Chapter Four

Now it was just before 7 am. Klaus’s own internal clock had awakened him before the alarm. Dorian was dead asleep, an expression of utter bliss and contentment on his supple face, and Klaus was loathe to wake him. Slipping from the bed, he went to the bathroom for a shower and shave, noting with some surprise that he had several small love-wounds marking his chest and shoulders. Dorian Red Gloria, in the throes of passion, could be quite wild indeed. He inspected the scratches and tiny teeth marks, determining that they were nothing more than superficial passion marks, and took his shower.

Dorian was still asleep when he finished so he dressed and combed his hair. He knew he had to deliver the microfilm to NATO as soon as possible. That meant leaving for Bonn as quickly as they could get out the door. The longer he kept the microfilm, the greater the danger to the both of them. He wasn't sure if Dorian should accompany him or not. Regardless, the bed was wrecked and reeked of sex and sweat, and he needed to launder the sheets before NATO had someone in to clean the flat.

"Dorian," he called, sitting on the bed and shaking one shoulder lightly.

"Mmmmph," the Earl complained, screwing his eyes tightly shut.

"Dorian," he said a little more forcefully.

"Go 'way. Sleepy," came the muffled reply as the Earl attempted to cover his head with the blankets.

Both amused and irritated, Klaus took matters into both hands and deftly stripped the bed of its blankets and dropped the Earl on the floor.

"Ow!" Dorian yelped, squinting owlishly up at the man towering above him.

"Guten Morgen," he greeted cheerily at the naked man now lying in a heap on the carpet.

"Fuck you."

"Ooo, testy in the morning, are we?"

"Only when overzealous control freak majors dump me buck naked on the floor at... what time is it?"

"Twenty minutes after seven," he replied.

"At this UNGODLY hour," the Earl continued peevishly. "Don't you think I've a right to be testy?" he finished with a pout.

Klaus lit a cigarette and drew on the tip, blowing out the smoke calmly. He had cut down his smoking considerably over the years, but today he knew he was going to need the nicotine just to get through the day. "No. Now get up and take a shower. You stink and we have to leave for Bonn as soon as possible."

The Earl struggled to his feet, lifting up an arm for Klaus to help him up. Klaus took his wrist gently and easily lifted him, setting him on his feet and giving a precursory look at his bruises.

"Hmm, healing up all right," he noted.

The Earl brushed him off. "Yes, they are. I'm just stiff this morning. For more reasons than one."

Klaus’s heart blanched. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Dorian met his stricken gaze with a smile. "No, darling, you didn't. I'm just a little... tender. I'm fine. Better than fine. I'll go take a shower now and that will help."

Without waiting for his answer, Dorian left for the bathroom. In his absence, Klaus stripped the bed, gathered up all the soiled clothes from the night before, laid out his terry cloth robe for the Earl to wear, and took the laundry down to the building's laundrette. He used detergent supplied in the safe house in the wash and left the laundry churning in the washer. Then he crossed the street to the bakery next door and purchased coffee and pastries for the morning's breakfast, and bought yogurt and a newspaper from another nearby store. On his way back to the flat, he detoured past the laundrette and switched the laundry into the dryer.

Dorian was seated at the small table in the flat, wrapped in Klaus’s robe, when he returned. The blond gave him a wary, uncertain look as he put down the coffee, yogurt and pastries, and sat down to breakfast.

"Eat," he ordered, shoving the yogurt, a pastry, and one cup of coffee, sweetened to the Earl's tastes with cream and sugar, towards the silent man. He then hid himself behind his paper and smoked another cigarette.

"Major?"

"Yes?" he answered brusquely.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Being washed along with my clothes and the sheets from last night," he answered.

"Oh."

He resumed reading, then noticed that he did not hear Dorian eating. He lowered the paper and looked at the Earl.

"Are you all right? You're not eating."

"I'm sorry. I'm not very hungry."

"Are you feeling sick?"

Dorian shook his head. "No. No nothing like that."

"You should eat. Your body is healing. It needs nourishment," he stated, concerned.

He watched as Dorian made a token effort to sip his coffee and eat a bite of the pastry.

"There," the thief said.

"Gut," he answered and hid behind his paper again.

A moment later he heard Dorian speak.

"Klaus."

"Yes?" he answered, turning the page.

"Klaus. Please?"

He sighed, folding the paper and putting it aside. There was no way the Earl was going to let this go. He was going to have to face it.

"What?" he tried.

"Klaus, it's morning."

"So it is," he agreed.

"Klaus, you promised we'd talk in the morning."

