Love's Fools

by FoxyG

One is deluded, the other is blind. KxD

2. Klaus' Confusion

A/N: It's weird writing Klaus when he's not acting like Klaus. Not that he's OOC; he's just very much off his game in this, essentially, and lacks his usual fire because of it. You'll see what I mean. Tell me how I did, though.

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God, what did I just get into.

I'm going through the list of who to blame; it keeps going back to myself. Dorian is still on there, though. The stubborn twit made me stupid, and I've been stupid for months. Maybe even years. But at least I'm not a coward anymore.

It must've been that damn scarf. The fop probably doesn't even remember, which makes me feel even worse about it.

One day the office was completely empty; as usual it was one of those minor holidays that slackers used as an excuse for a day off of work. I came in anyway, since I had paper work to take care of and knew there was nothing better to do on a day off. Not to mention I liked the silence of the office. Without all the Alphabets wanking off it's easier to concentrate.

All was going well enough, until Mr. Chaos himself sneaked his way in. He had to make me look stupid by standing over my shoulder, too, waiting for me to notice.

"My goodness, that's a lot of paperwork for one agent."

I nearly jumped out of my skin; my usual senses weren't quite with me that day, obviously. But that was the last thing on my mind as the Earl gave me a cocky look. He was feeling damn good about himself that he managed to scare me, I'm sure.

For some odd reason I wasn't shocked by his presence. By now I think I've gotten used to the inevitability of us meeting. Just when I'm close to erasing the fop from my mind he makes another appearance, to my obvious disdain.

"What in God's name are you doing here?"

Shit. I want to slap myself whenever I think it, but he looked... good that day. Of course it only hit me after he left. It wasn't his particular garb, nor did he look particularly different. It was something about his demeanor that seemed more vibrant--for lack of a better term.

But as I said before, these thoughts came only afterward. At that point in time I was too irritated to notice anything as trivial as that. To have my peace interrupted was one thing, and another was to also have to deal with the most maddening person I've ever had to know.

"I came to bid you a happy Good Friday, but..." he frowned, "It seems you're not exactly celebrating. Not even in the church napping?"

I scowled, "If you don't have any God damned business being here--"

"Business, love? I'm on holiday, just like every other normal person in Europe."

I snorted, "Normal people wouldn't have to take a holiday off from gallivanting around the world."

He smiled with a little titter, "True," he looked at me lazily, "I suppose I did just use it as an excuse to come see you."

In an instant... something in me faded, and remains faded to this day. That something wasn't my temper with the thief, as it's still evident. And it wasn't my contempt, as I still loathe him in many ways. I've surmised by now that it may have been something I didn't even realize I had--it was some defense I had put up against Dorian's charm. I can't help but cringe at the thought. I don't like to think of it as him winning me with his little manipulation techniques, so I like to think of it as more something that just suddenly caught up to me.

Why it happened in that moment, I can't explain.

This didn't come from the stupid thing he said; God no. But as he said it, he was fiddling with a scarf around his neck, or whatever the hell it was. Some voluminous thing I can't see any use for. I'm unsure if he did this intentionally, but as I watched him do this, my eyes strayed automatically to his neck. I can't say why it appealed to me, but my body reacted against my will.

In that moment, any sharpness I had was gone for a split second. Despite this, I came to in a moment. I frowned deeply, "Come cause trouble for me, you mean."

He sighed--not in a half-hearted, theatrical way, either. That was another thing about Dorian that day. His elaborate act of a mischievous, lecherous thief was weaker than usual. He let legitimacy slip through the cracks of that egotistical barrier of his.

Hmph. As if I should be speaking about egotistical barriers.

"I merely meant to see if you were well. I knew if I phoned that you would probably hang up or refuse to speak with me," he frowned--this time a theatrical pout.

I scowled, "What's your real reason for coming here?" At this point I was in-between believing what he was saying and doubting him severely.

