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He was now living the decadent sort of life-style that he'd shunned for all of his life. Only it didn't *feel* disgustingly decadent; it felt relaxing to rest with Dorian, to concentrate on holding the man. It let him assure himself, over and over, that Dorian was better, that they were fine, that they'd manage...

Klaus guessed, since he spent so much effort on that, that he probably wasn't okay. Not really, but the alternatives to the way he tended to Dorian and cared for him were simply unthinkable. Better to lov...

"Are you done dressing?" Klaus asked with a sigh in his voice, as he rested his elbows atop his knees, a bit restlessly as he worked at a fresh cigarette.

"Done!" Dorian agreed, stepping out of the bathroom. Since they'd left the hospital, he'd kept almost solely to dark, plain clothes, so seeing him in a black catsuit like the one he used for thievery with a bright blue silky shawl tossed back over his shoulders was almost enough to send Klaus into shock. "Do I look all right?" he asked worriedly. He fretted more about the scars on his face during the day, but during the dimly lit nights as they walked on the decks, it didn't bother him as much. He could be himself again, and not think about people staring at him for any reason other than his sheer exuberance and -- yes -- beauty.

"Perfect." Klaus stood to take his arm, to guide him towards the door. "I think the ship will be just pulling out now, so we'll get to see the back of whatever cheap port we've pulled into."

"And on to Greece!" came the excited laugh in return. "I can't wait, darling. Greece is beautiful this time of year, really."

"I'll be glad as long as I don't have to flip any skirts while we're there," he snorted mildly, taking a draw of smoke and letting it dissipate. "More resting planned?"

"And museums," Dorian informed him. "I want to show you some of the things that I so love, and show you why."

"'Why' is going to be hard," Klaus mused as they went up the stairs. "Though, I did read that book you gave me."

That got him a glance and a distinct smile. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I was convalesced, and I read it." That was half-dismissive, but Dorian knew better -- if it had been read at all, it said a lot.

"Then it won't be as hard as you think," Dorian murmured. "That's a start."

"I'm aware it was a *children's* book, Dorian." Which meant it was made for short attention spans and low interest.

"That's how *I* got started," he was informed, sparkling blue eyes peering at him once they reached the upper deck. "And you see where I am today."

"Then you mean it's not too late to reform how you think about guns?" Klaus asked him in a light tease, as he, too, took a brief glance around for a moment, then led Dorian towards an uncrowded part of the railing that was nearly on the other side.

"Darling," Dorian said firmly, "I sincerely doubt *that* will ever change. There's something utterly horrid about the things once they're in my hands, somehow," he murmured wryly.

"Same with art and me," Klaus murmured. "Other things are just more useful."

"Well, darling..." That was shortly interrupted by familiar voices, speaking in another language.

"[Are you sure this is a good idea?]" Mischa drawled, leaning against the deck wall. "[I am not so sure about that.]"

"[Through the Mediterranean it will be easier to get these documents back to headquarters...]"

Polar Bear, Klaus recognized easily enough.

"Klaus," Dorian whispered almost silently, tugging his shawl up over his bright golden tresses. "What do we do?"

"When they get closer, walk away. Evasive maneuvers." Klaus's voice was barely a whisper as he turned more towards Dorian, tightening the gap between their bodies to make them seem all the more natural for wanting privacy on the deck.

With care, Dorian obeyed, half-listening to the conversation despite the fact that he didn't understand it.

"[We have already run into Iron Klaus here in the land of capitalists. I have no desire to run into anyone else like that while we are here, and going so slowly makes it risky,]" Mischa growled, obviously unhappy with the matter.

"[You've run into Iron Klaus? *Here*? What was that capitalist bastard doing in the Northern Americas?]" Polar Bear demanded to know.

"[Vacationing with the queer thief. NATO retired him,]" Mischa answered grimly, "[after the Stasi tortured them both.]"

"[Retired?]" Polar Bear laughed roughly at that thought. "[With Eroica...? I would have expected him to kill himself before he let himself be retired.]"

The reply was almost bleak. "[He's missing two fingers and an eye,]" Mischa said. "[It wasn't honorable in the least. The thief's been raped and had his face cut up.]"

"[Hmn... a pity, but there are risks when coming against the Stasi,]" Polar Bear dismissed. "[Did he interfere with your mission?]"

"[NATO was also there,]" Mischa answered dismissively, shrugging. "[I captured Iron Klaus and the thief for a while, but they were on the level, so.]"

