[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.
[That toast gets a soft laugh out of Alucard, and he raises his glass.]
I don't know if I'll drink to all of that, but I can toast to the spirit of it.
[It's wonderful, the weight of the glass in his hand. The clinkof the glasses together. The music that weaves it's way through and makes the whole moment absolute perfect.]
And be very glad that neither of us have to drive back. We're consuming the whole of this bottle.
[Champagne is a bit out of Trevor's wheelhouse. He's used to harder liquor and heavy lagers, but he's not going to look a gift drink in the mouth. And it's not bad (he thinks), just not his usual style.
But they are drinking the entire bottle, and it's not entirely up to the dignified standard of the place to drain his entire flute in one go, but there's something that needs discussing tonight, and Trevor can probably grace it better with a bit of liquid courage behind his words. For whatever it's worth, he doesn't make it look undignified.]
Did your family ever come to places like this when you were growing up? We did, every now and then.
[It's never something Alucard has explicitly stated, but he grew up in the castle outside of humanity, as much as his mother protested the matter at first. The only reason Lisa Tepes had relented was due to Alucard's rapid aging. To expose him to the world was a danger, and that she wouldn't abide. Even though it meant her son would be isolated. Alucard knew it always bothered her.
He doesn't let the thought linger. Not when there happier memories.]
They went out though. A lot, sometimes dressed even more elaborately than we are, others my mother was just dragging him to see a movie which he almost always hated. I think she just liked hearing his critical thoughts after.
[Trevor probably didn't expect the Alucard's Parents Relationship department to happen, but oh well. Alucard's too proud of the two most days, and it shows in the warmth of his voice now.]
[Adrian's always spoken so highly of his family. Defying Trevor's expectations once again, they actually sound like a happy family. Decent parents, who probably allowed Adrian to be a child at some point in his young life, rather than forcing him through endless drills and battle formations and paces and sparring and--
Casual alcoholism. Trevor refills their glasses and takes another sip of his own drink. This line of thinking isn't entirely fair, he knows this. Not to himself, and not to his family. The Belmonts were odd, for lack of a better word. But they weren't necessarily bad. Trevor's still learning to distinguish between the two, and that's part of the struggle in all this nonsense between himself and Adrian. Or even, himself, Adrian and Sypha. It's not normal by any standards he's known, but that doesn't mean it's bad.
And in any case, he's quite enjoying it.]
Do you like going to the movies? Or the theater? I'd have pegged you for box seats at the opera, but not cinema.
I've actually never attended an opera before. [Alucard shrugs, although he is careful to keep an eye on how quickly Trevor refills their glasses. He's not going to comment on the matter so early in the evening, but...
...he and Sypha know how to deal with Trevor's alcohol consumption. As long as it's just the bottle between the two of them and then a dinner wine, it's fine. Just enough to make sure the evening's nerves are gone, and if they both go to bed tonight having done no more than kissed, then that's perfectly fine by the dhampir.]
And yes, if our Netflix subscription and various art house streaming subscriptions didn't tell you, I do enjoy movies. Nearly as much as my mother and I enjoy watching my father complain. We used to see a film, place bets about what he'd complain about, then take him out to see who'd win.
[Those were good memories. The films were ranged from animated to deeply serious to just about anything from the Fast and the Furious franchise on principle. And there's a very thin, pained smile from that memory too. Ever since his mother's medical liscence was revoked it has been...fragile, back at the castle. Hard.]
Were you particularly young when you started getting dragged to places like this?
[Trevor has to stifle a snicker behind one hand, because something about the notion of Dracula bitching about movies is more entertaining than it has any right to be. It lends him a degree of humanity Trevor had never considered before Adrian came into his life, and it's as disconcerting as it is endearing. Trevor doesn't even question it anymore. He's sure there are only so many times Adrian can hear You're kidding, there is no way Dracula actually... before it gets nauseating.
But that's not the half of it on this particular point. Trevor shrugs, gesturing vaguely with one hand.]
Not places like this. I wouldn't bore you with the places my family dragged me to. They're... sycophantic. There's no heart or quality to it, just-- Just appearances, you know? Charity balls and award dinners, because God forbid you get on the Duke's bad side and lose his sponsorship; better to kiss ass and save face than actually do anything worthwhile for society.
[From Trevor's tone, it sounds as if worthwhile translates to anything but hunting monsters.]
So yes. They were parading me around from the time I was five or so. In tiny suits, with shoes I never kept on and always got a wollop for.
[Trevor's hand tightens momentarily around Adrian's, then relaxes again when he forces himself back to the present.]
