first. One smooth stride forward had Dorian pulled into his arms, kissed lightly and nervously. Today was still better than the night before, wasn't it...? No arguing with Dorian, no straining revelations, and Klaus still hadn't had time to sit down and settle those out, so they were going blissfully ignored for the moment. "You have to come down for drinks." Mumbled words as he pulled back from the kiss, smiling back at Dorian minutely.

Just in time for another kiss, initiated by the thief this time, wildly exuberant. "Of course, Darling." Drinks -- a lone English Earl book-ended by two stern Eberbachs, and Dorian looked as relaxed as if he faced such perils daily. "And then dinner. You want to inform me now of any forbidden conversational topics?"

"Stealing, and anything frivolous," Klaus sighed, after thinking for a moment. Lots of things, but half of them his father would steer conversation towards anyway. "Just... be polite." It took an effort on his part, to pull back from Dorian, straightening his shirt and tie, before he moved to the closet to pull out his jacket and put that on.

Dorian didn't help matters any by following, his hands leaping at the chance for more contact with Klaus, even if it was in the pretence of straightening the shoulders of his jacket. "You always look so handsome," the blonde murmured. Far from his usual flattery, he sounded shy as he spoke the compliment. "I can't imagine why I think so, because you're so far from my usual type..."

"Fluffy little wisps like Caesar?" Klaus asked with a snort, straightening his tie again out of habit before he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling out a cigarette quickly. He'd have to smoke it and be done quickly, but he needed the nicotine to keep himself steady.

Because Klaus was smoking Dorian decided to indulge himself as well, perching next to the Major and taking the pack from his pocket as he lit up. "He was a pretty little thing, wasn't he?" Simple admiration, such as Dorian might have for anything his eye found pleasing. There wasn't even a hint of sentimentality to his compliment. "But for companionship, he was really no better than that ridiculous statue I stole."

"At least the statue wouldn't have been such a wimp," Klaus agreed, dragging in breaths of smoke that made the end glow hotly. Speed-smoking -- Klaus had done it before, and that seemed to be his goal then, too!

If he wasn't careful, he'd smoke right into the filter and not realise it! Dorian nursed his more slowly, content to put the thing out half-smoked if necessary. "He was delicate," the Earl corrected gently. "And you mustn't be too hard on him, Major. Since meeting you, *everyone* else seems weak and uninteresting."

"Huh." Klaus did stop before the filter, at least, and got up to snub it out in the ash-tray. Then he moved past Dorian, stopping at the door. "Are you coming?"

"Yes." Dorian repeated the same motions, his cigarette only half smoked as predicted. Then, standing by Klaus and the door, straightened himself one last time. At his side, his hand found and meshed with Klaus'. "A kiss for luck?"

"Ja." The touch of hands was a strange and new one for Klaus, and his fingers clutched at Dorian's for a moment as he gave the requested kiss. A kiss that he'd wanted just as much as Dorian did. Somehow, kissing Dorian and knowing it was Dorian was better than kissing that womanly faÁade Dorian had put up.

The kiss ended in a soft growl, as Dorian forced himself to take a step back, his hand slipping from Klaus'. "We'd better get going, before I change about manners and propriety and simply pounce you now, dinner be damned!"

That suggestion got him raised eyebrows from Klaus, and the German opened the door, leading the way down the hall-way. "That would not be such a good idea..."

Down the steps, too, and into foyer, off into sitting room where Klaus' father was already waiting. "Good evening, sir. Father, this is Lord Gloria. Lord Gloria, this is my father, Commander Heinz Christoph von dem Eberbach."

To Dorian's credit, he deported himself with such poise that even Klaus' father, with all his strictness, could find no fault in the Earl's manners. "Commander." A nod, as Dorian reached to shake hands. "The pleasure is mine."

