Social events were always hell.
It went without saying that the pain of it multiplied by the number of people packed into a ballroom pretending to enjoy themselves. Divide that by the number of drinks he managed to put safely away before the event began. Then multiply it *again* by the number of times his toes had been tramped on by the admirers clinging near to him, trying to turn his head or gain his favour.
He usually drank only a few shots, then carried around a glass of water pretending it was vodka. One of the few entertainments of the evening was usually watching the nobility of both genders get steadily drunk. Blackmail was always a resource, and it was hard to blackmail someone if he himself hadn't been an upstanding citizen that evening.
It looked to be another of those evenings, though -- chatting with people he barely knew or cared to know, friends of his father, the family, acquaintances...
At least he was going it alone. No bungling from his men, no interferences...
Just a young woman fawning herself in front of his tuxedo clad form. Pale yellow dress, form-fitted... He could barely refrain from lifting a questioning eyebrow at her as he agreed to dance with her -- which also left him open to more of her blithering chatter, sadly, yet to refuse would have drawn questions from the other nobility and upper-crust gathered there.
She was young and brainless as well as talkative, but at least the worse Klaus could expect to suffer through the dance was having his ear chatted off. Much preferable to escorting any of the slightly older, predatory women present, who would have been inclined to let their hands run rather than their tongues.
"-Herr Eberbach!" By her light scowl, she had probably tried several times before to gain his attention, and finally earning it made her smile and blush in a manner some would have considered pretty. "I said, you're quite a wonderful dancer. So elegant and graceful!"
"Thank you," he replied automatically, as he turned her loose gently. "You, too, dance well -- very pretty, Fraulein Essen. Perhaps I will see you later in the evening?" Despite her being better than some of his choices, having no one attached to his arm or side was even better than her! "There are connections that I must speak with. A sheer pleasure to meet you."
"Oh, of course!" Though the dance was not yet finished she didn't protest when Klaus pulled her to the side of the floor and thrust her loose from his arms. Probably thought he was being gentlemanly with his stiffness, and she dropped a pert curtsy to his back as he disappeared into the crowd.
Someday, he knew, he'd marry a girl -- and it would have to be one like that, pleased by small shreds of attention and unquestioning. Dim. There was no woman that appealed to him, so he'd already been gathering a list of attributes that would make one tolerable to him. Until it was an necessary, though...
He had no plans of using that list or getting himself a bride. Such a thing would have interfered with his thieving!
Or at least, that was the reasoning he fed to himself. It was a bit harder to put off others when they inquired about his bachelor life -- at his age, and with a fine family name to propagate!
So he had to fall back on using the excuse of wanting to find true love. On not having yet found the right woman to spent the rest of his life with. It hurt to pretend to be a hopeless romantic...
Spotting one of his father's (and arguably his own) friends, he made his way over to the lower-ranking noble, who'd served under his father in the tank corp.
"Ah, Klaus Heinz!" The friend, a respectable though insipid older gentleman, spotted Klaus easily, and pulled him into the little knot of conversation that he was the centre of. "So good of you to accept my invitation, dear boy!" He clapped the tall Graf's shoulder heartily, with a grip that was still quite firm.
"It was my pleasure," Klaus said as pleasantly as he had ever said anything, tone more cordial and less stiff than it had been with the girl. "How have you been, Christoph?"
"Keeping myself occupied, as usual." He released Klaus' shoulder, but only to slide his hand down to grasp his forearm. Deceptively languid brown eyes warmed, the skin at their edges crinkling into well-formed lines with pleasure. "God knows, it's been harder and harder to do these days, with your father so long gone."
Klaus swallowed, nodded -- it wasn't hard to act bothered by his father's death, because it *had* bothered him. He just usually kept it packed away neatly in some mental lock-box. "Yes... yes, I know. Only now I do what he used to do, day in and day out. What have you been doing?" The grasp on his forearm... was acceptable. After all, Christoph was a well respected retired military man, if a bit odd in ways. Rather like his father had been.
"A bit of collecting, here and there. You can't fool me like your father -- I know you can appreciate a fine bit of art every bit as much as a tank. I've recently acquired a piece that I'm sure you'll find interesting. Can't wait to show it to you!" One last squeeze released Klaus' arm, though Christoph kept him close as he began to escort him around the intimate circle, making and renewing introductions.
Somewhere along the line Klaus was passed a cigar.
"So, what's this piece that you've acquired?" Klaus asked Christoph, fishing into his pocket for the heirloom that was his favourite lighter. Cigars were all right, and the fact that that circle was smoking told him it was acceptable later for him to open his favoured unfiltered lung-killers.
He'd barely got the cap flipped back when a lit flame was held before the tip of his cigar, just the perfect polite distance away for him to lean a little and get it caught. A man was offering the light, just as he'd done before for another guest. A young man, tallish, trim suit, confident but not expensive tastes. Probably a less wealthy cousin of one of the smaller noble houses, and as likely not owning anything worth stealing, hardly worth a second glance.
Until Klaus made the mistake of flicking his eyes to the man's face before sweeping them past -- and found himself them straight into the appalled blue of Eroica's.
"It's nothing terribly nice, an incomplete Roman marble, but the craftsmanship is- Ah!" Christoph turned, caught sight of the two men standing together. "An introduction I have forgotten. How inconsiderate of me! Klaus, may I present to you a friend, David Abernathy, from Britain. He is studying military history at the University. David, this is the son of a dear old friend of mine, Graf Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach."
Green-grey had gone almost feral with a look of being *caught*, for a split second, before it was shoved away as if it had never been there. Voice perfectly-- fucking God, no, it was a miracle that he was controlled so well, he uttered, holding a hand out, "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Abernathy. Military history? I hope you're using Christoph here as the resource that he is."
Eroica, curse him, was even faster to recover, allowing Klaus a glimpse of the impeccable and unshakeable social grace that was one of his greatest skills. The hand he offered for shaking was firm and warm, familiar in a way that made the German man's stomach cringe. "Graf Eberbach, is it? The son of Heinz? Christoph has been far more than a valuable resource for my studies. He has been a generous host, regaling my ears with fine tales of his time in the NDF. Your father figured prominently in most, and I've heard a good deal about you as well -- so much that I feel I know you already!"
Would it work? He couldn't, simply *couldn't* have his cover blown at so critical a point in the operation! Not even to give chase to a man never far from his conscious thoughts, for all that fresh news of Panzer hadn't materialised in the several months since their capture by Mischa. It was as if, after the closeness of that escape, the thief had run to ground somewhere, laying low and bidding his time. But now that Dorian knew where it was that he had run to, would he be able to convince the German to trade silence for silence?
And it really hadn't even been running to ground -- it had simply been a near-complete return to his legal persona, until things cooled enough to move again. Until something caught his interest. "Really?" Klaus looked surprised again, but it was the easy, social surprise, and he looked to Christoph again for a moment, that faint smile on his mouth still as it had been before. "So, you're hosting him, Christoph?" /Are you working with him, or is he using you for some job...?/
"Yes, of course!" The arm Christoph slid around the blonde's waist could have been described as lightly possessive, not quite jealous as he doubted there was a basis for it. Klaus had never shown any inclinations in that direction. "I've more than enough room, and am glad for attentive company when I can get it. David has been a marvellous guest, the best any host could hope for."
The almost drop-jawed look on Klaus' face said it all, genuine emotion clear at the motion Christoph had made -- oh, Christ, he was a fag, too! "C...." No, he had to take a breath off the cigar first, and blink again to make sure his eyes weren't lying to him. "Christoph, I... had no idea that you were..." Screw polite company and that other useless shit -- a man who was all but family to him was a *fag*?
"Darling, you're too kind," Dorian smiled at the compliment, unmistakably *leaning* into the arm around him, with a little shifting rub which seemed to make Christoph rather happy. "And you," he swung his gaze to Panzer, "should have known that Christoph is such a kind and generous man! How could you not, having known him all these years?"
Oh, it was tremendously good to score a few points on the astonished Panzer, though he knew that he would be paying for them dearly by the end of the night. But that didn't stop him from reaching a deliberate hand to tickle the slack jaw closed, as his sparkling eyes firmly held Klaus immobile. /Poor thing. If I didn't know you were such a brute, I could almost be sympathetic to see your innocence shattered so. No telling though how you managed to maintain it for so long!/
Klaus all but looked, once he'd shut his mouth, like he'd bitten off his own tongue. Then, Panzer-like in bluntness, he murmured quietly, "I didn't know, Christoph, that you were queer!!" It seemed no shock at all to the others in the circle, and he was starting to feel like the fool, not the two shameless perverts acting like a married straight couple in public!
No -- the 'revelation' seemed to shock no one but Panzer, though his bluntness did cause disapproval to stir conversation in the quiet left by his remark. Christoph looked vaguely uncomfortable, and was clearly working to dredge up an explanation, when Eroica spoke for him. "Haven't you heard, Darling? It's fashionable these days. Why, I'd imagine before too long *all* the gentry will be doing it."
He wanted to snap, but it wouldn't do, not after the initial stir he caused -- instead he pointedly ignored 'David' and looked bluntly at Christoph for an explanation.
For an explanation which quite obviously wasn't going to be delivered in the present, public surroundings. "David," Christoph began, looking apologetic, "why don't you be a dear and hunt up a round of drinks? I'm going to take Klaus up to the gallery to see the new marble. Meet us there?"
/Meet them.../ Oh no! If Panzer got Christoph alone, Eroica could as good as kiss his cover good-bye, the issue of faggishness notwithstanding.
"Thank you," Klaus said by way of stiff good-bye. He would be back, and he would find out what was going on with Eroica when he could get the NATO man *alone*. If he was on a mission, there was no need to foul him up, undercutting the right side of the Cold War in the process. So what if he hated the person working for the cause? "Is the gallery still where it used to be, Christoph?"
"Of course! Some of those pieces are damned heavy. Only going to go to the effort of installing them once -- no point in moving them afterwards!" A light pat to his back released 'David' to procure drinks, and Christoph began to circulate slowly, excusing himself from the party for a while.
Dorian hurried, albeit in an outwardly wandering fashion, to the bar. His own drink and Christoph's were asked for, and to make things simple Panzer -- no, Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach -- got a Scotch as well. /And to think he even gave his middle name, that night in the truck!/ If it hadn't been for extraordinary luck, the NATO man was certain his skills would have uncovered Panzer's true identity sooner rather than later. That much his pride was certain of! But luck had delivered the man to him, just at precisely the moment when Panzer's boorishness and rashness could do his mission the most harm.
/Can't let him get Christoph alone. Have to... do something!/
Something, which began with a flash of inspiration that Panzer would have secretly admired, and ended in Dorian stashing the drinks in a side room and *running* for the kitchen.
Klaus was blessedly unaware of that -- and uncaring of what Dorian was doing. The walk to the gallery was a leisurely one, as was Christoph's habit when heading places. Out in the hallway, it was quiet, free of the social surroundings that had jostled Klaus before. He visibly relaxed, even though the subject matter... was not one tasteful to him. "Why didn't I know before now, Christoph?" he queried slowly, looking over from the corners of his eyes at the older man. Probably, he already guessed, because his father would have had a total fit had he been alive. Yet his father was very much dead.
"Is it such an important thing?" Christoph countered unhappily, the shoulders Klaus knew as still strong enough to win wrestling matches against men half his age slumping a little. "I thought... Well, we- I mean, I have always been discreet, but now that your father is gone... Despite my service record, I'm nobody important. I really haven't much of a reputation to damage, you see, and I'm tired of pretending."
"It's a bit of a shock," Klaus understated firmly, "and it would have killed father to find out. Though.... just make sure that college boy isn't out for your money. I'd hate to see you get taken through the dryers." He was clearly distressed by the news, yet... yet straining to put up a good face for the old friend of the family. Here, walking beside him, was a queer that wasn't immoral or corrupt, wasn't depraved...
It wasn't reasoning through his mind very well.
/Would have killed your father...?! Oh, my dear dear boy... You've no idea, have you?/
If anything, Christoph's shoulders fell further. To Klaus it seemed they were hunched under the tremendous guilt of hiding something of such a severe nature from his friend of so many years. "Don't- Don't worry about David. He's been a breath of fresh air in the manor, truly. Kind and generous with his attention, he's never asked for a thing, but unknowingly given me so much!" He halted abruptly, where it seemed more should have come.
"I'm serious, Christoph -- I think I've seen him somewhere... With a different name. Just... well, I shouldn't have to warn you to keep on your toes. If he makes you happy..." /Swallow your fucking tongue and God-damned spit it out, Klaus!!/ "Then enjoy it while it's there." Hard to give that sort of approval for such... such an *act*, and he was glad that Christoph halted before too many details were given. After all, the reasons of such a thing affecting status or social life... didn't apply to the retired officer. Klaus remembered vividly that Christoph had spent a while after the war dirt poor because his assets and house had been seized. He'd stayed at the Schloss for the years it had taken to fight for the freeze to be removed... /So, he's a queer. He's better than that damned NATO man./
"I intend to," Christoph assured quietly, just as 'David' burst into the room.
"Christoph!" The small tray of drinks he held was firmly *thrust* at Klaus, and he took his hands away before even testing its weight to see if the thief had a secure hold on it. "You must go to the kitchen immediately! The caterer -- oh, what is his name? The stocky one, with the moustache -- he was very discreet about it, but apparently there has been a small problem, a fire." One which a bemused Bonham had deliberately set, leaving his boeuf flambé on the fire for a few seconds too long. A pity to waste such a marvellous dish, but the Major had needed a distraction!
"Oh! Oh my goodness!" Dorian's ruse, combined with the believably panicked way he had delivered it, had the older man all but sprinting from the gallery. "If you'll both excuse me for a moment..."
Klaus didn't even have a chance to get in a last word before Christoph was gone. But once he was sure the man *was* gone, he carefully set aside the tray, then lunged for Dorian, grabbing the front of his shirt in a tight fist. "I don't know what the fuck you're doing here, but I want you *gone*."
For a long moment, it seemed that he'd frightened words right out of the Briton's mouth. There was no glib response, no embarrassing innuendo, not even a remark about the close proximity Klaus' clenched fist had pulled them into. Just Eroica, studying him intently with languid, amusement-tinged eyes of an *incredible* shade of blue. The best of sapphires shared that colour...
/Yes. Yes oh yes! Oh!/ Panzer veneered in the trappings of civility -- smart tuxedo, pristine gloves, hair gleaming in soft light and tucked tidily behind an ear -- produced a sudden surge of want in the NATO man, made all the better because he knew of the ferocity which lurked beneath. /But not now. Christ, what atrocious timing!/ Dorian's own gloved hands worked at the one wrinkling his shirt, cloth preventing their fingers from actually brushing, though they might as well have for the pleasant tingle the contact caused. "If you please... I need to be presentable for the remainder of the evening, and I'd rather not have to return to my room for a new shirt."
"Tell me, *NOW*, what you're doing here, before I break your nose off like a cheap statue," Klaus threatened. "I can snap your cover in half, you ass, and you know it..."
"I really think it would be in your best interests to let go of me," Eroica threatened -- *threatened!* -- as he did his little lip-wetting gesture. It was slow, warmed breath and a flicker of tongue, and then the slightly pinked lips were left glistening moist. It couldn't *possibly* have been unconscious!
It probably wasn't. Whatever laid beneath Panzer's civilised facade was getting growly, as he backed Eroica up to the wall and slammed him there -- though not so hard as to shake the paintings on the walls. "Tell me right now. You're playing with the mind of a family friend and I *will* kill you for doing that unless you've got a *DAMN* good reason for it!"
"You really think I would sleep with a man twice my age -- no matter how attractive -- without a good reason?"
"Then you'd better damn well start talking fast," Klaus growled.
Growled, anger a surge that put their bodies even more tightly together as Panzer pinned the Major to the wall, and-
Well, it was very nearly too much. Dorian gave one last strangled warning, as he began to lean a little. "Darling, if you don't put me down *immediately* I fear I will do something quite rash -- like kiss you."
That got him dropped as if he'd been a grenade clutched in that one strong hand, and Klaus back-stepped twice, though still angry. "Answer me!"
Better -- his head told him that much, for it was glad to be away from the wall and no longer being knocked into it -- but Dorian couldn't help being the tiniest bit disappointed as he straightened the front of his shirt and scowled at Panzer. "He's an Eastern sympathiser, you dolt. Friend of the family? You've just put yourself in a position you truly do not want to be in, Lord Eberbach..."
"Eastern..." Klaus frowned in that unhappy, thoughtful way the expression had happened before in Eroica's presence. "My family has never done anything for the Soviets. Christoph served under my father in the war -- they were war-friends. And if you even think to imply that my family was ever involved in such an underhanded thing!!!"
"I am implying that through association your family will be considered guilty, in the eyes of some. But I am certain you are well aware of this, Klaus." So strange to call him that, but nothing else fit the moment. 'Graf' was too cold, and 'Panzer' was completely unsuited to the situation, and to the man's other persona. "It is not my mission to either clear your name nor besmirch it -- nor is it my intent to harm your father's old lover. Christoph is simply a means to an end, albeit a far more enjoyable one than I've been forced to employ in the past."
"A means to what en---" Klaus cut himself off, grey-green eyes going painfully wide as his mind caught up with his mouth. Had that fucking NATO fruit just said what he thought he said? Defensive was the first and closest stance to take. "Listen here, you fop -- two men can be friends without being God-damned fags!! And my father *never* did such a thing!"
"Are you saying...?" It was Eroica's turn to be flabbergasted, taking a step nearer Panzer as thought furrowed his brows. "How could you not have known?! A prude virgin *and* an ignorant innocent... Honestly -- how have you managed all these years? Had your head buried up your ass?"
It wasn't fair to be caught so off-guard in his homeland by a British fag! Not fair at all, though there never really was a good time to rail about things and life being unfair. "You only said that to set me on edge, and I know it's not true," Klaus murmured, gathering together his composure as though snatching at the air, trying to fly by the strength of his arms alone. "Now tell me what you're using Christoph for."
"Not true?! You're delusional! Perhaps two men can be friends and never get the urge to fuck each other silly, but it's different for two fags, or even a fag and a man!" Another step was taken, before Dorian realised what he was doing and threw his arms up in disgust. "But, do you know what? I don't care whether you believe me or not -- another task which is not part of my mission is to ruin your precious manly image of your father. You'll do that by yourself I'd expect, piecing together heretofore innocuous hints while you lie unable to sleep in the dark. My only concern is for the Stasi who have approached Christoph, not the man himself."
"So you're baby-sitting a doddering old man with too much military knowledge?" Klaus asked, leaping viciously for the chance of a new topic. "Then I'll leave you be in your sick ways of reaching that end."
"Wait!" Relief was short-lived, that Panzer didn't seem about to expose him and ruin the operation. "There is something else. I never imagined that I would find you again, soon enough to ask..."
"Ask what?" Klaus asked. Anger lasted only so long, and beneath it was still that stunned, unsure expression, of a man still trying to muddle through information given to him.
That confusion was surely to Dorian's benefit, beyond that the softened expression it left on Panzer's face was deeply alluring... "Despite that I find your methods extreme and your temper childish, there can't be any mistaking that you're like me -- the best at what you do. I... would like to contract you for a job."
"Payment being what? A one-way trip to the ICPO prison? No, thank you, I'll have to decline your offer," Klaus murmured, turning away firmly to instead study the painting on the wall before him.
"It isn't wise to vex me, Panzer," Dorian spat the cover-name. Judging by the closeness of the words, he was approaching the German's turned back. "Doing so is a lot more likely to get yourself into an Interpol prison than assisting me. Though I could decide to turn your murdering ass over to them anyway. But I'd *much* rather put your skills to use. So, what's your answer? We'll both benefit -- your identity will remain hidden that much longer, and you'll be paid handsomely for your effort."
"What *is* this job?" Eroica was finally asked by the thief.
"Did you by any chance... assist Christoph in set up his security system? It's a bit... more than I expected, and unfortunately beyond my capabilities. And there's a safe, in his bedroom. He's been acting as a go-between for a mole in the West and their Stasi masters in the East. I'm sure that's where he's been keeping information until the handoffs can be made."
"The initial set-up, but he later had a third party come in and manage an upgrade," Klaus shrugged. "Why can't you do it? *You've* obviously spent time in his bedroom!!"
"And the bathroom, the upstairs study -- and that large leather sofa in the library is surprisingly comfortable. You should give it a try one of these days," Dorian replied smugly, falling quiet and retreating to the other side of the room quickly as he heard Christoph's returning footsteps.
Those foot-falls were the only thing that kept Klaus from lunging and killing him, the Major was sure! The atmosphere when Christoph entered was faintly strained, Klaus intently studying a picture that was fairly new since the last time he'd been in the gallery.
"Do you like that?" the older man inquired, nodding at the raucous medieval joust in-miniature Klaus was studying. "Please say that you do, because I bought it on whim, and though I know what I like, I trust your technical expertise to the ends of the world."
Dorian angled his retreat to let it carry him within reach of the older man, where he was expectedly snagged and lightly kissed on the cheek. "So, disaster averted, Christoph? The poor fellow was panicking severely. I hope it wasn't too awful."
"Just a burning bit of food," Christoph murmured, "But once I was downstairs it was hard to excuse myself all over again... Well, Klaus?"
"Oil..." was the absent reply, fingers lifting to *almost* touching the taut surface. He had an eye for it, developed through time and study. "Good technical grasp -- I'd date it post napoleonic, but not too far afterwards."
"Worth the 65,000 marks I paid for it, I hope?"
