They were a trademark of his lifestyle, his beloved job.

This one was killing him. The Russian man with the club had landed a hard blow against the back of his skull, and it felt like his shoulders had been freed of his skull's weight -- the blow to his chest that came next took the wind from him.

No back up that was worth speaking of -- just that damned thief, and he was already a lost cause to the fight, scraped up in the corner like a beaten terrier for the moment. That bursting feeling of air-starved lungs hit him fast, and he sucked in quickly, trying to get something to work -- anything!

"Good night, Major Eberbach," the man taunted -- one of Mischa's nameless thugs, winning? Over him...?

*Never*.

Shoulder holster and side-arm, one in each hand, barely taking aim at all before he fired at the man, a rapid succession of shots that would more than stop him. Then, bullets spent, he let his guns fall, and crumpled face first onto the stone floor on which he'd been kneeling. The thief had to find the chip on the man's body, and fast, before more came...

It seemed impossible -- the man had damned near killed Eroica, from the looks of it, and if Klaus hadn't known that he was stronger than he looked, he would have been surprised to see that battered body struggling to come to, to move. He knew, though, and the beautiful blond man who crawled across the floor had his mission firmly in mind.

/Get the chip. Get Klaus. Get out until the Alphabets can find us, or Bonham, or anyone.../

It was hard, and he knew that the others had to have heard the Major's shots. Still, he forced his body to work, rummaging through the man's jacket even as he bled and shook, fingers carefully gripping the microchip and then slipping it into a tiny concealed patch at the back of his neck, beneath all of those glorious golden curls.

"Now for you, darling," Eroica said as loudly as he could dare, shifting to try and help the Major move.

"Get out... I... can't... chip... get out..." He was trying to move, but the stabbing seer of pain on his left side and an inability to catch his breath yet was crippling him. Eroica could get out faster without him; he would only hinder escape. Finally, Klaus got up on knees and one hand, the other clutching at his left side to find out what was wrong -- had he been shot, and not noticed? Broken rib? Punctured lung? "Run."

"Not without you!" The words were whispered, but firmly meant, and he was being shifted whether he could breathe or not. "Can't... unh... run anyway, darling..." And that was true; Dorian was black and blue all over, and a scalp wound was beginning to soak down the curls on the left side of his head, to top it all off. "Out the window with us, Klaus-love," he said shakily, the world greying out faintly. "Your dear boys will be here soon, and you can yell at me later."

"No Alphabets... they're not here... not coming... knew that--" His already choked words cut into a strangled noise of agony as Eroica pulled him to his feet, an arm around his chest. The thief's fingers clutching at his left side were too much pressure! He'd been shot before with less pain than this. "Your... men?" he asked, a desperate hope seeping into his voice -- to hear that, from Iron Klaus, was faith-shaking.

"Yes, darling," Dorian promised softly, dragging him to the window. "Out on the ledge now, to sit, just to sit." If he could only stay standing long enough to get Klaus out onto the ledge... "Bonham... will... come..."

Even though they were nearly the same height, Klaus was heavier than him, and with Klaus barely trying to move towards the ledge it was a nearly impossible feat. "Can't... sit..." The world was going to fade out into a wash of dizzying nothing first, of panic. His breath had sometimes eluded him in recent months, but never with such pain! "Can't... breath...!"

"Damn you!" Eroica whispered. "If you die on me, I shall *never* forgive you, so *breathe*, and I'll get you out there and hold you up!" Well, he would, until he himself fell. He would! And they were so close, so *close*, Klaus almost out the window...

It was a low stone ledge, thankfully, and Klaus got onto it, seated, moments before Dorian slid the window closed behind them. "Can't..." He was still moving, but starting to look deathly pale beneath the flowering bruises. His determination wasn't fading though, and it gave him a nasty stumble from the ledge to the grassy ground beneath that only made the stabbing pain worse.

Blessed thing that they'd been on the first floor.

It still gave Eroica a nasty turn, for he almost couldn't force his body down beside him, even though he could hear them coming. "Darling! Oh, Klaus..." Ah, but the chip was important, wasn't it? /Please, God, I know you don't like gay men at all, but *please* let all that racket be Bonham coming to the rescue!/

Klaus started to get to his feet again, tried to rise with a sharp lurch of movement that made breathing harder than before, and started a racking cough when he needed it least. "Run..." A final urging, as the Iron Major found he couldn't get moving again. Too much pain, and not enough air...

"M'Lord!"

"Bonham! Blessed timing, man! The Major..." Eroica began.

"Christ!" the little man exclaimed, flagging for Jones. Then Dorian felt a supportive arm, deceptively strong, hauling him up. "Peters has the car on the other side. If we hide the Major in the back, cover him with a blanket or something, we can pass the border..."

"Do it," the thief whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "Just... get us out, Bonham... get..."

Knowing they'd be safe at last, Dorian let himself slip into unconsciousness. There wasn't anything else he could do.

~~~~~

"M'lord...?" That was Bonham's voice, calling to him from the front passenger seat of the inconspicuous black car. "Where should we head -- to an estate, or hospital?"

"Hospital," he said, voice rough and hoarse with pain. "The Major..." His fingers were almost subconsciously buried in dark strands of hair, petting even when every bone in his body felt as if it was broken! Ah, his darling repressed man... if anything were to happen to him... but it seemed such an impossibility.

"He coughed up blood while you were sleeping, Lord Gloria," Jones told him, looking over into the back. They'd bandaged Dorian's head wound and plopped a hat atop it to get them over the border, just as they'd wrapped Klaus up in a blanket and hoped it wouldn't smother him in those tense moments of crossing. "We gave him some bottled water, and then he went back to sleep."

Dorian paled beneath his bruises. "Oh, God..." A hand went to Klaus's chest as if somehow it could work magic. "How close are we, to a hospital?"

"We don't know -- we just crossed the border into West Germany. We might be better driving on to the NATO office and then letting them take him from here," Peters said.

"Just hurry," the British lord said softly, fingers tenderly pleating in that hair, his own aches and pains rising impossibly just then. "Hurry..."

A ragged cough left Klaus just then, moaned and struggled out as the man started to instinctively sit up.

"It'll be another two hours at least, m'lord," Bonham told him carefully.

"Call them," Dorian said, voice firm, solid. "Tell them the route we're taking and tell them to *send someone*, and to do it *now*."

"Will do, sir." Jones, passing the wireless to Bonham. A few short moments of clipped speaking followed.

"M'lord, they're sending A, B, C, Z and a medical person."

"Good," Dorian murmured, eyes closing again. "Bonham? I think I'm going to pass out again. Shake me when they find us..."

~~~~~

"Lord Gloria...?" A softer yet strangely more firm voice prodded him awake. He could feel a cold breeze passing through the car, and the warmth on his lap was being moved.

"Nnn..." It was barely a sound, and he was so stiff that he wasn't sure he would be able to even open his eyes. A sharp pain in his back told him it was a bad idea to move yet. "Hm?"

"We're going to take you to hospital, Lord Gloria -- can you tell us what happened?" Agent Z pressed softly, kneeling down beside the stopped car while Klaus was extracted first.

"Mischa..." It was about the only word he could get out, but he forced his lips onward. "Mischa, sent a man, beat...both of us... not so bad as the Major, Z..."

He could hear Klaus give a lurching groan, then a strangled cry of pain, before he was taken entirely out of the car. "Thank you, Lord Gloria -- thank you. Do they still have the microchip?"

Dorian tried to bring his arm up, but it didn't want to function. "Hair," he managed to get out. "Underneath... Z, 's he all... right? Tell me..."

"We don't know. He looks..." No, there was no reason to go on and possibly upset the Earl. A gentle hand was laid on his chest, another on his back to tip him forward. It moved up to search carefully through curls of blond hair. The chip was found in its little patch of false skin, and tugged free just as gently. "You're next to be put on a stretcher, Lord Gloria. Here it is..."

"Want to go with..."

"You're both going to the NATO facility, Lord Gloria." With that, Z's gentle touch helped pull him to his feet, and laid him out, with the help of the medic, onto the second stretcher.

Even that wasn't enough for Dorian. He wanted to be *with* Klaus, to hold his hand, to touch his face again, to kiss him and do all of the things Klaus had never let him do! Grumpy darling... "...yes..."

He was jolted at first, into the second ambulance, and agent A got in with him. "You'll be all right, Earl. Really."

"Tell him..." Dorian moaned as someone jabbed him sharply. "Not... to die... without... me."

~~~~

When the Earl of Gloria next awoke, it was in a clean hospital room with two beds, and only his was in use. There was a little huddle of chairs in the room, bearing Bonham, A and Z.

"Hullo," he said, voice slow and hoarse and only slightly slurred. "You're all hovering."

"We can't do much else, Lord Gloria," Z spoke up.

"The Major will be moved here when they've finished with him. It's..."

"Grave," Z cut into A's words. Something in his quickness said that he'd chosen a kind word for the situation at hand.

"How are you, m'lord?"

"I feel like I've been beaten with a brick bat, Bonham," Dorian murmured grimly. "How grave?"

"He's punctured a lung, and it collapsed. They opened his chest to repair, but there's more wrong than that," A said in a concerned rush.

A deep, deadening sense of dread filled the pit of Dorian's belly, somehow even worse than watching his adored and aggravating Major struggle for the breaths he took. "More?" he whispered, numbness overtaking him.

"More," Z affirmed. "We don't know how long they'll be in there. They've got his chest open now, so they're trying to do as much as possible while they're in..."

"Tell me something *specific*!" Dorian said, shaking his head. That was stupid, he realized, as dizziness overtook him. "Tell me what's wrong!"

"He, er..." A made a gesture, two fingers slightly parted, to his lips and back away, as if smoking; Klaus had often made it when he wanted a cigarette and didn't have a pack on him, a signal for one of his agents to give him one.

"They're not sure, yet, though. It's damage control for now," Z cut in. "They haven't run tests yet."

Cancer, then. They didn't have to say it -- no, they didn't have to say it at all, Dorian *knew* and had feared it for years. He'd wished that Klaus would stop smoking the damned things one after another after another; but then, there were a lot of things he'd wished that Klaus would do. His own smoking was inconsistent and more for effect, at least. "When?"

When would they know? When would decisions need to be made?

When would Dorian hear the words that could quite possibly end all pathetic hope for happiness in his life?

"After he's better. They're cutting out a... suspicious piece of lobe now. It's on the lung that collapsed. That will have to be tested..." A looked miserable as he said those words, spoke them without trying to think of their meaning.

"Of course." That agreement was flat, without the typical liveliness of the Earl of Gloria. "And what have they said about me?" He wanted to be well because he *was* going to nurse Klaus whether he wanted it or not!

"Mild concussion -- blood-loss and a lot of deep bruising, m'lord," Bonham told him. "You can leave tomorrow afternoon, if they clear your head as all right."

"Find somewhere to stay nearby," Dorian murmured, closing his eyes, though he wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep. "I don't want to go far. Z, did you find the chip? I'm sorry I couldn't have told you better..."

"Right at the base of your neck -- you've both saved thousands of lives by keeping those codes from the Russians," Z told him softly.

"But it can't save HIM," Dorian said sadly, "can it?"

"L-look at it this way, Lord Gloria. If... Mischa's man hadn't hurt both of you, it might... never have been found, until much too late." Though A and the rest of the Alphabets had been worrying in recent months. The Major had been thinning a little and coughing, always claiming he had a slight cold, or allergies, or that the cleaning staff wasn't dusting well enough.

"We'll have to be cheerful for him," Dorian decided softly. "We can do that. I'll drive him crazy, just like always..." But shouldn't a man be allowed to have peace when he was d... ill?

"I think he'd be bothered more if things change. Depending on how bad it is, he'll be taken off duty, and..." Z shrugged sadly into silence.

"And he won't want things to change," the thief whispered, holding back tears. "I... I think I want to rest now..."

"Of course, m'lord," Bonham comforted quietly. "We'll be here if you need anything." There, and deathly quiet, each in their own private musings.

Despairing, Dorian closed his eyes, and vainly sought for sleep to come and steal him away from the nightmare that had suddenly been made of his reality.

It came creepingly, and then faded many hours later, to a babble of voices and noise. "Hmmm?" he murmured, eyes fluttering open. The room was at least partially dark, but the voices were coming clearer as he came more and more awake.

"Constant..."

"Twice a day...?"

"... and every hour, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"... keep an eye for fluid on the cavity, and air. Keep the oxygen in, and let him rest while talking, once the tube is out and he's up to that."

"Darling?" It was a bare murmur, Dorian's eyes fluttering open. "Major? Klaus?"

"Someone move him out of here -- we can't debrief the major with anyone--"

"He was part of the mission! There's no reason to move him, you--"

"G, calm down."

Frowning, Dorian attempted to sit up and automatically regretted it, groaning. "Ohhh, why bother Klaus? He can't talk around that thing. I can tell you what happened..."

B moved anxious over to Dorian's bed, recorder in hand. "Then start?" Behind the agent, Dorian could make out Z speaking softly, hurriedly to Klaus in German.

"We came into the building through the ventilation, the way we had planned," he began, speaking softly. "It wasn't too difficult -- I was worried because they didn't have as many guards as I had thought they would..."

Forty-five minutes later, they were wrapping up. "...and he just wouldn't stop hitting until the Major had shot him repeatedly, and we crawled out the window," Dorian said tiredly. "Bonham found us there."

"Thank you, Eroica," B said, clicking off the tape, and nodded to the excess Alphabets in the room -- they left, with all but one doctor. He remained to shine a light in Klaus's eyes and get moaned at softly, the only sound capable of escaping around the ventilation tube.

"Darling, *do* try not to injure the doctors, they *are* concerned for your welfare, truly," Dorian said with his typical flair, getting another sound for the effort.

When the doctor left, Z was the first to approach the bed that Klaus was in, looking terribly worried as he gazed at his superior officer. He was deathly pale, with that blue-tint still lingering to his skin. The hospital gown he was in had a little blood on it, seeped through where they'd stitched his chest back up through the layers of flesh and muscle. His face had bruising, and the oxygen tube didn't help make him look any better.

"Sir...?"

"Nnn," Klaus grunted, with a staggering slowness and deliberateness to it.

"Don't make any noise," Dorian pleaded over the side of the bed. "Don't try, darling..."

"Just rest, sir," A urged, same tone as Dorian was using. "We... have you been told what..."

"Nn." Klaus fixed the agent with tired eyes, not wanting him to go on -- there was no point to being told vital information when he was just going to forget it in the haze of drugs they had him on.

"It doesn't matter," the thief said, knowing what Klaus meant. "Just rest. It can all be told later."

"Nn." Less intense now, and Klaus closed his blood-shot looking eyes, leaving Dorian.

"Oh, darling, you must get better," he pleaded so softly as to go unheard. "You must. I'd die if you didn't!"

"Don't say such things, m'lord!" Bonham exclaimed.

"The Major could never... not get better," A assured.

Dorian shook his head, trying to reassure them. "No, no, I wouldn't, it's all right. Just... feeling the effects, I suppose. What did they say? I was asleep..."

"Say about what...?" Z asked.

"About..." His voice trailed off, blue eyes going to the still figure in the other bed.

"Non-small cell."

"Tell it in small words, for the idiot," Dorian said. "The implications, what we're to do, what we're waiting on..." /How stupid I even am for thinking there is a 'we'... if we let him, he'll go die alone in some hospital and the world will be deprived of a wonderful man.../

"It's not the worst type. It's still operable. They need him to heal from this, and then we'll know from there." Z leaned forward a little in his chair, looking at the major.

"Thank God!" Dorian whispered softly, falling back into his pillows. "Oh..."

"Half of his left lung is gone; it isn't functioning at full capacity. They said it may never function again," Z went on softly.

"So long as he lives," the thief said quietly, "and so long as he can be Klaus again..."

"If he can pass a physical with that..." A wanted to say it would be a miracle, but didn't.

The expression on Dorian's face said that he would, whether he actually did or not. "We'll just have to wait and see," he said finally.

"Looks like we've got a lot of that to do," Bonham noted sagely.

A loose sigh filtered from the thief as he turned on his side, half-closed eyes watching Klaus across the way. /I'll do anything to make you better. I'll move mountains, if I have to. Please, don't die on me, not now!/

~~~~~~

"Thank you for driving me, Z," Klaus murmured to his right hand man as Z carried his other suitcase into the front hall. "I can manage well on my own now, thank you."

"Er... well, sir, you see, that's the thing of it," Z began.

"Thing of it?" Klaus looked up sharply, pinning Z with a stern glare.

"Er... Well, sir, you see," Z commenced once more.

"DARLING!! You're home from that terrible place!" came the cry from the doorway, unmistakably and without a doubt the sound of Dorian Red Gloria, one who was as usual fantastically and horribly dressed in the opinion of one German NATO officer. Feet bare, legs covered in something most remarkably resembling footless blue tights, Dorian was clad in an off-the-shoulder tunic of some sort in a blue that matched his eyes with deep golden Celtic runes around the hem. "I thought you would NEVER get here!"

Klaus didn't even spare a moment before bursting into a bellow -- loud, angry and completely belying his damaged lung. "What the HELL is he doing here?!"

"I've come to take *care* of you, darling!" Dorian declared, expression slightly injured. "Don't you love me anymore?"

"Oh, fucking God -- get that bag, Z, and go back to the car. We're leaving."

"And after I've worked *so* hard!" came the next declaration, hurt only partially feigned. "Really, Major, do you hate me that badly?" He was aware of the answer that was coming, so why did it hurt so much that he knew?

"Yes!" Klaus only stormed past him, though -- deciding in a split second to not leave, but to stay. It was *his* house, after all!

"Well, it doesn't matter!" the thief told him quickly, following him in a flurry of hair and motion. "I'm still going to stay right here and pamper you madly! So you had better just get used to it, or else!"

"Or else what?" Klaus rotated, pivoting towards the thief.

That brought Dorian almost against him, blue eyes narrowing. "Or else I'll have *James* move in, too!"

"I don't need your idea of pampering!"

"Well you're going to get it anyway!" Dorian drawled, fluffing strands of lovely blond hair lightly.

"Why?" Klaus brought it out now, still not giving up an inch more of space to the thief. "This is my land, and I could have you hauled off by the police at any moment..."

"Call them, and I'll come right back. WITH James," Eroica promised -- and this was DEFINITELY Eroica, a glittering, beautiful man capable of carrying out that threat entirely.

"Fuck." It was his favorite English word, Dorian was sure, since he used it as an expletive so often. Klaus's right hand was just itching to go to his shoulder holster and draw it. "How am I supposed to 'rest' with this lunacy going on?!"

"Uh, sir, you're currently half the lunacy..." Z piped up, knowing he was risking life and limb in saying it. "Lord Gloria wants to make sure--."

"'Lord' Gloria wants to harass me until I give in to his perverted ways!" Klaus bit out, before he stormed off down the hall and out of sight.

"Well," Dorian decided, "he took that better than I thought he would..."

"Lord Gloria... He..." Z hesitated, looking around to see if Klaus was lingering and ready to explode nearby. "He really doesn't hate you. We all know it, at the office."

Dorian smiled at Z sweetly. Such a nice boy! He was glad that Klaus had him. "I know," he said solemnly, a bit sadly. "Still. There are appearances to keep up for his own sake, so we'll let him have them, hm?"

"Yes." Z gave a slight smile, for a moment. "I'll be leaving now, unless you can think of something I can do. Did the delivery men drop off the oxygen tank, just... in case?" If they had, he hoped to God that it hadn't been put in Klaus's bedroom. The Major would throw a fit if he saw it...

"I've got it tucked away under some of the... er...decorations that were added to the Major's room," Dorian said, waiting to hear the other man yell. "Hopefully, *those* will make him angry enough that he won't notice *that*."

"Oh..." Z felt a migraine coming on. "Then I'm leaving now..."

"EROICA!!!!!!"

The roar came down, loud and clear, from the third floor of the building.

"Goodbye, Z," Dorian told him cheerfully. "I'll take care of it! Really!"

"Good bye, Lord Gloria..." Z left quickly, getting into his efficient little car and speeding off without any hesitation.

That left Dorian alone in a house with Klaus. "Might as well be a man about it," he decided, heading up the stairs and along the upper hallway towards Klaus's bedroom. "Darling, I can explain, really!" he called.

"There is a nude man on my wall, and I want it gone *NOW*," Klaus bellowed, a hand over his eyes when Dorian walked in. "Along with the drapery!"

"But, darling, it's a *tasteful* nude man. It's *Raphael*," Dorian said. "The drapery is only to accent it. Truly!"

"Get it *out*!!!" Klaus's voice broke into silence for a moment, then a cough, and Klaus pivoted away completely, hand going from his eyes to his mouth as he coughed.

"Darling, lay down. I promise, I'll take it away, I'll bring you something better. Water nymphs, or perhaps something else, just... please..."

"I don't want any paintings, or anything..." The coughing made his chest ache -- up through his healing stitches, and the tang of blood in his mouth was unpleasant as he did move to sit down in a chair.

Dorian was already moving to find a coverlet for him, expression determined. "Klaus. You *must* rest. Please."

A frustrated growl left the man as he rested his chin in one palm, still trying to quell the cough. "I've been resting for two blasted weeks!"

