Tried being a key word, especially that morning.

One look at Dorian's still sleeping, dishevelled body sprawled across the bed, and Klaus had given it up for a lost cause before he'd even tried to roll the man out of the sheets. On other occasions he'd dumped Dorian soundly onto the floor, but not today -- today was too good and relaxing a day to start off that way.

It gave Klaus a chance to take in his room and note to himself everything that had changed in the past year. To begin with, if his men suspected that he'd finally given in to the Earl, they were wisely tight-lipped. Alaska was always an option, though Klaus liked to think they didn't mention it because they either hadn't noticed or that they were discreet.

He realised that he savoured Dorian, for body, mind and heart, for his childish playfulness at times, yet an ability to be serious in the right moments, an appreciation of quiet when it was needed... and his ability to put up with Klaus. Dorian was the only human being who'd ever attracted Klaus, truly drawn him in, and Klaus could appreciate Dorian for more than his draw. Klaus could appreciate the thief for his ability to not be repulsed by his own warlike personality.

And in turn, he was changing, bit by bit, to accommodate the thief. He admitted that Dorian's often showy wardrobe was for effect, and knew that it worked -- Dorian knew how to dress to make himself noticed and pretty. Klaus just didn't like having other men notice that Dorian was pretty. Thankfully on missions he could run them off under the guise of 'Only needing one god-damned pervert around!'

Klaus also admitted that Dorian's presence had a tempering effect on him -- his rages calmed quicker, even though they didn't stop, and he was tending to be a bit more diplomatic. Hell, he was even trying to understand art-work.

After dressing in an undershirt and a pair of trousers, boots quickly laced, he settled into the chair at his desk to smoke and watch Dorian sleep. /He said I was beautiful when I sleep. *He* certainly is.../ But Dorian didn't look like an angel -- oh no, no innocent angel would sleep with such a smile on his lips. A fallen angel, or a beautiful demon in his bed, perhaps, but not an angel! Still, it didn't matter. The owner of that lavacious smile was as completely his as he was Dorian's. /And 's just how I want it to be./

The night before had certainly been a pleasure, that fact was clear enough in Klaus' mind as he lit a cigarette and drew in the first breath. He was half hoping that the smoke would wake Dorian up; too much time alone left him to think, and as relaxed as he was in that moment, thinking was something he completely didn't desire.

Next year, unless he was on mission, the entire family would be gathering in the Schloss. Nasty confrontations and bristling tempers all around; there wasn't a need to tell Dorian of that, yet, though. He'd let it slip his mind. He might even try to talk Dorian into having both of them spend the Holiday in London to avoid it. So it would be shrugging off familial duty; so what! He was doing it in the long-run, anyway.

A few more breaths of smoke, lingering hazily around him in the closed room, as he let his gaze drift. He already put up both of their tuxedoes, folded neatly and put out for the help to have cleaned and pressed. There was still more to look at in his room, now, then there'd been six months ago. Dorian's men hadn't been exactly happy that Dorian spent so much time at the Schloss, but he'd been taken aside by Bohnam and told by the little man that everyone was happy that the Earl was happy.

So, things were working out after all.

Just as Dorian had known they would. He'd wisely never said anything, to Klaus or anyone else, that was in the least bit an 'I told you so'. But there were times that the smile that was his constant companion in life turned from reflective to deeply satisfied and secretive, and it screamed louder than words ever could how very pleased Dorian was with the way things had turned out.

Now was such a time. That smile was the first clue Klaus had that the blonde imp on the bed was awake, and probably had been for some time. His eyes were closed, and his chest still rose and fell evenly, but that smile... It wouldn't be the first time Dorian had pretended sleep to give Klaus opportunity to simply watch him, as he knew the man loved to do but would feel uncomfortable indulging himself were Dorian staring back.

When Dorian stared back, Klaus tended to find reasons to be elsewhere or not looking at all.

It had taken Klaus a while to recognise that sign in Dorian, though, that satisfied and almost smug curl of inviting lips... he rose smoothly from his chair, cigarette in hand, and brushed a smoky kiss over the thief's lips. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

If his intent had been to get Dorian to join him in starting the day, the thief had other ideas. Those lips, that smile had been the bait for a very clever trap, and Klaus soon found a pair of slender but strong arms twined around his neck. "Don' wanna. You come back t' bed..."

"It's already eleven, Dorian -- if you sleep in anymore, you'll become part of the mattress," Klaus told him, pulling back with those slender arms still around his neck. "Come along."

Incrementally Dorian was drug across the bed, slowly loosing the twisted sheets -- silk, at his insistence -- that covered his nakedness. Tenacious, of course he wouldn't simply let go, but he did protest with a little growl. "Won' be sleeping..."

"I know you have good endurance, Dorian, but you'll want to save your energy for this evening," he drawled, taking another step backwards that completely yanked his nude lover from the bed.

The growl turned sharply to a whimper, as Dorian finally let go. The trip to the floor was more slip than fall, and somehow he managed to take a portion of the bedclothes with him, where he immediately rolled to cocoon himself again. The floor wasn't so bad -- goodness knows they 'd ended up there a few times when the bed had proven too small to hold their vigorous lovemaking, and so long as he remained naked and sweetly sleep-mussed, he still had a chance of seducing Klaus.

"We can take a nap later." Oh, damn. His speech was clearing itself as his brain did a little morning housecleaning. No use in pretending he was anything other than fully awake now. "Please, Klaus? Just some quick fun...?"

Sometimes, denying Dorian was just as fun as giving in. And the treacherous smile on Klaus' lips was nearly screaming that knowledge as he stooped to pick up with ease the cocoon Dorian had made of himself, moving quickly to deposit his lover in the bathroom. "I'll toss you clothes when you've washed!"

A pout stole over Dorian's face as the bathroom door closed none too gently behind him. Well, two could play at that game! He would simply... not wash.

Or so his initial plan had been. But soon he realised just how cold the room's tile floor was, and how hard, and he *was* sticky and sweaty from the previous night... A minor shift in plans, then, the goal now to see how long he could drag out a nice, soaking bath.

And, should the opportunity present itself, how to get Klaus to join him.

But Klaus was made of better, stronger stuff, smugly having changed the bedding while Dorian was gone -- which was easy since the man had taken most of it with him -- and then perched in his chair again, smoking.

The chair, he was realising, was fairly uncomfortable due to the activities of the evening before. Then again, that kind of discomfort was something to savour, a reminder of his link with Dorian. Some day, he'd make the thief understand, even if not by demonstration, that a little pain could be a good thing.

It was almost a battle between the famed unstoppable force and immovable object, their game of each waiting for the other; but in the end, Klaus won.

In a way, though he lost again the very moment he laid eyes on his damp lover striding out of the bathroom door completely naked.

He was pretending to be engrossed in pulling a comb through his impossible hair, but that was again show for Klaus' benefit. If he appeared distracted, Klaus was more likely to look, and that he was expecting Klaus to look and look hard was obvious by the particular little twitch he put into his stride, his hips rocking sensuously with every step.

Across the room, the dresser was his goal, but his path took him within easy reach of Klaus, just in case...

Just in case he was absolutely right in his assumptions and ended up snagged by his lover, pulled down into the man's lap to be kissed roughly. Sometimes Klaus was so predictable and easy to play that that it was laughable!

"You're a devil."

"I'm your devil," Dorian corrected, wriggling himself into a more comfortable sprawl in Klaus' lap, his head reeling a little from the intensity of the kiss. He wondered if 'cute' or 'sultry' would be the better approach in earning him more. "Aren't you lucky?"

"Maybe." Klaus shifted a little, almost slumping in the chair to better shift Dorian's weight so they could *both* be more comfortable. "Are you awake enough to go downstairs and try to dance for a while?"

"Awake enough for other things, too..." Cute it was -- probably less likely to work, but he *had* gone to the trouble of cleaning. It would be a shame to get all sweaty again. He kissed lightly at Klaus' jaw, murmuring, "And don't I get breakfast first?"

"It's nearly lunch-time," Klaus reminded him, trying to not shudder. But it was so hard to hide the reactions that Dorian dragged out of him with such damnable ease. A careful twist and Klaus was the one kissing Dorian's jaw, up near his ear. Then a rough whisper of, "Get dressed. We'll eat, dance, and open presents early. And then we'll see how much time we have before dinner..." A hint of a promise, just in case dancing with the other man didn't degrade into something that would scare the servants.

It was Dorian's turn to shudder lightly, a soft 'ohhh' slipping from his lips. "Dinner... Forgot 'bout that." All Klaus had told him was that they had reservations at 'someplace you would like' and to dress nicely. And a week of pestering hadn't been able to drag more delicious details out of the stubborn German!

"Presents too?" And dancing, and best of all was the almost-promise that Dorian would make certain Klaus adhered to! "You're trying your best to make this the perfect day."

"I think you deserve it for putting up with me for a year," Klaus murmured, pressing a nipping kiss against Dorian's collar-bone. "Now, dress."

"Help me?" Dorian wiggled his toes invitingly. "For dinner, or will we change later?"

"Knowing you, we'll change later," Klaus uttered, shifting his muscled form again against Dorian's, getting them both upright and standing. "I need to find a shirt." And not a button-down one. He didn't want even the *thought* of work or duty slipping into his mind. No shirtsleeves and tie today.

But the undershirt... If Dorian hadn't seen with his own eyes on several occasions Klaus without an undershirt, he would have thought it a permanent part of the man! Somewhere in the course of the year he'd broken his lover of the troublesome habit of wearing one to bed, though he secretly suspected Klaus still did when they were apart.

The blonde man had been abandoned, not dripping quite so much anymore but still quite naked, in the middle of the bedroom floor. A sigh, and he retrieved his comb and began to give actual thought to getting dressed. Perhaps it was best that Klaus was so focused, about as difficult to derail from plans as a train, because if he gave in to every flirtatious offer Dorian put before him, the pair would never leave the bed!

Trying to not be aware of Dorian's motions in the middle of the room, Klaus dug through his dresser and pulled out a sweater, deemed it suitable, and then slid it on.

Despite being blue, it was navy. And Klaus was wearing black trousers. Looking at Klaus' three shades of clothes -- grey-black, brown and blue -- nearly every single day was making Dorian determined to try to coax the German man into going shopping with him, even if it was just once, to get something in a different colour.

But that was what Christmas presents were for, wasn't it? And a present was likely to be worn, even if it clashed with Klaus' tastes, for fear of hurting the feelings of the giver.