"It is if you think it is," Dorian replied before Klaus could, smiling at Christoph *fondly* and leaning to kiss him lightly on the lips. "But you're not going to believe that until you hear it from *him*, are you?" That was gently teased, all the worse for the fact that the whole routine was impossibly well-acted and sincere.
"Worth 80,000, at least -- the market for this sort is in a dip right now; you got a lucky price," Klaus murmured, turning from it at last with a slightly warmed expression than the growling he'd done at Dorian before. "It'll go up again, too. Could you, ah.... refrain a little until I'm more used to... seeing that?"
"Seeing...?" Eroica turned artless eyes on Klaus, at the same time nestling himself comfortably into Christoph's encircling arm. He'd meant what he'd told Klaus about sleeping with older men, even though the minor German noble was attractive still, in a worn, experienced sort of way. Still strong too -- he'd not let his form go as some did -- and considerate in bed. "I don't... quite understand..."
The flush that rose on Klaus' high-cheekbones wasn't faked in any way, and he looked away again. Disgust, that had to be what was making him feel hot and uneasy!! He looked to Christoph for at least understanding and the old man's familiar military dignity. "I'm not used to seeing two... people be so affectionate... let alone two men."
"Sorry," Christoph apologised, as he reluctantly turned Dorian loose from his arms. "Klaus Heinz is... Well, he's a fine, proper young man. Very upstanding in the community. Almost old fashioned, in fact... I feel a great deal of fondness for him, just as I did for his father." He gave a nod to Klaus. "So I will honour your request, even though I do consider it a bit harsh of you to be making it to me in the privacy of my own house." A fine, upstanding young man, who Christoph had taken over his knee and spanked soundly on several occasions, and he was NOT about to let Klaus forget that!
"Oh." Dorian was *smirking* at Klaus as he chewed on his bottom lip. "I see... Don't worry about it, Darling. I wouldn't want to make the Graf *uncomfortable*..." His tone said clearly 'any more than he already is'.
Klaus gave a truly grateful nod. "Thank you, Christoph. I appreciate it -- I.... just need some time to digest this, and then I won't impose any more such harsh requests."
"No trouble at all, to give you the time you need," the older man smiled, reaching to pat Klaus on the shoulder. "Now, about that Roman marble...? It's just over this way, and I'm eager to get your opinion on it!"
~~~~~
By the end of the night, and the end of the socialising, dancing with more girls, heading back to the Party That Wouldn't Die, and finally getting up to the room that was his for the next two nights, Klaus' nerves were a wreck.
Christoph, who for all purposes had been like an uncle, more tolerable than his father, was fucking, being fucked by... Ugh, he just didn't want to think about it. It set the thief's stomach on edge, as possibly did the four aspirin and the shot of whiskey that had washed them down.
Probably was fucking and being fucked right this minute, in fact, if the way he and that damned fop NATO man had left the party on each other's arms was any signal. Thankfully Christoph's room was a floor above, but not much different from Klaus' usual room where it fell on that floor, which would actually put it near directly above him.
It didn't matter -- at the first thud he heard above his head he'd shoot at the ceiling.
Well, if he could find his gun still after the six shots of whiskey that had followed the first.
It was only after the sixth shot of whiskey, aged, strong stuff, that he thought of taking off his clothes -- and half succeeded, before he simply gave up and laid back on the bed dishevelled. The ceiling was textured, little ripples that grew in size as they spanned outwards...
Gay. Eroica sincerely thought his father had been a fag, and Christoph *was* one... They'd talked about sharing a house in Switzerland, when his father retired. But he'd died first, and unquestionably altered Klaus' life by doing so. He'd had the title dropped on his head, and instead of joining the military he'd finished university, settled into his thievery and running the estate and properties. And Christoph had been deeply saddened by the loss of Klaus' father, a close friend...
/What if he's right -- what if the damned Major is right? But if that's so, then why did he teach me right from wrong so clearly, if he was *doing* wrong the entire time?!/ There was no answer for it, though -- after all, the old man was dead.
And how could you ask a dead man questions?
There was of course always the option of asking his living friend those questions, but Klaus shied from the mere thought, especially with Eroica close enough to hear the outcome, and perhaps laugh cruelly at it. Eroica, close... No -- merely thinking enraged thoughts about the fop couldn't conjure the man's sweet, flowery scent, no matter how many shots of whisky he'd downed! Which meant...
"Mind if I swing the door closed?" a velvety British voice inquired in a whisper, before doing just that. It latched softly, followed by the second sound of the lock being thrown. "Privacy is better for the sorts of things I have in mind..."
"Go 'way," Klaus growled in a thick, frustrated slur as he woozily started to sit up.
"Can't." And, true to that crisp statement, a weight settled itself at the foot of Klaus' bed. A weight which faintly radiated warmth, and smelled of roses and an underlying musky tang, not distinctly unpleasant but definitely unrecognisable. "Not until I hear from you an answer about this job! It's terribly important, and- Pa- Er... Klaus...? You've been drinking, haven't you?"
" 'll take the... the fuckin' thing," he answered hazily, pushing himself up a little more before he laid down again, deciding that his side was a perfect place to be just then. "'f cour's... 've been drink'n."
"Oh, Christ..." Just what he didn't need! A thief, a *good* one, perfect for his use if not for a few 'minor' flaws -- such as a murderous temper, and a drinking problem. Dorian was terribly unsympathetic as he drawled, "Feel better now that you're plastered? Do it often, perhaps to drown your guilt? I might as well call the deal off, if you're going to be doing this every night. You're absolutely no good to me in this condition!"
" 'n usuhally dri'k," Klaus murmured, closing his eyes tightly, and making an aborted movement to rid himself of the shirt caught half on and half off of him. "'s ben.... a lo'g day..."
/Oh no... No, Darling -- not that!/ If the shirt came off, which it probably only would with Dorian's help, there was fairly little chance that the NATO man could prevent himself from pushing things the tiniest bit farther. And what better time to push than when Panzer was so clearly drunk? He might even be able to steal himself a kiss and not immediately lose a kidney for it!
"A long day... No -- the day we spent suffering Mischa's hospitality -- THAT was a long day. This has been quite pleasant, all in all. Except..." Motion, gentle on the edge of the bed as Dorian scooted warily closer. "You know, I can't believe that I actually feel sorry for you. I shouldn't. You're about the last person on the planet deserving of pity, but if this has to do with Christoph, and your father..."
"They.... w'ren't," was the pathetic, frowned protest as he shifted again, trying to squirm himself free of the shirt's now aggravating constraints. "Fat'r alw'ys stress't th't bei'n fag 's bad..."
It was too pathetic for Dorian not to help him. Cool, gentle fingers stilled his struggles, and slowly eased the tangled shirt off of one of Panzer's arms. The thief could damned well get the rest of it off himself, as if Dorian continued to help he wouldn't stop at the shirt!
It helped, only a little, that as he helped he talked, keeping a light, conversational tone. "Maybe it's bad for nobility, someone in your father's position, and yours, with a history and a name to continue. But Christoph isn't hurting anyone, and neither am I, to give each other company and pleasure. I can't see bad in that."
" 's wr'ng. 'N 'gainst the chur'h. 'n... 's wrong," Klaus mumbled, jerking the other arm free without Dorian's help, then twisting to lay on his back, though his legs were still bent and curled comfortably.
"So is thieving, but that doesn't stop you. At least being homosexual hurts no one."
" 'n father... wou't nev'r... do tha'. 's gross," Klaus went on, having barely -- selectively? -- heard what Dorian said. After all, what reply was there for it? The Major was right!
Gross?! The Major rolled his eyes, letting a deep sigh escape his lips. There was simply no reasoning with a drunk, stubborn German! "Look, I don't want to be involved in any of your ridiculous denial. It's really none of my business what you think of your dead father, or what uncomfortable issues I've inadvertently stirred up. But..."
/But but but./
Damn it -- it *wasn't* his business, but being constantly called 'disgusting' and 'perverted' and 'gross' grated on the nerves! "It isn't gross." Very deliberately, a cool hand was settled on Klaus' bare chest. "You probably say the same of *all* sex, you prude."
" 'm n't a prude," Protest even as he opened his eyes in a bit of startlement at the touch. "Why're y' doin' tha'?" Sex... well, it was all unthinkable to him, male or female, dog, thing, whatever... It was bad, and he found other ways to channel off that thought-clouding energy.
/I'm doing it because your very lovely self is completely within my grasp, for the first time and for perhaps the *only* time, and it's an opportunity I won't waste!/
Dorian wasn't about to say such a thing aloud though, for fear of frightening the man. Instead the hand lessened its pressure a little, hovering with the barest touch to skin, and began to float in a lazy circle. "No reason. I'll stop when you take back the 'gross' remark."
Or when Dorian's control collapsed and he pounced the delectable, horrible man!
" 's all gross," Klaus told him in a strangely *smiled* expression, sleepiness setting in from his drinks. "I... run t' not want it. 's... strang, like th's..."
"You don't know what it's like, strange, gross or otherwise, not having tried it. Such a pity, too... A beautiful man like you could have anyone he wanted in his bed, just by issuing the invitation with a glance." /You could have me now, in fact. I'm still slick, from having been taken by Christoph, and your mouth is probably hot and tasting of your drink and cigarettes./ The sweeping hand caught a nipple, causing the Major to pull in a soft breath when he found it raised and hard, just right for suckling. /Stop, oh stop! Dorian Red Gloria, don't you *dare* ruin this contract and blow your cover by letting your libido get the better of you!/
"Uh-uh," Klaus protested hazily, arching up to try to dislodge that hand. It felt funny, that touch, felt painful -- that was it! It was strangely painful, the emotion it struck up in the pit of his stomach. "St'p, you f'king fahg."
An arch was an arch, and the thief earned more contact for it, rather than ridding himself of Eroica's hand. And if Dorian chose to purposefully mistake the response as a positive one, he felt perfectly justified in doing so. In his experience, no one arched into a touch they were trying actively to evade!
"I'll stop, just as soon as you take back what you said. Say that I'm not disgusting, that Christoph isn't." /And your father.../
"You... *are*," Klaus spat, shifting now to sit up a little, roughly batting off Dorian's hand.
"Say it," Dorian threatened, clamping a hand to Panzer's shoulder and forcing him to recline back. "Don't make me kiss you to prove a point."
"Won' take 't back!" Klaus protested. "It'd be... be gros' 'f you were a girl."
"Fucking prude fucking Germans..." the blonde muttered darkly, as his face leaned ominously close. "If you weren't so fucking handsome, it wouldn't be the crime it is! But your body, Panzer Darling, is *built* for pleasure. Probably screams for it, too, when you accidentally touch yourself in the shower, or slip between your sheets naked... And what do you fucking do about it?! You run. What a fucking waste..."
If his attempt had been to unsettle Klaus by repeated use of that word, drawled softly where the thief used it explosively and with little thought to its meaning, Dorian failed. Luckily, that hadn't been his intent at all. Distraction had been, and just as Panzer's lips parted to deliver another protest Eroica's settled over them possessively.
Liquor, at least with the Major anywhere near him, was something Panzer would cognisantly swear off the very next morning. He would never touch another drop of the stuff, he'd decide, when Eroica was in the same country as he was.
But for the moment, there was no painful thought, only innocent startlement from a man who'd backed a truck over a Soviet just for the fun of it. Painful contrast for Dorian to think on later -- but for the moment he could taste powerful cigarettes and whiskey, soft lips parting in shock.
/Glorious!/ Smoky and heated, just slack enough that Dorian could leisurely meld his mouth to Panzer's in those stunned moments. While it lasted he would take what he could, give a little pleasure in return, and hopefully prove a point. /Oh, so far from disgusting! You know it too, Darling. Even valiantly trying to make your lips firm into their hard line, they resist, still obedient to mine./
Panzer even kissed back a little, before he dropped his head back onto the pillow, looking up at Dorian's still too close to focus on expression. His mouth felt strangely invaded, still, even without those lips against his... Unfamiliar in so many way, and a little chilled in the aftermath. Certainly, though, he was still stunned speechless.
Dorian's expression had resolved from pleasure to disappointment by the time he'd withdrawn far enough to make focusing on it a possibility. "Damned cold fish," he could be heard to mutter softly, as he tried uselessly to convince himself that the fiery German man was just that. /Might as well be, for the little he responded. Probably would have got more passion from a carp./
"N'ver... done 's before," the German man muttered in a quiet slurring tone, closing his eyes almost repletely. " 's funny."
"How do you expect to be any good at it if you never practice?" the blonde snapped quietly, aware that though Panzer's room was on a different hall from most of the guests' that it would still be possible to draw unwanted attention if he spoke too loudly.
Liquor clouded grey green eyes slitted open -- and the rough voice growled an order of, "Do 't a-gain."
"What -- so that I can be certain that you *are* the terrified virgin that you play at?" He was already mostly certain anyway, and hadn't that been all he'd wanted to learn? The Major frowned, his eyes hazed over with thought.
Then, distinctly, a challenge. "No. If you want another damned kiss, take one."
They were already close together... Very, very close, and if asked in the morning, the thief would claim that Dorian had moved -- that he hadn't meant to do it and that the pervert was hallucinating. But for the moment, without anything cognisant in the way, Klaus leaned up that tiny bit and pressed a kiss to the Major's lips. This time it lasted longer, and Klaus moved a little more, awkwardly, trying to learn what was best in the strange flurry of sensations.
Instinct kicked in -- having got away without a knife in the gut the first time, Dorian was feeling remarkably relaxed and careless -- and the kiss that ended, slowly and mutually, was markedly better than its clumsy beginning. Dorian was, after all, an excellent instructor. /Ohh... Oh my. Oh *fuck* what *am* I *doing*?!/
Aside from kissing a beautiful, handsome, feral man who'd all but choked him over a request to keep him warm during their shared night in the back of the Soviet truck. A beautiful, regal thief who was also a ruthless killer and had a temper that set off like pre-warmed kindling. A beautiful, muscular, strong man who might very well break his jaw, neck, legs, back, and arms the next morning, after the hang-over from too much whiskey.
The drunken thief, though, for the moment lifted a hand to Dorian' hair, touching gently, fascinatedly, before leaning up to take yet another kiss.
"D-Darling! Are y-you *sure* that you're... not...?" the Briton had to ask, after that and a fourth, more intricate kiss had concluded. More smoky taste, warmth and the scrape of tongues, and if it hadn't been possible to get drunk off the thief's whisky-soaked mouth and lips, then Dorian had no explanation for his sudden muzzy-headed condition.
"N't?" was the fuzzy question he got in return, Klaus having barely pulled back far enough to focus on Dorian's face. The more he did it with Dorian, kissing, the more... more enjoyable it seemed!
"Aren't..." A thumb absently traced the thief's lips, miraculously soft still! "Aren't... at least a l-little... attracted to me? Oh, I don't *dare* say that other thing, because I need you for the mission! You're already going to be angry enough as it is, come morning, and I *am* a bit narcissistic and *really* not fond of pain, and taking those facts into consideration it would be best... if... you would release my hair so that I can leave before I do something *truly* stupid," the blonde man finished quietly.
"Hmn." That rambling speech lost Klaus somewhere along the line, but he did let his hand slip slowly, so very slowly, from grasping Dorian's hair. "Hmnm, felt good, tho'."
"Yes," Dorian had to agree, simply, as he tucked covers around the half-dressed thief -- covers being a fairly decent deterrent against some of his more lustful urges. "It did. Very very good. I should like to do it with you again some time, when... you can face me sober and tell me the same thing."
The hazed expression frowned at him for a long moment, and then the drunk man seemed to shrug off the rebuke. "You start'd it."
"I did. But it takes two to participate, and I'm certain that that was your tongue in my mouth, just a moment ago." Though it was absolute agony to do so, the last kiss Dorian gave the inebriated thief was a chaste thing, not even square on his lips.
And then, before he could do anything else to put him any higher up on Panzer's shit-list, he left the room, closing the door lightly behind him.
~~~~
If Klaus looked strained and tired around the edges of his eyes, the hard-line that was his mouth dropping as he glanced listlessly over the menu...
Well, Dorian knew why. Dorian had also chosen the quaint place where they were eating breakfast -- he, Christoph and Klaus. Other guests were going to the city, some going home, others sleeping very very late.
It was safest that way, wasn't it? Panzer had a meticulously kept-up public image to worry about, and breakfast in a public place was less likely to include threats, coarse language and violence. The violence in particular Dorian was very keen to avoid! So when Christoph had suggested an intimate little breakfast, Dorian had countered by offering to drive them all to the cafe where he'd first tried to attract the notice of the older man.
It hadn't taken long -- not many days past his setting up a regular residence at the corner table, books and other academic paraphernalia spread around him, learning the habits of the regulars as he pretended to study. And as an added benefit the cafe served very good coffee, and delicate little tea-cakes that were very nearly better than sex.
Klaus was on his second cup of coffee when he decided to actually order food. He looked a bit ill, tired more like, and was far more quiet than the night before -- as if the gears of his mind were working too furiously for him to be able to speak.
It was maddening to have to ignore him in favour of fawning over Christoph, like petting a friendly dog while ignoring the wolf growling ominously just behind you. But what else was Dorian to do but keep his cover tight, ordering a large breakfast and cheerfully talking all the way through it, and dreading the time he might catch Panzer alone and learn the extent of the damage done the previous night.
"Klaus Heinz? Is there something the matter?" Christoph inquired, taking advantage of the silence during one of Dorian's pauses for food. There certainly seemed to be! And outside of the little revelation of the previous night, which really shouldn't have been a revelation to *anyone*, Christoph had no explanation for what might be causing his tired, quiet state.
Klaus' head snapped up, coffee cup in one hand, and a half-smoked cigarette in the other. "I... didn't sleep very well last night -- and I'm thinking. Sorry that I'm not the best of company this morning..." Hopefully Christoph wouldn't press it, though that was unlikely -- but it he was lucky at all, the older man would attribute it to *anything* at all other than the sharp reality.
That he'd got drunk the night before, and that he'd kissed, been kissed by-- /No, don't even think it. It never happened./
"I assure you, he's usually fine company, much better than this!" Christoph told a smiling Dorian, as he shook his head bemusedly. "Fine company, just like his father. And the room he has, next to yours, is the one he's been staying at since he was a boy not taller than my waist! Never had any trouble sleeping there before..."
Dorian nodded, also pretending to be puzzled. "Could have been... something he ate?" Meanwhile, he was stewing in his own private hell. Surely at *any* moment Panzer was going to expose him, or bellow at him, throw a punch, try to stick him in the belly with a fork... And worse, the *exact* time when all his instincts were screaming at him to flaunt the small victory of the kisses was precisely the time he could do no such thing! Quite the opposite -- it was incredibly difficult to keep his voluminous conversation free of any remarks which could be taken the least bit wrong.
"No, I am simply... thinking," was the truthful, painfully so, answer. "About many things. Perhaps I shouldn't bother with such thoughts, because they do me little good." He could kill guards, he could kill Soviets, yet... yet to kill a NATO man was to sign his own death warrant!
"Perhaps it is best to not be thoughtful so early in the morning," Dorian offered helpfully. "Dreams and the left-over excitement of the previous night's party are no doubt the ingredients for your simmering thoughts. I'm certain they will seem trivial, given a few hours of clear-headedness."
"Perhaps," was the almost morose musing, as he took a long drag of the cigarette, then chased it down with a sip of coffee. /Distraction, distraction..../ "Christoph, how old was father when he married?"
"Your father -- married...?" Clearly that was not the most pleasant of topics to the older man, judging by the way it brought out deeply the fine lines around his eyes. But then, it never had been to his father either, and most of what Klaus knew of his long-dead mother had been learned from other people. "It was... several years after the war. Three, I think. I was... twenty-four when I stood as his best man, which would have made him twenty-six." Not so old, especially considering the interruption caused by the war, but also not so young for a Graf with a family name to continue!
Dorian very quietly set down his fork and put his chin in his hand, raptly listening to anything and everything that had to do with Panzer. He certainly wasn't about to get the thief to talk about himself!
"I'm four years over that, now... " Murmured almost absently, as he took another sip of the coffee, that drained off the cup. "There was a... lovely young woman at the party, but..."
"But...?" Christoph prodded, as he was accustomed to having to do when there was some problem eating at Klaus.
Dorian but the inside of his lip and willed himself to be silent, still, invisible.
"None of them ever seem *right*." That was true, and Klaus was glad of some of his... more uncomfortable reputations, glad that he was underestimated in his coldness.
His father's friend reached across the table and set a weathered hand atop Klaus'. "Klaus Heinz... Why is this bothering you suddenly? There is an entire world of possibilities -- surely among them you can find someone who is. Perhaps if you didn't take your duties so seriously, if you would attend more social functions instead of keeping yourself sequestered in that great Schloss..."
"It wouldn't matter -- all I'd meet then is more of the same. Girls with too much make-up and brains they could fit in their small purses," Klaus murmured, straining to not shrug off the hand, though hiding that well. His eyes showed a bit of stress, though, and it matched neatly to his words.
"I still don't understand," Christoph was shaking his head slowly. "This is nothing new. You've never shown more than passing courtesy to any of the young women I've introduced you to, and never before have you been bothered by that fact. Why are you now?"
Dorian knew, and it was very nearly killing him to keep quiet and not share his own conclusions on the matter.
A moment of quiet from Klaus, during which he snubbed out his cigarette on the saucer of his coffee cup, and carefully lit a new one. Then he made a simple gesture of his head between Dorian and Christoph.