"Please." The word was said again, softly, pleadingly. "If... if you'll just rest, I'll go away," he promised, though it hurt him to do so. "If you'll just..."

"I'm *resting*, dammit," he growled unhappily, gesturing to the chair and lifting his gaze to glare at the thief. "See? I'm *resting*. I don't see why you're hysterical."

As if offended by that word, Dorian sniffed and stood. "Because, darling, I love you madly, and I fret over you. Isn't that enough of a reason? Or do I require a special one other than that?"

"I don't need your hysterics, Eroica," Klaus snorted, closing his eyes again. "And I won't 'rest' all of the time, either -- there is no way I can get better if I laze around all day."

Hysterics, he called it! The fact that he loved Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach was *not* histrionics -- it was idiocy, actually, and Dorian Red Gloria *knew* it. "You can't get better if you don't rest properly, either!"

"It's hard to rest when there's a nude man on your wall startling you," Klaus growled, changing the subject again.

"I'll get rid of the nude man," Dorian promised. "Perhaps a landscape, instead."

"Fine, fine," Klaus sighed, shaking his head. "When you come back, I'll be in the gun room. I'm telling you so you won't go hysterical that I've dared to move."

Rolling his eyes, the blond earl sighed. "Of course, darling, but don't overdo it, all right? They *did* crack your chest open, you know. Most people take absolute weeks for recovery. You're so stubborn!"

"I want to keep myself busy polishing guns -- and when I am even better, I will exercise," Klaus declared, getting up from the chair in a smooth motion, careful with his balance. "And you will not stop me."

"Just don't do too much!" Dorian said in exasperation. "I'll be right back with something else, and when I get back, you MUST go to bed, all right?"

"It's the middle of the afternoon!"

"Yes, and you just got out of the hospital!" One bare foot stomped down firmly. "You WILL rest when I get back! Promise me!"

"Only if you manage to pry my gun out of my fingers," Klaus bit out, before he left the room ahead of Dorian.

The Earl sighed. "So long as you don't try to shoot me, darling."

Luckily, Klaus was out of ear-shot.

It wasn't hard, really, to replace the picture -- he just put it back up in storage where it had been in the large attic space. He brought down one that was a bit more tasteful instead -- a battle scene -- but he kept the drapery. When that was all done, he headed down into the weaponry rooms, to the gun room, where Klaus was humming to himself and shining a sharp-looking revolver.

"I'm back!" the blond declared with a smile. "Did you miss me, my love?"

"You're a pest," Klaus sighed, not looking up from his guns. He suppressed a cough carefully, and then picked up the second buffing cloth.

"Yes, and you love me," Dorian sighed, as if he thought that romantic, lightly tossing a few curls back over his shoulder. "Tell me it's true!"

"I'm going to beat you into a wall, if that's what it will take to get silence here," Klaus growled, setting aside his immaculately kept gun. He wished for a moment that he hadn't lost those two on the mission.

Sniffing, Dorian shook his head. "It's time for you to come rest now. I replaced the painting with something more warlike so that it would better suit you, all right?"

"Eroica, I do not *want* to rest," Klaus growled. "I'm fine. I'm not an invalid."

"Tell you what," Dorian said. "If you'll rest, I'll do something for you that you want. Any one thing, so long as it's not going away entirely. All right?"

"I can't think of anything else I want you to do, Eroica," Klaus said solemnly, looking up at the thief. "Why *are* you being such a pest?"

For a moment, glimmering aquamarine eyes darkened, turning a deep, almost hurt midnight before flashing back to normal. "Because," the other man replied, arms wrapping around himself slowly, "I just *adore* annoying you, darling."

A quiet moment of silence, and then, "If I died, you'd probably follow me and pester me there, too."

"Right behind you every step of the way," came the cheerful promise.

"Fuck." Klaus set the gun down, and stood up, to look Dorian right in the eyes. "Why don't you understand what I'm telling you?"

A shrug answered that, slow and deliberate, though those arms were still crossed over broad chest, a smile pasting itself slowly on Eroica's features. "Because I adore hearing you tell me how much you hate me, my love. What better reason could I have? After all, you say it so often, and so vehemently... it certainly couldn't be that I wish that one day, you'd say something *else*, after all."

"Dammit, I want you to leave me *alone* -- You're such a... a fucking pervert! I can't stand that!" Klaus wanted to grab him by the collar, shake him *anything*, but didn't -- instead, he just loomed threateningly, moving closer.

"I'm sorry, darling, but I just can't do that." For a moment, that dark expression was back in the eyes of his golden Brit, and then it was gone again, flashed away behind the mask of that smile. "I'll leave you alone for a little while if you'll promise to lay down and rest. I won't even bother you 'til tea time."

"Fine." It *wasn't* fine, though, but there was nothing to do for it. He detoured for a moment, long enough to grab a book, and headed towards the stairs, half aware of Dorian looming behind him.

"Just making sure that you're actually going to lay down, love," came the lightly spoken murmur. "Once you're comfortable, I'll wander off. I promise."

"I'm sure you will," Klaus said over his shoulder, looking back at the thief with an angry glint in his military green eyes. Just long enough distracted to misstep, having slowed to shoot that look. His left hand caught quickly on the handrail, book dropped, his the already pained arm and shoulder taking the jolt of his weight; it drew a strangled *noise* from him.

His own gasp was overlaid by Dorian's, the other man by his side and catching him almost before he was sprawled on the steps. "Ah, God, you've hurt yourself! Let me look, let me...!" His hands were shaking so much it was a wonder he could get Klaus over, working at buttons to see if he'd torn open anything. The earl's face was pale even as he tried to remain determined and quick for Klaus' sake.

"Oh, fuck," Klaus hissed as Dorian's hand skimmed over his skin, checking his stitches -- they were all fine. The fall had just jerked taut already tight muscles that surrounded Klaus's ribs and chest, or at least it seemed so.

"You aren't bleeding any worse, just the seepage," Dorian said, and his voice trembled. "I think perhaps we should call a doctor to be sure, and perhaps we should move your bedroom to the ground floor, Klaus, please..."

Klaus didn't move yet, just laid there, sprawled on the steps and concentrating on breathing as he heard his butler rushing towards them.

"What happened?!" the man demanded in a near hysterical tone of voice.

"He fell," Dorian said, shaking his head. "I think you should call a doctor now, please, and set someone to bringing a bed into one of the downstairs rooms, the parlor, perhaps. It's good and warm and easily accessible to the kitchen and a bathroom is nearby..."

"I'm not an invalid, dammit," Klaus snarled softly, trying to move a little more onto his right side to relieve the pain. "Oh, God..."

"I'll make the call right away," his butler said in a hurry before disappearing.

"Of course not," came the solemn reassurance as Dorian gently began to button his shirt back up. "Of course not, darling, only do indulge me, hm? I'll think of something marvelous to make it up to you, all right? I'll peel grapes for you or something, really. I'll even let Z come and give you reports if you like, anything...."

He didn't really get an answer -- just a soft groan, and less than soft cursing from Klaus, just under his breath. "Just... help me... up..."

"Come on, darling. You can lay on the couch in the parlor..."

He didn't get to his feet so much as he was slid upright, breathing suddenly painful in ways it hadn't been for at least a handful of days. "Stretched everything out..."

"I'll help you," Dorian whispered, supporting him as they moved carefully back downstairs. "I've got oxygen for you. Don't protest, darling, please, just take it, all right? I'll go get it..."

No protesting, as Klaus gave a stiff, unhappy nod, being escorted into the parlor and then set down on the couch. "Fine, yes..." Anything to get the thief to stop fretting over him!

"I'll be right back," came the promise, Dorian settling him into the couch and piling its pillows around him. "Only a moment. I'll hurry!" he declared, and then he was gone. It seemed only seconds before he was back again, tank and mask in hand and placed lightly over Klaus's nose and mouth. Green eyes were already tightly closed. "Breathe deeply, darling."

"Mm." He obeyed, following an order from Dorian for the first time in his life -- it was, he'd later admit to himself, a good idea. Otherwise, he would have struggled to breath for at least another hour, growing more and more drained with each breath.

Seeing him laying in a hospital bed had been bad enough, but seeing him on the floor, injured and having difficulty breathing, was worse. Dorian could have wept if he didn't know that Klaus would call that one more reason not to like him. "There, there," he soothed. "There, darling. It's all right. It will be all right."

Klaus cracked open his eyes to fix Dorian with a look that said 'I know it'll be all right', before closing them again, making a noncommittal sound. He didn't *seem* too worried... Seem being the word, until he started to cough, trying to get the mask off so he wasn't coughing against it.

It lifted away, Dorian's fingers with it, but the man's hand was also on him, beneath him, rubbing his back comfortingly. /God, please, how long can it take for a doctor to arrive!/ It was a horror to feel strong muscles tense and spasm with the force of that cough, Klaus finally stilling it with effort, hand coming away with a little blood that was wiped on the dark brown upholstery to blend it away.

"Oh, God, what's taking them so long!?" Dorian whispered to himself frantically. "Lay back, Klaus, please...

"I'm laying back," Klaus sighed, trying to glare at the man and failing miserably. "I need to rinse my mouth out..."

"Sir...?" The butler again, this time with another man behind him. "I've found the town's doctor."

"Oh, thank God! Please," Dorian said, stepping around the edge of the couch to make way for the other man. "He fell, and he's just had surgery on his lungs, one had collapsed and..." And they hadn't told Klaus about the cancer yet; no, they hadn't!

"A fall...?" The doctor looked quizzical, as if wondering what the concern was. "What sort of surgery, Herr Eberbach...?"

Klaus began to answer, and then didn't. "I can't quite say." It hadn't seemed a necessary thing for him to know -- only that he was getting better, and shouldn't smoke anymore...

"One collapsed," Dorian said again, shaking his head negatively at the doctor, eyes shadowed.

Unfortunately, that didn't reach the butler, who knew just as much as Dorian did. "And they took out a part -- it was cancerous. They had to open his chest..."

"WHAT?!" Klaus's sudden bellow brought him to aching coughing again, eyes *wide*. Did *NO ONE* think him worth telling such things?!

"How long ago?" the doctor pressed. "Should he even be out of hospital yet...?"

"Two weeks," Dorian said reluctantly. "They said it was all right to come home until the test results were in. He..." Lip bitten, he changed that. "You wanted to come home, didn't you, Klaus?"

He had until he'd found out that Dorian would be invading his house, and that worse had been done to him than he'd thought! Klaus only gave a nod, almost angry in it's intensity as he kept coughing.

"Doesn't sound very good."

"Call the hospital," Dorian told the butler sharply. "Call Z!" Yes, Z would know just what to do, not that Dorian didn't, but Klaus would accept it from his Alphabet!!

What had started out as a day that was simply shitty had quickly gone downhill, Klaus thought to himself. It didn't look as if it was going to get much better anytime soon!

~~~~~~

"Why wasn't I told?" Klaus asked Dorian in a rough tone of voice. A bed had been moved down into the parlor in his second absence, and he was in it, looking thoroughly tired and miserable. He'd pulled a stitch after all, and they'd prescribed him diuretics to drain the fluid, however small, that was gathering around his lungs again.

"Because, darling," Dorian said softly. He was actually exhausted, for he'd not slept well in nearly three days between Klaus being hospitalized, his own injured state, and making sure everything at the Eberbach home was perfectly in place for his Iron Major. "I didn't want you to worry until there was more need, and everyone agreed with me."

"So, no one thought I should know that a part of my lung was gone, or that there was a real reason for me to no longer smoke," Klaus said -- it wasn't a question. It was definitely a statement. "*Why*?"

"Because I didn't want to tell you until I knew how bad it was going to be," Dorian whispered.

Silence fell again, Klaus laying there with eyes flickering between closed and open, as if undecided on the issue of sleep. The results had come back in while he'd been in the hospital again, and it *was* cancer. It was the type that spread the slowest, it seemed, for lungs, and they suspected they'd cut it all out, but they wanted to keep a close eye on him in case it came back. "I'm going back on duty as soon as my chest has healed."

"Of course!" That was said as if there had never been any thought that he might do otherwise. /Anything you want, darling, just don't die on me without telling me that you love me, at least a little bit. I'd even settle for the hatred remaining, if only you'd be well.../

"I won't smoke anymore, and that... won't trouble me again," he went on, firmly, as if telling his body it wouldn't disobey him. Then another sigh, "I should have been told."

A sigh sounded, the blond thief shaking his head slowly. "I didn't want to worry you, Klaus. None of us did, but it was I who forced the others to it. If you're going to be angry, take it out on me."

"If my butler hadn't have let it slip, would I have been told...?"

"Of course!" That answer, again, as if there was no other. "You can't possibly think I'd keep it from you forever! Only, I was worried and I didn't want..." Words trailed off into nothing. "I didn't want *you* to worry."

"In the past few months I've been very slowly losing weight, and having trouble with a cough. I had no idea..."

Fingers lightly reached up, touched his before moving away, as if afraid to stay for very long. "The occasional check-up really won't kill you, darling. It might even save your life, you know."

"Apparently. But I'd just had a physical..." And those were supposed to be enough! Death wasn't a thing that scared Klaus -- but a slow, lingering death off of the field...? Yes. It frightened him terribly.

Those fingers touched his again, emboldened by the lack of rejection. "From now on, make sure it's a very thorough one, darling. Make sure they know about this. Please? Promise me. I..."

"You're scared, aren't you?" Klaus asked after a moment's thought. "Aren't you?"

"Yes." There was no shame in admitting that, was there? "Pervert or no, I *do* love you, no matter what you think. I... I couldn't bear it, if..." But no, he couldn't say it, couldn't even bear to *think* it!

"Why love me? I'm not interested in men," Klaus snorted. "You're wasting your time..."

The answer to the question came in the form of more questions. "Why love beautiful art? Why love anything?" The depth of sorrow apparent in Eroica's eyes was impossible to deny. "You may always hate me, but I... I can't *not* love you. Even when you hurt me, even when you humiliate me, even when you break my heart. I only do."

For a flicker of a second, Klaus frowned at him. "When have I humiliated you?"

"You think it doesn't hurt when you tell me how much you hate me? Call me a pervert, yell at me, even in front of your Alphabet? It does," Dorian told him, "and if it were anyone else but you, I'd have long ago done something awful to humiliate you back and left you to suffer the lack of my glorious presence, only... only you *wouldn't* suffer. *I* would. It's hopeless."

Klaus fell silent for so long it seemed he'd fallen asleep -- it would have been a fitting response to the outpouring of Dorian's heart -- but he spoke when Dorian moved to leave. "Eroica. Come here."

Silently, the Englishman turned, moving back to the bed and standing silently by the edge of it. "Yes, darling?" Anything Klaus wanted, Dorian would do, and he knew it even better than his dear Major did.

Slow, one hand moved sightlessly to rest on Dorian's arm, a firm grasp of the thief's forearm. "I... don't hate you, Eroica. I don't know what to do with you."

There was no helping the burst of intense hope that spilled over inside of him, accompanied by the slightest of smiles. "Only never truly mean to make me go away, please. I think I would die if you sent me away and meant it," he whispered.

Klaus's hand lingered for a moment, and then he gave a little cough, letting it drop away. "Good night, Dorian."

"Good night, my love. I'll be back to annoy you in the morning," the beautiful blond promised with a smile.

Klaus didn't relax again until Dorian had left -- and even then, it wasn't real.

Cancer. It killed and it would certainly cripple his career, what was left of his chances of moving up the ranks. Then there was Dorian... just another fucking cog that his wheel didn't need to be dealing with at the moment.

Still, Dorian was there, and he wouldn't go away, no matter how much Klaus wished that he would. That was the thing about the Earl of Gloria -- he was disgustingly, horribly, eternally persistent, no matter what anyone else might have liked. If Klaus told him to go away, he'd likely ignore him. Of course, if he told him and *meant* it, with what Dorian had just said in mind...

But could he bring himself to mean it?

~~~~~~

"Good morning, darling!" Dorian said cheerfully, breezing into Klaus's sick room. His clothes of the morning were not quite as trashy as they usually were -- a pair of pants so tight they surely cut off circulation and a white shirt with flowing sleeves reminiscent of a pirate's accompanied by a red sash tied about his waist. His feet, once again, were conspicuously bare, and he held balanced upon his right forearm a tray with two plates full of eggs, toast, what smelled suspiciously like bacon, a carafe of what was undoubtedly coffee, and a teapot. "Time to rise and shine!"

"'s too loud," Klaus grumbled. He was an early riser by nature, but there was early, and then there was *insane*.

"Hmm, it's almost seven! Don't you want to at least eat breakfast with me?" Dorian cajoled.

"Half a moment," Klaus groaned, starting to sit up slowly, careful with his chest this time. *Seven*? Then he was running late; the sickness was the cause of it, though. Mornings were bad, because everything seemed to settle in his chest overnight, making the coughing and breathing of his daily efforts harder than they were the rest of the day.

"I have coffee for you. That will help to loosen things up a bit, hm? Heat always does seem to help." He also had tea for himself -- he preferred it, first thing in the morning. "Would you like to visit the loo first?"

"God, I can do that on my own," Klaus muttered, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and standing up, having to stop for a moment to cough. "I'm going to shower. Leave my coffee alone while I'm gone."

"Of course, my love," came the demure reply, Dorian now pouring tea into his cup carefully. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything to it. Really."

"Really?" Klaus snorted, tone more of doubt than of question as he padded quietly into the hallway, and across to the bathroom to begin his daily ablutions.

By the time he came back, Dorian had obviously been out and back again, for oatmeal had been added to the tray as well as a lovely, fresh red rose. "Welcome back, darling. Breakfast is all ready, and I didn't touch your coffee. I swear."

He looked better, the shower and clean, non-hospital shampooed hair having done wonders for how he felt. "The rose, Dorian...?" he asked, moving back to the bed to sit down and eat.

"Just because," Dorian said, smiling slowly. "Only because I'm happy that you're feeling better. An indulgence, if you will."

"You're keeping it," Klaus snorted as he picked up the coffee and the toast. "Where are you hiding your men...? They haven't been underfoot."

"Busy," Eroica dismissed easily. "I sent them home. James made an awful fuss about it, but then, he still did what I told him to."

"So you're here alone...?" It didn't seem like Eroica, but he was glad that there were less people there than he'd thought. Even feeling better, there would have been no way to protect his family's art collection from a pack of thieves, short of multiple murders. "I didn't want you to spend all of your time *worrying*, darling. That's just what I was trying to prevent, you know!!" Dorian told him firmly. "Would you like anything for your coffee, love? Really, how you drink it that way...!" Black, no cream and only a little sugar, when Dorian's looked full well as if half of the cup was made up of the latter two!

"It's best this way," Klaus told him, cradling the steaming cup in his hands -- hot, and black. Pure perfection. "Coffee wakes one up." The hot liquid would make his chest feel better, too, just as the quick shower had. As he took the first sip, he half realized what Dorian had called him -- then decided it not worth the effort to so belatedly yell at the thief.

"Oh, right, yes, you're right, your chest," Dorian said thoughtfully. "But no cream..." He shuddered slightly. "Well, to each his own, darling."

"It assures no one drinks it on me, too," Klaus went on, sitting back against the headboard. "How long will you stay here, Lord Gloria?"

For a second, he saw a visible pause before the tall blond thief smiled brightly. "Oh, a while longer yet, Major. I want to be sure that you're up to your usual crankiness before I abandon you, you know. Besides, if I leave too soon, you'll just have all of your Alphabet here to boss, and why make the lot of them suffer through your temper when I'm already accustomed?" he teased.

"They said I am mostly healthy and that this should not trouble me again. You will not *need* to be here for very much longer." Even though, he'd just so recently gotten back from hospital! He still felt tired, and he'd only just gotten up -- but there was no need for Lord Gloria to see that!

"Of course," Dorian answered smoothly. "I won't trouble you for very long, Major." Even though the thought of leaving was terrible. Damn Klaus, anyway! He'd been in love with his Major for years, had forsaken half of his friends and all of his lovers, and he was still no closer to winning him, even so much as once!

"Thank you for that," Klaus murmured. He was steadily draining the coffee cup, and set it aside on the table with less than a sip left in it. "You've been behaving."

The response was lightly spoken, as if it wasn't true. "You'd kick me out if I didn't, now, wouldn't you, darling? And I'm not ready to go just yet."

"I might have kicked you out." Hard to admit that, but it was true -- he didn't *completely* want the thief gone. He just wanted to stop being pestered. "I still haven't thanked you for your work on the mission."

"There's no need, but thank you all the same," Dorian replied cheerfully. "James has made certain that we were paid for it. Well," he said, still smiling, "you KNEW he would, Major."

"Of course." There was a blessing -- his health had prevented *him* from being the one to get the brat's bill to go over. Probably A ended up with the job, poor fool... "Will you be willing to go on further missions with me...?"

"Haven't I always been?" came the soft question. "Don't fret, darling."

"I am not fretting." Though, from the frown on his face, he seemed to be! Shifting again, Klaus brought a hand up to cover his mouth, stifling back a cough. "You are the one who has been fretting."

"Mmmm." That passed as agreement before Dorian brought out a blue plastic box with several little separated tops. "Time for meds, darling. The doctor insists, and it's best if you take them with breakfast. There will be more in the evening, you know."