"Major, must you always suspect malicious intentions of me? I'm not always against you, after all." His eyes wheeled up to the ceiling, "I can recall many instances where I've come through for you."

"Pfft," I did it loudly enough so that he would be put off--it worked, "Perhaps in your own deluded world. Every time we work together you somehow manage to screw me over."

Dorian sighed again, "You win on that part, I suppose. But I assure you, this time I'm without any more reason than to see you." He looked me straight in the eyes. I blinked.

"You came here to annoy me, didn't you?"

He let out a strange, yet genuine laugh... what would be his fop word for it? Melodious? It caused my stomach to lurch, either way, and I have to admit that I'm unsure if it was out of contempt or attraction to the sound.

"Major, you know me too well," he gave me a look--that lecherous look of his--before he did something that I didn't know until then he had the damn bollocks to do.

The damn degenerate kissed my cheek!

It shocked me to the point of freezing, so he had the chance to get away. He was too far away to choke by the time I yelled, "You sick deviant!" He let out a laugh at that, opening one of the office's windows. I ran to it just as he escaped, shouting out, "INTERPOL WILL HAVE YOUR ARSE BY TONIGHT! MARK MY WORDS!"

There was but an echo of a laugh before he was out of sight.

I punched a wall. Then I hit it again, harder after imagining it was Dorian's cocky face. Breathing through my teeth I walked back to my desk and slumped down on my chair. He ruined my whole day within the space of a few minutes.

The worst of feelings came after my temper settled itself. After I remembered just what he had done, I felt all prickly down my spine. That sickened me, so I went into the washroom to splash cold water on myself.

Just as I came back, however, I noticed something sitting on my desk. The damn scarf.

I stared at it, then grimaced. The repulsive nitwit either left it there to mock me, taking it off while I was in a state of shock, or was fiddling with it so much like a damn child that it got loose and fell off.

Prickly feelings suddenly back, I grabbed the thing and threw it into the trash bin. I smiled a bit afterwards, imagining the face he would have if he knew where that scarf went. He probably paid a load for it.

Stupidly enough, I was curious at the time to see what material it was made out of--so I could assess just how much money the fop wasted on it. I took it out of the bin, then began to feel the contours of it. It was soft, very soft, and liquid-like in movement. I sneered, "Silk." Figured. Only the finest for the Earl. Most of what he wore was probably that fabric--at least if he had to choose.

That was a strange day for me, to say the least. I don't think I was working quite right at all, because those train of thoughts somehow made me remember all the ridiculous outfits Dorian's worn over the years. Was he wearing silk when I first met him? No--well, maybe that scarf he wore was...

I gasped, dropping the scarf. Only a minute later I shook my head at my overreaction to the discovery. It was the same scarf.

It was stupid of me to be so surprised over it. He probably had dozens of them, and decided to wear that one for no particular reason. Or because he hasn't worn it in give or take seven years.

Or perhaps I was just assuming too much. It wasn't like it was a very special looking scarf. A solid color and without any adornments. It could very well be a different scarf than what he wore then, I figured, just the same color.

Of course, I knew it was the same. I felt it in my gut.

I scowled. Suddenly the craziest thoughts came to my mind. Maybe he did intend to leave the scarf, and intended it to be this scarf. He wanted to screw with my mind. He did come just to do that, after all.

I huffed and threw it away again.

Only a moment later, however, my mind got the best to me again. The scarf felt a tad warm, I realized. I remembered where the scarf had just been--on Dorian's bare skin. Strange prickly feelings came back.

Cursing, I picked it out of the bin again. I felt it again, then felt heat rise to my face. Dear God, was I blushing?!

It felt warm. How long had Dorian been gone for? I looked at my clock. It had only been five minutes. I blinked. Why was I still thinking about him?! I should've been trying to get him out of my head by now.

I cursed again, threw away the scarf for the last time and got ready to leave the office. I wouldn't have gotten any work done with my mind jetting off to such random places.

