[And yet, here she is, cuddled up with him beneath the covers, her half-braided overly sentimental blushing beau of a vampire, letting him haggle with her about the whens and the hows of calling her a pet name.]
I don't want to get up yet. We can stay a little longer, can't we?
Mmm, is that why you watched me sleep for an hour?
[They are so very warm like this, Sypha being where she is. Snug for the blankets piled atop them both to keep out the chill. Alucard looking ridiculous for Sypha's efforts and his own...everything, because he's a disaster.]
You're the one atop me, Sypha. I don't see how I can get up unless you allow it.
No, I watched you sleep for an hour because you are very handsome when you sleep.
[She is nothing if not honest. Also warm. Also settling down over him because holding herself up isn't as comfortable as just draping herself over him, and she's probably light enough that it's not a massive burden on him, anyway.]
And also because you watched me sleep last night, I think. Or at least saw me when I was close to it. Fair is fair.
When you're awake, you are very beautiful. A slight but significant difference.
[There's no way he'll resist that bait, but that's sort of the point. Baiting clarification through deliberate ambiguity is always an enjoyable game to play, especially on a lazy morning in bed.]
Are you warm enough? Comfortable? I am not crushing anything?
Hm, I hadn't been aware of that. How, precisely, do you define that difference?
[He shifts a little, just to make it clear to Sypha that he is, in fact, very comfortable indeed. She's the warmest weight. The best weight.]
You'd know if you were. But this does beg the question of how long do you wish to laze here versus how much do you want me to go and make coffee? [Some routines are important. And moreover, he really, really needs it.]
A force of nature is not handsome, but it can be beautiful.
[She bends, kissing the tip of his nose, because she's in reach for it and he hasn't tried to gracefully rearrange her, so why not.]
When you sleep, you are soft and content, like a picture from out of a storybook, very handsome. But awake, you become like a diamond. Your wit, your resolve, your sadness and joy both. Your different facets shine depending on how the light hits you. Beauty is a more nuanced thing, than simply being handsome. And you are much more than the pretty face you show when you are asleep.
[She settles back down again, resting her head on his shoulder.]
Just ten more minutes, now that we're both awake. I just want to enjoy being with you.
[His nose wiggles just a little from that touch. He had a planned response to this, he really did, but leave it to Sypha to stun him into complete and utter silence. Make him as red as he can possibly get. To want to melt into the bed for all of the warmth in those words, in how she says them.
The most she gets is a little strangled noise of surprise and delight, which is to say she's bested the vampire, and neither of them have gotten out of bed yet.
What else can he do in this moment but tuck a few stray strands of Sypha's hair back where they ought to be when she settles again? Kiss her gently on her forehead, because that's what's in reach? Hold her fast where she is, because what other place ought she be but there?
Alucard sighs, content. Murmurs some noise that's agreement, because really, how does one follow up words like those?
But ten minutes do pass. Become fifteen, and there's a cry from Alucard's stomach that interrupts the peace and quiet. Rather than nudge Sypha, he kisses the top of her head to reclaim attention.]
I'll make something we can both have up here. All I intend to do for the rest of the day is to stay in bed, tending to the fire.
[Evidently, one follows up endearments like hers with, well, a remark like that, because it's visible in her expression how the pieces fall into place, and confusion shifts into recognition. One for one, it seems, they're even; her eyes widen just a fraction, and her lips part just enough to allow for a silent intake of breath to pass through, and her cheeks flush pink for a hint of a moment, as much with unexpected pleasure as with fluster.
Tending to the fire, indeed. It's such a little thing, to leave her so overwhelmed.]
...Oh.
[Oh.]
You'll have to be quick. It's not sensible to leave such things unattended for long.
I'm afraid it will be fifteen minutes at the very least.
[Because coffee takes time. So does the rest of breakfast, even with vampire speed. Stoves, stoves work in real time, no matter how hard his father tried to change that. Laws of heat abide by no rule but their own.
He can't help but relish that reaction. It's a fair turn for leaving him breathless earlier, but more than that, it's just a sight to see. Rendering Speakers speechless that's an accomplishment.]
Are you now going to make as many puns about fire as you can? Because I am enjoying them immensely.
[Reluctantly, and at length, she finally lets go and lightly rolls off of him, landing with a pleasant flump on the mattress on her side, facing him with a smile on her face.]