"Tell me what I'm taking, as I take them," Klaus warned, reaching for the glass of water Dorian had brought up with him.

"I've got them all set up!" Dorian protested. "And I'll tell your staff before I leave. The big white one is the diuretic, the red one and the pink one are antibiotics. The little orange one is for assisting with your breathing, and there's also an inhaler, to open the bronchial tubes. The smaller white one is aspirin -- it's good for your heart, darling, so don't fight me!" Dorian said sternly. "And the pink and grey one is for pain, and don't tell me you don't feel any."

"The pain isn't so bad." Except when he moved too fast, or bent to the left side of his body, which he was conspicuously avoiding doing. "Hand them to me, then."

The medication was handed over and Dorian watched as he took them, almost afraid that if he DIDN'T watch, Klaus wouldn't take them. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it, now?"

"I didn't claim there was anything bad about taking them," Klaus growled quietly after he drained the water-glass and set it back.

"Well, no, you didn't, but *I've* never been partial to meds, so I don't see why you should be." And God, everyone Dorian knew took SOMETHING, from vitamins to quite a lot worse... "I shouldn't like it at all."

"I won't have to do this for much longer," Klaus shrugged as he settled back down. "It's an end to a goal."

"Of course." And *damn*, wasn't that just irritating? Having the damned thief agree with him was even worse than having him *annoy* him!

He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn't... "Since when have you become a 'yes man', Eroica?"

"Since I want you to get better," the thief said calmly. "Is there something that you'd like to do today that we can do in here? Nothing strenuous, mind," he murmured with a wink, as if implying exactly what Klaus thought he was implying.

It gained him a sour look for his troubles. "I'll read today."

"I'll bring you the book that was beside your bed," Dorian told him with a remarkable twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you." And he wondered, suspiciously for a moment, if Dorian had gone and switched the historical novel with something else.

The thief hadn't, though it had been awfully *tempting* to replace it. He didn't want to place poor Klaus under any more strain, though it would have been so amusing to see him yell... /Well,/ he thought with a sigh as he handed it over, /perhaps later./ "Is there anything else you'd like? Chocolates? Fruit?" /Me?/

"Quiet?" Klaus asked with the most remarkable of sneers.

"Of course." He gave in graciously, even though that expression hurt! "I'll be back when it's time for supper. Someone will bring you lunch," he said softly, though he'd not intended that to be so, only... only for the moment, he thought he'd hide and not think about that look for a while, perhaps lay down and rest himself. He wasn't entirely well yet, though at least his face hadn't been bruised badly or broken, and he'd been so wrapped up in making sure that the ungrateful Major was well that he hadn't been tending to himself! In his own forgivable stresses, Klaus had probably forgotten that any damage at all had been done to Dorian. "I'm sure you won't miss me while I'm gone." It was said with forced cheer, but cheer nonetheless as the door half-shut behind him.

~~~~~~

Somehow, that comment had bit into Klaus's mind, and hadn't let him rest through the day; he'd napped, if restlessly, and the pain had been stabbingly annoying, with nothing to detract from it but a book he'd read too many times already.

Still, it was evening now, and distraction was certain to come -- indeed, it did, with the sight of Eroica pushing open the door and stepping inside. He'd changed again -- that was inevitable with Eroica -- but for once, it was nothing more or less simple than a pair of jeans and a black sweater, even if it *did* look like it was angora. "Supper is served," he said breezily, turning on the lights. "Heavens, darling, you've been trying to read almost in the dark! That can't be good for you, you know."

He admitted, if slowly, "I wasn't really reading."

"Oh?" That was a sound of curiosity, truly, as Dorian settled the tray down and fidgeted with plates and glasses, settling Klaus's on his bed-tray first. It was steak with cut new potatoes, tossed salad carefully placed in a bowl to the side. Wine of any sort was conspicuously absent -- indeed, he had instead a glass of water and a cup of tea, and there was a pot on the tray should he want more. "What were you doing in the dark, Major?"

"Trying to sleep." It didn't sound like he'd been very successful, just from the man's tone of voice, as he sat up a little, pushing the bedclothes down around his waist. "I hate sitting here all day."

Eroica settled the teapot down on the table where the tray had lain and sat with the tray now in his lap, his own supper remarkably like Klaus's. "Well, perhaps tomorrow, you'd like to do something else," he suggested. "Your attics are full of interesting things, Klaus. If you like, we could spend some time there going through old things... or, if it would bother you very much to do it with me, perhaps some member of your staff could go, instead."

"No... I would be willing to do that," Klaus murmured. It would, at least, be something to do, and when Dorian was intent on artwork, he wasn't intent on *him*.

That brought a smile, and it was strange for him to realize that it was Eroica's first of the evening. It seemed that the other man was always smiling, often laughing, and usually at ~him~. "Excellent. I won't wake you quite so early, since you're having a bit of trouble sleeping. I've got a pill for that, as well, if you like," he said, beginning to eat, paying attention to the tray. "And if you need your pain medication more often, let me know? You can have it every six hours. I'm sorry I didn't mention it this morning, Major."

"That might be what I needed," the Major sighed quietly. Well, he'd gone and killed Dorian's mood along with his own -- it didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it made his own mood drop a bit farther down as he stabbed listlessly at his plate for a moment.

"You really need to eat, darling," Dorian told him firmly. "I don't mean to be a wet blanket, truly, only I've only just woken from my own nap. I'm a bit tired, still." And hurting, too, because he was just a tad stiffer than he'd been this morning.

"Where are you staying in the residence?" Klaus asked, finally spearing a piece of potato and putting it in his mouth to satisfy his own hunger, and Dorian's want for him to eat.

The blond man glanced up and said, "Oh, upstairs, near your room." Actually, he was staying *in* Klaus's room. The bed had been too big to bring downstairs, so they'd brought another. It wasn't such a terrible sin to want to sleep where his beloved usually did, was it?

"It is warmer down here -- if you were not on the third floor, you would stiffen up less." Klaus sounded the voice of experience in that, strangely enough, but how had he guessed...?!

"Is that an invitation to sleep with you, darling?" Dorian teased, eyes suddenly alight with humor. "I think your servants would slaughter me if I made them bring *another* bed down, you know!"

"I am not suggesting you sleep *with* me," Klaus growled. "Just that it would be easier for both of us to be on the same floor."

The lovely thief's eyes were still alight with humor, though, and so perhaps the night wasn't lost entirely, after all. "Ah, but darling, I could show you delights undreamed of by other men," he promised teasingly, leaning forward slightly despite his stiffness. "Are you certain?"

"How many times, Eroica, must I tell you no before you realize I mean it?" Klaus asked with a sigh, stabbing another potato. "Eat your supper, and then tell my servants to move another bed down."

"You'll have to tell me forever, darling," Dorian said sadly, "because I'll love you just that long." Supper might as well have been ashes, for he couldn't bring himself to eat it. "I've left your medicine. I'll have to go find it..."

"Don't bother. I have a butler for a reason, though if he knows the reason any longer..." Klaus sighed, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt a cough building steadily in his chest, threatening to rise up.

"It's all right," came the quick answer, Dorian already on the rise, though stiffly. "I know where I left it. I'll be right back, truly." Now Klaus watched him with hooded concern, as the thief left. No, he wasn't happy at all anymore; wasn't even bothering to try to fake it. And it was surely all Klaus's fault. /But why feel guilty because I can't love that fag thief...? I'm not that way, and even if I were.../

Even if he were, Eroica was still a thief, and he was still a NATO agent. But he wasn't that way...

It took only moments for Dorian to return, infamous smile plastered on again. "Hello, darling, found it with ease. I'd left it next to the bed this morning. I knew I must have done something terribly silly with it, and then I had to track down the sleeping meds. Take it all with food, if you please. It's best that way, hm?"

"Are you taking anything...?" Klaus asked after a moment, putting forth the effort to try a piece of his as yet untouched steak.

"Pain meds," Dorian said. "An antibiotic for a cut that required some stitches. I'm afraid that's why I didn't bring you lunch. I was a bit groggy." That wasn't too much of a stretch, really. He HAD been a bit sleepy, once he'd taken his medication!

"You'd planned on being groggy, though...?" Klaus's voice wasn't suspicious -- it was more worry than anything. What if, dammit, the thief was neglecting himself, or abusing the medications...?

"Yes," Dorian replied airily. "I didn't take the pain meds at all the day before because things were so busy, and I knew that the effects today would, therefore, be unpleasant." It was a rational explanation, surely!

"Oh." Klaus seemed to take it, or at least not bother pressing the issue. "Then you shouldn't worry so much about me as you should yourself."

"Why not just recuperate together? I'll keep you entertained if you'll do the same for me," Dorian offered.

"I don't know how to... entertain you," Klaus said truthfully, looking at dinner with a feeling of nausea for a moment, before moving to just take his pills.

Dorian was smiling, though, and he was eating again. "Just be yourself, darling. I'll try not to get upset, hm? It's the meds, truly. We'll go upstairs tomorrow, and it will be all right. I'll set the maids to dusting so it won't bother your lungs."

"What's left of them," Klaus grumbled, drinking the water, then looking at his plate again, trying to find it in himself to finish it.

"Eat some of your salad, Major. I promise, green things won't kill you."

"Are you sure...?" Klaus nearly bit it out, but refrained as he took a stab at that, too.

"Quite certain," Dorian replied. "Besides, if you eat it, I'll let you have something for dessert."

The Major put his fork down suddenly, to glare at Dorian. "I'm not hungry and no amount of 'bribery' will change that." With a roll of aquamarine eyes, Dorian gave a sigh. He just wasn't meant for dealing with the ill!! "All right, darling, you can have dessert now, if you like, or not at all, if you would prefer. I only..." Well, he'd only wanted to make Klaus smile, but that was stupid of him, wasn't it? "I only meant to let you know that there *was* dessert, if you wanted it."

But the miserable bastard wasn't going to smile, it seemed, unless he wanted to. The plate was put aside entirely, a waste of good food, and Klaus shifted with a many good winces to lay down again, and try to sleep. "Good-night, Dorian."

"Good night, Klaus." Ah, it was said so tenderly, and the urge to kiss his darling, grumpy Major goodnight was a bittersweet sorrow that chased through him as he gathered the plates and the teapot, too. "Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning, and we'll explore, hm?"

"Yes..." And in the morning, he'd make an effort to be better to the thief -- nicer, kinder... anything he could manage.

With that, the lights were turned off and the door gently shut behind Dorian before he headed to the kitchen to drop off the tray and from there, back upstairs to Klaus's room to climb in the bed, where at least he could stay while his darling Major didn't yet know.

~~~~~

"LOOK at this, darling! It's incredible!" Dorian cried, delving into the bottom of a wide trunk.

"What knick-knack have you found now...?" Klaus moved from the chair he'd been sitting in, over to the thief to see what he was peering at.

Carefully, Dorian pulled up costumery from what appeared to be the late sixteenth century -- the clothing of the Man in Purple. "It's his *clothes* darling, and there are... oh, my, there are other things, too, oh, dear, I don't think you should look in here, after all!" Even Dorian's face was flaming as he peered inside, but it was mostly from the thought of what Klaus might do or say when *he* saw it!

Old, old clothing, that looked as if it would break and shatter in seconds of any touch at all lay close to Dorian's hands. "Nothing could be so horrible, and still be in the house here..." Unless Dorian had picked a lock to get into the trunk, and then who knew?!

"You don't want to see it, darling, really!" Dorian urged as Klaus peeked over the edge and into the trunk.

The Major looked in for a moment, and then quickly backpedaled. In the trunk there was!!! A...!!!

"I warned you, darling," Dorian reminded him, shaking his head. Laying inside the trunk were, he was already certain, a GREAT many things -- indeed, leather straps so old they might as well be dust with silver buckles tarnished down to almost nothing, not to mention the gathered writings which Dorian knew at first sight to be rare and erotic titles, and the various other no-doubt entertaining items buried beneath -- but there was ONE thing which he knew had nearly sent poor Klaus right over the edge.

It laid there, innocent-enough in its open bed of dusty red velvet, old ivory that gleamed with the yellow-white glow of all such beautiful old things. Indeed, it was a work of art, if you got right down to it, for the thing was carved with little symbols and what appeared to be Sanskrit, he was nearly certain. The words were words of love and the pictures were little intricate glimpses of sexual couplings -- obviously, since the dildo was beautifully made and obviously well cared for, despite its having lain centuries in a trunk. "Sorry, darling. I tried to tell you," he said again.

"Why did you call me over here, if such things were in there?" Klaus bellowed quietly, still five steps back from the trunk. What *was* that? Who in *his* family would have owned... such a thing!

"I didn't *know*, darling, honestly! I only wanted to show you the clothing! I mean, I did pick the lock on the thing, true, but EVERYTHING in here is locked, and there wasn't anything naughty in the first two! You know," Dorian said thoughtfully, "it must have been *his*, though -- your man in purple."

"*Your* man in purple! I could care less about that painting!" Klaus told him flatly, still not nearing it.

Dorian glanced back at him. "Well, you know, darling, you really *ought* to let me have it since you dislike it so. Look," he said, peering inside again. "A diary! How remarkable!"

"What perverted things it must hold," Klaus sighed, moving back to the chair. "Unless it covers his warfare exploits, I don't want to hear it..."

"Tell you what, darling. I'll read it and let you know, hm?" Dorian asked eagerly. "Would that be all right?"

"Fine, fine -- read away," Klaus snorted, waving a hand at the thief as he sat back down, ready to just glance around for another few hours while the thief burrowed happily.

"Glorious!" Dorian sighed, setting the diary down. "Are you sure you wouldn't like some of these? They're lovely stuff, classic porn, darling, SERIOUSLY classic. First edition quality and terrifyingly rare, really..."

"Out of all the people to ever go through this attic, you would find porn," Klaus pointed out, shifting again, restless and tired, before he got out of the chair again to go look at the weaponry on the far side of the room -- old, dusty swords and guns...

At that, Dorian couldn't help but laugh. "Well, darling, it was here to *find*, don't you know," he said cheerfully, shrugging.

"As you..." His voice trailed off into coughing, but it didn't stop him from wandering to the other side of the attic, to look through the guns again, swaying dangerously as he walked until he could support himself on a piece of old 'antique' furniture.

"Let's go back downstairs." The words were said slowly, solemnly. "I'm awfully tired already, and I know you probably aren't, but all of this dust can't be good, either..."

Klaus had wanted to take another look at the sword on the wall, check the edge, and what a good cleaning would do for it... "What do you want to do until night, then...?"

"A nap wouldn't hurt either of us," Eroica pointed out calmly. "We're still getting well, you know."

"Are you going to move downstairs, or not...?" Klaus questioned him, leading the way down the narrow steps that would put them on the third floor.

"Probably not," the blond thief murmured. "It would be a lot of trouble for your staff, and they aren't as fond of me as my own, so I'd just as soon not push it, you understand."

"It would be easier for everyone if you were to, though..." Still, Klaus wasn't going to press it -- else it would seem to the thief as if an invitation to bed with him, which it wasn't. It was a want to make Eroica more comfortable in his household.

"Oh, I promise I'm not making a mess, darling," Dorian replied. "I mean, there's little for your maids to take care of come morning." That was entirely true, for Dorian didn't want Klaus to know that he was sleeping in his bed!

"No, I mean..." Hell, he didn't know *what* he meant! Setting foot on the floor at last, Klaus moved a little forward, waiting for Dorian. "Find anything you want to keep?"

"Oh, maybe. I want to read the diary first, darling, and see what's in it, but some of the other things in that trunk, maybe. I mean, the books *are* something else, really, they are..." Not to mention that dildo, which was a beautiful piece of work!

"I would wager his diary is nothing more than a log of events," Klaus murmured. No relative of *his* would have ever done more!

Dorian just smiled, though, an almost dreamy expression on his face. "Well, we'll see, darling. After all, you never know! We might at least find out quite a bit more interesting history on your relatives, you know. Diaries and old letters are marvelous things!"

"Why... don't we read it after supper?" Klaus asked after a moment, walking with familiarity down the hall, towards the stairs.

Oh, that made Dorian so happy he could have floated down the stairs instead of mundanely treading down beside Klaus. "That sounds marvelous! A peek into sixteenth century life, among other things," he said with a smile. "How utterly delicious."

"I never thought you would find history appealing," Klaus mused as he took each step with a careful precision, hand already on the rail.

"Of course I do, dear-heart!" A sniff came from the blond man, but it was distinctly teasing. "History and art are inevitably wrapped up around one another, bound together as much as..." As you and I, he had started to say, but he wasn't in the mood for Klaus's yells. "Well, as Atlas is to holding up the world, say. It was inevitable, really."

"Inevitable." Dorian was such a romantic, hopelessly so... Klaus led the way down that set of steps, and then down the next, finally getting them onto the bottom floor. "Are you feeling better today than yesterday?"

"Yes. Less stiff, thank you. I took an electric blanket to bed. Sweat dreadfully, but at least I didn't feel as if I'd been beaten again when I got out of bed," was the answer, definitely amused. "And you, darling?"

"Better," Klaus lied fairly well in his own opinion, sitting down on the second step from the bottom. It was a nice view, the marble was cool, and it was a casual position to take.

Eroica seemed to accept that even as he sat down beside him, leaning back against the other steps, draping himself over them in an infinitely graceful and beautiful way. "Hmmm," he agreed. "I'm very tired now, though. Thank you for letting me rest a moment." He wouldn't dare suggest that it was Klaus who needed the rest!

Klaus let his gaze drift to the side, looking at Dorian for a fraction of a second. "You're welcome, Dorian."

Thick gold lashes shadowed the cheeks there, Dorian's face beautiful in relaxation. Lips parted just slightly, his golden curls riotously spilling over the stairs. "I could fall asleep right here," he said, and the realization that he WAS awfully sleepy came to him even as he clutched the diary more tightly.

"I know... that I could, if my chest didn't hurt," Klaus admitted after a moment. "Being so tired is odd for me. I'm not accustomed to this..."

"It will get better," Dorian promised quietly. "Only you really have to give it time, darling. Most people aren't out of bed for weeks when they have the sort of surgery you've had... Let's go on down the hall, shall we? It isn't that much farther to the bed..."

"It's so hard to breathe sometimes..." Klaus brought himself to his feet on his own, though, a stunt that only he could pull -- standing tall, though leaning on a table at the bottom of the steps -- and waited for Dorian to rise, too.

The other man's movements remained slightly stilted, but he was up, as well, and yawning slightly, thick leather-bound book held in his hands. "Perhaps I'll even manage to make it as far as a couch before I fall asleep," he said jokingly. "And to think, it's only a little past lunch!"

"There's a couch in the parlor, if you wish," Klaus offered, walking beside the other man on the way down the long hall.

"That sounds just perfect," Dorian said drowsily, yawning again. "Oh, dear!"

"How much medication are you taking?" Klaus asked seriously, giving Dorian a pointed look for that yawn.

"Just what they told me to. I told you, I don't like meds, darling. Even as a child, a tablespoon of medication could put me right to sleep, and that's not changed very much. I wouldn't dream of taking too much and dying on you," he said lightly.

Klaus was snorted at, and then he turned the corner into the parlour, which was serving as a bedroom. "Lay down on the couch -- that way I can keep an eye on you." Dorian was still partly his responsibility, wasn't he? If he hadn't been on that mission, it never would have happened...

"I promise I'm not dangerous," Eroica said, yawning again and trudging towards the couch fairly obediently. He wasn't sure he could keep his eyes open for much else! The book was laid on a table and then he deposited himself on the couch, drawing in a deep sigh as he nestled comfortably into it. "Mmmm..."

Klaus moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, feeling tired and winded for a moment. It was safe to feel that way, since Dorian was already curling up to sleep... "Have a nice nap, love," Dorian murmured, eyes only slightly open to peer at Klaus as he kicked off his shoes and began to lean back slowly into the bed. "If I'm not awake when you open your eyes, nudge me, and I'll go fetch supper for us both."

