They had known, and what should have been a simple, straightforward mission had ended with Klaus and Dorian running for their lives.
He supposed he should be *grateful* they'd found a safe place to duck into. He supposed he should be grateful that the place had clothing readily available for them to slip into -- a lucky thing, since there were KGB agents searching through every building in the area.
Yes, he supposed he should feel lucky, but he didn't. He straightened the cuffs on his rented shirt and tugged at the sleeves of the too-tight tux jacket, and stared his doom in the face.
Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria, gazed up at him through ridiculously long eyelashes, his face framed by the Chapel of Love's one-hour rental bridal veil. Dorian smiled at him a little *too* happily.
Nope.
Definitely not feeling lucky at all.
Klaus's obvious irritation had no true effect on the smiling blond man. Indeed, Dorian had lived through much worse than the dyspeptic expression currently on the German man's face, and so it fazed him little as he beamed brilliantly upon hearing their names called. "It's time, darling," he said almost breathlessly, voice pitched deceptively high, eyes sparkling with unsubdued mirth and excitement. He had never hoped for such a thing as marriage of any sort to anyone -- after all, it wasn't as if he was interested in *women* or as if it was legal to marry another *man*.
He'd just never contemplated the possibility that he might wed Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach in a wickedly tacky ceremony in the backwards ridiculous country of the godforsaken (and Queen forsaken!) United States!
Needless to say, he was *ecstatic*.
Klaus felt a trickle of sweat tickling its way down his spine as the ceremony began. Any minute now, the KGB agents would look into the chapel, and either be fooled by their disguises or not, and he would probably have to kill them, but at least they'd be able to put an end to this... farce!
Dorian looked every bit the blushing bride; the dress was a little too snug in some places and too loose in others, but on the whole... on the whole, he could just about pass.
"Do you, young man, take this lovely lady as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forth, to love, honor and cherish until death do you part?"
Klaus paused, and felt Dorian's hand clenching his until the joints creaked, and he managed to grit out, "I do."
"And do you, young lady..."
As the preacher spoke on, Dorian heard the back door open, but didn't turn around. Instead, he continued beaming up at the man as his words continued onward. "...take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forth, to love, honor and obey until death do you part?"
"I do!" Dorian answered sweetly despite the pressure Klaus's fingers were applying to his own. Really! If the man bruised them, it wouldn't be *his* fault if he fumbled later trying to pick a lock, now would it!?
He looked up at Klaus and realized that the man was looking awfully pale. The British thief's smile wavered slightly, aquamarine gaze peering at the other man before it darted to the back of the tacky little chapel to see not just the usual run of KGB agents, but Mischa the Bear Cub *himself* standing in the back and smirking. No wonder Klaus looked so pale!! After all, they were all *right* *back* *THERE*, just waiting for them to screw up!!!
"I now pronounce you husband and wife!" the minister announced cheerfully. "You may kiss the bride!"
Klaus's eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor in a dead faint.
When next black lashes fluttered upward from pale cheeks, it was to see the distinctly worried expression of his arch-nemesis, that damned pervert of a burglar, staring down at him. It seemed obvious that Dorian was firmly lost in thought, for even his awakening drew no reaction from the blond man. Okay, so that must mean that Eroica was fretting about something else. What could be worrying the man so?
Dorian, for his part, was truly perturbed. How was he going to explain all of this to Klaus? How could he explain this to ANYONE!?!?!
"Where's Mischa?" Klaus asked groggily, realizing that he was in a hotel... in a *bed*... NAKED!!! "What happened? And... Where are my CLOTHES???"
"Well," Dorian began, "the tux rental was *only* for an hour, darling, you knew you'd have to give it back..."
"An hour?" Klaus echoed.
"An hour," he was informed. "And then you fainted, and, well..."
"I did *not* faint," Klaus growled. "And that does not explain why I'm currently wearing NOTHING!"
Impatiently, Dorian gave a little sound and shook his head, curls tumbling wildly in a profusion of little golden spills. "I was getting to that!! It's a good thing you signed the marriage certificate *beforehand*, because after you... er, took a rest on the chapel floor, *Mischa* and the *rest* of his men strolled up to congratulate us on our newly wedded status."
