Written: Spring 2002
A lock clicked. The blond grinned and eased the door open gently, rising and turning back to find the major startlingly close. He instantly labeled the intimidation tactic 'intimacy', smiled again. The German clamped down on his shoulders and forced him two steps to the right.
"Go home," Klaus mouthed, pointing at the open window to make his order absolutely clear. Eroica nodded, stooped to pick up his tools as the Major slipped into the darkened hallway. At the window he paused, then shook his head to clear it. Swiftly, the thief closed the window and followed his Major into the dark.
* * *
Perhaps because he hadn't compromised the mission, or because the safe lock had been harder than the Major had anticipated, Dorian had not yet been yelled at for disobedience. Nor threatened, nor hit, and Klaus even seemed to expect company on the ride back to Bonn. At least, he didn't speed off the second he got into the nondescript 'company' car.
He got in without looking, though, and Dorian felt the temptation to hang back and see if the Major would even wait for him. But he never would, and Dorian knew it without trying. Except that he had waited before, hadn't he? Which only proved to Dorian that like the odder particles of the universe, Major Eberbach did things differently when he knew he was being watched. He slid easily into the passenger seat, and turned to smile at the Major as he shut the door. "Thank you for waiting, darling."
The burgled file was deposited summarily in his hands, as though he were one of the Major's alphabets. Eroica allowed himself just a moment of irritance - he hadn't made a name for himself as NATO's lackey, after all. The Major should at least keep in mind what a colossal headache he was capable of being. Klaus started the car, still wearing the thin cotton gloves.
Dorian stripped his own off, then angled the manila folder to look at it. So very dull and ordinary. He couldn't imagine such a little thing being worth so much fuss, really. It wasn't pretty, or antique, or worth anything, and couldn't hold more than a dozen sheets of equally boring paper out of someone's filing cabinet. It didn't matter at all to him what was in it, and Klaus likely didn't care either. But if he tried to read it, he was sure...but there could hardly be any harm in testing, just a little.
Slanting a glance at the Major, Dorian turned the file and opened it to the cover page. "Close that. You are not authorized." Eroica caught a glimpse of red stamping that said the same, before shutting the file again with a sigh. He traced the rounded edge of the folder down, yelping in surprise when it cut into his finger.
"Ow! Dammit!" Klaus, he noted for that small list of hopeful signs, glanced over quickly. To see him sucking on the wounded digit, he added to the larger list of things he hadn't meant to let the Major know about. "Papercut," he admitted when Klaus didn't seem to be turning back to the road.
The German snorted, looking away again. "You make everything into a production. That is why I hate you." The last time it had been because he had no sense of decency, and Dorian wondered if Klaus was keeping lists too.
"You should talk," he said, watching the blood well again. "I could have gotten this file in broad daylight and left in a taxi! You could have. It wasn't an embassy building or the Vatican. But we had to do it at night, with surveillance and your silly gadgets." Surely Klaus would have a handkerchief on him somewhere. Dorian glanced over furtively and scanned him for pockets. "What do you do when you run out of batteries?"
"We needed the file. Just the file. And this work... it is most appropriate for night."
Dorian had never been good at resisting temptation. "Sordid and shameful? Oh, darling, it's just more fun that way."
The Major's hands predictably clenched on the steering wheel. Dorian watched the play of muscle under the gloves, and allowed himself a tiny smirk, just one more jab. "Lovely to be in agreement for once, don't you think, Major?" he purred.
Klaus opened his mouth. Then closed it again. Then dropped a handkerchief in Dorian's lap and managed to be both minding the road and very far away from Dorian's side of the car. Eroica bit his lip against the expected, but no easier, declaration that "if you so much as touch me, faggot, I will throw you out through the fucking windshield."
Dorian twisted a corner of the cloth around his finger, watching it bleed into the white. The car sped on, exactly parallel to the lines on the road, exactly at speed on the deserted road. "I thought so too," he sighed.