FIC: Rules of Engagement
Title: Rules of Engagement
Author: Sri (pikkalam_sri )
Pairing: Dorian/Klaus
Characters: Dorian, Klaus, Papa Eberbach, Herr Hinkel
Warnings: Yaoi (obviously), fandom cliches, unbeta’d
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 5,000
Summary: [Klaus] was often encouraged to marry - this was the first time he had been ordered to do so.
Author's Notes: The inspiration for this story was the description of Klaus' father on the Belladonna fact sheet. This is my first offering to the From Eroica With Love fandom. I've been reading a ton of great fic, so I'm sure I've mixed canon with fanon here. Corrections, comments and concrit are welcome.
--
To paraphrase some foppish French philosopher: think out your plan like a man of action, act out your plan like a man of thought. Major Klaus von dem Eberbach lived by these words. In the spy game, not thinking five steps ahead was the surest way to get yourself killed. While “Iron Klaus” was known as NATO’s tank for his use of brute force, only fools underestimated the formidable strength of his mind - and usually, just the once.
On the other hand, if the KGB could ever entice the elder Eberbach across the iron curtain, NATO would probably dissolve the next day.
“Klaus,” Commander Eberbach addressed his son sharply, breaking the preceding hour of silence. It was one of his infrequent visits to the Schloss, and the two were sitting down to dinner in one of the smaller, 'family' rooms. Klaus looked across the eight feet of informal dining table expectantly. Instead of continuing right away, Eberbach senior cut a piece of meat, brought it to his mouth, chewed it thoroughly and swallowed.
“You will take a wife by midwinter.”
Klaus, who had been unwise enough to take a sip of water while waiting for his father to speak, choked. He was often encouraged to marry - this was the first time he had been ordered to do so. To buy himself a moment to think, Klaus set down his glass and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“My work is too dangerous, I can’t just -”
“Your Agent A is married, is he not? As second-in-command, his job is nearly as perilous as your own.”
“Anyway, there will be time -”
“When I was your age, I was married .... and had a higher rank,” his father added. “Besides, you need someone to help manage your estate.”
“Herr Hinkel -”
“Is an old man, and the last of a dying breed. You need a wife, Klaus. This is my final word on the subject.”
His final word. This discussion typically took twenty-five to thirty minutes, resulting in an uneasy truce wherein Klaus agreed to attend some dead boring social event and his father agreed to let the matter drop for the time being. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was a routine. This time, his father had abandoned the script. All of Klaus' rehearsed responses were rendered useless.
Klaus’ furious search for a new excuse - any excuse - was interrupted by the entrance the new maid. She was a flighty little thing, with more hair on her head than brains within it. Klaus couldn’t quite recall her name … Ester? Ethel?
“Excuse me, Major vom dem Eberbach, sir.” She curtsied prettily enough. “A Lord Gloria has arrived to see you. He says he has an appointment.”
Klaus immediately stopped trying to remember the girl’s name. She would be gone by morning.
“Where did you leave him?”
Ester/Ethel quailed at Klaus’ cold tone. “Th-th-the drawing room, sir!”
Alone, with several national treasures. He was on his feet before her second stutter. “I will return in just a moment, Vater.”
“Nonsense,” the elder Eberbach said blandly. “Show him in, Edith.”
“That will not be necessary -” Klaus cried, too late. The terrified woman had already fled.
In a moment, that effeminate Earl would be in same room as his father. He would be wearing a frilly shirt or tight trousers, his hair a tumbled mass of luminous curls. And any opportunity Klaus had of having a rational discussion with his father would evaporate like so much fruity perfume.
Sometimes, even when Klaus had every part of a mission planned to the nanosecond, things went spectacularly wrong. An agent made a mistake, an enemy acted out of character, a civilian stepped into his sight line at precisely the wrong moment. Or an annoying art thief stuck his refined nose in where it didn’t belong. Luckily, Klaus had one other weapon in his arsenal.
“Hello, dar- oh.”
The thing that made him such an effective field agent …
“Father, may I present Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria.”
Iron Klaus knew how to improvise.
“He is my lover.”
--
For a minute, Dorian thought he would faint. Then he thought he had fainted, and this was all some sort of wonderful dream. Looking over at the red-faced Eberbach senior, however, he promptly revised his assessment of who in the room was most likely to lose consciousness.
“Oh, Major,” he said, trying to modulate his natural tenor into a more masculine baritone. “You and your sense of … humor. Ahem. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m a business associate of -”
“Nein. No more lies.” The Major marched around the table and took Dorian’s hand. “If he can’t accept us, then he is not welcome -”
“Aha- aha- ahahahahaha!” Dorian’s laugh sounded panicked, even to his own ears. Beyond his confusion, the feeling of Klaus’ calloused fingers sliding between his own was making it impossible to think. He managed to hiss, “What are you doing?”
In response, the Major kissed him.
Perhaps ‘kiss’ was too strong a word for the abrupt collision of lips and noses. Still. Dorian was speechless.
Cool as a cucumber, the Major turned back to the older man and smiled. “Vater, Dorian and I are going to retire now. If you have anything else to say to us, it can be said in the morning.”
With that, he used the hand clutched in his own to drag Dorian from the room.
Once they reached the relative safety of the entrance hall, Dorian more than half expected the Major to drop his hand and shove him out the door. Instead, he was led up the grand staircase, straight past the master bedroom and into the east wing, towards what he knew to be the second best guest suite. His heart began to beat triple time.
Dorian had it on good authority that, for security reasons, the second best guest suite was where the Major slept.
The Major calmly opened the door and ushered him through it with a firm push at the small of his back. Once inside his personal sanctum sanctorum, Dorian took a moment to drink it all in.
The room was simply furnished. A four-poster dominated the space, along with a large wardrobe and an escritoire. He was certain no NATO documents had ever crossed that desk - too big a risk. Perhaps it’s for personal correspondence? On the right, a single armchair sat in front of an empty fireplace. He could see the Major there, a cup of Nescafe at his elbow and his gun dismantled on the ottoman for cleaning. On the left, a door led to a spotless half-bath. No decadent bathtub, of course. There were only efficient showers for his Klaus.