He swallowed hard, some of his cold façade slipping. "So I did."

They were silent. Dorian could not meet his eyes.

"Lets get this over with then," the Earl whispered, resigned.

"What?"

"You're going to tell me you hate me. That I seduced you. That you despise me and want to kill me and to get out and you never want to see me again. Please wait until I have clothes before you toss me out on my ear."

He tried to remain calm, but his hand gripped the table.

"You seem very certain that is what I am going to do," he replied calmly, too calmly.

"Isn't it?" Dorian asked, looking at him with a heartbroken expression on his face.

"No," he answered flatly.

"Then what..."

"What?"

Dorian sighed, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "Then what happened between us last night?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious."

Dorian looked crushed. "I see. It was just sex then. I suppose it's more than I could ever hope to have from you. I knew we would only have one night together. Still..."

Now he was growing angry, and he clenched his teeth fighting for calm. "Dorian, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"I didn't expect any declaration of love, but I hoped it was more than just sex to you. It was more than just sex to me."

"Are you... are you accusing me of using you for casual sex?" he barked angrily.

"It wouldn't be the first time I have spent the night with someone who had second thoughts in the morning. I don't blame you, Klaus. I know you're straight..."

"Dorian, shut up."

"Don't feel guilty, Klaus, please. I know that all too often things which seem right and good in the dark, look much different in the light. I am just glad that you don't seem to hate me..."

"Dorian. Shut up."

"I'll leave you alone for a while, of course. This sort of thing tends to cause delayed trauma, especially in one so... up in years as you. Such a thing is surely to come as quite a shock. Maybe you should consider seeing someone..."

He slammed his hand down on the table forcefully, making the coffee slosh over the sides of the cups. Dorian flinched and looked at him with frightened eyes.

"Dorian! Shut! Up!"

Dorian shut up. He lit another cigarette to assuage his frayed nerves. He did not want to be having this conversation when he had only gotten five hours of sleep...

’Only because you spent the rest of the night having sex with another man!’ he reminded himself.

He was also dealing with the repercussions of his own behavior and feelings about the night, and they were still on the run, probably with Serbian spies hot on their heels. This was not starting out to be a good day. At least he wasn't sexually frustrated on top of everything else.

’Thanks to the man sitting not 2 m from you, who is looking as if he expects to be murdered at any moment,’ his mind noted reasonably. He frowned. He had to say something. He had given his word that they would talk. Now he just needed to decide what to say.

"Lord Glor... Dorian," he began.

"Yes Major?" the Earl asked in a small voice.

He sighed. This was not going well. He was a man of action, not words.

"Dorian, I am not good with words. They have served me very little in my life. Always I have fared better with my fists and my gun. If you are looking for someone who can spout poetry and foppish bullshit, I am not the one for you."

"Oh Klaus..." he heard Dorian whisper.

"However, I will tell you this. Last night was not... casual sex for me. It did not... mean nothing to me."

Looking at Dorian he saw the other man was holding his hands over his heart, tears leaking out from the corners of his eyes, but he was radiating happiness.

"Oh Klaus. Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

He cleared his throat and continued. "You have been a... reliable and loyal friend to me. And I care for you a great deal. I... I would be unhappy if you were to disappear from my life."

He saw Dorian nod. "What would you like me to do, my darling?"

"I... I do not know. I don't know what is going to happen when we leave this flat, Dorian. For all we know Prescovich could have found us and we'll both be killed today..."

"Oh don't say that, Klaus, please!"

Klaus shrugged. Near death was a way of life for him and had been for over thirty years. "None of us knows anything, Dorian. We never know how much time we have. I learned years ago to live in the present and not worry about what comes next."

He paused and took a deep breath, getting his thoughts together. "So much has changed. Borders, countries, governments. And some things have stayed the same: my duty to NATO, my father's disappointment in me, my failure to my family by not producing an heir, my rank as an eternal Colonel thanks to my section chief's hatred of me. The only good things that have stayed are Z and you. And you love me."

He stopped, looking at his hands, at the table, the Spartan safe house. Dorian stayed silent, as if he knew he was not yet finished with his rare speech.

"Why? Why do you love me? I gave you no reason to love me, gave you no encouragement. I insulted you, physically hurt you, sent you into danger to get you away from me, but nothing I did made you go away."

He looked at the Earl, only now he knew that he was the one wearing the heartbroken look.

"I never understood what you saw in me. I was a cold, unfeeling, rude, violent man. And nothing has changed except now I am a cold, unfeeling, rude, violent, old man."

He spread his hands on the table.

