Maybe overkill is necessary at this point, though. Because somewhere between the 5-star dinner reservations, literally offering bribes for a private table, and finding a tux to replace the multitude lost in the fire, Trevor forgets to trip himself up over the relative gravity of the situation. Never mind that there's no mistaking this now. There's no way he can play it off as anything other than what it very plainly is, which is to say, a date. With Adrian. And Sypha, if she would just answer her damn phone.
And Adrian's fine with it. More than fine, he's... excited? It's impossible to read tone over text, but he seems eager. And that's a relief at the very least because all Trevor's efforts haven't been for naught. And moreover, the notion that Adrian would actually enjoy a date with him? Without Sypha? That Adrian didn't laugh it off, or straight-up reject the suggestion?
Not that he's giving himself time to worry about it. He's home sooner than the allotted half an hour, hauling his new tuxedo over one shoulder, and Adrian's still in the shower as expected. In the shower, hogging all the hot water, which Trevor's minded less and less since he learned of the dhampir's thirst for warmth.
Never mind it. He has his own shower, and he's never minded running them a bit cool. If he can't make himself look and smell presentable in the span of an hour, he'll consider it an affront to the entire Belmont bloodline.]
[They had been discussing the question of something not that long ago. Alucard wasn't sure if that conversation prompted this actual date date rather than another night of sitting around the house, drinking, and making out. Maybe there was something else going on in Trevor's head.
He shouldn't looking a gift date in the mouth though, not when he gets to go on an actual date.
They're wonderful words to think. They rattle around in his head as he showers, barely aware that Trevor's come home. He's too focused on his wardrobe, what to do with his hair, and what on God's green earth Sypha must be up to if she isn't answering her phone.
The latter is the easiest to take care of once he steps out of the shower. In addition to actual cell phones, Sypha and Alucard had figured out how to make compact viewing mirrors that, for all intents and purposes, were just Facetime but with magic. They were godsends when Sypha had crappy coverage.
Five minutes later, it's clear Sypha isn't making it back for this date, although Alucard has now promised to inform Trevor that he a) owes Sypha a date that's just Trevor and Sypha going somewhere fancy and b) owes all three of them a fancy date together. A true hardship.
Once he's off the phone, everything else happens. Hair (two small braids on other side that meet in an immaculate bun.) Cologne (sandalwood and amber.) Clothes (a black tuxedo with a smear of brilliant, bright red across it, much like a blood smear, with dangling beadwork hanging off the edge.)
And then he sits and waits in the living room, one foot crossed over the other, phone in hand while Alucard waits.]
[For whatever it's worth, Trevor does manage to clean up nicely. It shouldn't be a surprise, considering his upbringing. Because, despite all the recent unpleasantness, the Belmonts were a rather well-to-do family, and along with that came certain obligations. It wasn't all monsterpedias and combat training; sometimes it was charity balls and fundraisers and whatever else generations-old vampire-hunting families had to pull in order to maintain their wealth and societal status. Trevor never cared for that part, never fit, but he can appreciate that it was good training for nights like this.
Good enough that, when he finally makes his way downstairs, he manages to look positively decent. Adrian sees the patent-leather dress shoes first, followed by pressed slacks and a sharp shirt all in black. The jacket is a sharp cut of deep red velvet, somehow perfectly fit to contain all that muscle without appearing bulky, with black lining and a silk pocket square. God help them, he even managed to properly situate the matching red bowtie, and the requested stubble has been uniformly trimmed.
Trevor's still fussing with the cufflinks when he hits the bottom step, but he freezes immediately when his gaze falls on Adrian. The sudden realization strikes him: this is why they never go out. This is why public is off-limits. Because Adrian has managed to arrange himself into some obscene manner of unearthly beauty, dripping jewels and sex appeal like the royalty he is, and Trevor is utterly undone. It's simultaneously insulting and captivating. Beauty like this attracts attention, and the unfair animal part of Trevor is already bristling at the looks Adrian will attract the moment they set foot in that restaurant.
Composure, he reminds himself. But he can't help the slight grin that tugs his lips when he approaches the couch and extends a hand to help Adrian to his feet.]
Is the jacket supposed to be some kind of warning?
[Alucard grew up vaguely aware of the Belmonts but never having to take them seriously. Or any monster hunting type of family, not really. The castle could move. The castle was always nestled snuggly in the mountains of Romania or the Balkans or wherever else Dracula felt was needed. He grew up learning how to defend himself, and all too aware that even among vampires, he was unique in power because he was still the son of Dracula.
So their downfall had mattered little. It was only when Trevor entered his life that Alucard truly sat down and looked at what the reality of being a Belmont was - looking out to the world, rather than the grim night work that had been the family's tradition since the the late 1000s and early 1100s. Nearly a millennia of work, and within modern Romania (after the geopolitics of WWI and II, then the communists). In theory, Alucard knows that the European social elite world was a place Trevor once walked. In theory, that meant dressing like this.
None of that matters. And none of Alucard's skills help mute his reaction either. His eyebrows go up, his eyes widen, and there is a soft noise of being truly impressed and a little overwhelmed at how well fit Trevor's clothes are in this moment. The colors are all too obvious, he does need to maintain those family traditions, but the rest of it? It's nearly obscene how perfect he looks.
Then Alucard thanks Sypha in the back of his mind that they're going to get at least two more days of Trevor in this get up. Best Sypha. The best.