"That still doesn't explain why I'm NAKED!!"
With a shrug, the British thief curled his legs beneath him and leaned back on a hand. "Well...." he began again.
~/Flashback time! Bibbitybobbityboo!/~"Well, may I offer my congratulations?" Mischa chortled merrily, peering down at the unconscious Klaus. "I see it was a bit much for your bridegroom, hm?"
Tittering nervously, Dorian gave a little smile, extraordinarily grateful for the veil in that moment. "He's got a nervous disposition," he said, doing his best to mask his very British accent with one of those terribly *flat* sounding American ones.
"Well, allow us to offer you our assistance, then. I have a feeling our presence contributed to his nervousness, so it's the least we can do. We'll even put you up for the night in the best hotel in town," Mischa said grandly.
Damn! The man *would* offer to be magnanimous in his efforts to humiliate Klaus! How could anyone *not* tell who they were!? Even with his hair hidden beneath the rented top hat, Klaus's face was so distinctive... "Oh, *thank* you!" Dorian simpered, sweating heavily. /Damn! We're in a tight spot!/ "But we just couldn't let you do *that*. It would be so expensive!"
"Oh, no, I insist, my dear child. It's no trouble at all, we were looking for someone, and since you so obviously couldn't be *them*," and at that, Dorian winced, "we must make amends for making your poor dear husband so nervous that he fainted away and made a spectacle of himself upon the chapel floor! In a few years' time, the two of you will laugh about this, but these are the things that young couples learn to laugh about later!" With that, the Bear Cub gave a hearty laugh, clapping him heavily on the shoulder. "Come! We'll take your bridegroom with us!"
"Er... well, but his tux is rented, and we'll have to give it back," Dorian squeaked. His dress was rented as well! Oh, maybe he could steal one in the back...
"No problem, my dear! You poor sweet thing! We'll take care of it!" Another of those laughs as the Bear gave a snap of his fingers, his men stepping forward and quickly beginning to divest Klaus of his clothing before God and everybody.
At that, Dorian nearly shrieked and fainted himself! All of those years chasing after Klaus just for a few glimpses of him naked... "Not here in front of everyone!!!!" he squealed.
"Very well. We will take him to the hotel with us and remove his tuxedo there. I trust that will be all right," Mischa told the minister, offering him two hundred dollar bills, crisp, clean and undoubtedly counterfeit.
"Oh, no problem at all, no problem at all!" The minister was sweating heavily as he scrawled out his name on the papers, grateful that the groom had signed the marriage papers *beforehand*. It made it easier on the happy couple because their hands often shook too badly after the ceremony to sign them! "If you could just sign here as witnesses and get the tuxedo and gown back by noon... we have another wedding to perform then."
With that, Mischa's men scooped up Klaus's limp body and trooped out of the chapel.
Dorian had no choice but to follow.
~/End flashback! Bibbitybobbityboo!/~"And that's how it happened!" Dorian told him firmly, nodding.
"But that still doesn't explain why... I'm... NAKED!!!!!!!" Klaus bellowed.
With a sigh, Dorian put his head in his hands and then shook it slowly. "Major, darling, trust me, you simply don't want to know, really, you don't..."
Klaus grabbed him by the collar of his hotel terry robe. "I *do* want to know. Really. I *DO*." The words made him wince, though; after all, he'd already said 'I do' one time too many that day.
"All right!! All right! You don't have to strangle me, darling," Dorian told him a little sullenly. "I'll tell you. But you won't like it at *all*!"
~/Flashback time again! Bibbitybobbityboo!/~"Allow us to *assist* you in disrobing your bridegroom," Mischa nearly purred as they headed up the elevator towards the excruciatingly expensive and utterly tacky Aphrodite's Bower Suite at the Tranquilata Grand Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip.
"Oh, that's all right!" Dorian denied quickly, fanning himself nervously at just the *thought*. "Perhaps if you just left us outside of the room, he'll come to eventually and be able to carry me over the threshold... I'd hate to miss that!"
