[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
[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.