Pricetag a.k.a. Mom a.k.a. Margaret (mprice) wrote in castlegloria, @ 2008-05-04 23:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | author-cherusha, pairing-dorian/klaus, rating-pg-13 |
Fic: Heinz's Razor - part 2
MIRROR ENTRY – COMMENTS DISABLED
Heinz's Razor (part 2 of 3 or 4)
Author: cherusha
Disclaimer: A thousand kisses to Aoike Yasuko, who owns. Period.
Pairing: Klaus/Dorian (but also mostly Papa & Son stuff)
Rating: PG-13 probably?
Summary: Man does Papa Eberbach get a lot of flack from fandom. This is my response to it.
Category: Humor (crack)
Word Count: 3300 so far
Posted: May 4, 2008
Prologue and Step One
* * *
Step Two: Communication is key. Sit down and have a heartfelt talk.
"Let me get this straight -- no pun intended, darling. You want me to break into your property to steal a marble statue of a naked man that your father had installed on the front of your drive?" Dorian Red Gloria covered his mouth with one velvet gloved hand, choking back a fit of delighted laughter. Unfortunately, one small giggle escaped.
"This is no laughing matter!" Klaus barked irritably into the phone. "Stop wasting my time. Will you do it or not?"
Dorian swallowed down the urge to tease upon that last question. "I feel your pain, I really do. But I would have to make a thorough inspection first. It would simply not do to steal anything crass and supbar. My reputation would be ruined forever."
Klaus snorted. "That's funny. I'd have thought a naked man of any kind would be the pinnacle of art for you."
"You wound me, Major," Dorian said airily as he twisted a strand of golden curl round his finger. "I have very specific tastes when it comes to the sort of naked man I want gracing my home."
Klaus gritted his teeth. "Shall I take your answer as a 'no', then?"
"On the contrary. The juxtaposition of that statue alongside your home is too delicious a sight to pass up. I shall be at yours tomorrow around noon. And I am simply dying to see how I measure up against this sculpted beauty who has sent you into such a tizzy. And possibly take a few pointers from him while I'm at it!"
"Yes, you could learn how to be silent as a statue for one..."
"Mn, and how to properly dress down like one..."
"Pervert!" Klaus felt his face predictably heat up and was glad for the phone.
"Your father would not be too pleased to find his possession gone, would he?" asked Dorian, switching tactics.
"I'll deal with him," Klaus answered bluntly.
"Yes, but then your usual way of 'dealing with people' involves more guns and less words. Hardly the right approach to take with one's family," Dorian reminded, though his tone more endearing than reproachful.
"There's always a first time for everything."
"Is that why he made the purchase?"
"No, obviously he made it to drive me insane."
"How so?"
Klaus scowled now, knowing what Dorian was doing. "Stop fishing," he ordered. "Be here tomorrow at eleven. My father is usually out for his morning walk by then and I shudder to think what the clashing of two unbalanced minds would bring." Though the two of you would probably get along swimmingly, he thought rather bitterly.
Dorian laughed. "Darling, am I that much of an embarrassment for you?" He shook a cloud of feather-light curls out of his face. "But you're right. I really do have too much packing to do than to lie here chatting away with you all day."
He rose languidly from his bed and walked to his enormous closet choked with clothes, bringing the phone along with him. "Oh, and just in case: What does one wear when meeting The Father?"
"Idiot!" Klaus yelled. But even as he slammed the phone down on its receiver, he still imagined he could hear the frivolous laughter of Eroica echoing around the room. He sighed and lit another cigarette. The sooner this irritating situation was resolved, the better. His father had always been a stern, logical sort of man. "Function over form" was practically the Eberbach slogan. Therefore, unless the statue had a surprising hidden use like the ability to shoot lasers from its eyes at trespassers (or scare away trespassers with its nakedness), Klaus could find no reasonable explanation for his father's most outrageous buy. Perhaps the high altitude of the Swiss mountains had gotten to him at last, he considered glumly.