"I'll do that," Klaus murmured in a sigh of air, leaning back into the comfort of the sheets. He'd only sleep for a moment...

~~~~~

It was quite a bit longer than a moment, for when he next opened his eyes, it was entirely dark in the room, and sleep was difficult to abandon. The temptation to close his eyes again was there, but a distinct rumble of his stomach announced that it just might be supper time. If that was the case, Eroica wasn't awake yet, either, since the room was still dark.

"Dorian..." A slow drawl of noise drifted to the thief as Klaus stiffly shifted into a half-sitting lean. "Lord Gloria..."

"Hmmmmm?" Ah, that was an erotic little noise, wasn't it? Klaus decided that he didn't notice it, though if he had known how the sound of his own soft drawl had wrapped itself around Dorian's dreams, he would have bellowed. "'m awake... five more minutes..."

"Not five more minutes," Klaus pressed, louder now -- sleepily speaking, which was still as loud as most people's daily conversation. "Wake up..."

"I'm awake, I'm awake," Dorian said drowsily, forcing himself to sit up. "I'm awake. Really, Klaus. I am." He wasn't, though, for he could feel his head nodding forward again.

Dorian had never been the best of morning persons. It was unfortunately, evening, or at least, Klaus hoped it was -- he couldn't tell in the darkness. "Good."

"Hm." The sound of Klaus's voice was so good in the dark, made him yearn so very deeply... "Oh. You're hungry, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?" he was asked in turn. Then Dorian could hear Klaus moving, looking for something -- then the sound of shattering glass, and a distinctive 'shit' that turned into a wracking cough.

"Hold still, darling. Don't get up," Dorian warned. "I'll try to do something about it...." And naturally, they were both without shoes! "Look, I'll put on my shoes and turn on the lights and fetch someone to clean it up. I'll get your meds, darling."

Klaus didn't seem to be getting up, though, or even trying. He was coughing again, one of those unpleasant fits of it that felt like they were ripping up his chest from the inside out. He'd wanted to get the water before it got so bad, but there was nothing to do for it now.

"Just a minute," Dorian said, hurriedly slipping on one shoe and hoping that would do as he hurried for the door. "Ah! Ow, damn, oh, hell, hold on, hold on!" he said, yelling out the door, "Would someone bring some water! Quickly please!!!" Flipping on the lights, he sank into a chair and pulled a glass shard from his heel. "Well, if we get any more accident prone, darling, they'll have to just lock us up in a big room full of feather-padded walls..."

No reply yet, just more coughing, Klaus trying to nod, to say anything past it -- though, as soon as the coughing became manageable, the pain in his side made a presence, clear and sharp.

"Ah, God, I'm sorry, Major, they're not coming. I'll fetch some water from the bathroom, there's a cup in there, I'm sure, be right back!" Besides, he really wanted some gauze and alcohol, much as it would hurt...

On his way out the door, he found himself face to face with Klaus's butler. "Sir...? What's happening...? It's nearly midnight..."

"Oh, so sorry to bother you, but the Major needs some water and a glass has been broken. Gauze and antiseptic would be marvelous, please," Dorian murmured hopefully as he moved to sit back down.

The man looked confused for a moment, but finally gave up wondering how, and shrugged, leaving to fetch water, gauze, antiseptic, a rag and a dustbin. The Major had calmed some, laying back in the sheets with his jaw clenched tightly.

"Sorry, darling," Dorian apologized. "I didn't mean for us to sleep so late. When he's back, I'll wrap up my foot and scrounge in the kitchen for us. I know you MUST be hungry. I'm starving!"

"I... will help," Klaus told him at last, after a long, heavy pause. "Your foot..."

"It will be all right. Damn, that was stupid of me," Dorian admitted. "I should have put on my other shoe, but I thought you were going to choke before I could."

"No. It's just a cough," Klaus told him. A cough that strangely made him miss his cigarettes... ah, but he'd do without them, knowing what it could do to him. It brought a whole new meaning to the words 'dying for a smoke'. "I don't want you wandering the halls alone."

"Just in case I find something I like?" came the teasing response as the butler returned, handing Dorian his requested items before moving to sweep up the glass and water. "Oh, thank you."

"So, if something happens.." As had been their luck, for either of them. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Dorian said calmly as he wrapped up his foot, the butler finishing up quietly. "That does seem to be how things are going lately, doesn't it?" he said easily, almost as if he had read Klaus's thoughts!

"Is there anything else, sir?" The butler asked Klaus, as he took back the mercurochrome from Dorian, standing there with the swept up glass and water.

"No," Klaus growled in a particularly unhappy voice.

"We'll see to ourselves," Dorian informed him. "Nothing to worry about, toddle along back to bed now, so sorry to have wakened you!"

"We really overslept," Klaus sighed, leaning back for a moment, before he started to sit up carefully. "Let us have no more adventures today..."

"Definitely not," Dorian sighed, smiling as the butler left the room. "Let's go get something to eat, hm?"

"Yes -- let me just get up..." His own energy level stayed within a moderate area -- Dorian, however, swung from too active to under-active. It took Klaus a moment to slide his shoes back on, and stand, smoothing out his clothes. /Should have changed.../

Deciding not to put on his other shoe due to his cut foot, Dorian stood on the ball of it, instead, head tilted to the side. "Oh, Klaus," he said, a certain tender fondness in his voice. "Come here. Your hair is everywhere."

"Hmm?" That didn't quite make sense to him, as he moved closer to Dorian.

Slowly, hands moved up, smoothing black strands, tucking them behind Klaus's ears. "You've got a rat's nest in the back," Dorian said, "and me without a brush. It will be all right, darling. It's just you and me, and I promise not to laugh."

"There's a brush in the bathroom... Yours isn't too good, either." Though, the curls helped hide tangles, he was sure of it. "After we eat."

"Mmm," Dorian said in agreement, quite pleased with himself before he yawned slightly, stretching. "Ohhh, we slept so long!" he said as they moved out into the hall, being careful not to set his heel down fully. That would just be asking for pain, and while Dorian was many things, he was NOT particularly masochistic!

"Rummaging is tiring business," Klaus agreed in his own way. The stretch he gave was far more restrained than Dorian's, a movement of limbs that didn't move too much of his chest.

"We'll just make sandwiches, I think, and maybe warm a can of soup. Surely they'll have something like that, don't you think? How do you feel about tomato?" the blond asked him. "Then, we can read aloud for a bit, hm?"

"Yes. And I'll find that brush." They'd probably be awake for another three or four hours, and then sleep more until the next afternoon. Such a terrible feeling of wasting time that Klaus had! His companion didn't seem to mind it, though, and in the strangest way, the dark-haired German was becoming quite accustomed to the frivolous-seeming Brit. Indeed, Dorian almost revelled in their idleness, for whatever reason he might have. It really didn't occur to Klaus that it was because they were together and because they were being civil to one another.

"That sounds perfect."

It did to Klaus, too, and that disturbed him more than he was willing to let on. "We will have to become re-accustomed to normal hours, after this, Dorian."

"I've never lived normal hours, anyway, darling," Dorian chuckled. "But it would be awfully nice to stay awake for longer than three or four hours at a time, it's true."

"I am used to sleeping only that much, so this is an annoying change." He felt tired again, and noted that he should have just stayed in bed, probably just gone back to sleep, instead of following Dorian to the kitchen. "I can hardly wait..."

"'til you're back terrorizing your poor Alphabet again," came the teasing response as they walked into the kitchen. "Sit down, and I'll rummage about, hm?"

"There's probably something ready for us in the refrigerator," he told Dorian, sitting down on a stool at the island.

Opening the industrial-sized steel refrigerator, Klaus's companion almost had to laugh. It had enough food to feed a third world country, he decided, and right up front was a tray covered in green plastic wrap. "Good call, love."

"They cook anticipating that I and whoever else is here will eat three meals a day." Not that it happened often, if ever.

"I hadn't really thought of it," Dorian confessed, peering at it. "Cold chicken, potatoes, a roll and beans. Shall I warm it or shall we eat it as is?"

"As is will be fine." The less trouble, the better, and less chance that something could go wrong.

"Well, then, let's take it back. I'll read to you while we eat and be lazy and let the servants collect the tray tomorrow, hm?"

"It would be good if they did something around here," was the agreeing grumble, Klaus already getting to his feet.

Aquamarine eyes rolled slightly when Klaus wasn't looking. "It's my fault, really. I wanted to be allowed to be close to you, and this was truly the best way to do it..."

"At least with you here, there is someone to talk with." Hard to admit, but he didn't *talk* to his servants the way that Dorian surely would.

"AND explore with," Dorian decided. "Maybe we'll feel well enough again in a few days to take another crack at the attics. We'll let the maids clean a bit better and have someone take up really good chairs and perhaps even a cot or two. It's not unpleasantly cold or anything, so..."

"And this time we will split time evenly between knick-knacks and weaponry." Klaus was firm in that, but not unpleasant, as they started off down the hall again.

"Of course!" Dorian agreed. "Just as pleases you, darling. I wouldn't want you to get bored while I root around looking at dusty old woodcuts or something."

"I meant it when I told you that if you find something striking and worthless, you can take it."

Tentatively, Dorian murmured, "I wouldn't mind having some of the things in Tyrian's trunk..." Oh, one or two things in specific!

"You can take those perverted books." Why ever a relative of his would have something like that!!! Then again, Tyrian had been a notorious scoundrel.

"And the rest?" he asked slyly as they pushed open the door to the parlour and stepped inside.

Klaus paused a moment, then turned away, to go across the hall for a moment. "If it's filthy, you can take it with you."

"MARVELOUS," Dorian sighed loudly enough for Klaus to hear, already thinking of the lovely object, too lovely to sell and *much* too remarkable to set up in some shrine. No, he decided, it would be much better if it was used as it was meant to be.... A wicked smile crossed his lips. "I'll take care of it, darling. I won't let any of it bother you for even a moment."

When Klaus came back with a sturdy and comfortable looking hair-brush in hand, he just answered, "As long as I don't hear about it."

"Not a peep," Dorian promised, "I'll do my best!"

"Thank you." He sat back down on the bed, and after a look between Dorian and the chair the man was heading towards, and patted, once, the spot beside him on the bed. "Sit down and I'll untangle your hair."

THAT was a rather surprising development, and certainly not an offer that Eroica could bear to turn down! Carefully, attempting not to appear hurried, he settled on the bed and sighed deeply, waiting. "Thank you, Major," he murmured, closing his eyes. If he just let the feel of it wash through him when Klaus started, and used his imagination...

The Major's movements were steady, and unstoppable, just as Dorian had predicted they would be. He was surprisingly good at it, not jerking at knots, knowing when to pull the brush free and try it again; but he should know, given his own long hair. It was strange to feel those roughened hands working gently through his thick hair. By the time he was done, Dorian was nearly purring with delight, and barely capable of hiding his desire. "Thank you," he said again, voice husky, when the brushing stopped. "That feels much better. May I brush yours, now?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Klaus had fallen into a quiet contentment, glad to be doing something that wasn't really anything at all. He turned a little on the bed, as best he could, and held still.

The feel of Dorian's fingers came first, threading through tangles gently, straightening out the rat's nest their nap had made of his hair before beginning to use the brush. Tender would have best described it, light and easy until black strands flowed like silk beneath his hands, and he didn't want to stop -- no, he didn't want to, and so he didn't. Even though they were both hungry, he just kept brushing for another moment or two before finally saying, "There. Now we're presentable."

"Presentable to go to bed," Klaus murmured a bit wryly. He'd been getting the start of a headache before, and it had passed entirely with that delightful, slow brushing of his hair. No one else had ever done that before, and it felt wonderful. "Thank you, Dorian."

"You're very welcome," the warm voice came from behind him. "Shall we eat, now? And read a bit, I think."

"Yes..." He turned slowly, and found himself shockingly close to Dorian again. Rather than lash out, though, he just scooted back. "Where did you put the book...?"

"Hmm, on the table where.. Yes, there, where I put the dinner tray. Hold on, here, I'll..." He rose, graceful despite the wound to his foot, and brought their dinner to the bed. "Unless you'd rather eat on the sofa," he said.

"I don't really want to move," Klaus uttered with a small, barely hidden yawn.

"Then we'll stay here," Dorian murmured, removing the plastic wrap. The kitchen help must be awfully good, he decided -- silverware was on the tray, napkins, everything except tea, and they had water, so that would be all right. "Here."

"Thank you." Even cold, Klaus knew it would be good, filling, and that Dorian would probably enjoy it, too. It was better than British food, he was sure of that!

They ate together in silence, using fingers as much as their forks, for the cold chicken was determined that it would not be eaten! Still, it was a satisfying meal, and one they both enjoyed as much for the company as for the food. "If I eat another bite, I'll burst," Dorian finally sighed, patting his belly slightly. "That was wonderful."

"I think I could go to sleep right now," Klaus agreed, leaning to set the tray on the bedside stand. It was a stretch, though, and that movement made him wince. "Mmm... missed my medication time."

"I'll make sure they wake us, if we try to sleep through again," Dorian said, regretting that he'd not wakened. Drugs of any sort made him so *tired*... "Shall I read to you a while, now?"

"Yes, if you want to." The idea of a diary kept by his ancestor was intriguing, and there was no denying that Dorian had a pleasant voice to listen to...

Dorian smiled. "Let me move this, then, and fetch it, and you get ready for bed, all right? I won't look. You can go to the bathroom down the hall or something, if you want."

"I'm too tired," Klaus sighed, getting to his feet again, slower now. It took him only a moment to snag his pajamas, and then move towards the bathroom across the hall.

By the time he was done, Dorian was settled in, laying down on the couch again with reading glasses of some sort perched on his nose. They were pure vanity -- his eyesight was fine -- but he had to admit that they DID help take the strain off if he read for a very long time. "Welcome back, darling," he said solemnly.

The German man wore satiny pajamas, probably expensive enough to make James's jaw crash to the ground if he saw them. On Klaus, though, they certainly made Dorian's jaw threaten to fall. "Nnn." The other man was holding his left side, as he slid beneath the sheets.

"Here." Dorian rose, heart beating frantically at the sight of Klaus, so beautiful and masculine and *dressed like that*, and fetched his medications. "You mustn't let me forget things like that," he chided. "We almost did, you know."

"The pain was getting... I would have asked you soon," Klaus said, cutting himself off to save on pride as he accepted the pile of pills.

"I'm sorry, darling. I should have noticed," Dorian decided. "Here." That was the water he needed, and he watched Klaus take his medicine before taking anything back.

Every last damned pill, and the entirety of the water glass. "Have you taken yours...?"

"It's all upstairs. I'll take it in a bit, after I've read to you a while..."

Klaus frowned at him for a moment, then sighed heavily. "I'll fall asleep while you read. Just a warning to be polite."

"I'll keep an eye out," Eroica promised, stepping back to seat himself on the couch and opening up the diary, looking down. "Atrocious penmanship, darling. I'm glad yours is so much better," he said before beginning to read.

~~~~~

My life brims with blessings and curses -- often in the same breath I draw I find both, close on my heels.

Sometimes standing right before me.

To be perfectly honest about the matter, it's a wonder that the damnable pirate hasn't chased me down and chopped me to pieces as of yet. If I wasn't so good at what I do and if the British navy wasn't so large, I suppose he very well would have.

In my lifetime I have never seen a man with such a splitting of personalities. Each of us has a personal life and a work life, but he refuses to let the two collide!

More the pity for me, and more the blessing.

The whole matter is maddening, i' faith. 'Tis one thing and then another and never anything one expects at all! Perhaps that's what I like best about it all, in the end -- that unexpectedness, never knowing what will be shown to me from one moment to the next, maddening and utterly captivating. The ridiculous bastard. And all because of what I did to his family... Feh!

It was deserved of them. But that does not stop him from hunting after El Acon, from trying to turn a justice into in an injustice.

So when I next meet him, I never know which side he will turn to me -- his fists or his arse. Both are powerful things to have turned, but I prefer one to the other, more of his blood and flesh displayed than my own.

