y_c_reverse (y_c_reverse) wrote in yaoi_challenge,
y_c_reverse
y_c_reverse
yaoi_challenge

untitled (From Eroica With Love, Klaus/Dorian)

Title: [currently untitled]
Fandom: From Eroica with Love
Pairing/Character: Klaus/Dorian
Author: Blinks Midnight
Recipient: Chirucchi
Rating: G
Summary: Shoulda stayed in Bonn. Seriously.



In London, as anywhere, there were cafes and there were cafes. If one happened to find the right sort--the sort where your cup was always kept steaming, where they always had the paper you wanted and kept somebody's old granny locked up in the back to make the biscuits they sold out of big glass jars by the register--the secret of its existence was kept as closely-guarded as the sacred locations of ancestral fishing holes.

All the same, while the polite fiction of 'honor among thieves' was largely just that--a fiction--it couldn't be said that the men of Eroica's team weren't a family of sorts. Bonham might have discovered the little shop, but the late morning sunlight found him basking in the company of his fellows, both literally and figuratively. The sidewalk table held three of them, Bonham with a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit, Jones with a very tall cup of very strong coffee and two biscuits, and Malcolm hiding behind the paper with something organic, blended and fruity. Bonham wasn't certain he wanted to know what it was; it looked far too healthy for this early in the day.

"Still," Jones was saying, brushing a few crumbs onto his napkin, "it doesn't seem natural. His Lordship in a court of law. Even as a spectator."

"It's the Alphabet I feel sorry for," Bonham countered, shaking his head. "After having to sit tight for hours with his Lordship being friendly-like? Uncle NATO's going to be in a snit by the time court adjourns, if he makes it that long."

"Poetic justice, I say," Malcolm offered, briefly peering over the top of his paper. "Mind you, I've no more use for terrorists than you do, but to fly out all the way from Bonn just to see the man hang? That's just desserts for being vengeful, mark my words." Nodding determinedly, Malcolm dropped his head again for a moment before looking up again with a thoughtful frown. "Of course, being flirted at by Dorian's not exactly a punishment...."

"In the eye of the beholder," Bonham said with a sigh. "In the eye of the beholder."

"Hm."

Malcolm shrugged and went back to his paper and Bonham went back to his tea, idly scanning the front page since Malcolm was being so nice as to hold it for him. Scandal, economy, human interest...and a thin man in a prison jumper, hunched up meek and mild between two guards. The photograph was grainy, but Bonham would have remembered the man even if Iron Klaus hadn't taken a vacation day just to watch his sentencing.

"And there's the bloke that caused all the fuss," he said, nodding at the paper. He didn't notice when Jones froze in startlement, head half-turned to stare across the street.

"I'll be buggered," Jones muttered, his cheeks pinking when Malcolm snickered from behind the paper.

"No need to tell us," Malcolm offered innocently, twisting his hips sharply to take his legs out of kicking range.

"Crafty sort, isn't he?" Bonham asked, deciding the fellow looked a little too cowed in the picture, his eyes a little too sly. "Maybe the Major had the right idea, coming to England."

"I'll say," Jones agreed, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe the Major's the sporting kind."

"How do you mean?" Bonham asked glancing up with a frown.

Jones jerked his head to the left, saying, "Well...maybe his Lordship gave him a taste for catch-and-release."

Malcolm's paper dropped in a flurry of newsprint as Bonham spun around in his chair. They were just in time to see the same thin man in the same prison jumper as the front-page photograph wrestle a woman from her car and shove her into the street. Jumping behind the wheel, the escaped terrorist slammed the door and tromped down on the gas, wrenching the car onto the street with a screech.

Seconds later a black Benz went tearing by, Iron Klaus sitting white-faced and furious...in the passenger's seat.

It was Dorian who was driving.

Bonham blinked and cleared his throat. "Erm. Was there anything in that paper about the end of the world?"