The gesture brought Dorian's surprised gaze to Klaus' face, where he couldn't seem to pry it free again, while Christoph delicately cleared his throat and turned a light shade of pink. "My dear boy..." The hand resting atop Klaus' squeezed gently, the same strength-in-reserve feel he'd got the few times he'd held his father's hand when he was very young. "It is different -- very different, I think, from what you desire. I merely wished for company, someone to fill my days with a little cheer, my nights with a little warmth."
"I... guessed as much," Klaus murmured, and the fact that he hadn't protested any gestures that passed between Christoph and Dorian that morning said as much to the older man. "It is, though.... very lonely at the Schloss. Perhaps that is why I'm thinking such things."
/I could come to visit you./ The sentiment was so strong that for a moment Dorian was fearful that he had spoken aloud. And with it came the foolish desire pet Panzer's hand the same as Christoph was, to offer sympathy and comfort for the uncomfortable musings he himself had certainly sparked. /We could talk, argue, slowly discover each other. I want to kiss you again, with your hard, clear eyes on me, and have approval in them when I do it./
"I suppose I should put such things to rest, and let fate fall where it will," Klaus sighed, looking away to signal for the waiter and another cup of coffee.
/Fate has already moved, you blind, stubborn-!/ Dorian wanted to yank the small bouquet of flowers decorating the table out of its vase and bash Panzer over the head. /Me! I'm far from unattractive -- admit it! I have a good brain in my head, and I'm excellent company. A liason couldn't possibly hurt!/
"Don't despair," was Christoph's sage advice, as he raised his own cup for a refill. "In my years, I've been close a few times. Never does any good -- patience I've found serves much better."
"I suppose," Klaus mused, taking a sip of the burning hot stuff right away -- as if trying to sterilise his mouth, perhaps, from the flavour of Dorian's kisses? "What are we doing today, Christoph...? Any plans at all...?"
It was clearly a relief to the older man to have the conversation turn to easier things. "Ah, I'm afraid so." That answer was for Dorian and Klaus both, as he reached for the Briton's hand now, squeezing it apologetically. "My duties as host prevent me from spending as much time with you as I'd like. And you, Klaus Heinz -- I would never *think* to keep you from away from the leisure of the shooting range! In anticipation of your visit I've even stocked some boxes of those horrible little clays that you like so, that no one else can hit. David has an interest of firearms, so you can take him along for company in my stead."
/Shooting... range?/ It was a blessing that Dorian's coffee was so hot. The choking mouth-full he managed to dribble down his shirt could be blamed on that heat, and a scalded tongue.
That drew a real smile from Klaus, sly and decidedly pleased with the idea. "That sounds wonderful, Christoph -- perhaps David is good, hmn? I'm glad you did stock those, because as much as I enjoy looking at art, shooting is quite the pleasure." Though as Dorian already knew -- going on a shooting range with Panzer was a risk to his life!
"Oh no!" 'David' squeaked in protest, dabbing with his napkin at the coffee staining his otherwise pristine (silk, no doubt) shirt. "It was your collection of medieval weapons that I was admiring, Christoph. I'm really no good with a proper gun. Klaus will find me a very poor, dull opponent, I'm afraid."
"Oh, then at least come along so I can teach you some things?" Klaus asked, pleasantly enough, his tired mood seeming to rise up for the first time all morning. /Teach you a lesson or two, you God-damned fop.../
There was a moment of contemplative silence from the blonde, who then stopped dabbing and returned the napkin to his lap, looking far more composed than any man has right to look when faced with the prospect of heading into the woods with an angry Panzer and a loaded shotgun. "If you insist," he answered, primly, that light British accent maddening. "However, you must allow me to return the favour some time. Surely there is some... activity in which you are lacking experience, that I might instruct you in."
Eroica never left a job half-finished. If Panzer was already angry, he might as well drive him to fury. With luck, his aim would degenerate as his temper rose.
"If you can think of something," Klaus challenged carelessly, smiling still. It was... almost, *almost* frightening for Dorian; Christoph failed to consider it so because Klaus had smiled that same smile since he'd been a little boy. And Klaus' father, too, had held a hint of that expression... "If you can hold a gun, I can teach you how to fire it properly. I've managed to do so with a few of the retainers at the Schloss." Meaning that band of men who worked for him.
Thus it was a familiar smile, recalled by Christoph with no small bit of fondness. It was also an anticipative smile, an ordinary one for a day at the shooting range to evoke. Klaus Heinz did *so* enjoy shooting... "The weapon your father favoured is in the gun room, right where you left it the last time," he told Klaus with a smile. "And for David I think something a little lighter, perhaps the one with the blonde oak stock?" A fine, elegant gun, and his hair nearly matched the colour of the glossy wood.
Klaus seemed to follow that same train of thought, because the edge of one lip twitched down into a part-frown. "Yes, that would suit him." /Suit him better if I could rig it to... No, I can't kill him./
"Well, that's settled then." Dorian challenged Panzer with a fearless glare, quickly given while Christoph had his nose buried in his coffee cup draining the last few swallows. He would not -- would *not* be cowed! In fact... the familiar prickle at the base of his skull was excitement, overpowering fear and sense, just the sort he lived for.
"Shall we go?" Klaus invited, sitting up a little to pull his wallet free to get the tab, giving a snap to get the attention of the waiter.
It seemed consent was unanimous. There was the requisite scuffle over the tab, which Dorian won by merit of having been first to get his hands on the little slip of paper, and then not letting it out of his grasp.
Klaus conceded gracefully -- after all, he'd had only coffee and a small plate of eggs, both very inexpensive compared to what Dorian and Christoph had eaten. So Christoph squabbled with Dorian over the tab for a bit, and Klaus watched... while trying to not watch, clearly. Christoph, a Soviet sympathiser? *Why*, he wanted to know, though there was no clear way to get an answer.
No way to ask the man delicately, and just as unthinkable to ask as it would have been to inquire directly if Christoph had indeed been his father's lover. Which left Eroica, whom he might or might not be able to wrestle answers from later on the shooting range. Or, as a last resort, he could probably threaten for the answers he craved...
After all, *he* knew how to aim a shotgun, and Dorian didn't!
When the bill had been taken care of, Klaus rose to his feet, stretching just a little. His clothes were much like he'd worn that day he and Eroica had been captured -- sleek, crisp trousers, a neatly pressed button down shirt. No gun holstered, not that Dorian could see, though it was assured that he had one, maybe more, on him.
The languid motion was enough to draw Eroica's eyes and hold them, the little smile playing about his lips saying that he remembered very well how Panzer had looked in that same outfit, minus his shirt. "Well, are you coming?" he inquired of the dark German, as he linked an arm with Christoph and drew the older man for the exit, and into idle conversation.
~~~~~
The trip back hadn't been so bad, nor had Christoph's efficient break-away to see to his other duties. Leaving Klaus to take Dorian to the gun-room.
"How long have you been here...?" Klaus asked as they walked towards the room.
Dorian, following reluctantly down an unfamiliar side-hall, growled, "Just like that? Not a word about last night, or tonight for that matter... Just playing the sociable fellow guest, inquiring about my stay. I really do not believe you!"
"You really are a stupid fuck, aren't you?" Klaus asked, not even bothering to look at Dorian as they walked. "Fucking Christoph must have addled your brains -- the walls, as you stupid Limeys say, have fucking ears. So answer my God-damned question, and we'll get the fucking guns."
If he had been looking, he would have seen Eroica's mouth curl into a sensual grin. "Much better, Darling. I was beginning to fear that you'd gone civilised on me."
"I can 'go' in whatever direction I choose to go," Klaus growled, ducking into a room that he opened without warning. A quickly flipped light-switch, though, revealed it to be the gun-room.
"Oh...?" Eroica followed, easing the door closed behind him, as if he was quite accustomed to slipping into unfamiliar rooms -- and the privacy they provided -- with strange men. "Then, I suppose leading you is simply a matter of convincing you that you want to go where I want you to."
"Bring up last night again, try for a repeat of it, Eroica, and I'll kill you," Klaus drawled -- it wasn't the angry, *loud* menace that he'd heard from the man before, but a more serious, back-handed anger, quiet and better controlled than most of his fury. "I'll go along with your mission to protect my family name, and to get Christoph out of this shit. But I'm not doing it for any other reason."
"I agree wholeheartedly," Dorian answered, leaning back against the door. Arms crossed, and that loose, ready smile still teasing at his lips, he didn't seem to be taking the death threat at all seriously. "The mission must come first. Otherwise I would have ended the agony of wanting you last night. You'll be guarding yourself carefully now, and I'll probably not get another chance..."
"You're a slut," Klaus uttered, shaking his head as he retrieved the guns and the bullets for each. "Last night wasn't a chance. It was a mistake."
"Your mistake perhaps, for letting your control slip." The Major fluffed his hair absently, pulling the golden filaments between thoughtful fingers much the same way the drunken Panzer had. "I can't decide if you're more jealous of my sexual freedom, you repressed sod, or of Christoph, because he has me to look forward to in his bed every night."
Hard to answer that, when blind fury had the best answer possible in what he grasped in his hands -- guns and bullets! One gun, with the blond barrel, was shoved towards Dorian. "It's none of your business."
The gun, a solid, heavy weight, was deposited into his hands. It was elegant -- Christoph knew his tastes well by now -- and Dorian could appreciate it for its sleekness, for the gleam of well-tended wood and steel. It would be more difficult to appreciate once it was loaded and dangerous, but this particular weapon had never been trained on a person. That, he found, made a difference. "No, I suppose not. A pity, but certainly none of my business."
"It's not a pity," Klaus countered as he led the way out of the room again. What was worse, perhaps about that night, was that he could only remember actions. Nothing of what he'd said, just the motions, kissing Dorian over and over... yet not even an inkling of the words that had left his lips. He might have told Eroica a thousand things that he didn't want to think about...
Dorian followed demurely, the necessary half-step behind which allowed Panzer to choose their path, and, incidentally, for the Major to steal an occasional glance to the German man's lovely ass... /He hasn't killed me yet. That's a good sign, isn't it? Of course, he could simply be waiting until we reach the range. Shooting accidents *do* happen,/ he reminded himself.
"The pity..." mumbled softly, Dorian's thought was quickly internalised. /The pity is that you were starting to respond, last night. The potential is there.../
Circumstance simply hadn't given him the freedom to reach it.
"Is what?" Klaus asked him, leading far out past the gardens of the large house, towards the shooting area. He snagged a gardener, and asked about the box of clays, for them to be loaded.
"Is... only going to make you angry, as it connects yourself and sex in the same train of thought. Forget I said anything." The further from the house they travelled, along the neatly-kept, wooded path, the more free Dorian felt he could be with his words. If he and Panzer were under any surveillance, it would be by his own men.
Not by Panzer's -- the man, working under his persona of the Graf von dem Eberbach, needed no men to watch him or watch out. Because no one linked the two together, until now. But Eroica's men, upon seeing Panzer, would probably panic.
"I'd like to," Klaus scoffed at him, as they strode into the empty field, "but I can't. I don't like to leave things dangling."
The Major kept walking after Panzer halted, slowing and finally stopping perhaps a dozen paces farther into the field. He spun once, slowly taking in the scenery but also scanning for anything out of the ordinary, such as light glinting off metal or lenses. Of course such a cursory search turned up nothing, but it settled his mind a little. Still turned away, he called back, "Neither do I, Darling. But it's your fault, not mine, that there is a connection between us. If you want to be rid of me so badly, and thoughts of me, you should return my painting."
"Your painting?" Klaus laughed quietly at that, stopping to load his gun. "No, I won't return it. I'm going to keep it until I can find a way to get my gun back."
"Fine," Dorian shrugged, "Keep Cousin Benny. Just mind you don't practice kissing on him. I'm fairly certain that saliva isn't good for oil paintings, though you would know more about that than I..." He added with a smirked snort, "I might just decide to keep your gun, anyway -- when I get it back from Mischa."
"Unless I get it first. And I don't see why you say that I'd practice such a... thing..." The shotgun was locked ominously as Panzer looked at him.
"Because if you don't, you'll embarrass yourself on your wedding night," Eroica told him, easily meeting those flat grey-green eyes.
For a moment they sparked, like struck flint, before dulling cold again. "No, I won't. There won't be a wedding night to embarrass myself on, you pervert." A short pause, and he lifted his shot-gun smoothly, still looking at Eroica. "PULL!!!" The sharp bellow brought two clays skidding across the sky at a medium height, and still looking at Eroica, Panzer shot them to bits.
It was hard to not be impressed.
Or rather, it was hard to maintain an outward appearance that was serene and unruffled, when the man Dorian had just spent the morning antagonising had blown two clay targets out of the sky with two precise, careless shots. "You must practice blindfolded," the Major accused, pursing his lips.
"And in the dark," Klaus said agreeably. "You, a spy, must practice with handicaps as well in preparation for any inevitable harm that could befall you."
"I haven't yet been in a life or death situation that shooting little clay discs would have safely got me out of."
"Little clay disks are hard to hit. So are people when running, cars, motorcycles... but you've probably already mastered how to fuck in the dark," Klaus murmured in a darkly amused tone. "Eroica - the slut spy. And you can't shoot, either -- you must have given head to your military instructor to pass you through that course."
"And shooting Christoph would solve the problem of the Stasi? Don't be an ass," Eroica drawled, setting his gun down and himself along with it, to recline in the shade of a nearby tree. Let Panzer stand there like a fool and brutalise harmless bits of pottery -- it was too fine a day to not spend at least a little time appreciating it. "If I can use my body -- my mind, wiles, grace and wit -- to solve the problems thrown against me, *without* harm to myself or anyone else, I'm far, far ahead of you in the game. No imagination except for violence, you fucking sadist..."
"Perhaps I am. So what? Your genteel pursuit of your goals makes you no better a human than a skilled killer like myself. I kill, you fuck. Both are frowned upon by polite society. Eh, *Lord* Gloria?" He replaced the empty casings with two fresh shells, locked the shot-gun closed again.
"Which would make us more alike than is comfortable for you, Herr Eberbach. Isn't that right...?" It was clear suddenly that he wasn't going to be harmed. Not even for the travesty of a few stolen kisses. Panzer might bluster and threaten some more, but it was pointless, all of it, if Dorian already knew the end to the game. He might as well let his eyes close, resting a little in what could only be called the strangest companionable interlude he'd had since... well, since a night spent in a Soviet truck.
"Perhaps," Klaus shrugged before shouting 'PULL' again, and cleanly performing another feat of shooting skill. Somehow, though, it wasn't as enjoyable -- knowing Eroica was there. Best to do such a thing while alone, or in the company of someone who really would enjoy doing it. So once he emptied the casings again, he shouted to the gardener he'd snagged, "That's enough!! I'll come get you if I want more!!"
Dorian barely cracked an eye as Panzer joined him beneath the tree's shade -- well away from the reach. "Not in the mood for destruction?" he questioned. "Is that the excuse you'll give for sparing my neck, after I tarnished your honour last night?"
"I'm in the mood for cleaning this gun before it misfires," Klaus excused, resting his back against the tree's sturdy trunk. "As for last night... I was drunk. It was my stupidity for letting such a thing occur. You're naturally a fag. Fags do faggot-y things"
"Then, I suppose my sleeping with Christoph it excused under the premise that I can't go against my own nature." The Major's fine, long-fingered hand threaded itself in the coarse ground-cover, stroking absently. "So tell me, Klaus. What is the nature of a man raised by fags? Is it to thrust his tongue into other men's mouths the very first time his iron control slips?"
The hand that was twisting at the rifle slipped, for just a moment. "Stop saying that. There's no proof of such a thing because my father was *not* a damned queer! Why do you keep saying that, other than to raise my hackles?"
"Exercising my new-found impunity...?" It was presented as a question because Dorian was certain that Panzer wouldn't accept it as his answer. "Really, it is because I stupidly hoped that it might... change something. I don't know. Christoph *was* in love with your father, still is to some extent. That is clear as glass to read, for anyone with half a mind and a grain of sensitivity. Considering some of the things he's said about Heinz, I just assumed that... it was mutual."
"Thinks like what?" Klaus asked, pulling a polishing cloth from his pocket.
"Little things. Private." Dorian shrugged, pulling up a bit of grass to rub it between his fingers. The broken stalk released a green tang. A more pleasant scent, he decided, than the machine oil Klaus insisted on reeking of. "Now and then he slips, speaking about him as if he were still alive. It-"
The grass was scattered, Eroica's hand releasing it to a slight breeze as he shook his head unhappily. "I feel uncomfortable in those moments, a third person intruding on something private."
"Something can actually unsettle you?" Klaus asked, laughing faintly, though the sound wasn't well at ease. "Moments like what? How does he slip?"
" 's private," the Briton repeated, more forcefully. "If you want to ask him about it, then ask. Seems that's how you've learned most of what you know about your father anyway."
"I was sent to school young -- I came back when I got a call that he'd died," Klaus murmured with a bare shrug -- one that was either just plain cold, or defensive and stand-offish, which was far more likely. "Perhaps I will ask."
"You're lucky. I only *wish* that mine was dead."
"Why? You don't seem the sort to wish someone death," Panzer joked mercilessly.
"I'll introduce you to my father sometime," Eroica threatened, "so that you can join me in wishing him ill. "I'm sure he'll find something about you to be critical of, especially if he thinks you're an intimate of mine. A million times worse if he thinks you're my lover."
"Apparently him being that way hasn't deterred you from anything," Klaus pointed out, setting the shot-gun aside to shift his hips a little, unbuckling his belt.
At that small motion Eroica's eyes grew suddenly wide and transfixed. "What are you-?!"
Klaus didn't pause at all, unzipping his pants smoothly, part way, and then he reached *in*, almost ominously, only to fidget around for a moment!! What the *hell* was he doing, Eroica had to wonder...
Until the man pulled a pistol from the holster on the inside of his leg, and zipped himself back up.
"My God!" the stunned Briton exploded, when he could no longer hold back his amazement. "For a prude, you have absolutely *no* sense of modesty!" And wasn't it a good thing that he hadn't undressed the drunken Panzer?! Who knew how many *other* weapons were stashed under his clothing. One could have accidentally gone off!
"It's just a gun," Klaus scoffed, unloading the clip, and the bullet he had in the barrel to prevent it from firing as he cleaned. "*I* have no sense of modesty? This coming from someone who fucks for missions? I'm not really surprised your father doesn't approve..."
"But you just-! You..." Just opened *wide* his pants in Dorian's presence, so that the NATO man had got a fairly good eyeful of shiver-inducing tight grey underpants. Tight *tight* underpants, filled out just to his liking with the soft curve of the man's cock, hidden behind only a thin layer of cloth... "Oh God..." the blonde muttered again, suddenly squirming in discomfort. "That was just cruel."
Klaus was busily polishing his gun, though. Polishing his gun... Dorian had to wonder how subconsciously Freudian Klaus was!! Murder and shooting could very well have been sexually arousing for him... but if that were true, such precise shots as he'd taken at those clays would have aroused him a little. But no, it hadn't -- his cock, from what Dorian had seem, was limp, but still filling out his briefs nicely.
All the more reason to hate the man's prudishness.
"What was cruel?"
"You- You sadistic COCK TEASE!" the blonde shrieked, leaning to give Panzer a hard shove. "I can't fucking *believe* that you would do that, and then play at innocence!"
"Do what? I just grabbed my fucking gun!" Klaus startled, almost *dropping* said weapon, but he was glad that he'd emptied it of bullets. "You shouldn't have been looking!"
"You said it yourself," sniffed Dorian, stalking to his feet. A difficult feat to accomplish, with already tight leather pants made unbearable by the sudden presence of a raging erection. "Faggish nature. I can no more help looking, and being aroused by the sight, than you can for being offended that I would look."
"Then you shouldn't bitch about what you're looking at," Klaus growled, returning his attention to his weapon and its careful cleaning.
Oh, it was time to extract a painful revenge, hopefully making the thief every bit as uncomfortable as Dorian was! The Major crossed his arms, glaring mischief down on Klaus. "I wasn't bitching. Far from it -- I was expressing vast disappointment that that marvellous cock of yours be languishing weak and listless in those *lovely* underpants, when I would be more than happy to lavish attention on it! What do you say -- hm...?" He dropped his voice to a rough purr, one that skittered not unpleasantly up the German man's spine. And worse, he dropped to his knees smoothly before Klaus, slowly edging out a hand. "Why don't you let me finish last night's instruction? If anyone sees, you can say that I was helping you to reach another gun."
Discomfort being the goal, Dorian scored firmly. It started subtly enough, the hand holding the pistol giving a sharp tremor of the sort Dorian's hands gave when grasping such a weapon when loaded. The muzzle dipped, and Klaus quickly grasped it with both hands to steadily set it on the grass. "Leave me alone."
Eroica's hand landed, very lightly resting on one of Panzer's knees. "Stop insulting me, then," he countered, words that should have been sharp delivered in a purr. "It is a game you can't win against me. You make me angry with your ignorant, cruel remarks -- it's true. But not much, or for long. I've been hearing worse all my life, from people who mean a great deal more to me than *you*." His father for one, the elder Gloria. "And I can shake your nerves apart with a few choice suggestions."
The muscles around the knee where he laid his hand were shaking with tension -- more proof, that Eroica didn't need, that he unsettled Panzer so much, so seemingly easily. Yet grey-green eyes hide most of that unease, though rich, rough voice didn't reach the same aloofness. "That seems... a double standard. After all, you've gotten me to do this mission for you through a threat and an insult."