Well, coordinating with Klaus was never a problem at least... Dorian knew his wardrobe so intimately that clothes were chosen in his mind before the closet doors were pulled open, so that it seemed he chose things at random, tossing them onto the bed. Red and white seemed to be the day's theme.

"Are you going to tell me yet where we're going for dinner? Or do you plan to truss and blindfold me for the journey?"

"I might. Would you like that?" It was surreal, sometimes, when Klaus returned Dorian's little prodding jokes; but at least it felt genuine -- far more genuine than some of the displays of anger he put out for his alphabet's sake. "I'll tell you when we get there, all right?"

"I'll be able to guess by our route," Dorian bragged. Not idly, as in the year he'd been with Klaus he'd taken the opportunity to explore thoroughly the best night life in Bonn. In Dorian's presence, Klaus had visited more restaurants and theatres and, occasionally, clubs than he had in a lifetime spent within ten miles of the town. "Perhaps it would be best if you did, if you want it to remain a surprise..."

"Then I will," Klaus decided at last, folding his arms over his chest as he watched Dorian wiggle into his tight pants. Funny how, even with both of them equally perverted in Klaus' eyes, they still looked the same -- he didn't look faggy at all, and Dorian certainly hadn't straightened out. Funny how his worst (and silliest) fear of facing the facts of who he wanted to be with hadn't come true.

But that had been one of the unspoken points agreed to at the tenuous beginning of their relationship. Acceptance, without the need to change each other. In that regard Dorian had proven generously adaptive and compromising, though it surprised him still when Klaus returned the same courtesy.

"Will you...?" Another surprise. He'd guessed that the suggestion would hold appeal for the German, but he didn't think the man would actually take him up on the offer! "I might not want to be trussed. I might struggle."

"I'll tie you carefully, then. Something that won't chafe too much." Klaus spoke with a dangerous glint dancing in his eyes, half-smoked cigarette dangling in his lips as he watched Dorian tug a shirt on, too. Sometimes, Dorian had to wonder how many of the games they sometimes played in bed were odd things left over from missions.

When the Earl was dressed at last, though, Klausí smile was less a danger and more and an invitation as he moved forwards to open the door for Dorian. "You first."

It was a fight Dorian had never won, when Klaus set his mind on offering that particular courtesy. No matter how many times he insisted that rules were different for lovers who happened to be men, the German still clung to some of the social manners that had been drilled into him since childhood.

So Dorian walked through doors first, and rolled his eyes and sighed deeply when Klaus held his chair at dinner, and secretly adored the attention even though he was always thwarted in his attempts to return the same courtesies.

But they walked side by side down the hall-way, and the stair-way to downstairs, Klaus smiling to himself in an almost suspicious way. "You go ahead to the kitchen -- I'm going to hook up the record player. Any music you want in particular?"

"As a matter of fact..." Dorian's steps slowed at the junction of hallways where their paths would split, if Klaus was stopping by the library. "Something lively -- festive. And slip a few slow ones in, will you?" One blue eye winked mischievously, guessing that Klaus had already intended to do so. "Any requests for breakfa- er, lunch?" Truthfully more of a brunch, but as Klaus didn't approve of those...

"Food," Klaus answered truthfully. "We might as well request breakfast. I won't take long; I just need to get music from the library and slip into the Hall..."

"You're impossible," Dorian announced, pressing quickly close for a peck, lingering as he pulled away.

/If Klaus had his way,/ Dorian mused in route to the kitchen, /he'd let Dominic feed him eggs and sausage for breakfast every day./ Eggs and sausage, sausage and eggs... It had taken no small effort of wheedling and cajoling to convince those two that other, more interesting things existed!

Things such as crepes, which he'd tried to teach Dominic to make, but his own attempts were so disastrous, and the student so quickly surpassed the teacher that Dorian suspected he'd taken outside instruction. Crepes sounded delicious this morning -- yes. With a nice fruit compote, and-

"Oh, bloody hell! What is HE doing here?"

"Dominic!" Dorian hissed, grabbing the butler by the lapel and dragging him out of the kitchen and around the corner. "Does Klaus know about this?"

"Well, Lord Gloria, Schloss Eberbach may be entrusted to the Master's care, but his father..." Owns it, and that was an unspoken in the poor butler's eyes. "It's the holidays, Lord Gloria..."

"Just precisely why it's not the time for-" Dorian followed the butler's gaze, not down to the hands still offensively clutching the front of his uniform, but over Dorian's shoulder, to the doorway.

"Lord Gloria."

Heinz looked older than Dorian remembered, still as straight but needing more effort to remain so. In his eyes flashed a sentiment similar to the one Dorian had blurted, restrained by a facade of self-superior civility.

"What... what would you and the Master want for breakfast?" Dominic offered haltingly, aware that there would soon be a shouting match, or worse.

"Crepes, please," Dorian uttered, not tearing his eyes off the elder Eberbach.

"Y-yes!' and with that, the butler bowed out of a fight that was, as of this moment, not his.

"What are you doing here?" Dorian demanded crisply of the man.

The obvious answer -- the one Dominic had given, that it *was* still his house -- was not the one Heinz gave. "Isn't it a little late for breakfast?" he asked flatly, his eyes hard and boring into Dorian's.

Some nerve this Lord Gloria had! First corrupting his son, and then staying on to further the damage, sleeping in his house (he didn't care to think about the details of that!), ordering the butler as if he were his own staff...

"We just woke up," Dorian said unrepentantly, taking a step towards the man. "You've hurt Klaus enough -- go back to Switzerland or wherever it is that you've been skulking!"

"At least I haven't twisted him irreparably," Heinz retorted, holding his ground. Dorian would have to go through him to get into the kitchen, and it would about take a tank to budge the old man.

"I've never twisted Klaus -- I love him; which is a hell of a lot more than you ever did for him!" Oh, the Englishman was furious -- that the elder Eberbach even had the nerve to show up!! Today, of all days!

At his side Heinz's hand clenched, warning Dorian that had it been Klaus speaking so disrespectfully to him, blows would have already flown. "You ruined him, subverted his life... Oh, don't think I don't know your reputation, Gloria! If you'd never pranced into his world, my son would have been content following his dutiful path."

"Your son was miserable with his life! can't you see you've hurt him just in the way you make made him act?!"

"Dorian, Why is there..." Shouting, he'd wanted to ask. He'd just been in the hall, setting up the music, ready for once breakfast was eaten... And now he stopped short, looking at his father's mostly un-changed, familiar figure.

Why today?!

"Sir."

As soon as Klaus was in the picture, Dorian became a non-entity again. Heinz had an aristocrat's skill for ignoring problems in the hopes that they would simply go away.

"Klaus."

Nothing further. A year he'd had to consider and smoulder and delude himself. A year Dominic had slowly worked on him, built a painstaking argument for why he should return this year. A year for Heinz to realize that he was too old and tired, and that another chance at raising up a proper son was impossible.

Yet strangely, now it was Klaus who pinned him with a smouldering gaze for a moment, before looking past him, to the man he had blocked into the little hall off the kitchen. "Dorian, the hall? Everything is ready." There was a note to his voice, as he looked firmly at and into Dorian's familiar blue eyes, that hadn't been there since a year -- angry and minutely bitter-edged.

Which meant no crepes. No coffee, even. Dorian nodded unhappily, though did flaunt a kiss to Klaus' cheek, while Heinz's eyes grew harder still and brittle, and he made a great effort of not looking. "The hall. Don't keep me waiting long, Darling."

"No more than a moment," Klaus promised in a quiet simmer of voice, transferring his gaze to his father, green eyes hardening. "Sir. I believed you wanted nothing to do with me." Not a question, or even a hope in his voice -- just a flat, hard statement.

"You believe correctly." Twin spots of colour had appeared high on Heinz' cheeks. Not anger -- his entire face flushed a violent red when he was furious. Could he have actually been embarrassed by Dorian's little display of affection?

"Then good-day to you, sir," Klaus said stiffly, inclining his head a mere fraction. Then he started to turn away, pausing for a moment to scout the kitchen for something... an apple. Apples to be precise, in a small bowl. He grabbed two after crossing past his father.

Only to find his return path blocked, as Heinz had entered the room after him.

"Klaus..." Another try, though still he couldn't make anything else come. A whole year he'd had to consider their parting, and the things that had bothered him so about it, and to gather the grace it took to admit that on some things he'd been wrong.

Wrong, damn it. He wouldn't be here, attempting in his own hopeless way to make amends if he hadn't admitted that to himself. Admitting it to Klaus was, however, another matter entirely, especially with the boy flaunting his flashy lover and his insolent disobedience.

Now if only he could admit that he son was a grown man and no longer a boy.

Klaus stood still for a moment, apples in hand, giving his father a flat gaze. Why couldn't the old man just leave him the hell alone? He'd thought he'd battered down his demons on this matter, only to find them breeding when he least wanted to deal with that... "Allow me to leave, sir."

"Klaus." This last time he knew he would succeed, could feel the word finally bubbling to the surface. "Is it true, what he said? You're happy to let him corrupt you, to dirty your soul?"

He could see, clearly, his son's jaw twitch with a hard clench. Did the man expect him to lie...? "Yes." But he killed so often in the line of duty, did he even have a soul anymore to dirty?

"And you weren't happy before, to fulfill your duties like a good son, to uphold the family name..." Heinz's eyes tightened around the edges, the hardness in them strained near breaking. Klaus *had* been a good son. In so many ways he'd made Heinz proud, that pride only discovered when it had turned to something that stung shamefully instead.

"I still complete the majority of my duties, and have done nothing against the family name, sir," Klaus said stiffly, moving a step forward, slightly angled to move past his father first opportunity he had. "I you wish nothing more to do with me, leave me alone. I have a schedule today and I do not want to deviate from it."

A schedule which clearly included lounging in bed till near noon with that fop of an Earl! That thought was at once infuriating and frightening; it courted his anger at the same time he shied violently from its implications. "Are you happy living this... this perverted lifestyle?" Heinz pressed in a low, dry voice, sidling a little to match Klaus' angle. "You know people will talk -- I'm certain that were I not your father I would have already heard rumours... The family name is as good as ruined."

"I'm known as a homophobe and a dangerous man -- no-one will say anything," Klaus snapped sharply, shifting again to get past the man. "We finished this discussion last year. Leave me be."

"ARE YOU HAPPY?" Heinz demanded again, frustrated and angered for being ignored.

"I was until you showed up!" Klaus snapped at his father, and then at last shouldered past the man, storming down the corridor that would take him to the hall. Why today? Out of all the days of the year he could have shown up, why then...