"Likewise." Another coup for Klaus -- Dorian's appearance had further unsettled his father. Grey-green eyes lightened several shades by age met the darker gaze of his son, clearly troubled though as yet unsure how to react. The Englishman, for all that he was certain it *was* a man, was as beautiful as any woman.

But there was nothing in Klaus' eyes -- no emotion, no reaction at all, just an infuriating *nothing* as Klaus moved to the small bar. "Wine?"

"The usual cognac," his father frowned, as if Klaus could have forgotten.

Dorian nodded, and Klaus could tell how hard he was working to keep his expression also lackluster. It was such an odd thing to see Dorian without the smile that customarily lit his eyes, if not also his lips. "Please." Civility and nothing more. The man was a damned fine actor!

Two glasses of Cognac were poured, and then Klaus poured Dorian a glass of wine -- better stuff than they'd had the night before. It was then that Klaus' father realised that the question hadn't been directed to him -- that Klaus *knew* he'd want cognac, but was instead asking his guest what he wanted! The glasses were given Heinz first, then Dorian, and finally Klaus picked up his own. "Is there an agenda for this evening, sir?"

/Sir?/ While smashed behind the door Dorian had caught snippets of conversation, but that impossibly deferential tone from Klaus' lips made him startle to hear it again, clearly. Klaus *never* spoke to anyone so politely. It was rather frightening, and made him take a second assessment of the doddering old fellow who clearly scared the daylights out of his tank of a son.

"Supper at eighteen hundred hours." In case Klaus had fallen down on his duties as host and neglected to inform this Gloria person. Aside from the outrageous hair, he *looked* like a sensible enough person, but he couldn't forget the matter of that flashy car... "After, we can retire to the parlour for a good smoke."

Then again, for a doddering old fool, Heinz looked like he could have battered Dorian around a little with at least *some* of the ease that Klaus could do it.

"Of course, sir," Klaus nodded politely, taking a sip of his cognac. "Just checking that there had been no changes, sir. Do you wish an update of how the holiday party went, or has Dominic already filled you in on everything?"

Klaus had to, for future reference, remind himself to never never leave his father alone with Dominic. The topic of the party brought a self-satisfied smile to the old man's lips, of the particular kind Dorian recognised as a pale version of the one Klaus wore when he was about to shoot something.

"Yes, please give me the details. Dominic has informed me of only the highlights." And oh, he'd known! He'd known there was a beautiful woman involved somehow!

"It went well, sir -- there was only one crasher this year, and even they were a... wonderful addition to the party." His father *knew* he hated hosting the dammed thing every year, so why did the old man insist on 'details' every time? He didn't pay attention to details!

"I... did not circulate as much as I should have this year, and I apologise, but one of the party attendees was fascinating. Unfortunately, they also escaped my grasp when a call came for me, sir."

"Klaus!" His father was outraged. "You let her get away? You must find her again, this woman who managed to fascinate the heir-less head of the Eberbach family!"

He'd expected that reaction -- what he hadn't done, though, was prepare an answer. No, Dorian had come, and shattered his reality, hadn't he? And there'd been no chance to come up with excuses. "I don't want to, sir. She... was a hussy."

"A hussy!" Clearly this notion went against everything Dominic had told him about the woman in red. "Are you certain?"

Dorian suddenly froze -- wearing that horrible expression Klaus usually associated with his having botched a mission -- as the elder Eberbach's glare swung his way.

"Were you at the party, Lord Gloria? Is it as my son says?"

"Lord Gloria was at the party, and he himself coined the term for her; I just found it fitting, sir. She was very... fake." Klaus let that fall from his tongue with a heavy amount of disdain, and finished the cognac.

Confusion. If Klaus weren't so displeased about the whole situation, he might have been happy to see his father unsettled again. Almost one could hear the perplexed mumbling running through Heinz's head. /A hussy? But Dominic said.../ He turned on Klaus, not caring that Dorian hadn't had the chance to answer for himself. "My son was taken in by a hussy? Whatever could you find fascinating about such a woman? Don't you know enough to tell class and breeding?"