But you've never been to an opera? [It's almost incredulous.] Carmen? Madama Butterfly? Tosca?
[In fairness, somrt of it is because it's just so much fun to get Dracula going, especially when it came to the world outside of the castle. Dracula is still a man of invention, but for all that he might have ever been able to predict cameras and film and all the other parts of it, he alone could not create content.
And no way he could dream up Hamlet But With Lions.
Alucard is careful to listen though. Trevor talks so little about his own family, and so when he does, Alucard is always at full attention. The squeeze of his hand doesn't matter. Alucard's dealt with worse.]
I'm sure that you at least looked extremely charming.
[He'll move away from the subject, only because Trevor's discomfort is clear.]
I have not. And if that's your next date idea, then I'm very enthusiastic.
[Not that Trevor is an avid opera fan or anything, but live musical theater is an experience Adrian should have. Adrian, of all people, because just sitting here as he is, he looks like the caliber that belongs in an opera box seat with tiny gold binoculars. As if anyone in this restaurant could stop by the table and start discussing the finer points of Matisse or Verdi or Tarkovsky, and Adrian could navigate the conversation just as fluently from any point.
The realization makes Trevor feel out of place. Because he's never looked like he belonged in high society. And maybe he doesn't, and that's perfectly fine, but beside Adrian?
Adrian makes him want to do better. Be better.]
In fact, that's where I'm taking you and Sypha on our date together. We're getting box seats. Samson and Delilah is playing this month, and your jaw will hit the floor when you walk into the National Opera. If anything can rival your father's castle...
[Alucard lets out a soft laugh, and he pauses so that he can put his other hand on the table. He leans his cheek against his hand, content.]
I like going out with you. It makes you come up with more ideas for continuing to be out.
[It's said with a very, very warm tone. And he can't read Trevor's mind, right now, but if he could, the dhampir would be all but glowing from the words. Then gently tutting at Trevor's low estimation of himself.
But the waiter appears for all the appropriate orders before Alucard can say much more, and all the lovey dovey glances from the dhampir disappear for just a few minutes. He's all polite business, asking questions about ingredients and then settling on a rack of lamb with a red wine to pair with it.]
[Trevor's own order -- wagyu filet, rare -- is laughably predictable but notably without alcohol to accompany it. He does have some sense. Sometimes. Currently, it's being employed under the knowledge that he needs to have a somewhat clear head moving forward, and the awareness that he's nearly polished off half their champagne bottle as-is. He's not going to lead this conversation as a drunken mess.
The server is off again, and Trevor takes a moment to come back to himself -- to remember what they were talking about. Right, opera. And Adrian liking to go out with him, which almost sets Trevor to short-circuiting again. It's infuriating, how often Adrian does that to him; arrests thought, flatters him to thoughtlessness. And there's that notion again, that Trevor's become his thrall.
But perhaps real love is just as sinister.]
I have something of an ulterior motive for bringing you out tonight. It might be better to get that out of the way first.
[If the finer details of it weren't digging their claws deep into his mind...]
[Alucard doesn't look too terribly surprised at the idea of Trevor having another motive for doing this. But underneath that cool surface is real concern. It's...probably a good thing? Somehow? But Trevor's mind is a strange place, one that Alucard thinks he understands a portion of but does not dare to dive too far into. He worries so much about Trevor as it is. Living in that headspace would only make things worse.
He lets go of the champagne glass in his hand, but doesn't let go of Trevor's. He keeps running his thumb over Trevor's knuckle. The pace doesn't change, but the texture of it does. A cautious curiosity and concern, unsure of what way to lean.]
[And there it is, lost for words again. Trevor's gaze fixes on Adrian's hand, watching his thumb drift over Trevor's dry knuckles (dry, because they're prone to chapping and Sypha's only just introduced him to the concept of moisturizer), painfully aware of how soft Adrian is, how thoughtful and gentle. The difference between them is almost literally night and day, but even after all his obsessing and agonizing over it, Trevor doesn't want this to stop. There's no reason for it to stop, not when for some unfathomable reason, it actually makes the three of them incredibly happy. Mysterious ways, indeed.
Trevor chances meeting Adrian's gaze again -- sharp and golden -- and very nearly loses his nerve. His stomach drops, like staring over the fathoms of a cliff face. What is this terror? He's faced horrific leviathans and undefinable monstrosities, but this? This feels apocalyptic.
Slow, deep breath. Center. He can do this.]
You said... something. And maybe we should define what that means. I wouldn't want to lay all the foundation until Sypha has her say too. But if we can figure out what we are to each other, or what we want to be, maybe that will make the rest of it easier when she gets back.