Alucard takes the hand when it's offered, aware that there's a faint touch of red in his cheeks. On a human, they'd be burning red.]
Only for those who need it. I managed to get in touch with Sypha.
[Trevor somehow doubts it, given the time. More's the pity, but he's hardly going to complain about having Adrian at his side all night. He won't admit to having been entranced by the dhampir before, but this particular wardrobe selection has Trevor questioning the notion of thrall. But Trevor elected to trust Adrian a long time ago, and along with that trust comes a certainty that Adrian would never, even if it were possible.
The beading is an interesting touch, though. Trevor has to resist the urge to run his fingers through the bits hanging from Adrian's wrist, which is probably the most mature decision he's made all day. Instead he pulls Adrian up from the couch and wraps an arm tightly around the dhampir's waist, leaning close to press their foreheads together and find that God, Adrian even smells mouthwatering. Trevor's cologne is subtle, musky without being overwhelming, but whatever Adrian's wearing? It reminds Trevor of sin; of sacred things in holy places being utterly defiled by wicked hands.
Trevor almost suggests skipping dinner altogether, almost closes the remaining distance between them to steal the kiss that he's aching for. But that would be defeating the purpose of this night, which was, very simply, that Adrian deserves nice things, and Trevor intends to treat him to them without complaint for once.]
You look... [Trevor pauses to think, because there are a million complimentary adjectives running through his head, and none of them seem sufficient to summarize how weak he's made Trevor. So instead, he settles for:]
No, unfortunately. She's too far away, but has made two requests. First, you take her on a date like this, just the two of you. Second, there is one with all three of us. I told her it wouldn't be a problem, naturally.
[So really, Trevor, you get to clean up twice more in the near future.]
She'll be home in three days, four at the longest.
[The rest of the conversation between Alucard and Sypha had detoured into the dhampir making sad faces at her and saying she's missed. Sypha is far too used to the conversation, and so her immunity to the Sad Dhampir Face is at an all time high.
With their foreheads so closed together, Alucard shifts his own head for just a moment. It's a good opportunity to kiss the tip of Trevor's nose, the gesture momentary but no less sweet for it. Little things like this, they mean the world to Alucard. They always have, and around Sypha, it's easy to plant tiny little surprise kisses during moments of otherwise contented silence. With Trevor, it's trickier. He's pricklier, like a feral cat most days, and so opportunities to show gentler affection need to be approached with caution.
His hands search for somewhere to go - hanging off at his side feels silly. They settle on top of Trevor's hips, brushing against the velvet. The texture is as soft as Alucard expected, a wonderful contrast against the firm muscle underneath. His fingers curl in the fabric, aware that there's a stupid grin on his face.
The pronouncement of how Alucard looks gets a laugh.]
[More dates. Trevor can do this, maybe even happily, but it makes a part of him positively itch to be volunteered for it. It shouldn't; it shouldn't matter, because this is Adrian and Sypha they're talking about, and he wants to do nice things for them. Just--
Never mind, he urges himself. The kiss to his nose is shockingly endearing, and it's just the thing to smooth Trevor's bristles and bring him back to the moment. A moment where Adrian is complimenting him genuinely, and that's possibly the most laughable thing to happen so far this evening. Trevor looks like peasantry next to Adrian, and he probably always will, but that's okay. It doesn't matter what Trevor looks like next to him, because -- inexplicably -- they've chosen each other. Maybe Trevor will be able to put words to that realization someday.
Maybe he'll also be able to express how grateful it makes him feel. For now, he'll have to settle for showing Adrian instead.
The dhampir looks too good to abstain from, especially now that the precedent has been set. Trevor captures his lips softly, just for a moment, thumb trailing idly over Adrian's cheekbone. He only lingers for a moment before drawing away again with a slight smile.]
I think I can manage that.
[Trevor's phone chimes to signal their driver's arrival, and what follows is almost like muscle memory. He keeps his arm out for Adrian as they exit the house and make their way to the car, opens the door and ensures the dhampir is safely inside before rounding to climb in himself. It's a surprising level of politeness from Trevor, all things considered. He confirms the destination to their driver, and starts fussing with his cufflinks again as they pull away. It has to be more nervous energy than practicality at this point.]
Now where on earth [Trevor pauses to cast Adrian a sidelong glance.] did you find a jacket like that?
[There is a brief moment of color on Alucard's otherwise all too pale face when Trevor actually kisses him. It's hardly anything, but the timing of it? That's key, because there's the affection underlying it has a different texture from most of their shared evenings together. A promise of being together for a few more weeks, taking everything with a level of casualty that may not be bad, but Alucard's realized he wants to move beyond.
The word commitment bubbles up to the surface of his mind, and Alucard tests it for a moment. Considers it, then realizes that it's all he wants. Commitment that this is actually serious now, rather than a passing dalliance with no clear cut goal.]
Good, because she should see you like this too.
[Sypha's absolutely missing out. Alucard will sneak a photo at some point to send her, but for now, dinner awaits. They go by the key basket as they walk out the door, and Alucard grabs his set to ensure that they won't be locked out of the house. (Technically, the house will open for Alucard if he comes home without a key. But it's nice to pretend that the house is a normal house rather than a small, city friendly version of the castle that sits over a far more vast crypt that takes up a whole city block.
Once settled in the car, Alucard shifts so that his back is against the space where door and seat meet, eyes on Trevor. He's fiddling with the cufflinks again, and so Alucard gestures for Trevor to extend his wrist.]