"['On the level'?]"

"[Honestly there for the reason they claimed,]" Mischa muttered, resisting the urge to shake his head. "[It's a euphemism.]"

"[You need to spend less time in the west, Mischa,]" Polar Bear scowled, starting to walk towards Klaus and Dorian. Klaus heard approaching footsteps, and leaned closer to Dorian, still listening to the pair's conversation, even as he pressed his face against Dorian's neck to kiss gently above the collar of the catsuit Dorian wore. "[Iron Klaus, vacationing -- I still think it's a crock.]"

"[It's truth. I saw the eye for myself and we hacked NATO's databases,]" Mischa drawled. "[They discharged him.]"

"[Hmn... idiots. You should have captured him, Mischa -- the man is still a walking database, even discharged. He knows more classified things than we know exist. A few weeks of working him over, and our cause would be furthered greatly.]"

"[Cause or no cause, I will not do it.]" That was a flat refusal. "[There should be some courtesies, even among spies. He would give you no information, anyway. The Stasi got none from either of them.]"

Dorian shivered, tucking his head against Klaus's. /I want to go.../

"[None? I'm amazed...]" Their voices faded slowly as they moved past, turning a corner.

"Back to the room," Klaus whispered, lifting his head a little.

Grateful, Dorian moved with Klaus as they slipped to the stairs and hurried down them and into their room. The moment the door closed, the blond thief was in his arms and clutching him tight, shivering violently. "Oh, *God*!"

"Dorian... Dorian, we're *fine*," Klaus murmured near his ear, holding the earl tightly. "All right? We're fine."

"But what if..." he began.

"No." He pulled back just enough to look Dorian in the eye. "No -- we won't do that."

Tears welled up in those brilliant blue eyes, Dorian's forehead dropping to rest on his chin. "I love you, Klaus. I'm sorry for panicking so..."

"We did okay... No one panicked," Klaus sighed, holding Dorian still and close for the comfort. A few beats of silence passed, and Klaus let his own body relax back against the bulkhead. "Okay?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered, wrapping his arms tightly about Klaus's neck. "I'll be okay. You?"

/Even years from now, the KGB will still want me, for what I know.../ They'd never *really* be safe, even if they decided not to do contract work. They could go live in a cave somewhere, completely reclusive, and the KGB would still want to pick his mind... "Ja," he lied. "Let's read for a while. I'm sorry we couldn't stay above deck..." /You look so beautiful, and I want you to feel relaxed about that again.../

"Maybe tomorrow," Dorian whispered. "I'll cover my hair, wear glasses..."

"Mischa will recognize me," Klaus murmured with a shrug. "But, tomorrow. We'll be all right. The boat-trip isn't so long..." Only a week and a half.

"We'll think of something?" Dorian suggested, reaching up to kiss him on the mouth, a motion meant for comfort, to feel better.

Light, the familiar bus of lips to lips that drew a sigh from Klaus. "Ja. Something. But not right now. For now... we'll read." The way they'd done once before, after a bad nightmare that *he* had been struck with -- Dorian had grabbed the Wooster and Jeeves book, and read a chapter aloud to him. Perhaps, time to return the favor.

"That sounds not so bad," the other man agreed quietly. "Change into pajamas and read a little..." He liked to sleep naked, but it was better not to upset or shock Klaus that way any more than he had to do so.

There seemed to be, clearly laid out in Klaus's mind, a difference between falling into a doze after making love, and *sleeping*. One required a modicum of clothing, though some nights Klaus forswore shirts. "Yes; to get breakfast tomorrow, one of us will go up disguised; past that, I'm still thinking."

"I'll do it," Dorian told him, beginning to undress, the white satin pajama shorts and sleeveless shirt dropped on the bed. "They won't recognize me, I don't think. I can use make-up..." To cover the scars...

"Only if you want to." Klaus never pressed the issue very far. If he ever did, Dorian might think he cared about those scars; and he did, but only how they affected the way Dorian felt in public. He didn't care if they were there, weren't there, whatever. Dorian was his, drew up emotions from him that nothing else could, was beautiful and wanted him. Everything he could want in a partner.

Everything...

"I don't mind," Dorian said simply, smiling at him even as he slipped into his pajamas. "I'm accustomed to pretending to be someone other than who I am." He was also VERY good at disguises, and so it shouldn't be too difficult to slip into the dining room and fetch breakfast... "We could always just have room service, darling..."