In light of that proof, it was perhaps a little cruel for Eroica to flex his fingers just a bit, squeezing Panzer's knee. But the man's muscles were so tense it was possible that he hadn't even noticed. "Haven't I proven to you yet that I'm not stupid? Don't pretend to be doing me any favours, when I know you're helping me only for Christoph's sake, and your own, and that you might still decide to turn on me at any moment and stick a knife into my back."
"You're good at what you do," Klaus growled, "And it's for a decent cause. Maim you, perhaps. Kill you, no. But I am doing this mission only because of my status."
The hand squeezed again, in warning, and tightly enough this time that Panzer couldn't have not felt it. "What was that, Panzer? Another threat? Shall I tell you exactly why you'll never carry it out? You may not wish to hear my logic -- it involves the warmest, most easy expression I've seen you wear yet, as you wound your fingers in my hair and pulled my mouth to yours for another kiss-"
He didn't have a chance to say anything more -- because Panzer backhanded him across his seductive lips, that lean jaw, startled by his own sudden burst of fury. "That's enough!!"
There was more than enough force in the blow to knock the NATO man away. He caught himself on a hand, the other raising to brush at his stinging mouth, and even before trembling fingers were lifted away he knew they would be bloody. He'd tasted the tang as he licked his lips, widened sapphire eyes helpless to leave Panzer's face. "That was... un-called for."
"It was perfectly called for," Klaus murmured, hand shaking now with half-used fury. His gun was re-loaded, the polishing cloth shoved back away into his pocket. To re-holster his gun again... perhaps he'd given the fag enough of a scare for the moment to be able to do so without molestation. Keeping a wary eye on Dorian, he shifted minutely and unzipped his pants to put the weapon away.
The Major's eyes dropped immediately, unabashedly greedy for the little they could see of the contents of Panzer's pants, before he zipped himself back up again.
Apparently no lesson had been learned, by either one of them.
"It was un-called for," Dorian dredged, wincing when the words hurt his mouth. He noticed that his fingers still had blood on them, from where he'd wiped at the cut edge, and he absently licked them clean. "Vulgar and brutish besides, and the next time you decide to throw a tantrum over life's unfairnesses, at least be certain that your aim is good. You managed to miss hitting the person you're truly angry at, Darling."
"And who would that be?" Klaus bit in return, quickly stuffing his pistol back into the holster and closing it, then zipping his pants back up.
"You're not stupid either. Figure it out for yourself."
That bit into him, too, just like the words that had come before it. No, he wasn't stupid, though Dorian was quicker on his tongue than Klaus was. "Perhaps I don't want to. Perhaps I don't care -- there's no reason I have to give in to your sick innuendoes," he muttered, buckling his belt up again, then smoothing the legs of his trousers after lazily drawing one up to his chest.
"No reason for them to bother you, either, if you're so certain that you're immune to them..." That was grumbled sullenly, as Dorian settled himself just where he'd been knocked, reclining easily in a manner which made his dirt and grass surroundings seem elegant. "And perhaps... Perhaps I don't even mean them. Perhaps I'm just getting back at you for the leg -- I do have a very faint scar, by the way, and will show it to you if you ask nicely -- and find this the easiest way to do it."
Oh, and that was such a lie! The easiest way of doing anything usually brought the least satisfaction, and Eroica was *all* about satisfaction. Further, he sincerely believed in every carelessly drawled innuendo, and was even suffering the faint hope that if he shot enough at them at the man-tank, a weakness in Panzer's armour would eventually come to light. Not that any of those thoughts came near to touching his expression. He held it adeptly to an affected, arrogant nonchalance.
"Ah, I forget -- you use sex as a weapon," Klaus shorted, resting his chin on his knee. The very same knee that Dorian had been touching, even! He went on, in a calmer, languid drawl, "enjoy your fun, then, in your back-handed 'art'. I'd rather a knife in my back than someone seducing me to hurt me through it."
"Then you have nothing to worry about, because even I cannot touch a man with no heart." Dorian shot back, unhappy to see Panzer regain his composure.
"No heart?" Klaus sounded amused, simply shaking his head at the accusation. No, such a thing wasn't true -- else he wouldn't care about what happened to Christoph, the long-time family friend. Perhaps he denied it often, yet... yet it was there. An accusation so false left no sting at all.
Its non-effect did leave Eroica glowering at him, waiting for the enraged comeback that wouldn't be spoken, and wondering how in the bloody hell the tables had been turned on him so damned neatly. From clear victory to a sudden rout, the best he could do to salvage his pride was turn stiffly away, hunching his shoulders with a distinctly growled, "Fuck."
Klaus was quietly pleased with himself, and decided to go back to cleaning his shot-gun as meticulously as before. "So, going to give me details on this mission?"
Common sense screamed that it would be insane to waste one of Panzer's rare benign moods, so Dorian plastered his face -- all save his slightly swollen and reddened mouth, which typically looked as if the blonde had been kissed breathless rather than hit -- with an aloof expression and replied, "What details? I'll fetch you when it's time. Christoph will be drugged and sleeping soundly. You'll crack the safe, bring me the evidence, and put it back when I'm finished with it."
"So that's it? Rather simple," Klaus mused lightly, looking at Dorian with only half his attention. "Were you trying to get me to do it last night?"
"What did you expect -- fucking rocket science?!" the NATO man bit out, immediately dampening his tone after. He'd just made up the plan on the spot, but he knew from experience that simplicity was always best, and that even the best-laid plans changed in mid-execution as instinct demanded. He added peckishly, "Last night I just wanted to talk to you, to iron things out in case I didn't have the chance to today."
"You could have gone in, seen that I was drunk, and left -- why didn't you?"
A wry snort. "What fag can resist the temptation of a beautiful man, sprawled drunkenly across his bed, clothes half-way off?"
"You should have just left," Klaus told him, tone still calm and amused, while Dorian seemed to be simmering. "You could have done the same to any drunk and gotten such a reaction."
"Are you so certain, Darling?" the blonde cooed. Better that sugary tone than the disgusted snarl that wanted to leave his lips. "I have experience kissing drunken men, while I'm quite certain that you have no experience kissing anything at all."
There. That dart struck home, as could be seen from the way Panzer seemed to wince minutely, cheeks colouring slightly. "You're right."
Small satisfaction, gained from a cheap shot. Still, it stirred Eroica's mood slightly, a whisper of wind to still sails; a gust would have been preferred, but any movement at all was appreciated. "And I'm supposed to be pleased with myself for noticing what would have been apparent to an imbecile?"
That was, if nothing else, a still cheaper shot, wounding an ego that in that particular area had little that served as a line of defence. With every pot-shot he took and succeeded he could see Panzer's patience slip. "Imbecile, huh? Well, fuck you -- one moment you're going on like it's a treasure, the next, imbeciles, huh? Fuck off, *whore*."
It was, irrational to react so -- but Panzer wasn't thinking rationally when he was angry. He stood up, put two fresh shells into the shot-gun...
And then stormed past Eroica.
"Oh -- have I upset you? Well, it's nice to know that you're capable of at least one emotion, you fucking cold brick!" Eroica's parting remark chased after him, thrown with the little heat the blonde could muster. It was difficult to be too angry at a man so gorgeously stubborn, and easy to be pleased with himself, as Dorian had apparently, surprisingly, won the field.
It shouldn't have startled him, though, when after a quick glance backwards, and a slight feint of motion, Panzer *fired* at him, purposefully clipping the tree just behind him.
The ringing of those shots lingered in Eroica's ears long after Klaus had disappeared into the gardens again.
~~~~~
/Tight pants./
That was, Dorian decided, another thing that he was thankful for. He had a list going in his head, already quite long, and he mentally tacked that item to the end of it.
Boredom being a chief bane of the intelligence community, the British agent had long ago devised a slew of games to keep himself occupied through agonising periods of inactivity and waiting, such as the remainder of the afternoon had been. This was a favourite -- to list things that made him happy, angry, melancholy, any emotion at all under the sun. Today he was working on thankful, all the way through the alphabet, and he was already to the letter 'T'.
/Thick walls.../ So that he hadn't had to hear Panzer storming around the room next door, making ready to attend dinner. An injured mouth and no explanation for it had caused Dorian to be conspicuously absent; the excuse of illness probably making the idiot thief responsible snigger into his wine glass.
Illness. Faggishness probably *was* an illness in Panzer's mind...
"David?" Christoph knocked lightly on the door, voice concerned clearly as he leaned against it. "Dinner is over, but I've brought some up for you..."
"Oh!" A soft creak of furniture could be heard, Dorian rising from bed and padding to the door. He opened it slowly, blinking at the bright hallway light that invaded his pleasantly dim room. "Thank you." He took the tray, turning inside with a gesture that was part invitation, part effort to keep Christoph's eyes away from his face and from noticing his bruise.
Christoph closed the door, entering the comfort of Dorian's dim room. "A pity you missed dinner, David -- I hope that you're not too ill..."
"Nothing too dreadful," the blonde roused, putting warmth into his voice. "Just a headache, from... the guns. Next time I go shooting, remind me to bring hearing protection."
"Mmm, yes -- I should have warned you, I suppose, that Klaus is a very good, fast shot. Did he keep you out there firing for too long? Sometimes he gets... very enthusiastic about it," Christoph excused as he neared the younger man.
"Yes, he is quite good," Dorian agreed. As Christoph approached him, he could see that the blonde's smile was slightly pained, one edge held static through his compliment. "But I didn't mind staying at all. The fresh air was pleasant."
"David..." Christoph's voice was serious and deeply caring -- undeniably tender and loving -- as he reached out a hand to touch Dorian's jaw on the affected side. "What happened to you? Your mouth..."
Dorian took Christoph's hand in both of his, smiling more as he gently massaged the still-strong fingers. "Nothing. A small accident -- Klaus was clumsy."
"Klaus? What did Klaus do to split your lip?" Christoph asked, squeezing Dorian's gentle fingers with sharp concern.
"An accident," Dorian repeated, utterly believably, and then on a vicious whim added, "If you feel impelled to know the story, have him tell it." Because, as Dorian hinted by raising Christoph's hand to his lips and kissing it gently, he had other, more important things on his mind.
That hand turned slowly, stroked over Dorian's cheek, then drew him near to lightly kiss near the wound. Very skilled, erotic yet strong... "I'll ask him about it, then, after you eat," he mused quietly. "I think I need to tell him... about his father..."
Christoph was a wonder, truly. Aside from his progressed age and misplaced sympathies, Eroica couldn't find fault with him as a lover. It was with real pleasure that the younger man pressed himself into the kiss and into the warm, firm body, greedily soaking up Christoph's tender attention. "Mmn... He was a lucky man to have you, and must have been... something special." /A pity his son couldn't have been more like him./
"I can't see why Klaus... is so obstinate," Christoph mused in a soft murmur. "Fear can blind, I suppose... You should really be eating David, and now..." Kissing, so carefully around that cut.
"Yes Darling," Dorian murmured obediently, lingering for a few more delightful kisses before pulling gently away. "I'll take the tray down to the kitchen when I'm finished with it, and I promise to eat everything on it. No need to make Cook watch out for me, just to make sure."
"There are a few things I should tend to, David... Tonight, dear one...?" Christoph questioned without pressing, though he did linger pleasantly near the younger man.
"Yes, tonight..." Dorian echoed, his velvety tone more a promise than his words. "When you've finished with your business, don't bother to look for me here. I'll be in your bedroom." Waiting eagerly in silk pyjamas, with a chilled bottle of wine and a sleeping draught. Though, it would be a great shame to drug Christoph too early, before he had another chance to be the recipient of the man's slow, tender lovemaking...
And then there was the problem that would loom when it was all over -- how to break it off with such a fine, caring man...
For his words, he got a brilliant, warm smile, and then Christoph headed downstairs -- to snag Klaus and have a talk with him.
Klaus was eventually found in the library, listlessly studying one of David's books on mechanised warfare. Wordlessly Christoph invited himself in, closed the door behind him and *locked* it, and settled himself on the couch's soft, buttery leather after placing a glass of whisky on the table at Klaus' elbow. From his own glass he took a sip, causing the ice in it to roll and clink. "I'm not surprised that you prefer that stern chair to the sofa's comfort. It was a favourite of your father's."
There -- that seemed a painless way to open the conversation.
"I don't need a drink," Klaus murmured, glancing at the whiskey after a moment, though he did close the book quietly. "How has your day been?"
"Good, good..." Another sip -- the man was clearly bolstering himself for some task with drink, and when Klaus even looked as if he might leave the chair he got himself a *glare*.
Which brought about a surprised lift of one dark eyebrow. "Is there something you want to talk about...?"
Frankly... "Yes." And a lucky thing for him that Klaus Heinz had inherited his father's directness. "There's something I've been thinking about, since last night..."
"You, too?" Klaus asked, that eyebrow falling a little. "Last night must have not been a good night for sleeping, then..."
"Klaus Heinz!" That was Christoph's serious tone, still quiet though a vibrant, room-filling growl. "I'm very serious! I've... something important to say, which might have been said a long time ago, had I only known of your ignorance. It is not something I or anyone else intentionally kept hidden from you -- please understand that."
Hidden? Very little was ever really hidden from Panzer, except...
Except.
"David..." Klaus fell silent a moment, not wasting too much time because he knew he was cutting Christoph off. "David told me to ask you about my father. Is that what you're going to tell me?"
Christoph was clearly startled, aside from interrupted. He nearly lost his grip on his whisky glass, recovered it masterfully, and took a long swallow before attempting to say anything further. "He, ah... he did? What... precisely did he tell you to ask about?"
"If you and my father were lovers. I told him that such a thing was... impossible, but..." Klaus swallowed dryly, eyeing that glass. "But he said so last night, too, and that was why I couldn't sleep. I drank a half bottle of whiskey, too... and that doesn't really help."
"Impossible why?" Christoph demanded sharply, his tone telling Klaus what he needed to know.
"Because a man's father isn't supposed to teach him that homosexuals don't deserve to be alive if he is one himself," Klaus murmured, tone all very simple -- dark, half-disbelieving confusion.
There was little Christoph could do to alleviate it, save to stumble onwards. Explanation fell out in a rush. "He might, if he was internally conflicted... You know well what duty meant to Hei- your father. He... had a very difficult time reconciling his... urges with the life he and everyone else expected of him. And then there was your mother, and I've never seen a man more filled with self-loathing as your father was, the day he admitted to me that her death was more relief to him than sorrow."
That left another sting of pain, one Klaus wasn't willing to face yet, or perhaps ever. He remember very little of her -- only that when she'd been alive, he'd been happy. She played piano, kept the house warm... and unlike his father, had treated him like something more than an underfoot pest that got in the way during parties, never to be seen except on the holidays. "I don't understand... I don't want to understand."
"Then don't," Christoph sighed, hunching his shoulders in what was more a gesture of defeat than a shrug. Your unwillingness to face this leads me to believe that Heinz was right to keep you ignorant. I don't regret having told you though, even if it means losing the closeness you and I have." Which would be a great tragedy. Klaus was the son Christoph had never had.
"What is there to face, Christoph? That my father was *lying* to me, saying one thing and doing another?" Klaus let his fingers, aching for the familiar feel of a gun just then, stroke over the leather cover of the book he still held. "I don't see what there is to face. So, you're... that way. It doesn't change anything."
"Except that now you're trying to decide whether to hate him -- I can see that in your eyes."
Grey-green eyes slid shut, hiding those emotions' toil. Childish, Klaus knew, to hide even then... "I can't hate someone I never knew."
That won him a slow, grateful nod, even though Christoph couldn't be sure Klaus' heart agreed with his lips. "Just... don't think ill of him that he kept himself such a stranger. It was to protect you, the only way he knew how. He loved you, Klaus."
"He would have protected me better if he had've told me to start with," Klaus muttered, aching fingers still feeling over the book. Christoph was a fag, his own father was supposedly one... and Eroica. He couldn't shun them simply because... well, what his father had drilled into his mind was so painfully hypocritical in retrospect, yet he was at a loss for any other way to *act*. And Eroica, that damned fag fop... "It's hard."
"He couldn't have raised you the way he did, if he'd told you." Christoph's face, weathered and familiar, remained impassive, though emotion was starting to bleed into his choked voice. "Based on his own experience, of spending his life with one person and giving his heart to another... He would have done anything to keep you from the same misery, including raise you to despise people such as himself. It was hard for him too, but I respect his memory too much to question his choices."
"It... has it's ripple effects," Klaus murmured contemplatively. Yes, he was *going* to have asked Christoph for a bit of advice, yet... yet the masks weren't needed anymore, not really. He could still hide the root problem. "The repercussions are catching up with me."
"You will adjust." Christoph chased his assurance with a gulp of whisky, which seemed to loosen him a little. At least, some of the tension lines around his eyes faded. "I have every faith in you, Klaus Heinz. You're a good, strong man, too strong to not take something like this in stride."
"I think I might be queer."
"Because your father was?" Christoph shook his head, wondering how he'd not anticipated such a statement.
"Last night... one of the male guests came into my room and kissed me. I was too drunk to get angry... and enjoyed it quite a bit," Klaus murmured, not looking at Christoph.
So, the conclusion was a little more difficult than simply piecing together his unmarried state and his father's leanings. Christoph considered, meticulously, leaving Klaus to simmer in the resulting silence.
"It was... also the first time that I've ever kissed... anyone," Klaus murmured. "It's all been rather too much for me to process in... barely two days."
"The first?" Christoph's brows drew slowly together, and Klaus recognised the expression as one of displeasure, bordering on worse. "And the... attentions you received last night were uninvited," he stated, "And utterly unconscionable. David has a lot to answer for."
David? Dorian. Eroica... /*Shit*. Think on your feet, Klaus.../ But what was there to think?! That if Christoph knew that it was Dorian -- David -- then obviously the man couldn't be seduced that night... "Christoph..." Grey-green eyes opened again, tired in ways that his father's had almost constantly been, looking at Christoph's angry expression. "It was a mistake -- I know he's sorry for it. He does love you."
The elder man was on his feet immediately, stalking with purpose to the door. "It was a mistake -- the last he will make while under my hospitality." Anger, and protective instincts for Klaus, were blessings, because he could postpone being hurt by David's infidelity until he had the chance to process that emotion privately.
/Fuck./ Now Christoph was harder hurt than he would have been if Dorian had been the one to break it... and the 'mission' was a loss already. Klaus remained in the library, deciding to read and keep an ear on the hall-way to prevent anything tremendous from happening.
Christoph was a being of purest ire as he made his way up the stairs. David... *his* David had kissed -- and perhaps done more, it was hard to tell if Klaus would admit or not -- a guest. A guest that was the son of his old lover, almost his own son, for all that it mattered. And David's face... it was Klaus of course. The boy had a temper, though he let it rise less often than his father had -- there was no doubt in Christoph's mind, though, that David had had the hit coming to him
The young student must have been startled when the bedroom door flung open. "I know how your mouth was hurt, David," Christoph pronounced crisply.
He *was* startled, jumping (guiltily?) where he was elegantly reclined on Christoph's bed, browsing through a book. Surprise was smothered too quickly though, as he slowly closed the book and set it aside, and raised confused eyes to his lover. "You do...?"
/He does?! Of fuck -- THINK! What would that dumb fuck of a thief have told him!?/
"You will not lay another hand on him," Christoph growled, without missing a beat. "It's bad enough that he's shy about these things, but for you to take advantage of him when he's *drunk* -- a guest in my house!!"
"Take advantage..." Pretending to process the accusation gave Eroica the time he needed to formulate a course of action, as he raised a trembling hand to touch the edge of his mouth. It was a act worthy of high praise, as he let a little true horror slip into his expression. "Oh no! I think he misunderstood my intentions! This morning, he was so angry... He- He wouldn't listen to anything I had to say, just yelled. And then he hit me, and I was afraid he might do more. But don't be angry at him, please! The fault is mine."
"What were you doing in his room last night, and why did you kiss him?" Christoph all but demanded, stalking closer to his own bed, where Dorian still lounged. "I'm not angry at *him* at all, David."
"But- But I didn't!" the student protested, crawling over to meet his older lover. Hurt was in his eyes, and confusion also, and he made an aborted attempt to touch Christoph's hand. "I ended up in Klaus' room by mistake last night! H-he was very drunk, st-struggling to undress. I used to return to the dorm at night to find my roommate in a similar state, so I knew what to do, how to help him get comfortable... But then he had a hand in my hair and wouldn't let go, and demanded that I kiss him..." So close to the truth, Dorian felt it easy to spin out the story, minus a few glaring omissions.
Oh, his acting would have got loud rounds of applause from his men, had they been there. But it was only Christoph...
And it suddenly made sense to Christoph why Klaus hadn't had any anger other than that one burst that he'd apparently hit David with. Christoph's tightly controlled fury swept out from under him in a rush -- he would just have to... forget the incident, just as David had, so easily, and just as Klaus... would have to.
"I'm sorry I jumped to that conclusion, dearheart," Christoph sighed tiredly, slipping to sit beside his lover on the bed. "It just... didn't seem like Klaus at all..."
"Oh, don't be sorry!" Dorian immediately pressed himself into the curve of the man's shoulder, his relief genuine and strong enough to cause his liquid voice to tremble a little. "If anyone at all should be sorry it's me, for causing the whole mess in the first place! If only I hadn't walked into the wrong room... And then I didn't want to say anything, and cause more embarrassment to us both... Christoph, I'm sorry! I should have told you."