It's designer. [He shrugs as he says it, because do the specifics truly matter?] Something about it struck me, and I'm glad I bought it.
[Everything suits Adrian, so by Trevor's figuring, that's more of a generalized statement than a compliment. Everything -- from leather to leggings to nothing -- it all suits Adrian and they both know it. It would hardly be worth commenting on, if not for the fact that it's practically wearing on Trevor tonight. Adrian's appeal is an oppressive force at times, and Trevor is so easily overwhelmed by it.
Two hands are better than one, though. Trevor offers his wrist across the seat to Adrian, a small smile tugging at one corner of his lips. And, if Adrian cares to notice, the embellished buttons are gold, inlaid with garnet. Not a drop of silver to be found.]
[Alucard doesn't hold back the laugh that follows. It's a light thing, taken aback and impressed. No, the pun probably wasn't on purpose knowing Trevor, but it's worth asking all the same. Worth being surprised and delighted all the same. There's a part of Alucard, one that operates on a deeper level, that wants to pull all those lighter parts of Trevor to the surface, to encourage them to stay. That part of Alucard isn't in charge, but all the same, it works.
Once Trevor has extended his wrist, Alucard's quick to fasten the links with minimum fuss. It's all nimble fingers, no stinging of silver in spite of the Belmont colors, and that gets a pleased hum by the time Alucard finishes.]
It really helps to have a second set of hands to deal with them.
[Trevor has to stop and think; was what a pun? The realization strikes him a beat or two later than it should, and he smirks with a slow shake of his head.]
Dork.
[It's not an insult if it's the truth. Adrian and Sypha are total nerds; Trevor's told them as much, and their acknowledgement makes it all the more entertaining. But it's endearing. Everything they do is adorable. The more Trevor allows himself to acknowledge that truth, the freer -- and more foolish -- he feels.
They rarely poke fun at his more vulnerable moments. Sypha recognizes them for what they are, and throws the occasional good-natured jibe. Adrian treats them with respect, almost handles them with kid gloves. But neither of them has ever made Trevor regret opening up to them or feeling anything. That's crucial, and it's far more than Trevor's ever gotten from his family.
Adrian and Sypha are starting to feel safe.]
You certainly know your way around a man's wrist. It's practically indecent.
[Trevor's called Alucard worse than dork or nerd anyway. Early on, it was only vampire or Alucard's name with an unwanted gravity that made Alucard chafe. These days, it's easier. Better for certain, and it's lead to a far better relationship than Alucard ever anticipated.
He's still unsure what his father makes of it. Alucard does know that he doesn't care.]
We both know I'm familiar with more than just wrists. Speaking of, give me your other.
[He motions for the other set of cufflinks, knowing the second set will be much easier to deal with than the first.]
How far is this place from the house anyway?
[Trevor's not given him the name of the place, the address, any identifying features besides extremely fancy.]
[Trevor adjusts in the seat to extend his other wrist toward Adrian. Perhaps it's not entirely necessary to rest his other hand on Adrian's knee, but he does it anyway. It's subtle affection, not enough to draw their driver's attention, but moreover, Trevor's testing the waters. For all their past intimacy, this will be the first time they've graced a public venue in any kind of romantic capacity. They should probably understand where their lines are drawn.
Belatedly, it occurs to Trevor that maybe boundaries should have been established before they left the house.]
About ten minutes. It will probably depend on traffic. You'll like it, I think. There's supposedly a live string quartet.
[Trevor casts Adrian a sidelong glance, then focuses his attention on the dhampir's hands instead.]
Anything I should know before we arrive? [Trevor's lowered his voice, gone a bit somber.] Limitations on hand-holding? Dancing? Anything you'd find distasteful in public?
[For all his false bravado, Trevor almost seems nervous tonight.]
[Alucard finishes with the other cufflink with a bit more speed than the first. He understands the particular fastening, after all, so the work is quicker. But with that done, there's no excuse other than desire to keep touching that wrist.
It's the most natural movement in the world when Alucard's fingers move and lace together with Trevors, cooler hand against warm. Of course Alucard's hands are smoother, with none of the callouses of monster work done over the decades. That contrast is one that the dhampir takes joy in, just like the differences in body temperatures, just like how their natural shapes are at odds. (He's too slender, even if it's all muscle. Trevor's build is wider, and if Alucard was being honest, he found it more attractive than his own.)]
Mmm, yes. It already sounds perfect.
[It's an important question. It's one that requires a considered answer, and Alucard is thoughtful before giving a response.]
Nothing too lingering in the kiss department, if only out of fear of the two of us getting carried away. [It's been known to happen.] Beyond that, whatever you feel safe doing.
[If allies see him smooching a dhampir, for example, that might not be ideal.]
[It's a simpler answer than he'd expected, and that's enough to raise both alarm and Trevor's brow. It can't be that easy, can it? Adrian's handing the reins over to Trevor like he's comfortable with however this transpires, and Trevor's not sure why that surprises him, because-- Well, when it comes right down to it, that's been a bulk of their relationship; Trevor setting the pace, and Adrian falling into step beside him, unflinching. As if Adrian's expecting -- and embracing -- every step before Trevor even takes it.
Nothing's ever come easy for Trevor. Nothing this simple has ever been this beautiful.