"Oh, she had all the brilliance of a proper lady, sir," Klaus assured his father, "and she could dance wonderfully. She was beautiful. However she also offered to do some very indecent things after the party, and that was... unacceptable to me."

"As it should be!" Heinz gestured sharply with his cognac glass, the amber liquid sloshing a little but not spilling. "A great pity though, that you wasted the evening courting her when the effort could have been put towards a real lady. Now, I've an acquaintance in Geneva who has a very charming daughter..."

A little absently, as he felt the beginning twinges of a head-ache, Klaus rubbed at his temples, trying his damndest to nod politely. "Sir..." Oh, fuck, he'd forgotten what he was going to say -- now he had his father's attention, and no words to put to it's use!

Dorian, surprisingly, came to his rescue, as smoothly coordinating his efforts to Klaus' as he did in the field. Through the whole argument about the mysterious woman in red, he'd been holding his tongue and biting the insides of his cheeks for good measure, wishing for once in his life that he wasn't an atheist, that he might have some god to beg salvation from.

But somehow the old man's attention had miraculously been averted, and now he felt it only fitting that he return the favour. "Klaus, if I might be so uncouth as to interrupt... I seem to have finished off my wine. Would you pour me another glass?"

"Of course." He owed Dorian -- once already, yet, in a way, Dorian had gotten him into that trouble. Moving to the bar, though, also gave him a chance to pour himself a fresh glass. So it was in slightly better spirits that he returned Dorian's re-filled glass to his hand, and took a sip from his own. "What were you saying, sir?"

A long-standing tactic that Klaus was no doubt pleased to see worked as well as ever. His father hadn't been about to say anything, and now was sifting through his mind to locate that nonexistent thread of conversation. "Ah, well- I... could do with a little topping off myself. And I see it's almost time for the meal to be served."

"Yes, sir." Klaus took the glass from his father, and went back to the little bar, pouring the man a generous amount, before returning it to him. "Shall we head into the dining room now?"

"Yes -- let's." The way he said it, Heinz managed to not only take the suggestion and make it his own, but turn it into an order for good measure.

He strode first from the room, Dorian waiting for Klaus to follow, so that he could brush a very quick touch to his shoulder. It was a reassuring and wry pat -- but then, Dorian probably gained as much reassurance from it as Klaus did.

Klaus was sure that he'd needed that tiny jolt to reassurance -- *now* Dorian understood the problem! And dinner would take forever... and beyond...

They'd go into the library and smoke afterwards and now Klaus had to wonder, nervously, if the Butler had cleaned up the library!

Klaus followed his father into the dining room, and stood at one end of he table, while his father was already at the other -- leaving Dorian to sit in the between. Thankfully, at least it wasn't the full length table. Now he just had to wait for the old man to sit down first...

He did, after that customary pause which was more a reminder of the power he wielded as the patriarch of the family than anything else. It was Dominic's cue to deliver -- in a stately pace and on a huge silver platter -- the first course from the kitchen.

The dinner passed quickly -- in mostly silence. Klaus' politeness was obviously wearing on Klaus, too, just from the little furrow between his brows. There was no dessert -- not surprising to Dorian -- and that left the meal, very formal and well set, having been of an interesting and good soup, boiled potatoes(with skins), meat and bread, at an inconclusive ending.

Klaus looked relieved when his father nodded to him, and he rose first, moving to lead the way to the library. Completely on edge as he opened the door.

Whatever hateful things he'd thought of the butler earlier he regretted now, to see that the library had been neatened, all traces of the previous night obliterated. It mattered not that Dominic had likely done it to maintain his good standing in Heinz' eyes, rather than for the comfort of his son.

"I'll start the fire," Klaus murmured as his father and Dorian entered after him. Then... then he could slink into the dark and just be talked at. And that would be good.