Mischa patted Dorian's hand and smirked. Smirked! "Ah, my dear child, we can't simply abandon you in the hallway with your husband ailing as he is! *I* have a solution," he informed as the elevator doors opened. "You will see."
THAT made Dorian *decidedly* nervous, and he glanced about, fanning a bit more quickly. This was no good! Noo~oo good!
The ping of the next elevator coming to the top floor sounded and he swallowed hard, watching as the other KGB agents shuffled forward, Klaus firmly in their grasp. "He's heavy," one of them grunted in thick accent. They looked obviously ill at ease, dark rings of sweat staining their suits.
"Well, he is about to get heavier!" Mischa replied.
Dorian was appalled when he realized that what they intended to do was scoop him up on top of Klaus and carry them both over the threshold! Nevertheless, it was accomplished, much to Mischa's glee.
"Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. I'm sure I can take it from here," Dorian declared, blushing. Even his curls had begun to droop, and the more he *thought* about the lot of them seeing a naked Klaus, the more he simply found it almost unbearable.
"No, no! We must first have your wedding clothes to return. You may change in the bathroom, dear lady. Your husband, we will take care of for you."
At that, Dorian drooped almost as much as his curls. Oh, fudge! He'd miss Klaus getting naked! He could have just snarled at that, but instead he simpered and turned for the bathroom -- a room containing only a toilet and bidet, since the shower and tub were both clearly out in the open only feet from the bed!
"Just pass out the dress," Mischa chortled. "We'll take care of the rest. Pay for the whole week's stay. Two, if you like."
"One," Dorian declared, "is more than enough! It's too kind of you..."
With a nod, the KGB agent grinned toothily. "We'll check back in on you later in the week to see if your nervous husband has recovered," he nearly purred as Dorian swept into the bathroom.
He began to undress, listening to the movements in the other room and hurrying as best he could. It was something of a problem as the dress's zipper ran down his spine and, rather unfortunately, he didn't move fast enough to see Klaus naked when he shoved the dress and veil out in one hand, peeking around the edge of the door. "Here!"
"We'll just leave you two lovebirds alone. Congratulations again, my dear," Mischa told him. "We look forward to seeing you... shortly."
And that was that.
~/End flashback! Bibbitybobbityboo!/~"That was the *worst* idea you've *ever* had, darling," Dorian sighed. "And I didn't even get to see you naked!"
"No, but apparently everybody else in the world did!" Klaus said, clutching the sheet more tightly to him. "And just look at this place! Just LOOK!!" With one wild gesture, he indicated the mirrored ceiling, the recklessly extravagant deep red satin that draped every square inch of the place, and even the *heart-shaped bathtub*!! "It's.... it's... HIDEOUS!"
"Well, it's certainly not very aesthetically pleasing," Dorian agreed, glancing up at the gold cherubs holding the crimson bed curtains in place. "However, it *does* have a few features you might not have yet noticed. For example, the KGB agents stationed in the hallway and outside of each window just *waiting* for us to reveal that we are not the wildly passionate young lovers which they expect very shortly to begin *shagging*, Major."
"Fine," Klaus growled. "Start making 'shagging' noises. I am getting dressed!"
With a drawl, Dorian laid out on the bed, legs seeming infinitely long beneath his short terry cloth robe. "Fine, darling. Just one problem, though. The only thing there is to *wear* would be one of these..." He pointed to the red satin heart on the left side of his little white robe. "So much for *that* idea. Are you sure you want me making the shagging noises all by myself?" he purred, blatant invitation.
"Turn on the tv. Maybe that'll distract them."
Blond eyebrows rose, full of sardonic amusement. "While we do what?"
"While we try to find or steal some clothing! You're a thief. DO something!"
"Oh, of course, darling. I'll just sneak right out in my little robe sans boobs past all of the KGB agents watching us and nip right back along with something for both of us to wear. Better yet, I'll call Jamesie and tell *him* where we are and to send something right along. They won't find any of that suspicious at all, ooh, noooo..."
"I. Want. Clothing! My underwear was not rented. What happened to that?"
Dorian sniffed. "I didn't see what they did with them. They took it all out while I hid in the bathroom pretending to be a shy *girl*. You can borrow mine if you like," he offered coyly.
"NO!"