Such as: are you carrying a torch for me, my old flame? I can think of no one who could hold a candle to you.
I'll lose a pun contest with you, and I've no intent to shame myself in such a humiliating defeat.
[Besides, there's something more important than puns. Alucard lingers where he is just a few moments longer. Long enough to place a kiss on her lips, one to her neck, and one to whatever bit of exposed shoulder he can reach. Soft as anything. Not teasing, not in truth.
And then he is out of bed. Out with his slippers on his feet, bathrobe forgotten. To the kitchen, because coffee is needed. Coffee and real food, because to feed a fire you have to...actually feed a fire, which this morning translates into poached eggs over English muffins, sausages, bacon, plus extra toast with butter and jam on the side. It's all brought up on a tray holding two plates, the coffee pot, and two mugs. (The fine china is the only china the house has, so it's used on the regular.)
Alucard had the foresight to leave the door open, so there's no struggling with the knob. There is only walking over to present the entire tray in front of Sypha, trying not to look too terribly proud of the work.]
[Despite her grumbling, the time passes by much more quickly for Sypha than she would've thought it would, even once he's gone. Being the preliminary source of heat of the pair means that his absence isn't felt that badly in terms of a lack of ambient warmth, and once she pulls the covers back up around her to help keep it in, it's not altogether difficult to roll over and bury her face in his pillow and breathe deep the lingering smell of his hair while she waits.
She falls back asleep before long, dozing in her nest of warmth and blankets, and eventually rouses when she hears his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches the door, she's rolling over onto her back and sitting up, scowling only moderately at the chill in the air outside of the blankets.]
...Oh, you're spoiling me.
[And suddenly she realizes just how hungry she is, with the aroma of breakfast in the air, and all of it made better by Alucard's return.]
Here, let me have it while you get back in bed. It's better under the covers.
[It should be noted that, among so many other things, all of the braids are still in place. Cooking? Far more important than fussing with his hair. There was no time to focus on that.
All the same, the tray gets handed over to Sypha first so that nothing will spill over the bed. (Coffee is the probable worst stain of them all, but bacon grease is a close second. Alucard is careful as he sits on the edge of the bed (slippers off first!) and then settles in. Makes sure the blankets are up enough to be warm, but down low enough that they won't catch crumbs.]
It's nearly eleven. At this point, we may as well be having lunch.
[She balances the tray admirably, letting him get situated before passing it back to him (she'd sooner trust his reflexes to catch impending spills than her own) and snuggling in close to his side so that she's within reach of the plates, herself.]
...Alucard.
[She lightly walks her fingers up his arm, gently coaxing as she thinks out loud.]
I know that for...many reasons, you tend not to show Trevor and I when you have a meal in blood instead of in eggs and muffins. But I don't remember seeing you even sneak off for one in some time. You...have been, haven't you? And I simply haven't noticed?
[Once they are both settled, he pours the coffee. Most important thing. Alucard takes his dark and bitter, and he drinks it all before he ever eats. It is a strange little ritual, and one he imagines is born of older traditions back in his father's homeland. The Turks, after all, once occupied Wallachia, and it is their custom to have coffee before any other meal.
His leg moves to brush against Sypha's. Rest there, for he is terrible and a prelude is always nice. As nice as the fingers on his arm, even if the question is not his favorite.]
I have. Just at meetings, rather than independent.
[It's been stressful lately. He hates taking human blood, but when it's offered at long talks, he is in no place to refuse.]
[Nothing from a vein. Glasses only, because what prince must work for his meals? It is the only way to cast the dislike of it, and those nights are the ones he did not kiss either of them. Trevor would know immediately anyway, and things with Trevor are so very tenuous.
The head on his shoulder gets a kiss. (Maybe a little coffee in the hair too.]
I never want you to. I...worry, you know. That it forces the burden of my emotional well being on you too much.
It's different when I ask for it. That's not forcing anything; it is my choice.
[A little sigh escapes her when his kiss brushes against her head, and she holds there a minute before reaching for a piece of the bacon and testing it with her fingertips to see if it's too hot to pick up. When she finds it's sufficiently cooled, she murmurs her nonverbal approval and picks up a piece to chew on, crunching happily.]