"But you're here. Here with me. Why? What do you see in me? I've looked for it, Dorian, but I've never found it. All I see is a hard, cold-hearted man filled with more darkness than light. I've... I've become my father."

Dorian was weeping openly now, hands pressed to his mouth, shaking his head in denial.

"Oh Klaus... I want so badly to come to you. Will you let me, please?"

He gave a small nod and stood up as he heard the chair scrape against the wood floor, and the man he had come to equate with sunshine and roses was pressed against him. The strong hands were stroking his hair, and he could feel the heat emanating off the body as Dorian breathed in his ear.

"No, no Klaus. You're not cold or dark. You're warm and vibrant and there is so much good in you. Don't you know I could never love you as much as I do if you were truly all those things? And I do love you Klaus. I love you, and I will keep saying it until you believe me, and even then I won't stop."

Dorian grabbed his face and kissed him as if he was trying to convince him of his own self-worth by the force of his own will. He found himself kissing back, drawn in by the Earl's brightness.

"I love you, Klaus. Can you love me?"

"I...," he managed.

He heard Dorian sigh then he was enfolded into those slender arms that were so deceptively strong.

"I want to find the person who convinced you you were unworthy of love and strangle him if I could. I want to take you and love you until you are breathless and have no choice but to believe me that you are no less than the most wonderful man in the world."

He snorted, but let his forehead come to rest upon the Earl's narrow shoulder. "Dorian, please."

"But it's true!" the thief insisted, squeezing him. "It's all true. Every word of it! I love you, Klaus."

He was kissed again, deeply, thoroughly, with lips and teeth and tongue. He groaned, his body reacting to the kiss, and he gripped the Earl's arms in his large hands, holding on.

"Dorian," he choked when the man let him breathe.

"Mmm, if I could, I would draw you back to bed, but I don't think I can take you again," Dorian said with regret.

The quiet statement gave him pause and he looked at the blond. "Sore?"

Dorian nodded, "A bit, yes."

"Let me see."

It looked as if the Earl was going to protest, but he gave the man one of his stern 'I-will-not-be-reasoned-with' glares, and the thief gave in with a sigh of resignation. Turning around, he leaned on the table, pulling aside the robe and bending over so Klaus could see. Taking the round cheeks in his hands, he parted them slightly to inspect the swollen opening, pursing his lips in displeasure. The ring of muscle was red and inflamed, and the Earl gave a little hiss of pain when he used his thumb to gently look for rips and tears in the flesh.

"Hmmmmmm. Hmmmmmmm," he said, giving the area a very thorough check.

"Ah. I believe the term you are looking for, Major, is very well fucked," Dorian supplied for him.

He grunted, unhappy that he was the cause of the Earl's discomfort. "You are not injured or bleeding."

"I know that already. I checked. I'm fine, just sore."

He stepped back, letting the man stand up and cover himself. He stood with his arms chastely at his sides as the Earl turned to face him again. The blond smiled at him, almost adoringly, and placed a hand on his chest.

"I don't regret any of it, my darling."

"We should not have..." He paused, uncomfortable with the words.

Dorian smiled. "Oh yes we should have. I haven't been this well loved in years, and I've never felt as loved as I do right now. Never, Klaus. But then I knew you were the only one for me."

He snorted. "Why? I am not... cultured or refined. I prefer tanks to roses."

The Earl grinned. "I have come to appreciate the beauty of steel. And the beauty of a strong man. It's true you don't mince words and you wouldn't know a Monet from a Picasso, but I can forgive you those shortcomings. If you can forgive me mine."

Dorian offered his hand and Klaus took it, holding it tenderly in his much larger palm. He watched as the action made the Earl tremble and close his eyes.

"What?" he demanded.

"You don't know..." the thief began, opening his eyes slowly to look at him. "I have wanted this for so long." He stopped, taking a deep breath, then pressed on. "Years ago, Agent A spoke to me before he left your alphabet for that promotion. You remember him?"

He nodded that he did, wondering what pointless tangent the Earl was going off on now.

"Anyway, he pulled me aside one day and sat me down for a chat. I was very surprised at this needless to say, but what he told me was invaluable to me and I never forgot it."

A chill creeped up his spine. "What did he say?"

"He told me that I would never win you with the tactics that I was using. That if I wanted you, I had to speak to you in terms you understood, to... to prove my love not with overtures and declarations of love, but with the things that were most important to you. Things like trust and loyalty, fidelity and courage, honesty and honor. And so I set out to learn your language of love, one I knew very little about. It did not involve ennui and flowers, but espionage and guns," the Earl answered.