[Alucard closes his eyes for a moment, his word absolutely drenched in warmth. Something like this means actually using the word dating, and part of him wants to joke that if this is a first date, everything else is going to pale in comparison.
But no. That would stop the big, grand gestures, and Alucard wants more of those. Perhaps that's too demanding - he doesn't know Trevor's finances, he doesn't know if the Belmont can access his family's wealth really - but he wants them all the same. It's an expression of love and devotion, just like how Alucard makes dinner for everyone, or refuses to let them pay for groceries and the like, or any other basic living expenses. It's his way of taking care of the other two. Saying I love you without ever voicing the words.
Alucard's eyes open. Both of his hands wrap around Trevor's, and the hold on gently.]
I want to keep dating you, Trevor Belmont. I care about you and your well being, and I want you to be happier than you were the day before.
[Dating is a strange word for it, but what else are they supposed to call it at this juncture? That's by leaps and bounds a far better answer than Trevor expected. He'd expected laughter at best, but this? This was reasonable. A dialogue of acceptance, and he could work with this if he could just keep finding the words.
He was actually doing surprisingly well in that department. Thank God for champagne.
But Trevor smiles. Not a shit-eating grin, not a sideways smirk, but an actual genuine smile, wide and warm and beautiful. There's relief in his posture too, in the way his shoulders relax and he looks as if he can actually breathe again.]
Yes. [And before Adrian's hands can slip away again, Trevor grips them gently and brings both to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of each.] Yes. Thank you.
[Son of a bitch, Trevor just stole what Alucard was planning on doing next with Trevor's hand. Now he can't, lest he just look like a copycat.
God if the kisses don't put a tinge of pink to Alucard's cheeks though, the same way that that smile, one without sarcasm or being a dick nearly lights up the entire room. It's an expression Alucard has never seen cross Trevor's face, and now he'd pay millions to see it at least once every day.]
There's nothing to say thank you for. [His voice is soft, and there's such love in it.] I'm yours and Sypha's. That's all I can truly say.
[It's almost sentimental, the way Trevor presses his cheek to the back of Adrian's hand; scratchy as always, but warm and oddly affectionate. Trevor would never describe himself as needy, but if there's one thing he always seems to seek out, it's touch; that's probably the worst-kept secret between them. He was practically starved for it before Adrian and Sypha came into his life, and he seems to be making up for the lost time in spades.]
You gave us a home. [Trevor lowers Adrian's hands to the table again, but keeps them laced with his own.] And you don't look half-bad in leggings.
[God forbid he remain vulnerable for more than two minutes.]
[God, let him melt here. The scruff against Alucard's hand is almost too much, and there is extensive effort to keep any noise from escaping. It works, but just barely.]
Ah yes. The second and most important part of all.
[Yeah, Alucard didn't expect the vulnerability to stay. He'll rekindle it at home, or at least try to, all soft edges and gentle nudging of Trevor to try and get his way.]
I thought I might take you home and be a complete gentleman for the rest of the evening, but if you have other plans for me, I won't object.
[There's a moment of well-disguised panic, because he hadn't actually anticipated after dinner. This entire affair -- despite going off without a hitch -- hadn't exactly been planned in advance. It was a whim in the morning that blossomed into overly-confident folly, and part of Trevor hadn't expected Adrian to agree to it. He'd been so concerned about the reservations and securing Adrian's approval, he never considered the after.
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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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I don't know if I'll drink to all of that, but I can toast to the spirit of it.
[It's wonderful, the weight of the glass in his hand. The clinkof the glasses together. The music that weaves it's way through and makes the whole moment absolute perfect.]
And be very glad that neither of us have to drive back. We're consuming the whole of this bottle.
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But they are drinking the entire bottle, and it's not entirely up to the dignified standard of the place to drain his entire flute in one go, but there's something that needs discussing tonight, and Trevor can probably grace it better with a bit of liquid courage behind his words. For whatever it's worth, he doesn't make it look undignified.]
Did your family ever come to places like this when you were growing up? We did, every now and then.
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[It's never something Alucard has explicitly stated, but he grew up in the castle outside of humanity, as much as his mother protested the matter at first. The only reason Lisa Tepes had relented was due to Alucard's rapid aging. To expose him to the world was a danger, and that she wouldn't abide. Even though it meant her son would be isolated. Alucard knew it always bothered her.
He doesn't let the thought linger. Not when there happier memories.]
They went out though. A lot, sometimes dressed even more elaborately than we are, others my mother was just dragging him to see a movie which he almost always hated. I think she just liked hearing his critical thoughts after.