With a sigh, Dorian shook his head, fluffing the curls that he'd washed while Klaus was unconscious. "Well, I rinsed them out, darling, but if you'd rather go around bare-butt, I assure you that *I* won't argue..."
"I could kill you now," Klaus muttered furiously, the muscles in his jaw clenching.
"Didn't you promise to love, honor and cherish?" Dorian asked him.
"Ah... ah...." the German man stammered, wild-eyed.
Sniffing, the blond nodded. "You *did* give your word. You *did* say 'I do'. Surely you don't mean you're going to go back on your word and do something so utterly non-cherishing as to *murder* me. So. None of that. Unless you mean... *little* deaths, darling..."
"I promised to cherish you until death us do part. So I could kill you now. Death would part us. I'd be released from my promise," Klaus growled.
"That'd break your promises of loving and honoring!" Dorian chided. "Not to mention cherishing!"
"Damn you, you fucking pervert! How the hell did we get into this mess anyway!? This is all your fault!"
With a roll of blue eyes, Dorian sighed melodramatically. "I suppose as a good, faithful, *obeying* wife, I'll just have to take your criticism and try not to be utterly dashed to the dirt by it, darling. You really have to brush up on your loving, honoring and cherishing, though, you know."
"Just go away," Klaus managed to groan, still clutching the covers as tightly as a terrified virgin on her wedding night.
"I suppose I could go and take a bath," Dorian drawled, scooting to the edge of the heart-shaped canopy bed, the robe riding up indecently, not that Klaus noticed. "Care to join me, darling?"
"No!" Klaus told him, grasping the sheets even more tightly, green-grey eyes wide with horror at the very notion. "Never!"
Shrugging, Dorian smiled. "You're never going to bathe? Ever? That'll make you a very unpopular man, darling," he sighed, shrugging off his robe and giving Klaus the eyeful of a lifetime.
"For God's sake, put that thing back on! What do you think you're doing, you pervert!?" he bellowed.
"Be nice, darling. The lovely KGB men are going to come peeking in if you don't stop yelling like a banshee," Dorian told him sweetly.
"The lovely KGB men will just assume that we are shagging," Klaus answered much less sweetly. "Cover yourself up!"
With a shrug, Dorian strolled across the vile carmine carpeting to the equally red tile that surrounded the heart-shaped tub set into the floor. It was already full of warm water and bubbles, the whirlpool jets setting the small amount of soap frothing. "Well, if you really feel that I must, Major..." he drawled, stepping in oh-so-slowly.
"Yes," Klaus said flatly, "you must, or I really *will* kill you, KGB agents or no."
"Well, at least I would've had your hands on my naked body once before I died, Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach," the thief purred.
"I guarantee you would not enjoy it! Now stop acting like the pervert you are and at least pretend to be a decent individual!" Eberbach snarled.
"Whatever you say, darling," Dorian said sweetly. "Obey you I will!" With that, he settled into the frothing water and leaned back against the side. "You could always join me, you know. Do a little of that loving, honoring and cherishing..."
"I think I wish I was dead," Klaus muttered. Once Dorian was safely concealed in the tub, he pulled the sheet loose from the bed and rose, carefully keeping the red satin fabric tucked around him to prevent even the slightest amount of skin from showing. He fashioned something of a toga from the sheet and, keeping one hand securely clamped to prevent the fabric from falling, he made his way over to the windows and pulled aside one panel of heavy crimson satin fabric to peer out.
Through the red, filmy under curtain, two KGB agents gazed back at him. Klaus grimaced -- the closest he could come to a smile -- and let the curtain slide back into place. So. Damn. Dorian had been right.
A knock at the door drew his attention, and he crossed the room to see who it was, glancing at Dorian to assure himself that the thief was still safely surrounded by bubbles.
When he opened the door, he found, rather than another KGB agent, a young man from the hotel staff, bearing a tray laden with... things.
"Your friend Mr. Mischa sent this," the young man said, tossing unruly bangs out of his piercing blue eyes and staring at him rather intently.
"Well... We don't want it!" Klaus replied, appalled. The tray was piled with an assortment of lotions, lubricants, flavored massage oils... Edible panties...