Of course, my mind didn't stop as I left the office. On the way home to work, I was jolted back to stupidity as I saw a red lamborgini on the road. I almost thought it was Dorian, but shook it quickly out of my mind. It was going far too slow to be Dorian.

When I got home, I went straight to my liquor cabinet. My hand happened to graze over a bottle. I took it out and blew the dust off of it. It was a bottle of Moselle. God. I cursed the stupid coincidence before putting it back where it was.

With a shot glass and my strongest booze I walked into the next room. Mr. Pumpkin Pants was there to greet me. Sheisse.

I looked up at the painting--truly analyzing it for the first time in possibly my whole life. I was indeed in a strange mood. But it would only get stranger as a thought crossed my mind. Was Dorian here before he snuck into my office?

I called my butler. "Was the Earl here earlier?"

His eyebrows raised, "No, sir. Why? Is he in Bonn?"

To my shame I flushed again, looking away, "No reason." He probably felt a little startled by my abrupt reply, and so excused himself and left.

I sat down heavily on an armchair and scruffed up my hair. I was getting a headache and realized my stomach felt strange. I went upstairs to take a nap. Something I rarely do, but I figured there was not much better to do when I was feeling so odd.

I was about to sing myself to sleep when suddenly I remembered the most trivial of details of when I was abducted by Mischa in Alaska. Dorian's face after ripping that painting. Genuinely enervated, rather than all puffed up like he usually is. Vulnerable.

Prickly feelings came again. I had to figure out some way to get rid of that retched feeling. I moved my shoulders about, stretched out all of my body--but that would only work for a second. I sighed and collapsed into bed again.

Luckily I had brought my booze with me. I took a shot, then another... I suddenly remembered that time when Dorian got absolutely sloshed after only a couple drinks. I smirked, then remembered the result of that incident. I completely kept my eyes off Dorian the whole time he danced, obviously trying my best to compromise with that damn oil tycoon over the Lubyanka papers, but for an instant I was obviously forced to look.

Stupidity. Why did I suddenly think of that? The worst possible thing to think of. Dorian half naked and dancing--why then? Why at all? More stupidity--I remember he was dancing like an idiot to try and get my attention in the first place. A stupid attention whore... but... my stupid attention whore.

I spit out the shot I had just taken. I literally did think that, only to reread it over and over again to see if it truly crossed my mind. I felt sick to my stomach. Then I felt weak and shaky. I had to get rid of these thoughts, fast.

I rushed into my bathroom, disrobed and stepped into an ice cold shower. I scrubbed my face and my hair, just to busy myself. After I stepped out I was shivering, but it wasn't the deep shake that was rattling my bones earlier. I felt slightly better, especially since I resolved not to think before singing myself to sleep.

This was an odd spell I had. They came frequently to me in the next following months, but they were not nearly as long. Mere, fleeting thoughts in comparison. But there was a change. Not enough for anyone to notice, of course. Enough for myself to realize I was altered invariably in thought.

The simplest things began to remind me of Dorian. For once I could not manage to erase him out of my mind before he made an appearance again. I had begun to become so good at it, too, only to completely lose the precious ability to forget. Then, rather than these new thoughts being mere observations, they came with sometimes confusing, strong feelings. Sometimes I felt irrepressibly annoyed--as if he was standing right in front of me with a cocky smirk on his face. Sometimes they were just... confounding. Ones that I can't even figure out. Suddenly I would just feel lost or depressed--things I never feel on a regular basis.

Luckily, as I said, they were short feelings and were gone as I was jolted back to reality. These strange bouts of nostalgia weren't evident enough to catch any outside attention, only through my effort to act normal. But perhaps they have, and the Alphabets have been too quiet about it for me to hear it in their conversations. I think work was a blessing to have, otherwise I may have gone more insane than I already was going.