Momentarily lost for words, Trevor brings Adrian's hand to his lips instead, and presses a lingering kiss to the dhampir's knuckles. He's not sure why it's so sobering to realize that things can pass so easily between them. Maybe it's unknowable, and maybe for once in his damn life, Trevor doesn't have to destroy everything important to find the answer. Maybe it can just... be. Without Trevor complicating everything.]
Free reign? I think you're going to regret that. [Trevor smirks.] I feel like they taught me Viennese waltzes just to prepare me for you.
[There is a small and impossibly warm smile on Alucard's face when Trecor kisses his knuckles just so. He's never articulated what makes him happiest while dating - all the small, little gestures - mostly because calling it dating seemed like a bad idea. Alucard has been matching Trevor's pace to make the man more comfortable with the situation, and that has often meant forgoing some obvious statements.
But this evening is more than likely to lay certain preferences bare, and that's fine by Alucard. Let tonight be the start of a new chapter for all three of them.]
I bet you say that to all your dance partners.
[A laugh is threaded through those worse, and Alucard is all but beaming at Trevor.]
[Trevor smirks, but it seems impolitic to point out that he can't even remember the last time he's danced. He's sure he'll remember the steps, fall into them just like climbing back on a bike, but there's another implication hanging on that admission. It's a lonely implication, and Trevor needn't call that to mind now that -- against all odds -- he's finally found suitable company.
More than suitable. They've been like a delicate dance themselves, and sometimes the missteps are torture, but the rhythm is completely irresistible.
It's another few minutes before the car lumbers to a stop before their destination. The place is ostentatious, to say the least; all sleek modern edges and glowing fountains, and without even looking inside, Trevor would bet money on the presence of Chihuly chandeliers.]
Wait here a moment.
[Trevor nods his thanks to their driver as he climbs out, then circles around to open Adrian's door. And of course, like the proper gentleman Adrian's suddenly discovered in him, he's offered his arm to the dhampir as well.]
[Alucard falls into a content, companionable silence for the rest of the ride, his fingers still laced with Trevor's. It's Trevor's window that he looks out of the entire ride, eyes carefully clocking the streets of Bucharest as they fly past. He knows the city well (he has to, he lives here, he's doing his damn masters here, he does volunteer hours for the arms and armory department in one of the museums), and all of that means that Alucard has a fair idea of at least the district they're heading towards.
The car jostles every so often, causing the beads of Alucard's jacket to brush against Trevor's wrist. There's an apologetic look every time, and Alucard vows that on the way back, he'll just take the middle seat and lean against Trevor the entire time.
There's no protest when they arrive and Alucard is told to wait to get out of the car. He's practically cheering for the statement, as silly and ridiculous as it sounds. This is a date in every way that matters, and he could practically scream from the joy of it all. He's made a promise to himself not to question what has spurred Trevor to acting like this. It's happened. Alucard's happy enough for that.
He takes Trevor's arm when it's offered, aware that the ground beneath their feet are cobblestones placed for elegance and the city's more touristy old world feel. Doesn't matter. It's right for this moment. Right for walking up to the front doors of an all too fancy and expensive restaurant with his boyfriend, the two of them looking far better than they have any right to.
There's a moment when Alucard leans in, right as the doorman opens the door for them both.]
[Trevor's genuinely baffled, but Adrian doesn't have time to answer before Trevor becomes preoccupied with reservation details with the host. It's a brief exchange before they're being shown to their table. The booth they're shown to is well-away from the kitchens and main thoroughfare, perhaps not exactly private but the panels are high enough to give the illusion. The place is dimly-lit as a whole, and the candles at each table lend to the overall ambiance. And as promised, a string quartet occupies one corner of the place, drawing out subdued melodies just loudly enough to not draw attention to themselves.
It's not bad, by Trevor's estimation. Formal to be sure, but not as pretentious as the places he used to visit with his family, which is a definite point in its favor. But the champagne already chilling at their table? That's just a bonus, and the host is kind enough to fill their glasses and leave their menus before shuffling off again.
Trevor stays at Adrian's side, ensures he's settled and comfortable in his booth before slipping into the one across from him.]
Thoughts? It's not what I expected but that's probably a good thing.
[There is indeed no time to answer. The reservation is much more important, and for all the world, Alucard is still stunned that this is happening at all. He'd have been happy enough going to a bar with Trevor, never mind sitting in a place that's probably...well. He's not paying attention to the menu prices until he absolutely must, nor thinking about how expensive bottle service must be. It'll be ridiculous, and that is that.
The only problem in all of this (and there are so few problems) is where Trevor sits. He's across from Alucard, not beside him, and if that's the only complaint of the evening, well. That speaks volumes. This place's intimacy is already far more than Alucard would ever dare to hope for, and it's why his response is absolutely besotted.]
It's perfect.
[And in truth, those are all the words that Alucard has.]
[It's perfect. Trevor's never been the sort to crave approval, but Adrian's clearly overjoyed with this, and that-- It feels good. It feels so much better than fighting ever did; better than bites and barbs and ice and distance. To see Adrian genuinely happy, sincerely grateful for Trevor's effort, is damn-near the best thing Trevor's ever felt.
It is perfect, if only because Adrian is happy with it. This is never something Trevor would do of his own volition, but Adrian's so besotted (and that alone is something of an unbelievable sight) that Trevor's making a mental note to arrange things like this more often.]
I'm glad. I worried you might think it was too... You know. Too much.
[Alucard's reaction to that is to nudge Trevor under the table with a foot. On some other day, it'd be a swifter, more powerful thing of real irritation. Here and now, it's a gentle correction, a way to say bullshit without swearing inside a classy establishment like the one they're in.]