His father's eyes followed him tangibly, all the way down the hall, until Klaus turned a corner.

"He is completely uncooperative and unrepentant," the man spoke, wearily, to the butler who was one of his oldest acquaintances. "Not at all what you'd suggested I could expect in coming here."

"I... never suggested he would repent for it. And the Young Master has been in an exceptionally good mood all week. I believe..." Dominic paused a moment, weighing the chances of an outburst. "I believe today is the date marking a year for he and Lord Gloria."

Good mood. Happy. Those words stung, for more than the thought of what -- or who -- had been the cause of Klaus' cheer. "He is completely impossible," Heinz continued forcefully, shoving speech out past a nearly unbearable tightness in his chest. "What makes him think he has the right to happiness? If he couldn't find it in the satisfaction of performing his duties, how does he dare to look for it elsewhere?"

"I cannot say, sir," Dominic sighed, moving to start his duties for the day. Lord Gloria would request tea, and want it promptly... "I can say, however, that Lord Gloria has been a tempering factor on him this past year. The usual... difficulties of temper after he comes back from duty have all but faded."

"The ruin of a noble family is a very great price to pay for a little peace." Back at the kitchen table Heinz sat, giving an uncharacteristic display of defeat in burying his face in his hands.

And there was really no comfort that the butler could give the elder Eberbach.

~~~~~~

The hall door swung open quickly, slamming open under the force of Klaus' simmering anger. Not directed at the person he found within the hall, no. Not anger at Dorian, anger at himself, and his father. His father for making a mess of things again...

"I brought you an apple."

Which Dorian took from his hand gratefully. A touch of lingering fingers asked a barrage of questions, all concerning Klaus' comfort and mood, and what Dorian could do to improve upon those. "I was rather hoping for crepes..." That was said teasingly, with an understanding smile.

It relaxed Klaus minutely, as he closed the hall door behind him. The only light was the tree, plugged in again. Dorian must have done it, but he appreciated it; it was more comfortable than to have the full sets of lights on. "I'm sorry," he uttered after taking a quick bite of his own apple. "I didn't expect him to come at all this year."

"What will you do?" Dorian asked, knowing talking through a problem often helped Klaus to relax, especially if the blonde could dismiss some of his fears over it as inconsequential.

"Avoid him," Klaus said decisively after taking another bite. One more, and he walked over to the record player to glance over the records he'd picked up. Both he and Dorian recognised it as something he could do instead of pacing, something to give a little outlet of action for his mind. "I can't do anything else."

Rubbing his own apple on his shirt out of habit, to polish it, Dorian finally took a bite. There was a snap and crunch of teeth biting the fruit's flesh, and he chewed thoughtfully. "You want to throw him out of the house," he observed, rubbing some juice from his chin.

"Ja. I can't, though. 's his house." Which pissed him off more than a little, to be so immobile in the situation, but he had no choice. "Slow music?"

"Yes." Several more bites in quick succession, hoping to finish off most of his meagre breakfast before Klaus got the music started. Slow was perfect. The sort of reassurance and calming he wanted to administer was best done so through a lot of touch.

Klaus slipped the Brahms record free of its slip, and with careful fingers, what was left of his apple held between his teeth, placed it down on the turn-table. Then he stopped for a moment to finish eating, tossed the core towards the tiny, discreet trash-container half hidden beside the tree, and put the needle in place. "I'm sure Dominic will still make tea, so you won't starve Dorian."

"He is a dear, isn't he?" the blonde agreed. "Always takes such good care of us." Secretly, Dorian suspected that Dominic was pleased to have someone who appreciated his pampering. If Klaus ever had, he would never have admitted it! But Dorian made a great show over the butler's pains to provide a smooth-running house, and in return for the honest compliments it seemed that Dominic was forever doing little extra things to please the Earl. It was, Klaus was coming to realise, Dorian's way of managing people. Kind words and praise seemed to get him just as far as Klaus' threats and blustering ever had.

Probably even farther, and Klaus was after so long willing to admit that. It was simply a matter of different styles of approaching a problem. It was why Klaus was an agent, and Dorian an 'art collector'.

They'd danced together a few times since the last Christmas ball, often jokingly, often seriously. Somehow it was easier than dancing with anyone else had ever been -- probably from their nearly equal height and stride length. And Dorian fit so perfectly against him that Klaus would take any excuse sometimes to both savour his presence and show off, just a little, a few of the better things he'd learned in his up-bringing.

"Yes, he does," Klaus murmured, moving towards Dorian as the music started up. The attempt at lightness that came next was strained but well meant. "Care to dance?"

Dorian's mostly-finished apple was discarded with a laugh, and he slid into Klaus' arms with all the rightness of a key snugging into its lock. "Of course, Darling. When have I ever refused the chance to be in your arms?"

"I don't think ever," Klaus replied truthfully, sliding a hand down Dorian's back. The motion was calming for him, so he stroked up, then back down again before he started slow, smooth steps in time to the music. "I'm glad of that."

"I'm glad you finally let me. It was maddening, all those times I wanted to so badly, but had to pass for fear you'd yell at me for even the suggestion." Then there had been the occasional time he'd actually gotten into Klaus' arms through the odd circumstance of missions. While not precisely willing, he'd since realised that Klaus had been unwilling for the sake of appearance more than anything else.

He had been known, and still was, as a violently homophobic -- and it was something that he had to act as time passed, despite finding Dorian a good person, worth not begrudging a touch... Since he'd admitted it to himself, it was now especially hard to know what to do when Dorian ended up in his arms during missions -- act on it, or put *on* an act?

"Now you don't have to worry."

"Such a relief, too!" Dorian was doing it again, wearing one of those deeply satisfied smiles. "Now, if all those other pesky problems would only go away as easily!" One, which Dorian had considered closed, had had the impertinence to show back up unexpectedly, and was even now simmering in the kitchen. "Will you really just ignore your father?"

"I'll avoid him," Klaus clarified. "The old man won't stand for being ignored when he can see you."

The dance was slow, soothing, and Klaus so nice to lean into with the draw of the music. But Dorian found himself unable to let go completely of his surroundings and simply enjoy it. Heniz's presence certainly hadn't left Klaus' mind, and his partner's distraction couldn't leave Dorian's. "Why did he come anyway, I wonder..."

"Could you just... drop that topic, Dorian," Klaus murmured, tone well controlled as he stroked his hand along Dorian's back. "'m trying to relax."

"I will if you can." It was no good pretending he wasn't thinking about it when Klaus so clearly was!

"I have dropped the topic," Klaus told him, steps still smooth, trying to coax Dorian into relaxing again.

He succeeding in getting Dorian to match the dance's graceful sway, but it felt automatic, without the blonde's usual flair of enjoyment. "Then look at me, Klaus, instead of looking at some vague point over my shoulder!"

"I'm looking at you," Klaus gritted out, as he *did* turn his gaze toward Dorian, a look that was completely unhappy and simmering with anger beneath the unhappiness.

"I can't relax when you aren't," Dorian told him stiffly. "And I can see now that you won't be relaxed at all with your father under this roof. I won't have him spoiling our Christmas."

"Then we'll go to my apartment in Bonn," Klaus murmured, pulling back from Dorian to better look him in the eye. Some day, he just couldn't assess the man at all when he was so close, stiff and almost angry or not.

"Run away, you mean." It wouldn't be the same in Bonn. The tree was here, painstakingly decorated, which he'd been so looking forward to sharing with Klaus as they opened presents beneath its twinkling height. Their bedroom was here. The little apartment in town Dorian had been to perhaps a half-dozen times, and never to stay. It was stark and spartan, and hadn't any of the personal, homey touches Dorian had added to his and Klaus' private space at the Schloss. "I don't like the apartment. I want to stay here."

"Then we will stay here," Klaus said, *trying* his damndest to be agreeable. "But I cannot run him out of the house. It is *his* house."

If Klaus were at all an agreeable sort of person, he would have seen already other ways to manage what he wanted to accomplish. "You don't have to run him out," Dorian pointed out reasonably, rearranging his hand within Klaus' grip in preparation for a coming spin. "If you would only talk to him, find out what he wants... You might convince him to leave on his own."

Perfect execution of the spin, and Dorian was pulled close to Klaus again. What could he do...? Argue with his lover over something that Dorian just *couldn't* understand... "There is no reasoning with him."

But close, Klaus could see the crease marring his lover's pretty brow. It wasn't a scowl -- Dorian never went to the trouble to screw his face up into so much visible displeasure -- but there was a hint of a pout to his lips. "There are plenty who would say the same of you."

Klaus did scowl now, not bothering with any other moves -- just keeping Dorian close. "Would you say that?"

"Of course not." If that were indeed the case, the present conversation would have already ended, likely with Dorian's eardrums ringing and perhaps a spot of stinging red on his cheek.

"What would you have me do?" Klaus asked at last, stopping completely but not letting Dorian go yet. "I offer to go to Bonn where we could be relaxed, and you do not want that. I don't, either, but here... *he* is here."

Dorian pulled back a little, seeking enough distance to make looking at Klaus less the dizzying thing it was up close. "Talk to him, Darling. That he's here at all... Doesn't it seem like he's at least trying to make amends? If not, and he's really here to make trouble instead, then tell him off! You're a grown man, far too old to fret every time your father looks askance at you"

It was obvious that Klaus bit back a sharp-tongued comment immediately on the heels of Dorian's last words, and was silent for a moment before he said, "Fine. I will try to talk to him." Green-grey eyes met him fully, almost pleading to *not* have to relive the conversation he and his father had had a year ago. "But for now..."

A soft knock on the door. "Lord Gloria? Tea is ready, if you wish to have it."

Sometimes, Dorian adored Dominic as much for his sense of timing as for the delicious scones he made. Sometimes exceedingly bad, as it had been that morning almost an exact year ago, and sometimes perfect, as now -- it was always dramatic.

"Yes, please," came the call from inside the hall, Dorian pulling himself further away but not completely out of Klaus' arms. What he'd said to the man had been cruel, and no doubt Klaus' readied answer was just as sharp, but sometimes a little goading was as much a sign of love as kind words and softness.

That knowledge didn't help ease his guilt any, or his heavy heart at having gotten Klaus angry at him.

"I'll serve tea in the parlour, then. Would... you like Master Eberbach to attend, or should I not tell him?" As if there was any chance he didn't know...

Klaus was stiffly quiet for a moment -- oh, the *parlour*. No, that brought up enough memories as it was, without the man needing to be there in the flesh. "No," Klaus said firmly. "Tea will just be Lord Gloria and I."

Dorian frowned a little at that, though in the end he decided it was for the best that Heinz did not join them. Not for the same reasons as Klaus had in excluding him, though. Dorian wanted to have more time to work on his lover, relaxing him and getting him used to the idea of a talk with his father. From experience he'd knew it wouldn't go smoothly -- Dorian's own such talks with his mother always ended in yelling matches, but an attempt was at least something Klaus owed to both Eberbachs.

At least if he attempted Dorian would know that he reached his hand out to the other man, even if it was shunned. What Dorian didn't know was that Klaus had tried that once, on the front steps on the Schloss nearly a year ago. He hadn't experienced the man's blinding unwillingness to understand in anything other than terms of black and white.

Though he had experienced Klaus', and that was almost enough.

The German man pulled back a little. "I'll turn off the record."

His lover followed him in the task, not wishing to leave the hall ahead and face a long walk to the parlour in solitude when he could share it with Klaus. "Might we come back for some more dancing after we're finished?"

"I'd like to," Klaus told him, taking the needle off but not removing the record. He just turned the player off, then stood up again. "When I do this, and it doesn't work, Dorian, will you let it rest?"

"Of course. Trying is all that I can possibly ask of you." When he was finished at the player, Dorian linked his arm through the other man's, and gave him a bolstering smile. "And you make me proud for trying."

"You're frustrating, Dorian," Klaus sighed, getting a little boost from that smile but not enough as he walked with Dorian to the door, and then out. "'s not how I expected today to go. I should have expected, 'course, that it wouldn't go right, since my missions are never so flawless."

"Frustrating, am I?" The sigh made Dorian reach up a little, kissing Klaus gently on the cheek. "There. And if that doesn't change your opinion of me, I shall smother you with more of the same." His hand inched down, seeking Klaus' and eager for the contact of skin to skin. Their fingers wove together comfortably.

Comfort that Klaus needed, but would not admit to needing. Ever, probably, and certainly not now. "Is that a threat, Dorian...?" There -- Klaus was almost teasing him. That could only be a good sign...

Archly, the thief responded, "Try me, and find out why don't you?" He was almost hoping Klaus did.

You're still frustrating," Klaus assured him smugly as they entered the parlour. On the table in the room, there was the tea-setting placed out, just as Dorian liked it, and the small couch looked inviting...

Dorian must have thought the same, because he flounced down at the far end, pulling Klaus with him. "Still frustrating? Get your lips over here, so I can change your mind!"

Klaus gave in gladly, settling close against Dorian and kissing his often whimful lover. Dorian would *never* be able to change Klaus' mind, but he could certainly lift the man's mood and his own with the indelicate sparring of mouth against mouth.

It might have turned into more, were it not for the dual problems of Heinz lurking in the kitchen, and Dorian's hunger. The kiss broke to light panting and the occasional peck, Dorian's bright smile firmly back in place. "If I wasn't more hungry for food than what you've got in your pants..." he half-teased, half threatened, sitting up at last.

"Tonight, when we come back from the restaurant," Klaus promised, laughing a bit wolfishly as he picked up a scone and tossed it to Dorian. And if his father was still in the house, so what? The man only brought it down on himself if he heard anything.

Dorian caught the scone deftly and raised it part of the way to his lips. "Oh, dinner!" Like an arch without its keystone, his smile crumbled as his mood fell again. "It's Christmas Eve, Klaus. You know you really should invite *him* along."

"I refuse," Klaus told him sternly, picking up one for himself. "I want to have a nice evening with you. Alone. Without my father."

The bite came, a large crescent gone from the scone, and Dorian chewed slowly and thoughtfully. "It would be rather awful, I know. But, you remember what I told you all those Christmases ago, about being alone? The same goes for mean-tempered fathers, too."

"If this goes horribly wrong -- no, *when* this goes wrong, Dorian..." Klaus said warningly, eating his own between words. "When this goes wrong, I warned you."

"When it goes wrong," Dorian repeated, "I'll be sorry but not regretful. And you'll be glad, years from now, that you bothered to take a chance." Klaus must already understand that a little, to agree so readily to Dorian's harebrained scheme.

"I already tried once," he murmured around a mouthful of scone, pouring out tea for Dorian. He couldn't stand the stuff himself, but the food wasn't bad. "This is the last time."

"Hmph." The last bit of scone was popped into Dorian's mouth, gulped down, and his fingers delicately licked clean of sticky glaze before he reached for his tea cup. "Aren't you glad I didn't say the same thing, the second time, or the fifth, or the hundredth you refused my advances?"

"I'm not trying to pick up my father. And I have no gut feeling of possible success in this... endeavour." He'd nearly said mission, and only caught himself seconds before it rolled off of his tongue. Well, he was sure that when the evening was over, Dorian would see his point of view concerning his father. Unless some radical change had occurred, there would be no difference in the man.

But it had taken a radical change in Klaus' thinking to finally accept Dorian, hadn't it? A change that was invisible on the surface...

"I would be deeply concerned if you were trying to pick up anyone," Klaus was teased again, as Dorian smirked at him over the edge of his cup. "Much less your father. But you respond so well to my kisses... Want me to try to butter him up a bit before we go?"

"Absolutely not!!" Klaus snapped, a reaction that he would have had no matter who Dorian had suggested that about. Joking or no -- but it didn't lower his mood as he flicked at Dorian's cup. "You're perverted." /And so am I./

"Oh, Darling!" Luckily Dorian's cup was empty, as it was tossed so carelessly to the table that it rocked wildly, then overturned. The blonde thief tossed himself into his love's arms again, kissing him soundly. "Did I ever tell you how sexy I find your possessiveness? I should make eyes at other men more often, just for the prickle my spine gets when you glare at me jealously."

"Make that a habit, and more than you spine will prickle!" Klaus warned him, even as he kissed him back. "You have enough men making moves at you without encouraging them."

"But only one I want to succeed," the thief purred, arching languidly into the kiss. Klaus tasted of scones, and himself of tea as mouths met and melded with an instantaneous surge of fire that made his groin tighten.

A pity they couldn't act on it just then.

Klaus broke the kiss slowly, with lingering presses and nips. "Now that you've eaten more, what will we do with the rest of the day?"

"Dance!" Slowly, with as much sensual rubbing and touching as Dorian could manage to infuse a dance with, until it hopefully resembled more something that should have taken place horizontally on a bed than on the dance floor. "And dinner. Although with your father coming you might want to hold off on trussing and blindfolding me until later..."

"That will be for later, then," Klaus murmured, pausing a moment before he slid his hands under Dorian, and then stood, tossing Dorian neatly over his shoulder. "Back to the hall, then!"

"Brute!" Dorian struggled very lightly, and made a great show of protesting all the way there, though his protests were all laughed.

