miraclewhip | (for cryptsleeper)

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(for cryptsleeper)

[ He remembers- maybe about half of what happened last night. A little more, perhaps. He remembers the comments that initiated the fight. Vaguely remembers being dragged back to the inn. Remembers throwing cold water on his face to wake himself up to do the terrible fucking job of stitching himself back up that he found himself with this morning (if there was ever a chance to keep that fucking cut from scarring, well, he's gone and botched it).

And he remembers telling the fucking vampire things that he probably should not have told the fucking vampire. He doesn't remember the specifics but he knows that he said too much. More than he's told anyone in a decade maybe. All for the sake of a petty victory that he doesn't even remember if he achieved.

He's uncharacteristically quiet today, even for being as hungover as he is. He forces the almost-solid porridge down his throat when it's pushed in front of him. He drinks half the water that he was using to wash himself last night and pours the other half over his head to wake himself up after maybe an hour of sleep. He only interrupts Sypha's long, long 'discussion' when she stares at him for an indication that he's still awake. It's after that that he's dismissed to the back of the wagon, either because Sypha can't stand his presence right now or because she doesn't trust him not to fall off and end up tangled under its wheels.

(Can't blame her, being tangled up under the wheels of a wagon sounds better than being in his own head right now, even without the throbbing pain.)

He doesn't sleep, mostly because he's been told not to and he is, even more uncharacteristically, on his best behavior right now. The day is mostly uneventful until sometime in the afternoon, when a particularly foolish highwayman sees a wagon driven by a single speaker woman and tries to take advantage of the situation. He's driven off within moments, of course, harmlessly to both them and himself, and the worst that happens is that the horses are startled by Sypha's display and the wagon lurches to one side, knocking Trevor onto his side against the wooden floor. It's only after everything has been confirmed okay, once the horses are calm and they're moving again, that he places a hand to his lower chest. ]

Fuck.

[ It's warm. And damp. He's gone and opened his shitty stitches, hasn't he? ]

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Nothing h...[What is he saying? Everything hurts, he's still barely recovered and hasn't seen daylight in full since they've escaped by the grace of Trevor's God. (He does't know about the wine yet, but he'll have a bitter laugh about the choice of phrase later.)

There's a long exhale, the sign of gathering up a horrifying range of emotions and preparing to shove them all aside. The things that just played for Alucard's theatre of mind, they'll just make the other two worry so much more. They don't need it, his physical state is a disaster in and of itself. To pile on more is unfair. Not right.

He's already as squished between the two as he could ever be. Sypha's moved just enough to make it possible, not stirring from the comotion but still recognizing it through her own ways.]

Go back to sleep.

[ He's not fucking going to do that. ]

You know full well that I'm not fucking going to do that.

[ He loosens his grip on Alucard's wrist, not quite letting go yet, and plays at shuffling closer (he can't get closer than he already is, but trying feels correct). ]

You don't have to talk. [ The sentence is incomplete, but they've all of them said it to each other so many times that it doesn't really need to be complete. Do what is best, as selfishly as you need, whether it's talking or cuddling or just going back to sleep, and I will be here. ]

[They can't get much closer, but Alucard can shift just enough so that his forehead is rested on Trevor's shoulder. It's not a place he naturally gravitates to (in happier times when they're in bed, it's usually Trevor's chest, and there's at least two or three dirty jokes about how Trevor has the most ample bosom), but it's there and it means not looking at anyone right now.

The dream was a repeat of every horror visited, sped up, and with the phantom of his father watching there, doing nothing. Saying nothing, but the look in his eyes suggested that all of this? This was earned. Earned for the sin of patricide, earned for taking custody of all the things meant to destroy the night things, and that no one aside from two scruffy humans would bother to stop this.

It was false, of course, a phantom born of guilt and fear. His father, if he endured, if he was in his right mind, would have visited fire and fury upon Carmilla and her ilk that would be a return to what his father was in his prime. Then he'd be home, tucked away somewhere safe and left to recover. Possessiveness, over protection, that was a trait inherited and there was sorrow in that fact too.