Dorian looked extremely relieved to be safe for a the moment, as Heinz headed for the humidor to choose himself a cigar. Supper had been both better and worse than he'd feared, with no uncomfortable questions, but a silence just as awful for one sensitive to such things.

When Dorian passed Klaus to sit on the sofa, the other man looked up from the slowly starting fire and made eye-contact. Real, good eye-contact -- both thanking him, and promising for the night to come. Klaus had no idea what he could promise Dorian, other than his attempts. And perhaps that would do for now. "Do you want a cigarette, Dorian?"

"I have my own, thank you," Dorian replied, slipping from his breast pocket a slender case. He regretted doing so as soon as he'd taken it out, remembering belatedly that it was one of the few things on his person that screamed frivolity. The cover was decorated in bas relief with a charming pastoral scene of nude shepherd boys.

Dorian was lucky *Klaus* didn't see it too well in the dim light of the fire, and a lamp in the far corner, else he'd have gotten scowled at and possibly chewed out for the thing. As it was, Klaus didn't have much of an expression on his face as he gave the fire a final prod, and moved to turn the chair that Dorian had sat in the night before -- his father's chair -- to face the sofa.

Then he sat at the far end from where Dorian was headed, leaving a comfortable two and a half feet between himself and the thief as he pulled out his pack and light one. /Three left. I'll have to get another from my drawer in the morning./

All that was needed to complete the uneasy gathering was for Heinz to wander over, puffing almost happily on a noxious cigar. He took the chair with a small sigh, his eyes flickering oddly over the pair on the couch. Something... Ah -- that was it! Klaus had called the British man by his first name. It wasn't impolite, exactly, but still remarkable enough that the fact had snagged his attention.

That was what decided him to learn the exact extent of the working relationship between his son and the blonde.

But Klaus wasn't going to initiate any conversation. He was cupping a hand around his lighter, trying to get his damned cigarette to light. Everything, it seemed, was trying to thwart him, including his smokes!

It finally lit, and Klaus clicked shut his lighter, sliding it away into his pocket and taking a glance around the room that went in order of Dorian's face, Dorian's hands, the fireplace, and then his father's face.

"So..." Another puff, the cigar transferred to Heinz' other hand. No need to rush -- it was this calm before the questions that he savoured most. Choosing with care which to ask, and how to apply them to maximum benefit in learning the information he wanted to know. "You work for NATO, Lord Gloria?"

"Yes," Dorian said, taking a brief moment to draw in a breath of smoke and exhale it. "I'm civilian, though. I do contract work for missions with Klaus."

"A civilian?" Clearly his esteem for the Britain, already not great, had just slipped a notch. "That explains the car lurking off the drive. Only a civilian would drive such an insensible car."

"I beg your pardon, but that car has been worked on to allow it to reach very good speed in an astonishing amount of time!" Dorian told him, sounding minutely offended. And then he realised that Klaus' father had finally gotten a rise out of him -- and he'd done so well in the sitting room with drinks! Then again, he hadn't been the object of questioning -- Klaus had. "It's the opposite of what agents from other countries expect me to drive. And though I'm a civilian, I truly believe that the work I do for NATO is without compare."

A simple snort dismissed Dorian's peerless work, as Heinz shifted forward in his seat. "You should take a lesson from my son, and drive a good, sturdy Benz. Or at the very least a Bentley, or another of those English makes. Italian cars are an embarrassment to their owners."

"I've learned to leave Dorian's choice of cars alone, sir. He'll justify it to his grave," Klaus snorted, taking a drag of smoke and letting it slowly out his nose. Also, saving Dorian from having to answer Heinz' accusation and suggestion.

"But it is a British car!"

Heinz looked, for the briefest instant, perplexed. But that might have been for the fact that he was unaccustomed to being talked at by two people at once, instead of for the fact that he'd incorrectly guessed the car's make. "Yes, well... It's flashy enough to be an Italian car." Which made it just as bad.