~~~~~

Klaus had done a preliminary glance around for the old man throughout the house, before he'd returned to the kitchen and found him.

"Sir."

Heinz looked up, almost guiltily, from tea with Dominic over the little kitchen table. Klaus had forgotten that beyond all else, employer and servant, the two men were tentatively friends.

"Yes...?" Held back was the urge to snap something unpleasant about Klaus' reversal of his insistence that he wanted nothing to do with him.

"I came to ask if you would like to come to dinner with Lord Gloria and me this evening." Each word was spoken carefully, so as to not show a preference either for or against, and with some effort.

Klaus' stance and appearance was, surprisingly for Heinz when he took a moment to look at his son, unchanged. Still straight-backed, still stern and powerful... He hadn't turned into a wispy seeming man like his companion.

Something Dominic had tried to convince him of, to no avail. It was surprising now, and a little reassuring, to see with his own eyes. Watery gray-green eyes flicked in a moment of rare uncertainty to the butler, and then, having gotten some unseen message, back to Klaus. "I... thank you for the invitation. I would be... pleased to attend."

"We're leaving a little after seven; reservations are eight," Klaus told him, tone the same as before. "It's a... nice place." Which was almost Klaus' way of saying it was odd for him to even think of going there.

"I'd... better change then." Hands placed on the table helped lever the man to his feet, the motion reminding his son sharply that his father was no longer the strong, invincible god-figure remembered from his childhood. That he was rising purposefully was also proof enough that he'd planned on spending the night, and that Dominic had already given him a room -- probably his usual.

Blessedly on the other side of the house, if there was a god and Dominic was wise.

Klaus nodded in assent, and turned from the kitchen smoothly, walking down the hallway while well aware that his father was following him. That was fine. He'd be sitting at the same table with him in less than two hours, he could stand to be in the same hall-way for the moment.

But instead of following immediately, Heinz lingered, fretting at Dominic. "I don't think this is the best idea, regardless of what your opinion is. I don't know if I can stand to be at a table with him and that- that damned *faggot* while they make eyes at each other over the meal!" Only, on that logic, didn't that make his son a faggot, too? "I'm too tired, Dominic. I just want to wash my hands of the whole thing."

"Where would that put you, sir? I really doubt that they'll make eyes at each other," the butler said with a hopeful smile. "They really are discreet."

"They'll be thinking it, and I will, and ohhh..." He bit off the sentence with a groan. "Itís given me a headache already." He moved from the room, pausing at the door. "I'll be down before we leave, for a quick drink." Anything to bolster his nerves, or deaden them, for the coming night.