[Trevor probably didn't expect the Alucard's Parents Relationship department to happen, but oh well. Alucard's too proud of the two most days, and it shows in the warmth of his voice now.]
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Casual alcoholism. Trevor refills their glasses and takes another sip of his own drink. This line of thinking isn't entirely fair, he knows this. Not to himself, and not to his family. The Belmonts were odd, for lack of a better word. But they weren't necessarily bad. Trevor's still learning to distinguish between the two, and that's part of the struggle in all this nonsense between himself and Adrian. Or even, himself, Adrian and Sypha. It's not normal by any standards he's known, but that doesn't mean it's bad.
And in any case, he's quite enjoying it.]
Do you like going to the movies? Or the theater? I'd have pegged you for box seats at the opera, but not cinema.
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...he and Sypha know how to deal with Trevor's alcohol consumption. As long as it's just the bottle between the two of them and then a dinner wine, it's fine. Just enough to make sure the evening's nerves are gone, and if they both go to bed tonight having done no more than kissed, then that's perfectly fine by the dhampir.]
And yes, if our Netflix subscription and various art house streaming subscriptions didn't tell you, I do enjoy movies. Nearly as much as my mother and I enjoy watching my father complain. We used to see a film, place bets about what he'd complain about, then take him out to see who'd win.
[Those were good memories. The films were ranged from animated to deeply serious to just about anything from the Fast and the Furious franchise on principle. And there's a very thin, pained smile from that memory too. Ever since his mother's medical liscence was revoked it has been...fragile, back at the castle. Hard.]
Were you particularly young when you started getting dragged to places like this?
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But that's not the half of it on this particular point. Trevor shrugs, gesturing vaguely with one hand.]
Not places like this. I wouldn't bore you with the places my family dragged me to. They're... sycophantic. There's no heart or quality to it, just-- Just appearances, you know? Charity balls and award dinners, because God forbid you get on the Duke's bad side and lose his sponsorship; better to kiss ass and save face than actually do anything worthwhile for society.
[From Trevor's tone, it sounds as if worthwhile translates to anything but hunting monsters.]
So yes. They were parading me around from the time I was five or so. In tiny suits, with shoes I never kept on and always got a wollop for.
[Trevor's hand tightens momentarily around Adrian's, then relaxes again when he forces himself back to the present.]
But you've never been to an opera? [It's almost incredulous.] Carmen? Madama Butterfly? Tosca?
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And no way he could dream up Hamlet But With Lions.
Alucard is careful to listen though. Trevor talks so little about his own family, and so when he does, Alucard is always at full attention. The squeeze of his hand doesn't matter. Alucard's dealt with worse.]
I'm sure that you at least looked extremely charming.
[He'll move away from the subject, only because Trevor's discomfort is clear.]
I have not. And if that's your next date idea, then I'm very enthusiastic.
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[Not that Trevor is an avid opera fan or anything, but live musical theater is an experience Adrian should have. Adrian, of all people, because just sitting here as he is, he looks like the caliber that belongs in an opera box seat with tiny gold binoculars. As if anyone in this restaurant could stop by the table and start discussing the finer points of Matisse or Verdi or Tarkovsky, and Adrian could navigate the conversation just as fluently from any point.
The realization makes Trevor feel out of place. Because he's never looked like he belonged in high society. And maybe he doesn't, and that's perfectly fine, but beside Adrian?
Adrian makes him want to do better. Be better.]
In fact, that's where I'm taking you and Sypha on our date together. We're getting box seats. Samson and Delilah is playing this month, and your jaw will hit the floor when you walk into the National Opera. If anything can rival your father's castle...
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I like going out with you. It makes you come up with more ideas for continuing to be out.
[It's said with a very, very warm tone. And he can't read Trevor's mind, right now, but if he could, the dhampir would be all but glowing from the words. Then gently tutting at Trevor's low estimation of himself.
But the waiter appears for all the appropriate orders before Alucard can say much more, and all the lovey dovey glances from the dhampir disappear for just a few minutes. He's all polite business, asking questions about ingredients and then settling on a rack of lamb with a red wine to pair with it.]
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The server is off again, and Trevor takes a moment to come back to himself -- to remember what they were talking about. Right, opera. And Adrian liking to go out with him, which almost sets Trevor to short-circuiting again. It's infuriating, how often Adrian does that to him; arrests thought, flatters him to thoughtlessness. And there's that notion again, that Trevor's become his thrall.
But perhaps real love is just as sinister.]
I have something of an ulterior motive for bringing you out tonight. It might be better to get that out of the way first.