I couldn't love you without accepting that burden, however much of a burden it might be. Love is not for only when it is easy. I want to support you, whether you are at your best or your worst.
[The coffee is done. He reaches for toast first, because he doesn't have to do much to it. Eggs, sausage, that requires utensils. A few more moments like this.
He sighs. It is happy, for the most part. That well of sadness, it bubbles up. But it does not overflow. There's something murmured. Hearthfire again, sincere and whispered and too quiet for anyone else to ever overhear.
There are days Alucard thinks of what is deserved and not. It cannot be helped, it is a natural thought to anyone.
He breathes out.]
I love you for that. More than I can find words for.
[What would a Speaker be without words, after all. It's in the very definition.]
You've never needed them to show your love. It helps, of course, but it's like I have said before: you love by doing, through action. And sometimes through inaction.
[She smiles faintly.]
I'm lying on your arm, and you can't eat a sausage one-handed. So you're putting it off, so that we can go a little longer before I have to move my head. Otherwise you would've already had them by now, because your coffee is finished.
[Idly, she licks her fingers once she's finished with her piece of bacon, sucking off the remainder of the grease and delicious fried bits.]
You write notes and hide them for me because you know I love written things, because Speakers don't use them. You leave strawberries out on the counter because you're going to bake with them later and pretend that you always meant to make a half-batch instead of a full one, because half of the berries have gone missing in the interim. You gave me my own whole room in this great big house, even though I never sleep in it and you knew that too, but because I have never had a bedroom or a closet or a desk with little drawers and knobs and that room, it isn't ours, it's mine.
[And she laughs a little, softly.]
Sometimes I don't think you even realize how often you tell me you love me. But I know. You do it without words.
[It's the best and worst part of half your heart belonging to a Speaker: any declaration of love is going to be outclassed in every way possible, and you are going to sit there a total mess.
Which is what Alucard is doing in this very moment, heat in his cheeks, free hand caught up in Sypha's hair, eyes glistening from the sweetness and understanding of it all. That last part though, that last part is the key to it all.
He grew up watching displays of endless affection. It's the easier part for him to follow, because actions come easier than words. Intent, the magic of intent, it translates better for him when he can do something so simple as make sure Sypha has her own room in the house or to always prepare only half a batch of strawberry muffins.
So he can be forgiven at being stunned into silence. And just stuffing his face full of toast rather than trying to reply.]
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no subject
[And yet, here she is, cuddled up with him beneath the covers, her half-braided overly sentimental blushing beau of a vampire, letting him haggle with her about the whens and the hows of calling her a pet name.]
I don't want to get up yet. We can stay a little longer, can't we?
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[They are so very warm like this, Sypha being where she is. Snug for the blankets piled atop them both to keep out the chill. Alucard looking ridiculous for Sypha's efforts and his own...everything, because he's a disaster.]
You're the one atop me, Sypha. I don't see how I can get up unless you allow it.
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[She is nothing if not honest. Also warm. Also settling down over him because holding herself up isn't as comfortable as just draping herself over him, and she's probably light enough that it's not a massive burden on him, anyway.]
And also because you watched me sleep last night, I think. Or at least saw me when I was close to it. Fair is fair.
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[The question is asked in only mock horror. He knows the answer will be better than his smartassed remark deserves.
Besides, he gets Sypha right in the best space she can ever be. All over him, exactly where she feels like it, and nothing more.]
I can't argue the law of equivalent exchange. And you were very charming in those moments.
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[There's no way he'll resist that bait, but that's sort of the point. Baiting clarification through deliberate ambiguity is always an enjoyable game to play, especially on a lazy morning in bed.]
Are you warm enough? Comfortable? I am not crushing anything?
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[He shifts a little, just to make it clear to Sypha that he is, in fact, very comfortable indeed. She's the warmest weight. The best weight.]
You'd know if you were. But this does beg the question of how long do you wish to laze here versus how much do you want me to go and make coffee? [Some routines are important. And moreover, he really, really needs it.]
I have no intention of leaving this house today.
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[She bends, kissing the tip of his nose, because she's in reach for it and he hasn't tried to gracefully rearrange her, so why not.]
When you sleep, you are soft and content, like a picture from out of a storybook, very handsome. But awake, you become like a diamond. Your wit, your resolve, your sadness and joy both. Your different facets shine depending on how the light hits you. Beauty is a more nuanced thing, than simply being handsome. And you are much more than the pretty face you show when you are asleep.
