[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.
[This is Trevor's plan. His evening. So he gets to call all of the shots, even if Alucard truly doesn't know the extent that Trevor is totally winging it from this point forward. He'd totally believe that if Trevor said so, but for now? Clearly, Trevor knows what he's doing.
There's a soft huff of a laugh, just a puff of noise, and it comes with a tiny smile on the dhampir's face.]
I have to say, I enjoy Trevor the complete gentleman.
[This isn't as challenging as anticipated, the whole being a gentleman thing. Trevor doesn't totally feel like himself, but he's too used to 'himself' being a drunken mess. Borderline alcoholism (or perhaps not so borderline) has a way of disassociating everything from reality. He thinks he remembers who he is without it, but inching back to that is something of an arduous task.
Like hell is he going to admit that, though. Adrian knows him well enough to tell this from... Well, how Trevor normally is, and the fact that he commented on it--
Trevor's trying not to be irked. Because Adrian didn't mean it that way, he's sure; it just feels like he enjoys this Trevor better.
He doesn't get to comment on it one way or the other. Their food is delivered a moment later, and Trevor reluctantly releases Adrian's hands to make room for the plates. Small portions, artistic presentation; some things are a constant with places like this, he supposes.]
I think I prefer your cooking. [Trevor says when their server is out of earshot again, tentatively poking around the plate with his fork. Where is the rest of it? Honestly.]
[Alucard squeezes Trevor's hand gently. He can see how Trevor is starting to withdraw into his own headspace right now, and that? That isn't allowed on a night like this. A squeeze once or twice almost becomes a slow rhythm. Anything to stop Trevor's train of thought.
The food though? Oh that's wonderful. Alucard knows he's a good cook, but there is the luxury of not cooking, along with the presentation. For only a half a rack of lamb, they've arranged it as a guard of honor and every part of the meat is perfectly rare.]
Only because my portions are more generous, I'm sure.
[He grins at that, taking the steak knife in hand.]
[There's nothing more to be said for that, really. Adrian has many talents, and Trevor's never seen fit to complain about his cooking. Considering how much he enjoys complaining in general, that's a feat in and of itself.
Though he's doing his best to not complain tonight, and he'd done quite well up until the comment about his steak. He glares through his plate for a few long moments, then resolves to enjoy it anyway, and starts in on his meal. And again, it's not bad; not by half. Tender, well-salted, and perfectly cooked.
Sometimes it really is as simple as deciding not to care. Sometimes, that's an inordinately difficult task, and Trevor cannot for the life of him understand why.]
[Alucard's mannerisms at the table are not exactly dainty, but they edge periously close and in truth, deserve some teasing. Because he is very careful as he eats, the lamb pieces cut into perfect tiny bites and then sometimes dipped in the jus or the mashed potatoes (creamed potatoes, really) as he sees fit.
It isn't a bad recipe. There's thyme all over the lamb in addition to the salt and pepper, along with the barest hint of cumin. And that's the luxury of eating out: new ideas for what to cook at home.][Alucard then reaches for his wine, and swirls it slowly.]
Far be it from me to come between you and that lamb. You're being very thorough with it. Should I be jealous?
[There's that smirk again, practically dripping from Trevor's lips. Because as much as jealousy is a wasted emotion, that hasn't stopped him from casting vaguely-threatening glances around the room for most of the night. He practically welcomes anyone to look at them sideways; he hasn't had a good brawl in a while, and while this is hardly the time or place...
He'd do it. For Adrian or for Sypha, he'd beat someone bloody without question, Michelin five-star rating or no. It's all just part of his charm.]
I'm complimenting the chef and your taste in places to go for dates, Belmont.
[Alucard shakes his head at Trevor. He hasn't missed those glances around the room, and they're nothing that he isn't used to. They do worry him though, that one day he actually will start a fight. There's a terrible difference between being protective versus over possessive, and Trevor's hedging towards the other.
He nudges Trevor gently under the table.]
Stop fussing. Anyone who makes a move isn't worth your time and effort.
[It's not as if Trevor's any stranger to vigilance, after all, and besides the more obvious preludes, there's always the possibility of something sinister lurking beneath someone's intentions. The Belmonts aren't the only monster-hunting clan in Wallachia, and you don't shack up with the son of Dracula without painting something of a target on your back. Most of the time, it's not an issue, nor does he anticipate it will be, but there's always that chance...