I didn't see Dorian again until the cruise ship mission. I really was keeping a lot from him. Most of the mission was a complete set up, just to arrest a KGB spy working for NATO. Of course I detested such overly drawn out missions, just for the mere sake of arresting a spy that was right in the palm of our hands--but the Chief insisted I don't be so brash about the arrest. "She is a woman, afterall," he had said. Hmph. Not to mention they had a feeling she wasn't a mere pawn of the KGB; perhaps a special agent. Which meant it would take more to arrest her and get the information we wanted.

In reality, I was given the mission months earlier, before I was told to call Eroica in for it. I was informed that Natasha Fuchs was a spy for the KGB. She had begun to work for NATO some time prior, so we had only just found out when I was assigned the mission. We needed to know exactly what she was doing, what we could get from her back once we detained her, but most of all we needed to first move her into a more controllable section of NATO. My division, but not under my rule. I was told to keep an eye on her while more intel was acquired.

I truly wish it was a man. Not in a perverted way, of course--but because she was such a slag. And I truly wondered how they couldn't figure out she was Russian before. Her German accent was good enough, of course, but that voice was absolutely startling. She was so skinny and gaunt, too.

She had been coming on to me throughout the course of months. Quite the source of annoyance. She's even outright grabbed at my crotch! She was worse than Dorian. Of course, she backed off slightly after that, as I insinuated that if she try anything like that again that she would receive a bloody stump in place of a hand. I couldn't be forwardly disgusted with her moves, though. I didn't know what this mission would eventually call for, and didn't want to make her all huffy over me at being rejected. I had been playing apathetic to ever so slightly friendly up until then.

I rather dreaded the day Dorian would find out about her. Such thoughts only came in passing, of course. At the time I didn't I care if he would get upset. Despite any of his hopes, we didn't have anything at all that would make his jealousy justified. I felt dread only because it would make him catty towards her, which embarrasses me a little, I have to admit.

I've been quite aware how me and Dorian's relationship can be looked at for years. Just because I absolutely loathe it doesn't mean I'm an idiot about it. Dorian's flagrant homosexuality with my contempt for females is enough to make any idiot jump to conclusions. What they don't realize is I loathe Dorian far more than women; in fact, I don't even loathe all women. Just the ones that come onto me so presumptuously.

Besides that, I was more afraid that Dorian would paint me gay as he has been doing for the past years, now in front of Natasha. And by the time it came around for his part in the mission, I came to realize it would come down to me--I choke at the word--essentially seducing Natasha. It would leave the seasoned spy at her most vulnerable, and she seemed more than interested, to my disdain.

For once I could avoid Dorian turning my mission awry, and I would damn well see to it. I would not let Dorian make me look like I was gay.

Of course, plans for this only lead me to think more about Dorian. My stomach felt strange the day Dorian was to come in to meet me in my office. He got his first impression of Natasha there.

There was a spark in him again. It was hard to act normally around him, but I could concentrate on briefing him on the mission, so I managed it then. Natasha walked in and left, acting more subtle than usual. It was probably because there were people around. She's quite good at being two-faced. She would be the most degrading woman on the face of this earth if she happened to catch me alone, but outside that she appeared very respectable and genial. Perhaps she knew from the KGB I didn't appreciate showing off; though I would call it a failure on the KGB's part for the fact that they didn't realize I didn't appreciate inappropriate come-ons even more.

As she left me, Dorian's look had significantly soured. I almost enjoyed the poisonous look he was sending her. I shudder now to think why. The word for it is like vomit in my mouth, but I'll say it anyway--cute. It was cute. And it used to annoy me so, just like all of his looks.

But I had to act normally, so I quickly brushed him off as he made catty remarks. Perhaps intentionally egging them on as well.

The day to board the cruise ship came. The whole thing was a set up, so I figured it wouldn't be important to really play the role all that much. I was tempted to tell Dorian the whole plan more than once, but I remembered that he really had no reason to know until the time came for him to play his part. Not to mention that I couldn't fully trust him with all the information on the mission. He's been liable to do things his own way before.