"Yes, sir." Dominic sighed slightly, moving to find Heinz' chauffer and give him instruction to follow in the event of a drunken Eberbach.

~~~~~

"You're driving into town in *that*?" Heinz was appalled, jutting his chin at Dorian's fire-red Porsche, parked detestably in a spot of honour in the Schloss garage, only two spaces down from his own Rolls Royce.

Uncertainly, Dorian looked between his car and his lover, and the keys, already held at the ready in his hand. "Aren't we?"

"I'll drive it, since you don't know where we're going," Klaus told him, reaching for Dorian's keys. "Just have your chauffer follow us, Sir."

"An Eberbach shouldn't be seen in something so tasteless and flashy," Heinz reminded, sounding depressed as he knew his complaint fell on unhearing ears.

Dorian was already gleefully scrambling in the passenger side.

"It's a fast car, sir," Klaus called over his shoulder as he slid into the driver's seat, slipping the keys into the ignition. He'd wait until the old man was in his Rolls Royce, and then he'd pull out of the drive.

Uncaring whether the old man was settled or not, watching or not, Dorian leaned and gave Klaus a kiss on the cheek. "A very fast car," he remarked happily, anticipation flickering across his face. "Another thing I love to watch you do is drive fast cars hard. The way you work that stick... I just melt into my seat, Darling."

"Then why don't we see how fast we can get this car to the restaurant. You know that French place you mentioned wanting to go to...?"

"I do. And I recall quite clearly a certain man's reaction to the suggestion. Something about being able to stomach the waiters at French restaurants even less well than the food..."

"I'm trying, Dorian," Klaus murmured, watching the door of his father's car shut. That confirmed, they could roll out, and did, backing out of the spot smoothly before he took off down the road and through the gates. "Your taste is usually pretty good, so the risk isn't so high."

Good enough for Dorian, who settled back in his seat, a grin tugging the edges of his lips. "Fess up -- you're secretly overjoyed at the thought of dragging your father someplace like that."

"Maybe I am -- but don't expect more from him than a fit," Klaus sighed. His whole reason for picking the place was that it was a mix between some of the clubs that Dorian had taken him to, and a normal restaurant. They were quiet there, or so it seemed, and unquestioning in whoever it was sitting at your table, and Klaus had wanted that... without his father throwing a fit nearby, of course.

"Do you know, I've never spent more than five minutes with the man, two alone, and none when he didn't look angry enough to take on Mischa and come out on top. I have no idea what to expect of your father." Except what could be gleaned of the Eberbach patriarch from studying Klaus, as it had often been said that the son was hewn from the same stone as his sire.

"That's a reasonable section of his personality you've seen there," Klaus snorted a bit disapprovingly. "At least, what I often see."

"You and he aren't anything alike then," Dorian replied with a small sound, somewhere between insistent and unhappy. "I don't know why everyone says you are."

"Who says that?" Klaus kept his questioning neutral as they took a sharp turn fairly smoothly.

"I heard a very lot of it at the party the other night. It's a perception you don't seem to have gone any lengths to dispel."

Dorian could see, clearly, on his lover's face, displeasure flicker, dancing over handsome features. "I don't know quite how to change that."

Bottom lip firmly between his teeth, Dorian pressed on. "Oh, don't bother! It would probably ruin your reputation, and all the work we've done to be discreet..."

"I'm sick of having a reputation to ruin," Klaus gritted out quietly. "I really am..."

"When you really mean that, complain to me again. I know several sure-fire ways to obliterate an upstanding reputation, and I'd be more than willing to help you orchestrate one." The frightening thing was, Dorian sounded at least a little serious.

And then he watched his lover's face twitch, edges of his mouth curling upwards for a flicker of a moment. Dorian was, despite having been mostly serious about that, being obliging to Klaus. "I know you would. But you know what I meant -- I can't understand how... this should make such an impact on my reputation. 'm still the same person as before."

Here was something Dorian would have as much trouble making Klaus understand as Klaus had had convincing Dorian that his father was a hopeless cause. "It... just does," Dorian faltered, his face screwing up into a brief scowl. "Think of it this way: would you have treated me differently at the beginning, if I hadn't been homosexual?"

Klaus let up a little on the gas, checking the rear-view for his father's car. Still behind them, if lagging... "If you'd still acted the way you did, no."

"Ah, but that was all part of the front," Dorian pointed out. "Without the foppish mannerisms of Lord Gloria, things would have been very different, yes? And yet, you didn't even know me. You made a snap decision on my place in the scheme of things based on a few looks, some horrible innuendo."

"You were hitting on me," Klaus reminded him reasonably. "And you got a kick out of trying your damndest to piss me off."

"And you to thwart me in return." Even then, Dorian realised, intentionally or not, Klaus had been responding to his flirting. "But that's a circular argument, Darling. What I'm trying to make you understand is, people see what they want. It's why Lord Gloria is such an effective person to hide Eroica behind. And what they see is often based on what they're expecting to see. That's where reputation comes in."

"But you act differently in each case." And he didn't! He was still the same person, except... there were different levels of anger and ferocity associated with he as the Major and he as Iron Klaus... "And you've created that reputation of... being that way. On purpose. I... know I'm just as much of a queer as you are, but I don't and never have *acted* that way -- so why would that change my reputation?"

"It's another tag to wear, Darling," Dorian explained to his lover, slowly, patiently. "Your reputation as a homophobe would go clear out the window, and that one would take its place. And worse, the people who know you would take it as a personal insult, that you'd been hiding something from them, pretending to be something you're not."

"It's none of their business, anyway," Klaus finally said, once Dorian's words had sunk in -- the Earl was right. In matters of human nature, Dorian was nearly always right, and this time was no exception. He slowed the car down to a semi-reasonable speed as they entered the city itself, running through his mental map of how to get to the place. "I've been suspected by NATO of having an affair with you for years now."

That admittance won Klaus a velvety chuckle. "NATO gives my reputation too much credit, I think, and yours not nearly enough." How galling it must have been for Klaus to live under that completely untrue suspicion!

"Ja. 's not like my career would be effected. And you're already a target because of that -- 's nothing I can really do about that." Many times he'd been dragged into missions or threatened because of his suspected relationship with Iron Klaus. Now, at least, there was an actual relationship there.

"What are you saying, Klaus?" He had to ask, because it sounded suspiciously like Klaus was talking about coming out. But Dorian had never asked that of the man, or even dared hope for it!

"I don't know. I'm just talking without a point," Klaus murmured, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel a little as he looked up at the light that had turned red just before they reached it. Sometimes, inklings of ideas animated his mouth without first consulting his pride or his common sense -- oddly, it was those thoughts that most often ended up winning in the long run. Hadn't that been how he'd admitted at last that he wanted Dorian?

"Uh huh." Klaus' 'talking without a point' was equitable to Dorian's trying to talk himself into something. "Well, I've already sworn discretion, but it would be nice to be able to take you to some of the raunchier clubs -- maybe dress you up a bit -- and to kiss you in public without you having to pretend to push me away." Just to quietly hold hands, even. Dorian wasn't usually one to flaunt a relationship, and in this case it wasn't a sense of victory that made him want to announce to the world that Klaus Eberbach was *his*.

"Dress me up?" Klaus questioned in a half stunned tone, looking over to Dorian.

"Oh, come ON, Darling!" The grin Dorian flashed back was mischievous, and the slightest bit wicked. "Just once I'd love to see you in a pair of tight leather pants. Don't tell me you've never wondered yourself how you would look..."

When the light turned, Klaus started the car forwards, making the left hand turn. "We'll see. I s'pose if I'm hard to identify we could go to some of those clubs..." Though he preferred to be alone with Dorian, the anonymity of such places was astonishing, and Dorian was so very much a people person... that they could both enjoy some of them. And it was easing Klaus slowly into the idea that he really *was* a queer like Dorian, even if the only person he wanted was the Earl.

"Yes, in London I think..." The Earl in question was already making plans. "Less of a chance that you'd be recognised there, and I'm more familiar with which are nice and which are just trashy and should be avoided.

"Don't plan for anything soon -- the Soviets like to start off the new year with a bang," Klaus warned him. Right after orthodox Christmas, usually, which he found funny since they were a proclaimed 'atheist' state. "Just keep your little stingy bug away from me."

The mere thought of a clash between the two, especially as by now James *had* to know where he disappeared to sometimes for weeks at a time, made Dorian's head pound unpleasantly. But keeping them apart was more easily said than done, even as Dorian offered, "Of course. I'll just have to see that he's... otherwise occupied when you come to London."

"I'd appreciate that." Klaus took one last turn that placed them on the building's small main parking lot and pulled in, tossing the keys to Dorian. Even as he got out of the car, he was tracking, discreetly with his eyes, his father's car pulling in. "I only had a table for two reserved, so they'll have to bring another chair."

The keys were deftly caught and thrust into a pocket, Dorian chiding as they headed for the door, "Oh, you can't fool me. I know you're predisposed to not liking the staff here. You won't mind at all inconveniencing them."

A quiet from Klaus as they walked through the set of intricately carved wood and glass double doors. "You're right." And that was admitted with a smile -- at last, a real smile from Klaus.

The restaurant was at once worse and better than Klaus had imagined, pulling his inferences of the place from a couple quick drive-bys with Dorian, and the phone call which had made them reservations. The decor was elegant but overdone, to the point that it became something other than tasteful. Low lighting and the soft buzz of conversation was more than acceptable, but the waitstaff... Far too many rat-like little men wandered the maze of tables, stopping at each to sniff out requests and orders and compliments.

It was, Klaus was sure, completely Dorian, from the way his lover's eyes lit up as they moved into the restaurant, towards the desk. "Reservation for Eberbach -- two, but we'll need another chair," he told the head waiter in a tone that made the man want to run.

On top of it, the request itself made the man want to mutter unpleasant things under his breath about the whims of patrons and the inconveniences they caused. "One moment please, gentlemen." He stalked, in an even pace despite the urge to bolt, to attend to the matter of an extra seat.

"I hope you'll be able to pick out decent things on the menu," Klaus said, truly a little hopeful, to Dorian just as his father came in through the doors. He hadn't noticed him yet, thank god, so there wasn't the awkwardness of conversation dying in that very moment. Not yet. "This place looks like the menus could be more toxic than that place in Milan."

"Oh, don't be silly," Dorian scolded, lightly touching his arm. "You can read enough French to prevent yourself from ordering something truly awful."

Behind them, Heinz scowled to see the pair standing so close together, let alone his son allowing the Earl of Gloria to paw at him. In public, even! *This* was Dominic's idea of discretion? He continued to hang back, uncomfortable and disapproving, trying not to look at them but unable to keep his eyes away.