Sometimes over the top is exactly the right amount.
[Alucard's right hand definitely reaches for the champagne class, but his other lays flat on the table, vaguely extended in Trevor's direction.]
And you're reinforced the fact we are absolutely doing this for Sypha when she's back. Her reaction to this kind of place will be priceless.
[Trevor smirks, and his shoulders shake with silent laughter as he unconsciously reaches out to rest his hand over Adrian's. He can't even predict Sypha's reaction to a place like this. She'll either be overjoyed, disgusted, or some strange mix of overjoyed disgust. Either way, it'll be delightful to see.]
I'm sure she looks better in a tuxedo than either of us. Does she even own a dress?
[Trevor resists the urge to point out that Adrian would look decent in an evening gown as well.]
Goodness. [Alucard pauses, taking his sweet time to not only envision the glory of Sypha in a tux, but in how she'd walk in it. What cuts would flatter her best, and how a hat may very well enhance the entire ensemble even more. It's an image that leaves a flush of pink in his cheeks.] I'll be thinking about that for a while yet.
[Which means that if it ever happens, Alucard will be utterly beside himself.]
I genuinely don't know if she owns a dress. I know she has skirts, I've seen her wear them before, but being a Speaker, I don't suspect she has a dress that would....conform to standards here, for a lack of a better phrase.
[He could be wrong. God, Alucard wants to be wrong and stunned into silence. But for now, he can lie back when he's alone and reflect on that mental image.
Until then, there are other important matters. He takes the champagne in hand, and his thumb runs slowly and softly over Trevor's knuckles.]
[Skirts. Adrian had to say that word, and it immediately short-circuits Trevor into a stunned silence. Trevor appreciates skirts. More accurately, he appreciates legs, and most skirts afford a generous view of the legs they contain. Sypha has nice legs; he'd like to see her in a skirt. Adrian also has nice legs...
Being in whatever this is with both of them has manufactured some inordinately strange trains of thought for Trevor. Clothing, for example. The notion of anything even vaguely attractive becomes a mental struggle between whether Sypha or Adrian would look better in it. They're about even so far, not that Trevor's keeping score, but it's a nigh-daily curse now.
But a toast. Yes. Trevor centers himself, takes up his glass, and draws a slow breath, because--
Words are hard. Finding the right words that won't sound ridiculous is harder still.]
To... [Something, he's tempted to say. But that's not what Adrian wants to hear.] To the luckiest man in the world, who's making a complete idiot of himself and enjoying every moment, because he's doing it beside you.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
We're going on a fancy date, don't make it weird
[This feels like overkill.
Maybe overkill is necessary at this point, though. Because somewhere between the 5-star dinner reservations, literally offering bribes for a private table, and finding a tux to replace the multitude lost in the fire, Trevor forgets to trip himself up over the relative gravity of the situation. Never mind that there's no mistaking this now. There's no way he can play it off as anything other than what it very plainly is, which is to say, a date. With Adrian.
And Sypha, if she would just answer her damn phone.And Adrian's fine with it. More than fine, he's... excited? It's impossible to read tone over text, but he seems eager. And that's a relief at the very least because all Trevor's efforts haven't been for naught. And moreover, the notion that Adrian would actually enjoy a date with him? Without Sypha? That Adrian didn't laugh it off, or straight-up reject the suggestion?
Not that he's giving himself time to worry about it. He's home sooner than the allotted half an hour, hauling his new tuxedo over one shoulder, and Adrian's still in the shower as expected. In the shower, hogging all the hot water, which Trevor's minded less and less since he learned of the dhampir's thirst for warmth.
Never mind it. He has his own shower, and he's never minded running them a bit cool. If he can't make himself look and smell presentable in the span of an hour, he'll consider it an affront to the entire Belmont bloodline.]
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He shouldn't looking a gift date in the mouth though, not when he gets to go on an actual date.
They're wonderful words to think. They rattle around in his head as he showers, barely aware that Trevor's come home. He's too focused on his wardrobe, what to do with his hair, and what on God's green earth Sypha must be up to if she isn't answering her phone.
The latter is the easiest to take care of once he steps out of the shower. In addition to actual cell phones, Sypha and Alucard had figured out how to make compact viewing mirrors that, for all intents and purposes, were just Facetime but with magic. They were godsends when Sypha had crappy coverage.
Five minutes later, it's clear Sypha isn't making it back for this date, although Alucard has now promised to inform Trevor that he a) owes Sypha a date that's just Trevor and Sypha going somewhere fancy and b) owes all three of them a fancy date together. A true hardship.
Once he's off the phone, everything else happens. Hair (two small braids on other side that meet in an immaculate bun.) Cologne (sandalwood and amber.) Clothes (a black tuxedo with a smear of brilliant, bright red across it, much like a blood smear, with dangling beadwork hanging off the edge.)
And then he sits and waits in the living room, one foot crossed over the other, phone in hand while Alucard waits.]
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Good enough that, when he finally makes his way downstairs, he manages to look positively decent. Adrian sees the patent-leather dress shoes first, followed by pressed slacks and a sharp shirt all in black. The jacket is a sharp cut of deep red velvet, somehow perfectly fit to contain all that muscle without appearing bulky, with black lining and a silk pocket square. God help them, he even managed to properly situate the matching red bowtie, and the requested stubble has been uniformly trimmed.