Right on time, the hall's grandfather clock struck noon. Each deep, hollow chime lingered gloomily seconds afterward and felt to Klaus like a forewarning of someone's impending doom -- His, to be exact. There in the shadows, he brooded silently over the fine Grecian mess out front, and as he did, the front oak door could be heard swinging heavily open. Militaristic marching footsteps fell disruptively within ear range and mere seconds later, its owner made his appearance beside him.
"My son, let us go to the parlour room," said a raspy voice slightly out of breath from exercise. "There is something I wish to discuss."
Klaus looked up and saw that his father's face was hard and serious, as hard and serious as the time when Klaus was six and he had been caught by his father upending a tin of sugar into his mouth. He had been ordered into the parlour then as well, and spent the next hour listening to his father lecture him on all the evils of the delicious white crystals they called sugar: how it would turn one into a sluggish, ineffectual person; the dangers of tooth decay; the risks of high blood sugar. He had taken out charts and everything. From that day forward, Klaus could not bear to look at another piece of sweet (especially when it was dropped into perfectly good cups of coffee!).
In the parlour the noonday sun gleamed brightly upon dustless furniture as father and son took their seats: Heinz on the couch and Klaus in the chair. Friedrich came and served them tea and coffee, over which they spent the next few minutes silently sipping, unable to think of what to say, how to begin, or who should begin it. The large parlour window looked out onto the front of the drive and Klaus scowled again as he caught glimpse of their current castle guard. He quickly looked away. Finally, Heinz set down his teacup and cleared his throat. When he opened his mouth, the words were not what Klaus had expected.
"'The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.' Does that phrase mean anything to you, my son?"
There was an awkward pause. Klaus's eyes widened slightly at the way his father was fixing him with a stare so penetrating, it would have made a lesser man recoil visibly from the impact. Heinz frowned a little at his son's lack of reaction.
"'Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.' What say you, my son?"
Now Klaus could not decide which scared him more: His father's excessively florid speech or his father's excessive use of the phrase "my son". He groped for the right response. "Are you in any way about to spring me with another one of your 'surprises'... my father?"
"No, indeed not. You've certainly had enough surprises for the day. I, however, have come to love surprises, especially ones that concern my favourite son in the world." Heinz smiled then. Or he tried to smile. The corners of his lips curled upward, producing a clownish effect that looked more unsettling than funny. He valiantly held onto the non-smile a few more seconds past its use date, but all the while, Klaus only blinked at him blankly.
Heinz dropped his strained expression and tried again. "Klaus, I am your father. You can tell me anything, I hope you know that."
"Yes, father."
Heinz nodded approvingly and waited. And waited. And while he waited, a bird flew into the window and bounced off with a squawk.
"Well?" he said, losing his patience. "Don't you have anything you wish to tell me?"
"Father..."
"Yes, my son?"
"I wish you'd remove that statue."
Heinz groaned. "Do you wish to tell me anything besides that?"
"No, father-- oh, and incidentally," Klaus added with a tiny smirk. "I haven't met a wife and I'm still a major."
To his eternal surprise, however, his father practically beamed at the pronouncement. "I knew it!" Heinz said and punched the air.
Early traces of senility, Klaus analyzed secretively. It has to be.
"No need to look so shocked, Klaus," Heinz reproached. "I do care for your happiness first and foremost."
"Yes I know, father, but--"
"--and I never want you to be lonely--"
"Yes I know, father, but--"
"--and if a certain person wants to spend a certain amount of time with another certain person, he should not have to worry about the disapproval of a third person because he thinks -- wrongly, I might add -- that the third person does not approve. Sometimes when two adults have feelings for each other..."
"Father, are you thinking of remarrying?" asked Klaus.
"No, not me."
"Oh."
Heinz seemed lost in thought for a moment and Klaus took the opportunity to glance down surreptitiously at his watch. When was that blasted butler going to come in and announce lunch? he thought desperately. He couldn't take this much longer. When he looked up again, he caught his father giving him a strange look. Grey-blue eyes met cobalt-blue eyes and mixed into a swirl of muddy brown confusion.
"How about those ancient Greek warrior bonds?" Heinz asked nonchalantly.
The non sequitur was much too dark and disturbing for Klaus to even contemplate following safely. "What?" he said.
* * *
Next up... Heinz meets Dorian!