"I hope they have something harder to drink than wine," Klaus murmured, finally letting his gaze drift a little. Over Dorian's face, his beautiful hair, and the wonderful body that was encased in a tasteful suit. Very little jewellery again, though he had a feeling that Dorian wouldn't have bothered had Heinz not been going to attend. "I could use it."

A thought seconded by Heinz, despite the glass of scotch he'd already downed before leaving, though he didn't dare agree aloud. He saw where his son's gaze wandered, and the fond way it lingered, and it made him queasy to watch, as much for feeling that he was invading something intimate as anything else.

"And just where is..." Sharp gaze drifted to Heinz at last, and Klaus fell silent. "Sir. We're waiting for the table to be set up."

For an odd reason, and for the first time in his life, Heinz felt uncomfortable having his son address him in such a way. Perhaps it had something to do with the slinking look Dorian passed between the two, or the way the second uniformed host -- come to replace the one who'd gone for another chair -- repeated almost identically Dorian's glance.

"Ah... Klaus. You- It's pretence anyway that you're being respectful to me," he excused. "I'd rather be called by my name this evening, I think."

That floored Klaus. He'd always been told to call his father 'sir', by both Dominic and by Heinz himself. And everyone else in the family. Now he wasn't supposed to anymore? /Just one more reminder that you're a step away from being flat out disowned,/ Klaus told himself, expression blank for a moment before he spoke. "All right... Heinz."

Amazingly, that seemed to relax his father some, easing from a brow very like Klaus' a faint line of tension that had seemed, for as long as Klaus could remember, permanently etched there. "It's bad enough you take me to some glitzy, tasteless foreign restaurant. But I will not be viewed askance by the staff, who seem to find something unusual in a very proper form of address." Always excuses he had, for any and all easing of strictness, because changing his mind was not an acceptable reason for changing household policy.

"Of course." Klaus was glad, suddenly, that they had a table in the smoking section of the restaurant. A quick pat of his pockets proved he still had a pack, unopened, but... "Dorian, d'you have a lighter on you tonight? I've left mine at home. 's probably on the desk."

Dorian patted down his own pockets, producing only a shake of his head. "In the car, Darling. There's always one or two in the glove box."

It was Heinz who wordlessly held out to his son a very worn, old looking lighter, set on both sides with military motifs.

Another surprise, and it was obviously a shock to Klaus to be offered that by Heinz. /He wants me to act like I do with everyone else, fine... I can try.../ That had always been something that made him uncomfortable around the older man -- his father's insistence that he speak properly at all times, most especially to him. "Thanks. I'll give it back to you when we get to the table and 've had a chance to light up, Heinz." And then, very carefully, the lighter was sipped into the inside of his coat pocket where it wouldn't fall out.

Heinz' pocket felt empty without the memento from his days in the tank corps. Between the two, he was more likely to misplace his right hand than that lighter. It was without doubt his favourite possession, and had been for as long as Klaus could remember.

Klaus' thanks was met with a soft snort, as the waiter finally appeared to lead the trio to their table.

"This way, sirs," the man said, friendly and polite enough, though cowing already under weight of Klaus' sharp eyes. At least the German man could be sure that the ratty waiters would stay away from the table unless summoned or bringing food.

The table was in one of the dimly lit parts of the smoking section, a candle placed in the centre of the setting to add illumination. It would have been wonderfully intimate had it just been the two of them. But, it wasn't. Still, Klaus had decided he would not act any differently than he would have if his father weren't there, so he reached the table first, and pulled Dorianís chair out for him.

Which Dorian accepted, but not without first giving Klaus the requisite pained and indulgent look. The table was a small circle, the settings thoughtfully placed equidistant from each other, which would make for easy conversation, at least from a logistical standpoint. It also meant that everybody was sitting next to everybody else, and that Dorian would have no opportunity to under the table discreetly grope Klaus.

It put him in near as low spirits as Heinz, for having to sit next to the fag Earl of Gloria. Klaus' father pulled his own chair and sat, ramrod straight and proper.

And Klaus' was nearly as bad, only he had a tendency to lean backwards minutely, which he did as he pulled the lighter and package of cigarettes out. He'd always been willing to smoke just about anything offered to him, but it must have irked his father to see that it was a British brand. He'd grabbed Dorian's more infrequently used cigarettes by mistake, and didn't even care that he had.

/Conversation... something to talk about.../ He lit one carefully, drew a deep breath, and then offered one to Dorian.

Who was more than glad to pull one from the pack, not with his lips as me would have otherwise, but with a flick of his wrist and his fingers. Courtesy to Heinz, to whom the pack was passed next and refused, before Dorian suffered Klaus to hold the lighter for him, too.

Did they really have to converse? Surely even this uncomfortable silence could be better than the shouting match Dorian half expected to erupt.

"I hadn't expected you to come home this year, s... Heinz." An obvious hesitation over the new way of addressing his father, as he handed the old man's lighter back to him carefully.

The lighter was accepted back with reverence and tucked carefully in Heinz' pocket. "I always return home for Christmas. I don't see why this year would be any different from another." Except for the fact that he'd nearly disowned his son the year before, but he was being painful about pretending that had never happened.

"You usually come home a couple of days after the ball," Klaus shrugged casually, tapping a bit of ash into the tray. "Next year, you might want to come home earlier. I am sure that I will either be away on duty or in London."

"For the ball?" his father asked sharply, drawing a quizzical expression from Dorian.

"I will not be entertaining the various branches of the Eberbach family next year when they come to the Schloss, or hosting the ball," Klaus confirmed. "It is pure luck that I've been able to host the ball two years in a row."

"You make your schedule a year in advance, and already have it booked?" It had begun in his usual demanding tone, but something had made Heinz back off to a mere question. "As head of the family-" He shut his mouth with a snap.

As head of the family, it was Klaus' duty to host the gathering. But Klaus, in a state of semi-disownment and wilful disobedience, clearly had no care for familial duty.

"Haven't gotten on to your mission to replace me yet?" Klaus asked him, even as the waiter edged near the table with menus -- which he decided to hand to Dorian, before fleeing. "I will not serve as the interim head of this family knowing I will be disowned the moment you have procured an heir."

Something amazing happened then, the most demure reaction Klaus had ever seen from his father. Heinz's eyes fell to his hands in his lap, and he swallowed, hard, before mumbling, "I already have an heir. He is flawed, but... he will just have to make do."

Only an Eberbach could make such an immense apology and still make it backhanded. "I suppose I've always 'made do' in this family..." Klaus exhaled a breath of smoke, and glared for a moment at the menu Dorian passed him before he even realised that the Earl was still there. He hated how he could do that, focus his mind so much on one thing... It left him feeling a little like a heel in that moment. "Thank you, Dorian -- do you see anything you recognise and know's good?"

"Oh, I recognise all of it," Dorian offered cheerily. He didn't seem to mind that Klaus had fazed him out momentarily. But then, he was accustomed to years and years of it, during missions, and through those years had been simply grateful that Klaus' attention ever returned to him at all. "Just don't order anything that says 'escargot' next to it, and you'll be fine."

Across the table, Heinz hadn't touched his own menu, and his eyes were still in his lap. Hadn't Klaus heard what he'd said? Couldn't the unappreciative boy understand what it had cost, in terms of pride and compromise of personal morals, just to say those few words?

"Damn French and their need to eat bugs," Klaus sighed, glancing over the menu for a moment with the purpose of not only finding food, but of processing his father's words and finding an answer for them. "I'll ask the Chief for time off, then -- but only if Dorian will be allowed to be present." The Chief would jump at any chance, still, to get him to take a vacation -- and the longer the better.

"The Earl?" Both Heinz's and Dorian's gazes leapt up, colliding in their haste to get to Klaus first.

"And how would I be expected to introduce him to the family?" Klaus' father pressed unhappily. "My fag son's fag lover? The reason Eberbach's line will remain heirless? I can't-" His voice had raised a little, and he sharply reined it in. "I can't be as accepting about this as you are, or even Dominic is."

"If options come up that involve me *not* having to touch a woman to produce an heir, then I'll look into it," Klaus growled sharply, folding the menu. "You will not call Dorian a 'fag'; you will not call *me* a 'fag'. You don't have to introduce him at all -- I will."

If the tone of the conversation hadn't been so dreadfully tense, Dorian would have gladly pointed out that he didn't mind the slur. Not so long ago, another Eberbach had taken to calling him that on a regular basis, so fondly that it almost sounded like a pet-name to the thief's ears.

Heinz was chastised but remained clearly unrepentant. "Then introduce him and yourself both that way," he snapped. "It's what you are."

"God *dammit*," Klaus snapped, barely stopping himself from hitting the top of the table in his surge of anger. "I'd like to think my occupation and my work with NATO is more important than who I sleep with in my free time!"

"Your job?" Leaning forward a little now, Heinz' eyes flashed with a good portion of the anger he had at his command. "Your job means nothing to society! Who you sleep with -- that is gossip! That is scandal! I don't care that you bring down yourself, but you bring down the family with you."

"The *family* will be brought no-where, *Sir*, unless they want to make a fuss over it. I don't *care*, do you understand that? The Soviets have had me having an affair with Dorian for years -- it's known world-wide in the intelligence community, and it hasn't effected anything!" He was trying to calm down again, using the same arguments he'd used such a short time ago on himself in the car.

"Hasn't affected..." Stunned, Heinz repeated the words back to himself, just to make sure he had them correctly. "It hasn't affected anything?!? You're affected!" A finger was jabbed sharply in Klaus' direction. "You are talking about carrying on an IMMORAL affair with another MAN, as careless as were you discussing the weather! I- Just- " Unexpectedly, trembling with rage and perhaps something more, the old man buried his head in his hands.

More words, when they followed, were muffled and low. "Just tell me this, Klaus. Where did I fail you? Did I not give you everything you would need to succeed in life? Honour and principle and discipline, a fine education... And yet- Yet... You *are* flawed, but as I am the man responsible for moulding you and shaping you, the fault must be mine. Tell me where I failed, my son..."

"You didn't fail," Klaus murmured after taking another moment to calm himself down. "I'm a successful agent, and I serve the Fatherland well. My only flaw, that you're so obsessed with being a failing, is my sexual orientation."

"And that isn't enough to count as a failure? Perhaps if I'd raised you differently, had more women around the house when you were a child. Remarried..." He nearly choked on the last word, his voice finally giving out.

"Would you be able to be proud of me if I was a do-nothing, a lay-about that was married, and had children?" Klaus asked in disbelief, hoping that wasn't going to get an affirmative answer. His father had *drilled* into him the importance of serving country and family -- being a military man, being an officer, being the best at that... but there had been no stressing on what to do with people.