That, I suppose, is inevitable.

~~~~~

Klaus, though, wasn't even there to catch that ancient innuendo -- he was dozing, having slumped back into the thick pillows at the head of the bed.

"Poor darling," Dorian whispered, closing the book and marking his place carefully with a scrap of paper that he found in a drawer. "Sleep well, my beloved," he breathed, feathering a kiss over Klaus's brow before turning to walk away, shutting off the lights and leaving the door halfway open as he walked towards the stairs and up them. He was exhausted, and it was far past time for his own medications, too. /In the morning,/ he decided, /perhaps I'll read some more./

Morning dawned, brighter than it had been in a while, and Klaus was awake before Dorian. He had been awake before him for the past several days, even though waking up before him was eight in the morning. Still, before was before, and that meant that he had the opportunity for a leisurely shower and the chance to change the dressing on his chest. The gash still looked distinctly nasty, but he didn't feel his ribs grating together anymore. That in and of itself was a strange sort of relief, despite the slight drainage that remained, for lack of a better word, *nasty*. At least it was healing. Given another month, there wouldn't be a sign left on him that he'd ever had such trouble beyond a scar. It had been a month to the day since his last cigarette, and though he missed them, he was noticing things. His senses of taste and smell were coming back, slowly but surely, and breathing was certainly easier than it had been when it had all happened.

"Darling?" The voice was muffled, coming as it did from down the hallway. "He must be bathing," Dorian decided aloud, and the fact that he was talking to himself fairly amused Klaus.

Did the thief always talk to himself...? Probably. He certainly talked a lot, but it filled in for the times that Klaus just didn't talk.

"I'm here," Klaus called over the fall of the shower, switching from soap to shampoo to take his time cleaning his hair. Washing your hair in a sink could never compare to a good shower.

"Ohhh..." The sound said it all. "Well, I'll just go fetch breakfast, then, shall I? Bacon and toast and eggs just the way you like them!"

"Thank you, yes, I'd like that," he called out again shortly as he went back to shampooing his hair for long minutes before he rinsed it out.

By the time he was dry and dressed again, slowly, carefully, but without pain, Dorian had come back with breakfast and was standing by a window, looking out onto the fog and rain shrouded morning. "You seem to be in good spirits this morning," the thief murmured, teacup held lightly in both hands.

He'd re-dressed his wound, and it wasn't bothering him in the least. That had to be why... "Yes, I am. it's a good day and... ah, coffee. Wonderful." He swooped in on the poor cup, snatching it up.

Dorian only shook his head though, and smiled again. Once they'd reached a point in the diary where it had become 'unseemly', he'd stopped reading it to Klaus and begun reading it for himself. It made him sad, some, realizing that they shared ancestors who had been lovers, and in other ways, it left him inordinately pleased.

Mostly, it left him horny.

Well, a man couldn't have *everything*, he supposed. "Let's eat breakfast, shall we?"

"Yes; are we heading back up in to the attic today...?" It was nasty outside, so that ruled out walking the grounds as they'd done the day before.

"That sounds like a remarkably good idea," Eroica replied cheerfully enough, turning away from the window and moving to the small table that the servants had placed in the room four or five days before. He poured himself some more tea once seated and lifted the cover off of their breakfast. "You never know what else we may find! My, the things you have stored away up there, Klaus. Hasn't anyone gone through them, at all, recently?"

"My grandfather. Father has no interest at all in it; he's been living in Switzerland for a year now, so things have had more of a tendency to find their way and gather dust up there without him at least making sure things were clean."

"Perhaps we've done something good for our convalescence, at least," Dorian replied with a smile. "I've found everything quite fascinating."

"How much are you going to take with you when I go back on duty?"

"Just the one trunk, so far," Dorian replied. "Everything is beautiful, Major, but you're lucky. I've not been in the mood for thievery, of late." The mood for other things, however...

"I'm sure you won't lose your touch. You'll probably steal the crown jewels just to prove that being ill doesn't mean you're gone." The coffee cradled in his hands was a wonderful pleasure.

"Why, darling, what an exquisite thing to say," Dorian drawled. "Thank you."

"I'll be returning to work in a week; just desk work, for a month. Then they'll think about letting me go back to field work."

"But..." For a moment, it seemed that Dorian would protest, blue eyes widening, expression poised to do just that. He didn't want Klaus to go back to work! He wanted them to stay, just as they were.... "Well, another week will make it five. Most people wait at least eight, darling, but... of course, you're going crazy here with nothing to do." /Nothing but me.../ "I just hope you won't push yourself too much, hm?"

"Desk work for NATO is the most inactive thing in the world," Klaus sighed as he finished his coffee cup. "You put cream in this, didn't you?" It wasn't said even as a question -- just a statement of fact as the cup was set aside.

"Sorry, darling," Dorian admitted shamelessly. "It was only a tad. I got the wrong cup to start."

"That's all right," Klaus sighed, looking over to the thief. "It just seemed strange for a moment. And it reminded me how much a creature of habit I am."

"Hmmm." It was a sound of agreement, comfortable, though, and Dorian reached for a piece of toast. "Well, yes, perhaps, but still." Dorian wouldn't say that he loved him madly, that Klaus's way of being drove him to sheerly insane acts just to keep him on edge so that he could enjoy the only emotion he really got from his darling black-haired demon... oh, and wasn't that a thought? Not that Dorian hadn't been prompted to insane acts out of passion before -- after all, his obsession with art had certainly induced him to all sorts of wild actions -- but never quite like this.

The thought that companionship now lay very tenderly between them never once crossed his mind. "Are your eggs all right, darling?"

"Quite good -- did you burn them yourself, or did you let the cook?" Klaus had a habit of making jokes at the strangest times, sometimes inappropriate, sometimes when it wasn't really funny -- he had a dark, cynic's humor, and when he let it surface, it sometimes sank before the joke was said and done. It wasn't *meant* to be cruel... "I just realized, though, Dorian, that I've become used to having your company."

At that, blue eyes shifted up from Dorian's breakfast plate, landing squarely on him, taking him in as Dorian shifted his head to the side. "How remarkable," he spoke slowly, finally. "You know, I've really enjoyed myself quite a lot. I didn't... well, I rather thought you'd spend a lot of time shouting at me and me aggravating you, but it hasn't been like that at all, has it? And I'm glad!" he said with a fierceness Klaus didn't often see. "So glad!"

"I'd like to think that this... lack of tension could last longer than while you're here."

"Well, I promise not to start anything if that will make you feel better," Dorian said quietly. "I won't embarrass you, darling, or pressure you..."

"Pressure me...?" Klaus's head snapped up suddenly, looking at Dorian oddly. "About what?"

"Oh, about anything perverted or anything like that," Dorian replied, knotting his napkin in his lap. "If that's what you mean."

"If I were so perverted as you've suggested a few times, I would think I'd know by now," Klaus drawled without malice. "So I thank you for that consideration."

Unable to help himself, Dorian drew in a deep breath and sighed. "You're welcome, darling."

Klaus forked stabbed into the eggs again, and he coughed for a moment, before finishing them off. "Upstairs?"

"Mmmm," came the murmur of agreement, Dorian's own eggs left decidedly unfinished. "Let's do go. I thought I saw a *lovely* little Turner tucked away in a corner last time we were up..."

"Why do I have a feeling you're going to walk off with half the attic," Klaus murmured to himself as they moved towards the door.

"Because you're paranoid, darling," Dorian chided gently as they made their way up the steps. "You're always afraid I'm going to walk off with something, even when I tell you that I'm not. Really, if I was going to steal anything, I'd steal Tyrian." Oh, and he *would*, steal him and hang him on the wall across from his bed so that he could do nothing but look at him and think of Klaus, dream of Klaus...

"The Man in Purple?" Klaus asked for clarification's sake.

"Mmmhm. I *have* been after him for years," he reminded.

"I bet when you finally have that painting, you'll leave me be," Klaus mused. Strangely, that thought saddened him a little... but, well. He was used to Dorian there, harassing him.

"No, love," Dorian said softly as they kept climbing. "I'm afraid I never will."

"I think, Dorian, that you are the only person I can believe to hear those words from." What a picture that was -- him, retired and old, with Dorian still trying to get him...

It gained him a smile from the blond. "I'll be there always," he promised softly. "Right 'til you finally push me over the edge of some cliff somewhere or Interpol gets me."

"You know Interpol will never get you, Dorian," Klaus said with some assurance.

"Of course, but we'll let them keep having the fun of trying, darling," came the laughed response.

"No -- NATO pulls strings for you, Dorian. They will *never* put you away. But I didn't tell you that."

And by that, he understood -- NATO pulled strings for him, all right, and mostly likely because of (or, God save him, in spite of) his darling major. "I never heard it," he promised with a smile, holding back a sudden wash of some decidedly sweet emotion as they finally rose to the level of the attics. "Well, darling? Which end shall we visit?"

"Which one have we not been in before?" Klaus asked, looking at the doors.

"Hmmm. The far left end, I think."

"Then that one." Klaus moved decisively towards it, expecting Dorian to follow. "You could do a lot with your knowledge of art and furniture, Dorian. A lot that doesn't include stealing."

Dorian shook his head, following even though Klaus expected him to do so. "But it wouldn't be half as fun, and I really *do* love art. A man who collects legally must be rich, darling, and do you really think that James would *allow* me to buy the extravagant things I like? No," he said, shaking his head. "He'd never let me have a sou if I didn't steal them all!"

"If James is such a trouble to you -- and he is -- why do you keep him?" Klaus asked pointedly.

"Because who else would have him?" Dorian pointed out. "He's not such a terrible creature, and, well..." Dorian shrugged as they tried the door. Locked. "Hmm..." He pulled a set of picks out of his pocket and clicked the tumblers over easily enough. "Well, it would just be cruel, wouldn't it? Besides, he really is very good at forcing me to stick to a budget..."

"You could have asked for the key," Klaus said, in a slightly wide-eyed dead pan as he watched Dorian slip away his lock-picks. "I think you're just fond of him as a pet."

"Well... perhaps." Though which one he meant by that was uncertain. "I can't seem to find the light, and there are curtains or something over the windows..."

"There's probably a reason why this room is locked, then," Klaus murmured. Once, his father had told him that he'd found a very old, mummified body in the attic. It was quite the discouragement from ever digging through them. "Move in slowly."

"I'm not going to see anything truly disturbing, am I, darling?" Dorian teased. "Maybe I should fetch a lantern or something."

"Disturbing? I've no idea. This room could be filled with naked pictures, and I wouldn't know..." Klaus had finally reached the wall of the small attic room, and was feeling along it until he found curtain -- a yank parted the curtains, bringing with it light, dust, and Klaus's cough.

"Speak of the devil," Dorian drawled.

In fact, the room had quite a lot of interesting things, but the most prominent of them all was a painting that looked most remarkably like Dorian draped in nothing but gauzy veils.

"I didn't do it, I *swear*!"

The hair was different, straighter, longer if it was possible -- but the face and eyes were the same, and Klaus was too shocked to look at anything but that. Worse, he couldn't believe that Dorian *didn't* do it.

"Yes, you *did*," Klaus growled deeply, a hand over his mouth and nose to keep out the dust until he'd recovered from the cough still trying to escape.

"I *swear*!" Dorian cried desperately, shaking his head, golden curls flying. "Klaus, the dust in here and on that thing is an inch thick! I COULDN'T have done it!"

"Yes you COULD have!" There was no other explanation -- none at all! Why would he have a picture of a Dorian look-alike in his house... Why would there be one at ALL?!

The heartbroken expression rising on Dorian's face was terrible to see, though it was quickly masked by something else, as things so often were with him. "Of course I could have," he said dully. "Why, I'm Eroica. Sorry. I had forgotten."

"Why would that be there?!" Klaus went on, backing up some -- intent on leaving!

"Maybe because he and Tyrian were lovers," Dorian said softly. "It's why I stopped reading the diary to you."

"The pirate?" Klaus questioned, not looking at Dorian or the picture -- rather, something in between, far behind both. "Don't get ideas from this. Just because Tyrian was a sick pervert..."

"Doesn't mean you will be," Eroica finished for him. "I think I don't want to look any more today. I think I can't do this, here, today. I..." He stopped, turning sharply and heading out into the hall, looking for the stairs. "I can't," he whispered to himself, "I can't, I can't..."

"Dorian..." Klaus half-followed the other man -- half. He couldn't bring himself to do more than walk out of the room after him.

At the head of the stairs, the tall blond was paused, looking down and not truly seeing anything, his entire body tensed as if having some terrible inner skirmish that couldn't be retained. Finally, he turned, though, coming back towards the German man, pale and shaking slightly. "Let's shut the door," he said simply. "Maybe another room, today."

"Another room," Klaus agreed quietly, moving to close that door. He *hadn't* meant to upset Dorian, but the picture had certainly upset *him*...

Quietly, Dorian moved forward to shut the door, glancing within one more time. "I'll... shut the curtains," he said solemnly. "Just a moment."

No wonder he'd found no lights; the room looked as if it had been undisturbed for centuries, the portrait undoubtedly going to slow ruin beneath all of that dust, a shame for something so lovely, a Holbein if he wasn't mistaken. Almost as bad were the velvet curtains gone to tatters, a miracle they'd kept out any sunlight at all, and the exquisite furniture, right down to the rose-carved canopy bed that sprawled against the wall to the right -- a lover's bed, that, he had no doubts in his mind. /A place meant for pleasure and adoration,/ he thought sadly, twitching the curtains closed.

A moment was taken to accustom his eyes to the darkness and then it was easier to walk back to the hallway, towards the light, than it had been to walk into the darkness. Quietly, he shut the door behind him, knowing he'd be hard-put to smile at all later, but trying desperately for Klaus. What he wouldn't do for that man! "Maybe the one on the other end," he said simply, tucking hair back behind his ear in an attempt to belie trembling lips.

"We've been there before, but it would not kill to look again. That was where we were when we first tried, wasn't it?"

"Mmm," Dorian said in agreement, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We can look through the rest, maybe."

Klaus stayed silent, and he keyed open that door for Dorian, looking at the man for a moment before he moved out of the doorway. "I didn't mean to accuse you, Dorian."

"...I know." It was said softly, tiredly. "It's only automatic, and that's... that's my own fault, not one of yours."

"I'll help you move things if you see something you want to get to," Klaus offered gently as they did move into the room.

"Thank you," Dorian said softly as they moved into the room. "Thank you..."

~~~~~

Tiredly, Dorian dropped down into Klaus's bed, eyes closing. God, it was good to be taking a nap, especially with Klaus gone downstairs, especially after the shock of seeing Benidict. He'd known, of course, that Tyrian had been lovers with the man and that his description of Benidict was incredibly similar to Dorian, but...

Well. He hadn't been prepared for *that*. Who could have been?

So, it seemed that at some point in existence and time itself, there had been another Klaus and Dorian. Only, that one had ended terribly tragically, while this one had never started. Benidict had killed Tyrian... not that Dorian couldn't understand that, in some ways. After all, he had occasionally been very tempted to do in his darling Major, and that made him laugh a little. "Such creatures of habit are we," he whispered, reaching for the diary and opening it to a particularly favorite entry of his.

Tyrian had been a creative lover to Benidict -- used toys on him, odd objects to stimulate. Once, he'd invited in the household staff to watch him and Benidict have sex, and clean the mess as it happened. He was the opposite of the Major in that -- an exhibitionist who reveled in his own body, rather than hid it, and Benidict had been so very like himself...

With a sigh, Dorian laid the book down, closing his eyes, unable to do anything for the moment other than think of Klaus, doing that with him, to him, touching him, adoring him... but never, ever, ever leaving him, or breaking his heart, as Tyrian had done to Benidict in the end.

That, perhaps, had been one of the reasons why Benidict killed him, though there were so many reasons. Tyrian loved sex, reveled in it and the power it gave him over others, and had done it with so many, men and women... And he'd taken on a new male lover by the time Benidict had caught him again, on his prized ship, a crew-member. Was history repeating itself with the same players, only giving them different personalities...?

It was a fascinating thought, really, and one that made him yearn for just a moment to be held in that control, if it was Klaus's. Still... There *was* something of that power in the room with him, and even if it was only afternoon, Dorian didn't think he could deny the sheer *potency* of the thing any longer. He'd fought for weeks, ever since they'd first seen it, and a shiver raced through him at the thought of using it, and in Klaus's bed! /He'd kill me,/ he thought, shivering. /He would.../ Ah, but he'd cleaned the thing, all the same, carefully wrapped it in new velvet and dreamed of it and Klaus, or perhaps Tyrian and himself as Benidict, so many nights! In the end, perhaps, just perhaps... it would make him feel better, just a little...

Ah, it was all rationalization, but he didn't care, not really! All he wanted, all it seemed he'd ever been meant to have, were the hands of his beloved on him, touching him, tender the way he knew Klaus could be or rough the way he'd been *shown* he could be... shown a few times too often for his taste. Lately, though, he'd had his hair brushed out a few times by the man, touch gentle and soothing without knowing it...

To think, that the object in his hands had been used centuries before on his ancestor, by Klaus's!

The mere notion sent a thrill spilling down his spine, a whimper from deep in his throat as he pulled lightly at the wrap-around shirt he'd worn, fingers carelessly fumbling with the buttons of his pants to slide them free, to get his clothing off of him. He stood, momentarily, golden sunlight breaking through the rainy-day clouds for an instant, long enough to highlight every inch of him as it was bared before it disappeared again, leaving him naked in the gloom to crawl between the sheets of Klaus's bed and kick them almost down to the foot.

The thing he held in his hands was wonderful -- an object of ardour, made for loving someone with. Such a terrible pity that it had lain untouched by tender hands for so long!

With a sigh, Dorian turned on his back, skimming cool ivory down over his skin, belly arching up to it. Just imagining it, the conceivable touch of Klaus's hand, was enough for him with his eyes closed. When he wasn't looking, he could imagine that it was Klaus's hand holding the thing and not his own, Klaus touching him so tenderly, Klaus's fingers upon which he sucked and not his own. /God save me,/ he thought, drawing in a deep breath to give a slow moan. /I don't even have the self-preservation not to do this, in the end. Maybe I am as crazy as he thinks.../

Still, if he was, did it change things at all? Klaus still would never be his, and the touch of an ancestor's toy was far better than the nothingness he had now! That decision made him sigh and curl onto his side, pillow pulled down to support his face as the ancient object was carefully laid aside, his own hands on his skin, caressing slowly over hip and thigh, tracing up the back of one so that fingers teased lightly at a cheek, delicately avoiding the temptation of sliding one inside as he brought them around, instead, cupping his erection with ethereal touch as he groaned, unable to help himself. Ah, God, it felt so good, so perfect, so *right*, to be in Klaus's bed and to do this, thinking of him!

If the world was a just and good place, someday, it would be Klaus's fingers on him like that, teasing and touching, trying to coax from his body riotous reactions and softly groaned sighs. His cock would be inside of Dorian, buried within him, possessing him thoroughly. With a quiet cry, Dorian's fingers closed around his burgeoning flesh, others sliding slowly between slender thighs, touching delicate skin, teasing their way back to the opening there. So long since he'd had someone else touch him that way, so long since he'd taken more than his fingers as he thought about Klaus and sobbed in his own bed, and now he was here, and there was this, and how could he resist? He was in the Major's bed, where the man slept when he wasn't on a mission, not on duty in Bonn... here he'd probably slept since he was a child. This, the bed, the walls, the room, all screamed 'Klaus' at him, and he could in no way resist for so much as another moment, sobbing softly into the pillows as a single dry finger plunged inside, seeking and finding pleasure deep inside for a moment. His entire body seemed to be rocked from that simple and almost painful touch, and he groaned aloud, arching slightly before reluctantly pulling his hand away and reaching for the lotion he'd lain down on the bed.

He was ready -- well, not enough to be utterly comfortable, but enough to not feel a terrible pain. As long as he slicked the ivory toy well with the lotion... and didn't open his eyes, keeping the illusion of it being Klaus....

Eroica shifted, turning completely on his side, a foot propped on the bed, the other sprawled open, knee upon the sheet, as he teased himself with the tip, trembling and gasping slightly. It was cool, but not so much as to be uncomfortable, and when it broached the delicately resisting ring beneath the pressure of his fingers, he cried out, shuddering as it slipped inside. "Klaus," he whimpered, unable to stop the word from falling from his lips as he rocked his erection against his arm, other hand moving to stroke it even as the dildo slid in deep, brushing prostate firmly and nearly driving him mad. "Ohhhh, God!"

It felt good -- so good that those motions, repeated over and over, distracted him from paying attention to anything beyond the touch of that toy, the smell of the sheets. Certainly he didn't notice the opening of the door, excited as he was, golden hair a shroud, curls beginning to corkscrew with sweat as he whimpered, thrusting into his hand and back to the instrument his palm drove firmly into him, and only one word was on his lips, one word in his mind. "Klaus... Klaus... OH!!!"

Klaus had come upstairs from his own nap to find his pain medication -- it hadn't been in the room Dorian had told him he was staying in (and neither had Dorian been). So he decided to see if it was in his own room, and now found this sight before him.

"Lord Gloria," he bit out, not sure why he was saying anything at all, or how it passed his lips -- the thief... was... doing something terribly obscene on his bed, moaning his name... And God help Klaus if it didn't look alluring.

The sound of that voice was enough to drive him over the edge, though his eyes flashed open momentarily in pure shock before orgasm hit, body tensing as he came, curling into himself from the sheer joy of it, little sounds of pleasure and gasping breaths coming from him as he shuddered, sobbing softly once he realized Klaus had seen him, pleasant euphoria tattering quickly. /Oh, God, oh, God, what do I do?/

Klaus had not just seen him -- he had watched, and was still standing there as if frozen in purest shock. When he did manage to move, it was to that horrible feeling of having trouble breathing that lingered until he gave in to the cough, still looking at Dorian in unadulterated surprise -- what would he do? Yell? Hit? Ask for a reason, an explanation?!

"I can explain," Dorian finally whispered even though there wasn't any explanation, not even the vague hope of one, fighting back tears. God, Klaus was going to kill him!! He just knew it!

More coughing, as if his body were rebelling against the thought of hitting Dorian, and he slid to the floor, back against the doorjamb, so low that he couldn't see past the bedside table, or see Dorian. Thankfully. So wanton, on *his* bed!! "I don't think... that you... can..."

"I don't think I can, either," Dorian admitted in a whisper. "Klaus... I... I... please..."

"You... you lied when you said you were sleeping in your room. *This* is why you didn't move downstairs. You've been doing this all along, haven't you?" And he'd trusted the thief... "'m leaving. I can't..." He was going for a walk, in the garden. Anywhere. Rising to his feet with a bit of trouble, Klaus took a quick glance at his bed and the rumpled pile of Dorian and long blond hair, sweaty limbs and semen splattered on the sheets and his body. "Get the butler to change the sheets." Every ounce of betrayal Dorian had ever heard in Klaus's voice, over the years, was somehow compacted into that short sentence, as the man took off down the hall...

..leaving Eroica quietly sobbing into the pillows, regretting desperately that single terrible indiscretion...

The voice that answered was faint, barely heard. "Come in."

It cracked open at first, then Klaus stepped in. "Lord Gloria..." Calling him Dorian just then felt... too intimate.

"Yes..." The sound of Dorian's glorious voice was still faint, though Klaus was grateful to find that he was dressed, dark slacks and a long-sleeved dark blue shirt, unimaginably plain and normal. His hair was pulled back roughly, braided to keep it out of his way, and his face was so pale it seemed a miracle that he could stand, looking as he did. Ghosts might have been paler, but not by much. "I'm packed," he announced solemnly. "You don't have to throw me out, Major Eberbach. I would l..." He paused, swallowing hard. "I would like to most sincerely apologize for m..y indiscretion."

"For being a... the... der Scwule?" Klaus said at last, having grasped for what to say. God, but he needed advice on what to say, or how to say it... "Are you leaving...?"

"You were going to kick me out, anyway, weren't you?" Dorian asked, and he knew it sounded pitiful, and worse, he couldn't help the tears that welled up, spilling over and making him hate himself even more.

"I..." He stalled, and then moved forward, demanding sharply, "Don't cry!"

"I can't help it!" Dorian whispered shakily. "I told myself I wouldn't. I said it was stupid, and you'd only hate me worse for doing it, not that you *could* hate me much worse right now, and I still can't help it!"

"Dammit!" he snapped suddenly, pulling Dorian close by grabbing the collar of his shirt. "Don't cry!"

It had gotten free, though, and despite the hands so hard on him, despite the fact that Klaus was probably going to hit him again, he found that he didn't care, couldn't care for the force of the silent heaves of breath, the sheer concentration it took not to sob aloud as those tears streaked down his face and he trembled in the other man's grasp.

Klaus couldn't do it. He *wanted* to hit the thief, wanted to stop those tears, to erase from his mind's eye how the thief looked sprawled on his bed, fucking himself with that terribly old thing from the attic. And he wanted to get rid of Dorian, because something told him that if he were to send the thief away now, he'd leave forever! Or, did he even want him to leave at all? The companionship of the past few weeks was something Klaus had needed, wanted and enjoyed...

But none of those thoughts, for or against the thief, registered in Klaus's mind as he gave up the bruising grasp of Dorian, and simply held him. One arm around the man's shoulder, the other hand at the back of his head, and Klaus swore to himself quickly that if the thief tried to pet him up, he *would* kill the man. But how ever quickly a touch to kill could turn to one of comfort... "Don't cry."

The trembling that rocked against him was so fine, the stifled sounds coming from the other man absolutely hurting Klaus himself. For all that Eroica was... was gay, he was a man. He didn't cry. Even when scared nearly to death, he held himself together, and now, to feel those heartbroken little shudders of shame and perhaps even fear as he wept, arms caught carefully between himself and Klaus and not moving.... it was terrible. "S-s-sorry," Eroica hiccoughed. "I-I'm s-so s-s-s-SORRY!" How could he explain, that he'd only wanted to be close to Klaus, that he'd only wanted just that little bit of time where they were happy and to imagine himself held, loved, close in that bed that belonged to the man he loved easily as much as he'd ever loved anything in his life. Ah, he couldn't, and that made him sob all the harder, detesting himself for it, even though the feel of Klaus's hands turned gentle on him was a wonder, a miracle. "P-p-p-please..."

"Don't cry, Dorian," Klaus stressed again -- that fact, the knowledge that Dorian had held up so well under so much, to crumble at THIS...?! "Don't... just don't." The please was implied, but unsaid as he continued to hold the man, still not moving away or closer. Dorian's forearms were pressed against his aching chest, perhaps a little too hard for comfort, but so be it. "It... will be okay."

"It won't!" An absolutely choking sob broke from the other man as he shook desperately. "I sh-sh-shouldn't have d-d-done it! I n-n-knew, an-and I did it anyway! I n-n-knew you c-c-couldn't e-ever want mmmmme, a-and Iiii n-n-knew that I-i ha~ad to be c-careful, but I c-couldn't, c-couldn't, ssssstop it!" he wept, shaking his head frantically. "A-and I've b-b-been so *SCARED*!!!" His arms came up, finally, wrapping tightly around Klaus's neck, Dorian's face buried in his throat, "And I was so afraid that you would *DIE*!!"

Oh, God. It was too close now, too much of the crying, too much of Dorian, if that were possible...

"Die? No. I won't die," Klaus told him firmly, torn between trying to hold Dorian closer, and shoving him away. It forced his muscles into a state of non-movement, the war between his super-ego -- which was telling him that Dorian was a sinner, wrong and harmful to the world -- and his id -- which was telling him that he wanted to do so much more to the thief than simply hold him. After years of fighting, his id was starting to gain strength... "Calm down, before you make yourself sick..."