And now I’m picturing him naked. Dorian felt an inappropriate giggle rising in his throat, and he clamped his lips firmly closed. He glanced over his shoulder at the Major, who was standing in front of the door with arms crossed.
“No need to look so stern.” Dorian quipped, “Even though you felt it necessary to manhandle me into your bedroom, I’m hardly going to try getting out again.”
The Major’s hands dropped to fists at his sides. He took two menacing steps forward, and then halted mid-stride. Dorian didn’t realize he was retreating until he ran into the footboard.
Klaus’ footboard. On Klaus’ bed. Damn, there go the giggles again.
“Lord Gloria… Dorian. I need your help.”
The Major was obviously agitated, which never boded well for the safety of anyone in shooting range. But Dorian wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease, just a little. So he took the sideways step necessary for him to lean decoratively against a bedpost. “If you’re trying to get my attention, mission accomplished.”
“My father wishes for me to marry before the year is out.”
Dorian felt his stomach drop and he immediately abandoned his insouciant pose.
“What?!?”
“You will act…” Klaus’ Command Voice faltered for the first time since Dorian met him. “If we pretend to be a couple, he will finally leave me alone. I only need to fool my father until he leaves Sunday evening.”
“Major... I - Wh -You can't expect me to go along with this!”
“Why not?” The Major barked in a harsh tone belied by his blushing face. “It's everything you ever dreamed, you verdammt fairy.”
“Not everything,” Dorian said, without thought.
The Major stood impossibly straighter. “I am not going to - to -”
“That's not what I meant!” Dorian shrieked, only to be silenced by the Major's urgent hushing motion. “That's not what I mean,” he continued in a more reasonable tone. “I don't want to sleep with you.”
Off of the Major's incredulous look, he amended,
“Well … not like this, at any rate.”
“Are you going to do this, or what?” His voice was irritated, but his eyes had that blank look he wore when he really needed help. Dorian smiled at how well he knew his inscrutable Major.
Turning towards the unlit fireplace, Dorian tried to collect his thoughts. What the Major was suggesting … it was horrible. A parody of the affection he craved, all to suit some ulterior motive. Using one sham relationship to avoid another - the opposite of romance. He shuddered.
On the other hand, if Klaus married he would be honor-bound and faithful. Any chance Dorian had or imagined he had to win Klaus' heart would be lost forever. The thought was too much to bear. Dorian screwed up his courage and turned to face the Major once more.
“I'll do it.”
“Gut,” the Major growled in obvious relief.
“So... just one problem left, lover.” Dorian perched on the edge of the bed. Smoothing a hand over the bedspread, he batted his eyelashes at the Major.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the other man's eye twitch. “Ja?”
“I didn’t bring any pajamas.”
--
If he were a sane man, he would’ve made the fop sleep on the armchair. Or the floor. Hell, he could curl up on top of the wardrobe for all Klaus cared. But the Earl had commandeered the bathroom first, and by the time Klaus had finished brushing his teeth he was laying on the far side of the bed, pretending to sleep. Klaus could have taken the armchair option himself, except that it was his bed. To be in his bedroom and not sleep in his bed was preposterous.
So here he was, under the sheets with the damned thief. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. The Earl had borrowed a pair of pajamas, but had refused to don an undershirt or button the top. In his sleep he had rolled over, exposing his hairless chest. In the past hour, he had begun inching unconsciously towards Klaus’ side of the bed. The moment he comes too close, Klaus promised himself, I’ll kick him right out.
Being on guard against the Earl gave Klaus plenty of time for introspection. He realized that his hastily-conceived plan was full of many, many fatal flaws. Not the least of which was his own temper, which was bound to go off sooner or later during an entire weekend in the fop's company. He was relying entirely on his father’s shock and disgust to prevent him from asking too many questions. He was putting his trust with the ridiculous Earl of Gloria, and praying that the man wouldn’t ask for something indecent in return.
“Mmmm.” As if sensing his train of thought, the Earl moaned in his sleep. “Ahhh … Klaus.”
The sound of his name, whispered with such fervent desire, sent a chill down his spine. “Hey!”
“Wha-? Whazzat?” The Earl’s head jerked.
“You were … dreaming of me,” Klaus accused.
“Darling,” came the mumbled reply as the Earl turned away, “I dream of you every night.”
Klaus was out of bed in a flash. He looked at the clock … three in the morning. A good a time as any to start his morning routine. He might as well as double his usual calisthenics, since he had a little extra time on his hands. Dropping to the floor, Klaus started doing push-ups.
One... two... idiot... four... five... fop... seven...
--
Breakfast was, to say the least, tense. Dorian felt like an errant schoolboy, and association reinforced by the fact he was wearing a blazer and trousers that had once served as the Major's school uniform. Nothing else in the man's spartan wardrobe had a chance of fitting Dorian, and the Major seemed certain his father would not recognize the outfit. Dorian was skeptical, but his request to have Bonham drop off something from his own closet was resoundingly denied. Thankfully, the uniform was a solid navy that lacked tell-tale piping, crests, or (god forbid) a matching beanie. Dorian had pulled his hair back into a low ponytail, since the Major's bathroom was completely devoid of styling product, and left his earrings behind.
He felt like he was a teenager again, trying to pass for straight.
The elder Eberbach did not comment on Dorian's appearance. He did not make any comment or, for that matter, eye contact. He kept his gaze on his plate, eating with the slow deliberation of the truly uncomfortable. The few light conversational gambits Dorian dared to make were met with a sullen silence in stereo from both the Major and his father.
“This is ridiculous” Dorian threw down his napkin. “Commander, I would like to apologize for this whole fiasco.”
“Dorian,” the Major hissed in a warning tone.
“What Klaus did last night was unforgivable. He should not have told you -”
“Liebling,” the Major sounded like he was chewing broken glass. “Please.”
“- so abruptly,” Dorian continued, ignoring the fluttering in his chest at the begrudged endearment. “I am very sorry for any distress we may have caused you.”
Eberbach senior stared at him. His eyes, the same vibrant green of the Major's, were as intensely cold as his son's were fiery. Dorian's stomach churned with nerves.