"No." The word was croaked, but firmly, and Heinz raised his head a little. "For the things you have done with your life -- I... could be no prouder of you than I am." In fact, Klaus would be the perfect son, were it not for once glaring thing..

"There is... nothing wrong about what I've chosen," he said at last, words that needed to be said -- a final defence, without excuses, of his relationship with Dorian.

In that instant, Dorian wished desperately that he wasn't half a table away, and that he could reach across and grab Klaus' hand and squeeze it tightly.

To that defense, and the unyielding finality, Heinz recognized that there was nothing further to be said. No protests of moral or secular illegalities would be heard. Klaus had decided- *decided* on the lifestyle he was living. Heinz had taught his son above all in making decisions, after weighing the choices and consequences, to decide without possibility of regret.

Klaus had decided, and wasn't regretful, and there was nothing in the world Heinz could do but cope.

"It's your choice, Heinz, of whether Dorian and I are at the Schloss next holiday, or in London," he told his father, moments before the waiter arrived.

There was an odd break as the waiter took orders, and Dorian bubbled over certain menu items because he was a little tired of being on-eggshells quiet around such an intense conversation.

Heinz fretted, and scowled when he had a problem wrapping his tongue around the French of the menu, and that scowl deepened when Dorian politely extricated him from the mire of pronunciation. And when the waiter had left, and Klaus was again looking at him, and the blonde Earl a little too, though he was trying not to be obvious about it, he discovered he still had no answer for them. But he was expected to say something...

"Next Christmas... is a very long time away. Many things could change between now and then. I-" /Want to hold off on my decision,/ he wanted to say. But that was the coward's way out, and Heinz Eberbach was no coward. "You should be at the gathering, Klaus. It is your duty."

"Then I will be there," Klaus murmured, "unless something interferes from work." Or, Dorian ran a mission askew by himself, which still counted as work interference. "Now, can we talk about something else now that this has been run into the ground?"

Heinz's weary nod said quite plainly that he would not be drug into any more conversations, but that he was glad enough to see the current one dissipate.

It was Dorian, or rather Lord Gloria, the social wizard, who waded in and set the mood to rights with a few well-placed remarks about the restaurant and the wine, and before long had snared Klaus into a light debate concerning the merits of finishing or starting a meal with salad.

Or even bothering with a salad at all.

It was distracting enough to finally get Klaus to relax, and imperceptibly to him, he was leaning nearer to Dorian as they talked, even once shifting his chair just a little closer.

Dorian noticed though, just as Klaus' father did and pretended not to. But where the other man was quietly unhappy, Dorian's spirits were soaring. It was one of the loveliest sensations he could imagine, that tingle being the focus of Klaus' attention always earned his stomach. Polite and smiling -- giving Dorian the occasional sparkling laugh even -- it was times like this he could and very easily did fall head over heels in love with his wonderful Major all over again.

Klaus ability to tune others out was, at times, phenomenal. Just as he'd phased Dorian out during the conversation with his father, his father was phased out during conversation with Dorian. Dinner arrived, each of them having ordered something completely different. The food was good, better than good in actuality, and Klaus commented on that before he offered Dorian a piece of the beef he'd ordered, smothered in an aus juice sort of orange sauce. "You'd like this -- try 't," he offered, a piece on a fork for Dorian.

Not about to pass up a chance like that, Dorian leaned and slipped with his lips -- set in a wicked smirk -- the bit of food Klaus was offering from the fork. "Mmn, delicious!" he crooned, beaming, and set about returning the favour. "Now you must try some of this, Darling..."

Across the table, Heinz' fork, as it impacted is plate in mechanical bites, hit harder and harder, louder and louder. If it hadn't been such solid, fine silverware, the handle probably would have bent in his painfully tight grasp.

"'s not bad," Klaus commented, chewing as he pulled back from Dorian's offered fork, nodding and smiling at his lover while he went back to his own plate. The scrap of his father's fork, though... "Are you having a problem, Heinz?"

"No." But the clatter didn't stop.

Well, whatever suited him. It seemed poor manners though... Klaus drained his glass of wine smoothly, setting down his utensils when he was done.

"More wine?" Dorian poured him another glass, and topped off Heinz's for good measure, though he got himself glared at for doing so.

"Thanks," Klaus murmured. "'t reminds me -- we have to open presents when we get back."

"Oh -- yes!" Unable to help himself any longer, Dorian let his foot wander under the table, contacting Klaus' and sliding gently up his shin. "I can't wait to see what you've gotten me this year! Last year's gift was so wonderful..."

Poor Dorian got the shock of his life when, across the table, Heinz shot furiously to his feet, tipping over his chair in the process. "All right! This is the final straw! I cannot bear any longer to have this relationship flaunted in my face, or worse, creep up my leg!"

As only a blonde can do, Dorian blushed red down to the very roots of his hair, and up to the tips of his ears.

"What?" Klaus startled, having been completely unaware of it all. "Dorian, what..." Creep up his leg... Dorian had a habit, when he was trying to touch him discreetly, of running a foot up the length of his leg. He must have missed this time... "Ah, Heinz, it was just a mistake! Calm down and sit down!"

"Calm down? Calm down?!? Your- your gentleman friend has just touched me in a wholly inappropriate manner! Mistake or not, I refuse to settle down and accept it as common happenstance!" Heinz's loud, outraged bellows were drawing unwanted attention from the other diners and restaurant staff alike.

"Oh, God -- I'm so sorry!" The apology was for Klaus; Heinz was beyond listening. Dorian slunk further into his chair, vowing to never undertake such a manoeuvre again.

Klaus had never been one to worry or care about the opinions of people on restaurants. He'd drawn worse things than the looks his father was drawing now, so it didn't matter. "Stop ranting like a Nazi homophobe."

If Klaus' intent was to stun his father, those words did the trick better than had he taken the wine bottle and smashed it over the man's greying head. Dumbly and stiff as a corpse, Heinz slowly took his seat again.

"Thank you," Klaus murmured crisply. "You were disturbing other people's dinners." And it was bad enough that their dinner wasn't going as he wanted it to go -- other people didn't need to suffer his father, too!

No one apparently cared that Heinz's dinner had been interrupted. What was left of his meal seemed suddenly very unappetising, with Klaus' awful words knotting his stomach. He poked at it for a few minutes longer with his fork but took not one more bite, and finally put his napkin on the table. "I... would like to leave now."

Klaus was finished, and had been, and Dorian was finished, too, by the looks of it. "I'll get the cheque, then," Klaus said, hailing down the waiter.

Dorian had in the minutes following his disastrous faux pas slowly recovered his normal colouring. But the instant his eyes unintentionally flicked to Heinz, the colour rose again. Thank God he wasn't going to drive home in the same car with the man! Later, someplace more private he would try to make amends and another attempt at apologies, but for now...

For now the man was still reeling at being rebuked, loudly and publicly, by his son.

The waiter didn't come to ask what Klaus wanted -- instead, he came with cheque ready in a hopeful manner, and watched Klaus pull a wallet out of his back pocket, leafing through quickly to pay for it in cash, leaving a decent tip for the man.

Outside, in the calm of the parking lot and away from the oppressive feel of prying eyes, Heinz finally recovered use of his tongue. "I should take a belt to you for that shamefully offensive remark, Klaus."

"I didn't say you were one, Heinz -- I just said you were acting like one," Klaus said carefully, *knowing* instantly what his father was referring to. it was a low blow, and directed right as his father's weak point.

"I wasn't- " He strangled to a halt, too overwhelmed still with horror to properly organize his thoughts, much less make a coherent argument out of them. "I have never been so embarrassed nor been shown such disrespect in my life."

"I'm sorry -- but you were making one of those scenes you keep trying to avoid me making," Klaus murmured, stopping near the Porsche.

"You called me a-" Hands flexed into meaty fists and relaxed again. If he'd been thinking clearly, it would have been a wonderful opportunity for Heinz to blame something else awful on the Earl of Gloria.

Who was already happily climbing into the Porsche, deciding that it was his turn to drive. "Klaus, Darling. We can talk at home. It's cold outside, for the love of God!"

"Temperature is a matter of discipline! It was colder in Alaska!" Klaus reminded him, moving a little nearer the car. "I know I did... sir. I'm sorry I did -- I just wanted you to calm down."

"Calm me, or send me into a fury so black I could not speak?" Heinz snapped, trying to hold that fury in the face of what seemed a sincere apology.

"Calm you," Klaus said after a moment of silence where he was expecting to be hit.

"Insulting me in the most crude and vulgar way imaginable is supposed to calm me?" Surprisingly, the blow that would have been landed a year ago did not fall.

"It works often on me." And it did.

There was also the fact that what he'd accused his father of was true -- his father's homophobia had been prevalent in the Nazi party, and his inability to cope, willingness to disown Klaus for it fell in line with those ideals. He was a perfect son apparently, other than wanting Dorian, but that one flaw was enough to disown him?

Staring at his son, Heinz's eyes adopted a very foreign look, one Klaus had begun to see only recently. It was perplexed, just the tiniest bit frightened, and, oddly, proud. It was the expression of a man who had looked at something he'd looked at a million times before, but was actually seeing it for the first time, and marvelling at the complexity of good and bad that he discovered.

Klaus, his son, was an admitted homosexual. Bad. Klaus, his son, had also at some point gone behind his back and grown up -- truly matured, into a man Heinz could be proud of. Good. So why was it so difficult to reconcile the two?

It seemed to Klaus that it should have been easy -- but it wasn't proving to be so. "'f it's any solace, sir, 'm going to stick with Lord Gloria. For the long haul."

If it was -- and it looked to be a very small one, judging by the smoothing of a few tension lines around Heinz's mouth -- he certainly wasn't going to admit it. "Long haul...? I... hope you're not expecting my blessing on the union." Taken from anyone else but a man of Heinz's propriety, that would have been humorous. But he was dead serious.

Klaus gave a roll of a shrug, "I know you won't. I just thought you'd like that know that I may be queer but it hasn't killed my morals and dignity."

"Klaus...? Car? Home? Cold?" Dorian, not wanting to start the engine and flood the talkers with exhaust, had nevertheless bundled himself up inside the Porsche, were at least he was out of the biting wind. A window rolled a crack made his pitiful asking understandable.

"Ja," Klaus drawled, looking away from his father at last. "Dorian and I are going to open presents in the Hall when we get back. Have a safe trip." A pleasant enough wishing, as Klaus finally got into the Porsche.

Even that awful Earl could be thoughtful, Heinz noticed, as the Porsche did not pull from the parking lot until he'd gotten safely in his own vehicle. On the road however it was soon reduced to a pair of pinpoint taillights, and then around a corner those were gone, and the old man was left with the company of a roil of half-formed thoughts and strange emotions for the rest of the journey back to the Schloss.

