[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
[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?
no subject
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.]
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[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
[The toast is devoured. So he can find a few words at least.]
And I think you are right.