“Accepted,” same the starling reply. “I like to see a man who takes responsibility for his actions.”
Dorian winced at the backhanded slight to his beloved, but let is pass. “Indeed, I had hoped to be merely introduced last night. I never imagined - well, I understand that it's a lot to process.”
“Indeed.” That cold stare became thoughtful. “I have some business to attend. Lord Gloria, you will join me in the gardens this afternoon.”
It wasn't a question, but Dorian found himself responding, “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
With a brisk nod, the elder Eberbach rose and exited the dining room. His firm stride was a faint echo of the Major's marching. Dorian amused himself by listening until he could no longer hear the Commander's footsteps.
“That went... well...” Dorian's voice faded into nothing at the look on the Major's face. Flushed, with eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. In a word, incensed. Dorian rose cautiously from his seat, preparing to bolt. “Now, Major -”
“How exactly,” the Major's voice started deathly quiet, gaining ten decibels with every word, “was. That. HELPING?!?”
Dorian had just about enough. He was going along with Klaus' scheme. He had behaved himself in bed. He was dressing straight, talking straight, acting straight. He was playing the perfect little closet case, and he hated it.
So he decided to get back a bit of his own. “We were just finding some common ground, my dear.”
“Which was?” The reply came through gritted teeth as Klaus stood.
“Simple,” he struck a pose, hoping that he cut an adequately devastating figure in his borrowed suit and unconditioned hair. “You are a terrible disappointment to us both.”
He intended the remark to sting. But Dorian was completely unprepared for the sudden deflation, the flash of real hurt. The Major looked down at the napkin clutched in his hand as if he'd never seen one before.
“Oh,” Dorian pressed one hand to his mouth, wishing desperately to call back the words. “Oh, Klaus, I didn't -”
With the barest nod of acknowledgement, the Major stomped out.
--
“Pull.”
The clay pigeon whirled through the air. Klaus waited a few precious seconds, letting it get further away, while he lined up his shot. Then, just as it passed out of shotgun range, he pulled the trigger. His gun made a tiny 'zing!' The pigeon was reduced to smithereens.
Leaning back from the scope of his sniper rifle, Klaus almost smiled.
Now came a few boring minutes - time enough for the grounds crew to move the pigeon launcher to a new location. The game was no fun without some element of surprise. He lit a cigarette and stared out over the lawns.
Stupid thief. Why did he have to be so … perceptive? It was the one thing that Klaus hated most about the Earl. He could forgive idiocy, as he did with his subordinates. He could even tolerate perversion - look who he had for a superior! But every once in a while, the Earl showed that he was more than just a brainless invert. He was capable of loyalty, of bravery, of depth. And of withering sarcasm.
“Pull!”
This time, the pigeon came from the right and was approaching rather than receding. The grounds crew was getting more resourceful. Still, a moment later the shooting range was being decorated with tiny bits of clay.
The Earl was a waste, that was all. With his brains and his skills, he would have made one hell of an agent. Instead he spent his time flitting about after useless art like The Man in Pumpkin Pants. Of course, the day Lord Gloria settled down to some respectable pursuit would be the day the world fell off its axis. Klaus simply wished... He wished...
Before he could decide what he wished, a familiar voice crackled over the radio.
“Master Klaus? Might I have a word?” Herr Hinkel's voice was deferential, yet determined.
“Ja?” The servants knew not to contact him during practice unless it was a dire emergency.
“It's a matter of a personal nature, sir.”
Klaus scowled, suspecting the subject at hand. He didn't want to have this discussion over a non-secure frequency with all of the grounds crew listening in. “I'm on the top floor of the north tower.”
“Very good, sir.”
It took over half an hour for the butler to show up, during which time Klaus decimated another dozen targets. He kept the older man waiting while he finished off a few more pigeons before turning to face him. Herr Hinkel bowed respectfully.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Klaus lit another cigarette and shrugged. “What is it?”
“It's just that… Lord Gloria, sir, he -”
“I do not want to hear a word about that verdammt thief!”
“He's been crying, sir.”
“Pfft,” Klaus shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “It is the nature of faggots to cry.”
Herr Hinkel pursed his lips slightly, a gesture Klaus read as disapproval.
“Anyway,” he blustered, “What do you want me to do about it?”
“My apologies. I thought you would want to know.”
“Well I don't! Pull!” It took the startled ground crew a few moments to register the order, but soon another pigeon was launched. Klaus pulled the trigger twice before finally hitting the target on his third try. When he turned back around, a curse on his lips, Herr Hinkel was gone.
--
Oh, damn. Damn damn damn. Dorian splashed his face with icy water, trying to erase the evidence of this morning's breakdown. The Major hated emotional displays, and Dorian couldn't imagine that his father would be any more sympathetic. As he inspected his face in the bathroom mirror, his lower lip began to tremble once more.
“Snap out of it, Eroica.” He chided himself, slapping one cheek and then the other in a vain attempt to bring out some color. “Oh, why didn't I bring any make-up?”
I wanted to stay on Klaus' good side, that's why. It had been so long since he had seen his Major. His plan had been to pop by for a few minutes, just long enough for Dorian to flirt and Klaus to fume. The spark rekindled, Dorian would have been content to return to Castle Gloria for another few months of pining. Now look where he was - getting ready to meet his prospective father-in-law.
“Don't you start that again,” he said to his watery reflection. Taking a deep breath, he blotted the last of his tears and plastered on his sunniest smile. Realizing that this would probably frighten the Major's father into an early grave, he toned it down a bit. Thus girded for battle, he went in search of Commander Eberbach.
He was directed by one of the maids to the rose garden, to his secret delight. It was the wrong time of year for blooms, but the plants themselves looked gloriously healthy. The elder Eberbach was in serious discussion with the head gardener, a grizzled man with dirt under his fingernails, when Dorian arrived.
“- not abide these modern monstrosities, Herr Bauer. Where are the Autumn Damasks?”
