[The kiss is lovely. Being untangled from Trevor, less so. Alucard ends up lying on his stomach rather than rolling onto his side or back, one hand reaching out to rest next to Trevor. The other grabs one of the pillows and shoves it under his own head. It absolutely needs to be changed - hell, all of the sheets do after that marathon - but for right now, it'll do. At least until Trevor's back and Alucard can demand to use his chest in place of the pillow.]
Just bring the entire pitcher in and two glasses?
[It's a smarter, more elegant solution. But more than that, it's a request that Trevor actually stay. Linger even. It's the kind of request that has to be made like this, because to be bold and ask him to stay could scuttle this...whatever it is.
Alucard lets out a soft sigh at that thought. They need Sypha home already. At the very least, this is something the dhampir can talk to her about, even if it'll end in Sypha rolling her eyes and demanding everyone just sit down and talk already.]
[There's an implication there somewhere. Trevor hadn't been intending to slink off and leave Adrian alone all night, but he needs-- Something. A moment to breathe, possibly a second to think. Adrian drives out all sense and reason, and sometimes Trevor's fine with that, but other times -- like right now -- it's just...
He needs to breathe.]
As you wish, my liege.
[Trevor can't even bring himself to make Adrian suffer for his mood. Not after it's been sweet for what's possibly a record amount of time between them. Let it simmer a bit longer before Trevor turns bastard again.
It doesn't take long to get water, even a pitcher of it, with two glasses, which is what makes Trevor's lengthy disappearance somewhat worrying. The kitchen's a God-send of solitude, but the silence is deafening, and a damned drink might help quiet his mind, but they'd thoroughly polished off the last of the liquor last night. Had he thought to get more-- Had he thought, period--
Damn it all, what would Sypha do if she were home right now? Very probably smack Trevor around a bit and insist that he talk about his feelings, which has never been more out of the question, and the notion just irritates the FUCK out of him. Because all signs point to it, and he's never hated any idea more in his life.
In his life, and he there is no way he's being too dramatic about this.
Trevor's in a considerably darker mood when he returns to Adrian's room. He places a glass on Adrian's bedside table, fills it, then rounds to the other side of the bed. But he's abandoned the pitcher at the bedside table, and he's holding an empty glass in one hand. An empty glass he's still holding when he sprawls across the bedcovers, sighs, and then... Then starts glaring at it the moment he realizes it's still fucking empty.
If that's not the last goddamned straw...]
What are we doing with all this, anyway? [The tone's edging on snappy, but there's an undercurrent -- faint -- of something else. Anger, maybe. Fear?
[For the first few minutes that Trevor is gone, Alucard lays where he is, doing nothing at all and no particular thought coming into his head. Trevor will be back soon, and that will be permission to doze for several hours at least. There's no work to worry about tomorrow, which is a blessing in and of itself, and Alucard fully expects himself to sleep until noon.
Except soon passes, and Trevor doesn't return. Alucard's eyes move over to the clock that sits on his nightstand, the digital numbers telling him that more time has passed than required for such a simple errand. A soft sigh follows that revelation, and it's one laced with worry.]
Of course.
[Two words, said softly and with far more melancholy in them than even Alucard expected. This, whatever it is, it makes Trevor think too much. Alucard is no expert on the man's brain, but he can't imagine that this absence is due to happy thoughts.
He grabs a hairtie from that same nightstand and pulls all of his hair back (it is, unsurprisingly, an absolute mess and not one that's getting addressed until later). It's the only action he has any energy for, and by the time Trevor does return, Alucard is in the same position as before, the only difference being his hair's attempt at decency.
Keen gold eyes watch as Trevor settles down on the bed. Alucard doesn't reach for the water glass immediately either, not until Trevor's settled and...
...the empty glass is concerning. The question is too, but it needs to be put into the open. Sypha would demand that much of them both.]
I...I suppose that's one way to phrase it, yes. [They're words said with a slightly distant tone of voice. One that's carefully considering what to say.] But it leads to the easy response of I don't know.
[Alucard frowns at a flyaway that dares to enter his field of vision.]
[That's just vague enough to be infuriating, and it taps against Trevor's last remaining nerve. Something. Not that either of them can put words to it, so by all rights, Trevor has no place getting testy about it. Even so...
Even so, that's not the worst answer. Against odds (and Trevor's expectations), Adrian seems amiable to the idea that this isn't just a pastime. A distraction. A release. All those words Trevor parades around his own mind, all the many and varied excuses he invents to ignore what they really are. What this really is.
A connection. Companionship. Affection. Caring. For a man who's at least half what his family's hunted for generations. The irony of it hits harder than anything else, but it comes paired with a solid uppercut of dread and a sudden certainty that he's done for. Utterly and completely ruined.