"A said all of that to you?"

"Yes. As I said, he shocked me utterly, but then I think he and Bonham..."

"A was a queer?!"

Dorian laughed. "Oh no, no, my dearest. A is quite straight. I was trying to say that he and Bonham are good friends, and I think Bonham told him he was worried that you'd kill me if I didn't stop coming on to you. So dear A took it upon himself to give me the key to your heart before my foolishness got me killed."

He stopped, thinking. A had indeed given Dorian the key to winning him. The single most pressing thing that had kept the Earl in his regard was his unwavering loyalty and devotion. Whenever Klaus had needed him, Dorian had been there. He performed flawlessly and professionally on every mission they were on together, taking the same risks and chances as Klaus himself. Once Dorian ceased the passes and foppish dithering, their working relationship had greatly improved, and so had Klaus’s feelings for him.

"But you told me you stopped making passes at me because it wasn't a game to you anymore," he stated, latching on to one little point of untruth.

"It wasn't. What I told you was true. I couldn't do it anymore, and before I got desperate, and even more stupid, A saw fit to set me straight."

Klaus smiled at the Earl's words. "You, Lord Gloria, have never been straight in your whole life."

Dorian giggled. "Well, no Major, that's true, but you know what I mean."

He took the moment of comfort between them to ask a question he had wanted to ask for years. "Why do you still call me Major. I've been promoted, you know."

"I know. But you'll always be my Major, no matter what rank you are. Even if you were made a General, you'd still be Major to me. That way, you're always young."

Dorian beamed up at him and he couldn't find any reason to tell him he was full of it, so he just smiled back.

"Are we done talking?" he asked.

The Earl frowned. "Have we decided what is going to happen between us when we leave this place?"

"No."

"Then I suppose we're not quite done talking."

He swallowed, nodding. "Dorian, this may take me some time..."

"I know. But I've waited this long for you, I can wait longer."

"That is not what I meant. This... thing between you and me, I've grown very used to it. I find that I... like having you in my life."

"And in your bed?" the Earl added hopefully.

Klaus’s body tingled as he recalled last night. "Yes. But," he added before the man could speak. "We must be discrete."

"Oh, absolutely, my love."

"Nothing must appear to have changed between us," he stressed.

"Except when we're alone," the thief corrected with a pout.

"Yes, except for that."

"I can do that. I can do that easily. You've seen what a wonderful actor I am."

The blond's grin was infectious and he smiled, wrapping arms around the slender body.

"But Dorian..."

"Yes, Klaus?"

"If we... do this... I... I am not a generous man. I do not share."

The Earl agreed, knowing what he meant. "I shall forsake all others. There shall be no one but you, my darling. You are all I have wanted for years anyway. But Klaus, if you want me to be faithful to you, you must not neglect me. I cannot go months and months without seeing you."

He blanched. "Dorian... sometimes my missions..."

"I'll come with you."

He bristled. "You'll do no such thing!"

"Oh yes I will. I follow you everywhere you go anyway, so you might as well just take me along. I should probably officially join NATO as one of your agents."

The thought scared the liver out of him. Dorian with a gun.

"You're too much of a klutz."

"I've managed to do all right so far," the Earl defended.

"Only because God looks out for fools."

Dorian huffed.

"Dorian. Dorian please listen to me. While there are missions where I will welcome your company, there are others where the danger will be so great that your presence will only make me worry for you, and I cannot afford to be worried when I am on a dangerous mission. Do you understand?"

The blue eyes glared at him. "So you want me to stay behind and pray that someone in your alphabet has the decency to call me and tell me when they find your body. No, Klaus, I cannot do that. Don't ask me to. I'd pine myself sick."

"Dorian..."

"No. And I will not be reasoned with. You won't have any trouble explaining me. I follow you everywhere even NATO knows that. I have lust and unrequited love for you and I'm always meddling in your missions. Your alphabet doesn't give me a second glance anymore. In fact it would be suspicious if I didn't show up," the Earl continued vehemently.

He sighed. He wanted to press his point, but he had no time. They need to get to get to Bonn.

"We will... discuss this further. Right now, you need to finish your breakfast and get dressed. We have to go."

The Earl stepped out of his arms and reached for the pastry, consuming it and washing it down with a gulp of coffee.

"You're not going to change my mind, y'know," the Earl stated matter-of-factly.

He did not answer. He'd lock Dorian up, or have him arrested or something if it came to that. Of course, Dorian would probably never forgive him. But at least he'd be alive...