“Oh, um...” The gardener twisted his hat in his grubby hands. “Master Klaus, that is -”
“I'm afraid the fault is mine, Commander.” Dorian stepped smoothly in, dismissing the poor gardener with a nod. He had his own theory as to why the fragrant flowers had been removed. “While I do love an Old Garden rose, the landscaping around the Schloss needed a bit of updating.”
“You did this?” Commander Eberbach eyed the hardy hedgerow.
“I would never presume,” Dorian demurred. “But I encourage Klaus to consult me on such matters. My own estate is the envy of North Downs.”
“Hmph.” Eberbach senior seemed to mull this over for a moment. Then, without preamble, “What do you think of Klaus' work?”
“I worry about him every day,” Dorian replied truthfully. “At the same time, I know how important his work is to NATO, to Germany , and to the world. I'm proud to be his -” Dorian hesitated, then settled for, “I'm proud of him.”
Commander Eberbach said nothing, but gestured for Dorian to walk with him. A few minutes of comfortable silence ensued as the two visually inspected the garden. After they completed the circuit, the older man turned to Dorian and regarded him appraisingly. Still, he did not speak.
Dorian took a deep breath. In for a penny... “I know I am not the kind of partner you want for your son. But you should know that I love him, and would do anything for him.”
The elder Eberbach shook his head, and Dorian's heart sank.
“On the contrary, Lord Gloria. You are the kind of person I would want for Klaus. With the obvious exception of your gender.”
Dorian was flabbergasted. Luckily for his suddenly weak knees, there was a stone bench nearby for him to collapse onto. He resisted the urge to swoon and instead sat down hard, bruising his tailbone and not caring one whit.
“I'm sorry?”
Commander Eberbach sighed and stared into the distance. “I've had my doubts about Klaus since he was a teenager. Your presence simply confirms them.”
So I'm not the only one, Dorian thought, with giddy bewilderment.
“I had my doubts about you as well, Lord Gloria.” The elder Eberbach settled onto a bench opposite Dorian's. “That you were a feckless playboy, someone who would use Klaus and leave his life in shambles.”
“But that's not true!” Dorian protested, “Since I met Klaus, I -”
The strong hand that was held up to silence him was so like Klaus' that he instantly obeyed. “I know, Lord Gloria. My research this morning was quite thorough. Shall we retire to the drawing room for a drink?”
Only in Schloss Eberbach were background checks acceptable tea-time conversation.
“One more thing, if you please. I - rather, Klaus and I - always assumed you would want an heir.”
“Children are irrelevant.” Commander Eberbach grimaced minutely. “No, that is not what I meant. I want him to be happy, Lord Gloria.” His expression, usually quite serious, became almost grim. “Do you make him happy?”
Those thrice-damned tears made one last bid for freedom.
“I try. God help me, I try.”
--
Klaus had been searching the Schloss for over a quarter of an hour, and his patience for crybaby thieves was wearing thin. As he doubled back to check the kitchens he heard the faint grumbling of his father's voice, followed a familiar laugh, clear as bells. Something twinged in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of throwing open the doors to the drawing room.
“Klaus!” The Earl leapt from his seat on the comfortable divan. He beamed and reached for Klaus' hands with both of his. “There you are, I was beginning to wonder.”
Keenly aware of his father's presence and the need to maintain the charade, Klaus took the Earl's hands. They were soft and a bit slippery, probably from some lotion the fop had layered on. Wherever he found such a thing at Schloss Eberbach, he would never know.
“Liebling,” he said, hoping the word did not betray his aggravation. He eyed Eberbach senior warily. “Vater.”
“I must go,” Commander Eberbach replied brusquely. He was standing by the door, his overcoat draped over one arm. “My bags have been loaded into the car. Dorian and I have been waiting for some time.”
'Dorian'?!? “My apologies, sir. I did not know you would be leaving tonight.” Realizing he was still holding the Earl's hands, he promptly dropped them. “I'll walk you out.”
“That won't be necessary.” Eberbach senior nodded to the Earl, and then turned to Klaus. “Eleven years ago, your cousin Heinrich sired a bastard. The boy's name is Alexander. I will arrange a meeting, so that you may consider him as your heir.”
The words were an enormous weight of his shoulders. He would no longer be expected to wed and impregnate some miserable socialite in order to carry on the family name. Klaus was free.
“As you wish, sir.”
“And I will expect further details on some sort of commitment ceremony by the end of the month.”
“Was?”
Eberbach senior pulled on his coat and gloves as if he had not heard his son's panicked exclamation. “Midwinter will be upon us sooner than you think, and it's best to be prepared. Good day.”
A stunned silence reigned as the elder Eberbach's footsteps receded, and as the front door of the Schloss closed behind him. Klaus turned, only to find the Earl halfway out of the drawing room window.
“EROICA!” He pounced and, seizing the back of the thief's shirt, hauled him back into the room. He then spun the other man around and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Please, darling,” the Earl whimpered. “Don't kill me.”
“What did you do?”
“Only what you asked me to do, Major!” The Earl began to struggle ineffectually. “It's not my fault if, by some miracle, he approves of me!”
“Miracle? Ha!” Klaus gripped tighter, no doubt leaving bruises on the Earl's fair skin. “More like a curse!”
The Earl suddenly stopped resisting. “You got what you wanted, Major. Can I go, now?”
This caught Klaus completely off-guard. Usually, he couldn't pry the Earl away with a crowbar. And now he was begging to leave? Klaus reverted to his default position in times of confusion - intelligence gathering.
“Why? What are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing.”
“How did you convince my father that we...” Somehow he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He settled for a comprehensive glower.
A small smile quirked the Earl's lips. “You won't like the answer.”
“Tell me!” He resisted shaking the Earl, but it was a near thing.
“Simple,” Dorian sighed. “I told him that I love you.”
For the first time, Klaus did not scoff at the foppish declaration. He looked directly into those wide blue eyes … and saw the truth there. He didn't want it to be there. He didn't want it to be somewhere inside himself, either. And he was irked that his father had once again outwitted him, and had seen it first.
But he had one last stratagem at his disposal. One that every solider knows, and knows when to employ.
“That's a good answer,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to Dorian's.
Klaus surrendered.