Trying desperately to get hold of himself, Dorian whispered wetly, "I can't help it. I'd die if you did, or if you sent me away forever. I... I'd just die... it would be the worst most horrible thing in the world..." And God, he knew he was opening himself up to the most intense suffering possible, but he couldn't stop it, couldn't not say it!! "I'd die without you..."

"Shhh..." He'd thought for the longest time, that the thief had been joking about his long-professed love. This seemed to only help his case... "I... I don't hate you, Dorian. I... just don't know what it is, or what to do..."

"Anything!" Dorian declared fantastically, shaking his head beneath Klaus's chin before moving, shifting, looking up at him, just a bit. "Anything, only please, *please*, don't send me away. Please!" God, he hated begging, but if it was what it took.... Tears spilled wetly again from those aquamarine eyes, and thank God Dorian was the sort of person who could cry as beautifully as he did everything else! No splotches of color, no red nose, only dazzlingly wet pink-rimmed eyes and a sniffle that was undeniable.

Unable to stop himself, Klaus brought a hand up to Dorian's cheek, touching the dampness there. "I won't."

The almost visible relief was achingly painful to see, trembling lips curving up in sheer unadulterated gratefulness. "Thank you," he whispered, eyes closing slowly. "Oh..."

"You need to calm down," Klaus whispered quietly. "And I need my medications."

Those dazzling eyes flew open again, suddenly guilty. "I'll find them!" he said hurriedly, sniffling. "I will, I, I think I've left them with your butler now, since... since..."

"You're not leaving before I do, Dorian -- not before I return to work," Klaus said firmly.

"Of course," Dorian agreed, looking at him wistfully. "Nowhere. I promise."

Well. Awkward had gone far beyond, and so Klaus took a step backwards, letting Dorian go. But he still didn't know what to say...

"I'm very sorry," Dorian said quietly, sadly. "I didn't think... ah. Well."

"Not..." He swallowed, looking around his room, decorated with weaponry, a few old antiques, books, a desk with a few personal effects, long untouched, scattered on them. Klaus knew he'd never again be able to lay on his bed and not think of Dorian writhing in pleasure on it. He started to move towards the door. "Don't come in here again."

"Of course." The shame on that face was almost unbearable -- Dorian, who'd never been ashamed of anything that Klaus had seen! "Of course."

Klaus led the way into the hallway, waiting for Dorian. "I..." He was *trying* to say something, God help him, but he wasn't sure what, or how!

"You don't have to say anything," Dorian told him, bags firmly in his hands. "Really. You don't. I... I understand, or at least, I have to, don't I? I made a stupid, terrible mistake and it's all ruined for you now, isn't it? I ruined everything for you..."

"I... don't know what you've ruined."

"Your being comfortable with me. Your thinking of me as something other than some fucking *faggot*, useless until you need me to steal something," was the soft, miserable reply. "It's all my own fault. I know."

Maybe Dorian did understand the picture he had imbedded in his mind, then. "You are... still the same person you have been for the past few weeks."

"Yes," the Earl of Gloria said slowly. "I'm the same person I've been always, Major. There's nothing false about that..."

"I... just finally stopped thinking of you... that way, and..." Then it was shoved right in his face again, worse than before, and he just didn't know what to *do*. Dorian wanted him, badly, but was now keeping it to himself, doing strange perverted things while alone...

Eroica finished the sentence. "And now you've seen something you wish you hadn't," he murmured, trembling again, now, as they stood in the hall, looking at one another. "I'm so sorry..." And he was, but the worst part was that he was only sorry that Klaus had caught him and not at all sorry that he had done it!

Klaus was perfectly still for a long moment, and then shifted away, towards the other stairwell to downstairs. The other wing of the castle. "I need... to think. I'll be in the gun room, if you need me... and don't leave, Dorian."

"Wait!" Dorian said quickly, sudden horrified visions of Klaus, upset, blowing his brains out and only being found later when Dorian went to look for him. "Wait..!" And, oh, God, why was he saying wait? What excuse could he give?

The other man was already taking quick strides off down the hallway, but stopped. "What's wrong?"

"I..." He searched for words quickly, cursing himself. He always knew what to say, always *had* something to say, so why not now?? In a burst of inspiration he said softly, "Let's go out somewhere. Let's go see something or eat somewhere. Let's just get out of here! Just for a while!"

"Go where?" Klaus asked, looking confused. "I... Dorian, I'm tired. I don't truthfully think I could manage to go out tonight."

"Just somewhere. Anywhere, some cheap roadside place, even, but not the gun room, all right?" Dorian pleaded, expression helpless. He didn't want him there alone or otherwise! God help him, Klaus might shoot him and *then* himself, considering how the day was going! "Or we can demand a picnic and go upstairs to the attic room with the Turner and... and eat there, maybe..."

For a moment, it looked as if Klaus were going to press the topic -- *why* not go in and clean guns...? It was enjoyable, calming, and would get him away from Dorian long enough to clear his mind a little! In the end, though, he acquiesced a little. "We'll eat in the library, then."

"That sounds wonderful," Dorian sighed, relieved. "I'll just... put these somewhere," he said, nudging his bags. "Next door or something, and then we'll go to the kitchen..." He began pushing his bags along the hall.

"*Downstairs*, as I have been trying to get you to do for two weeks," he was told, a bit stiffly.

"O...of course," was the reply, that shamed expression back again as he gripped the cases more tightly, face momentarily turned away.

At least downstairs, the only place Dorian could masturbate would be the bathroom... which was a slightly disturbing thought that was quickly pushed away. "I have a few phones calls to make -- do you want to help with dinner?"

"Sure," Dorian agreed quietly. At that particular moment, in that particular time, he'd agree to almost anything Klaus wanted except for being alone. "You won't be long?" he asked, almost not wanting to do so. God, he wanted to stay, and at the same time, he wanted to turn around and run forever, run until he could get home and lock the door to his own bedroom and never, ever come out of it again!

"I'll make the calls in the kitchen. I've been meaning to call my father," Klaus murmured, waiting for Dorian to catch up with his quick, long-legged stride.

If anyone had seen it, it would have looked like scurrying, though Eroica would *never* admit to doing such a thing!! "Ohh, that's even better," he said with a sigh, afraid to call Klaus the usual 'darling'. He was prone to calling everyone that, but he only truly meant it for Klaus. "We can both decide what to eat, then..."

"See what's already been made up," Klaus agreed as they went down the stairs. His chest was hurting terribly by now, and he wanted his medications, but that could wait a bit longer.

"Klaus..." Dorian bit his lower lip, reaching up to shove an errant curl back into his braid. "Are you very angry with me?"

"I'm confused, Dorian. I'm not angry at you, though." He was certainly angry at himself -- being angry at Dorian for being a horny faggot was like being angry at a cat for meowing. Cats meowed, and Dorian was a horny queer.

"Oh." That seemed to more or less kill the conversation, so they continued down the stairs where Dorian left his luggage at the foot and from there, on to the kitchen.

It was still not very late -- only early evening -- and a few members of the staff were still there and fixing supper for them, carefully avoiding mention of the racket so recently come from upstairs. "Oh, lovely," Dorian said, though his animated face was still blank, an unusual state of being. "We'll have it hot."

"When you've finished, you can leave for the day," Klaus dismissed, in a kind sort of way for him, as he moved towards the telephone to dial two numbers -- his father first, then Z.

Every last one of them looked at Klaus, looked at one another, and promptly decided that the world was coming to an end, their expressions almost enough to make Dorian laugh, and he did smile a little, seating himself at a table and watching what was going on around him. "Oh!" he said, remembering. "If someone could get the butler to bring the Major's meds, that would be good, too!"

Well, that was more like it! An order! One of the women rushed off to find the old man, and the place fell fairly quiet while Klaus dialed the first number. "Colonel Eberbach. Ja. Der Stammhalter..." From there, the conversation moved too quickly and too fast for Dorian to follow, even with the German he'd learned solely for Klaus's sake. Still, he managed to keep himself busy momentarily by idly telling the kitchen workers what they might like -- including dessert! Klaus, of course, never ate any such thing, but there was still a chocolate cake rather conspicuously on the table. Dorian was fond of chocolate cake in all of its various glories, and the staff had very quickly understood that and provided it for him. Klaus wasn't a man to eat sweets, though. He didn't see the sense of it, of indulging like that. Once in a while... every few years, he bothered. Drinking was a better indulgence.

The sound of his conversation went on for some time, and Dorian watched him wistfully as it did. God, how he'd humiliated himself earlier! He sighed, wondering momentarily how he could live with it... and how Klaus could. Finally, he hung up the phone -- looked bitterly exhausted -- and then picked it up to dial again. One call down, one to go! Again, there was that sharp, fast German, and Dorian wished longingly that he was better at it; catching only every third word in a conversation was no fun at all, but he was glad when Klaus finally hung up, even though he looked tired. The butler came in at that moment with his medication in hand. "Let's go eat," he said lightly. "So you can take your medicine."

"All right. Z says that when I return, there's a mission waiting. Nothing strenuous, but... You'll be needed, too," Klaus told him as he walked towards the thief.

"So soon?" Eroica asked, frowning slightly. "I don't mind going for myself, after all, I'm mostly well, but Klaus..."

"I'll be fine," Klaus told him firmly, though he didn't feel so firm about it. Still, a mission was a mission... "We're breaking in the safe and house of a possible Soviet contact in Paris."

"Ahh, France again," Dorian sighed. "You know, I love France. So much history and culture and beautiful art, and so *romantic*, really. It's a beautiful place."

"So much to steal," Klaus sighed, shaking his head as he started off into the library.

"We~ell," Dorian drawled, grasping the rather large tray that had been set up for them and following him. "There *is* that part."

"Don't tell me what you steal, show me what you steal, try to hide on my person something you've stolen, or try to hide on one of my men something you've stolen," Klaus warned, his usual perfunctory warning.

Those words put them back on their old ground entirely, and Dorian almost burst into tears again just then. Instead he said lightly, "You're such a fuddy-duddy, darling, really! Tell you what, I'll agree to not mention whatever I've stolen, all right?"

"That would make me very happy, Dorian," Klaus told him as he entered the library -- there were two widely spaced apart leather chairs, and then a sofa with a table in front of it -- Klaus moved towards that.

"Well, you know how I am, darling. I just love to make you happy in these little ways!" Dorian burbled before saying thoughtfully, "I'll try not to steal the Pope or something like this go 'round. I'm afraid that's a heist that just can't be pulled off properly more than once. Perhaps some minor cardinal instead! Wasn't there the avignon group there..."

"If you can convince me he's one of your men passed out, that's fine," Klaus told him with a sigh, settling back on the sofa, almost comfortably. "Sit down!"

Quietly, Dorian sat down beside him, settling the tray on the table and beginning to sort through things. "Supper looks to be marvelous, da...Major." Darling somehow didn't seem the right thing to say just then!

"My staff is quite good at what they do," Klaus agreed as he picked up the glass of water provided for him.

Easily enough, Dorian gave Klaus a plate of venison, potatoes, peas and freshly cut tomato. "Here you are, and your medicine with it," he was informed firmly before the blond moved to pour tea, ceaselessly waiting on him much as he had since the beginning.

"Thank you." It didn't seem to phase Klaus, thought it might have partly been because he was tired. Talking with his father always did that to him...

"Did your conversations go well?" Dorian asked pleasantly enough, settling back with his own plate.

"The Alphabets are doing well, if restless, and my father is making another attempt at trying to get me married. She'll be arriving day after tomorrow, and finding herself leaving just as quickly."

A cup clattered to the floor, shattering, Dorian white as a sheet as he laid his plate back down and began picking up the pieces. "Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry..."

There was *definitely* a relation between what he'd said, and Dorian's reaction -- Klaus moved off of the sofa to help. "We're breaking glasses left and right, you and I.... What is wrong?"

"Nothing," Dorian denied, though it was a lie. "Just clumsy tonight. It's been a really awful day, you know?"

"Yes." A quick agreement, almost *too* quick for Dorian's comfort. "But do not lie to me, Dorian."

Silently, the Briton leaned back, pieces of the cup held in his palm, eyes lowered, voice impossibly soft. "It really is nothing, or it shouldn't be. I mean, it's not as if I mean anything to you at all, and I know that, I realize that, just, just, the thought, of that, of you and..." Here, he paused, shuddering. "A woman... well, no, not just a woman. The thought of you and anyone who isn't *me*..." He trailed off. "You don't have to tell me I'm a stupid queer, darling, I already know, just perhaps I'm a bit too delicate today, you know."

"You do understand that these shrews my father sends are turned away at the door," Klaus told Dorian, but who knew *why* he was telling the thief. If anything, it might encourage the man...

"Still," Dorian said sadly, "perhaps one day, one of them won't be, and then..." And then, he'd just very well slit his own wrists, he supposed. Well, no, he had too much self-preservation in him for that. Perhaps then he'd just get reckless and get killed or caught. Perhaps then prison sex would have a strange appeal or something, who knew?

Klaus took the broken pieces of glass from the thief's hands. "I can't stand women."

"Well, you can't stand me, either, darling," Dorian replied, letting the pieces go, "and one day, one or the other will have to give, and I'm fully aware of which one it won't be. That's not to say that I'll leave you alone for even a moment until it does!" he said, nodding. "But it will, and then..."

For a moment, Klaus was looking at him with a deer-in-the-headlights look of a man who was hit with a dawning realization. "No -- being with a woman makes me nauseous. You don't."

The sheer jolt of hope that gave Dorian seemed to come straight up from his lower belly and into his throat. "Really?" It was barely a whisper, soft, tentative, almost not there at all, and those eyes looked at him, pleaded with him. "Really?"

Klaus seemed to jolt to his feet, startled by those pleading eyes and his own realization, startling as it was to him, after so many years... /I.... am, I can't stand them in that way... I.../ "R-Really."

"Klaus..." Dorian was up with him, gaze shadowed, uncertain, needing and oh, so very close! "I... do you..."

"I've never thought... of it that way, realized..." His English was starting to thicken, accent taking over his voice more than words as he took a step backwards. "I should have realized..."

The tall blond took a step forward to match it. "Darling, it's all right," he soothed, hand going out tentatively. "It's all right..."

"No... no, it isn't. I... so many years..." That was said with a startling lucidity, and he moved towards the door, stopping only long enough to toss those shards into the waste-basket by the door, nearly running.

"Klaus!!" God, he didn't need to be running like that while still injured, and Dorian was off after him, almost as fast. "Klaus, stop, you can't, you *shouldn't*!" Even injured, Klaus was still *fast*, long legs eating up the marble floor, and then he was out the side door, and into the garden -- where he could take any number of paths unseen by Dorian, because the thief was so many steps behind him. "Dammit!" Dorian whispered, pausing as the rain began to pound down, obscuring all sound and making it impossible to see where Klaus had gone. "Damn, damn, damn!!"

Choosing a path at random, Dorian jogged down slowly, the gathering dark and the pounding rain making it difficult to see very far, but he knew what he was looking for. Klaus's staid white button-up shirt would at least gleam out to him in the dark, he decided, and that was a great help, in the end. After almost fifteen minutes of wandering the paths, he saw it -- that almost-spark of white, and he followed it slowly, hoping Klaus wouldn't bolt again.

Klaus heard Dorian approaching, but didn't run. Not this time -- he'd had time to think for himself, alone and in a quiet setting, and it had helped. Some. He was perched under a little canopied trellis that flowers stretched out over and on top of, directly across from a small fountain. It was dead center for three other paths, so Dorian would have found him eventually. He'd undone the first two buttons of his shirt, letting the angled, cool rain chill him a little, one leg pulled lazily up to his chest. It was helping him catch his elusive breath again.

"Klaus..." Dorian said quietly as he approached. "I'm sorry. I know how upsetting saying -- no, *feeling* -- these things must be for you, but it's wet and cold, and you've been ill. Please... come inside and get dry and we'll talk about it, or not talk about it, or whatever you want..."

"Temperature is all a matter of perception. One can learn to be oblivious to it," Klaus dismissed quietly, not looking away from the fountain yet.

"Perhaps," Dorian agreed solemnly, leaning against one of the firm stone columns that made up the canopy. "I sometimes think so. One's perceptions rule one's world."

Just from the way Klaus was sitting and holding himself, he was obviously having trouble breathing. But he was stubborn to the end... "It certainly has."

"Let's go inside," Dorian tried again. "I'll make you some tea. I'm sure there's bound to be some chamomile somewhere..."

"We still haven't eaten supper," Klaus pointed out, still not looking away from the fountain yet. "I... I don't know what to do, Dorian."

The blond's face softened, expression gentle as he knelt down in the mud, not caring that his pants would be ruined. "Darling, we'll talk about it. You don't have to make an all or nothing decision. Nothing in life is ever that way. And you have all the time in the world to take this slowly and decide if what you feel is what you think it is. I will *never* pressure you to say or do anything you don't want to do. All right? We'll talk about it. Believe it or not, I *do* understand a great deal of what you're feeling."

"You've at least been intelligent enough to have realized it before you got as old as I am." He still wasn't budging, though he finally closed his eyes.

"I didn't have much of a choice, darling," Dorian told him. "I guess you could even say it grew on me. My life and yours, though, have been very different. If I hadn't... well, if my life had been less eccentric, then I might not have ever realized it at all."

It was then, as Klaus wiped rain from his face, just his eyes and cheeks, that Dorian realized there may have been a reason why the stiff-backed major sought refuge in the rain. Hard-falling rain could hide much in the mingling of fresh and salt water. "I'm a failure socially."

A hand reached out tenderly, cupping Klaus's cheek. "No," he said softly, "you're the most wonderful and deeply caring person I've ever known. Your Alphabets respect you. I love you. My men, God love them, also care for you... well," he paused thoughtfully, "except perhaps for James, darling. You're not a failure. You've never been a failure at anything, not to me."

"They're scared of me. The Alphabets *fear* me, not respect me. My father told me today that I'm a sociopath. My *father*." His eyes were closed still, and Dorian watched him swallow, pushing back some dark emotion. "I could die tomorrow and my funeral would have five people there -- you, Z, A, Bonham, and the Chief to make sure I was really dead."

Gently, Dorian leaned forward, tugging him close. "Darling," he whispered, voice slightly hoarse, "if you died tomorrow, half of NATO would show up to give respect to the only man who could possibly accomplish everything you have. You think they don't promote you simply from dislike? How could they promote the very best field agent they've ever had? And together, darling, we're invincible. You're wrong about this," he told Klaus, "and your father..." He paused, wrenching back words that shouldn't be said in case they couldn't be taken back. "Your father is also very, very wrong."

"I can't read minds. Everyone seems to be told these things but me..." Left out of the loop, like an overly respected Elder who was just assumed to know everything. But he *didn't*! Dorian, close as he was, could feel Klaus tremble a little, though if it was the cold, sickness, or... something else, altogether, he couldn't tell. Klaus just stayed quietly slumped against him, not embracing, not doing anything at all but staying so very still, despite the shaking.

"Come inside, darling," Dorian urged again. "Please."

"I'd rather remain out here."

With a soft sigh, Dorian admitted defeat. "Would you be offended if I fetched a rain slicker and umbrella for you, darling?"

"Just a moment longer. Then I'll come in," Klaus promised, swallowing again, and opening his eyes at last, sitting back a little from Dorian so he could wipe at his face again.

Looking up at him, Eroica gave him a sad little smile. "My poor darling," he said gently. "It will be all right."

"No, it won't be." He'd wasted so much opportunity, irrevocably ruined certain things, made his men fear him, lashed out at Dorian again and again... all because he was scared of the truth.

Dorian's head tilted to the side as he looked at him in silence, knowing that nothing could soothe him right now, only wanting to be there when he was wanted.

Klaus finally stood with some effort, chest visibly heaving to draw in breath as he did so, pushing strands of wet hair back out of his eyes. "Let's go back."

They walked back in silence, shoulder to shoulder companionably, and Dorian fought off a strange glee that battled with his worry over Klaus. It was only natural, he supposed, that he should be so very strangely... well, perhaps content was the word. Yes, content, and almost unbelievably happy despite his beloved's misery. It was the strangest thing imaginable, and he didn't quite know what to do, so he squashed it down, tamping it firmly into smoldering coals of happiness before they went back inside.

"Let's get you into something dry," he said calmly as they trudged down the hallway. "You can take your meds and have a warm shower."

They were both soaked, and Klaus was finally feeling hunger, too. "I'll shower first. You, too, need to wash up." After all, Dorian was, if anything, dirtier and wetter than he was himself.

"I'll just run upstairs and shower," Dorian told him. "Here. Go in and start getting dry, darling. I'll bring you a cup of tea and some medicine and go upstairs straightaway."

"Thank you," Klaus murmured, starting to move into the bathroom already, grabbing a towel to soak up the cold from his hair. It was only minutes later that a knock came lightly on the door, letting him know that Dorian was back.

"I've got your tea and meds," the muffled voice announced.

The pounding of the shower's water, though, was loud, and Klaus didn't answer at first. "Just leave them. I'll be out in a few minutes."