~~~~~~

They reached the Schloss long before his father did, and Klaus was glad of that -- it gave him a chance to escape any confrontation for a while. Unless Dorian was going to argue over his Christmas gift, which he severely doubted would happen.

At least, he was hoping it wouldn't happen. Things hadn't been going well for him so far that day, and with his lack of luck, it wouldn't have surprised him. Not then.

But his father... had tentatively accepted him back into the family. And as much as it stung that he'd even been pushed away, he couldn't help but feel un-naturally elated over his father's vague acceptance of his decision. The old man had finally told Klaus that he was proud of him -- that he *had* done enough in his duties and work to deserve approval... only, that his sexuality was a stumbling block. Had the old man always known, or suspected, and was that why he'd never received such frank approval in his life?

Klaus stayed silent as they entered the house, took his coat and Dorian's and hung them up, then led the way into the hall. It wasn't the angry silence Dorian *had* been expecting and prepared for -- since getting into the car, Klaus had been tightly silent in that way he had when he was deep in thought.

Entering the hall, Dorian veered for the lights, dimming all but those on the tree, which he eased to their full brilliance. The task gave him time to change his tactics, as a thoughtful Klaus needed much lighter handling than an angry Klaus. Klaus thoughtful was quiet, and nice company when Dorian was in a similar mood. Which he was not this Christmas Eve. Worse, Klaus was clearly not thinking about *him*, which Dorian planned on changing, just as soon as he thought of a gentle way to do it.

Although, Dorian was inadvertently the reason for his thoughts.

Klaus was leaning against the wall across from the corner the tree was in, arms folded lightly over his chest while Dorian brought the lights up. Dominic had, as per his instructions, taken his two presents to Dorian out of the linen closet and placed them dead centre under the tree.

The thief had stolen a moment earlier that day to tuck his own presents to Klaus under the tree, a little disappointed that Klaus' to him weren't there yet. He'd been anxious to see the size of them, perhaps shake them a little and guess at their contents. Coming to it blindly, his anticipation was nearly enough to drive him insane.

It was difficult then to walk over to Klaus and not let his eyes linger under the tree for too long in doing so. "Very lovely," he murmured, unclear as to whether he meant the tree, or Klaus, or both.

"I think so -- let's go sit," Klaus suggested, grasping Dorian's nearest hand once he'd uncrossed his arms and shifted off from the wall. He led the other man to sit down on the floor with him, in front of the tree. There weren't any chairs in the hall, and Klaus liked the excuse for the intimacy that could happen so easily with freedom of movement.

That was already happening, as Dorian wasted no time in settling quite close to Klaus, tucking his long legs beneath him with the ease of a man accustomed to extended bouts of lounging. "How are we going to do this?" he asked, shifting his hand more comfortably in Klaus', but clearly not about to let go. Christmases with his extended family were usually messy and boisterous, with wrapping paper tossed everywhere and ribbons and bows liberally decorating the revellers. Christmas with Klaus was calm and intimate, and he was suddenly afraid to do something wrong which might spoil the mood.

"You've been anxious about it all day, I bet -- so..." Klaus pulled his hand free of Dorian's, and leaned forwards, still sitting, to snag the two gifts for Dorian. Both were neatly wrapped, as was expected from Klaus; one was perhaps the size of a clothing box, the second smaller, and perhaps only an inch thick. "So open them."

"Now?" Dorian hesitated, stroking a finger along the paper of the larger gift. "Which should I open first? And I'll want you to open one of mine at the same time." Why was this more difficult than giving Klaus, much more a stranger six years ago than tonight, Benedict's journal?

It could have been the nervousness that was pervading both of them. "Now...?" Klaus asked, a strange tone in his voice -- almost disappointed. He'd wanted to be able to clearly look at Dorian when the man opened his gifts... "Open the bigger one first."

Dorian forced his fingers, despite the mood, to tear into the first package with their usual excitement. It was difficult to unwrap while stealing near-constant glances to Klaus' face, and becoming lost in them when he found his lover's grey-green eyes studying his own sapphire intently.

He was trying to gauge the gift's effects even before Dorian had opened it! "'s your Christmas gift," Klaus murmured, as Dorian shuffled loose the lid.

Within, folded neatly, was a silken black button up shirt, shining at Dorian even in the light of the tree and glittering a little bit with gold. When it was lifted free, he could tell it was sized perfectly for his torso, tailored narrower at the waist. And the sleeves were poet's sleeves!

It was in every way something Klaus would complain about him wearing, but which Dorian believed the German secretly liked. Now he knew for certain that his hunch was correct. "Oh, Klaus..." He held it up against his chest, looking down at the shimmer and wash of satiny fabric, and then back to his lover. "It's marvellous!"

"I hoped you'd like it!" A broad smile was stealing across his lips before he pressed, picking up the smaller one again, "Now this one. This is just for today."

"Just for today...?" the shirt was laid carefully aside, with a plan to wear it for Klaus as soon as he could, and Dorian lifted the smaller package. "He tore the paper, but slowly, his eyes again skipping up to Klaus' every few seconds.

What he looked upon was probably the culmination of every even vaguely romantic thought Klaus had ever had in his life.

The necklace within that box was a broad gold choker, made of a wire mesh -- but woven into that were bright, silvery little roses, petals curling in towards the center from the edges. Klaus expression was still smiling, but more nervous now, and faltering minutely as he waited for Dorian's reaction.

It was longer in coming than Klaus' fluttery nerves could stand, and better when it came than he could have hoped. The gift wasn't even afforded the same care as the shirt had been. It was caught up in the flurry of motion that was Dorian launching himself at Klaus, hugging the man tightly around the neck. "It's beautiful! Oh, Klaus... How did you guess my tastes so perfectly?"

Did he want to admit to the romantic mush that had turned his mind to drivel when the thought first struck him? No, not really. "You said something about wire and roses... a few times, actually, and it just stuck in my mind." His hands settled on Dorian's back, though, hugging him close as he gave in to the urge to laugh -- Dorian truly liked it! The man was a good actor, but he'd never been able to act so well while pressed against Klaus like that. So the effort of working through a design with that flamer of a jeweller in Bonn had been worth it...

"Put it on me?" The request was strangely tremulous as Dorian pulled back a little, his lip between his teeth.

"Gladly." Klaus picked it up in careful hands, unhooked the tidy clasp at the back, and brushed Dorian's thick hair back from his neck while he leaned in. It took a moment to get the clasp closed again, while looking his lover clean in the eyes.

It was worth seeing Dorian's gaze turn from pleased to adoring, and the light shiver that shook him at the feel of Klaus' fingers brushing the nape of his neck. As soon as Klaus was finished, Dorian's fingers crept up to appreciate the choker in lieu of the mirror he didn't have. "It's wonderful..." he repeated, leaning in for a tender kiss.

The tender brush of mouth to mouth that it began as morphed, slowly under Klaus' guidance, into a familiar open-mouthed search. Klaus' fingers lingered at the nape of Dorian's neck, hidden beneath the lion's mane of hair and lightly brushing the necklace. There was relief in that kiss, that Dorian hadn't laughed at the gift, and appreciation for them even reaching that point. If the thief had asked him, he would have told the thief, a bit embarrassedly, that Dorian was all the gift he needed

And Dorian, ever the soul of modesty, might have agreed. He hadn't the need though, as two gifts of his own for Klaus still rested under the glorious tree. The kiss that began light and surged deep ended playfully, a series of languid nips which made great promises for the rest of the evening. Dorian pulled back finally enough to ask, "Yours now?"

"Yes." Klaus was reluctant to leave the haven of his lover's mouth, but he was a little curious as to what the Englishman had gotten him. At least he could be sure that it wasn't stolen -- Dorian knew he wouldn't stand for it. Both gifts were retrieved quickly, and he settled back down beside Dorian, looking over to his lover. "Which one?"

"Mmn... That one." Dorian's hand left the choker long enough to point to a brightly wrapped package similar in size to his first gift from Klaus. Soon they were back though, playing lightly over the choker's edge in a barely-conscious motion that had all the earmarks of a new habit. He didn't look quite so coy doing it as when he threaded a curl through playful fingers, but thoughtful instead, and every bit as adorable.

And Klaus could feel the pride of knowing he'd given the choker to Dorian, that it was well appreciated, and the sign of understanding it was between them. A wire rope and rose vine could mix beautifully, given a chance...

Klaus picked up the gaudily wrapped package, raised his eyebrows once at Dorian, and then reached into his pocket to pull out a small knife, slitting the tape as efficiently as he had the first gift Dorian had given him. That soon peeled back the paper, and then he lifted up the cardboard lid of the box.

ìNext Christmas, Darling, I'm going to discover some way to wrap a package that you won't be able to open with a knife," Dorian teased, leaning a little as Klaus peered into the box.

Nestled in a heap of crisp tissue was a bit of grey cloth, watery silk of a colour that when matched against Klaus' eyes made their green flare and simmer. When shaken out, it proved to be a pair of pyjamas of the cut Klaus favoured. While clearly a gift thoughtfully chosen for his lover, it could be in away considered one for Dorian as well, as the thief's eyes held a greedy anticipation at the thought of snuggling close at night to a silk-clad Klaus.

As much a gift to both of them as the shirt that Klaus had given Dorian. The German man would truly appreciate them, as could be seen in the pleased glint in his eyes as he studied them and felt the material. Soft, but not flimsy, Klaus was sure that they'd stand up to some of the more hasty removals his pyjamas often faced. "Thank you," were his sincere words as he folded them back up, laid back in the box but not closed. "I'll wear them tonight!"

But only for a short time, until Dorian gleefully stripped him of them. That sentiment was clear as crystal in the blonde's eyes, as he handed over another, smaller box. "I know you'll look wonderful in them. Now, open this one! It won't be as immediately useful, but..."

This time, Klaus wasn't as meticulous in the opening. One firm slice, and the paper was peeled back, ripped a little but no-where near the debauched ripping Dorian managed to do. This one was opened with equal care to the last one...

Beneath bright paper was a nondescript box, and Dorian edged forward, his heart scrambling its way up his throat as Klaus lifted the lid. He'd been unsure as to whether such a gift was at all appropriate, or would be appreciated, but it had seemed like a thing Klaus would find useful at the very least.

Inside the box was a holster, polished and smelling of new leather. When Klaus lifted it out he realised that the sides weren't smooth, but intricately tooled in a pattern of tangled rose vines.

"I think... that you would kill me if I wore this to bed," Klaus smiled broadly, studying the strong workmanship of the shoulder holster. It was wonderful! His old one, a dear friend of many years, was showing it's wear, the leather cracking in places despite his exquisite care. "Ach, this is perfect, Dorian."

"Is it really?" Still the thief looked unsure. "I didn't know which sort of gun to have it made to fit, so I had to call your office. And you've no idea how difficult it is to get information out of a bunch of nosey, gossipy Alphabets, especially without giving away what you want the information for!"

"This will hold my .357 perfectly, Dorian," Klaus said approvingly. His alphabets were quicker on the draw than Dorian probably gave them credit for -- but right now, he didn't care about that. He just shifted Dorian closer by grabbing him at his waist, pulling him at least halfway into Klaus' lap to receive a proper kiss.

What a Christmas it had been.