END
Author: Sri (pikkalam_sri )
Pairing: Dorian/Klaus
Characters: Dorian, Klaus, Papa Eberbach, Herr Hinkel
Warnings: Yaoi (obviously), fandom cliches, unbeta’d
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~ 5,000
Summary: [Klaus] was often encouraged to marry - this was the first time he had been ordered to do so.
Author's Notes: The inspiration for this story was the description of Klaus' father on the Belladonna fact sheet. This is my first offering to the From Eroica With Love fandom. I've been reading a ton of great fic, so I'm sure I've mixed canon with fanon here. Corrections, comments and concrit are welcome.
--
To paraphrase some foppish French philosopher: think out your plan like a man of action, act out your plan like a man of thought. Major Klaus von dem Eberbach lived by these words. In the spy game, not thinking five steps ahead was the surest way to get yourself killed. While “Iron Klaus” was known as NATO’s tank for his use of brute force, only fools underestimated the formidable strength of his mind - and usually, just the once.
On the other hand, if the KGB could ever entice the elder Eberbach across the iron curtain, NATO would probably dissolve the next day.
“Klaus,” Commander Eberbach addressed his son sharply, breaking the preceding hour of silence. It was one of his infrequent visits to the Schloss, and the two were sitting down to dinner in one of the smaller, 'family' rooms. Klaus looked across the eight feet of informal dining table expectantly. Instead of continuing right away, Eberbach senior cut a piece of meat, brought it to his mouth, chewed it thoroughly and swallowed.
“You will take a wife by midwinter.”
Klaus, who had been unwise enough to take a sip of water while waiting for his father to speak, choked. He was often encouraged to marry - this was the first time he had been ordered to do so. To buy himself a moment to think, Klaus set down his glass and wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“My work is too dangerous, I can’t just -”
“Your Agent A is married, is he not? As second-in-command, his job is nearly as perilous as your own.”
“Anyway, there will be time -”
“When I was your age, I was married .... and had a higher rank,” his father added. “Besides, you need someone to help manage your estate.”
“Herr Hinkel -”
“Is an old man, and the last of a dying breed. You need a wife, Klaus. This is my final word on the subject.”
His final word. This discussion typically took twenty-five to thirty minutes, resulting in an uneasy truce wherein Klaus agreed to attend some dead boring social event and his father agreed to let the matter drop for the time being. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was a routine. This time, his father had abandoned the script. All of Klaus' rehearsed responses were rendered useless.
Klaus’ furious search for a new excuse - any excuse - was interrupted by the entrance the new maid. She was a flighty little thing, with more hair on her head than brains within it. Klaus couldn’t quite recall her name … Ester? Ethel?
“Excuse me, Major vom dem Eberbach, sir.” She curtsied prettily enough. “A Lord Gloria has arrived to see you. He says he has an appointment.”
Klaus immediately stopped trying to remember the girl’s name. She would be gone by morning.
“Where did you leave him?”
Ester/Ethel quailed at Klaus’ cold tone. “Th-th-the drawing room, sir!”
Alone, with several national treasures. He was on his feet before her second stutter. “I will return in just a moment, Vater.”
“Nonsense,” the elder Eberbach said blandly. “Show him in, Edith.”
“That will not be necessary -” Klaus cried, too late. The terrified woman had already fled.
In a moment, that effeminate Earl would be in same room as his father. He would be wearing a frilly shirt or tight trousers, his hair a tumbled mass of luminous curls. And any opportunity Klaus had of having a rational discussion with his father would evaporate like so much fruity perfume.
Sometimes, even when Klaus had every part of a mission planned to the nanosecond, things went spectacularly wrong. An agent made a mistake, an enemy acted out of character, a civilian stepped into his sight line at precisely the wrong moment. Or an annoying art thief stuck his refined nose in where it didn’t belong. Luckily, Klaus had one other weapon in his arsenal.
“Hello, dar- oh.”
The thing that made him such an effective field agent …
“Father, may I present Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria.”
Iron Klaus knew how to improvise.
“He is my lover.”
--
For a minute, Dorian thought he would faint. Then he thought he had fainted, and this was all some sort of wonderful dream. Looking over at the red-faced Eberbach senior, however, he promptly revised his assessment of who in the room was most likely to lose consciousness.
“Oh, Major,” he said, trying to modulate his natural tenor into a more masculine baritone. “You and your sense of … humor. Ahem. Pleased to meet you, sir. I’m a business associate of -”
“Nein. No more lies.” The Major marched around the table and took Dorian’s hand. “If he can’t accept us, then he is not welcome -”
“Aha- aha- ahahahahaha!” Dorian’s laugh sounded panicked, even to his own ears. Beyond his confusion, the feeling of Klaus’ calloused fingers sliding between his own was making it impossible to think. He managed to hiss, “What are you doing?”
In response, the Major kissed him.
Perhaps ‘kiss’ was too strong a word for the abrupt collision of lips and noses. Still. Dorian was speechless.
Cool as a cucumber, the Major turned back to the older man and smiled. “Vater, Dorian and I are going to retire now. If you have anything else to say to us, it can be said in the morning.”
With that, he used the hand clutched in his own to drag Dorian from the room.
Once they reached the relative safety of the entrance hall, Dorian more than half expected the Major to drop his hand and shove him out the door. Instead, he was led up the grand staircase, straight past the master bedroom and into the east wing, towards what he knew to be the second best guest suite. His heart began to beat triple time.
Dorian had it on good authority that, for security reasons, the second best guest suite was where the Major slept.
The Major calmly opened the door and ushered him through it with a firm push at the small of his back. Once inside his personal sanctum sanctorum, Dorian took a moment to drink it all in.
The room was simply furnished. A four-poster dominated the space, along with a large wardrobe and an escritoire. He was certain no NATO documents had ever crossed that desk - too big a risk. Perhaps it’s for personal correspondence? On the right, a single armchair sat in front of an empty fireplace. He could see the Major there, a cup of Nescafe at his elbow and his gun dismantled on the ottoman for cleaning. On the left, a door led to a spotless half-bath. No decadent bathtub, of course. There were only efficient showers for his Klaus.