I distanced myself from Dorian. Emotionally, that is. I haven't been able to escape that fop physically before, so I opted for the next level of distancing. I became less inclined to pay attention to his antics, and therefore less inclined to fuel them further on. I excused it as both something essential for the mission's success, but also an effective way to avoid terrible Dorian experiences in the future.

Truly, I realize now, I was doing it to protect myself from acting like a fool. I suddenly felt very backwards around Dorian. It's not as though he suddenly didn't annoy me, or that I couldn't get angry with him, but... the proper word for it is confounding me, but I can only say I felt a... pleasant twinge whenever he wasn't being a complete idiot. I also felt more weak and dazed, which was strange as well. I almost thought I had a bug until I took my temperature and realized I was fine.

I was afraid such new feelings would effect my speech or behavior significantly, so I hid it. Whenever Dorian said something frivolous, I met it with a straight face, as if I didn't hear him. Whenever he tried to tease me, I met it with a cool look before turning away. Whenever he flirted with me, I absolutely pretended I didn't notice. I didn't yell at him at all, I think, throughout the whole cruise ship ride.

That distancing was broken in one incident, thought, at least.

The man showed up in swimming garments at my door. It rather threw off all my senses, so I completely forgot what I was doing and acted as I usually would act.

I realized afterwards that without my tactic, I was acting fairly normal around Dorian. Just plain peeved. That is, until it was lost in one instant. The sunlight hit him just right, a bit of his robe came off... as soon as my eyes moved off of his annoying face and I saw all of him, I was speechless.

Luckily I wasn't so senseless to see that he had noticed. I quickly slammed the door, to avoid him thinking too much more about it.

The cruise ship's stupid party was that night. I haven't been to a party in ages; I always avoid the ones my father wants to drag me to. All he does is take me over to bachelorette to bachelorette, none of whom are anything for stimulating conversation. I would've insulted all those senseless hens on the spot if my father hadn't been watching me like a hawk, so I had to endure all their nonsensical gossiping until I could excuse myself to the bar. Inevitably my father would catch me there and the process would start all over again. As I realized this scene would happen every single time, I began to make up excuses not to go to the parties he offered to me.

This being a luxury cruise, I expected to see many upper-class, possibly single women there. It made me rather sick. Luckily, I wouldn't be forced to associate with them. Just one woman, and I would be done with her by the end of the night--Natasha.

I wanted to make sure I'd get the information on the microfilm from her by that night, and then arrest her. I could do that by making her comfortable, then surprising her. That way she couldn't pull any tricks on us and escape. But what was essential to that is secrecy. I had to get her elsewhere. Not cause a scene in her arrest. If she had anyone from the KGB as back up attending the party, they would either cause trouble or send word back that she had been apprehended. That would complicate things immensely, and so she would have to be arrested elsewhere.

If that private place ended up being her bedroom, fine; I could endure some minor molestation if it would end up with her captured. It was supposed to go smoothly. Seduce Natasha enough to her bedroom. Arrest her. Get information on the microfilm. Have Eroica procure the microfilm. End of mission, and I can go home.

Little did I realize--and how stupid I am to have not thought of it before--nothing will go smoothly if it involves Dorian in it.

I wasn't nervous at the party. Just begrudging whenever I should make my move on Natasha. I figured I should booze myself up a bit---so that I was a bit more relaxed. Sickeningly enough, however, women began to move towards me. One dowager, who had to be some ten years older than me--she had a damn grey streak through her hair--was particularly obnoxious.

"Oh, my, so you're German?" she drawled, and I could tell she was American. I had just told her said something in German, hoping it would make her go away. "Do-you-speak-English?" she said slowly, now, as if I was a retard.

"Yes. I just said you look like an old horse chewing on some cud when you talk." I said, taking another sip of my drink.