Trevor's still fussing with the cufflinks when he hits the bottom step, but he freezes immediately when his gaze falls on Adrian. The sudden realization strikes him: this is why they never go out. This is why public is off-limits. Because Adrian has managed to arrange himself into some obscene manner of unearthly beauty, dripping jewels and sex appeal like the royalty he is, and Trevor is utterly undone. It's simultaneously insulting and captivating. Beauty like this attracts attention, and the unfair animal part of Trevor is already bristling at the looks Adrian will attract the moment they set foot in that restaurant.
Composure, he reminds himself. But he can't help the slight grin that tugs his lips when he approaches the couch and extends a hand to help Adrian to his feet.]
Is the jacket supposed to be some kind of warning?
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So their downfall had mattered little. It was only when Trevor entered his life that Alucard truly sat down and looked at what the reality of being a Belmont was - looking out to the world, rather than the grim night work that had been the family's tradition since the the late 1000s and early 1100s. Nearly a millennia of work, and within modern Romania (after the geopolitics of WWI and II, then the communists). In theory, Alucard knows that the European social elite world was a place Trevor once walked. In theory, that meant dressing like this.
None of that matters. And none of Alucard's skills help mute his reaction either. His eyebrows go up, his eyes widen, and there is a soft noise of being truly impressed and a little overwhelmed at how well fit Trevor's clothes are in this moment. The colors are all too obvious, he does need to maintain those family traditions, but the rest of it? It's nearly obscene how perfect he looks.
Then Alucard thanks Sypha in the back of his mind that they're going to get at least two more days of Trevor in this get up. Best Sypha. The best.
Alucard takes the hand when it's offered, aware that there's a faint touch of red in his cheeks. On a human, they'd be burning red.]
Only for those who need it. I managed to get in touch with Sypha.
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[Trevor somehow doubts it, given the time. More's the pity, but he's hardly going to complain about having Adrian at his side all night. He won't admit to having been entranced by the dhampir before, but this particular wardrobe selection has Trevor questioning the notion of thrall. But Trevor elected to trust Adrian a long time ago, and along with that trust comes a certainty that Adrian would never, even if it were possible.
The beading is an interesting touch, though. Trevor has to resist the urge to run his fingers through the bits hanging from Adrian's wrist, which is probably the most mature decision he's made all day. Instead he pulls Adrian up from the couch and wraps an arm tightly around the dhampir's waist, leaning close to press their foreheads together and find that God, Adrian even smells mouthwatering. Trevor's cologne is subtle, musky without being overwhelming, but whatever Adrian's wearing? It reminds Trevor of sin; of sacred things in holy places being utterly defiled by wicked hands.
Trevor almost suggests skipping dinner altogether, almost closes the remaining distance between them to steal the kiss that he's aching for. But that would be defeating the purpose of this night, which was, very simply, that Adrian deserves nice things, and Trevor intends to treat him to them without complaint for once.]
You look... [Trevor pauses to think, because there are a million complimentary adjectives running through his head, and none of them seem sufficient to summarize how weak he's made Trevor. So instead, he settles for:]
Decent.
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[So really, Trevor, you get to clean up twice more in the near future.]
She'll be home in three days, four at the longest.
[The rest of the conversation between Alucard and Sypha had detoured into the dhampir making sad faces at her and saying she's missed. Sypha is far too used to the conversation, and so her immunity to the Sad Dhampir Face is at an all time high.
With their foreheads so closed together, Alucard shifts his own head for just a moment. It's a good opportunity to kiss the tip of Trevor's nose, the gesture momentary but no less sweet for it. Little things like this, they mean the world to Alucard. They always have, and around Sypha, it's easy to plant tiny little surprise kisses during moments of otherwise contented silence. With Trevor, it's trickier. He's pricklier, like a feral cat most days, and so opportunities to show gentler affection need to be approached with caution.
His hands search for somewhere to go - hanging off at his side feels silly. They settle on top of Trevor's hips, brushing against the velvet. The texture is as soft as Alucard expected, a wonderful contrast against the firm muscle underneath. His fingers curl in the fabric, aware that there's a stupid grin on his face.
The pronouncement of how Alucard looks gets a laugh.]
You clean up pretty well too.
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Never mind, he urges himself. The kiss to his nose is shockingly endearing, and it's just the thing to smooth Trevor's bristles and bring him back to the moment. A moment where Adrian is complimenting him genuinely, and that's possibly the most laughable thing to happen so far this evening. Trevor looks like peasantry next to Adrian, and he probably always will, but that's okay. It doesn't matter what Trevor looks like next to him, because -- inexplicably -- they've chosen each other. Maybe Trevor will be able to put words to that realization someday.
Maybe he'll also be able to express how grateful it makes him feel. For now, he'll have to settle for showing Adrian instead.
The dhampir looks too good to abstain from, especially now that the precedent has been set. Trevor captures his lips softly, just for a moment, thumb trailing idly over Adrian's cheekbone. He only lingers for a moment before drawing away again with a slight smile.]
I think I can manage that.
[Trevor's phone chimes to signal their driver's arrival, and what follows is almost like muscle memory. He keeps his arm out for Adrian as they exit the house and make their way to the car, opens the door and ensures the dhampir is safely inside before rounding to climb in himself. It's a surprising level of politeness from Trevor, all things considered. He confirms the destination to their driver, and starts fussing with his cufflinks again as they pull away. It has to be more nervous energy than practicality at this point.]