Trevor pushes a hand over his face, digs the heel of his thumb against his eye and abandons the empty water glass on an emptier stretch of bed. With a huff, he snags Adrian around the waist and drags him close again. Close enough to bury his nose in a pile of soft golden hair, to hook his arm beneath Adrian's shoulders and practically cradle the dhampir against him, to coax the man back into that comfortable tangle they always fall into.
It's no verbal confirmation or gratitude, but it's the closest Trevor can manage to either.]
[Maybe in older times, Alucard would have a more poetic metaphor for whatever this is. Talk of an alchemist's crucible, where elements are put together, heated over the whitest of flames, and what comes out is transmuted into something wholly unique. But now, here, there's no such language. Only thoughts of handling a delicate situation with slip-proof gloves, while guiding that situation across a greased floor. Or approaching a skittish horse who is likely to stomp you to death.
Neither is great. Both are apt.
Trevor's mind is in too many places. That much Alucard can say with confidence, even before Trevor reaches for him. It's glaringly obvious from the way Trevor holds himself, and it's probably a good thing there's no more drink in the house. Alucard doubts that this conversation would be happening otherwise.
Not that it's truly much of a conversation, but they are both stubborn idiots. They aren't Sypha, born of Speakers and thus equipped to use language as she does. Actions are far easier, and being dragged over into Trevor's arms is all that needs to be said right now. Whatever thoughts exist within Trevor's mind right now do not negate the need for Alucard to be precisely where he is right now.
Before Alucard even tries to settle against Trevor, he angles himself at just the right spot to kiss Trevor's forehead. It's sappier than the dhampir might usually risk, but it feels right in this moment to try and be reassuring. Hell if Alucard can articulate why.
Then there's the rest of him. One arm moves down to wrap around Trevor's midsection, and the other moves over his shoulder so Alucard's hand to thread through Trevor's hair. He can lie. Excuse the gesture as starting to pick out all the tiny little knots that are doubtlessly there, but there's no real effort to undo them. That would require sharp, fine vampire fingernails, and Alucard's are pointedly blunt right now. All he cares about is the repetition of the gesture, and that it be a natural thing. Not something that can be read as pity.
There's a soft sigh, one Trevor doubtlessly hears. His next few words are practically whispered.]
[If he tries, Trevor can remember all the times he's been happy over the past few years. Not amused, not drunk, but actually genuinely happy. If he's honest with himself, he was perfectly miserable before he linked up with Sypha and Adrian; drinking away his trust fund and living in his car hadn't exactly been the charmed life he'd imagined for himself. Not that monster-hunting had been much better in the grand scheme of things, and that was still a sorer spot than he wanted to acknowledge.
But Trevor's happy moments? Laughter? Smiles? They were all down to Sypha and Adrian. Now if Trevor could only learn to seek those moments out for himself.
But Adrian's nails against his scalp are more than just comforting. If men could purr, Trevor would be boneless and vibrating beneath Adrian's hands on a daily basis, and he's damn close to it now. His brow relaxes from the furrow it had worked itself into, eyes drifting shut, and one arm tightens minutely around the dhampir's waist.]
Good.
[It's a gruff tone. Tired, but just a tiny bit hopeful.]
[Trevor says good and it feels like progress. When Alucard relays the exchange with Sypha, she'll narrow her eyes and then throw her hands to the air, frustrated by the fact that unfortunately, Alucard is right. For them, it is progress, even if to the rest of the world it is utter nonsense that has no business wearing such a title.
But then the conversation will go to that far too long stretch of time between Trevor's leaving the room and returning with water, and they'll sit and worry for hours. That much is so very normal for them both. Trevor's bad moods are not the easiest thing to understand. (Well, the root causes of them are, but the current complexity that sets any particular one off is the challenge.)
Alucard doesn't change the pace of his hands or shift his weight or do anything to disturb the fragile balance of the moment. He doesn't even make a noise, because that would move the focus from Trevor to himself, and that is not where attention needs to be at this moment in time.
Eventually, Alucard nudes Trevor with a gentle knee.]
Better?
[The last words exchanged between them make it sound plausible that this is a follow up question that statement, rather than checking in on Trevor's mental well being.]
[Had Trevor not been two seconds from dozing, Adrian might have gotten more than a vague grunt in response. Yes, perhaps. No, but I'm getting there, maybe. Probably not You make me better and I'm better for having known you, but the sentiment is there somewhere. Part of Trevor wishes it were as easy to say as it was to think, but if emotional constipation were an Olympic event, Adrian and Trevor would be vying for gold, so--
So it's nothing more than a grunt, at least audibly. But Trevor noses Adrian's hair and presses a lingering kiss to the crown of his head. It's almost shockingly tender and affectionate, but he doubts he'll hear any complaints. Not when most of their more physical encounters involve a good deal of shoving and grabbing on Trevor's part.