"Yes... and Klaus should have told me the whole story..." Christoph sighed, petting a hand luxuriously through Dorian's thick curls. "Well, I did jump to a conclusion." Lightly, he kissed the side of Dorian's face, just above the bruise. "Forgive me. I should have another talk with him tomorrow... He's trying to muddle through... his sexuality just now, and I believe, drunk or not, a man should have a little propriety."
One more thing to be thankful for -- that Dorian was snuggled contentedly into of Christoph's shoulder, and that the other man didn't catch his eyes pop open in astonishment at the mention of Klaus' 'muddled' sexuality. /Oh, FUCK me! What if he *is* really, and-/ And the thought had simply too much joy to complete. "I think..." the younger man murmured, "That it would be best if I kept away from him for the remainder of his visit."
That would seriously diminish Eroica's dual desires to throttle Panzer for nearly blowing his mission, and to verify his hunch by grabbing him and kissing him silly.
It hurt Christoph that he'd have to do that... because to spend time with either of them would require him to shun the other. "If that is what you want, David..." Then he'd have to oblige. Probably, for Klaus' comfort, avoid him, too, though that had the duel edge of hurting the younger man deeply. After all, it wasn't as if he was social with any of the other guests...
And the Schloss was, as he'd said that morning, such a lonely place.
"I would rather not have to choose between the two of you, though, David," Christoph murmured. "However... let us think about this later, hmn? For now..."
The choice wasn't his to make, as Christoph would eventually learn. But for a while longer, Dorian could provide him companionship and love that was a blend of illusion and truth. "Mmn hm. For now..." The blonde leaned to retrieve two glasses from the side table, pressing one into his lover's hand as he smiled seductively over the rim of his own. "For now, more pleasant thoughts...?"
~~~~~~
Klaus was tense as he waited in his room. God-willing, the mission wasn't botched. God-willing, Eroica would come and tell him that Christoph was asleep before *he* himself could find a way to relieve his stress other than doing sit-ups and push-ups.
It was not a pleasant night, spent waiting for news of two men having sex... Had it happened or not? Worse, he had no idea of how long he could expect to wait before he found out!
How long did sex take? And would Dorian come to get him directly after the act, or would the other man stop and bathe first? He hadn't heard Dorian being kicked angrily out of the house, nor heard a single movement in the man's room next door...
Nor did he, for several more hours. And then the sound which disturbed his listless doze was his bedroom door being locked from the inside, and none too softly at that, by a robed Eroica. His mussed hair was dry, gleaming mutedly in the low light from a single lamp, and with him came again the indistinguishable musky scent which Klaus could now guess had something to do with sex.
No shower, then. He could only hope the Major was wearing something underneath that robe!
The thief tensed, got out of bed almost immediately -- to reveal that same sleek black set of clothes that he'd worn that night Dorian had -- temporarily -- apprehended him. "Is it done?"
Upon closer inspection, Eroica's face could be seen to wear a furious scowl, and his hands, pulled well into the over-long silk sleeves as he stormed across the room to stand and *bristle* before Panzer, were undoubtedly clenched into fists. "No thanks to you, you fuck-up! Christ -- do you even realise that there are lives hanging on this mission?! Use a little fucking *sense* the next time you open your mouth!!"
"You gave me no more God-damned details other than that I'm supposed to fucking steal the contents of his safe!" Klaus snapped firmly. "It was simple conversation with him -- he jumped to the conclusion it was you all on his own!"
"Me who *what*?" the blonde demanded icily.
"I was just *talking* to him," Klaus hissed -- knowing and not caring that it was pathetically vague. "You that came into my room and kissed me! I was talking to him about that!"
Eroica, completely stupefied, could only stare at Klaus as he replayed the thief's words in his head, repeatedly, just to make sure he'd heard correctly. Surely no one was *that* much a fuck-up!
"I didn't say it was you," Klaus growled, pacing around the room for a moment, not looking at him. "I was just talking to him." He certainly wasn't going to tell Eroica that he'd been asking Christoph for advice on it, though he'd never got the chance!
"You obviously didn't have to! THINK, Klaus! How many *other* men have given you cause lately to want to belt them across the face?!" With Panzer already taking up much of the space in the room with his long-strided pacing, Eroica was forced to hold his position, when he also would have liked a way to burn off some of his fury. "So, you as good as told him that I'd kissed you, when my cover is that I'm his lover! Fuck -- even the greenest recruit I've ever trained had more sense than you do. Remind me to *never* kiss you again; it turns your mind to rot, and I hope for your sake that the damage isn't permanent, otherwise you'll be behind bars the next theft you attempt!"
"That's damn fine with me," Klaus bit. "I've no interest in being the target of a professional military whore's desires. Now let me go do my fucking job."
"Fine -- I don't want you anyway, knowing that you kiss like a terrified frog," Dorian sneered. "Go do your fucking job, and return to my room when you're finished. I've got semen dripping down my leg, and I need a fucking shower."
"I don't need to *know* this shit," Klaus snarled, storming off -- at least up to the door, where his motions fell silent again. He opened, and then closed the door quietly behind him as he slipped off into the hall. /Terrified frog... fuck *you*./
Dorian waited, counting ten, and then gave in to a sudden whim to poke curiously through Panzer's belongings before returning to his room and the shower he actually did need. Nothing was found in any of the bureau drawers, in his travel bags, that was of any interest to the NATO man, although he did linger over the temptation of the shirt Panzer had worn earlier in the day. It had looked so elegant and smart on him, and still probably smelled of his cigarettes.
But no -- why would he purloin the German's shirt, when he could have a pair of the man's lovely heather-grey underpants instead?
Humming softly, and with his prize clutched tightly to his chest, Eroica slipped next door. And from there into a nice, hot shower, during which he entertained himself with imagines of a horrified Panzer realising they'd been taken. Worse than horrified if he knew that Dorian had actually *worn* them. Or better -- perhaps he would wear them once, return them before they were missed -- and *then* tell Panzer. Oh yes...
Panzer was unaware, objective intent as he crossed over to the other side of the building, keeping an eye open for any wandering guests or sign of someone who may spot him, then slipped into Christoph's bedroom/
True to Eroica's word, the elder man was arranged comfortably in his bed, the bedclothes around him in telling disarray. Clothing strewn around the room told Klaus that Christoph was naked, though a tender attempt at modesty had been made, a blanket tucked carefully over his chest. His expression was impossibly peaceful and relaxed as he slept deeply, and his lips wore a sated little smile.
Klaus carefully blocked all thoughts of sex from his mind, thoughts of what had certainly happened there while he'd waited, and made his way over to the small safe Christoph had in the corner, tucked under a shelf. He kept quiet, studied the model for a long moment, then gave the knob a quiet spin in each direction.
He did it twice more, then simply spun the dial a few times before the started to enter in the numbers he heard. Standard clock-wise, counter clockwise, clockwise safe, three numbers, so there were only a few possibilities.
On his third try, the lock opened for him.
There wasn't a lot within the safe of interest to a thief looking for information. A few stacks of bonds, deeds and other important, age-browned financial papers; some bits of jewellery and a few military medals; a stack of correspondence, tied neatly with a leather strip. So, the small cylindrical stainless-steel capsule stood out as an oddity.
An oddity that Klaus pocketed after a moment of letting his eyes linger over the correspondence... No, he'd get that another time, look at that when it was less important, now that he knew the combination.
Christoph would undoubtedly be safe left alone in his room sleeping, which meant that Klaus had no reason not to hurry back to Eroica's room with the capsule. At the door, similar enough to his own that they *could* be mistaken, he tried the knob and found it invitingly unlocked.
No sign of Eroica himself, though, other than the bathroom door that was closed and the sound of running water. Semen down his leg, he'd said... Klaus shuddered as he blocked the thought, and started the pace the length of the room. On a whim, he pulled a flattened pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started to smoke once he'd rummaged the Major's room for a lighter.
Presently the sound of water cut off in the bathroom, and a few minutes later Eroica exited into the bedroom proper, a billow of steam escaping behind him. His hands were busy tying the sash of his silk robe, and his expression brightened to discover Panzer waiting for him. "Ah -- back so soon! Sorry to keep you waiting, but being clean always does a great deal to improve my mood. And it will lift a considerable bit more when I hear some certain words from you. Say them, Darling -- say, 'I have the microfilm'."
"It's right in my hand," Klaus murmured, shoving hat hand into his pocket as he stood, flashed it at Dorian with a black-gloved finger. "Easy to get."
"Darling!" Eroica flung himself at Panzer, wrapping his hands around the man's wrist and plucking the little capsule from teasing fingers. The practically-squealed endearment could easily have come from the lips of a woman being propositioned with diamond jewellery, and sent a shiver racing the wrong direction down the thief's spine. "You're wonderful! Marvellous! I could kiss you, but... well... terrified frog and all that..."
"Fuck off 'and all that'," Klaus snapped, pulling away from Eroica's constraining hands. "Understand *that*? Mission over, I did what you wanted, and I don't want to fucking see you again until you want me to put that canister back in his room."
Dorian was already prancing to his suitcase, and presumably the means to copy the microfilm. "Fifteen minutes!" he called back over his shoulder. "And if you're so sick of seeing me, what are you doing still in my room?"
"Waiting for you to copy that," Klaus scowled, though now he was smoking and looking at the door. "I can't keep going in and out -- it'll draw attention."
"Well, if you're going to stay, do it quietly," the Major explained, as he got out a cigar box, lifted out the false bottom, and set about assembling a small, intricate piece of machinery. "No bitching, understand? I need to concentrate."
/No *bitching*?/ Bitching. Klaus lit another cigarette, stifling his response with a heavily drawn breath of smoke, and a little more silent pacing. Bitching... oh, when he left he'd kill the blonde man, just *kill* him... first for using Christoph, then just for being a faggish *ass*!!
/Hm.../ Well, wonders never ceased! Panzer actually *was* silent as Dorian pulled out a pair of thin cotton gloves, delicately extracted the microfilm from the capsule and unrolled it to run it through the machine. The copy process really didn't take all that much concentration, nor was it tricky beyond a need for dexterity. It was simply easier for him to concentrate on important tasks without the distraction of the thief -- and he was a distraction simply by being in Dorian's room!
"Here." When Dorian had checked and double checked his copy for accuracy, returned the film to its capsule and wiped the capsule of fingerprints, he returned it to Panzer by tossing it across the room. "And... thanks."
"Fuck you." Klaus caught it, pocketed it smoothly and then strode out the door, closing it behind him. Somehow, the air out in the hall was cooler, easier to breath than the air in Dorian's bedroom. He'd felt smothered in there...
A quick detour to snub his cigarette out in an ashtray in the hall, and Klaus started back towards Christoph's room.
Ten minutes later, he was back in his room with the packet of correspondence clutched in one hand.
They would undoubtedly be missed, if Christoph looked into the safe before Klaus managed to return them to their place. *If* he returned them at all, for the reason that they'd been taken, the reason they had so caught his eye, was that he had in shifting them to put the capsule away, noticed that the age-faded handwriting belonged to his father.
Now if he could only bring himself to look at them.
It as only after a moment of contemplating -- also that he'd get no more rest that night, and that come morning he'd probably look like a corpse -- and a shot of whiskey that he carefully opened the straps that held the stack together, and looked at the first letter.
The top-most was dated about three months after his mother's death, and seemed to be the most recent letter in the batch. The others were far older, dating probably to their early friendship as fellow soldiers in the NDF. After... Well, for a while after Christoph had moved into the Schloss, had lived there for several years, and thus written communication had not been necessary.
The latest one, then, was where Klaus would start -- his mother's death... Klaus wouldn't believe what Christoph had said his father had said about her death unless he read it himself!
That the letter was creased, as if it had been crumpled and then carefully pressed flat again, did not bode well. Even worse was that it opened with, ~ Can forgiveness be had for one such as myself? ~ After that line there was a blotch, where a fountain pen had rested against the page for too long, before his father's precise script continued.
~ I have no other way to say this but plainly. All other attempts have been failures, destined for the waste bin, and this letter will probably end up there as well. My friend, I cannot continue my life as it stands without having serious thoughts of ending it. While Katrina lived there was duty to bind me, her welfare and Klaus' to consider. Now there is only Klaus, away at school more often than not and in the good care of my brother should anything happen to me. The silent halls of the Schloss are slowly driving me mad. In the void of my life it is your absence I suddenly feel most acutely, my dear Christoph. Please -- I beg, on my knees at your feet. If there is anywhere left in you the affection you held for me years ago, you will respond. Say that you will meet me, or come to visit, anything... ~
It was signed simply, ~ Most humbly and desperately your friend, H. ~
His father was a fag.
His father, his tank commander of a father... Klaus swallowed as it hit him full, and he folded the letter up again, but only after reading it four or five more times. His mother a burden. And him as well -- just... things for his father to have seen to the care of. Not...
/Just fucking stop thinking,/ Klaus snapped as himself, though the well of anger he felt at Christoph for meaning so *damn* much to his father.
The other letters were still here, yet... he wasn't sure if he wanted to read them yet.
Later -- definitely, when he could bolster himself with a good dose of alcohol and not have to worry about falling into Eroica's lecherous hands again. The letters might be missed before that though, and he grudgingly admitted to himself that they ought to be returned, when outside his door he heard another creak open and closed, and footsteps. Eroica, returning to Christoph's room. The letters would have to be stashed in his belongings for return another time.
The next day. He'd return them... the next day, when Christoph was doing something. All he had to do was slip in, open the safe, toss them in, then slip out...
Not so hard a job for the professional thief to accomplish, and with that thought, Klaus finally decided to crawl into bed, after shoving the letters into the back of his suitcase.
~~~~~
It was one of those emotional rains, weeping from dark, damaged clouds in irregular bursts, and producing a soupy fog which clung about the knees, so thick as to soak immediately through the fine linen trousers Dorian wore. It was, in short, a perfectly lovely day for a stroll through the woods -- provided that you were either actively pursuing a case of pneumonia, or had a secret rendezvous to keep.
Though Dorian had gone to the trouble to wear a coat, his reason for being in the woods in the rain was not immediately clear, as the coat was thin and fashionable, no real protection at all from the cold. Perhaps... he was courting illness, but wanted to do it in style?
Or more likely 'David' hadn't any coats that could be described as 'sensible', and Eroica was now paying the costs, in terms of blue lips and full, body-wracking shivers.
Up a fairly steep embankment, slipping on wet grass and mud, and finally his path levelled and cleared, the woods cut by a narrow, infrequently used road. "When I get back to the house, I'm taking a nice, long, *hot* bath," the miserable, sodden Earl complained aloud, letting go his umbrella with one hand to grope for the door handle of the car he seemed not at all surprised to discover there. He threw himself into the passenger seat, slammed the door behind, and sneezed once, delicately, as he held his hands before the heater vent. "Damned miserable weather... The next time I go under cover, I'm risking bringing a radio. Or semaphore flags. I could have stood -- *warm* and *dry* -- in my window and signalled you, Darling..."
"And no one would have noticed?" one of his agents, a short man named Bonham, chuckled as they pulled out. "How's it gone so far, sir, on your end?"
That remark earned the older man a hearty clasp on his shoulder, and a wry smile from his superior. "Good man, Bonham... Always the reason to my rhyme. Don't know what I would do without you constantly cutting my ideas to shreds with your keen sense." Not malicious at all, but chuckled. Eroica truly was grateful, because he knew himself for the whimful creature he was. It was nice to have balance.
The Major sat back in his seat, half listening to the low-volumed hum of conversation the car's radio was emitting. " 's been marvellous, ever since the party ended and that brute thief returned home. I honestly thought he was going to ruin everything."
"What'd he do this time?" Bonham asked as he drove slowly -- best to get Eroica into a better mood than he seemed to be, before breaking the bad news to him!
"Oh, nothing so awful that he couldn't redeem himself with a little helpful safe-cracking," Eroica growled, rubbing his hands together briskly. Feeling was returning to them in painful pin-pricks. "Now, about this hand-off... I trust Christoph is being followed? I'll want another car on him. Make sure he's not lost, but that our men aren't spotted either."
"About the drop-off, sir..."
"Just so long as you didn't put Agent James on surveillance. I wouldn't be surprised if, with his jealousy, he tried to lose Christoph on purpose."
"James is on surveillance, sir, but... the mole, his expected contact agent? His house burned down today. With him in it."
"Bloody fucking hell!"
Yes -- in retrospect Eroica could proudly say that that sentiment had summed up the situation quite nicely.
~~~~~
'Holidays' were a shitty thing! He was sure they were only created to piss people off, put them at risk, and fuck with their minds.
His mind, he was sure, had been thoroughly fucked with. It *had* to have been, for him to be looking at Z the way he was trying to see him. The kiss from Eroica, and the letters... Now other than 'what next to get' he had the question in his mind of 'am I a queer?'
A disturbing question for him to be mulling over, and the *look* he was giving Z as the thief poured him coffee was almost predatory!
Far, far worse than the half-impatient, half-angry look Z was accustomed to receiving -- when Panzer chose to look at him at all, rather than simply barking orders indiscriminately at the lot of them. Nerves made his hand on the silver tea-service tremble slightly, though to his eternal relief he managed not to spill a drop. "W-will there be anything else, Panzer?" he inquired, already backing hopefully for the door.
"Yes, there will be, Z," Klaus murmured, taking a sip of Nescafé. He *did* look a bit angry around the edges... "I told you, didn't I, that I ran into that fucking Major when I was at Christoph's?"
"It wasn't my fault!" was, illogically, the first thing that tumbled from the young blonde's mouth. He looked immediately sheepish, bordering on horrified, and continued with, "But- I mean, that's obvious... No -- what I meant was, you told us. But there was no way for us to have known, to warn you!"
"It doesn't fucking matter. We're going to be paid for a job I pulled for him... and I need to test something. So get the fuck over here."
"T-test something?" Z stammered, nevertheless discovering to his horror his feet instinctively obeying on their own. Four reluctant strides carried him to stand just before the lounging Panzer, and he wondered if it wouldn't be exceedingly bad form to squint his eyes shut. At least that way if it was a new weapon Panzer was wanting to try, he wouldn't see the blow coming...
A hand in his hair was the first thing he felt, Panzer leaning up a little. "Get down here."
/Ow, ow ow.../ "O-okay," he managed to wince as he stumbled to his knees, not entirely unaccustomed to this method of Panzer's for focusing his attention on some missed detail. "What is it that you wanted to test, Sir?"
And then he leaned nearer, jerking Z close. Lips pressed to lips, careful at first, then moving a little, trying to elicit some response from Z other than simply being stunned. But, no luck. It still felt interesting, warm and... But not the same. Z was released quickly, Klaus frowning deeply. "Hmn."
In the petrified moments that followed, Z tried to dig through his mind for *some* explanation as to his leader's impossibly bizarre behaviour. The best he could do was a vaguely recalled custom of the Italian Mafia, something about a kiss of death... /Oh God!!!/
"Well, you can leave now," Klaus told him, sounding oddly displeased as he settled back into his chair, and took a slow drink from the cup Z had poured for him. "I'll let you know what the next target is tonight."
"Y-yes Sir!" Somehow Z made it out of the study, though he found himself far, far down the hall before he recovered a little his nerves. Just in time to, still anxiously looking over his shoulder for the bullets he expected to at any time come blasting through the door, turn the corner and slam into a quickly-moving A.
A staggered, stunned for a moment before he asked, "What's wrong -- is he shooting?!"
A sheet-white Z made a grab for the front of his senior's shirt, and *clung*. "No, but- But-"
"But-but what?" A demanded, stunned to see Z *clinging*.
"He's gonna kill me," the younger thief choked out in a whisper.
"He's going to kill you? Why?" It wasn't an idle fear, with Panzer, though God knew the money and training was good... but it still wasn't an idle threat.
"I don't know! He's going to kill me, and I don't even know what it is that I've done wrong!" Oh, the injustice of it all! He wouldn't feel quite so bad about dying, if it was a punishment he knew he deserved. Unless... Perhaps Panzer had found out about the telephone and the bum?!
"Z, Z, calm down... *why* is he going to ki.... never mind, I'll go... talk to him..." Oh, lord, and there was the *phone* call to deal with, too! Z was pressed away from him carefully, and A drew together all of his strength to pace towards the doorway Z had just come out of.
His courtesy knock at the door was softer than usual, and his call more hesitant, as he informed, "Panzer, Sir...? There's a... telephone call for you."
"Telephone? Who is it?" Klaus asked, getting to his feet and setting his cup aside. When he answered the door he looked... calm, if a bit displeased, still.
Then, A might as well tell him up front, get the explosion out of the way as quickly as possible. "It's... Eroica, Sir," A murmured, with effort holding Panzer's gaze. Looking away was an obvious sign of fear, he reminded himself... "He says that it's very urgent, cussed G out viciously when he wasn't put through to you right away."
"That must have been a shock," Klaus drawled, moving back into the study. He had a phone there, but for his own sanity he kept the ringer off. "He's on the first line, na?"
"Yes, Sir. Do you want the conversation recorded?" A inquired, motioning to the switch near the telephone that would start the recorder. It was kept constantly set-up though off, as matter of privacy. Panzer didn't want his private calls taped.
A moment of debate, then Klaus shook his head. "Not this one." There was barely a pause at all from that dismissal, to picking up and pressing the line number. "Eberbach."
And scarcely another moment before his eardrum was assaulted by a furious shout of, "Kept me fucking waiting long enough! First it was that simpering tart who answered going on and on about you being unavailable -- as if she owns your time -- and then I sit on hold simmering for fifteen minutes, while you're no doubt off wanking!"
"Tart?" Klaus sounded a bit startled, but processed back through it. "Oh, G answered the phone. He'd be your sort, fag. Now why the hell are you calling my house?"