Expectedly she gasped, calling me some name before stomping off.

I felt someone else behind me, so I turned around, feeling something leap inside me as Dorian he sat down next to me. I could easily say I was relieved to see him, so I said it, the booze making me feel a bit more loose with my tongue.

In comparison to women, I suppose at times Dorian does annoy me less. He doesn't always talk about useless, frivolous things with me. And sometimes I think he only forgets that I detest such talk to annoy me.

We talked a bit before Natasha interrupted. After she asked for a dance, I realized it would certainly be the best chance to charge right in. Though something, for a moment, made me hesitate.

I knew Dorian was simmering. Boiling, even. He didn't need to vocalize it, and I didn't even need to see it. If Dorian could get jealous over nuns, then this woman would make him a monster.

I didn't realize then what was needed to avoid catastrophe. I'd been too busy worrying about what Dorian's jealousy might simply look like--not what the jealousy itself could ultimately cause. I took her hand and we were on the dance floor.

I hate dancing. Her perfume was far too strong, too. But soon I concentrated on my mission as we began to talk.

"The Earl, is... um..." Natasha smiled coyly. I hate it when women do that. "Not very fond of me, wouldn't you say?"

"He loathes you." I answered cooly.

She laughed, "Why is that?"

"He's... in love with me." I said with a shrug. That doesn't make ME gay, necessarily, so I figured that it was self-evident enough anyway.

"Oh," she said, not as though it surprised her. The KGB knew he was homosexual already, after all. "I can see why. You're a very handsome man, Major."

"Klaus," I said, resisting the temptation to roll my eyes. I knew it would've been a very good idea to compliment her back, but... I've never been good with ad-libbing such things on the spot. My "stately" comment was thought up before the party, and it would've looked stupid to repeat it.

"Klaus," she seemed satisfied enough at that privilege, at least, "Do you know anything about the microfilm yet?"

"You know as much as I do as of now," I raised an eyebrow, "I'm working on it. Why?"

She gave me another coy look, "Well... I might know where it is."

Now, I knew she was a tart, but I didn't think she was stupid. The KGB would not hire a woman spy if they knew she was stupid enough to spill the beans to whoever she happened to fancy. She was up to something--utilizing whatever sexual charms she and the KGB thinks she has.

Of course. She was here not only to pass on information via microfilm, but also to kill me. My, my, my. The KGB must not have their head on straight if they think a woman is what can defeat Iron Klaus.

With a renewed sense of confidence, I asked what would be expected of me, "Why didn't you tell anyone this earlier?"

"I... thought we might discuss it over wine, Klaus," she smiled.

I smirked, which seemed to serve well in convincing her I was interested, but was really just my reaction to realizing I had truly hit the nail on the head. "That could be arranged," I said to her.

Wine to poison me with? I won't risk drinking it then, I suppose. Or maybe she'd try a knife or a gun at the back of me, so I'll keep an eye on her as soon as we're out of the crowd.

The feeling of success began to well up inside me, so I led her away to seal the deal. I would've cringed earlier at the thought of a kiss, but I realized I would only have to do it once, just to make everything convincing.

The scene was shattered before me, however. Everything went to shambles as soon as Dorian broke that glass in front of us.

I was shocked, looking on at his back as he left. Just fucking left. That petulant nitwit didn't even realize how he had just sabotaged everything. Everyone in the room was looking at us, Natasha was as shocked as I was--though seemed a bit more offended--and ALL the Alphabets at once began to panic because they're a pack of bloody idiots who don't know when to keep a low profile.

Only two things could have happened after that. I could go off with Natasha anyway, while in a fitful temper Dorian leaves the mission, thereby possibly ruining our chances of getting the microchip. Or I could go after Dorian, punch him silly for being such an idiot and threaten him to stay on the mission, while Natasha escapes, since she was well aware she just incriminated herself by saying she knew where the microchip was.