"I don't know," Malcolm said slowly as the sound of screaming engines slowly faded. "I hadn't made it to the society pages yet."


***


Fuming, cigarette clenched forgotten in his teeth, Klaus glared straight ahead at the car weaving in and out of traffic in front of them. He should have known that any time he came to England it'd end in a fiasco. He'd been unforgivably stupid to think that just because the usual source of his troubles wasn't actively working against him meant he was safe. He should have known by now that nothing Eroica was involved in--nothing--could ever go smoothly.

"Drive faster," he snapped, left hand gripping the edge of his seat to keep from rolling the window down and reaching for his gun. "If you lose him--"

"I did ask if you wanted to drive," Eroica pointed out with infuriating reasonability. "Shift, please."

Grimly refusing to look, Klaus lowered his arm, but it was Dorian's hand that worked the stick, with a smooth slide of gears Klaus wasn't certain whether he should approve of or be vaguely unsettled by.

The reminder of that offer just ratcheted his fury a notch higher. Of course he would have preferred to drive...only at the moment he was trying to forget he had an arm at all, much less one handcuffed to some English pervert. It was his right to Dorian's left, and the only way he could have steered the car himself was to have Eroica stretched across him, practically in his lap, and--

"Just drive," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"As you wish," Eroica said lightly, and it looked like he was trapping a smile. "You know, we really should've taken my car. It would've been faster, after all."

"It's Italian," Klaus said dismissively as Dorian whipped the wheel over to careen around a bus, narrowly missing a delivery van, a news vendor and a cab. The cab had no one to blame but himself.

"So it would have been Italian and faster."

"I'm not going to chase someone I actually want to catch in some Italian piece of crap that'll break down every five kilometers," Klaus growled, mouth twisting with a sneer. Did the idiot know anything about cars other than what was flashy and expensive?

"Oh?" Dorian asked ingeniously "Is that why you always chase me in a Benz?"

"Eroica," Klaus warned and was disgusted when the thief only laughed.

"Yes, yes. Shift, please."

"It doesn't go any higher," Klaus pointed out suspiciously.

"I know. That's why we're slowing down."

"Slowing--"

"Major, I know these streets. If you take the next turn as fast as we're going, you'll--"

Klaus scowled when he heard the unmistakable sound of tires spinning out of control, followed by the crunch of metal and glass. He didn't protest when his arm was tugged about, however, much as it pained him. Perhaps Dorian did know a thing or two about his own home turf.

He nearly groaned when he saw their target stagger out of the wrecked and stolen vehicle, take one look at them, and take off running. True, the man was listing sideways, but he only had one pair of feet to worry about.

"I hope you run faster than you drive," Klaus warned, and before the Benz had quite slewed to a halt, he was dragging Dorian across the seat and out into the street, dodging gawking pedestrians as the sounds of sirens began to catch up with them in the distance.


***


Dorian was almost insulted. Really, what made Klaus think he wouldn't be a good runner? He was a thief; of course he could run. Then again, he liked to think he was a good thief, and good thieves didn't get caught, which kept the running to a minimum. Good thing he kept in shape for the odd occasion just such as this.

Really, he might have known that something was bound to happen today; his meetings with Klaus were always exciting, whether he'd planned them to be or not. And perhaps things had gone just a little too far today. It wasn't that he minded being handcuffed to the Major, though the bruises were going to take weeks to heal at this rate; he minded greatly that he'd been distracted enough to let that wretched fellow Jensen get close enough to cuff them together in the first place--with Jensen's own cuffs, no less. It was demeaning. For once he agreed with Klaus entirely.

Concentrating on trying to match his stride to Klaus', Dorian kept his eyes peeled for their fugitive, cursing the foot traffic as the streets began to fill with the lunch crowd. Jensen was likely banged and bruised from the wreck, but it was easier to dodge fellow pedestrians when you weren't handcuffed to someone. Klaus--who was being very Klaus at the moment--just bulled his way through everything in his path; it was Dorian who had to duck and weave, trying not to clothesline anyone between them.