"With the luck I have," Klaus murmured as he moved around the partition that kept the bathroom separate, pajamas in hand, "Mischa will be parading as room service."

A snort left Dorian, not quite amusement. "No. With our luck, the *other* one will be."

"Polar Bear." Mischa, he respected; his co-agent, a man with a personality to match Klaus's own, without the same honor and bit of childishness behind it... "I would rather tangle with the Cub."

"He's less likely to run off with us to do..." THOSE sorts of things to them. Dorian shivered, crawling under the sheets of their bed. "Me, too."

"At least if Mischa takes it into his head to kill someone, he does just that." Which would be far preferable to being tortured, captured in any form... Klaus came back out dressed in an undershirt and sweat pants, set his clothes in the suitcase, and then he, too, slid under the covers. Nowhere near tired, but it would be good to feel Dorian close.

The moment he was in the bed, Dorian was snuggled up against him, arm across his chest, knee drawn up over his thighs. "Maybe it'll be all right," he suggested. "Not as much fun as we'd hoped it would be, but..."

Dorian's position left Klaus how he most liked to lay -- on his back, and able to curl an arm up behind Dorian, to keep him close. "Do you want to read?" /I'll see you relax if I have to push them both overboard./

"Why don't you read to me?" Dorian asked, closing his eyes, cheek resting against Klaus's shoulder. "I'd like that..."

"Which book?" he asked.

"What you're reading is fine," Dorian answered quietly, hand lightly rubbing over Klaus's flat stomach.

That movement got him a pleased sigh, and Klaus half-heartedly batted at that hand as he leaned away for a moment to snag _The Dragon and the George_. "It won't make sense."

"Doesn't matter," he was reassured, Dorian sighing quietly. "Just read to me."

That was because Dorian didn't want to *hear* the story... he just wanted to hear Klaus's voice, and to be reassured by it. "All right," he murmured, and then began to read.


Sun was spilling in through the porthole come morning, nothing but bright blue water all around the boat and bouncing that dazzling light directly at him. Dorian, miraculously, was still asleep when Klaus woke -- asleep and firmly, uncomfortably, pressed against the German man. The blond thief shifted, sighing in his sleep as he pushed his rear into the cradle of Klaus's hips, rubbing at the morning erection that was found there with a motion that was nearly enough to send Klaus screaming from the bed. If he hadn't heard a wanton little sound coming from his beautiful companion, even asleep, he probably would have.

Not that it was unenjoyable -- but it shot white-hot pokers of fear through him that *more* than overshot the heaviness of a morning hardon. Damn the silky white material and damn his sweat pants, both! The two materials, conspiring against him, let the sway of their bodies drive his erection right up along the cleft formed by two firm globes.

It took everything in his power to start to untangle himself slowly.

"Mmmmnnn, Klaus..." It was said sleepily, Dorian squirming closer to him again, whining softly as he pressed himself back against that hardness. "Ohhh..."

/Is he doing this consciously?/ Klaus wondered, shuddering when his own hips canted forwards against Dorian's firmly muscled bottom. Felt so good... /No, no, no, no, nonono.../ He did jerk back, stumbling back out of the bed and taking the covers with him.

That made Dorian jerk awake, blue eyes going wide. "Klaus!? Did..." As he looked at the dark-haired man on the floor, his mouth curled up at the edges. It was difficult to fight off amusement in that moment, even as his hand came up to cover his mouth and (with little hope) stifle the sound of his laughter. "Oh, Klaus..."

"'s not funny," Klaus growled, still breathing hard, shaking a little. Dorian had been asleep, or had he been faking it...?

"Of course not." The chuckles were cut off automatically, Dorian's face going serious. "How'd you end up on the floor? I've never woke up to *that* before..."

/Woke up to someone probably half a minute from just ripping both our pants and fucking you then and there, or me on the floor...?/ "I just panicked. 'S nothing." He started, slowly, to stand up, blankets wadded up in one hand and still partly wrapped around him; it well hid his still throbbing erection. /I'm an idiot and an asshole./

"...panicked?" Dorian asked, frowning. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Ja, something," he drawled, cheeks flushing a little as he moved back to the bed and tossed the blankets back atop Dorian, before he moved to start morning pushups.

Dorian smiled at him, leaning over the edge of the bed. "You know, I love to watch you do that," he sighed, watching Klaus's rear appreciatively. "What's wrong, Klaus?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?" Klaus asked between his pushups. Perhaps it hadn't been the best choice of exercise, because with every time his body dipped downwards, there was just one thought in his mind.