I knew he would quit the mission. I won't pretend I don't know the man well. Dorian's never been that upset before, and he just publicly humiliated himself and damn well knew it; that together leads to him being a bloody coward. He was already running away from the scene.

I realized I should have the Alphabets split responsibilities with me. They were needed to arrest Natasha. They're definitely too stupid to wheel Dorian back to reality. The answer was obvious after that thought.

With one hand to keep Natasha, I yelled for the Alphabets, "Arrest her, now!"

If we didn't have the whole room's attention before, we certainly had it now. I left as soon as they surrounded her. We were missing a few prudently-thinking idiots who had gone after Dorian, but she was definitely outnumbered.

"Keep her. Try to get anything out of her before I get back. Don't call for me." I was too pissed off to interview a woman. I don't have the lack of moral fiber to beat the intel out of her, and that's all I felt like doing--like beating up anyone, really.

If any KGB agents were watching, they certainly had an interesting report to send back.

I trampled anyone on my way to Dorian, too pissed off to see more than a haze in front of me. I got to where he was by hearing the Alphabets talking.

"Get back to the others, you bloody imbeciles," I ordered, "We've arrested Natasha."

"Sir--he might quit the mission." Bloody G. Of course he was there.

"He fucking won't after I beat the living shit out of him," I made it evident enough that I wanted them out of there, so they quickly left after that.

I walked in. I was still pissed off, even when I saw Dorian's beaten look. He looked... pathetic. Like some mock-Dorian that couldn't nearly pass off as real. He wasn't bloated enough to be real. His eyes were puffy, his hair was a mess--he looked as though he just weathered a storm. His pomp was all used up; or so it seemed.

Except that he tried to paint it as though he wasn't pathetic.

"Send Ms. Fuchs home? Pity, I would have figured her father would give her an extra hour out for your date." Even in this condition he had to attempt that stupid act of his.

I had to call him what he was for that. "You're an idiot."

I suddenly hated him. He was so upset over what? Crying in a broom closet all for what? Someone who wants nothing to do with him. Someone who's despised him from day one. He's pathetic. I wanted to slap him for getting so upset.

What did I do to deserve such a frustrating state of affairs? Why me?

"Why me?" I asked, not that he could answer it.

"Pardon?"

"Why am I cursed with an over possessive fop shadowing me?"

I was a bit surprised by his brazen answer. "Because you're cursed just as I am with an insensitive boor."

I suppose he got points for being parallel. But not for a small detail. I never chose to annoy the shit out of him, as he was implying. "I hardly follow you around."

"It's a different curse I've been dealt with." Fuck with the dramatics. Why did he bother with it anymore.

"Please, don't start a speech on romance. I don't care for theatrics tonight." Though I had enough already.

He scowled, in a way that I could tell was genuine, at least, "You're wrong if you think I'd lock myself up in a supply closet just for the sake of attention."

Hmph. As if he's never done anything stranger before for that sake. "I tend to differ. Isn't it the perfect ending after making a scene in the middle of a ballroom?"

"Major, your bullying has no point to it anymore. You can hurt me no further than you have already."

Selfish. Always selfish. Always about him.

"You think that satisfies me? You've sabotaged my mission. You're not getting off that easily with your damned self pity."

"So you're going to berate me? Spare me. I'm not a part of your Alphabet." And that git apparently had the balls to wave me off. Like a pissy secretary or some snot nosed teenager.

I grabbed his hand. First mistake. I was too pissed off to think properly, though. "Who the hell do you think you are--" I was going to ask, but was interrupted by a certain idiot.

"Who the hell do you think you are?!" He's really weaker than he looks. He tried to pull at me but I scarcely budged. "I'm here more as a favor to you, Major! Money means nothing to me!"

I could've laughed at that. "Please! You're here to oggle me and push my buttons! That's all it's been to you!" I knew that wasn't true. But I also knew it had a good chance of hurting him, which was my new aim in mind.