"I'm as loyal to queen and country as you are, sir," Dorian uttered a bit unhappily. "I'd never call a Benz was an undersized tank in front of any loyal German. I would hope you would have the courtesy to do a Britain the same by not insulting a good British company."

Absolutely the wrong thing to have said, as a roar of disapproval blasted Dorian from across the room. "And what is wrong with a tank?!?"

Klaus, sitting on the far end of the sofa, was hiding his eyes with one hand, still smoking -- this fight was not his, and after what Dorian had just said, the blonde could fight it out for a little while on his own.

"Nothing -- I can appreciate the beauty of steel. I have a leopard of my own, in fact!"

"You, a Leopard? A tank is not a play-thing! What is a civilian doing with a tank?"

If Dorian didn't quickly pull himself out of the fire, Klaus would be drug into the blaze as well, as his father's gaze was swinging his way, seeking an explanation.

"It's a very long story, sir," Klaus sighed, lifting his head to look at his father's sharply unhappy gaze. "It was payment for a delicate mission." Oh, that was a lie... but it had been the tank or that fucking pumpkin!

"Payment!" A sharp snort, and it took effort for the elder Eberbach to ease himself back in his chair. "A tank should not be degraded in such a manner. Used as currency! Do you even know how to care for it properly?" He pinned Dorian with an unhappy glare, reacting almost as badly as Dorian had to hear Klaus compare the worth of Tyrian's portrait to a lump of iron.

"Yes, Klaus has made sure that I've kept it in good condition," Dorian sighed -- it was worse than being scolded by his mother! He was longing suddenly for the silence and unease of the night before, when he'd had Klaus beneath him... Discreetly, Dorian crossed his legs.

If anyone could educate a civilian on the finer points of tank maintenance, it was his son. The knowledge that at least the Leopard was being well cared for seemed to appease Heinz, who got back to work puffing on his cigar. Very strange, though, to see Klaus defending the man! But while they were on the subject of tanks... "I was a tank commander in the war, do you know?" he asked Dorian.

"Oh, yes -- with the National Defence Army, weren't you?" Dorian asked, with a winning smile plastered over-top of his urge to frown unhappily. "I've heard it many times -- just about every time someone calls Klaus a Nazi."

"Yes, with the National Defence-" A smile -- he'd actually had a smile ready, that Dorian knew the Eberbach family history so well. It degraded into a frozen frown in an instant, as he repeated icily, "Nazi? Who dares to call my son that?"

"Well, occasionally the Americans, and definitely the Italians and French, and the Soviets, but they call everyone things," Dorian answered with a smile, trying to counter the senior Eberbach's frown.

"It's only idiocy from rival agencies, sir." Klaus's explanation was tired-sounding.

"You should beat them," was Heinz's advice. "Haven't I taught you to defend yourself? The family name, too, needs defending. I was not a Nazi -- would rather die than have my name associated with those butchers! Defending the homeland was a very honourable duty, one I was proud to undertake!"

"Sir, I swear that I have defended the family name properly," Klaus uttered lighting the last cigarette in his pack. "Anyone who says such a thing only says it once."

"Mn. That is as it should be." The closest to praise Klaus was likely to ever get from his father.

"So, um..." Dorian gave up for the moment, letting silence seep in once more -- better than yelling, and better than the snap-fire tempers of either man in the room. It gave him a chance to look around again, and wonder where the butler had put Klaus' Christmas gift to him. The Earl still had to wonder in amazement that Klaus had given him a gift at all, let alone one so precious to him.

"May I retire, sir?"

That was readily agreed to. Arguing took more out of the aging patriarch than he cared to admit. "I wouldn't mind retiring myself. A long day," he explained to Dorian, rising to his feet a little stiffly.

"Then we should all retire, so a new day can start sooner," Dorian smiled, standing up, too. This was perfect -- no wheedling or trying to explain he and Klaus leaving at the same time... Then again, the old man might follow them to Klaus' room... "Klaus, can you help me with my bags?"