"He said I was not to take no for an answer," the young man replied. "Take it."
"Put it on the table," Klaus instructed, opening the door wide enough for him to come in. The young man silently complied. Klaus peeked out into the hallway -- sure enough, there was another KGB man stationed there -- then backed into the room. As he did, he looked over the young man's short, lean form, contemplating bashing him over the head with the tray and stealing his clothes.
Nope. He'd never be able to get so much as one leg into that boy's trousers. The young man, noticing his perusal, quirked an eyebrow at him.
"I don't swing that way," he said.
"Just get out," Klaus replied. The boy paused a minute, snorted in disgust when it became clear that no tip was forthcoming, and stalked back into the hall. Klaus locked the door securely behind him, then went to the tray and began digging through the items it held, inspecting them for hidden microphones or anything suspicious. Since all of it, aside from its intended use, appeared benign, he snatched up the edible panties and headed toward the bathroom with them.
They were small and strawberry flavored, but they'd be better than nothing at all -- and *anything* would be better than wearing Dorian's shimmery gold thong!
"Darling," Dorian drawled, moving to place both arms on the red tile at the bottom of the heart-shaped tub, "what on earth are you doing? If you want to use any of that stuff, I'll come recommend something, shall I? It all looks quite marvelous..."
"NEIN!" was the appalled bellow as Klaus clutched both his sheet and the strawberry panties. "I need no recommendations!"
/Poor, poor Klaus,/ Dorian thought with a little smirk. "Of course, darling. I hear and obey. If you wouldn't like a bath, perhaps you'd care to use the shower, instead." After all, the area designated as the 'bathroom', equally gaudy, had a shower stall with gold heart-and-arrow fixtures so that Klaus could use it if he so desired. "There's another robe, you know, as I told you. You might like that better than the sheet..." Of course, it would cover much less than the sheet did, a fact which could not help but make Dorian smi~ile.
"I am *not* taking a shower in there," Klaus said flatly, eyeing the shower stall -- with its clear plastic doors -- with distaste. Without so much as pausing, he swept into the small toilet area, sheets and all, and found to his dismay that Dorian's gold thong, freshly rinsed and dripping, hung over the doorknob. Wrinkling his nose, he pushed against the upper corner of the door to shut it.
The toilet/bidet area was small compared to the rest of the suite, but at least it was private. Klaus pulled on the edible panties, careful not to let his sheet fall, then he turned to walk back out... And that was when he realized that Dorian's thong was over the doorknob, and there was no way out of the room without *touching* the doorknob.
"Hey! Pervert!" he called. "Come open the door!"
"But darling," Dorian yelled to him, "you told me to cover myself! I did, I got into the tub and I'm covered. Do you mean to say that you didn't truly intend for me to stay covered always? Why on earth can't you just open the door yourself? Make up your mind!"
"WOULD YOU JUST OPEN THE DOOR!? HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO ASK! I THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OBEY!!!!!" Klaus roared. After all, those vows did go both ways!
"All right, darling, but don't say," Dorian purred as he slipped out of the tub and headed towards the little door dripping wet and naked to open it, "that I didn't warn you."
"Thank you. Now take your underwear and, for God's sake, put them ON."
Thoughtfully, Dorian lifted a hand to cup his face. "Mmmmmm.... No."
"Did you change your mind about obeying?" Klaus asked a little too cheerfully. "We'll get an annulment right now."
"No," Dorian said again, beaming at him, "but I would like a little loving, honoring and cherishing before I put them back on!"
"I haven't killed you yet, have I? That ought to count for something!" the German NATO major declared, blushingly refusing to look at his happily wedded 'wife'.
Shifting forward, Dorian pressed almost six feet of wet, naked and very excited flesh against the other man. "Not unless you intend to give me those little ones, darling dear."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Klaus said, hastily crossing the room and heading towards the window for a breath of fresh (or perhaps not so fresh, considering it was Las Vegas) air. He was halfway there when he realized that there were KGB agents out there and he really didn't care to have them see him in his current state of dishabille. It was a moot point, anyway; they both knew it was a retreat.