The door opened, and Dorian carefully placed the things in his hands down on the counter. He was going to be good, truly, he was, and the slight glimpse of gorgeous man in the fogging mirror was almost enough to make him not be good, but he managed. "I'm going to run up and shower. I'll be down quickly, all right?"

"All right." Muffled through the water, and Dorian saw a strange flicker of something metal in that fogging mirror.

"KLAUS!" he cried, turning quickly. "DON'T!"

"Fuck!" Sharply bit out, and the shower-panel door came half-open quickly, Klaus looking out with startled wide eyes, a straight-edged razor in one hand. "WHAT?!"

"GOD, no, it isn't that bed!" Dorian whispered frantically, face white. "Don't!!"

"Isn't what bad?!" Klaus snapped, leaning his torso out a bit more and turning his head to look at Dorian -- that was when the thief saw the bleeding cut on his other cheek.

"Oh, God," Dorian managed to get out, paling even farther from relief. "Oh, God..."

"What did you think I was doing?" The razor was tossed with a clatter onto the tile floor, and with a hiss, Klaus reached out for a hand towel to press against the side of his face, before slamming shut the shower door.

Unable to help himself, Dorian sank down onto the floor, pressing his head between his knees. /I'm not going to pass out. I'm not. Just because I thought Klaus was going to commit suicide is no reason to be a pussy./

The Major was made of stiffer, if much more unhappy, stuff than that! He showered for another five minutes, and then turned off the water, cursing quietly to himself in three languages before opening the shower door and stepping out, wet washcloth pressed to the side of his face. It *stung* and it was a deep cut; he'd have to put butterflies on it, and hope it didn't scar. Most didn't, thankfully.

He'd expected Dorian to be gone when he stepped out of the shower.

"Sorry," Dorian said, voice conveying quite a lot. "I won't look. Just..."

Quickly, Klaus wrapped a towel around his hips, *tightly*, before Dorian could even think of looking, and the tossed another over his shoulders to keep his hair from dripping on him. "What's wrong?"

"Other than the fact that you were standing in the shower with a straight razor in hand? Oh, nothing," Dorian said, still stunned. "God, I didn't know anyone shaved with those things anymore!"

"I use it occasionally," Klaus said dismissively, moving to the medicine cabinet to dig out the butterflies. He was feeling more clear-headed now than he'd felt before, at least.

"I was afraid for a minute there that you would... that you were going to..." He couldn't even *say* it, it was such a terrible thought!

"Kill myself?" There the box was -- right where it always was, on the left hand side. "The thought crossed my mind, but it would make too many people happy if I did that, and I can't have that."

"Devastated," Dorian corrected softly, "and it would have been my fault for not paying proper attention."

"You, perhaps. My father and the chief would have thrown a party and invited Misha and that fucking Arab." His tone was tightly bitter, but at least it had the old bite back into it -- not that nearly tearful voice that he'd used in the garden.

At that, Dorian had to laugh softly. "Darling, my grief would have been enough for all of them. I really think I'd die if you were gone," he said, sitting on the floor, grubby and drenched.

Silence for a moment from Klaus, as he put the two butterflies in place, and then moved back to Dorian, offering him a hand up off the floor. "Clean up."

Reaching up, Dorian took it, standing with his back firm against the bathroom wall. "All right," he said slowly, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt. "I will."

Strangely, he saw a look in Klaus's eyes he'd seen before, one that he'd never been able to place -- first, an intense glance at him, then a dart away, as if he didn't want to be caught looking at what he was looking at. Still those fingers danced down from button to button until the shirt was gone, and then they went to work on the pants, stripping them off entirely as they fell to the floor, and Dorian had never been the sort of man to wear underwear. Now Klaus was blatantly avoiding looking at him, turned completely around, in fact, and toweling out his hair...

That didn't mean every inch of him wasn't reflected in the mirror, though, even as he stepped into the shower and slowly closed the glass door to turn on the water.

Klaus left in the meanwhile, moving back into the parlor to dress -- casually, for him, shirt sleeves rolled up, collar partly open -- and then into the library, to drink the tea and take his medications. Dinner was still there, as well, though it was cold by then, but it was worth eating. He was strangely hungry, and by the time that Dorian had come out wrapped in a towel, he was halfway through it.

"Sorry. I can't find my luggage," Dorian admitted.

Once more, the other man averted his eyes. "Check the parlor -- I think the butler put them in there."

"No sign," Dorian replied glumly. "I think they hid them, darling. Can I borrow something of yours?"

"It won't have lace," he assured Dorian. Come morning, when the staff returned, he'd just have to ask them where they moved the Earl's bags. "But yes."

"Is there an extra set of pajamas in the parlor?" Dorian asked. "No sense in borrowing real clothes..."

"Yes, I'm sure there is."

"I'll be back in a moment, darling," Klaus was told. "Cross my heart." And then Dorian was gone again, but he was quickly back dressed in striped pajamas that mostly fit him and was back once more. "There. I was quick," he said, settling down on the couch next to him and picking up his own plate. "You know, I'm starving?"

"It's cold," Klaus warned in a half-amused tone, though by now he was just finishing off his last bite. Calm. it was all a matter of staying calm, and pretending that nothing or next to nothing had changed. Otherwise, he was headed for a terrible jag of hysteria, and that was bad.

"Cold is all right," Dorian said, beginning to eat. "And there's chocolate cake, if you want it." Not that Klaus was partial to sweets, but...

"I hope you enjoy it." Klaus's finger twitched nervously for a moment as he sat back, reaching into his shirt pocket out of absent minded habit, and pulling out a pack of cigarettes which had been left there weeks before -- probably a shirt that had been packed for the mission. He didn't even realize what he was doing until after he had it between his lips, unable to find a lighter.

Dorian did, though, and he simply watched as he continued to eat, saying nothing, knowing there was no lighter nearby. "I most likely will," he said finally, finishing off his potatoes. Chocolate was, by nature, not a bad thing, but he wasn't going to try and push Klaus on anything anytime soon!

There was a reason why he didn't have a lighter. "*Verdammit.*" Almost casually, he first tossed across the room the cigarette that had been between his lips, perched there with such familiarity; then the pack sailed after it, smashing into a book case almost satisfactorily.

"I'm sorry, darling," Dorian apologized, almost as if it was his fault.

The man dragged his hand -- right, the one that often held a cigarette -- over his eyes and across his temple, frustrated. "I didn't even miss them until now."

"Do you know," Dorian said, abandoning supper and reaching for the cake, which had gone a little dry, but was not, by far, inedible, "what I did when I realized?" It was a gamble, but still, it was one he needed to take.

The cake was still better than anything James would buy.

"What?" Klaus asked, now leaning on that hand, anything at all, to keep those fingers from repeating motions that had been rote for decades.

"Bawled," Dorian confessed. "Threw an absolute fit, in fact. I was maybe thirteen and the girl next door had a crush on me. She kissed me and I nearly got sick."

He watched Klaus's mouth twitch into the famed and frightening half smile, half sneer. "I've been there. Too stupid to realize why."

"No," Dorian said. "It's not stupidity. It's the desire for things to be conforming, for everything in your life to fit into society's little niche. Klaus, darling, you've never really fit anyone's preconceived notions, I think. I know you. You've always been extraordinary in one way or another."

"I'm a sick fuck." He seemed to be quoting someone -- and not necessarily his father, since Klaus had been called lots of interesting things by lots of people, by everyone from Misha to his own men when his back was turned. "Extraordinary. You have poor taste, Dorian. Face that."

"NEVER when it comes to you," Dorian said fiercely. "NEVER. Besides, I have exquisite taste, thank you. If I didn't, I'd be buying velvet paintings of Elvis instead of stealing old Masters and antiques."

Oh, but he *did* have bad taste in one area, and Klaus had been itching to point it out for nearly fifteen years... he might as well do it now. "Dorian, even I keep my suits updated to the style of the time."

Dorian smiled slowly. "That's just what I like, darling. Besides, the late seventies were such a bad time for clothing, hm? Surely I can be forgiven for my extravagances, just a bit."

"Poor. Taste." He dragged his hand over his eyes again, sighing as he shifted on the sofa, restless. "Do you want a drink?" He couldn't have one, not with the medications he was on, and trouble breathing already, but he could certainly offer one to Dorian.

"Not really," Dorian said, finishing off the cake and taking his own medication -- just the antibiotic, and it was the last day he'd have to take that. "Unless you want me to have one, in which case, I will."

"No." Klaus had a terribly lost look about him, half-detached from the world for fear of being swept away just then. Had it been on a mission that Dorian saw that look, he would have feared imminent death at the hands of a higher being, or seeing Klaus have a complete nervous break-down. Now, however...

"Darling, it really will be all right," Dorian promised, shifting towards him, hand reaching out to lightly touch his wrist. "It will."

"No, it won't. I've wasted so much time..." Klaus didn't flinch away from that touch, Dorian's gentle hand; instead he stayed still, not looking at the thief. "And I don't know what to do now."

"You haven't wasted anything," Dorian told him. "You've led me on a wild ride and taught me a lot of things that I didn't really understand before, among them what it's like to truly love someone. Before you, it was all fun and games and I don't think I understood a thing about fidelity. Did you know that? I'll bet you did. Would you like to know something? I haven't so much as seriously kissed someone else since you came into my life. I was after Caesar when we met and before I knew it, I was hoping you'd rub off on him and he'd become like you. That, I think, was the last time..."

"That's a long time to wait for a man who thinks he's straight," Klaus pointed out quietly.

"Darling, for you, I'd wait forever," Dorian replied quietly.

"I can't see what there is to want to wait 'forever' for." He was stubborn, hard-headed, mean, cruel, sharp-tongued, obsessed with weaponry...

That blond head tilted to the side, looking at him seriously. "Well, you're stubborn, beautiful, aggravating, intense, secretly care about your people greatly, even when you're being annoying, honorable, perversely tender, and just... just *incredible*, Klaus. You're so much of everything that words fail me, you know. Everyone pales in comparison to you."

"'Perversely tender'? I want that explained," Klaus told him, with his eyebrows creeping up under his bangs. He was a man who loved to shoot things, hit things and yell -- how the hell...

Dorian shrugged, smiling slightly. "One minute you're yelling at me, the next you're asking me not to cry. It's probably the most pointed example I can think of, you know. You're like that. Nothing with you is ever simple, it's always ever-changing and complex, and I adore it. I adore you."

"I don't know." A lot of things, and it applied to all of them. Klaus shifted again, finally to look at Dorian. "I... just.... 'm lost."

"You might be, for a while," Dorian said softly. "You know, I was for a while. Most everyone is, when they think they... well, when they discover that they like men and they're a man, or if it's a woman, that she likes women. It's not something we're prepared for. As boys, we learn to buck up, to be a man, and suddenly, you're lost and thinking, 'What the hell am I? What could be wrong with me, that I'm this way? Why am I different?' And there's no answer to that, right off. Actually," he admitted slowly, "the answers are hard to come by."

"I have different questions," Klaus mused, resting his chin in his hand now. "What am I going to tell my father? Will this effect my ability to continue missions with you? I... am not a social man -- I've never been in a.... any relationship that wasn't a pay one."

The notion of Klaus, of all people, paying for sex was perfectly appalling, and he wanted to pursue that, but... yes, okay, he had to pursue that! Just not right now, if he could help it. "Darling, it's not your social skills that made me love you. It's so many things, most of all that tenderness you hide so well. As for your father..." He paused. "I really don't know. I've never met your father. And mine was rather an exception to the rule. He and my mother occasionally shared boyfriends, you know, before she left him. As I said, an eclectic household. As for previous relationships..." Okay, so he couldn't leave it alone. "You mean, paying someone to accompany you somewhere? Tell you what; I'll do it for free," he teased gently.

"Dorian..." The man sighed and slumped a little in the seat, holding back a small cough. He certainly looked tired and furtive now. The sigh of his name was almost a tired warning. Almost. "I... It's complicated right now. Very complicated. I can't see where next, or... anything." He wanted, more than anything, a reason to not have to choose at all. A mission, that would take him away from Dorian, and away from the castle.

"Sleep on it," the thief suggested gently, reaching out to touch his face. "Maybe things will be clearer in the morning..."

"Somehow I believe that if I think on it, I will only muddle things, Dorian," Klaus told him solemnly, lifting military-green eyes to look at Dorian.

"Then what are you going to do?" Dorian asked seriously, looking back at him.

A rough laugh again -- the sounds wasn't pleasant, or calming. "I don't know."

"What would you like *me* to do?" came the further question.

"I... can't say. But something. Don't leave me alone."

"I would never," Dorian assured him, those fingers on his face caressing gently. "Klaus?"

"Ja?" Asked in an even tone that entirely belied his half-frightened and half angry expression.

"Close your eyes."

For a moment, Klaus looked at him questioningly -- what was it to be? A kiss? A shot to his head...? A drugging?

"Close them."

One more moment of wary hesitation, and then those green eyes closed, lightly, ready to open at the first sign of misgiving. If it was to harm him, as he suspected first of anyone, then at least it would be putting him out of his misery... and if a kiss, into it deeper.

Instead, it was a feather light brush of fingers over temples and forehead, brushing back through wet hair tenderly as Eroica shifted on the couch beside him. He felt no kisses, nothing threatening, only arms that came around him finally and hugged him to the other man's chest, a hand lightly on the back of his head in offered comfort.

Neither, and it was almost as bad. Klaus knew he was cracking at the edges, every last damned edge he had -- knew it as he rested like that, and felt his breath hitch in his throat before he pressed down every thought in his mind. /Think of nothing. Nothing, about this, or anything else. Bleakness.../

"You know," came Dorian's voice softly to his ears, "the longer you resist, the more it will hurt, darling."

"'m not resisting anything," Klaus spoke in a very slow, tight voice, muffled against borrowed pajamas.

"Hmmm," was the neutral answer, though the tender petting that felt so good against his back and shoulders did not stop.

It wasn't sexual or explicit in any of the ways he was accustomed to Dorian acting around him when he had a chance to touch the Major. It was soothing, and protective, almost, trickling into a void that Klaus had always been afraid to go near. He felt... loved, for once. Once in so very long. No one loved or cared for him. Cold, distant respect and fear, foppish, annoying flirting, all too often something he received. Not this... "My poor darling..." And ah, it was terrible to hear that voice, so obviously not what Dorian should sound like, nothing at all like he was!

That hurt, too. Why did everyone seem to think he knew things that he *didn't* -- so sure that he knew this, or knew that, and he *didn't*, could never be sure or secure enough in anyone to believe... The hitch again, and again, dangerous and welling up in his throat, shoved down once more. He was a grown man, and grown men didn't cry, not over something as idiotic as this!

"You'll feel much better if you do," Dorian whispered, knowing what Klaus was holding back and aching with sympathy and pain as he continued touching the dark-haired man, wanting desperately to kiss away all fears and insecurities. /My poor darling.../

To cry would have been cathartic -- he hadn't cried in years and years, even with agents lost in the line of duty, terrible tragedies, close calls for all involved... No tears. To cry would have been for him to concede too much of who he thought he was in one day.

It shouldn't have surprised Dorian when Klaus jerked back, eyes still closed for a moment, heel of his hand pressing to them before he opened them, looking serious and solemn. "I can't."

Dorian's blue eyes were shadowed, expression distinctly exhausted. "I know." He sighed deeply, dropping back onto the couch slightly. "Maybe we should go to bed, darling. It's been a long day, and it hasn't been good for either of us..."

"Are you... going to stay down here?" Klaus asked after a moment, as he reached a hand to finish off the water-glass.

"On the couch in the parlour, if you don't mind," Dorian replied.

The parlour where Klaus slept... "Yes -- that would be good." Klaus rose from the sofa at last, making a shifting arch of his back that cracked the joints.

"You took all of your medicine?" Eroica asked, reached up to rub an eye sleepily.

"Yes -- unless there was something you didn't give me." He wished it would heal up right away -- it would make things easier for him, he was sure of that.

"It was all there," Dorian assured him as he stacked the remains of their plates on the tray, deciding to leave them there for the maids to find. /All there and then a bit./ "Let's go, then, darling."

Klaus was silent as he led the way down the hall, a short trip that he detoured from only for a moment to use the washroom, and then return to pull out his pair of pajamas while contemplating just kicking off his shoes and crawling under the sheets. Still, he dressed, slipping them on without his usual frantic modesty, and slid between the sheets as Dorian scrounged for a blanket and, upon finding one, flipped out the lights.

The walk through the dark wasn't that bad, and he slid silently onto the sofa, settling in before saying, "Are you all right?" Well, he knew that Klaus wasn't, but...

"Yes." Spoken crisply, as Klaus shifted to his better side, and curled against the pillow some. So tired, and afraid to think...

After that, Dorian kept silent, wondering if the sleeping medication he'd given Klaus was working, hoping that it was. He loved the other man, truly and deeply, for all that his capricious behavior might have, at some point, suggested otherwise. He worried for him, and he didn't want him to hurt like this, ever...

Medication and Klaus were strange things, though -- he tended to have a natural immunity of sorts to certain types, or amounts. Sleeping pills only calmed him now, mellowed him out and dulled his anger. He'd taken them too often after certain horrific missions, for them to really work in the dose that Dorian had given him, such a small one.

But the Major, tensely strung as he was, seemed calm until Dorian heard it at last -- struggled and quietly muffled sobbing that he had expected to come sooner.

Wordlessly, he rose, a strobe of lightning lighting his way as he padded to the bed barefoot and climbed into it carefully, remaining atop the covers even as he laid down next to Klaus and offered his arms and himself for comfort. "Come here," he whispered softly, pulling him close. "Shhh, love. It's all right. I'm here for you..." No words from Klaus, yet the choking, half held back tears kept flowing, now wetting Dorian's borrowed pajamas as he let himself be held by the thief. "Shhhh," Dorian whispered, the sound meant only to be soothing as he rocked slightly, hands rubbing Klaus's back. "Shhh, my poor darling. Shhh..."

"Dor..." Useless. He was just useless; the tears, that short achingly hard burst of them opening the floodgates for more than he'd thought he had, a jagged edge of crying and clinging lightly to the thief, and it was all taken in stride, nothing but comfort given to him with the soft murmur of solace in his ear and those hands touching him with nothing more than reassurance in mind.

"I know. I know it's so hard," Dorian whispered, heart breaking to see Klaus that way, sobbing and hurt. "I know, let it out..."

It seemed to go on for forever, and if it were even just a minute long, it was too long for Klaus. He pulled himself together at last, starting to cough again, breath failing him for a moment as he stayed where he was, Dorian so close, the man's shoulder and chest just beneath his wet face.

Even though he'd stopped crying, the hands rubbing his back and shoulders had not, nor had the sussuration of words that spilled quietly, meant to make him feel a bit better. When he coughed, though, the rub became a light pat, and Dorian shifted. "Do you want me to get you some water?" he asked quietly.

Klaus was giving a shaky nod, taking those words as an excuse to break the light contact before he embarrassed himself further, laying back on the mattress instead of on Dorian, wiping his eyes and face with the edge of the sheets.

"I'll be right back," the other man murmured, rising and heading down the hallway to the bathroom, coming back after rinsing out the teacup that Klaus had left there and filling it with water, bringing with him a balled up handful of tissue. "Sit up, darling," he said calmly, crawling back into the bed as if he belonged there.

At least he wasn't under the covers, though the way Klaus's day was going, they'd somehow end up in the same pair of pants. Still, Klaus did sit up, hand over his mouth as the cough shifted deep and painful for a moment.

"You have a check-up tomorrow, right?" Dorian fretted, biting his lip. God, if Klaus got sick it would be all his fault for not stopping him from sitting out in the rain like that!

"Ja." He pulled his hand away from his mouth at last, cough under control, fingers reaching for the tissue to wipe away flecks of blood.

That lip was still being worried between white teeth. "Are you going to tell him about running out in the rain, or that you're coughing up blood?" If he wasn't, Dorian was going to tell on him!

"It's just residuals from the surgery," Klaus dismissed quietly, cleaning his palm, and then taking the cup of water to drain it quickly. "Thank you, Dorian."

"You ought to tell him..." Dorian said solemnly, watching him drink the water and then taking the cup to put it on the nearby table. "I think it would be a good idea..."

"I will." If only so that the other man didn't worry so much over him... "Will you be driving me, or should I get one of the men..."

That gained him a quick answer. "Oh, I'll be driving! Although really, darling, your car is so terribly staid..."

"Don't insult my Benz," Klaus snapped -- it was an ingrained, irritable reply, but it was more like the old Klaus than this strange new one Dorian was starting to know of, and in a way, it was something of a relief.

"Of course not, darling. But maybe I can rent something in *red* for a while," he teased, making it obvious.

"It's not worth your trouble," Klaus told him, slipping back down to lay again. "Sleep, Dorian. We both need it..."

The agreement that came was quiet, Dorian laying down slowly beside him, wondering if Klaus would kick him out of the bed. "All right..."