And now I’m picturing him naked. Dorian felt an inappropriate giggle rising in his throat, and he clamped his lips firmly closed. He glanced over his shoulder at the Major, who was standing in front of the door with arms crossed.
“No need to look so stern.” Dorian quipped, “Even though you felt it necessary to manhandle me into your bedroom, I’m hardly going to try getting out again.”
The Major’s hands dropped to fists at his sides. He took two menacing steps forward, and then halted mid-stride. Dorian didn’t realize he was retreating until he ran into the footboard.
Klaus’ footboard. On Klaus’ bed. Damn, there go the giggles again.
“Lord Gloria… Dorian. I need your help.”
The Major was obviously agitated, which never boded well for the safety of anyone in shooting range. But Dorian wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t tease, just a little. So he took the sideways step necessary for him to lean decoratively against a bedpost. “If you’re trying to get my attention, mission accomplished.”
“My father wishes for me to marry before the year is out.”
Dorian felt his stomach drop and he immediately abandoned his insouciant pose.
“What?!?”
“You will act…” Klaus’ Command Voice faltered for the first time since Dorian met him. “If we pretend to be a couple, he will finally leave me alone. I only need to fool my father until he leaves Sunday evening.”
“Major... I - Wh -You can't expect me to go along with this!”
“Why not?” The Major barked in a harsh tone belied by his blushing face. “It's everything you ever dreamed, you verdammt fairy.”
“Not everything,” Dorian said, without thought.
The Major stood impossibly straighter. “I am not going to - to -”
“That's not what I meant!” Dorian shrieked, only to be silenced by the Major's urgent hushing motion. “That's not what I mean,” he continued in a more reasonable tone. “I don't want to sleep with you.”
Off of the Major's incredulous look, he amended,
“Well … not like this, at any rate.”
“Are you going to do this, or what?” His voice was irritated, but his eyes had that blank look he wore when he really needed help. Dorian smiled at how well he knew his inscrutable Major.
Turning towards the unlit fireplace, Dorian tried to collect his thoughts. What the Major was suggesting … it was horrible. A parody of the affection he craved, all to suit some ulterior motive. Using one sham relationship to avoid another - the opposite of romance. He shuddered.
On the other hand, if Klaus married he would be honor-bound and faithful. Any chance Dorian had or imagined he had to win Klaus' heart would be lost forever. The thought was too much to bear. Dorian screwed up his courage and turned to face the Major once more.
“I'll do it.”
“Gut,” the Major growled in obvious relief.
“So... just one problem left, lover.” Dorian perched on the edge of the bed. Smoothing a hand over the bedspread, he batted his eyelashes at the Major.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he saw the other man's eye twitch. “Ja?”
“I didn’t bring any pajamas.”
--
If he were a sane man, he would’ve made the fop sleep on the armchair. Or the floor. Hell, he could curl up on top of the wardrobe for all Klaus cared. But the Earl had commandeered the bathroom first, and by the time Klaus had finished brushing his teeth he was laying on the far side of the bed, pretending to sleep. Klaus could have taken the armchair option himself, except that it was his bed. To be in his bedroom and not sleep in his bed was preposterous.
So here he was, under the sheets with the damned thief. He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. The Earl had borrowed a pair of pajamas, but had refused to don an undershirt or button the top. In his sleep he had rolled over, exposing his hairless chest. In the past hour, he had begun inching unconsciously towards Klaus’ side of the bed. The moment he comes too close, Klaus promised himself, I’ll kick him right out.
Being on guard against the Earl gave Klaus plenty of time for introspection. He realized that his hastily-conceived plan was full of many, many fatal flaws. Not the least of which was his own temper, which was bound to go off sooner or later during an entire weekend in the fop's company. He was relying entirely on his father’s shock and disgust to prevent him from asking too many questions. He was putting his trust with the ridiculous Earl of Gloria, and praying that the man wouldn’t ask for something indecent in return.
“Mmmm.” As if sensing his train of thought, the Earl moaned in his sleep. “Ahhh … Klaus.”
The sound of his name, whispered with such fervent desire, sent a chill down his spine. “Hey!”
“Wha-? Whazzat?” The Earl’s head jerked.
“You were … dreaming of me,” Klaus accused.
“Darling,” came the mumbled reply as the Earl turned away, “I dream of you every night.”
Klaus was out of bed in a flash. He looked at the clock … three in the morning. A good a time as any to start his morning routine. He might as well as double his usual calisthenics, since he had a little extra time on his hands. Dropping to the floor, Klaus started doing push-ups.
One... two... idiot... four... five... fop... seven...
--
Breakfast was, to say the least, tense. Dorian felt like an errant schoolboy, and association reinforced by the fact he was wearing a blazer and trousers that had once served as the Major's school uniform. Nothing else in the man's spartan wardrobe had a chance of fitting Dorian, and the Major seemed certain his father would not recognize the outfit. Dorian was skeptical, but his request to have Bonham drop off something from his own closet was resoundingly denied. Thankfully, the uniform was a solid navy that lacked tell-tale piping, crests, or (god forbid) a matching beanie. Dorian had pulled his hair back into a low ponytail, since the Major's bathroom was completely devoid of styling product, and left his earrings behind.
He felt like he was a teenager again, trying to pass for straight.
The elder Eberbach did not comment on Dorian's appearance. He did not make any comment or, for that matter, eye contact. He kept his gaze on his plate, eating with the slow deliberation of the truly uncomfortable. The few light conversational gambits Dorian dared to make were met with a sullen silence in stereo from both the Major and his father.
“This is ridiculous” Dorian threw down his napkin. “Commander, I would like to apologize for this whole fiasco.”
“Dorian,” the Major hissed in a warning tone.
“What Klaus did last night was unforgivable. He should not have told you -”
“Liebling,” the Major sounded like he was chewing broken glass. “Please.”
“- so abruptly,” Dorian continued, ignoring the fluttering in his chest at the begrudged endearment. “I am very sorry for any distress we may have caused you.”
Eberbach senior stared at him. His eyes, the same vibrant green of the Major's, were as intensely cold as his son's were fiery. Dorian's stomach churned with nerves.