"Do you truly think I don't know when something's upsetting you?" The reply was murmured, and Dorian didn't *look* upset, but he did seem somehow quietly worried. "Whatever it is, Klaus, you can tell me. Is it the Soviets being on the ship?" That was certainly enough reason to be worried, but... Dorian didn't think that it was quite *that* bothering him. No, it was something else....

Now that Dorian was *pressing* the issue, it seemed more and more idiotic to Klaus. /Yes, something's wrong -- I want to fuck you, I want to have sex with you, I'll hurt you if I do that, because no matter what you say, I can't believe it doesn't hurt.../ "It's nothing, Dorian."

The sheer sorrow in those blue eyes made him ache to see. "All right," the Briton murmured in agreement, laying back on the pillows and closing his eyes. "But if you decide later that you want to talk about it... I love you. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

"I just don't want to run in the same rut I fall into often enough," Klaus told him, as he turned over and started to do sit-ups. The pushups hadn't done his arousal a lick of good.

"All right, Klaus." Obviously offers of help weren't going to go too far. "Shall I call for breakfast?" he asked, a leg propping up with foot flat on the mattress so that Klaus got a view of one long pale gold leg, the sight of it distinctly erotic.

As if he needed anything else erotic in that moment! "Yes; you make the call," Klaus agreed, doing his sit-ups faster now.

Rolling over so that he laid on his belly, Dorian made the call, fingers wrapping in the phone cord as he ordered orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon and english muffins, a last minute thought adding strawberries and powdered sugar to go with coffee before he hung up the phone. "Klaus. We really should talk about whatever's bothering you, rut or no rut," he said firmly. "If we can talk it out, we won't have to visit that rut again."

"Don't... bet on it..." He reached two hundred, and then laid back, stretching out his muscles, heels still against his bottom, knees still bent, erection still present. Dorian was right, though -- talking always helped somehow, and wasn't *HE* usually the one trying to get the ruts filled in? "I woke up differently than we usually do."

"Obviously," Dorian told him dryly. "You were on the floor with the covers when *I* woke. What brought that on?"

/Just tell him -- and then he can laugh, I'll pretend it was just an overreaction, and it's done with until we wake up like that again./ "You were... grinding back against me."

"...you mean...?" A slight wriggle of his rear came in imitation. "That? Against...? Oh, Klaus. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..."

Dorian's calm, almost pity-filled reaction, made Klaus feel all the worse. /Nothing. Nothing at all to him. I'm such an idiot.../ "It was just a shock," he excused.

A hand reached out, nimble fingers caressing his face. "Klaus. Darling..." He bit his lip, looking at the other man. "I really won't mind if you do it. I know you wouldn't ever hurt me. I know you're afraid of that, but it wouldn't be painful or humiliating or any of those things. Not with you." Not to mention the fact that Dorian *himself* would feel better knowing he could still do it. If he couldn't, if he panicked, he knew that it would make Klaus feel terrible and himself feel worse, but... "I need to know if we *can*. If *I* can. If I can get past... all of that..."

Klaus sat up fully, still on the floor while Dorian lazed and partly dangled off of the bed. It made the fingers on his face brush a little harder, with a little more of that comforting contact. "But what if you can't? Then it would hurt you."

"If I can't, then I'll tell you to stop. I trust you," Dorian told him with excruciating solemnity.

Klaus was quiet as he mulled it over, and over again, moving his right hand to cup the fingers against his cheek. "Tonight, then. We'll... try it."

The softening of Dorian's face was impossibly sweet as he leaned further off the bed, supporting himself on his left palm as he lightly pressed his lips to Klaus's. "It will be all right," he whispered, a promise to himself as much as it was to Klaus.

"You probably thought you'd never hear that from me," Klaus whispered, taking that sweet kiss and returning it just as a knock sounded on the door. "I'll get the food." Since he was on the floor anyway.

"Never," Dorian agreed, stealing one more kiss before laying back in the bed to look at the ceiling, heart beating frantically from that simple promise. /Oh, Klaus,/ he thought, smiling as the other man brought their breakfast in and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's going to be a perfect day today," he decided.

"It will be if I push Polar Bear overboard," Klaus uttered, looking seriously at Dorian. "Is... do you really want to do that... with... Do *that*?"

"With you? Yes," Dorian told him, turning on his side. "I want to do *everything* with you. I trust you, Klaus. No one else..." Not even James anymore, his poor cranky boy. He just couldn't. Not anymore...

