"Did you see her claws? We're lucky we came away unscathed!"

Klaus had to admit, she had been rightly called a dragon. "You're lucky she didn't make a scene, or I'd have scathed you myself." He reached for the doorknob. "Now I'm leaving and you're--"

In the near complete darkness Dorian heard the doorknob rattle. "Major..." The rattle turned to a half-frantic jerking. "Umm..."

Klaus began to curse. Extensively. "The door is locked, you moron. You and your fucking zipper and that dragon bitch! She must have locked it!"

"Oh, Major," Dorian said and though Klaus couldn't see the self-satisfied smirk he knew it was there, "you forget who you have pressed against you... there's not yet been a closet door that's gotten the best of me."

"Back up, pervert, there was room enough before! Now open this door!"

"Oh, all right, but only because you were kind enough to help me. I would usually not waste such an... advantageous situation as this.... Are you quite sure you really must be going?" A rustle and a click that sounded suspiciously like the safety mechanism of a .44 magnum answered his question. "Bloody fine! One moment."

The Major could only just make out the outline of Dorian reaching into his hair for something, tools of the trade no doubt. Good place to hide them, surely. He could have hidden a small arsenal in that damned mane and no one been the wiser.

There was a bit of a struggle when Dorian tried to bend to the doorknob, particularly as the dress he wore was cumbersome, its folds copious, lined with layers upon layers of crinoline and lace. The Major was nudged, bumped and brushed no less than six times and was growing rather impatient. He had put away his Magnum but with no little reluctance.

"Major, darling," Dorian pleaded, "I really hate to inform you of this, but... you're either going to have shimmy past me or promise not to shoot me if I get too close to, er... to your, ehem..." a small, perverse, nervous laugh, "...your cannon."

Confusion furrowed the Major's brow, then anger creased it further. "You--!" he shouted, but fully aware of the party no short distance on the other side of the door, lowered his voice to an indignant whisper. "You perverse wanker! Are those my only options? Your face in my... or you and I... fucking Mary Mother of Christ, how in the hell did I get here?!"

Dorian had the good sense not to giggle. He knew the Major would realize he was right... and either way he was going to press the advantage of too little space.

"Fine. I will only shoot you if you touch me... and if you do not hurry." He thought. "Or if you ever refer to my anatomy in that way ever again."

Dorian's smile was audible, "Right."

The thief bent once again to his task and the Major pressed himself as much against the wall as he was able without undue injury. He heard a delicate metal-on-metal tinkering, and then again. And again. The Great Eroica must be getting rusty.

"Er, Major."

"STAND UP BEFORE YOU SPEAK TO ME!"

"It's not locked. I think it must be stuck."

Klaus, by instinct, leaned forward to make sure the damn fop wasn't lying or mistaken. He did not realize his error until he had bumped into Dorian, still on his knees and caught off-balance. As Dorian fell backward he reached for something to save him, which happened to be Klaus's lapel. They tumbled, one backward, the other forward, in a heap of crinoline.

Dorian recovered first, "I say, Major, fancy meeting you here."

Sprawled between Dorian's spread legs, Klaus felt himself grow hot, and not entirely with anger, though that was how it was expressed. "You and your fucking dress and your fucking locked door and your goddamned hair, and your zipper and fucking cannons and--" Hands were in his hair, a mouth on his, and the legs around him tightened. He felt Dorian pressing against him... all of him, and was just about to protest and throttle the thief when he realized that Dorian had sufficient reason to think the moment ripe for such action, the ache in his groin was surely evident to the other man.

Fuck.

The Major, who only then noticed that he had in fact been kissing back, withdrew to speak. "I hate you," he said, but without venom. He could just make out a beaming smile, lit by the little light coming in at the bottom of the door.

"Why Major, I believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He pulled Klaus down for another kiss.

"I'll have to break the door down," Klaus said moments later, "but not while this crowd persists."

"Oh no, certainly not," Dorian's grin was mischievous, but not half as much as the wiggle in his hips, or the slow rub of his thigh against the Major's side. "And it's early yet."

The Major growled, but the sound was less like warning than defeat. Blissful defeat.

"We may have to find a way to pass the time..." Dorian continued, "It could be hours."

"Hours..." was the only thing the Major could manage, his mouth being busy elsewhere.

It was three and a half hours later, in fact, when the pair finally stood, helping each other to adjust themselves to more acceptable appearances. Dorian straightened Klaus's tie and helped him find his pants in the dark. Klaus aided Dorian in re-attaching the knives to a belt at his thigh, and a few other small black kits of some sort elsewhere. Then, with a private smirk, zipped up his dress for him. No fear of dragons now.

"Sounds like the coast is clear," Dorian said, all business.

"Stand back."

"Wait, Major!... er, let me try one more time." He laughed nervously, fiddling with his tools once more, two seconds passed and the door clicked quietly open. "Oops... er. Perhaps it wasn't stuck after all."

The Major scowled, opened his mouth to shout, then closed it. Dorian looked worried. It suited him. "Good work, Eroica."

* * *

Illustration by SA