“Don't look at me like that,” Major Klaus von dem Eberbach growled.
Eroica, aka Dorian Red Gloria, the Earl of Gloria, widened is eyes and touched his chest delicately. Me?
“It's not NATO's fault you went and got yourself strangled by a rouge FBI agent. If you had just kept your damn nose out of my business, none of this would've happened.”
In retaliation, Eroica pouted. Really, that's a bit harsh.
The Major puffed at his cigarette, ignoring the hospital's helpful signs suggesting that he “Please Refrain from Smoking.” He didn't know why he was here, visiting the fop. By all accounts he should be on a flight back to Bonn, his latest misadventures with Eroica already a distant, purposefully forgotten memory.
One memory, in particular, he was more than ready to block out entirely. Eroica was pinned beneath that behemoth American, struggling for air. Thick fingers were digging into his slender neck. Even moments away from losing consciousness he had fought like a wild thing, scratching at his attacker's face and hands. Then, over the FBI agent's hulking shoulder, he had made eye contact with the Major … and immediately relaxed. He even smiled a little before blacking out.
At least, he hoped the perverted Limey had blacked out. Otherwise Eroica would've heard the declaration that shocked the Major even as he made it,
“No one touches this man but me.”
He'd considered shooting the FBI agent, before coming to his senses and pistol whipping him into submission. The Major had knelt beside Eroica to inspect him – out cold, and the skin of his throat crackled ominously. A shattered voice box.
A small part of the Major, who resented Eroica and everything he stood for, chuckled evilly. Without a voice, Eroica was powerless. There would be no more innuendo or blatant come-ons. No more late night phone calls. No more maddening impersonations. No more admonishments to take care of himself.
A much larger part of the Major hollered for G, who promptly called for an ambulance.
Stirring from his reverie, the Major looked up to meet Eroica's worried gaze. Are you quite alright?
“I'm fine,” he barked, stubbing out his cigarette in the potted plant Bonham had brought earlier. “It's you you should be worried about.”
This earned him a shrug. Why should I worry? The thief seemed to say. I am Eroica.
“You idiot,” he thundered, not completely certain why he was so angry. “I won't always be around to save your sorry ass!”
A look of pure mischief crossed Eroica's face. Ooh, what's that about my ass?
“Dammit! Even when you are silent, I understand you all too well!”
Eroica bit his lip, suddenly contrite. Sorry, Major. I don't mean to antagonize you.
“Hmph.” The Major half-turned to go, only to stop when he saw Eroica raise one finger in the universal sign for wait one moment. “What is it? I've got a plane to catch.”
His solemn expression never wavering, Eroica pressed his upraised finger to the bandages wrapped around his throat. The Major swallowed, glad that the surgery had been a success. To communicate with Eroica this way forever would have been … inconvenient. It took a minute of staring at that refined gesture, as well as Eroica's gently pursed lips, before he caught the meaning.
FIC: Klaus/Dorian
Eroica, aka Dorian Red Gloria, the Earl of Gloria, widened is eyes and touched his chest delicately. Me?
“It's not NATO's fault you went and got yourself strangled by a rouge FBI agent. If you had just kept your damn nose out of my business, none of this would've happened.”
In retaliation, Eroica pouted. Really, that's a bit harsh.
The Major puffed at his cigarette, ignoring the hospital's helpful signs suggesting that he “Please Refrain from Smoking.” He didn't know why he was here, visiting the fop. By all accounts he should be on a flight back to Bonn, his latest misadventures with Eroica already a distant, purposefully forgotten memory.
One memory, in particular, he was more than ready to block out entirely. Eroica was pinned beneath that behemoth American, struggling for air. Thick fingers were digging into his slender neck. Even moments away from losing consciousness he had fought like a wild thing, scratching at his attacker's face and hands. Then, over the FBI agent's hulking shoulder, he had made eye contact with the Major … and immediately relaxed. He even smiled a little before blacking out.
At least, he hoped the perverted Limey had blacked out. Otherwise Eroica would've heard the declaration that shocked the Major even as he made it,
“No one touches this man but me.”
He'd considered shooting the FBI agent, before coming to his senses and pistol whipping him into submission. The Major had knelt beside Eroica to inspect him – out cold, and the skin of his throat crackled ominously. A shattered voice box.
A small part of the Major, who resented Eroica and everything he stood for, chuckled evilly. Without a voice, Eroica was powerless. There would be no more innuendo or blatant come-ons. No more late night phone calls. No more maddening impersonations. No more admonishments to take care of himself.
A much larger part of the Major hollered for G, who promptly called for an ambulance.
Stirring from his reverie, the Major looked up to meet Eroica's worried gaze. Are you quite alright?
“I'm fine,” he barked, stubbing out his cigarette in the potted plant Bonham had brought earlier. “It's you you should be worried about.”
This earned him a shrug. Why should I worry? The thief seemed to say. I am Eroica.
“You idiot,” he thundered, not completely certain why he was so angry. “I won't always be around to save your sorry ass!”
A look of pure mischief crossed Eroica's face. Ooh, what's that about my ass?
“Dammit! Even when you are silent, I understand you all too well!”
Eroica bit his lip, suddenly contrite. Sorry, Major. I don't mean to antagonize you.
“Hmph.” The Major half-turned to go, only to stop when he saw Eroica raise one finger in the universal sign for wait one moment. “What is it? I've got a plane to catch.”
His solemn expression never wavering, Eroica pressed his upraised finger to the bandages wrapped around his throat. The Major swallowed, glad that the surgery had been a success. To communicate with Eroica this way forever would have been … inconvenient. It took a minute of staring at that refined gesture, as well as Eroica's gently pursed lips, before he caught the meaning.
Kiss it better?