Bags...? "Still in the trunk? Of course," Klaus agreed readily, realising, though Dorian might have bags in there, that there was a purpose to the request!

Heinz couldn't help as he left the room getting in one final word to his son. "Haven't seen to your guest's bags yet? A good host-" Then an ominous silence, as he reached a hand to touch something on the shelves near the door. "What is this? I don't recognise this..."

"What's what, sir?"

He turned, a slim volume bound in red and edged in gold in his hands. "Benedict the Red...?"

"It is... a Christmas gift for Lord Gloria. A few years ago he gave me his ancestor's journal -- he's refused to take it back, so that is a translation for him." Bluntly truthful about what it was, because trying to hide *that* would be more trouble than just admitting it.

"I don't understand..." The significance of the gift, or why his son would choose to give one thought out with such obvious care to the British man. He edged the book open, skimming a few pages... And was surprised to catch the name of Tyrian Persimmon.

It was both a shock and a relief, because it explained much. A very faint smile was on his lips as he replaced the book on the shelf. "Such coincidence, that two families so opposed should become allies. It is a fitting gift, Klaus." If only because if fulfilled an obligation to give something to the Earl in return for *his* gift.

"Yes, sir," Klaus agreed, moving to take the red-bound book from his father, and another, still hidden in tasteful wrapping paper.

"Well... Good evening, then." More than a well-wishing, it was a dismissal. And with that Klaus' father left for his room.

It was a blessing that the man hadn't seen the journal of Tyrian Persimmon in the wrapping. Klaus waited a ten-count before he turned to Dorian, pressing the books into his hands. "Let's go get your bags."

"I don't really have *bags*," Dorian replied, hugging the precious books to his chest. "A bag, which, before you leap to conclusions, I always keep in the car for just such an occasional need."

"We'll take our time getting it, then," Klaus informed him, leading the way quietly down the darkened hallway. "I think he's only staying another day -- if it goes as today did, we'll be fine."

"And after?" Dorian asked, skirting surely after. He was almost afraid to ask, but after the horror of the day, he needed something nice to look forward to for surviving another like it! "When must you return to work, Klaus?"

"January first," Klaus told him. "I.... think tonight I would just like to... lay with you." They reached the back door quickly enough, and Klaus opened it, flicking on the small security light before even thinking of venturing down the snowy stone steps. Salted or no, they stayed slick!

Dorian could resist no longer. Under the cover of the small overhang, where he was certain they wouldn't be seen, he threw his arms around Klaus' neck, mouth seeking the other's hungrily. "Just lay... right. Darling... with your father in the house, I couldn't possibly-!"

Klaus couldn't have, either. And they both still needed to find a time and place to talk it over, make decisions that were important, and Dorian knew he had to be there for Klaus when the man started to try to work things through again.

The kiss between them was quick and rough, a hurried passion that frightened Klaus a little -- though if it was the intensity, or the knowledge that all it would take would be one misstep and Klaus' father would see...

"Car, Darling. Bag."

Walking across that space from the house to the fringe of trees was one of the longest walks of Dorian's life. It took a conscious effort to keep himself a natural several paces from Klaus. Walking close would have been disastrous, even though he wanted to so badly, at the very least for the warmth since he didn't have his coat on...

From his car's trunk a single, discrete bag was retrieved. It seemed unlike Dorian, until Klaus realised that the man was actually *good* at being discrete in such matters when the mood struck.

"Did you plan on staying long?" Klaus asked quietly as they started the walk back towards the house.

"No." Dorian shot him a sidelong smile. That, at least, was safe. "I wasn't sure even about telling you about the party. And after that I was expecting to be thrown out, not asked to stay the night!"