Now where on earth [Trevor pauses to cast Adrian a sidelong glance.] did you find a jacket like that?
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The word commitment bubbles up to the surface of his mind, and Alucard tests it for a moment. Considers it, then realizes that it's all he wants. Commitment that this is actually serious now, rather than a passing dalliance with no clear cut goal.]
Good, because she should see you like this too.
[Sypha's absolutely missing out. Alucard will sneak a photo at some point to send her, but for now, dinner awaits. They go by the key basket as they walk out the door, and Alucard grabs his set to ensure that they won't be locked out of the house. (Technically, the house will open for Alucard if he comes home without a key. But it's nice to pretend that the house is a normal house rather than a small, city friendly version of the castle that sits over a far more vast crypt that takes up a whole city block.
Once settled in the car, Alucard shifts so that his back is against the space where door and seat meet, eyes on Trevor. He's fiddling with the cufflinks again, and so Alucard gestures for Trevor to extend his wrist.]
It's designer. [He shrugs as he says it, because do the specifics truly matter?] Something about it struck me, and I'm glad I bought it.
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[Everything suits Adrian, so by Trevor's figuring, that's more of a generalized statement than a compliment. Everything -- from leather to leggings to nothing -- it all suits Adrian and they both know it. It would hardly be worth commenting on, if not for the fact that it's practically wearing on Trevor tonight. Adrian's appeal is an oppressive force at times, and Trevor is so easily overwhelmed by it.
Two hands are better than one, though. Trevor offers his wrist across the seat to Adrian, a small smile tugging at one corner of his lips. And, if Adrian cares to notice, the embellished buttons are gold, inlaid with garnet. Not a drop of silver to be found.]
Never could get the hang of these damn things.
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[Alucard doesn't hold back the laugh that follows. It's a light thing, taken aback and impressed. No, the pun probably wasn't on purpose knowing Trevor, but it's worth asking all the same. Worth being surprised and delighted all the same. There's a part of Alucard, one that operates on a deeper level, that wants to pull all those lighter parts of Trevor to the surface, to encourage them to stay. That part of Alucard isn't in charge, but all the same, it works.
Once Trevor has extended his wrist, Alucard's quick to fasten the links with minimum fuss. It's all nimble fingers, no stinging of silver in spite of the Belmont colors, and that gets a pleased hum by the time Alucard finishes.]
It really helps to have a second set of hands to deal with them.
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Dork.
[It's not an insult if it's the truth. Adrian and Sypha are total nerds; Trevor's told them as much, and their acknowledgement makes it all the more entertaining. But it's endearing. Everything they do is adorable. The more Trevor allows himself to acknowledge that truth, the freer -- and more foolish -- he feels.
They rarely poke fun at his more vulnerable moments. Sypha recognizes them for what they are, and throws the occasional good-natured jibe. Adrian treats them with respect, almost handles them with kid gloves. But neither of them has ever made Trevor regret opening up to them or feeling anything. That's crucial, and it's far more than Trevor's ever gotten from his family.
Adrian and Sypha are starting to feel safe.]
You certainly know your way around a man's wrist. It's practically indecent.
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[Trevor's called Alucard worse than dork or nerd anyway. Early on, it was only vampire or Alucard's name with an unwanted gravity that made Alucard chafe. These days, it's easier. Better for certain, and it's lead to a far better relationship than Alucard ever anticipated.
He's still unsure what his father makes of it. Alucard does know that he doesn't care.]
We both know I'm familiar with more than just wrists. Speaking of, give me your other.
[He motions for the other set of cufflinks, knowing the second set will be much easier to deal with than the first.]
How far is this place from the house anyway?
[Trevor's not given him the name of the place, the address, any identifying features besides extremely fancy.]
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Belatedly, it occurs to Trevor that maybe boundaries should have been established before they left the house.]
About ten minutes. It will probably depend on traffic. You'll like it, I think. There's supposedly a live string quartet.
[Trevor casts Adrian a sidelong glance, then focuses his attention on the dhampir's hands instead.]
Anything I should know before we arrive? [Trevor's lowered his voice, gone a bit somber.] Limitations on hand-holding? Dancing? Anything you'd find distasteful in public?
[For all his false bravado, Trevor almost seems nervous tonight.]
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It's the most natural movement in the world when Alucard's fingers move and lace together with Trevors, cooler hand against warm. Of course Alucard's hands are smoother, with none of the callouses of monster work done over the decades. That contrast is one that the dhampir takes joy in, just like the differences in body temperatures, just like how their natural shapes are at odds. (He's too slender, even if it's all muscle. Trevor's build is wider, and if Alucard was being honest, he found it more attractive than his own.)]
Mmm, yes. It already sounds perfect.
[It's an important question. It's one that requires a considered answer, and Alucard is thoughtful before giving a response.]
Nothing too lingering in the kiss department, if only out of fear of the two of us getting carried away. [It's been known to happen.] Beyond that, whatever you feel safe doing.
[If allies see him smooching a dhampir, for example, that might not be ideal.]
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Nothing's ever come easy for Trevor. Nothing this simple has ever been this beautiful.
Momentarily lost for words, Trevor brings Adrian's hand to his lips instead, and presses a lingering kiss to the dhampir's knuckles. He's not sure why it's so sobering to realize that things can pass so easily between them. Maybe it's unknowable, and maybe for once in his damn life, Trevor doesn't have to destroy everything important to find the answer. Maybe it can just... be. Without Trevor complicating everything.]