"I'll have to borrow a shirt from you, of course. There's no way my shirt will be dry in time," he heard Dorian say, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Why not? Does it take longer to dry in the dryer than other things?"

The Earl gaped at him. "You... You put my Christian Dior shirt in the dryer??!!"

He blinked at the shocked man. "Errr..."

Dorian put one hand to his forehead. "Oh Major..."

"Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know it couldn't be dried? Only you would wear a frilly piece of red cloth on a mission of international espionage!"

He heard the Earl sigh. "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to know how to wash delicate things. Pray be more careful if you're ever washing me."

"Humph," he snorted and turned away, lighting another cigarette. "Wait here. I'll go get the laundry. Eat your yogurt."

"Major," Dorian called as he stepped into the hall.

"Yes?"

"If it's not dry, just bring it up."

"Yes, yes," he answered.

"And if it is dry, fold it neatly."

"Yes, yes," he said, tromping down the hall.

"Don't just scrunch it up, it'll wrinkle!"

"Yes, yes, I get it."

"Major?"

"What now?!" he barked.

"I love you."

He turned to see the Earl standing in the doorway, robe half-open, curls in disarray. In a word, he was gorgeous. He smiled, then chomped on his cigarette.

"Get inside you exhibitionist or I'll arrest you for indecent exposure!"

Dorian grinned lewdly and showed his leg. "I didn't think that sort of thing fell under your jurisdiction, Major."

He growled menacingly. Dorian gave a squeak and skittered back into the flat, slamming the door behind him. Klaus just laughed. Then his smile faded and he stared at the closed door. What was he getting into? He must be crazy to... to begin a relationship with that queer. It was irresponsible, insane and went against everything his Catholic upbringing taught him.

’But you're an atheist,’ he reminded himself. That was true, and priests had never done much for him anyway. Not like Dorian, who'd followed him into Hell and back. The priests always sighed when he confessed his sins, and he knew what they thought of him. He'd stopped going to confession years ago, convinced that the Church held no solace for him anymore. It was empty comfort now.

His piety had not bought him his father's love, or the love of a wife or an heir. It did not warm his heart or his bed, or comfort him when he was feeling more monster than man. All it offered was a promise of something better after his suffering on Earth, and even then only if he received Last Rites. How many NATO agents died with Last Rites? Only those cowardly enough or old enough to die of natural causes. Colonel Klaus Hienz von dem Eberbach was no coward, and at this rate his chances of dying a natural death were slim, unless...

’Unless you had a reason to live. To stop taking dangerous chances and too many risks,’ he chided himself.

Twenty-four hours ago, he would not have given a dangerous mission a second thought, but now... Now he saw Dorian's stricken face in his mind. If anything happened to him, Dorian would be utterly heartbroken.

’No. He'd probably die with you. Running head first into danger after you.’

The thought froze him from the inside. Dorian probably would run into danger right after him, unwilling to leave his side. Such loyalty, while admirable, was suicide.

’He'd do it because he loves me, because he wouldn't let me die alone.’

He bowed his head and walked towards the stairwell that headed down to the laundrette.

Dorian was loyal, trustworthy (in most cases) and utterly devoted to him. At fifty, his prospects of finding a wife were close to nil, and even then she'd probably only marry him for his name and title. Maybe she would give him an heir but would he make a better father than his own father had been? There had been no love in his father. It seemed that all of it died with the mother he barely remembered. He knew what growing up without love was like, and now he that knew what it was like to be loved; loved for himself, not his title, or his money or his rank, he found that he did not want to give that up.

Last night had been... nice, and not just the physical aspects of things. Afterwards Dorian had held him, spoken softly to him, made him feel cherished and appreciated. Waking up with Dorian in his arms had been much more pleasant than his usual cold, solitary bed, and he'd been alone for so long.

’You could do worse than Dorian, who loves you utterly. You could be saddled with a shrew who hates you and makes your life hell with her bitching and complaining.’

Twenty-five years had gone, and Dorian was proving to him that true love really could last lifetimes. Maybe it wasn't too late to let love into his life, in no matter what form it came in. Dorian would tell him it wasn't, that it was never too late. Maybe he'd believe him.

Crushing out his cigarette and tossing it in the laundrette waste bin, he thrust his thoughts aside. All of that would have to wait. Now was the time for duty and getting them both to safety. All else had to be put aside until later.

’If there is a later.’ No, there would be a later. He would make sure of it. He and Dorian would have many laters; many many laters.

Gathering up the clothes from the dryer, he neatly folded the red shirt, feeling only slightly guilty about drying it, and carried them up to the flat.