And Adrian needn't be privy to his paranoia, in any case.]
[There's a soft noise from Alucard that may be disapproval, but he says nothing more. Trevor is always going to be Trevor, and all Alucard can do is try and pull him out of his head from time to time. Attempting more is how fights start.
He's never worried about drawing the ire of others, not really. Some of it is because he is the Son of Dracula, and anyone stupid enough to attack him invites the wrath of Dracula upon their heads. The other is the security of simply being around the other two. It's an overly romantic sentiment, and he doesn't care.]
Please. But only if you'll sit on the same side of the booth with me to share it.
[There's the real danger inherent of this thing between them, however more official it's just become. Adrian makes everything sound so damn reasonable -- so tempting -- and Trevor has always fought reason and temptation with tooth and nail. It's still a daily struggle to combat that natural propensity toward contrariness, when when it's pleasant, and especially when it's for his own good.
But his grin softens, and he nods as he finishes off his (woefully scant) steak.]
As you wish. But first--
[The quartet has slowed to an adagio, and the melody suits Adrian, somehow. Who can say exactly how the machinations of Trevor's mind work in this regard, but melancholy strings and Adrian seem inexorably linked. Trevor rounds to Adrian's side of the table, one arm behind his back as he bows slightly and offers his hand to the dhampir.]
Alucard can feel the heat in his cheeks this time. He expected dancing to take place in the privacy of their own home, where every element could be controlled. He expected to eventually just lean into Trevor and kiss him for all he's worth. But public?
If tonight doesn't make it clear how easily persuaded Alucard is by romantic gestures, nothing ever well.
All Alucard can do is put his hand in Trevor's and then slowly stand - careful not to let any of the beading of his suit jacket get meat juices on it.]
How can I refuse?
[Ah, yes. The other problem. All Alucard wants to do is kiss the Belmont now, sod the dancing.]
[Trevor, in all his infinite wisdom, only has so much awareness of Adrian's own feelings on the matter. There's some vague assumption that perhaps Adrian is only humoring him, but Trevor's never been adept at reading people. In fact, he makes a point not to, and merely assumes that everyone in this world dislikes him to a certain degree. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, but by his own figuring, he's just never been proven wrong before.
And he hasn't danced in years, so he's fully anticipating this will be a massive disappointment for Adrian. But damnit, he's trying, and he'll embarrass himself just this once if it means rounding out this night properly for Adrian.
It's a short walk to the dance floor, and despite Trevor's boasting, there's not nearly enough space for proper waltzing here. Ah well. He can improvise. One hand at Adrian's waist, the other holding his hand aloft in all the typical fashion, Trevor pauses for a moment with a sheepish grin, trying to pick out a rhythm.]
I haven't done this in years, and you're going to regret accepting this invitation.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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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[This is Trevor's plan. His evening. So he gets to call all of the shots, even if Alucard truly doesn't know the extent that Trevor is totally winging it from this point forward. He'd totally believe that if Trevor said so, but for now? Clearly, Trevor knows what he's doing.
There's a soft huff of a laugh, just a puff of noise, and it comes with a tiny smile on the dhampir's face.]
I have to say, I enjoy Trevor the complete gentleman.
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Like hell is he going to admit that, though. Adrian knows him well enough to tell this from... Well, how Trevor normally is, and the fact that he commented on it--
Trevor's trying not to be irked. Because Adrian didn't mean it that way, he's sure; it just feels like he enjoys this Trevor better.
He doesn't get to comment on it one way or the other. Their food is delivered a moment later, and Trevor reluctantly releases Adrian's hands to make room for the plates. Small portions, artistic presentation; some things are a constant with places like this, he supposes.]
I think I prefer your cooking. [Trevor says when their server is out of earshot again, tentatively poking around the plate with his fork. Where is the rest of it? Honestly.]
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The food though? Oh that's wonderful. Alucard knows he's a good cook, but there is the luxury of not cooking, along with the presentation. For only a half a rack of lamb, they've arranged it as a guard of honor and every part of the meat is perfectly rare.]