"Mmmmmm, Major," the naked blond thrummed, sashaying towards him. "If you don't understand what it is I'm wanting, then perhaps I could... SHOW you...." Just then, there was a knock at the door. Klaus practically sagged to the floor in relief before rushing to answer it. Dorian dove for the bed and the red satin comforter, clutching it quickly to his chest, looking (if anything) like a debauched bride when the door was opened.
"Champagne," said the young man from before, glaring at Klaus because he knew there really wasn't even much point in waiting for a tip this time. "Courtesy of your friend Mr. Mischa. Enjoy." With that, he turned and stalked away, leaving heart-shaped tray and all in Klaus's hands.
"Oh, *MARVELOUS*," Dorian sighed. "Shall we partake, Major?"
"Sure. You have some first," the man replied, green eyes glaring balefully at the tousled blond. Now he'd made the bed wet! And gotten his naked body all over it!!
With a beaming smile, Dorian took the first glass that was poured and drank from it, head tilting back so that the effervescent liquid would slide down easily, showing off his bared golden throat at the same time. "Mmmmm. It's really rather good," he sighed, most aware of Klaus's eyes upon him. "Why aren't you drinking any?"
Klaus paused a moment, confirmed that Dorian had not died of poisoning, and then poured himself a rather large portion and drank deeply. He was going to need an awful lot of alcohol to get through the night.
Suspiciously, the Briton clutched his throat, blue eyes widening impossibly as he fell back into the sheets just as Klaus sat down his glass. "Grk!"
Klaus gaped at him, wondering how long it would be before he would feel his own throat closing in death. It was a hell of a way to go, without even any clothes!! He dreaded what people would say when their two barely-clothed bodies would be found the next day, stone-cold DEAD!
Peeking one blue eye open, Dorian LOOKED at him and sighed. "You were experimenting on me again, darling! I just KNEW it! How utterly wretched of you," he sighed. "That's not at *all* loving, honoring or cherishing!"
Glaring at him, Klaus wordlessly swallowed the rest of his champagne, and then poured some more. At least if he had died, he wouldn't still be in THIS situation!
"I want some more," Dorian informed him, holding out his glass.
Klaus poured him a microscopic portion, clutching the bottle protectively to his chest along with his sheet. "I need it more than you do."
With a judicious eye, Dorian peered at his own glass, then took a good look at Klaus and the amount in *his*. "You know, darling, I do believe you're absolutely right," he offered brightly, plotting mightily already. Klaus, he knew, was well accustomed to hard liquor, but champagne...
Ahhh, champagne was another matter *entirely*. "Cheers, darling," he murmured, and drank down his scanty allotment. Ahhh, it was going to be a marvelous night!
Warily, Klaus sat down on the bed, making sure to tuck his sheet carefully around his bare legs and then just as cautiously chugged down more of the admittedly excellent champagne. It was going to be a long night.
He was only grateful that he had an incredible tolerance for alcohol!
Morning dawned early, bright and beautiful.
Too early.
Too bright.
Too beautiful.
Luckily enough, Dorian Red Gloria and Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach missed it *entirely*. Neither of them woke until noon, when a truly sadistic shaft of sunlight snuck in between the heavy curtains and the filmy red panels to strike directly against Klaus's eyes.
One eye opened blearily and Klaus moaned. Every *inch* of him hurt. /What the fuck happened?/ he wondered. /One minute we're drinking champagne. It was only a sip or two... and then...?/
"Mmmmmm, *darling*," Dorian murmured, an arm wrapping around Klaus's bare chest as a thigh slipped between those of the German major with a rather suspicious familiarity. "Last night was so utterly delicious. Who ever knew you could be so... *AFFECTED* by simple champagne? I should've gotten you drunk *ages* ago!"
Green eyes widened in sudden horror and with a single explosive movement, Klaus flung himself from the bed, taking the covers with him. "You fucking pervert! What the fuck did you do!? Don't you fucking TOUCH me!!" He staggered to the bathroom and the wretched sounds of one sad German being violently ill could be heard through the closed door.