Free reign? I think you're going to regret that. [Trevor smirks.] I feel like they taught me Viennese waltzes just to prepare me for you.
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But this evening is more than likely to lay certain preferences bare, and that's fine by Alucard. Let tonight be the start of a new chapter for all three of them.]
I bet you say that to all your dance partners.
[A laugh is threaded through those worse, and Alucard is all but beaming at Trevor.]
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More than suitable. They've been like a delicate dance themselves, and sometimes the missteps are torture, but the rhythm is completely irresistible.
It's another few minutes before the car lumbers to a stop before their destination. The place is ostentatious, to say the least; all sleek modern edges and glowing fountains, and without even looking inside, Trevor would bet money on the presence of Chihuly chandeliers.]
Wait here a moment.
[Trevor nods his thanks to their driver as he climbs out, then circles around to open Adrian's door. And of course, like the proper gentleman Adrian's suddenly discovered in him, he's offered his arm to the dhampir as well.]
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The car jostles every so often, causing the beads of Alucard's jacket to brush against Trevor's wrist. There's an apologetic look every time, and Alucard vows that on the way back, he'll just take the middle seat and lean against Trevor the entire time.
There's no protest when they arrive and Alucard is told to wait to get out of the car. He's practically cheering for the statement, as silly and ridiculous as it sounds. This is a date in every way that matters, and he could practically scream from the joy of it all. He's made a promise to himself not to question what has spurred Trevor to acting like this. It's happened. Alucard's happy enough for that.
He takes Trevor's arm when it's offered, aware that the ground beneath their feet are cobblestones placed for elegance and the city's more touristy old world feel. Doesn't matter. It's right for this moment. Right for walking up to the front doors of an all too fancy and expensive restaurant with his boyfriend, the two of them looking far better than they have any right to.
There's a moment when Alucard leans in, right as the doorman opens the door for them both.]
Thank you.
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[Trevor's genuinely baffled, but Adrian doesn't have time to answer before Trevor becomes preoccupied with reservation details with the host. It's a brief exchange before they're being shown to their table. The booth they're shown to is well-away from the kitchens and main thoroughfare, perhaps not exactly private but the panels are high enough to give the illusion. The place is dimly-lit as a whole, and the candles at each table lend to the overall ambiance. And as promised, a string quartet occupies one corner of the place, drawing out subdued melodies just loudly enough to not draw attention to themselves.
It's not bad, by Trevor's estimation. Formal to be sure, but not as pretentious as the places he used to visit with his family, which is a definite point in its favor. But the champagne already chilling at their table? That's just a bonus, and the host is kind enough to fill their glasses and leave their menus before shuffling off again.
Trevor stays at Adrian's side, ensures he's settled and comfortable in his booth before slipping into the one across from him.]
Thoughts? It's not what I expected but that's probably a good thing.
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[There is indeed no time to answer. The reservation is much more important, and for all the world, Alucard is still stunned that this is happening at all. He'd have been happy enough going to a bar with Trevor, never mind sitting in a place that's probably...well. He's not paying attention to the menu prices until he absolutely must, nor thinking about how expensive bottle service must be. It'll be ridiculous, and that is that.
The only problem in all of this (and there are so few problems) is where Trevor sits. He's across from Alucard, not beside him, and if that's the only complaint of the evening, well. That speaks volumes. This place's intimacy is already far more than Alucard would ever dare to hope for, and it's why his response is absolutely besotted.]
It's perfect.
[And in truth, those are all the words that Alucard has.]
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It is perfect, if only because Adrian is happy with it. This is never something Trevor would do of his own volition, but Adrian's so besotted (and that alone is something of an unbelievable sight) that Trevor's making a mental note to arrange things like this more often.]
I'm glad. I worried you might think it was too... You know. Too much.
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Sometimes over the top is exactly the right amount.
[Alucard's right hand definitely reaches for the champagne class, but his other lays flat on the table, vaguely extended in Trevor's direction.]
And you're reinforced the fact we are absolutely doing this for Sypha when she's back. Her reaction to this kind of place will be priceless.
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I'm sure she looks better in a tuxedo than either of us. Does she even own a dress?
[Trevor resists the urge to point out that Adrian would look decent in an evening gown as well.]
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[Which means that if it ever happens, Alucard will be utterly beside himself.]
I genuinely don't know if she owns a dress. I know she has skirts, I've seen her wear them before, but being a Speaker, I don't suspect she has a dress that would....conform to standards here, for a lack of a better phrase.
[He could be wrong. God, Alucard wants to be wrong and stunned into silence. But for now, he can lie back when he's alone and reflect on that mental image.
Until then, there are other important matters. He takes the champagne in hand, and his thumb runs slowly and softly over Trevor's knuckles.]
Did you have a toast in mind?
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Being in whatever this is with both of them has manufactured some inordinately strange trains of thought for Trevor. Clothing, for example. The notion of anything even vaguely attractive becomes a mental struggle between whether Sypha or Adrian would look better in it. They're about even so far, not that Trevor's keeping score, but it's a nigh-daily curse now.
But a toast. Yes. Trevor centers himself, takes up his glass, and draws a slow breath, because--
Words are hard. Finding the right words that won't sound ridiculous is harder still.]
To... [Something, he's tempted to say. But that's not what Adrian wants to hear.] To the luckiest man in the world, who's making a complete idiot of himself and enjoying every moment, because he's doing it beside you.
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