Panzer employed a fag...? An interesting thought. Too bad he hadn't the time presently to ponder it. "Meet me in ten minutes, the little park on the edge of town. The one with the duck pond -- you know it, yes? And bring whatever resources you'll need to smuggle us across the border, into East Germany. That's where they've taken Christoph, and we're going to rescue him."
"What..." /Oh, *shit*!/ "They've taken Christoph? Shit, God-dammit... F!!!! F!!! Get *IN* here!!" A sharp bellow, and Klaus barely bothered to put his hand over the receiver. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-five," Eroica answered, his firm, serious tone and lack of accompanying innuendo proof that he'd shed his foppish persona entirely. "The situation is this: Christoph left this morning, at ten-thirty, to go to town. Alone. The pretence was that he was picking up something, wanted it to be a surprise. He was followed by my men to the contact point, where he was quickly shuffled into another car and lost in an ensuing chase. The contact had soured somehow -- I don't know what went wrong, but the other side spooked... The mole's body was found in the burned-out remains of his house this morning, and it was the Stasi waiting for Christoph."
And there was nothing officially that Eroica could do about any of it. The mission was a failure, though through no discernible fault of his own, and so far as his fat Chief was concerned, the scum Eastern sympathiser Christoph was only getting his due if his Stasi masters blew his brains out and dumped him in an unmarked grave. NATO resources and personnel could not be deployed across the Iron Curtain without possibility of an international incident, and he could be severely punished for the transgression when it was discovered -- there was no 'if' -- even if the rescue was a success...
"*Fuck*.... All right, I'll be there in fifteen, with IDs. Put on workman's clothes, one gun, hidden. I hope you've got an idea of where he is. Bring a picture of yourself, too -- a small one!" And with that, he hung up, just as F burst into the room. "F, I've got a job for you and *fast*."
"Right -- clothes, gun, photograph, in fifteen." Bur Eroica found himself talking to static, and hung up also.
Those demands were relayed to Bonham, who in turn delegated them, discreetly, to the appropriate agents. 'Following orders' was always a viable excuse when Eroica needed the occasional illegal act from his men, though the less they knew the better for all.
Which *didn't* mean that Agent James was stupid. His wail was nearly ear-splitting as he grudgingly delivered over the purloined set of workman's clothes. "Don't go, Sir!!! You'll get yourself killed, running after that nasty old man!"
"I'll hear no arguments," Eroica warned sternly, as he pulled on the clothes James had found him. They were a little snug, patched in places, and it was probably best no to ask where they'd come from. "Christoph is my responsibility -- a good, honourable man, despite being a little politically foolish. I won't leave him to harm, any more than I could one of you -- no matter what that bastard Chief says!"
It would, too, soften the blow of the 'break-up' when it came. One good, good deed to make up for hurts inflicted... And there was the added plus that the man probably meant a lot to Panzer, even if the thief were loathe to admit it. Just one more piece of leverage should he ever need it.
Bonham had the car warmed for him, too, ready to go as soon as he jumped in. "Is this wise, sir?" he asked, almost out of reflex as he roared down to the park.
"Of course not," was Eroica's cheery reply, as he butchered his also-false student identification with a small knife for its photograph. "But it is right, and I'll be in the best of hands..." The most violent too, but there was no doubting that Panzer wasn't an incredibly capable thief and killer.
"If you're sure of it, sir," Bonham acquiesced, pulling to the edge of the park. "Just let you off here?"
"Don't wait for me." Dorian was already out of the car, the closing door almost cutting off his words. Bonham knew that if he wasn't heard back from within twenty-four hours that something had gone wrong, and to not expect his return.
"Yes, sir."
Bonham zipped off straight away, leaving Dorian to meander quickly through the park. Klaus was there, dressed as a workman, with his long, pretty black hair pulled back into such a severe tail that it seemed he'd cut his long locks off entirely.
Thank goodness that he hadn't -- no small number of Dorian's recent daydreams had included running his hands through the glorious stuff -- and the Briton couldn't help a grim smile as he ambled near. To Panzer, it must have appeared that he was happy to see the thief, which was probably a little true also. "Is everything in order?"
"Give me your picture, and I'll finish your ID card. We'll have to drive; it'll take four hours to cross the border, and from there I hope you've got an idea where we're heading," Panzer rumbled, moving near with a fine grade of glue and the thin sheet of laminate to press over the 'ID' when it was done.
"How fast can we afford to travel?" Eroica inquired, leaning with mild curiosity to watch the ID-manufacturing process. "They'll have had nearly two hours on us. If we can cut the lead down to one hour, we'll have a better chance of catching them while Christoph is still alive. They won't take him far inside the border -- I've a pretty good idea where." NATO also had agents working on the other side...
"Back roads only -- we can haul in speed," Klaus murmured, smearing the glue on the back of Dorian's photo, placing it carefully, then tossing the glue into the bushes as he smoothed the laminate over it. "Z's driving."
"Have I met him before?" Dorian questioned, with a bubble of interest, as he looked over to the waiting van and saw two blondes involved in a nearly teary farewell. One he recognised as the poor man who'd gotten himself backhanded for fraternising with Bonham; the other was... cute.
"Oh, *shit*, it's just a run, you *fools*," Klaus barked as they marched over to them both. "A, get lost! Go home -- I'll contact you when we're back. Z, get in the fucking front seat and fucking drive. Eroica, you and I are going to sleep in the back." Well, pose as sleeping -- that way they'd pass through checkpoints easier.
"Remember!" Z was pleading to A, clutching on to his fellow's sleeve. "When he comes back without me, my will is in the large envelope. The smaller ones are for my sisters." For surely this was what the kiss had been about!!! Panzer was going to make him drive into East Germany, and then leave him there! "Oh, oh A... I shall miss you! You've been like a father, a brother..."
Such a touching scene... And the younger one, the driver -- Z? -- was, on closer inspection, more than simply 'cute'. He was adorable, and, disgustingly, probably stood as good a chance as Dorian did of ever getting into Panzer's pants.
It was then that the Briton actually *heard* what Panzer had said to him. The realisation struck him dead in his tracks, where he was still standing, jaw slightly agape, when Klaus impatiently turned back to discover what was keeping him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you -- we're on a time limit. Z, you're going to drive like hell, you understand me? Eroica, get in the *back* with me!"
"So that... we can sleep together...?" Dorian repeated, for the sake of clarification.
"Yes! If we're sleeping in the back, they won't bother interrogating us at the checkpoint, and they won't know you're British!" Klaus tapped his foot on the ground, even as he opened the truck's back door for them to both get in. Was it such a hard concept for the man?
Considering, Dorian quickly decided on the course of action that was less likely to get him smacked for an inappropriately groping hand. "No thanks, Panzer Darling," he grinned uneasily, as he headed past Klaus for the front of the truck. "At least until we reach the checkpoint, I think I'll try my luck with that cute Z fellow. Better than sharing the back of a truck -- again -- with your foul personality, cruel and decidedly un-humorous jokes, and dangerously tempting body."
It hadn't struck Klaus, the innuendo of his request -- but when it did, there was little he could do but snap his jaw closed, get in the back of the truck, and slam the doors closed. There was a large space between the back and the front, where it would be possible later for Dorian to crawl over the back of the seat to get in the back. He perched on the edge of the make-shift sort of seat there, fuming quietly and starting to smoke. One minute flirting, the next insulting... He was gong to *snap* that fag's neck the moment he got him alone.
Z was less than pleased to discover himself sharing the front of the van with the 'God-damned fag Major'. His situation worsened considerably when Dorian attempted small talk, as a way to pass the several hours to the border. "So... Z, is it? Nice to meet you at last, if you're the nice boy I talked to on the telephone. And something tells me that you are..."
That something was probably a ferocious blush, spreading quickly from Z's cheeks to his entire face, his neck -- even his ears went pink! "I'm... um... trying to concentrate on driving, Sir," he answered, quite uncomfortably and well aware of the feel of Panzer's eyes boring through the seat and into the back of his head.
"Eroica, shut the fuck up if you want to get there," Klaus growled at him. " 's why I told you to get back here, so you wouldn't distract him!"
"No," Dorian replied, "I thought that you told me to get back there with you so that you could have a little fun at my expense, watching me squirm. Terribly funny, Panzer. Ha ha."
"Watching you *squirm*? Why the fuck would you do that?"
"Shall I tell him?" Dorian inquired, leaning closer to Z. "I think *you* know what I'm talking about, Darling."
"I've got no fucking idea," Klaus muttered from the back seat, ready to get up to his feet, though, to throttle Dorian if need be!
"I h-have no idea either!" Z protested, thinking that even if he *was* to be dumped in East Germany, that fate was a far cry better than being tossed out of a moving van to be caught under the tires!
"Oh, don't be such an ass," Eroica drawled, being careful not to actually *look* at Klaus, fearful of catching sight of his doubtless furious expression. "You casually drop an incredibly appealing suggestion which you don't actually *mean*, and expect me to think that it was unintentional?! I'm trying to behave -- really I am! But you're sure as hell going out of your way to make it difficult!"
"H-he usually doesn't know he says--eeep!" Z stopped babbling as soon as his lips had parted -- no, a clean death was better than a dirty one!
"I didn't say a God-damned *thing* to you that was a 'suggestion'!" Klaus snapped. "You take everything as God-damned innuendo..."
"You fucking told me to get in the back of the fucking van so that we could fucking SLEEP together!! That wasn't innuendo -- that was- It was..." Dorian scowled, a description for the blatant remark not coming to his mind at all. "Fuck. Just quit doing things that bother me, intentional or not. I'm trying to concentrate on the task ahead."
"You're telling *me* to quit doing things that bother *you*?" Pent-up anger could only be restrained for so long, as Panzer was proving in his particular burst of unhappiness. "Listen, you stupid... I didn't mean it that way! And you fucking *insulted* me -- if you're so damn put off by suggestions like that as you go on about it, then you shouldn't be *bothered* by your own fucking misinterpretations!"
Z risked in the tiny silence before the Major could respond, "I... really think you shouldn't say anything else. Really! He starts to shoot things when he's less angry than this."
The anger seemed less the rough rage that Z was used to though -- more frustration. "Won't shoot him. Fucking NATO... Just drive, dammit, Z, and keep that speed up."
"Yes Sir!" He wanted to lean, to tell the Major that he was lucky, as Panzer seemed to fancy him more than most, but valued his own short life too much to do it.
"See?" Dorian purred smugly, speaking to Z rather than Panzer. "He can bluster all he likes, but he won't dare try to *kill* me until he's managed to avenge his wounded pride and prove that he can kiss better than a terrified frog."
"If Christoph's life weren't on the line, NATO, I wouldn't put up with any more of your shit, Mr. Can't Fire a gun for shit." That frustrated anger was rising hot again, and there was no outlet at all for it!
A terrified frog?! Oh, Z did NOT want to think about that at all! He redoubled his grip on the steering wheel, and blocked out everything else with the pleasant pretense of being deaf.
With the driver ignoring him and Panzer ranting at him from behind, Dorian decided that it was time to crawl into the back. He wasn't taking any more threats from that stubborn, vicious son of a bitch! "Now, you look here, Panzer!" The Briton was flushed with anger as he worked his way between the seats, shaking a finger at Klaus as he managed to stand, if heavily crouched, in the back of the swaying vehicle. "I need your help, and you need mine, and Christoph needs us to work together and stop squabbling if he's to have a chance to live. I- Damn it -- stop looking at me like that!"
"Stop looking at you like what?" Klaus asked venomously from where he sat. "I'm more than happy to work with you, if you drop your fucking obsessions and insults!" The anger... that odd, odd anger was still there, roiling and threatening without Panzer having to make a move at all -- oh, Eroica had *really* pissed the man off!
"Oh, so I'm supposed to make concessions to your temper and sensibilities, but I'm to take your rudeness and threats as matter of fact?" The Major slid gracefully to sit cross-legged, pressing his back to the van wall opposite Panzer. "Well, fuck that, Mr. I Have to be in Charge because I can't stand compromise. I'm willing to swallow my pride, apologise, whatever it takes, in order to *try* to make this partnership work. But I can't see how the bother is worthwhile, when you'll just continue to treat me like a fucking piece of shit someone tracked inside on their shoe."
"I'm only treating you like shit because you keep crossing my damned boundaries!" Klaus snapped again. "How 'm I supposed to treat you when you open conversation with fucking people you don't even know with 'hey, he kisses like a frog' and your summation of me as something considerably *less* than human...?!"
"You're upset about THAT?" Eroica was stunned. "Why should it matter at all to you what a *fag* who you hate thinks of your kissing ability?! You've hated me from the get-go, on that merit alone! If anyone has been treated as less than human it's been the 'fag' you've railed at for being depraved and perverted and *disgusting*."
Klaus' fingers twitched, a spasm towards his gun before his jaw clenched as tightly as his hand did into a fist. "You're entirely against a second chance, aren't you, dammit?" Snapped words as he started to his feet, to *pace* in the small space of the back of the van, head ducked down. That, too, solved him the problem of having to *look* at Eroica.
Eroica managed to negate that benefit though, through the sheer amount of confusion that entered his voice. Klaus could imagine with little effort what the blonde's expression must have looked like to match that voice. "A second chance...? I'm not against them at all, but thought if anyone would be it would be you." After all, a second chance inherently meant that you admitted to having screwed up a first one.
He could see in his mind's eye that one fine blonde brow would be raised, those too blue to be real eyes widened slightly, full lips pursed slightly... /*Fuck*, don't think like that!/ "I'd like one, dammit."
Understanding dawned suddenly, and Dorian reached a hand to tug on Panzer's pant leg as he stumbled past. "Pa- Klaus. Please stop that pathetic pacing and sit down. Pretend that we're both normal, sane human beings, and talk to my face."
"Fine." Pretend...? Well, it would never be true that they were 'normal', by simple virtue of their respective professions. He sat down opposite the man, expression muddled between frustration, anger, confusion --the confusion was the most acute of all, strange and foreign to his facial muscles. Almost always, Panzer had everything worked out, had every piece in place to flow like clock-work for him. "I told you that... I'd like a fucking chance to start over. I read a letter between Christoph and my father, thought about it..."
Dorian listened patiently, and when no further explanation seemed to be forthcoming he answered softly, "I... just realised that this had to be about... that. And if you're getting a second chance, I'd like one too."
Klaus nodded contemplatively. "All right. All right. Personal disputes aside, then. There's really no sense to them." Not anymore, there wasn't, and he certainly didn't disagree with Dorian's politics, though his methods...
Were just something he wasn't going to think about.
"No, there isn't. Especially not with a man's life on the line." Dorian nodded decorously in agreement, and gingerly stretched out his legs, making sure that they were no where close to touching Panzer. "And I appreciate that you would make the first overtures towards peace."
"I guessed I should, since I was in the wro -- Z, get your God-damned eyes back on the road!!"
"Y-yes Sir!!!" For the next half hour of the drive, Z would keep his eyes so tightly trained on the asphalt before the van that he didn't even once read the speedometer. Not that he needed to -- he could judge their speed to be somewhere between 'too fast' and 'awful bloody fast' -- and he daren't disobey Panzer. Not after the nasty shock he'd got of glancing back at the astounding scene in his rear-view mirror, and catching a glare of flat grey-green watching him in return.
"Excuse me...?" Fine, honey-gold brows drew softly together, more confused than angry for once, and Dorian leaned a little closer, as if there was something wrong with his hearing. "I could have sworn that you just said..."
"Said what?" Klaus asked, settling back into his place. His eyes went calmer as he settled back, appreciating that Z was listening to him well.
"Never mind." Dorian *was* fairly certain that he'd heard at least the beginnings of that word, and wasn't about to try to make Panzer say it again if he didn't want to. "You just... surprised me, is all. You're always surprising me, and I'm not accustomed to being surprised. It's rare, to find a man who can do that; I can generally read and predict them so well..."
"I'm sure you are -- 's your job, after all," Klaus complimented, leaning back. He looked so severe with his hair pulled back, and *felt* just as severe, because it was starting to give him a headache.
"It's a skill I employ to do my job," Dorian corrected, smiling faintly. "Some of my missions have been downright desperate, and I will and do use *any* method necessary to complete them."
"Shooting?" Klaus asked with a wry twist of his lips -- not insulting, no, but it was a tease he couldn't help but make.
And made in such good humour, Dorian couldn't help but be amused right along side him. "Does it surprise you that I can't? Perhaps if I *could* worth a damn, I would employ that method too. But I'm utterly hopeless at it. Better to not shoot at all than risk shooting something or someone I didn't want to."
"You could try aiming at the people you don't want to hit." That suggestion was a bit crueler, but... certainly Klaus' natural humour, biting, pointed. "How did you start into your job?"
In the spirit of the truce, Dorian could overlook a little amusement at his expense. "Oh... That's rather interesting, actually," he sighed, glancing around for something to be used as a pillow, so that his head wouldn't bounce so on the van's inner wall. "I was young, every bit as headstrong as I am now, and wanting desperately to get out of my father's house. I forget who it was suggested the military, but I figured that with so many many men, it couldn't be all that bad. And then one of my instructors discovered that I had a real knack for intelligence." Manipulation, information-gathering, working the system to his benefit...
"Seems the career for you," Klaus agreed. Soon... well, not soon enough but soon, the checkpoint would be hit. Another hour, he guessed, unless Z was driving well and faster than expected. "You'll probably move up the ranks quickly."
"Doubtful." A sour tone entered the liquid voice. Klaus had apparently hit a sore point. "Not that I really care about rank, but-" But these past two years he *hadn't* risen once, and had slowly grown tired of watching officers with far poorer service records pass him by.
"I don't really care," the Major muttered again. "I like my job, for the most part, and I'm *good* at it -- the best. My father, my fat Chief and all the rest can take their prejudices to hell with them."
"Was your father military, or just...?" Curiosity to satisfy, and that alone was the reason Klaus even asked.
"Just a lazy titled shit with political aspirations, which he blames me for ruining along with the family name."
"Hmn. Hard to argue that, though he's probably wrong. He probably ruined them himself," Klaus shrugged. "One can get away with a lot, after all, without ruining the family name."
"Your father was discreet," the blonde reminded, idly wondering how long this truce could last. It was *nice* to hold a sensible conversation with Klaus for a change, one which didn't involve shouting and threats, insults and innuendo. "I've never been anything of the sort. Probably subconsciously *wanted* to damage the family name. 's all I fucking hear about. That, and my refusal to settle down and get a squalling brat on some brainless bitch..."
"So don't." Not helpful, but what else could he suggest? "Eventually... if Father hadn't died, I'm sure he'd be doing the same to me right now. Perhaps all parents do it."
"No -- *he* would have understood." Dorian was certain of that. "From what Christoph told me..."
"After the day we broke in, remember, Christoph spent a lot of time with you avoiding me." More, Dorian had avoided him, and Christoph was just *with* Dorian. To the point that when Klaus left to return to the Schloss he wasn't noticed as 'gone' for five hours or so. "So there wasn't much chance for me to find those things out."
"He's a family friend to you, but after today -- if we recover him alive -- he won't want anything to do with me. I don't regret at all monopolising his time." Not when he was hopeful that they would rescue Christoph, and that Klaus would have ample time to pick the man's brain. They could leisurely discuss their mutual dislike of British fags over tea. "But if anything does go wrong, I promise to sit down and tell you all that I know."
As two sided as it was... Klaus nodded. "I would appreciate that." Because if Christoph died, so would a lot of things he'd never even *thought* to ask about... /Always late about things, aren't you Klaus...?" A sideways glance through the front window, and he startled. "Lay down! We're passing the checkpoint!"
Z had been just about to warn them, even though the checkpoint was a ways in the distance, and the line of vehicles stretched before it rather long. This task -- driving them through and answering questions at the checkpoint -- he was quite familiar with, as he'd done it many times before. Panzer had once said something about him having a sweet, guileless face, and ever since the job had been his.
Dorian lay down quickly, pillowing his head on a bent arm, but just as soon as golden lashes had swept his cheek they were lifted again, though not very much. "I'll need to navigate after this. And, won't we have trouble getting him back across? He'll have no identification..."
"The seat I'm on lifts," Klaus murmured. "Hollow. Now shhh." He could navigate all he wanted, after they passed through the checkpoint all right!
Getting out would be more difficult than getting in -- it would have to be! Dorian, eyes pressed closed and concentrating on smoothing out his breathing, let himself be lulled by Z's light, boyish voice as he flawlessly answered questions and handed over paperwork.
One boarder guard stuck his head into the back to the barren truck, compared the two IDs that Z had handed over for his companions, and nodded. "[Drive on through.]" They'd have to use a separate boarder road to return on, but half of the trouble was done with.
Klaus stayed still, though, until he was sure that they were far enough from the border station. "Dorian, get up in the front and navigate."
He did as told, slowly immersing his mind in the task at hand, but not before purring to the charming Z one last offer. "Are you *certain* that you don't want to give NATO a try? Panzer is right about your face, Darling. It just screams innocence, quite an asset for an agent."
"I'll be damned if you're going to slink off with one of my best men," Klaus growled, moving to lean against the seat that Dorian was climbing over.
The agent was beaming as he slapped the young driver on his shoulder. "Hear that? I tried. But, well, if Panzer really wants to keep you, there's not anything I can offer that he can't top, especially not on a NATO salary!"
"A's from NATO, in fact," Klaus murmured with a distinct glint in his eyes. "Pay's better on the 'wrong' side of the art world."