Only because my portions are more generous, I'm sure.
[He grins at that, taking the steak knife in hand.]
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[There's nothing more to be said for that, really. Adrian has many talents, and Trevor's never seen fit to complain about his cooking. Considering how much he enjoys complaining in general, that's a feat in and of itself.
Though he's doing his best to not complain tonight, and he'd done quite well up until the comment about his steak. He glares through his plate for a few long moments, then resolves to enjoy it anyway, and starts in on his meal. And again, it's not bad; not by half. Tender, well-salted, and perfectly cooked.
Sometimes it really is as simple as deciding not to care. Sometimes, that's an inordinately difficult task, and Trevor cannot for the life of him understand why.]
How is your lamb?
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It isn't a bad recipe. There's thyme all over the lamb in addition to the salt and pepper, along with the barest hint of cumin. And that's the luxury of eating out: new ideas for what to cook at home.][Alucard then reaches for his wine, and swirls it slowly.]
Do you want to try a piece, or are you good?
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[There's that smirk again, practically dripping from Trevor's lips. Because as much as jealousy is a wasted emotion, that hasn't stopped him from casting vaguely-threatening glances around the room for most of the night. He practically welcomes anyone to look at them sideways; he hasn't had a good brawl in a while, and while this is hardly the time or place...
He'd do it. For Adrian or for Sypha, he'd beat someone bloody without question, Michelin five-star rating or no. It's all just part of his charm.]
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[Alucard shakes his head at Trevor. He hasn't missed those glances around the room, and they're nothing that he isn't used to. They do worry him though, that one day he actually will start a fight. There's a terrible difference between being protective versus over possessive, and Trevor's hedging towards the other.
He nudges Trevor gently under the table.]
Stop fussing. Anyone who makes a move isn't worth your time and effort.
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[It's not as if Trevor's any stranger to vigilance, after all, and besides the more obvious preludes, there's always the possibility of something sinister lurking beneath someone's intentions. The Belmonts aren't the only monster-hunting clan in Wallachia, and you don't shack up with the son of Dracula without painting something of a target on your back. Most of the time, it's not an issue, nor does he anticipate it will be, but there's always that chance...
And Adrian needn't be privy to his paranoia, in any case.]
Do you want dessert?
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He's never worried about drawing the ire of others, not really. Some of it is because he is the Son of Dracula, and anyone stupid enough to attack him invites the wrath of Dracula upon their heads. The other is the security of simply being around the other two. It's an overly romantic sentiment, and he doesn't care.]
Please. But only if you'll sit on the same side of the booth with me to share it.
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But his grin softens, and he nods as he finishes off his (woefully scant) steak.]
As you wish. But first--
[The quartet has slowed to an adagio, and the melody suits Adrian, somehow. Who can say exactly how the machinations of Trevor's mind work in this regard, but melancholy strings and Adrian seem inexorably linked. Trevor rounds to Adrian's side of the table, one arm behind his back as he bows slightly and offers his hand to the dhampir.]
Would you honor me with a dance?
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Alucard can feel the heat in his cheeks this time. He expected dancing to take place in the privacy of their own home, where every element could be controlled. He expected to eventually just lean into Trevor and kiss him for all he's worth. But public?
If tonight doesn't make it clear how easily persuaded Alucard is by romantic gestures, nothing ever well.
All Alucard can do is put his hand in Trevor's and then slowly stand - careful not to let any of the beading of his suit jacket get meat juices on it.]
How can I refuse?
[Ah, yes. The other problem. All Alucard wants to do is kiss the Belmont now, sod the dancing.]
And if you'll be so kind as to lead?
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And he hasn't danced in years, so he's fully anticipating this will be a massive disappointment for Adrian. But damnit, he's trying, and he'll embarrass himself just this once if it means rounding out this night properly for Adrian.
It's a short walk to the dance floor, and despite Trevor's boasting, there's not nearly enough space for proper waltzing here. Ah well. He can improvise. One hand at Adrian's waist, the other holding his hand aloft in all the typical fashion, Trevor pauses for a moment with a sheepish grin, trying to pick out a rhythm.]
I haven't done this in years, and you're going to regret accepting this invitation.
[And into a simple step sequence.]
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