"Excuse me," he called over his shoulder, "pardon me--oh...nothing personal, Father...."

When Jensen ducked down a side street, Dorian would have breathed a sigh of relief if he hadn't needed it for running. Unless they'd torn down that lovely little Greek place on the next street over, Jensen had just darted into a dead end.

Jensen seemed to realize that halfway down the alley, and by the time he skidded to a stop and spun to retrace his steps, Klaus was blocking the exit to the street, scowling in pure menace and barely breathing hard. "Lie down on the ground with your hands on your head," Klaus barked at the man, and even without a weapon in hand, Dorian didn't think he'd argue the point in Jensen's place.

Only Jensen sized them up with narrowed eyes, smirking a little as he took in their still-joined wrists, Klaus' empty hands.

"You know, you could have asked the guards for the key. But hey, suit yourselves. Now, me? I think I'm getting my second wind. So if you'll excuse me...."

Klaus growled and reached for his gun, freezing when he realized he was yanking Dorian's arm along too. Dorian blinked at Klaus' unusual restraint--Jensen was ambling away, hands in pockets as he sauntered towards the service door at the end of the alley--realizing belatedly that Klaus simply didn't want to reach for his shoulder holster if it meant Dorian would have his hand under Klaus' jacket as well.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Dorian huffed, reaching for Klaus' gun himself.

"Don't touch me," Klaus snapped back, shoving his arm--and therefore Dorian's--as far away from himself as he could.

"Are you serious? He'll get away!"

"We'll run him down," Klaus insisted, and while it was heartwarming that the man would include Dorian in that statement of utter confidence, that was hardly the point.

"I'm not running another step," he announced, chin up, eyes flashing, and waited for Klaus' temper to boil over.

With a wordless growl, Klaus shoved his hand inside his jacket, flinching only a little when Dorian's fingers were dragged across iron muscle to press briefly against his ribs. The gun came out with a jerk, and when a single shot passed close enough to ruffle Jensen's hair before chipping away at the wall beyond, the terrorist froze like a startled deer and slowly lifted his hands.

"Really, darling," Dorian said with a sniff. "This 'no touching' policy of yours simply must stop. You see where it gets us?"

"When the police come," Klaus ground out word by word, "I'm handing you over too."

"Of course you are," Dorian said with a smile. "And while I'd love to let you, just think of what it'd do to my reputation. It's one thing to be caught by you, but technically we were both caught by him."

He could tell by the horrified look on the Major's face that Klaus didn't like it any better than he did; that was what gave him the courage to twist his wrist that final degree and lift his now-free left hand in a coy little wave.

"So I'll just leave talking to the police to you then, shall I? And I had a marvelous time, of course. Perhaps you'll come to dinner tonight so I can repay the favor?"

Watching Klaus' expression go from shocked to murderous over his sudden freedom, Dorian decided to beat a strategic retreat. For now.

"Give my love to the Alphabet, Major!" he called as he backed towards the mouth of the alley. "And do come see us again on your next vacation!"

When a little black car pulled up right outside, Dorian gave a jaunty grin to Bonham and folded himself regally inside. One day Klaus would take him up on that dinner proposal...and maybe a few of the other proposals as well. Dorian could wait.


***


Miles Jensen listened to the slam of a car door and the screech of tires as he stared glumly at the wall. He'd thought he had the perfect plan the moment he saw that flaming Earl sit down next to Iron Klaus, but maybe the rumors about the Major were mistaken.

Everyone knew the man had a thing for the art thief Eroica...but who knew he had a thing for handcuffs, too?

Not as vanilla as you look, Major, Jensen grumbled to himself.

No matter. He'd have other chances to escape. After all...they still had to sentence him, right?
Tags: blinks midnight, from eroica with love, rare fandom challenge, recipient: chirucchi
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic
    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 4 comments