"A?" Dorian questioned. "Is he the one you smacked on the face, when you discovered he'd been friendly with Bonham? No wonder they got along so smashingly!" An answering glint, when Eroica turned briefly to smirk at Panzer over his shoulder, said that he wouldn't mind at all the challenge of trying to win A back to the side of righteousness. "Oh -- left here, Darling. We'll want the highway north."
"It'd be quite the challenge to get him back, you know," Klaus drawled, eyes as much on the road as Z's were. "You NATO sots used his wife as collateral in a mission... needless to say, the Soviets do some interesting things with electric current, all of them fatal." Which put his mind more solidly to the fact that they needed to get Christoph *quickly*.
"Surely you of all people understand the occasionally high costs of the extreme means employed by men such as ourselves. Though the loss makes me sad, it is nevertheless a risk that every agent has accepted, and part of the reason that I never hang on to a lover for any length of time."
"Wise -- and men such as ourselves also understands that we should put ourselves at risk before our men, hmn?"
"For a man with little regard for human life, you seem to hold a lot of concern for your men."
"It's my job to take care of them as much as it is to line the collective pocketbook," Klaus informed him easily. "Most of them have worked with me for years -- Z's the newest, and he's been working for me for... two years now, Z?"
"Two and a half," Z answered proudly. He had hope now, thanks to the remark about being one of Panzer's 'best' men, that he wasn't going to be abandoned after all! But relief made his confusion doubly worse, because he no longer had an explanation for the bizarre, frightening kiss!
*Why* would *Panzer*, of all people, kiss him?! It didn't make sense, unless Panzer was trying to woo him, or...
"Ah, well, time passes quickly," Klaus shrugged. "When we get there, Eroica, what are we going to do? Sneak in, kill them all, get the hell out?"
"Um..." The Briton sounded unsure. "Something like that. I was hoping we could proceed under the pretence that Christoph was like an artwork you were hoping to, er, acquire. What normally would the plan be?"
"Sneak in, knock them out or kill them, then sneak back out," Klaus shrugged. "Not so much difference."
"I suppose not." Such a bother to speak to someone hovering just over your shoulder, and the one time Dorian had turned, it was to find Panzer leaning unsettlingly close, intent on the road ahead. So, it was no more turning after that, even after he'd managed to settle the heat in his stomach such proximity caused. "Your skills will be much more useful here than mine. 's not like I can seduce them into giving up Christoph, and I can't talk us in there with my charming British accent..."
"He could be anywhere in there -- we need to go in unnoticed, find him, then just burst out," Klaus murmured. "Hopefully he isn't too badly injured..."
Dorian shook his head. "Not unnoticed. The... place they'll have taken him is small, no more than an old farm house. Isolated too, and there's a garbage pit out back where they burn the... ah... less fortunate guests' bodies. We'll need- Oh, left here, Darling," he nudged Z's arm. " -need to either ditch the truck and move in on foot, or use it as a distraction, provided that we can be sure it stays drive-able."
"Ditch the truck, move in on foot -- we need it unseen so we can pass over the border again," Klaus said thoughtfully. "So, we'll startle them. Shoot out a couple of windows, slip around to the back."
"Can Z shoot?" Because Dorian sure as hell couldn't, and he *was* going in the back, one way or another. He would simply prefer that it be under the uncannily exact cover-fire of Panzer.
"Ja. I trained you myself, didn't I, Z?" Klaus drawled pointedly. "He can shoot."
"Then, he creeps around front, finds cover, and starts to shoot out windows. We run in the back, you shoot everything up, I find Christoph, and we escape." To Eroica, that sounded like a well-formed plan.
"We'll see." Klaus had a feeling things wouldn't be so well oiled, but... ah, but, it was worth a try. "Essentially. Is the house over the crest? We should stop now if it is."
"A little further," Dorian guessed, not bothering to tell Panzer that he'd never seen the place, outside of detailed photographs snapped with a telephoto lens from a great distance. "The terrain isn't quite right yet. Younger trees, thick, where the forest has reclaimed old farm land."
"If you say so," Klaus shrugged, pulling his gun out of the discreet holster that he wore under his workman's clothes, checking over it quickly.
Dorian made a show of doing the same, unbuttoning his coveralls and withdrawing the same little silver gun he'd captured Klaus with on the night he'd broken into the castle on the Downs. But he was half-hearted in his check, and his hand refused to grip the distasteful thing too tightly. "Say, Klaus... I hope you're not expecting payment for helping me -- the rescue not being NATO condoned and all that..."
"Payment for the break-in, yes -- for this, no," Klaus assured as he re-buttoned his shirt, gun clutched with familiarity in his hand.
Pointing, Dorian directed Z off the road and into the trees, as ahead he could see the foliage getting thicker, and there would be no place to hide the truck. "Yes, well... I should have said 'helping Christoph' instead of 'helping me', though I still do feel as if I owe you something..."
"I don't like to break into the houses of friends," Klaus murmured, moving towards the back again as the van pulled to a stop. "And I did make your job there easier." He opened the doors from the inside, then jumped down to the ground, closing the van's doors behind him. Best to move *fast*.
Dorian though was of a more cautious bent, easing from the front of the van at the same time Z leaped, not even bothering to close the door behind him. Why, when he would only have to open it to get in, probably under a rain of bullets? "Easier, but not possible," he picked up the conversation again in a whisper as he followed Panzer's furtive crouch-run into the trees. "Though I do thank you for that, too."
"Hmph." That was a smug almost laugh, hard to catch at the man paused for a brief moment, looking through the trees, before starting off again at that same stunning run as before -- oh the *muscles* he had to have to do such a thing!
/Absolutely NO thinking about muscles!/ Dorian chastised himself. Because invariably thoughts along those lines led to worse, and Panzer's lovely, firm ass was prominent with him crouched over, gliding through the trees.
Sneaking seemed to be one more thing Panzer did well, aside from breaking in through windows!
The house came quickly into view as they ran, hidden well by a dip in the land, still buried in the thick tree-growth. Old, ramshackle... Klaus wasn't sure there'd be windows to shoot out!
Z was creative though, and would surely discover *something* to shoot, even if it was simply the house's plank walls and sagging tin roof. All they had to do was wait for him to take position with his rifle.
Dorian crept up to press against Klaus in the little hollow, and stole a pleasant moment to notice that immersed as he was in the task at hand, Panzer didn't seem aware enough of the closeness to protest it. /Interesting.../ But then Eroica too had to press all thoughts save the mission from his mind.
"We need to get closer to the house," Klaus hissed softly, starting to his feet in a smooth motion, not even minding that Dorian *had* been so close.
The blonde followed, wary and crouched low. "Lead on then. You've more experience than I in sneaking. Get yourself into position, and don't worry about me following. I can keep up."
Leading on seemed to have been the idea Klaus had to start with -- because he didn't even wait for Dorian to finish talking, just started off in that crouched dash under the line of sight from the sparse windows, towards the back door.
In Dorian's opinion, there was close, and then there was too bloody close for comfort, and it was somewhere there that Panzer finally stopped, and Eroica stopped too. Huddled against the German's side, he had his little snub-nosed gun gripped in both hands and pointed safely at the ground. /Wonderful. Just bloody fantastic. If they don't hear us *breathing*, Z is going to put holes into us when he shoots *through* the bloody house!/
It was then that the shots started. One, two, three, four...
Four, in quick succession, was for the number of people Z had counted through his scope shifting inside the house. Five originally, but his initial shot dropped the first, neatly in the head, and he thought that he had nicked a second. After that he was more conservative with his pulls on the trigger, sighting each carefully, to little effect now that his prey were under cover.
And Klaus stood up! Like a damn fool, Eroica had to think, Klaus stood up, then kicked in the back door!
While standing smack in front of it, too! Dorian was half expecting Panzer to be knocked away from the door just as quickly, bullets pounding into his body.
But he wasn't! Instead he sharply gestured for Dorian to go in front of him, while he fired into the room beyond that door, killing two more.
There wasn't much room between the narrow door frame and the wide-stanced, firing German, but Dorian managed to wriggle through. Thankfully he still hadn't had to shoot anyone, and didn't relish the chance to discover whether or not his aim could be trusted at near point-blank range.
Klaus moved into the room a bit further. "Secure -- next door." And so, it seemed they'd go in -- there couldn't be more than four rooms in the small house, so Klaus wasn't terribly surprised when the next door he swung open revealed Christoph...
And three other men, one of whom had a knife to the old man's throat.
/Fuck./ Even small blessings -- namely that Christoph was still alive -- Dorian couldn't be thankful for in this situation. There was a fairly good chance that he wouldn't remain that way for long, as with a barked demand in Russian for the thief and NATO man to lower their weapons, the knife was pressed forward enough to draw a dribble of blood at its very sharp tip.
Klaus lowered his carefully, finger sliding off of the trigger. "[Rus not so good speak -- Deutsche?]"
"[Don't fuck around!]" another of the men yelled, as the third, the youngest, shifted his grip on the pistol he was waving between Dorian and Klaus. "[You can fucking understand me well enough to know that I want the guns on the fucking floor NOW!]"
It was Dorian's voice which answered, that same appallingly even tone he'd infuriated Panzer with the night he'd been caught stealing the Man in Red. "[So that you can shoot us both and kill the traitor too...? I think not.]"
"[We want the old man -- give him... over, and we leave. Backup is at the front door.]" And then he lifted his head a bit to call in German, "[A! Y! Z! Fire when I give the command!]"
The youngster with the gun was torn, wavering swiftly now between his two targets, and Dorian was rather pleased to catch the muscles of his throat straining to swallow. /Good, good... If I can catch his eye, it would give Klaus time to fire./
"[Guns! Floor! Now!]" screamed the in-command man, as a jerk of his head caused a reactionary jerk of Christoph's as the knife wielding Stasi drew his cut from a point to a line of red.
If Klaus fired at the antsy one, Christoph's throat would be slit out of sheer shock reaction from the knife wielder...
Klaus nodded, narrowed grey-green flashing anger as he crouched to reverently lay his gun down on the floor -- and moments before the action would have been complete, swung his gun up, and fired through the forehead of the Stasi who held the knife.
The stubborn idiot *would* move before Dorian could courageously draw the young German's fire, and got shot for his trouble. At least, there was the explosion of a discharge, the accompanying flash, and Panzer reeled drunkenly. Another shot, perhaps meant for him, and Dorian wasn't sure if it had hit or not... /No fucking time to find out!/ And no second chance.
So, not trusting his aim, Dorian made a lightning overhand motion, as if to *throw* his gun at the Stasi.
And flung a knife out that took the man's eye out, and would probably claim his life in short enough time. Leaving the head Stasi of the three, at least until Klaus fired three shots right into the man's gut. He staggered to his feet, too, moving towards the chair. "[Ch... *shit*, shit shit, you hurt?]"
More pressing was, "[Are there any more?!]" Demanded by Dorian as he pressed his way quickly passed the hunched Panzer. The answer to the other question was, after all, blaringly obvious. Not only Christoph's throat, but his arms, through torn sleeves, wore ribbons of red, and he was hanging forward exhaustedly in the ropes around his chest, now that the knife wasn't holding him upright.
Two more shots rang out then, breaking the silence -- the Z's voice calling, "[All clear!]"
"[Good -- now get the God-damned van down here *NOW*,]" Klaus roared, trying to stand firmly again but with little success yet.
Christoph, though, had the pain of broken limbs to contend with in accompaniment of the *shock* of what he'd just witnessed. It didn't seem anything else was broken, though... "[No, just get me out of here, David...]"
"[A minute Darling,]" Dorian promised, hating to have to prioritise. /Klaus first. Klaus is shot, could be bleeding to death right now./ Taking the tall German firmly by the shoulders, the blonde managed to wrestle him around. "[How badly?!]"
"[Not... *shit*, not so bad,]" Klaus hissed, starting to try to stand again -- though the tearing and sheer wetness of the dark cloth over his right pectoral seemed to say opposite. "[Need to go... get... get Christoph, dammit!]"
"[You need to fucking get off your feet,]" Eroica snarled at him, the words composed of frustration-laced fear. "[Christoph isn't going anywhere, at least until Z gets down here with the van. You're going to let me look at your injury!]" Stupid, pig-headed man!
"[God dahhh.... gg. Dammit, 've been shot beh... before,]" he snapped back as best he could, even as Eroica made him lay down in the gritty wooden floor of the farmhouse. "[Eroica, hear... 's the van...]"
"[Shut up, idiot,]" Eroica growled, roughly tugging the thief's shirt open to reveal the round, blooded point of the bullet's impact. High enough that it might, just *might* have missed his lung. He tugged a little more, getting a hand behind the man to search with trembling fingers for an exit wound. "[I've been shot too, so don't think I'll believe this is something minor. Just because you're called 'tank' doesn't mean you have the thick hide of one. You should have been more careful!]"
He didn't bother to mention to Klaus that he'd been about to do the same, foolish thing, and was frustrated partly because the German had beaten him to it.
He could feel that, too, a larger circle of jagged flesh, covered with cloth, and Klaus gave an angry hiss when Dorian felt over it. "['s minor, stop touching it!!]"
"[Sir?]" Z's voice from the back entrance to the room, blonde head peaking in. "[Oh, you've been shot!!]"
"[Fuck, yes, I *know*!! 's just get *out* of this hellhole first!!]"
"[Z,]" Dorian requested politely, "[If you could see to Christoph, I'll get your foul-mouthed leader loaded into the van. Don't believe him when he swears that it's nothing, but I'm fairly certain at least that he won't be bleeding to death anytime soon.]" And before Klaus could attempt it on his own, Dorian yanked on his good arm, got it around his shoulders and dragged Klaus to his feet.
And they left the farmhouse that way, Klaus cursing every last step of the way.
Z was more careful, but just was quick -- making polite conversation as he cut Christoph loose. "[So you're the mission, hmn? Can you stand, sir?]"
"[Mission...?]" Pain-clouded eyes hid a desperate confusion, as Christoph very gratefully was freed from his restraints by Z's knife. "[I don't understand... Why is David here, with Klaus? And why did Klaus call him 'Eroica'?]" He could stand, he was fairly certain, though he didn't try immediately. After all, his legs were still whole. It was his hands the Stasi had started on first, breaking the small bones one at a time until both were swollen, crippled knots of pain.
"[He's NATO,]" Z murmured after a moment as he carefully slid and arm behind Christoph, the old man's arm over his shoulder while he tried to avoid touching the *mess* that were the man's hands. Had he just said *Klaus*...? /Uh-oh.../ Where work crossed real-life lines... "[You know the, uhm... boss? Tank?]"
Z's answer was a barked noise, more pain than laughter. "[Know him? Fought in the war... with his father. Practically *raised* him. Don't... know about this 'Tank' thing...]" And David -- Eroica -- was NATO?! /Should have fucking *known* I was... being used./ He should have known that anyone so blessedly fresh and kind, perfect, couldn't be real.
"[They'll explain... when we're on the right side of the border,]" Z promised softly, starting to quickly guide Christoph out the back door, where Dorian had already dragged Klaus.
"[I don't- AHH! Th-think that they can,]" the elder man winced, as he and Z hurried to the van. It was difficult enough moving while keeping his damaged hands held stiffly in front of him, and even worse when Z handed him up into the back, with Dorian's help. Klaus had already been pressed to the floor with a wad of cloth to hold over his chest.
"[Dammit.... Z, do you have the ids ready? Use a different checkpoint!!]" Klaus watched from the floor, half-heartedly, he'd have to admit, as Dorian then proceeded to lift the seat to *hide* Christoph away in it. "['s tehnn... shit, shit, minute, drive.]"
"[Drive, Z,]" Dorian ordered. "[I'll get the doors. Just get us out of here.]" It must have been a little amusing to the NATO man to have his order obeyed so quickly, because he was smiling tightly as he turned back to the van's other passengers. "[And you two...]"
"[Get.... something to hide from the g.... guards that 'm bleeding,]" Klaus growled roughly, rolling to lay on his back, flat, as if it would help any.
"[A blanket...?]" Dorian cast his eyes around, looking for one, and darted out a hand to steady Christoph as the van lurched into motion. "[And you're going to let me put pressure on that, for as long as I can, until we have to feign sleep again.]"
"Yes, yes, do it," Klaus shuddered, switching to English again as the jarring of the van seared the pain anew -- anything to not hear the British man's tones butcher a good tongue any longer!! "'s soon, though.... get Christoph... in the seat."
"[In...?]" Silent to this point, the man perched on the edge of the seat was glaring between Klaus and Dorian with open suspicion in his watery, pain-hazed eyes. "[I want to know what is going on. I don't want to get into any seat, and I refuse to speak that horrible language.]"
"[I just 't shot trying to save your ass 'cause you're fucking a **Soviet**!]" Klaus snapped, closing his eyes tightly for a moment before looking at Christoph with as much attention as he could garner.
"[It is better than siding with the filthy Americans!]" Christoph growled, before falling silent in confusion. It was hard, so hard to pull his thoughts together! Was this something he wanted to tell Klaus? H couldn't seem to recall... "[Ruin the country,]" he finally muttered, sullenly, ashamedly fixing his gaze on his toes.
"[Ruin the country...? Ruin the fu... fucking country? Have you... have you BEEN in eastern Germany before now? Have you...]" Pain made it harder to argue, and his sharply barking voice was so much softer because of the pain. "[Have you been to east Berlin? The *soviets* have ruined half our fucking country -- it's gotten better on the half where the damn Americans are! Fuck them -- they're not *here*, they're not in out nation any longer!!]"
"Klaus..." Dorian tried to steal the irate German's attention away, by taking the drenched bit of cloth from Klaus' hand and applying another, cleaner wad he'd torn from his undershirt. "It's no good arguing right now, either one of you. You're both half out of your minds."
"[God-dammit, I dealt with you being a queer, I'm fine with it, but I won't let you be a god-damned soviet!]" Klaus railed, though he trailed off towards the end.
"[Tank, sir, Eroica, we're coming up towards the check-point,]" Z warned them both.
"Christ..." Eroica wanted to just knock their heads together and get it over with! "You, hold this," he snapped at Klaus, putting his hand again over the cloth. "[You, in the seat.]" When Christoph looked like he was going to balk again, Dorian pulled him off with a growl, flipped the seat back, and proceeded to stuff the complaining man inside. "[Get in there and stay quiet, if you want to ever get home again. And give me that blanket!]"
With broken hands Christoph couldn't hand it, so Dorian had to simply snatch it, then closed the seat over top of the older man. Klaus, holding the cloth over his wound, started trying to get to his feet so he could stretch out on the seat and make it less suspicious. "Quicker..."
"Here." The ratty blanket was unfurled and tossed over Klaus, tucked up with unnecessary care beneath his chin. "If you can't help wincing, pretend you're having a nightmare. And- Hold still..." Blood, a smear across his jaw, that Dorian rubbed away with a spit-dampened thumb.
He didn't get snapped at, but a grateful murmurance, and Klaus closed his eyes tightly -- then kept making those slight lip movements, flicking his eyes back and forth behind those closed eyelids -- pretending to be sleeping, in fact, helped him distract himself from pain.
Last to take position was Dorian, snuggling his head on his bent arm again, and throwing himself fully into the pretence of sleep. Something he was very practised at, and did well. So well that the guardsman who tossed open the back door and looked over the van's occupants didn't seem to warrant either he or Klaus a second glance.
Z, on the other hand, was not so lucky. The man who leaned casually in the van's window and demanded identification had sharp muddy green eyes and lips that had all the fullness of a pencil line.
"[Why are you leaving the country? The work passes of these two can warrant it, but you...]"
"[E-excuse me?]" Z was polite, nearly so much as had he been speaking to Panzer. But unfortunately low-level bureaucrats such as border guards are suspicious of politeness, thinking it masks insult.
"[Why are you leaving the country? Step out of the vehicle,]" the guard decided, on a whim, stepping back so Z could open his door and step out.
There was nothing could be done but obey the whim. A terribly anxious Z slipped from the van, protesting softly as he did so, "[I am the driver. If I do not drive, the others will not get to their jobs, and my boss will be terribly angry with me. I do not wish to lose my job!]"
"[You're the new driver? You're not familiar, is this 'route' new?]"
"[Oh, no Sir!]" The marvellous thing was that Z truly did look -- and in fact was -- anxious, fearful more of what Klaus would do to him if they were caught than anything the East German government might devise. "[I mean, yes. I mean... I am new, but I'm not supposed to be here! They gave me a map, but I have gotten lost. I followed signs... Already I am late -- my boss will be furious!]"
"[All right. Get back in the damn car, but don't get lost next time!]"
"[Yes Sir! I'm sorry, Sir!]" Z made an attempt to grab and shake the man's hand, griping it with both of his until he was shoved away.
Which gave him all the better chance to scamper into the van and roar away.
Klaus wasn't aware that he'd stopped breathing until he sucked in the first aching lung-full after too long without.
It was just after he exhaled to gulp in another that Eroica could be heard, very softly, making a sound which was suspiciously like laughter.
"Wha.... what the fuck's wrong wit' you?" Klaus asked, trying to move off of the seat so that Christoph could be brought out again.
"Are you certain you won't give up the boy? What an agent I could make out of him!" As attractive as James, and certainly less annoying, but with the same innocent, disarming qualities.
"Absolutely not!" Klaus snarled, sliding down from the seat to lay on the floor again, on his back. "Get... Christoph out!"
"I am, I am! Calm down, Darling."
Christoph had nearly passed out somewhere along the way, and Dorian had to gently shake him to awareness. "C'mon. Let's get you out of here, okay? And to the nearest hospital please, Z. I'll arrange everything with NATO, once I can get to a telephone."