"Well," Dorian said to himself, "THAT didn't go as well as I'd hoped..." Once again, there was a knock at the door. With a sigh, Dorian clutched several pillows around him, hiding himself at least from mid-thigh to shoulder. "Come in!" he called, leaning back against the tiny post that kept the heart-shaped canopy above the bed.
The door opened, the messy-haired bellboy tromping into the room. "Here," he said, thrusting a plastic-wrapped package in Dorian's general direction before changing his mind and placing it on the table. "Your friend Mr. Mischa had these delivered for you from the dry-cleaner," he declared with nasal tone. "He says he hopes your evening was even better than reported."
Unable to help himself, Dorian gave a slow, distinctly sensuous smile. "You can tell him for me that it was just *marvelous*," he declared, momentarily eyeing the dark-haired little creature. /Yum./
The young man glanced at him askance. "I don't swing that way either. I'll pass on your message. Do have a good day, ma'am," he said, and headed out the door a little more rapidly than necessary.
As the door to the hallway closed, the door to the bathroom opened, Klaus staggering out of it with a questionably stiff gait, much unlike his normal marching stride. "Darling," Dorian sighed, dropping the pillows and draping himself over the bed. "I do hate that you're feeling so wretched..."
"Did you...?"
"Well," Dorian admitted as he smiled beatifically, "you *did* order me to, and what sort of mate would I be if I couldn't fulfill my vows and obey?"
Klaus turned positively green enough to match his eyes as the dim recollection of his own voice saying, 'Do it. Whatever you do to James. Do... *IT*,' came back to him in an appalling rush. "You..."
"You *did* ask, darling. I swear you did!" the British man told him, aquamarine eyes guilelessly wide as he slid backwards over the bed as Klaus approached with his unfortunately bowlegged stride. "I mean, I was just obeying. Remember, love, honor, cherish..."
"You fucking pervert. I'm going to fucking kill you," Klaus growled, wincing as the sound of his own voice offended his sore head further, "but first I'm going to make you fucking WISH you were dead!"
"Oh." Dorian squeaked. "You mean you're upset? You DID ask," he pointed out once again.
Klaus fetched up against the edge of the bed and started crawling towards Dorian when the *second* big realization hit. "Shit. Mischa's the one who paid for this whole fiasco. It was MISCHA!"
"Erm... Yes, well... yes, and?" the thief asked, blinking rapidly.
"IT WAS MISCHA! THAT FILTHY COMMUNIST PIG USED *US* AS AN EXCUSE TO PASS MORE FUCKING COUNTERFEIT MONEY!!!"
Clutching his ears, Dorian gave a nervous little laugh. "Oh! I'll bet he even drugged the champagne, too, darling," he declared, nodding rapidly. "I'll bet he engineered the whole thing! It wasn't our fault at all!"
"I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL HIM! THAT FUCKING PERVERT! BUT FIRST I'M GOING TO FUCKING MAKE HIM WISH HE WAS FUCKING DEAD! I'LL CUT HIM OPEN LIKE A FUCKING BAG OF FUCKING WET GROCERIES AND DANCE ON HIS STICKY FUCKING BO~ONES!!!"
Ohhh, Dorian was *so* glad that it was Mischa at whom Klaus had decided to direct his righteous fury and almighty wrath! Another nervous titter escaped him. "Hehehe. He. He."
At that very moment, the door burst open, revealing a tidal wave of Alphabets, Eroica members and...
JAMES-KUN!!!
"WAHHHH!!! I KNEW IT! I *KNEW* you'd do *IT* with him!! I KNEW it would be too late when we got here! WAHHHH!!!!!!!" James shrieked, running forward and snatching at Klaus's sheets to cover his face as he bawled.
Rather unfortunately, to Klaus's undying embarrassment, the move revealed that he was clad in nothing more than a pair of half-eaten strawberry panties. It brought the entire room to a standstill, Alphabet, thief, and James-kun, before Klaus could snatch his sheet back defensively.
"Hehehe. He. He," Dorian declared again as he looked up to see A, B, G and Z looking at him with open-mouthed admiration, Bonham's head held in his hands. James's face was already screwing up for more wails. /Oh, what did I ever do to deserve THIS!? Oh, wait. I already know the answer to that question.../
And it was worth it.