"Why did you tell me about that party?" Klaus asked at last, curious still about that. As discomfiting as the thought was, Dorian could have gotten away cleanly with his act, and Klaus would never have been the wiser that it was Dorian -- only, the look in Dorian's eyes, and the fall of his hair had given it away. But he wouldn't have known if Dorian hadn't told him, would he?

"I told you because... I thought things were finished. Before, no matter how you protested my advances, there were always small signals to the opposite. I used to search for those, hoard them like jewels. But to see you respond so completely to a woman -- any woman, even a fake one... I came last night intending to tell you that I would not be working with you any longer."

Klaus stopped in front of the closed back door, and looked at Dorian with an open gaze, trepidation flickering there for a moment. "I told you that it was the only time I've ever responded that way to a woman. I... was responding to you."

Dorian stopped with him, an oddly vulnerable expression on his face. "I didn't- couldn't know that. All I knew was that you smiled at me at the party like I'd always wanted you to, and touched me like I'd always wanted, and that it was going to make even harder giving you up, knowing what I was loosing..."

How could he explain properly to Dorian that the thief, posing as a woman while still acting as himself, had been a socially acceptable person for Klaus to respond to? That Dorian had gotten the same responses from Klaus as always, only Klaus had been *able* to act on those responses at last! To make matters harder for Klaus, he was facing not only the realisation that he'd been wanting to respond to Dorian for perhaps since day one of their meeting, but that he'd never responded to a woman in his life.

"You're not loosing anything."

"No, I'm not." Dorian gave a shaky, forced-sounding laugh at that. "Possibility was the only thing I had to loose, because you'd never been mine, but even that hurt." And now that Klaus might actually be his, it was important to make the man understand how very close a thing it had been.

Klaus chanced his next movement, sliding an arm over Dorian's shoulders, keeping him close. A lazy half embrace that took a lot more nerve from the German than Dorian could understand. Slowly, he led the way into the house again, careful to keep mostly quiet so as not to waken his father upstairs. "'m glad that you didn't just leave and quit."

Dorian melted gratefully against him, not caring for nerve or fear, only that it felt right. "I couldn't Darling, when I saw just how angry you were. Worse than I'd expected, and that gave me back a little hope."

"How?"

"Only something that you cared about could have possibly made you that angry."

A light squeeze of Dorian's shoulder, and Klaus nodded to that reasoning as they took the stairs quietly, one by one. "'n you told me, I was scared that you'd pulled the wool over my eyes. That you were going to taunt me with that or something." The more Klaus talked, the more he slid from that strange polite and proper phrasing to his more casual speech pattern. "I was just realising that... I acted like I did because it was *you*, and I was scared that you might burn me. 's a bad way to make a first go at anything."

"Suspicions have a way of ruining things before they've even begun," Dorian confirmed quietly. "And even if I deserved some of them -- oh, Klaus! I wouldn't have taunted you, even if I'd slunk away last night hurting and regretful. The temptation might have been there, but I would never!"

"Shh." A quiet reminder to keep down both voice and the topic of conversation, until they were safely in his room. A turn down the hall, and a few long-legged steps, and they were there, Klaus opening the door and closing it behind him. It was good to be someplace safe, even though being there with Dorian made him particularly nervous.

"I think I know that now."

"What made you finally realise?" Dorian asked curiously, pressing minutely closer as soon as safety had been reached.

"Just... everything," Klaus sighed, breaking away carefully. "You looked as hurt as I felt last night." He took his jacket off, and the vest and tie, tossing all three casually at a chair. Then he started to unbutton his shirt. " 'm going to do my exercises, 'n then shower. Do you want the bathroom first?"

Not at the expense of missing whatever Klaus' 'exercises' were! Dorian kicked off his shoes and curled on the bed, automatically assuming the position of a master lounger -- his head nestled on an out flung arm, pillowed by a mass of honey-gold hair. "'s okay. I washed not long ago, and I'm actually rather tired."