"[D-David...?]" Christoph had apparently forgotten some of what had happened.
"[Mil'tary hospit'l care, great,]" Klaus drawl sarcastic even through the pain.
"[David... what's going on?]" Christoph demanded as he was helped to his feet, and the seat was put down again, so he could sit.
"[We're taking you and Klaus to a hospital,]" Dorian explained patiently, even as he pressed Klaus flat to the floor with a hand on his chest. Without asking he pulled the blanket off and quickly set about pressing *that* over the wound.
"[Who are you, though? You're not... David.]" Pained and tiredness blurred, Christoph looked as if he were going to just pass out again.
"[I am not.]" Dorian looked up from the bloody task long enough to favour the older man with one of his brilliant smiles. "[Be patient with me, love, and all will be explained. But right now I'm a little busy tending to Klaus.]"
"[Tank. I don't understand any of it... you're NATO? Is Klaus, too?]"
"[He isn't -- simply a very notorious thief.]" Dorian's next smile was for Panzer, every bit as brilliant as the one he'd given Christoph. With the rescue completed and none of their own dead, he felt he had every right to smile. "[A very talented thief, who join NATO if he wished. With his skills, they would welcome him with open arms. So, what do you think, Panzer? We do make a rather brilliant team...]"
"['ll go legit when hell freezes over,]" Klaus promised, "[Or if you 'ver read Dante, when hell *warms* over!]"
"[You're already 'legit',]" Dorian laughed softly, unaware that as he held the makeshift bandage to the German's chest that his thumb was brushing the inflamed skin, a soft caress. "[Unless one job isn't enough to count.]"
"[It'll count once I've been paid... stop rubbing me, damn you!! Just let me bleed, you don't need to pet me...]"
Christoph's eyes narrowed as he sullenly watched the pair, Major and thief. "[You really did kiss him,]" was his sudden accusation, followed by an angry, "[And you used me. I hate you, David. Or whatever your name really is...]"
Dorian did stop that small touch, jumping a little at Klaus' growl. The back of the van was suddenly an uncomfortable place to be, shared as it was with two angry German men. "[I could just go and sit with Z, you know,]" he sighed unhappily. "[At least he won't be ungrateful that I've just saved his life, or get mad at me for trying to keep more blood on the inside of his body than without!]"
"[Shit, sorry, just hurts,]" Klaus snapped out, eyes closed tightly still. "['ve got a hole in my chest and you've got a... *dammit*, dammit...]" He shifted a little, to hit his head against the floor -- it was funny how new pain made the lingering pain seem to fade. "['ll explain later, Christoph. 's a long st'ry...]"
Christoph's expression softened considerably to see Klaus in such pain. He edged closer, clearly wanting to be of some help but unable to do anything but hover annoyingly overhead. "[Oh God... It isn't that I'm ungrateful. Not at all! I just- j-just...]"
"[Hush Darlings -- both of you,]" soothed Dorian, as he wriggled his hand beneath Klaus' head to prevent it hitting the floor again when the van hit more ruts. "[Everyone will be exchanging explanations, but later. I want quiet until we get to the hospital. It can't be much farther.]"
"Which hospital, sir?" Z asked tentatively from the front. "The first one we come to, or....?"
The more Christoph listened to the boy's voice... the more strikingly he recognised him as Klaus' butler!!
That was the problem with Klaus' men -- no initiative. Dorian supposed that living in fear of fouling up Panzer's wishes *would* be crippling in that regard, so he was a little more kind than he would have been to one of his own agents as he uttered sharply, "Yes, the bloody first one! Let's skip the leisurely tour of the countryside until we aren't transporting two badly injured men!"
"Yes, sir!" Z took a sharp *turn*, then, and slammed on the gas pedal -- as if permission were granted to drive like a flaming idiot and to speed all the way towards what looked to be a military compound -- oh, and familiar for Dorian!!
"That's brilliant Z, really. But how are we supposed to get in?" Dorian questioned, as he recognised a the small base as a NATO holding. "I'm not exactly wearing my identification."
"They won't recognise you?" Z asked hopefully, ready to change direction again if told to do so.
The Briton sighed, a heavily frustrated sound. "Z Darling, I haven't *really* slept my way through the ranks, as your leader seems to think I have. Further, I've never been stationed in Germany, so there's *no* reason for a couple of low-ranking gate-watchers to recognise me!"
"Oh." Z turned the barrelling vehicle then, away from heading towards the base. "There's a civilian one not ten minutes away..."
"[Thank fucking god, you're *not*... Dammit, not going to have me arrested!]"
"Idiot! I didn't say that I couldn't get us in! Turn the van around!" On second thought, perhaps Z would need a *bit* more seasoning than Dorian had thought, before he would make either a competent thief or agent.
"But..." Z trailed off, almost whimpering as he turned around *again*, and this time didn't veer.
"[Oh, hell, hell, dammit,]" Klaus swore, almost a continuous stream of curse words now.
Christoph was relieved not to be flung across the seat by this newest change in direction, but he hung doggedly to the armrest with an elbow anyway, and frowned at the two men on the floor. "[Klaus Heinz! Such foul language... If you're a thief, maybe you deserve to be arrested. Maybe we both deserve what's coming to us...]"
"Shut up Klaus," Dorian asked, with little hope of it actually happening. "If you don't, I only have two hands, so I'll have to be creative in finding a way to stop your mouth. Shut up unless you want to be kissed again. 's not like you've anything to complain about, anyway. You won't be arrested."
"[But the ICPO... damn my fucking luck, dammit, this fucking *hurts*...]"
"[You complain more than a pregnant woman with a backache,]" Christoph observed wryly.
Dorian glanced to his ex-lover, trying very hard not to smile. "Shh... both of you. I'm not about to turn over to the wankers at Interpol a man who's helped me twice now; who is for all intents and purposes on NATO's payroll. Better a military hospital, where I can have some influence."
"[Fine,]" Klaus rumbled tensely, taking a tight hiss of breath when the next bump was hit, and the van peeled to a stop just in front of the guardhouse.
A few suspicious guards were already approaching the van, guns at half-ready, when Dorian climbed to the front again and *over* a protesting Z to get out. "[Major Dorian Red Gloria, NATO Intelligence out of London. Identification number 55532011-6135,]" he barked, snapping a salute with a hand that was bloody. "[Get on the ringer and call my office *now*. I have wounded men and need use of the base medical facilities.]"
"[Stop the van here, we'll carry them in, then confirm that you're right,]" the highest ranking man there ordered his men and Z.
A nod of the blonde head, and Dorian pulled Z around to the back doors with the request of, "[Come, help me get them out.]" But once the opened doors afforded a bit of privacy he leaned close, nearly brushing the boy's ear with his lips as he added, "[You might want to quietly leave when you get the chance. I can't keep an eye on you and Panzer both, and I don't want anyone in any trouble that can be avoided.]"
"[As soon as possible,]" Z promised as he smiled at Christoph, and moved to help the old man. Leaving Eroica to deal with Klaus again.
A hand gently placed to Panzer's cheek brought pain-clenched eyes wide, and Dorian asked softly, "Think you can stand? Otherwise I'll get help carrying you."
"I c'n stand," was the almost pathetic answer, as he started to sit up, though slowly. He *Wanted* to stand, just as if to prove that he was okay.
An arm around Klaus' shoulders coaxed him farther, as Dorian tried to ignore the soft whimper of pain that left the man's clenched teeth.
"Help me stand," Klaus finally asked, as he got to his knees.
"Like this...?" Klaus' good arm around his neck, Dorian began to take his feet, pulling the thief with him.
A soft grunt left the thief, but he nodded hazily, standing like that, and moving on unsteady legs out the back of the van, all under the major's guidance.
"That's good, Klaus. Easy, now..." More encouragement, a near-steady stream of it now from the Major, as he watched Klaus' face closely for signs that he was pushing too hard.
Not a thing crossed that handsome face, as they passed through the front gate, other than flickers of pain. He was managing, though, well it seemed until his knees gave.
Almost expecting it of the stubborn, prideful Panzer, Dorian managed to catch him around the waist and lower him to the ground. "[I need some help with him!]" he called back to the guard post. "[Bring a cart or something!]"
"[If that's a bullet shot, there isn't time,]" One of the guards said, moving forwards. "[Just carry him quickly!]"
"[Where?]" With the help of two guards, Klaus was picked up and rushed, military-style, toward a low building one of them pointed out. There was little to do but stay close, and trust Z and Christoph to follow.
And then trust Z to make himself *scarce* and quick -- to take the van and leave!
That was almost too much trusting for Eroica to have to do.
~~~~~
"Give me that!"
A frustrated Eroica snatched the cigarette from between Panzer's lips, and scowled at the thing in consternation. "Honestly -- I don't know *how* you keep smuggling these in here, but you know you're not supposed to be smoking!" Though that hardly prevented the Major from taking a large puff as he wandered away to resume pacing.
"Then why the hell are you smoking?" Klaus snapped unhappily. "If I'm not supposed to smoke, you're damn well not going to do it around me!!"
"It's going into my lungs, not yours," Dorian replied sweetly as he blew a languid ring of smoke.
"God dammit. When the fuck am I going to be released?" Klaus sighed, staring forlornly at the cigarette.
"[You're not going home yet?]" was the subdued question from the door, as Christoph somehow managed the oversized handle by using more his wrists than his bandaged hands that looked like giant white mittens. "[I thought you would be released before me.]"
"[It's just to torture me,]" Klaus murmured as he looked up -- and managed a slight smile for Christoph. "[Sit down?]"
Christoph almost balked, with a glance that looked plainly uncomfortable as it wavered between Eroica and Panzer -- names he was having a difficult time associating with the men. But he was being discharged, and it was his last chance to get answers, if he could make himself stop shunning their company long enough. "[I- Thank you.]" He took the bedside chair, uncomfortably fidgeting as he tried to arrange his hands in his lap.
"[Oh, damn. You've discovered my plan,]" Eroica drawled at Panzer, as he took another draw on the rich, unfiltered cigarette. "[I decided it best to try to convince you to work with me in the future by cooping you up in a small room and confiscating your cigarettes. Figured that would put you into a fine, agreeable mood.]"
"[It's failing,]" Klaus all but growled, making a sad attempt, half dive, to snatch it from Eroica. "[Are you better now, Christoph?]"
"[Does this look better?]" the elder man questioned wryly, motioning with a hand. "[I can't even dress myself, let alone eat a meal without wearing half of it!!]" Oh, and *how* he was missing 'David'! He would have helped him to dress in the mornings, and would have fed him little pieces of food with his fingers.
But 'David' was sitting there, so *different* and so much more confident than the boy who'd been with him had ever been. Just as Klaus seemed so much *sharper* -- and without argument cruder! -- as 'Panzer'.
"[Ah, but you can smoke. And you need to stop taking my damn smokes, Dorian!]"
Oh, it probably wasn't a wise thing to do, and Eroica understandably sidled just far enough out of reach before doing it. But, against wisdom and sense he smirked, and challenged, "[Make me.]"
There was a moment of silence that hung heavy in the room -- hung, at least, until Klaus shrugged and reached a hand up into his pillow case to pull free another cigarette, which he lit off a match that was tucked up under the bedside stand. "[Take this one and I'll clock you.]"
/So, that's your move.../ Dorian paced another few steps before halting at the foot of the bed, and leaned over the foot-board in a casually threatening manner. "[Put it out, Darling, or I'll tattle to Nurse Brot.]" He would do it, too. Several days of suffering Eroica's company while recuperating had taught Panzer a lot about the man's personality. Fluffy and frivolous, formidable when he finally got serious.
Klaus took two long, deep breaths of the soothing smoke, and then carefully snubbed the tip. "All right," he exhaled in a wicked smoky smile, equally challenging as he folded his arms over his chest. "[I suppose, Christoph, you want an explanation...?]"
"[It had better be a damned good one,]" the older man sighed, his mouth a tight, unhappy line. "[I don't like being lied to, being used, or having things hidden from me.]"
"[I don't think, Christoph, that you've got much ground to stand on in that matter -- For all that you were hiding from me that you were queer, let alone a soviet sympathiser,]" Klaus drawled, lips thinning a little. "['David' is really Major Dorian Red Gloria of NATO, intelligence.]"
"[It can't be considered 'hiding' when I was honest about it, open for the entire world to notice save you!]" One thing Christoph would not stand for was a lecture from the boy he'd practically helped to raise. "[But I see that you've managed to deal with the revelation just fine -- just as I said you would. Well enough to decide that you're the same way, and that it's perfectly all right to flirt with Dav- *Dorian* right in front of me!]" A foolish, hurtful thing to say, though he felt marginally less jealous for having said it.
"[Flirt?]" Klaus looked over to Dorian, then back to Christoph, looking for all the world like he'd been shot again. "[I'm not...!!]"
"[And you're no better!]" Christoph growled at Dorian, completely ignoring the other man's weak protest. "[Damn it -- I cared for you! I w-was planning on you being with me, for a long time...]"
There was no other answer for Dorian to give but a regretful, "[I know. I'm sorry.]"
"[If it's any consolation, Christoph, I knew him before this,]" Klaus sighed, closing his yes for the moment before he contemplated re-lighting his snubbed out cigarette.
"[It isn't a fucking consolation!]" the man snapped. "[Nothing can be, when something too perfect to be true turns out not to be, and is taken from you. And now I have to fucking be alone again!]"
Klaus looked stunned, but only shrugged in the end, a tense thing. "[There isn't anything I can do.]"
"[Christoph...]" Unbelievably, as he approached near Dorian looked decidedly hurt by the unkind words. "[Please -- I didn't mean for it to turn out like this. Not at all.]"
"[No -- you weren't supposed to be kidnapped by your Stasi friends, and David was simply supposed to leave,]" Klaus murmured. "[After all, the break into your safe went perfectly.]"
Christoph's jaw fell open in horror, before snapping shut, *hard*. "[So... I'd blamed that on David, but I suppose it would have been you. No one else would have been interested in a useless packet of old letters. Or was I not supposed to notice that someone had read them, returned them to the safe in the wrong order?]"
Klaus looked stunned, for the second time in too short a period, and slammed his head back against the headboard. "['m a fucking idiot...]"
"[A damned snoop and thief, too!]" Christoph exploded. "[Those were private!!]"
"[It was father's hand-writing, I was curious... and of course I'm a thief!]" That last part was almost laughed through the spike of pain he got from hitting his head.
"[Couldn't trust my lover... Couldn't even trust my the man I've known since before he could walk.]" For a moment Christoph's frustrated, angered shell slipped, and tears threatened until they were roughly rubbed from faded blue eyes. "[Couldn't trust your father, either. Am I the only one who never sees how alone I am?]"
"[Christoph...]" Klaus frowned at the pacing agent, then looked back to Christoph, then down. "[This is something I was pulled into without any warning. I wasn't... I didn't want to see you hurt -- but there were lives on the line for what you were giving the Stasi.]"
Silence from the older man, while he studied his mitten hands in his lap and battled more tears. "[Do you think I don't realise that now? I thought I was doing right. You know I wouldn't intentionally harm anyone! I had no idea, the s-sort of people-]"
"[Christoph...]" It simply wasn't right that a person Dorian cared for had been hurt, mostly by Dorian himself, and that Dorian couldn't even get close enough to try to ease it a little. Because when he tried...
"[Don't touch me! Don't you *dare* ever look at me like that again!!]"
"[Calm down and listen for a second, Christoph,]" Klaus asked -- funny, how when he was trying to be the voice off reason that it seemed to strike so much harder. "[There was a reason behind what he did, even if it was a horrible way to do it.]"
"[ 's no good, Klaus,]" the Major mumbled sadly, as he withdrew his outreached hand. "[He's right. I haven't the right to care, after such a betrayal. It was necessary, and I don't regret what I did. But I do regret letting some truth slip into the pretence. It was a mistake, one as an agent I can't afford to make again.]"
"[Truth?]" Now it was Klaus' turn to look in credulous, asking pointedly, "[Where?]"
"[You're lying,]" Christoph spat, failing to muster any real malice.
Dorian accepted the accusation demurely. "[As you say.]"
"[I don't think this argument is getting either of you anywhere,]" Klaus said helpfully.
It was, oddly, that final well-intended remark which drove Christoph to leap up and stalk from the room, slamming the door firmly behind him.
And, even more oddly, Dorian every bit as upset as the older man had been, as he slowly lowered himself into the vacated bedside chair. "[Of course you wouldn't understand,]" he quietly uttered, as, even in his smart wool Major's uniform, he somehow managed to pull his amply long legs into the chair with him, tucking his knees beneath his chin. "[Those arguments never 'go' anywhere. There is nowhere for parted lovers *to* go. Back is impossible; forward means separate ways.]"
"[I wouldn't know,]" Klaus murmured quietly. He decided then, too, to start smoking another cigarette, calm nerves rattled by what he'd just watched. Other times he would have been amused to see a man with broken hands slamming a door, now... Now he felt disgusted at himself for being worried, when Christoph... would... might.... possibly... be perfectly fine. "[I'll make sure he's all right when I get back home.]"
"[Thank you,]" Dorian was mildly surprised to hear himself say, when he ought to be pointing out the uselessness of such a gesture, when Klaus clearly couldn't tell 'all right' from 'very badly hurt' as far as soured relationships went. "[It- Oh, this is going to sound stupid,]" he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Maybe. Hasn't stopped you before," Klaus sighed, switching back to English as if that would prod Dorian into being more forthcoming. He lit up another smuggled cigarette, too, murmuring around a breath of smoke, "So say it."
Dorian really wished Panzer would choose a language and stick with it! All this switching was making him dizzy, rather like bedding a partner who wouldn't hold one position long enough to complete the act. "Always before I've been laughed at, when I've said things like this. So, don't bother laughing too hard, Darling, because I know it's coming and that ruins the effect. But I- I really do care for Christoph. I haven't enjoyed anyone's company so much in quite a long time. I wish that it could be me watching over him, but I'm glad someone will be."
He didn't get laughter -- he got Klaus looking oddly thoughtful, then nodded. "All right. I'll tell him as much, when you damned people let me out of here."
"Broken record," Dorian reminded, the jest returning a tenuous smile to his lips. "Do I have to remind you again what the doctors said? You were luck to be alive at all when we brought you in, much less cussing and trying to walk! Very lucky..." And very strong!
"'m built like tank," Klaus said in a smoky breath. "It doesn't matter to me. I feel fine now -- I'm fine and Christoph's alive."
/You're recovering, and Christoph's hurt,/ Dorian wanted to argue, but didn't. Instead he reminded, "You'll have another scar." Another, because the times he'd seen the German man's chest bared he'd counted no fewer than a half-dozen notable ones. "The pity is that you won't think of me when you see it in the mirror, as I think of you when I see the one on my ankle."
"I think of you when I see my empty holster -- I think that's enough," Klaus drawled, relaxing fairly visibly as he continued smoking. "You didn't shoot me. I think it's better for you that I don't have a *wound* to 'remember you by.' I've killed every last person who's hurt me."
"I would be the first," Dorian was positive, "Because I would never purposefully hurt you. So even if through some circumstance I did, you would know my good intentions, and not try to kill me in retribution." He added with a slight smirk, "It would probably help that I would be very, sincerely sorry."
"Sorry... sometimes doesn't work enough," the thief pointed out with a nod of his head to the door, and a slowly in-drawn breath of smoke.
Dorian's face twisted into a scowl, in no small part caused by embarrassment. "Sorry would have been plenty, if I'd gotten to handle things the way I'd wanted to. But thank you so very much for driving home *again* how I've hurt poor Christoph."
"I've known him for longer and he probably things I'm completely immoral and just a horrible human being," Klaus shrugged. "He'll get over both."
If he'd been trying to cheer the Briton any, it didn't work. "You *are* completely immoral and horrible, Darling," Dorian pointed out dryly. "And it does my heart so much good to think that I've sunk to your level."
"Considering your line of work, you shouldn't be offended. You're no different from me, really, only you draw a government paycheck," Klaus smiled wickedly.
"Oh...?" The blonde questioned, lifting his chin in marginal interest. "So, what Christoph said, about you deciding that you're like him... That's true? I didn't realise we had so *much* in common."
"I..." Klaus tapped a bit of ash off the tip of his cigarette, into the bedpan he completely refused to use, and sighed tensely. "I'm still working through that."
"So kissing me wasn't such a bad thing...?" The unexpected revelation had gone a long way towards lifting Dorian's spirits. He was grinning as he offered, "If you want more help 'working' through it, you know where to turn, Darling. As a spy, I can be extremely discreet."
Klaus' frown deepened, but he finally pulled forth a good retort, that spilled forth with a final breath of smoke from the cigarette. "Who me? I'm an ill man, Major Gloria -- sick, sick, and if I'm not allowed to smoke yet..."
"Suddenly you're awfully anxious to obey the rules," Dorian observed dryly, as he set his chin back on his knees. The smirk on his lips refused to fade, would probably be set there for the next week at least, confounding his men. Panzer's resistances had weakened further and faster than expected, and before much longer Eroica *would* own the man's affections.
But it really was best to step back for a while and enjoy the unexpected, lingering truce. Anything to prolong the enjoyment of the chase just an extra little bit...
After all, Panzer, too, was smiling as he shrugged and lit up another cigarette.
"Oh, and one last thing -- your fee. You'll have to come round the London office to settle it. The name of the man to ask for is Agent James. And Darling...? Good Luck."
God knew he was going to need it!