[Alucard's razor sharp with that, and he sounds close to entertained. And then he--actually goes and come back. Pepper and clove and a small bottle of orange blossom water, put off to the side from Trevor's workspace.
He's used to cooking alone. Cooking with someone else stirs far happier memories, those that become sad automatically and by no one's fault. How many times did he do this with his mother?]
Grind up a little of the pepper and clove for me? And I'll get to work on the frying.
[ He's having more fun with this than he'd likely admit. It's- nice. He's not cooked alone (or. 'cooked') in a while now, but it's. Nice. To all be here, in a proper kitchen, working together. Them at cooking, Sypha at icing her hands and suggesting secret messages to be carried by various spices. Most of them are translating to badmouthing the pope. ]
About how much do you mean by a little? Give me a number for the peppercorns and gloves.
[Alucard's already grabbed the spice grinder and opened the lid.
This is...this is good. Not what Alucard expected. Not at all what he thought might ever help. But it is good all the same, and he's ready for it to keep going. Hell, he wants it to keep going, and he never thought he'd want anything again. Not with other people around.
He's relaxed. For a few glorious minutes, he's relaxed.]
Three cloves. Peppercorns- maybe eight? Just enough to be warming.
[ A little of the orange blossom water and bowl of cubed pear mixed into the batter, and fritter number one goes into the oil. There's steam but no smoke and a satisfying hiss and splutter of hot oil. ]
Seems about the right temperature. Shouldn't be longer than a few minutes.
This part Alucard's good at. He knows how to grind spices. Work in a kitchen. Fry things. Follow the instructions as Trevor gives them, and so it goes for a while onward. Alucard eats about half of a fritter, declaring the orange blossom an excellent substitute, and then the dishes? He'll do them later when does the dinner dishes.
He makes dinner, but it's light. Fish and salad for them both. Alucard is absent there, but when Trevor and Sypha finish and seemingly wander for a while, he goes back. Starts washing, relieved for the return of silence.]
[ He goes upstairs to find Alucard, but he isn't there. Sypha is, though. Her blanket fort now.
And so he comes back down. Not necessarily to look for Alucard. To bring down the trays of old, mostly uneaten food from the last day, to clear them off and wash them. And there he is. There he is with sleeves rolled back to wash dishes, with bandages sealed to his skin criss-crossing up his arms. ]
Be honest with me. Do you know how long you can go with so little food? And do you need blood? I- need to know what you need. To live. And to heal.
If it's dire, I can retreat to my father's coffin. It can sustain me, the same way the one in Gresit did.
[Meaning that no. He doesn't know. And it isn't something he wants to discuss, so Alucard's arms go all the way into the dish water instead. The bandages are covered now, and no one can think about them.]
Is there a reason that you used pears instead of apples for the fritters?
[ He sighs. On the one hand, Alucard doesn't need to worry about this. On the other, there are a lot of things Alucard probably thinks he doesn't need to worry about that he'd sleep a lot better at night knowing. ]
You have your own shit to worry about. More of it than we were really expecting. I can tell you, but- You're sure you want ours, too?
Mm. There's- I'm going to leave part of it out. It's not important for this, but- you know. I'm asking for honesty from you. Least I can do is give it in return.
There was an apple tree. A big one, the kind that's fit to be a galleon or a fortress. Still bearing fruit, even this time of year. And we found the bones underneath it. So many bones, and all of them so fucking small.
[ He sets down the trays, pushing the slight strain out of his voice. Trying to make it flat. ]
It was someone we trusted. We'd drunk tea with him only a few days ago. Not a friend, but- someone who treated us decently. Close enough.
[He can follow what's unsaid. Alucard's shoulders fall forward, as does his stomach. A child killer. Who had somehow gotten the other two to believe him trustworthy. It's awful. Beyond awful.]
No more apples in this house then.
[That's the easiest part.]
I'm sorry. I should have noticed something was wrong--
[ He's not drunk. But he's tired and it's been a long few days and the revelation that he must love Sypha has floored him enough that he has no filter. ]
The kind I just want to follow to the ends of the earth, just in case I might see it again. You- both of you do it.
[The dhampir goes so still. His eyes stare down at the dish water, where the soap has cleared away. Where he can see the criss crossing bandages and want to sob at the shame they fill him with.]
You should have been here earlier.
[He whispers it, shaking just a little.]
I could have said all those things back without any problem, I could have....
[He all but collapses at that. All of the dhampir slumps forward. Threatens to fall into the dish water. The shake in his arms spreads now, and the half of a fritter in Alucard's stomach churns with far too much anger.]
I want to. I could have--
[A horrible strangled noise escapes from his throat, but no more.]
It's an awful terrible angle. Alucard feels both too heavy and too light doing it. But he does it all the same, knowing, trusting Trevor in this moment.
[ He pulls Alucard close, and it's easier than it feels like it should be. Maybe because he technically already did this last night. Maybe it was just always thus easy, and he just never tried hard enough because he was afraid. The way it was with Sypha. ]
We love you. I love you.
[ That's easier than it ought to be, too. And though he agreed that touching was to be off-limits, he presses a delicate kiss to Alucard's forehead. ]
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[ He laughs at his own joke, then looks down at the book to double-check. ]
Clove, pepper. Orange blossom if you think it'd replace the rosewater well enough. I think that's everything.
