The first time that Dorian Red Gloria, Earl of Gloria and the internationally celebrated art thief Eroica ever really, truly saw Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach as anything else than an pervading irritation, with a horribly loud voice and an overwhelming fondness of guns was, ironically, in a larger version of the same weapons that the Major toted around with him. The tank had been a sleek, polished silver, and there had been a young man between them. Caesar Gabriel, with his long brilliantly blonde hair and icy blue eyes, had been, with his slender limbs and docile demeanour, more Dorian's alleged type than the irritated Major. They had been hugging each other to keep him warm- that is to say, Dorian had been hugging the Major. The other man had insisted on keeping his arms at a Puritan distance from Dorian's form.
But with the impatient request- no, order- for conversation, the Major had turned the tables on Dorian. He had a nice baritone, really. Dorian had remembered being surprised at having unearthed this unexpected fact. A good strong baritone, to perfectly match the song the uplifting lyrics of the Panzer March. And it was in that moment, where the Major had closed his eyes and sung with a confidence born of great practice- solitary practice perhaps, but practice none the less- that Dorian understood the Major.
He had seen the Major before- the other man had vaguely pleased his aesthetic senses, with his long limbs and finely featured face. But dark strong men weren't Dorian's type, and he had dismissed the Major before as having been regrettably not given a charming personality to suit his face. But with his guard down, and the other side of his personality revealed, the Major had become, quite suddenly, a fascinating, mesmerising thing to observe, infinitely more interesting than the huddled wraith between their arms, of which littered the world in surprisingly large amounts.
Yes, the Major was something new; a novelty which should be duly explored.
The song ended, and Dorian had asked him about it. An adorable frown had creased the Major's forehead then; Dorian had a feeling that the Major was only frowning because he had an idea that he should.
"..the only sort of song I know," the Major was been saying. And Dorian had realised then with a start that he hadn't been paying attention. What lovely eyes the man had; all deep green and fringed with dark lashes.
They had talked a little more after that. Dorian had charm, and he exercised it by subtly persuading the Major to talk. He had been relaxed then, as relaxed, that was, as he could ever be. And then Dorian had laid his head on his shoulder, and he had felt the muscles tense again.
"Let's not get too cosy," he had said, glaring at him. Dorian gave him a sleepy smile.
"But we're in a truce," he had said.
"I get nauseous when degenerates like you come on to me," the words had been uttered abrasively, but Dorian detected an underlying current of what he had not been able to understand, but had liked very much.
"But I," he had said, smiling again. "feel simply divine."
"Yeah right, you degenerate," the Major did not stop Dorian from laying his head down again.
"I'll have you arrested the second my men get here," he continued, looking down at the soft blonde head. And seeing the Dorian had closed his eyes and was not looking at him, he had let his face soften into an unreadable expression. "You'll never get to talk this sort of rubbish again."
But as he said the words, his arms, which had been held apart from Dorian's form before, closed in softly on his sleek arms. They were very warm, and Dorian's chilled flesh responded accordingly. The Major didn't speak, but that was alright. He hesitated for a minute, then his fingers tightened and pulled Dorian ever so slightly closer. And Dorian had thought that that was alright too.