“Accepted,” same the starling reply. “I like to see a man who takes responsibility for his actions.”
Dorian winced at the backhanded slight to his beloved, but let is pass. “Indeed, I had hoped to be merely introduced last night. I never imagined - well, I understand that it's a lot to process.”
“Indeed.” That cold stare became thoughtful. “I have some business to attend. Lord Gloria, you will join me in the gardens this afternoon.”
It wasn't a question, but Dorian found himself responding, “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
With a brisk nod, the elder Eberbach rose and exited the dining room. His firm stride was a faint echo of the Major's marching. Dorian amused himself by listening until he could no longer hear the Commander's footsteps.
“That went... well...” Dorian's voice faded into nothing at the look on the Major's face. Flushed, with eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. In a word, incensed. Dorian rose cautiously from his seat, preparing to bolt. “Now, Major -”
“How exactly,” the Major's voice started deathly quiet, gaining ten decibels with every word, “was. That. HELPING?!?”
Dorian had just about enough. He was going along with Klaus' scheme. He had behaved himself in bed. He was dressing straight, talking straight, acting straight. He was playing the perfect little closet case, and he hated it.
So he decided to get back a bit of his own. “We were just finding some common ground, my dear.”
“Which was?” The reply came through gritted teeth as Klaus stood.
“Simple,” he struck a pose, hoping that he cut an adequately devastating figure in his borrowed suit and unconditioned hair. “You are a terrible disappointment to us both.”
He intended the remark to sting. But Dorian was completely unprepared for the sudden deflation, the flash of real hurt. The Major looked down at the napkin clutched in his hand as if he'd never seen one before.
“Oh,” Dorian pressed one hand to his mouth, wishing desperately to call back the words. “Oh, Klaus, I didn't -”
With the barest nod of acknowledgement, the Major stomped out.
--
“Pull.”
The clay pigeon whirled through the air. Klaus waited a few precious seconds, letting it get further away, while he lined up his shot. Then, just as it passed out of shotgun range, he pulled the trigger. His gun made a tiny 'zing!' The pigeon was reduced to smithereens.
Leaning back from the scope of his sniper rifle, Klaus almost smiled.
Now came a few boring minutes - time enough for the grounds crew to move the pigeon launcher to a new location. The game was no fun without some element of surprise. He lit a cigarette and stared out over the lawns.
Stupid thief. Why did he have to be so … perceptive? It was the one thing that Klaus hated most about the Earl. He could forgive idiocy, as he did with his subordinates. He could even tolerate perversion - look who he had for a superior! But every once in a while, the Earl showed that he was more than just a brainless invert. He was capable of loyalty, of bravery, of depth. And of withering sarcasm.
“Pull!”
This time, the pigeon came from the right and was approaching rather than receding. The grounds crew was getting more resourceful. Still, a moment later the shooting range was being decorated with tiny bits of clay.
The Earl was a waste, that was all. With his brains and his skills, he would have made one hell of an agent. Instead he spent his time flitting about after useless art like The Man in Pumpkin Pants. Of course, the day Lord Gloria settled down to some respectable pursuit would be the day the world fell off its axis. Klaus simply wished... He wished...
Before he could decide what he wished, a familiar voice crackled over the radio.
“Master Klaus? Might I have a word?” Herr Hinkel's voice was deferential, yet determined.
“Ja?” The servants knew not to contact him during practice unless it was a dire emergency.
“It's a matter of a personal nature, sir.”
Klaus scowled, suspecting the subject at hand. He didn't want to have this discussion over a non-secure frequency with all of the grounds crew listening in. “I'm on the top floor of the north tower.”
“Very good, sir.”
It took over half an hour for the butler to show up, during which time Klaus decimated another dozen targets. He kept the older man waiting while he finished off a few more pigeons before turning to face him. Herr Hinkel bowed respectfully.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
Klaus lit another cigarette and shrugged. “What is it?”
“It's just that… Lord Gloria, sir, he -”
“I do not want to hear a word about that verdammt thief!”
“He's been crying, sir.”
“Pfft,” Klaus shrugged, striving for nonchalance. “It is the nature of faggots to cry.”
Herr Hinkel pursed his lips slightly, a gesture Klaus read as disapproval.
“Anyway,” he blustered, “What do you want me to do about it?”
“My apologies. I thought you would want to know.”
“Well I don't! Pull!” It took the startled ground crew a few moments to register the order, but soon another pigeon was launched. Klaus pulled the trigger twice before finally hitting the target on his third try. When he turned back around, a curse on his lips, Herr Hinkel was gone.
--
Oh, damn. Damn damn damn. Dorian splashed his face with icy water, trying to erase the evidence of this morning's breakdown. The Major hated emotional displays, and Dorian couldn't imagine that his father would be any more sympathetic. As he inspected his face in the bathroom mirror, his lower lip began to tremble once more.
“Snap out of it, Eroica.” He chided himself, slapping one cheek and then the other in a vain attempt to bring out some color. “Oh, why didn't I bring any make-up?”
I wanted to stay on Klaus' good side, that's why. It had been so long since he had seen his Major. His plan had been to pop by for a few minutes, just long enough for Dorian to flirt and Klaus to fume. The spark rekindled, Dorian would have been content to return to Castle Gloria for another few months of pining. Now look where he was - getting ready to meet his prospective father-in-law.
“Don't you start that again,” he said to his watery reflection. Taking a deep breath, he blotted the last of his tears and plastered on his sunniest smile. Realizing that this would probably frighten the Major's father into an early grave, he toned it down a bit. Thus girded for battle, he went in search of Commander Eberbach.
He was directed by one of the maids to the rose garden, to his secret delight. It was the wrong time of year for blooms, but the plants themselves looked gloriously healthy. The elder Eberbach was in serious discussion with the head gardener, a grizzled man with dirt under his fingernails, when Dorian arrived.
“- not abide these modern monstrosities, Herr Bauer. Where are the Autumn Damasks?”