He wasn't kicked out, though. In spite of -- or perhaps because of -- what had happened that afternoon and evening, Klaus let Dorian remain there, finally lifting up a layer of the blankets and moving it over Dorian so the man wouldn't freeze while they slept... and then he slept, as well, though it remained troubled even until morning.

~~~~~

The sun was shining in when Dorian came close to waking, and he rolled over, sighing slowly and stretching as he did so, coming into contact with another body. It was only through sheer source of will that he didn't jump. It had been years since he'd slept with anyone at all -- Klaus had made it perfectly impossible for him to want anyone else -- but he was glad that he hadn't when he saw Klaus's face in the morning light, dark lashes shadowing his cheeks, the expression so deeply peaceful.

With a sigh, Dorian lay there, watching him for the longest time. He was so beautiful but, more than that, he had a force of personality and the same careless zest for everything that Dorian also had. He was exquisite. He was perfect, and perfect for *him*, and Dorian knew it, as he always had!

Their approach with that zeal were different things, though -- Klaus's through anger, Dorian's through adoration. It left the thief wondering just how Klaus had been raised, to make him such a heat-forged piece of iron, threateningly cold on the outside, but bitterly hot inside.

/Damned old man,/ he decided, jaw working slightly with fury. /This has something to do with his father, this hysterical homophobia of his. But then, doesn't everyone's, in the end?/ With a sigh, he scooched down farther in the bed, golden curls tangled from drying overnight. /That's going to be hell to brush out./ It was very likely that Klaus would volunteer to do it, as he'd done in nights before. So strangely gentle, his roughened touch...

"'s the time?"

"Almost ten," Dorian replied quietly, having peeked at the red digits of the clock a moment prior. "We don't have to get up yet."

"Ten?!" Klaus startled quietly, half sitting up -- he *never* slept that late, even when ill!

"It was a rough night," Dorian said softly, not rising. "You're allowed to sleep late when you've felt bad, Klaus."

Silence before Klaus asked, "When did you fall asleep?"

"A little after you covered me up, I think," came the half-decision, though the Earl really wasn't sure, to be truthful. "You were very warm, and it was awfully comfortable."

"I'm glad." Klaus knew that he himself hadn't slept so well, or for very long until the early morning; around the same time he knew Dorian had fallen asleep.

"Lay back down," Dorian said softly. "We don't have to be at the doctor's 'til three."

The shift from up on his elbows to his back was an easy one to make, though Klaus didn't shift his gaze from Dorian's face.

"Hi." It seemed like the thing to say, in that moment, slightly whimsical, and Dorian couldn't help but smile. "I'm Dorian Red Gloria. It's very nice to meet you."

There was no harm in playing along, even for the short while Klaus guess it would last, he relaxed a little. "Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach," he said. "It's my pleasure."

That made Dorian's smile even broader, and brought a glimmer of humor and pleasure into his eyes long gone unseen. "So, since we seem to be here together, maybe we should tell all about ourselves."

"Why don't you start?" Klaus suggested, sounding unsure for a moment. "I... you can start."

"All right," came the agreement. "I'm good at talking." That brought with it a wink. "I'm Dorian. I was born in England at a castle called North Downs thirty-one years ago. My parents were always the life of the party and *never* at home, so I had more imaginary playmates than real ones." At that, his lips quirked slightly. "And quite a few of Oberon's faeries, besides. I have degrees in business, philosophy, and art history, with a master's and doctorate in the latter. I'm also an exquisite thief with," and here, those lips quirked again, humor dancing in his eyes, "truly bad fashion taste, according to the love of my life. And you?"

"Thirty-four, born in Schloss Eberbach, my family's ancestral home. Mother died when I was very young, and father always seemed to be pushing me toward fulfilling familial duties. I went through the officer program for the army. I haven't been promoted, though I'm starting to be convinced that it's because I'm more useful where I am than I would be with a higher rank elsewhere. I'm stubborn and loud, with a habit of shooting and hitting things."

A short pause and then he added, "And I just quit smoking."

"I like stubborn, loud men who shoot and hit things who don't smoke," Dorian joked, smiling at him. "They're my favorite kind." /Familial duties my ass./ That, after all, was what in vitro fertilization was for. It was expensive, yes, and there was the matter of finding a willing woman, but it meant Dorian didn't have to have *sex* with one, the mere thought of which was enough to make him ill.

The edges of Klaus's mouth twitch up for a moment, not that scary smile he'd given a few times the night before. "Glad to hear it, since we've seemed to end up in bed together."

"Well, you know, it's always a good idea to like your bed partners," Dorian agreed, laughing softly. "I rather like you a lot. I'm glad we're here."

"Dorian... don't expect much from me for a while," Klaus spoke seriously after a moment more of that silly smile.

"I'll try," Dorian promised seriously. "It's almost scary, in a way, because the impossible might be possible after all, and perhaps that's even more dangerous than anything I've done ever before. The sheer prospect of... of there being any sort of chance for me at all, even in the most remote of ways, makes me giddy, Klaus. I can't help it."

"I've never even... tried to have a relationship with anyone, Dorian.. I... truly meant it when I said last night that I don't know what to do." /Guide me./

A hand reached out, lightly finding Klaus's. "While I'd love to seduce you, kiss you, have you madly in love with me right now, I think we're off to a beautiful start just the way we are," he was told quietly. "But Klaus... would you mind? If I kissed you?"

Fingers clasped back only lightly, but at least they clasped at all. "No way to tell."

"No way but to try," Dorian noted solemnly.

"Ja..." Klaus's eyes held a familiar shutter, hiding any unneeded emotion, and the thoughts behind those eyes -- but at least it wasn't anger. More thought than anything. /No way but to try.../

Carefully, eyes open and latched onto the green ones across from him, the thief leaned forward and pressed his mouth softly to Klaus's. Only then did they slide shut, as if Dorian was unable to stop it, just as he seemed unable to stop the silky sigh that brushed loose from him when their lips touched, his own parted slightly for the kiss. It was slow, deliberate, tender, and when Dorian pulled back, his eyes had become dark with some inexpressible emotion, but his mouth curved upwards slightly as he looked at Klaus. "Was it bad?"

If he said 'yes', Klaus thought to himself, Dorian would leave his life forever in the capacity of friend and tormentor, and Klaus would be left with his work and his agents, bad lungs, probably dying some painful slow death at the hands of an angry Soviet before his lungs killed him. Yet, if he told the truth, what sort of doom was he leading himself into...?

"No."

At that answer, another kiss was granted, this one much like the first except longer, warmer. "I'm glad."

Klaus was slow to respond, like a piece of ice being tapped by a warm finger - in little trickles, he responded. Tiny surges of motion, unsure but certainly not disgusted, were felt against Dorian's lips as they parted, and oh, how sweet it was to kiss Klaus, to bring a hand up and touch his face, and to feel him respond!

When the third kiss started, Klaus had to break away. "Dorian..." He hadn't called the man Eroica in days, it seemed, and he probably hadn't. How strange... "I don't know how this would effect missions..."

"Right." The sound was just a little breathy, mostly from exhilaration. "We'll have to see about that, too, won't we?"

"Ja..." He felt himself shiver, the hardness of shuttered eyes softening for a moment. "Today... what will we do, Dorian?"

For a moment, Dorian's eyes closed, and perhaps Klaus thought he was drifting back into sleep before he said, "Hmm, why don't we get up, get dressed, eat, and go for a drive before we go to the doctor's office?"

"Just a drive?"

"Perhaps a stop or two on the way. We could take a tarp and a basket for a picnic, since it's still wet out."

Nodding, Klaus shifted a bit away, to get out of bed. "I feel like trying exercise today. A few sit-ups, to see what hurts still."

Well, it wasn't like Dorian could exactly stop him! "If you really feel the need, but I don't think you should, darling. It's only been four and a half weeks!!! It can't be at all good for you!" Not that Klaus would listen, of course...

"Over a month -- good enough," Klaus said as he stood up for a moment, looking thoroughly mussed from the night before; seconds later, he laid down on the floor, hands folded behind his head, heels of his feet very nearly against his ass.

"Darling, you're a madman. I adore you," Dorian admitted ruefully, "but only you would have your chest cracked open and be attempting sit-ups after less than five weeks. Ahh, but that's what makes you who you are, I suppose."

"We'll see how right you are," Klaus mused, starting his first one smoothly, chest aching. It was a dull ache, though, and he was glad to know that he, at least, was still functioning, and that despite the lack of practice, his muscles hadn't faded too much. He reached seventy before he decided to stop. He felt strangely winded, when he used to be able to do a hundred, without even breaking a sweat.

"You're a madman," Dorian said again, but it was with a certain tone of voice that seemed to imply that he loved every last moment of it and could watch him for hours. "Let's get dressed, darling."

"Give me a hand up," Klaus demanded, pleasantly enough, holding a hand up towards Dorian.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Dorian grasped it and allowed Klaus to pull himself up at his own speed. "I'll have to find your butler before I can get dressed," he murmured.

"Check the gun room. He dusts in the morning."

"Will do, darling," Dorian said, tugging at tangled strands of hair as he climbed out of bed entirely. "I'll never get all of the knots out..."

"Try to wash it out -- if it doesn't work, we still have the brush." Klaus moved to the door, pausing only to pick out semi-casual clothing. And no tie - after his strike at Dorian's dress, there was surely a strike for his ties next...

"Yes, Klaus," and then Dorian was out the door, heading down the hall and away from him. It wasn't such a long trip to the gun room; however, it was not, by far, a place Dorian liked very much. Still, he supposed it was necessary to search for the butler there if that was where Klaus said that he would be. "Hello?"

"May I help you...?" The man looked up from polishing a sharp looking Baretta that was on a desk.

"Ah, yes," Dorian replied, raising an eyebrow. Oh, Lord, he didn't like guns one bit, much less when they might for any reason whatsoever be in hands other than Klaus's or one of the Alphabets', really. "I was wondering where my luggage had got off to..."

"It was moved into the kitchen last evening."

"Oh," Dorian said. "Well, I'll just go fetch it, then..."

"Very well, sir. Shall I...?"

"Er, whatever you're doing is fine, I'll get the ladies in the kitchen to scrounge up breakfast," Dorian assured, turning to leave. Another barely pleasant parting word, and then Dorian was in the kitchen, where he found his bags.

The ladies there were quite nice, promising scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast and a large picnic basket, and then he headed back to the parlor, luggage in hand, to change into clothing of his own.

When he came in it was to get a pleasant view of Klaus's chest as he pulled a plain black t-shirt down over his torso, covering the dressings that stood out starkly against shower and heat flushed skin. Jeans. Major Eberbach, the cold, hard, Iron Klaus, was wearing jeans, that fit him in the same manner as all of his pants did -- close to muscled legs. And sneakers. Now Dorian truly had cause to worry that Klaus had lost his mind.

The urge to declare, "Wow!", was fought off with some difficulty as Dorian put his cases down and knelt to open one, looking for something similar...or, at least, something that wouldn't make Klaus uncomfortable. "They were in the kitchen," he said as he did so, tilting his head slightly. "Your butler's scary, darling."

"How so?" Klaus asked as he moved to a drawer in the bureau that had been brought down for him some weeks before, and pulled out a familiar ox-hide belt. The t-shirt was already being efficiently tucked in.

"Oh, just..." Dorian paused, pulling out a pair of dark slacks and a turquoise shirt, thanking God for Bonham's dedicated clothing of him. "I suppose asking a man who's cleaning off guns where my luggage is makes me nervous."

"He wasn't cleaning -- he was dusting. I have him do that when I am not attending to them properly." Meaning, when he was sick as he was now, or away on a mission. The belt that Dorian had once stolen from him was buckled, and Klaus managed a smile for Dorian then, once he was fully dressed.

"Still, darling. I'm not so fond of firearms," he pointed out as he gathered things together, "when they are not in *your* hands."

"You're not fond of them when they are in my hands," Klaus countered. But he, at least, was good with guns. Wonderful, in fact -- there was a natural affinity he had with them that couldn't be matched with anything else. Except for tinkering with cars...

"Well, at least I'm sure *you're* not going to shoot me, no matter how tempted you might be," Dorian told him wryly, deciding that last night's bath would do and beginning to dress. "I'm not so sure about your butler!"

"What makes you so sure that I wouldn't shoot you?" He wouldn't, and they both knew it, and had known it for some time -- the worst he'd do would be to give Dorian a black eye -- but the why was something he'd never questioned of himself.

Dorian tilted his head to the side. "I don't know," he said slowly, beginning to button his shirt slowly, pants still unbuttoned and waiting for him to tuck it in. "Perhaps because I tend to be useful to you. More likely because you wouldn't shoot me for being madly in love with you, though you were certainly tempted at that border crossing..." Oh, but it had been so nice to kiss Klaus like that, even if Jamesie was bawling so!

"I was very tempted," he agreed, looking away very clearly as he moved to the second drawer to pull out his treasured Magnum. Well, one of them.

"Ahh, but you were beautiful dressed in black," Dorian said dreamily, looking at him now as he tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. "Even if you did scare the life out of me, jerking me back like that, darling!"

"You were going to foul up," Klaus murmured firmly, almost a reminder. "But you are still a better assistant on missions than the Alphabets. Your sense of self-preservation is weaker."

Dorian only smiled, though, working fingers through tangled curls. "No, darling. I just know that you'll save me."

"I couldn't save you this last mission." Klaus moved towards the other side of the room, to get the brush. "Sit on the bed."

"Hmmm," Dorian murmured, sitting obediently and waiting for Klaus to begin. "No, you couldn't, but sometimes, it's my turn, you know. All's fair in love, war and espionage and all that."

"My idiocy nearly cost both of us our lives." He pulled out a holster next, and Dorian could see the slight wince was he stretched out his stiff left shoulder to slide the holster on, gun in place.

Dorian's fingers went back to plying through curls. "It didn't, though," he pointed out. "Besides, you could as well stop putting yourself in danger for NATO as I could stop my thievery, darling. It's just quite unlikely."

"There is danger that is unnecessary, though." And it hurt him to think of what had given them away, from their hiding place in the air shaft -- a cough. "And it was my fault."

"Still," Dorian replied, looking at him. "We're alive. You're alive, because of it, because they found what they did and took care of it. And that, my dearest Major, is the most important thing of all."

"Let's leave. Else we'll banter away the time we have before my appointment," Klaus decided, sudden and decisive.

A slight pout crossed Dorian's lips, wiped away before Klaus could see it. "Could I have the hairbrush, first?" Well, it wasn't like he didn't have his own, but it was so much nicer when Klaus did it...

With a sigh, Klaus moved to the bed, pushing Dorian slightly to the side. "Don't distract me again, then." He seated himself behind the thief, one leg folded under his body, pleasantly close to the other man as he began gentle strokes.

"Yes, Klaus," came the nearly purred reply, eyes closing as the German began to brush out those tangled skeins of gold. There was the paradoxical gentleness again, hands and arms strong enough to shoot a Magnum one handed stroking through Dorian's hair as gently as one would pet a small kitten. "You know," he whispered, "this is the single most wonderful thing that you do for me." Ah, and it was, utterly rapturous, and he closed his head, heart beating slightly faster. God, he loved Klaus for it!

"Better than your long sought kisses?" Klaus asked him, whether in jest or serious, who could tell?

"Well," Dorian said thoughtfully, "there's no denying that being kissed by you is wonderful, and close, and better than I ever thought it would be. This, though..." He gave a low murmur of sound, as if thoughtful. "You're so good to me..."

"No, I'm not. You're only saying that because I haven't hit you in weeks," Klaus observed, still combing through tenderly.

At that, Dorian laughed. "That's not being good to me?"

"To even be able to count when I have and haven't isn't good." A snort of breath from the major to end that sentence, and then the brushing stopped with a few lingering strokes to the ends of his hair. "There."

"Thank you," Dorian said, sighing deeply. How he wished it wasn't done! "Let's eat a bite for breakfast and go for a drive, darling. The ladies in the kitchen promised there'd be eggs for breakfast and the picnic basket would be ready when we left."

"When we come back this afternoon, remind me to look at the Benz. It wasn't running perfectly when I last looked at it, and it hasn't been driven in too long." Klaus rose smoothly, and Dorian could feel a distinct loss of the heat that had been near his back.

"All right." Easy to agree, easier to stand and slip on shoes quickly, comfortable black loafers with silver buckles on them that would have looked prissy on almost any other man. "I'll watch. You know I'm not good with mechanical things..."

"You'll be bored," Klaus told him. "I need to change the oil, among other things."

"I'm never bored when I'm with you, darling," Dorian pointed out.

"I'll hold you to that when you begin to yawn." He moved towards the door, waiting for Dorian to follow. The shoulder holster, clearly visible against the black of his shirt, was a strange touch to the casual clothes he wore.

"Why wear that today?" came the curious question as they stepped out into the hall, heading towards the dining room, a monstrosity of a thing not fit for small meals such as these, but Klaus was accustomed to dining there alone and so that was where the ladies would serve this morning, since Dorian had made no suggestions otherwise.

"I do not want to be disturbed while we are out. Any agent who sees us will be less likely to attack knowing that I am armed."

At that, Dorian was glad to be behind him because he couldn't help himself when he rolled his eyes. /One day, my darling Major, we will have an entire twenty-four hours together paranoia free. Oh, I hope that day comes soon!/

~~~~~

Klaus was in a low level of heaven, even if it was a messy one. He'd already changed the oil and was now on his back, half under the jacked up car, tightening hoses that had loosened from non-use and use alike.

"Are you still awake over there?" he called to Dorian, voice muffled by the glorious undercarriage.

"Umhum," Dorian answered, sighing with delight as he watched Klaus's legs shift, pushing him a little farther under the car. Goodness, but that was a glorious sight, and earlier, he'd been leaning over so that his ass was in full view of God and everybody -- well, perhaps just Dorian, but that was all right, too. "I'm just fine, darling. Absolutely *fabulous*, my sweetheart." He truly was, especially since the doctor had told them both they were doing all right!

Klaus just had to watch those last two sutures, and the seepage, and he'd be fine. Finish up the medications, and everything would be good. "You call me those things just to frustrate me, don't you?" Klaus asked rhetorically, as he cinched a metal band in place with pliers.

"Mmm, maybe," came the teasing reply, "though if you asked me, I'd say I call you these things because I love you."

"Same thing," he snorted, though it was without malice as he shifted out a bit from under the Benz. "You love to exhaust me, Dorian, as much as anything."

That brought to mind several lovely, filthy, *sweaty* ways to wear Klaus out in all of their capacities. "Yes," he agreed. "I just love that idea."

"Idea? Don't tell me. I don't want to know. Don't even think it." Klaus's own mind jumped to more than several such thoughts -- if he let it have free reign, he would be dirtier of thought than Dorian!

"Yes, darling," came the cheerfully obedient reply, though it was rather too late -- he'd already thought it, and was probably going to think it again more than once.

Klaus had decided to take his time on tuning up the car, tightening everything at least once, double-checking connections and where leaks would start, so he could be ready to repair when it happened. All very familiar, beloved things for him to do, as keeping his Benz in pristine condition was one of many points of pride for him. "Today has been a good day," he declared at last as he wheeled out from under the Benz, and sat up, covered in little drips and smudges.

"Oh, I agree," Dorian said, standing up and walking over, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and leaning forward. "You know, you're gorgeous in grease. Just in case no one's ever told you," he said cheerfully, wiping at a smear on one of those lovely high cheekbones.

"No one ever has," Klaus returned in a tone that, for him, was light, and there was a smile on his face, small but certainly not that evil thing of danger. "Pick something you wish to do tonight, Dorian. Not now... have it decided by the time I'm back from showering. Tell me, and we'll do it."

"Anything?" Dorian asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Use reason," Klaus warned.

Reason was definitely required, the thief decided. After all, an offer of *anything* wasn't something he'd ever suspected he'd get from Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach, and a man with sense would certainly make sure that he didn't push too far! The perfect answer, however, came very quickly to mind. "Go shower, darling. I'll decide while you bathe!"

"Good." Klaus left, unaware of the kind of plotting Dorian was using against him, though he suspected. It would end in either some horrible diner fiasco, a dancing fiasco, or some other social outing that Klaus would hate and Dorian would love.

He should only hope to be so lucky.

By the time he was out, Dorian had questioned everyone and had finally managed to locate one thing he was looking for and had moved it into the parlor -- a television that had definitely seen better days, and only had a little two pronged antenna to help it out. "This," he declared to himself as he looked at it, frowning and unaware that Klaus was behind him by now, "simply will NOT do."

"Not if you're planning on putting it to some obscene use, no -- what are you trying to do?"

Dorian stood, hands on his hips, and turned around. "I'm planning on going into town and buying a television and a VCR, darling. God, they've been around for years now, it won't be nearly as expensive as a beta would have been! And then, we're going to pick up some movies and some popcorn and come home and sit in the dark and watch them."

For a moment, Klaus was silent, and then....

Then, blessedly, he smiled. "No sappy love stories!" And with that, he grasped Dorian's wrist, pulling him towards the door. "I'll go with you to assure that."

Eroica only laughed, though, delighted at that smile. "I have the *perfect* movies in mind, darling!"

"Do you know where to get them...? Or a VCR?" Klaus was not one for watching TV, but if it was what Dorian had chosen, well... it was better than what he'd suspected the thief of wanting.

"I know EXACTLY where to get them, and it won't take long," Dorian promised.

"Then you'll drive, and I'll come along to carry what you get."

"Perfect," came the agreement, and then they were out the door.