Nodding to that, Klaus sat down on the floor, stretching briefly for a moment before he tossed his shirt at the chair, too. Then he laid back, knees bent, feet on the floor, arms folded behind his head. "1... 2... 3... 4..." He started sit-ups, the nightly regiment of one hundred. There was something relieving about doing that, because it took his mind off of Dorian's presence for a moment.

It was fine, so long as he didn't glance over to the bed, to find Dorian watching him with a half-lidded, deeply pleased expression. Though technically still clothed -- he would have liked to have seen a bit more skin! -- Klaus surprised Dorian with the un-self-conscious way he attacked his exercises.

But then, he'd never been afraid to undertake them in Dorian's presence, the routine likely a soothing one.

And then, after finishing a hundred sit up, the man turned over and started on his push-ups. Which was certainly a more enjoyable view for Dorian, though Klaus didn't realise that his exercises could give Dorian such enjoyment. His mind didn't even wander there, as he kept his careful count. "36... 37... 38..."

An enjoyable view, made even better by shortening the distance between himself and Klaus. Dorian crept to the edge of the bed, trailing an arm lazily over the side. "Need some more weight?" he couldn't help but offer. "I could do that thing where I sit on your back, and everyone watching would be very impressed with your strength- Well, I would be the only one watching, but I would still be impressed..."

"48... 49... 50..." Klaus stopped, and promptly stood. "Tomorrow, maybe." And didn't even think twice about the innuendo that Dorian had fairly well dripped. "You going to change?"

"I will," Dorian promised him. "You going to shower?"

"Yeah."

And with that, Klaus walking into the bathroom, rubbing a little tiredly at one temple.

His bath was a little slower than usual, due to thinking while he cleaned. He was fast realising that on any given day off, he had too many moments to contemplate things. The entire time he washed up, he was frowning, knowing he'd need his sleep to make it through another day of his father being there. And they'd have to get up early...

They would have to get up early. They. He and Dorian... and there would be no risking his father or the butler waking them up and startling him again! He decided, as he dried off, to set his little used alarm clock for twenty minutes before he usually got up.

One could never be too safe.

When he strode out of the bathroom, it was cleaned, hair a little damp still despite a good attempt at drying it, and wearing another undershirt and a pair of pyjamas.

It was a dark room he entered, made darker when the bathroom light was extinguished. From the glint of gold peeping above the drawn-up covers, Dorian was already in bed. And judging by the even, gentle sound of breathing, he'd fallen asleep.

Perfect, then. He could touch Dorian without feeling nervous, and just go to sleep quickly. The alarm was set quickly to quarter to six, and then he lifted the sheets, rustling for a moment before he slid an arm over Dorian's warm body, pressing close.

If Dorian had been asleep, it was a very shallow one. He roused when Klaus tossed an arm over him, immediately plastering himself against the other man with a happy murmur of sound. When all he felt was heat-soaked cloth, a distressed eye popped open. "Pyjamas, Klaus? Such modesty..." The blonde himself was clad in a sheer pair of silk sleep pants, and only as a ward against excess temptation.

"'s what I always wear to bed," Klaus murmured, sounding slightly perplexed at Dorian's protesting voice.

"Ah." Truly, it wasn't that much of a problem. A blessing, considering the circumstances. A little skin was all he wanted, an easy thing to have with a hand slipped between buttons just so...

He couldn't help a frustrated whine when instead of skin that hand found more cloth. "Who in the world wears an *undershirt* to *bed*?"

"Don't whine," Klaus sighed, eyes closed tight as he shifted nearer. "Go to sleep."

"Can't." At least, not until his hand indulged in some more mischief, wriggling around until it had gotten under that accursed undershirt as well, to rest flat on the warmth of Klaus' abdomen. "M'ch bett'r," came a drowsy murmur from Dorian, who was already slipping back into sleep.

A much better that kept Klaus awake for at least half an hour past his usual time. 0030, and he finally fell asleep, the feeling of a long fingered palm on his stomach finally slipping from his mind.