And it might be the drowsiness or it might be just how comfortable this all is, but Trevor's lips are suddenly loose, and his voice is a soothing rumble when he murmurs:]
'Something' is good. [Punctuated by a kiss to Adrian's temple.] I'll take 'something.'
[There's a secret that Sypha's figured out, but Trevor hasn't. Not yet, not really, not in any meaningful way. Show the dhampir real, soft, romantic type affection and he practically melts. He's grown up around parents whose own romance is practically stomach churningly sweet, and so to be in a relationship is lean against each other. To mutter stupid terms of endearment, for arguments to be over the little things like Lisa just because the lab equipment is broken you can't use the microwave for chemicals, I said give me ten minutes. Being closer to that makes Alucard happy. Full stop.
That first lingering kiss gets a soft noise of contentment. One that is followed by Alucard closing his eyes and breathing out in a sigh that might be better from a fair maiden threatening to swoon. But it's the next part that makes Alucard weak at the knees (and thank God that he's seated.)
Those words and that kiss. That's more than he's dared to hope for with Trevor. And here it is, raw and as vulnerable as Trevor will allow for the time being. The trick is not to capitalize on it. To only let Trevor be, and to make sure that come morning, this can be built on.]
Mmmm. Agreed.
[The hand stroking through Trevor's hair slows though, and a yawn escapes the dhampir in spite of his best efforts.]
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no subject
Just bring the entire pitcher in and two glasses?
[It's a smarter, more elegant solution. But more than that, it's a request that Trevor actually stay. Linger even. It's the kind of request that has to be made like this, because to be bold and ask him to stay could scuttle this...whatever it is.
Alucard lets out a soft sigh at that thought. They need Sypha home already. At the very least, this is something the dhampir can talk to her about, even if it'll end in Sypha rolling her eyes and demanding everyone just sit down and talk already.]
no subject
He needs to breathe.]
As you wish, my liege.
[Trevor can't even bring himself to make Adrian suffer for his mood. Not after it's been sweet for what's possibly a record amount of time between them. Let it simmer a bit longer before Trevor turns bastard again.
It doesn't take long to get water, even a pitcher of it, with two glasses, which is what makes Trevor's lengthy disappearance somewhat worrying. The kitchen's a God-send of solitude, but the silence is deafening, and a damned drink might help quiet his mind, but they'd thoroughly polished off the last of the liquor last night. Had he thought to get more-- Had he thought, period--
Damn it all, what would Sypha do if she were home right now? Very probably smack Trevor around a bit and insist that he talk about his feelings, which has never been more out of the question, and the notion just irritates the FUCK out of him. Because all signs point to it, and he's never hated any idea more in his life.
In his life, and he there is no way he's being too dramatic about this.
Trevor's in a considerably darker mood when he returns to Adrian's room. He places a glass on Adrian's bedside table, fills it, then rounds to the other side of the bed. But he's abandoned the pitcher at the bedside table, and he's holding an empty glass in one hand. An empty glass he's still holding when he sprawls across the bedcovers, sighs, and then... Then starts glaring at it the moment he realizes it's still fucking empty.
If that's not the last goddamned straw...]
What are we doing with all this, anyway? [The tone's edging on snappy, but there's an undercurrent -- faint -- of something else. Anger, maybe. Fear?
Not that he'll ever admit.]
no subject
Except soon passes, and Trevor doesn't return. Alucard's eyes move over to the clock that sits on his nightstand, the digital numbers telling him that more time has passed than required for such a simple errand. A soft sigh follows that revelation, and it's one laced with worry.]
Of course.
[Two words, said softly and with far more melancholy in them than even Alucard expected. This, whatever it is, it makes Trevor think too much. Alucard is no expert on the man's brain, but he can't imagine that this absence is due to happy thoughts.
He grabs a hairtie from that same nightstand and pulls all of his hair back (it is, unsurprisingly, an absolute mess and not one that's getting addressed until later). It's the only action he has any energy for, and by the time Trevor does return, Alucard is in the same position as before, the only difference being his hair's attempt at decency.
Keen gold eyes watch as Trevor settles down on the bed. Alucard doesn't reach for the water glass immediately either, not until Trevor's settled and...
...the empty glass is concerning. The question is too, but it needs to be put into the open. Sypha would demand that much of them both.]
I...I suppose that's one way to phrase it, yes. [They're words said with a slightly distant tone of voice. One that's carefully considering what to say.] But it leads to the easy response of I don't know.
[Alucard frowns at a flyaway that dares to enter his field of vision.]
I've assumed it is building to something.
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[That's just vague enough to be infuriating, and it taps against Trevor's last remaining nerve. Something. Not that either of them can put words to it, so by all rights, Trevor has no place getting testy about it. Even so...