[She settles back down again, resting her head on his shoulder.]
Just ten more minutes, now that we're both awake. I just want to enjoy being with you.
no subject
The most she gets is a little strangled noise of surprise and delight, which is to say she's bested the vampire, and neither of them have gotten out of bed yet.
What else can he do in this moment but tuck a few stray strands of Sypha's hair back where they ought to be when she settles again? Kiss her gently on her forehead, because that's what's in reach? Hold her fast where she is, because what other place ought she be but there?
Alucard sighs, content. Murmurs some noise that's agreement, because really, how does one follow up words like those?
But ten minutes do pass. Become fifteen, and there's a cry from Alucard's stomach that interrupts the peace and quiet. Rather than nudge Sypha, he kisses the top of her head to reclaim attention.]
I'll make something we can both have up here. All I intend to do for the rest of the day is to stay in bed, tending to the fire.
no subject
[Evidently, one follows up endearments like hers with, well, a remark like that, because it's visible in her expression how the pieces fall into place, and confusion shifts into recognition. One for one, it seems, they're even; her eyes widen just a fraction, and her lips part just enough to allow for a silent intake of breath to pass through, and her cheeks flush pink for a hint of a moment, as much with unexpected pleasure as with fluster.
Tending to the fire, indeed. It's such a little thing, to leave her so overwhelmed.]
...Oh.
[Oh.]
You'll have to be quick. It's not sensible to leave such things unattended for long.
no subject
[Because coffee takes time. So does the rest of breakfast, even with vampire speed. Stoves, stoves work in real time, no matter how hard his father tried to change that. Laws of heat abide by no rule but their own.
He can't help but relish that reaction. It's a fair turn for leaving him breathless earlier, but more than that, it's just a sight to see. Rendering Speakers speechless that's an accomplishment.]
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[She is a DISTRACTION and she knows it.]
Or I could stay, and await you, and motivate you to return in a hurry.
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[What were they saying just a few moments ago about fire?
He nudges Sypha gently. Can't go do this if she's still holding on.]
As Trevor would say, light a fire under one's ass?
no subject
[Reluctantly, and at length, she finally lets go and lightly rolls off of him, landing with a pleasant flump on the mattress on her side, facing him with a smile on her face.]
Such as: are you carrying a torch for me, my old flame? I can think of no one who could hold a candle to you.
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[Besides, there's something more important than puns. Alucard lingers where he is just a few moments longer. Long enough to place a kiss on her lips, one to her neck, and one to whatever bit of exposed shoulder he can reach. Soft as anything. Not teasing, not in truth.
And then he is out of bed. Out with his slippers on his feet, bathrobe forgotten. To the kitchen, because coffee is needed. Coffee and real food, because to feed a fire you have to...actually feed a fire, which this morning translates into poached eggs over English muffins, sausages, bacon, plus extra toast with butter and jam on the side. It's all brought up on a tray holding two plates, the coffee pot, and two mugs. (The fine china is the only china the house has, so it's used on the regular.)
Alucard had the foresight to leave the door open, so there's no struggling with the knob. There is only walking over to present the entire tray in front of Sypha, trying not to look too terribly proud of the work.]
no subject
She falls back asleep before long, dozing in her nest of warmth and blankets, and eventually rouses when she hears his footsteps on the stairs. By the time he reaches the door, she's rolling over onto her back and sitting up, scowling only moderately at the chill in the air outside of the blankets.]
...Oh, you're spoiling me.
[And suddenly she realizes just how hungry she is, with the aroma of breakfast in the air, and all of it made better by Alucard's return.]
Here, let me have it while you get back in bed. It's better under the covers.
no subject
[It should be noted that, among so many other things, all of the braids are still in place. Cooking? Far more important than fussing with his hair. There was no time to focus on that.
All the same, the tray gets handed over to Sypha first so that nothing will spill over the bed. (Coffee is the probable worst stain of them all, but bacon grease is a close second. Alucard is careful as he sits on the edge of the bed (slippers off first!) and then settles in. Makes sure the blankets are up enough to be warm, but down low enough that they won't catch crumbs.]