[If the finer details of it weren't digging their claws deep into his mind...]
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[Alucard doesn't look too terribly surprised at the idea of Trevor having another motive for doing this. But underneath that cool surface is real concern. It's...probably a good thing? Somehow? But Trevor's mind is a strange place, one that Alucard thinks he understands a portion of but does not dare to dive too far into. He worries so much about Trevor as it is. Living in that headspace would only make things worse.
He lets go of the champagne glass in his hand, but doesn't let go of Trevor's. He keeps running his thumb over Trevor's knuckle. The pace doesn't change, but the texture of it does. A cautious curiosity and concern, unsure of what way to lean.]
I'm listening.
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[And there it is, lost for words again. Trevor's gaze fixes on Adrian's hand, watching his thumb drift over Trevor's dry knuckles (dry, because they're prone to chapping and Sypha's only just introduced him to the concept of moisturizer), painfully aware of how soft Adrian is, how thoughtful and gentle. The difference between them is almost literally night and day, but even after all his obsessing and agonizing over it, Trevor doesn't want this to stop. There's no reason for it to stop, not when for some unfathomable reason, it actually makes the three of them incredibly happy. Mysterious ways, indeed.
Trevor chances meeting Adrian's gaze again -- sharp and golden -- and very nearly loses his nerve. His stomach drops, like staring over the fathoms of a cliff face. What is this terror? He's faced horrific leviathans and undefinable monstrosities, but this? This feels apocalyptic.
Slow, deep breath. Center. He can do this.]
You said... something. And maybe we should define what that means. I wouldn't want to lay all the foundation until Sypha has her say too. But if we can figure out what we are to each other, or what we want to be, maybe that will make the rest of it easier when she gets back.
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[Alucard closes his eyes for a moment, his word absolutely drenched in warmth. Something like this means actually using the word dating, and part of him wants to joke that if this is a first date, everything else is going to pale in comparison.
But no. That would stop the big, grand gestures, and Alucard wants more of those. Perhaps that's too demanding - he doesn't know Trevor's finances, he doesn't know if the Belmont can access his family's wealth really - but he wants them all the same. It's an expression of love and devotion, just like how Alucard makes dinner for everyone, or refuses to let them pay for groceries and the like, or any other basic living expenses. It's his way of taking care of the other two. Saying I love you without ever voicing the words.
Alucard's eyes open. Both of his hands wrap around Trevor's, and the hold on gently.]
I want to keep dating you, Trevor Belmont. I care about you and your well being, and I want you to be happier than you were the day before.
Is that enough of a foundation?
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He was actually doing surprisingly well in that department. Thank God for champagne.
But Trevor smiles. Not a shit-eating grin, not a sideways smirk, but an actual genuine smile, wide and warm and beautiful. There's relief in his posture too, in the way his shoulders relax and he looks as if he can actually breathe again.]
Yes. [And before Adrian's hands can slip away again, Trevor grips them gently and brings both to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of each.] Yes. Thank you.
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God if the kisses don't put a tinge of pink to Alucard's cheeks though, the same way that that smile, one without sarcasm or being a dick nearly lights up the entire room. It's an expression Alucard has never seen cross Trevor's face, and now he'd pay millions to see it at least once every day.]
There's nothing to say thank you for. [His voice is soft, and there's such love in it.] I'm yours and Sypha's. That's all I can truly say.
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[It's almost sentimental, the way Trevor presses his cheek to the back of Adrian's hand; scratchy as always, but warm and oddly affectionate. Trevor would never describe himself as needy, but if there's one thing he always seems to seek out, it's touch; that's probably the worst-kept secret between them. He was practically starved for it before Adrian and Sypha came into his life, and he seems to be making up for the lost time in spades.]
You gave us a home. [Trevor lowers Adrian's hands to the table again, but keeps them laced with his own.] And you don't look half-bad in leggings.
[God forbid he remain vulnerable for more than two minutes.]
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Ah yes. The second and most important part of all.
[Yeah, Alucard didn't expect the vulnerability to stay. He'll rekindle it at home, or at least try to, all soft edges and gentle nudging of Trevor to try and get his way.]
What do you have planned after dinner?
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[There's a moment of well-disguised panic, because he hadn't actually anticipated after dinner. This entire affair -- despite going off without a hitch -- hadn't exactly been planned in advance. It was a whim in the morning that blossomed into overly-confident folly, and part of Trevor hadn't expected Adrian to agree to it. He'd been so concerned about the reservations and securing Adrian's approval, he never considered the after.
Ice cream? A nice walk? What?]
What would you like to do?
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