Even so, that's not the worst answer. Against odds (and Trevor's expectations), Adrian seems amiable to the idea that this isn't just a pastime. A distraction. A release. All those words Trevor parades around his own mind, all the many and varied excuses he invents to ignore what they really are. What this really is.
A connection. Companionship. Affection. Caring. For a man who's at least half what his family's hunted for generations. The irony of it hits harder than anything else, but it comes paired with a solid uppercut of dread and a sudden certainty that he's done for. Utterly and completely ruined.
Trevor pushes a hand over his face, digs the heel of his thumb against his eye and abandons the empty water glass on an emptier stretch of bed. With a huff, he snags Adrian around the waist and drags him close again. Close enough to bury his nose in a pile of soft golden hair, to hook his arm beneath Adrian's shoulders and practically cradle the dhampir against him, to coax the man back into that comfortable tangle they always fall into.
It's no verbal confirmation or gratitude, but it's the closest Trevor can manage to either.]
no subject
Neither is great. Both are apt.
Trevor's mind is in too many places. That much Alucard can say with confidence, even before Trevor reaches for him. It's glaringly obvious from the way Trevor holds himself, and it's probably a good thing there's no more drink in the house. Alucard doubts that this conversation would be happening otherwise.
Not that it's truly much of a conversation, but they are both stubborn idiots. They aren't Sypha, born of Speakers and thus equipped to use language as she does. Actions are far easier, and being dragged over into Trevor's arms is all that needs to be said right now. Whatever thoughts exist within Trevor's mind right now do not negate the need for Alucard to be precisely where he is right now.
Before Alucard even tries to settle against Trevor, he angles himself at just the right spot to kiss Trevor's forehead. It's sappier than the dhampir might usually risk, but it feels right in this moment to try and be reassuring. Hell if Alucard can articulate why.
Then there's the rest of him. One arm moves down to wrap around Trevor's midsection, and the other moves over his shoulder so Alucard's hand to thread through Trevor's hair. He can lie. Excuse the gesture as starting to pick out all the tiny little knots that are doubtlessly there, but there's no real effort to undo them. That would require sharp, fine vampire fingernails, and Alucard's are pointedly blunt right now. All he cares about is the repetition of the gesture, and that it be a natural thing. Not something that can be read as pity.
There's a soft sigh, one Trevor doubtlessly hears. His next few words are practically whispered.]
It makes me happy, whatever it is.
no subject
But Trevor's happy moments? Laughter? Smiles? They were all down to Sypha and Adrian. Now if Trevor could only learn to seek those moments out for himself.
But Adrian's nails against his scalp are more than just comforting. If men could purr, Trevor would be boneless and vibrating beneath Adrian's hands on a daily basis, and he's damn close to it now. His brow relaxes from the furrow it had worked itself into, eyes drifting shut, and one arm tightens minutely around the dhampir's waist.]
Good.
[It's a gruff tone. Tired, but just a tiny bit hopeful.]
no subject
But then the conversation will go to that far too long stretch of time between Trevor's leaving the room and returning with water, and they'll sit and worry for hours. That much is so very normal for them both. Trevor's bad moods are not the easiest thing to understand. (Well, the root causes of them are, but the current complexity that sets any particular one off is the challenge.)
Alucard doesn't change the pace of his hands or shift his weight or do anything to disturb the fragile balance of the moment. He doesn't even make a noise, because that would move the focus from Trevor to himself, and that is not where attention needs to be at this moment in time.
Eventually, Alucard nudes Trevor with a gentle knee.]
Better?
[The last words exchanged between them make it sound plausible that this is a follow up question that statement, rather than checking in on Trevor's mental well being.]
no subject
So it's nothing more than a grunt, at least audibly. But Trevor noses Adrian's hair and presses a lingering kiss to the crown of his head. It's almost shockingly tender and affectionate, but he doubts he'll hear any complaints. Not when most of their more physical encounters involve a good deal of shoving and grabbing on Trevor's part.
And it might be the drowsiness or it might be just how comfortable this all is, but Trevor's lips are suddenly loose, and his voice is a soothing rumble when he murmurs:]
'Something' is good. [Punctuated by a kiss to Adrian's temple.] I'll take 'something.'
no subject
That first lingering kiss gets a soft noise of contentment. One that is followed by Alucard closing his eyes and breathing out in a sigh that might be better from a fair maiden threatening to swoon. But it's the next part that makes Alucard weak at the knees (and thank God that he's seated.)
Those words and that kiss. That's more than he's dared to hope for with Trevor. And here it is, raw and as vulnerable as Trevor will allow for the time being. The trick is not to capitalize on it. To only let Trevor be, and to make sure that come morning, this can be built on.]
Mmmm. Agreed.
[The hand stroking through Trevor's hair slows though, and a yawn escapes the dhampir in spite of his best efforts.]
We should rest.