It's nearly eleven. At this point, we may as well be having lunch.
no subject
[She balances the tray admirably, letting him get situated before passing it back to him (she'd sooner trust his reflexes to catch impending spills than her own) and snuggling in close to his side so that she's within reach of the plates, herself.]
...Alucard.
[She lightly walks her fingers up his arm, gently coaxing as she thinks out loud.]
I know that for...many reasons, you tend not to show Trevor and I when you have a meal in blood instead of in eggs and muffins. But I don't remember seeing you even sneak off for one in some time. You...have been, haven't you? And I simply haven't noticed?
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His leg moves to brush against Sypha's. Rest there, for he is terrible and a prelude is always nice. As nice as the fingers on his arm, even if the question is not his favorite.]
I have. Just at meetings, rather than independent.
[It's been stressful lately. He hates taking human blood, but when it's offered at long talks, he is in no place to refuse.]
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[And perhaps not just available but encouraged. Or strongly encouraged. Frowned upon, if refused. She can imagine all sorts of things.
She rests her head on his shoulder, instead, and laughs softly.]
We met because you needed me to take care of you. I suppose I've never fallen out of the habit, worrying about you.
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[Nothing from a vein. Glasses only, because what prince must work for his meals? It is the only way to cast the dislike of it, and those nights are the ones he did not kiss either of them. Trevor would know immediately anyway, and things with Trevor are so very tenuous.
The head on his shoulder gets a kiss. (Maybe a little coffee in the hair too.]
I never want you to. I...worry, you know. That it forces the burden of my emotional well being on you too much.
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[A little sigh escapes her when his kiss brushes against her head, and she holds there a minute before reaching for a piece of the bacon and testing it with her fingertips to see if it's too hot to pick up. When she finds it's sufficiently cooled, she murmurs her nonverbal approval and picks up a piece to chew on, crunching happily.]
I couldn't love you without accepting that burden, however much of a burden it might be. Love is not for only when it is easy. I want to support you, whether you are at your best or your worst.
no subject
[The coffee is done. He reaches for toast first, because he doesn't have to do much to it. Eggs, sausage, that requires utensils. A few more moments like this.
He sighs. It is happy, for the most part. That well of sadness, it bubbles up. But it does not overflow. There's something murmured. Hearthfire again, sincere and whispered and too quiet for anyone else to ever overhear.
There are days Alucard thinks of what is deserved and not. It cannot be helped, it is a natural thought to anyone.
He breathes out.]
I love you for that. More than I can find words for.
no subject
[What would a Speaker be without words, after all. It's in the very definition.]
You've never needed them to show your love. It helps, of course, but it's like I have said before: you love by doing, through action. And sometimes through inaction.
[She smiles faintly.]
I'm lying on your arm, and you can't eat a sausage one-handed. So you're putting it off, so that we can go a little longer before I have to move my head. Otherwise you would've already had them by now, because your coffee is finished.
[Idly, she licks her fingers once she's finished with her piece of bacon, sucking off the remainder of the grease and delicious fried bits.]
You write notes and hide them for me because you know I love written things, because Speakers don't use them. You leave strawberries out on the counter because you're going to bake with them later and pretend that you always meant to make a half-batch instead of a full one, because half of the berries have gone missing in the interim. You gave me my own whole room in this great big house, even though I never sleep in it and you knew that too, but because I have never had a bedroom or a closet or a desk with little drawers and knobs and that room, it isn't ours, it's mine.
[And she laughs a little, softly.]
Sometimes I don't think you even realize how often you tell me you love me. But I know. You do it without words.
no subject
Which is what Alucard is doing in this very moment, heat in his cheeks, free hand caught up in Sypha's hair, eyes glistening from the sweetness and understanding of it all. That last part though, that last part is the key to it all.
He grew up watching displays of endless affection. It's the easier part for him to follow, because actions come easier than words. Intent, the magic of intent, it translates better for him when he can do something so simple as make sure Sypha has her own room in the house or to always prepare only half a batch of strawberry muffins.
So he can be forgiven at being stunned into silence. And just stuffing his face full of toast rather than trying to reply.]
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[Her voice is very soft now, and she closes her eyes as she leans on him more heavily, unguarded and vulnerable in her admission.]
I think sometimes you hear me tell you I love you by the way I understand you, and show it like this.
(no subject)