The dream had reminded him of another detail though, a conversation blocked out because it was the worst part of the ordeal. Something about cutting his hair before it all ends. I think the Church did that to his mother.

It's reflection on that particular element that leads Alucard to hiss out, twice as in many days, another quiet and this time much more defeated utterance of:]

Fuck.

Not sure you're study enough for that yet, I'm afraid.

[ Trevor might be warm, and sympathetic. He might care, worlds more now than he's ever admit. But he is still Trevor. Even now. His laughter at his own joke only laughs a moment, though, and his voice turns soft and serious. ]

We're here. Both of us. We won't leave, not again.

You're disgusting.

[There's a tired fondness, one that wants to say so many more words but just can't. Not right now. He'd be a liar if there weren't passing thoughts of what their bed will be like when this is all over (there are other things Alucard plans besides strategies for taking back the castle and what part of the Hold to assert dominion over next), but well. Trevor just being Trevor is fine for now. Right for this moment.]

You may not have a choice in the matter.

[Because this is clearly the conversation to have right now. Alucard catches it though, and the exhale he gives is something that should come from a far older man.]

Forgive me, that was uncalled for.

Neither of us have ever done a fucking thing in our lives that we didn't want to do.

[ Logically, he should know that there will always be other things. There will always be things that are more important. Things that matter more than the three of them. Right now, logically is not in charge. Alucard and Sypha are the only things in the world that matter, the people who have helped them are a distant second. Everything else is nothing. ]

We're a couple of stubborn, selfish little shits. And we want to stay with you. So that's what we're going to do.

[Reassurances, between the three of them, are never traditional. They're so often curse ladened, loving insults, a million other things that don't sound affectionate or reassuring at all to other ears. The three of them have their own definitions of what counts as the best words to sooth, to be affectionate, to express those things which are usually impossible to say.

And that's in play now. Because it's the most stupidly borderline romantic thing that could be said, and Alucard can recognize it for what it is. He's not going to break into tears at it (Carmilla would want it anyway, and anything that denies her satisfaction must be done to the utmost), but he can finally meet Trevor's eyes.

I love you too, you stupid smelly ass.]

You're the most stubborn. [And then there's him.] I'm the most selfish. [And Sypha well...] We've run out of adjectives that wouldn't earn us a good yelling.

[ He laughs again, the kind of rumbling laughter that starts in his chest and moves through his whole body, and it's warm and fond and all of those other things that Trevor can usually only manage after being stabbed at least once. ]

Hard to come up with adjectives for her when she's like this. [ Sypha looks practically angelic in her sleep, kicking habit and occasional snores aside. ] She'll earn a couple in the morning, I'm sure.

[ Alucard's looking him in the eyes again, and that is always a good sign. He finally releases his hold on the vampire's wrist to hold his hand, bringing both of their hands down against his chest. ]

Whatever it was, she dies for it. She dies and we purge every record of her. She vanishes from history, and there is nothing left but a head in the hold with no index number or name below it.

Kicks hardest, but that's nearly stubborn. [That laugh is everything to hear, and to be so close to it, to feel the way it rumbles from deep inside Trevro's belly and works it's way out, it feels amazing.] I don't know how you two manage on the road. Your legs must be bruised nightly.

[His legs are also bruised nightly when it's the three of them, but that heals in his sleep. Automatically, because otherwise Alucard would leave them there for just long enough to indulge in a little bit of shaming. Trevor shaming is easy, Sypha shaming takes actual effort.

There's a gentle moment where Alucard laces his fingers with Trevor's, just for the sake of them being as close as possible. He doesn't like being like this, this needy and demanding of touch, but Alucard knows that it's the best way to regain peace of mind. Clarity. Focus. All the things that they need for the task ahead of them.]

Yes. [The word has it's quiet intensity, but there's too much exhaustion for it to be truly angry.]