“Oh, um...” The gardener twisted his hat in his grubby hands. “Master Klaus, that is -”
“I'm afraid the fault is mine, Commander.” Dorian stepped smoothly in, dismissing the poor gardener with a nod. He had his own theory as to why the fragrant flowers had been removed. “While I do love an Old Garden rose, the landscaping around the Schloss needed a bit of updating.”
“You did this?” Commander Eberbach eyed the hardy hedgerow.
“I would never presume,” Dorian demurred. “But I encourage Klaus to consult me on such matters. My own estate is the envy of North Downs.”
“Hmph.” Eberbach senior seemed to mull this over for a moment. Then, without preamble, “What do you think of Klaus' work?”
“I worry about him every day,” Dorian replied truthfully. “At the same time, I know how important his work is to NATO, to Germany , and to the world. I'm proud to be his -” Dorian hesitated, then settled for, “I'm proud of him.”
Commander Eberbach said nothing, but gestured for Dorian to walk with him. A few minutes of comfortable silence ensued as the two visually inspected the garden. After they completed the circuit, the older man turned to Dorian and regarded him appraisingly. Still, he did not speak.
Dorian took a deep breath. In for a penny... “I know I am not the kind of partner you want for your son. But you should know that I love him, and would do anything for him.”
The elder Eberbach shook his head, and Dorian's heart sank.
“On the contrary, Lord Gloria. You are the kind of person I would want for Klaus. With the obvious exception of your gender.”
Dorian was flabbergasted. Luckily for his suddenly weak knees, there was a stone bench nearby for him to collapse onto. He resisted the urge to swoon and instead sat down hard, bruising his tailbone and not caring one whit.
“I'm sorry?”
Commander Eberbach sighed and stared into the distance. “I've had my doubts about Klaus since he was a teenager. Your presence simply confirms them.”
So I'm not the only one, Dorian thought, with giddy bewilderment.
“I had my doubts about you as well, Lord Gloria.” The elder Eberbach settled onto a bench opposite Dorian's. “That you were a feckless playboy, someone who would use Klaus and leave his life in shambles.”
“But that's not true!” Dorian protested, “Since I met Klaus, I -”
The strong hand that was held up to silence him was so like Klaus' that he instantly obeyed. “I know, Lord Gloria. My research this morning was quite thorough. Shall we retire to the drawing room for a drink?”
Only in Schloss Eberbach were background checks acceptable tea-time conversation.
“One more thing, if you please. I - rather, Klaus and I - always assumed you would want an heir.”
“Children are irrelevant.” Commander Eberbach grimaced minutely. “No, that is not what I meant. I want him to be happy, Lord Gloria.” His expression, usually quite serious, became almost grim. “Do you make him happy?”
Those thrice-damned tears made one last bid for freedom.
“I try. God help me, I try.”
--
Klaus had been searching the Schloss for over a quarter of an hour, and his patience for crybaby thieves was wearing thin. As he doubled back to check the kitchens he heard the faint grumbling of his father's voice, followed a familiar laugh, clear as bells. Something twinged in his chest, but he ignored it in favor of throwing open the doors to the drawing room.
“Klaus!” The Earl leapt from his seat on the comfortable divan. He beamed and reached for Klaus' hands with both of his. “There you are, I was beginning to wonder.”
Keenly aware of his father's presence and the need to maintain the charade, Klaus took the Earl's hands. They were soft and a bit slippery, probably from some lotion the fop had layered on. Wherever he found such a thing at Schloss Eberbach, he would never know.
“Liebling,” he said, hoping the word did not betray his aggravation. He eyed Eberbach senior warily. “Vater.”
“I must go,” Commander Eberbach replied brusquely. He was standing by the door, his overcoat draped over one arm. “My bags have been loaded into the car. Dorian and I have been waiting for some time.”
'Dorian'?!? “My apologies, sir. I did not know you would be leaving tonight.” Realizing he was still holding the Earl's hands, he promptly dropped them. “I'll walk you out.”
“That won't be necessary.” Eberbach senior nodded to the Earl, and then turned to Klaus. “Eleven years ago, your cousin Heinrich sired a bastard. The boy's name is Alexander. I will arrange a meeting, so that you may consider him as your heir.”
The words were an enormous weight of his shoulders. He would no longer be expected to wed and impregnate some miserable socialite in order to carry on the family name. Klaus was free.
“As you wish, sir.”
“And I will expect further details on some sort of commitment ceremony by the end of the month.”
“Was?”
Eberbach senior pulled on his coat and gloves as if he had not heard his son's panicked exclamation. “Midwinter will be upon us sooner than you think, and it's best to be prepared. Good day.”
A stunned silence reigned as the elder Eberbach's footsteps receded, and as the front door of the Schloss closed behind him. Klaus turned, only to find the Earl halfway out of the drawing room window.
“EROICA!” He pounced and, seizing the back of the thief's shirt, hauled him back into the room. He then spun the other man around and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Please, darling,” the Earl whimpered. “Don't kill me.”
“What did you do?”
“Only what you asked me to do, Major!” The Earl began to struggle ineffectually. “It's not my fault if, by some miracle, he approves of me!”
“Miracle? Ha!” Klaus gripped tighter, no doubt leaving bruises on the Earl's fair skin. “More like a curse!”
The Earl suddenly stopped resisting. “You got what you wanted, Major. Can I go, now?”
This caught Klaus completely off-guard. Usually, he couldn't pry the Earl away with a crowbar. And now he was begging to leave? Klaus reverted to his default position in times of confusion - intelligence gathering.
“Why? What are you hiding from me?”
“Nothing.”
“How did you convince my father that we...” Somehow he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. He settled for a comprehensive glower.
A small smile quirked the Earl's lips. “You won't like the answer.”
“Tell me!” He resisted shaking the Earl, but it was a near thing.
“Simple,” Dorian sighed. “I told him that I love you.”
For the first time, Klaus did not scoff at the foppish declaration. He looked directly into those wide blue eyes … and saw the truth there. He didn't want it to be there. He didn't want it to be somewhere inside himself, either. And he was irked that his father had once again outwitted him, and had seen it first.
But he had one last stratagem at his disposal. One that every solider knows, and knows when to employ.
“That's a good answer,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to Dorian's.
Klaus surrendered.
END