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[Alucard's razor sharp with that, and he sounds close to entertained. And then he--actually goes and come back. Pepper and clove and a small bottle of orange blossom water, put off to the side from Trevor's workspace.
He's used to cooking alone. Cooking with someone else stirs far happier memories, those that become sad automatically and by no one's fault. How many times did he do this with his mother?]
Do you need me to do anything else?
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[ He's having more fun with this than he'd likely admit. It's- nice. He's not cooked alone (or. 'cooked') in a while now, but it's. Nice. To all be here, in a proper kitchen, working together. Them at cooking, Sypha at icing her hands and suggesting secret messages to be carried by various spices. Most of them are translating to badmouthing the pope. ]
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[Alucard's already grabbed the spice grinder and opened the lid.
This is...this is good. Not what Alucard expected. Not at all what he thought might ever help. But it is good all the same, and he's ready for it to keep going. Hell, he wants it to keep going, and he never thought he'd want anything again. Not with other people around.
He's relaxed. For a few glorious minutes, he's relaxed.]
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[ A little of the orange blossom water and bowl of cubed pear mixed into the batter, and fritter number one goes into the oil. There's steam but no smoke and a satisfying hiss and splutter of hot oil. ]
Seems about the right temperature. Shouldn't be longer than a few minutes.
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This part Alucard's good at. He knows how to grind spices. Work in a kitchen. Fry things. Follow the instructions as Trevor gives them, and so it goes for a while onward. Alucard eats about half of a fritter, declaring the orange blossom an excellent substitute, and then the dishes? He'll do them later when does the dinner dishes.
He makes dinner, but it's light. Fish and salad for them both. Alucard is absent there, but when Trevor and Sypha finish and seemingly wander for a while, he goes back. Starts washing, relieved for the return of silence.]
Hm. I suppose that was enough food.
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[ He goes upstairs to find Alucard, but he isn't there. Sypha is, though. Her blanket fort now.
And so he comes back down. Not necessarily to look for Alucard. To bring down the trays of old, mostly uneaten food from the last day, to clear them off and wash them. And there he is. There he is with sleeves rolled back to wash dishes, with bandages sealed to his skin criss-crossing up his arms. ]
Be honest with me. Do you know how long you can go with so little food? And do you need blood? I- need to know what you need. To live. And to heal.
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[Meaning that no. He doesn't know. And it isn't something he wants to discuss, so Alucard's arms go all the way into the dish water instead. The bandages are covered now, and no one can think about them.]
Is there a reason that you used pears instead of apples for the fritters?
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[ He sighs. On the one hand, Alucard doesn't need to worry about this. On the other, there are a lot of things Alucard probably thinks he doesn't need to worry about that he'd sleep a lot better at night knowing. ]
You have your own shit to worry about. More of it than we were really expecting. I can tell you, but- You're sure you want ours, too?
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Fair is fair, isn't it?
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There was an apple tree. A big one, the kind that's fit to be a galleon or a fortress. Still bearing fruit, even this time of year. And we found the bones underneath it. So many bones, and all of them so fucking small.
[ He sets down the trays, pushing the slight strain out of his voice. Trying to make it flat. ]
It was someone we trusted. We'd drunk tea with him only a few days ago. Not a friend, but- someone who treated us decently. Close enough.
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No more apples in this house then.
[That's the easiest part.]
I'm sorry. I should have noticed something was wrong--
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Not like we told you. I think- I think right now she wants to pretend it didn't happen anyway.
[ Picking up a tea towel, he holds out his hands to take the dish Alucard's washing. ]
Part of me just- thought the world would be different, you know? It felt different, with her.
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She makes it so easy to think it's a possibility, doesn't she?
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[ Makes everything seem brighter. Even now. Like he has to be wrong about the world, because otherwise she could never be in it.
He dries the dish off, putting it away. ]
-I should know better. But it's so easy to get caught up in her- her everything. She does this smile. And this laugh and-
[ Like. An. Egg. ]
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[ It's easier to admit than he thought it would be. He stares into the dish cupboard for far longer than he really needs to. ]
But- you do that smile, too.
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Wait, what?
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[ He's not drunk. But he's tired and it's been a long few days and the revelation that he must love Sypha has floored him enough that he has no filter. ]
The kind I just want to follow to the ends of the earth, just in case I might see it again. You- both of you do it.
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You should have been here earlier.
[He whispers it, shaking just a little.]
I could have said all those things back without any problem, I could have....
[Loved you so much easier.]
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[ He doesn't touch Alucard, but he takes the dish from his hands to dry it. ]
-Even if you don't feel the same. Even if you can't. Even if you need us to leave, need us to never came back.
[ He doesn't know what that 'even' means, but- he knows it means something. ]
-If I love her, then I think I must love you. It's the same. And it won't change. And I won't hate you, for whatever you need to do.
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I want to. I could have--
[A horrible strangled noise escapes from his throat, but no more.]
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We're here now. Whatever that ends up meaning- we're here.
We won't let you be hurt again
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It's an awful terrible angle. Alucard feels both too heavy and too light doing it. But he does it all the same, knowing, trusting Trevor in this moment.
Trusting one of them.]
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We love you. I love you.
[ That's easier than it ought to be, too. And though he agreed that touching was to be off-limits, he presses a delicate kiss to Alucard's forehead. ]
We're here. We'll make it stop hurting.
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