"I trust you, too." But, Dorian already knew that, and more. He offered the other man a plate, and then picked up his own. "I'm sorry if everything is... going slowly because of me."

Sitting up, the blond man took one of Klaus's hands in between both of his own. "No. Whatever you want, it's fine. I..." He tilted his head to the side and smiled. "I want us both to be comfortable, though."

/Tolerant beyond a fault,/ Klaus thought to himself, as he looked at Dorian's expression. /If I hurt him.../ He wouldn't ever forgive himself. Ever. "Better circumstances for all of this would have made it easier."

"If wishes were horses, we'd all be racing at Ascot, sweet. Shall we have breakfast?" Dorian asked with a smile.

"I suppose so..."


The sun was nearly finished setting, casting a golden glow across the water as Klaus and Dorian strolled along the deck, a breeze wafting in off of the cool ocean. They weren't quite out of the islands yet -- a slight engine problem had, apparently, kept them from leaving when they should have. Since they'd been in their room most of the day, neither man had really noticed, though they probably should have.

"It's beautiful," Dorian sighed, leaning against the railing. "It's almost a shame to *leave*."

"Leave America?" Klaus snorted as he leaned forwards a bit more, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dorian. "It's been a good trip, good for both of us, but this 'new world' can't hold a candle to home."

"Not a doubt," Dorian replied. "We've been happy here, though. Maybe that's what it is."

"We'll be happy in Germany, or England, or wherever we live," he shrugged. "Ja?"

"Ja," came the teasing reply, the thief tilting his face upward to smile.

"You're mocking me, aren't you?" Klaus asked, narrowing his eye as he turned his head to look straight at Dorian -- it was good-natured expression, though, and he leaned close as if to kiss Dorian before he jabbed him lightly in the stomach with a chuckle.

That gained him soft laughter and a kiss in return, lips lingering against his own before a whispered breath came to his ears, still filled with utter amusement. "Ja~a..."

"Hmn, hmn, you're incorrigible," came the warm decision, before Klaus turned his head and caught the earl's lips in his, a slow, tender kiss that more than showed his delight with Dorian's playfulness.

"Mmmmhmmmmmm." That agreement was given under Klaus's lips, accompanied by the curve of a smile as Dorian shivered. He liked this little spot, mostly abandoned, and no one had caught them kissing yet on their trip, though why either of them felt there was a 'being caught' to worry about... Klaus wasn't so conscious of that factor as he had been once; perhaps it was just that he no longer cared if people saw, and recognized them. Those people who'd judge... What were they to him and his desperate hold on life? Nothing!

A hand settled on Dorian's back, tugging him a bit closer now, the kiss sliding minutely deeper by the moment. It drew a pleasured sound from the tall blond man, his arms wrapping tightly about Klaus's neck for a moment before they parted, Dorian whispering, "Let's go back to our room, darling?"

"Not yet," the German murmured, looking warmly into his lover's eyes with his own monocular gaze. Yes, life was good...

"What have we here?" a Russian-tinted voice broke in, striding up beside them.

The way that Dorian stiffened was felt more than seen, his blue eyes darting to the side as Klaus shifted him momentarily closer to him.

"Polar Bear," Klaus nearly sneered, as he turned to look at the Soviet agent, slowly. The missing eye and a certain... differentness in his expression were both easy to spot. "Having a good cruise?"

"I do hope you're enjoying it as much as we are," Dorian said lightly, hand on Klaus's chest. "Sunset was delightful."

"Mischa told me you two were vacationing, but truly... this sodden love-bird cover does not suit you, Iron Klaus," Polar-bear laughed.

"And here I thought the entire Soviet *regime* was just *waiting* for the day when I'd finally seduce him so they could shoot me," Dorian drawled, almost painfully aware of the Russian man and the way in which he looked at them.

"You're not welcome here, Polar Bear -- so go away, unless you want us dragged into another mission."

The man snorted, raising both eyebrows. "*I* am not Mischa. I don't believe you're not on a mission, Iron Klaus. I warn you -- don't interfere with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dorian drawled. "We're *on* *holiday*."

"Twice now, you've vacationed to cross our paths. Do not think such a weak cover can last for long," Polar Bear warned them.

"We have shitty luck. I don't want to keep running into you fools," Klaus scoffed. "Let's go back to our cabin..."