His laugh was rather searing. I barely hear anything like that from him, so some of his comments then were rather surprising. "Believe me, love, if that had been all I wanted I would've gotten bored with you long ago. You truly are predictable to a certain point, and I'm a man of changing interests."

He was pissing me off more, so I moved my thumb to a point where my vice grip would really fucking hurt. Something I learned outside of military training.

"Major," a kitten could've giggled at that voice of his; was he trying to threaten me? "You're hurting me."

"Good." I tightened my grip. Stupidly, I looked at his face while doing it. Only that idiot could manage to look completely... attractive still while in pain. It gave me the prickly feeling.

"My tolerance for pain has gone up since I've had to be around you." More theatric crap.

"You've only done that to yourself." I had him in a damn vice grip and he still wouldn't stop with the games. I twisted his wrist, "You just never know when to quit."

He smirked. I rather liked the way it looked until he opened his mouth. "I've never known the true pleasures of S&M before meeting you, Major."

I slapped him. Hard. It pissed me off that his theatrics only got worse when he was under such stress.

I felt all my veins pulsing. Yet I couldn't help notice how when Dorian's hair was in a mess, with sweat rolling down his face, he still managed to look so good. It pissed me off more. I took the chance to calm down a bit when he had his face to the ground. I was really close to hitting him again, just to get the weird feelings out of me.

"I've had enough of you." On top of being furious, I was now confused.

"I'm beginning to feel the same way." That struck me somehow. Even I could realize that Dorian was genuine in his like for me, even if it was never mutual. He couldn't have lost that just by a slap like that, could he? Maybe he was just blowing hot air again, but at this point I couldn't be sure.

"I've done worse than this to you before."

"You haven't. What you're doing now? Yes. What you did tonight put all together is what I'm speaking of."

Nitwit. Stupid. Idiot. Imbecile. All those words and a plethora more like them aren't strong enough to describe Dorian then. How could he still be on about that woman?! She's the most trivial part of this whole argument. "You're an idiot."

"So I've heard."

I'd had enough. Fuck it. "If I was really so damn cozy with that woman, why in God's name would I be here now?!"

"I don't know, Major; you're a complicated man. Why don't you tell me?"

... How could he not know? How could he not have realized it by now? I thought he knew me. I thought he was somewhat perceptive. Why the fuck else would someone argue with another person for so long in a God damn supply closet?!

I realized, then, that I didn't even know.

Until I looked down at Dorian.

Shit... no. Please, God, no.

Oh, but I'm not an idiot. I'm just stupid. I'm not an idiot enough to deny that I'm completely, and stupidly in love with Dorian.

The only emotion that sprang up was frustration. Frustration with myself for not realizing it. Frustration at myself for letting it happen. Frustration at myself for letting Dorian do this to me. Frustration at my fucking luck.

I'm at a loss to explain what happened next. I kissed him, too frustrated to tell him in words, and all control was lost there. It was stupid. I should've known that as soon as I did it I would get completely aroused and wouldn't be able to control myself from going further. But I couldn't speak; I could only act.

I'm too busy thinking about everything else to fully register what I had just done with Dorian in a supply closet. I'll file it in the back of my mind, though.

Dorian's made me stupid. I've made myself stupid. I get those stupid feelings back whenever Dorian looks completely beautiful. He looks beautiful now. He's genuinely happy that I just gave up all my inhibitions for him. Whether or not that's a good thing I'll decide later.

"What's that strange look on your face?" he says in the most placid expression I've seen him with.

"What look?" I pretend to not know what he's talking about.

"I don't know; I was asking you."

"S'nothing." I won't give him the satisfaction of being called anything nice. He knows it too much himself already.

I can't help looking at him again, though. Now he's returning it with a look that's extremely perverted. He crawls over on all fours, giving me a kiss.

Shit. He's making me more stupid.