Before it begins [Our assault, our reclaimation, our work] I will need a moment to...[Fuck it. Fuck it he may as well admit this in the twilight of the ship.] She threatened my mother's fate on me. I will need a moment to steady myself.

[And for his hair. Because that threat rankled, he'll let Carmilla know that much, and when this is done he'll have acted and looked as if he was in his mother's image and not his father's, hair and all.]

[ They are. He considers making a joke about his experience with nightly bar fights and how useful it is in sleeping next to Sypha, but decides against it. He doesn't always catch himself, but he knows that there are still some things that Alucard and Sypha don't like him to joke about. The alcohol, the taverns, the bar fights- he finds it hilarious how far he fell, more so now he isn't there anymore. Alucard and Sypha tend to disagree. ]

We can give you a moment. If we're prepared- we ought to be able to give you as long as you need.

[ His response is immediate, emotional only in its warmth and entirely focused upon the practical. Between them and with proper preparation, he and Sypha can buy Alucard as much time as he wants. Sypha with that hail spell fuelled by holy water, him to drive off anything that survives it. They can do that.

And a practical response is all he gets. There's a twitch of his fingers. A long held breath. Nothing more. It's not the first time that the threat of losing his new family the way he lost his first one has come up, but it is the first time that it has come so very close. ]

It'll only demand a minute. If that.

[A moment to apologize to the dead and to tap into just enough of the anger so that he is effective, but not to the point of no return. Of all the new terrors he has experienced, that is the worst of them because it is not yet past. Too many things in the future lie open, can twist and turn and morph until he's there.

He quiets, finally. A sign that Alucard thinks he can sleep for a few more hours, until the dawn comes and he is woken by it. Perhaps come morning he'll see if Sypha's spells can grant dreamless rest, so that they can all be the better for it. Waking up with night terrors (and that's what the right term for them is, not nightmares) cannot be a regular occurrence. Not right now. Not when sleep and rest and a sound mind are the tools they all need for success.]

[ He's quiet for a few moments. Processing. Thinking (or at least, coming up with a response without doing so) usually comes quickly to him, but right now it is slow, deliberate, pushing the smell of burning out of his senses. He's been careful not to move Alucard too much over the last few days, even at the cost of being less close than they might otherwise be, but now he lifts and pulls Alucard over a little, so that his head is resting upon his chest. The way they sleep at home. ]

Not just her, this time. All of us live.

[ He's been saying a lot of un-trevor-like things over the last few days, but that might be the most un-trevor-like of them all. He will not be losing another family, and they will not be losing him. ]

Sleep well. Tomorrow's going to be shitty.

[The new configuration means that in spite of everything, Alucard finds it in him to tug Sypha along too. Her hand slips from his hair in sleep and settles around his arm instead, and it's better like this. She's still the furnace of the three of them, and her warmth makes the return to a familiar configuration even more comforting.

Alucard's eyes close when he's in an all too familiar place. Yes, this is his normal spot, and he'll take the pain of being shifted around in the morning for all it's worth.

He's not sure if Trevor can see the faint smile that ghosts over his lips at those words. That day in the wagon, that all too silent conversation that saw them really agree on something for the first time, that was a moment that Alucard came back to reflect on again and again. It was the first moment that it was clear to him all the concern, all the fussing about health and well being and being prepared to take what lay ahead was not about just destroying his father's plans for humanity, but real affection and adoration for the two.

Well, Sypha first. But that seemed to be true for both of them.]

Mm. But not as bad as it could be.

[Famous last words. But also a truth, because they've experienced the rockiest of rock bottoms already. Anywhere else is an upward leap.

But Alucard does sleep. He stays where he has been moved to for the whole night and into the dawn, when warmth comes not just from Trevor and Sypha but from the sun as well. He stirs only slightly, stays with his eyes closed, wanting to savor the little things they have already taken back. For surely this? This is one of them, one of their most important things.]

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