Wordlessly, Dorian shifted a foot, moving away with Klaus still close beside him. /I don't trust that man. Damn. And with no way for us to get off of the boat, either.../

Klaus's thoughts, too, were along that line... and then again, he wanted to hear more. So when, as they walked forwards and Mischa came into view, he decided that it would be best to circle back around the deck, and eavesdrop as they had the last time.

"What are we *doing*?" Dorian asked him in a whisper, frowning.

"A favor for NATO," Klaus uttered just as softly, not changing their pace or their closeness.

"You mad, mad man!" was the sighed response, but Dorian didn't resist. His natural curiosity was quite enough to drive him along with Klaus to find out what was going on! "There was a lifeboat near them. Perhaps if we slid under its cover, we could hear them without being seen..."

"Yes," Klaus decided. Yes, unseen and close enough to them... He picked up his speed a bit more, perhaps rushing to get there in good time and start listening. Oh, to have a good bug and recorder!

It was easier than it *should* have been to slip into the lifeboat, and they were lucky they had done so when they did! Polar Bear and Mischa were coming along the deck towards them, and still talking!

Klaus settled in close to Dorian, their heads nearly touching as they listened to the approaching conversation.

"[Iron Klaus is here -- with his pet thief, Mischa.]"

"[Here??]" Mischa asked, sounding surprised.

"[On this boat, yes! I came across he and that British man making out like two teenagers.]" The distaste and lingering bits of shock were very evident in his voice.

The shrug was almost audible in Mischa's voice. "[So long as they are together, they seem able to survive. After what the Stasi did to them, I am not surprised. And now that they are only civilians... Eh. What does it matter if they are faggots?]"

"[I don't think they're civilian -- I think this is a cover, and that they are following us!]"

"[I don't agree, but you'll continue thinking as you like,]" Mischa grumbled.

"[Why don't you agree, Mischa? It's so damned suspicious!!]" Polar Bear was obviously agitated.

"[I don't agree because I've seen them and seen the records of what was done to them! ANY agency would dismiss someone for half of what happened to them. And what use is Iron Klaus without a right hand to fire? Hm? Did you notice his hand? The eye?]"

"[I noticed the eye, but I thought that patch was an affectation,]" Polar Bear growled lowly, taking a look around. "[All right -- never mind them, then. As long as we do not find them acting suspicious, I suppose we can leave them be. The mission, now...]"

"[Agreed,]" Mischa sighed. "[We still have Clark in our pocket. It should be no serious problem that NATO has caught the agent Howell was stupid enough to send. They won't know we still have other men bought and paid for.]"

Dorian could feel Klaus tense beside him, the German leaning closer. /Clark,/ he thought, /is too common a name -- give us more, just a bit more detail.../

"[What if the one caught speaks?]"

"[It won't matter,]" Mischa replied. "[He doesn't know we have the director's secretary in our pocket.]"

/But I know... The secretary of a director... he or she is called 'Clarke' or 'clark', one of those spellings.../ Klaus was tensely still as he continued to listen.

"[Then nothing has been disrupted other than a minor cog.]"

"[More or less,]" Mischa agreed.

It was then that the urge overtook Dorian. He tried to resist it. He *did*, terribly, burying his face against Klaus's shoulder, holding his breath. It didn't work, however.

He sneezed.

/Fucking shit./

"[What was that?!]" Polar Bear snapped, looking around.

Ohhh, this was bad! Dorian clapped his hands over his mouth and shuddered. /No, no, no!!/

"[It was nothing,]" Mischa said, and Polar Bear did not resist. The footsteps approaching the little life-boat seemed to belie that -- yet Klaus stayed still, keeping Dorian nearly smothered against him, so close he was. "[I'm sure it must have been our imaginations. After all...]"

"[After all, why would a sneeze com from a life raft?]"

"[Perhaps it has a cold,]" was the polite response as Dorian squirmed slightly, another sneeze coming on rather quickly.

/Can't sneeze!! CAN'T sneeze!!/

"[Why don't we air it out first, to see if it really has a cold, or...]" The cover came up in a snap, to find Klaus and Dorian huddled together. Klaus's first reaction was to spring to his feet, to get out of the life-boat. Sadly, he wasn't expecting the butt of the gun that whacked him upside the head the moment he began to move.

"Klau-!"

Neither was Dorian.

"[Well?]" Mischa asked, scowling. Such busybodies! /Making my job difficult is so like the two of you!/

"[They must have heard what we said. Let us kill them, put the tarp back down, and let someone else stumble across them,]" was Polar Bear's suggestion.

"[I have a better idea...]"

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