Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

   “He's like a cold spot in the room.” Sypha's words echo in Adrian's head even as his companions continue their conversation. He can't help the twinge of hurt he feels from that, but it's true, isn't it? Somewhere between facing his father and waking up to this nightmare, he'd gone numb from cold. Part of that is his own fault; he'd been rationing his limited blood store underground so strictly that most of it was still there when his sleep was disturbed, and he couldn't carry it all with him. Without fresh blood in his veins he is literally cold to the touch. As for the metaphorical chill...

   “I know you're there, Alucard,” Trevor's voice drags him from his thoughts. He's staring right at where Adrian is blending into the shadows on the ceiling, where it should be too dark for human eyes to pick him out. A very lucky guess, or had Adrian made a noise? “I can hear you pouting at us from up there,” he continues when Adrian doesn't answer.

   Fuck you, Adrian nearly hisses, but he refuses to confirm his position. Pouting wasn't a sound, Trevor must have found alcohol in this museum of murder. He's completely silent and hidden as he moves to Trevor's opposite side, eager to startle him in return. “Impressive, Belmont, but your aim is off.” Adrian makes a point of projecting his voice to behind the mirror, but a glance around the rafters shows him the drunk idiot still looking him nearly right in the eye.

   “Liar. You moved.”

   “Did not.”

   “Did too,” Belmont sounds delighted with this new game. “You're not as sneaky as you think you are, little brat bat. How long are you gonna hide in the shadows like a creep?”

   “If you're so spooked by what goes bump in the night, perhaps you're in the wrong profession.”

   “I sure fuckin hope you aren't bumping up there.”

   Adrian is almost glad he's underfed, if only because he can't blush. He leans out enough to get an unblocked view of his companions, and the way Sypha is slumped against Belmont’s shoulder with closed eyes at least explains why she hasn't chewed them out yet. Really, he should have known she'd fallen asleep by her slowed breathing and heart rate, but Belmont’s heartbeat is so obnoxiously loud that it nearly drowns hers out. It makes his teeth ache.

   He doesn't realise he's started to zone out again until Belmont says, “I was joking, but now that you're just staring at me like that and not denying it...”

   Adrian blinks for the first time in who knows how long and swallows, ignoring the taste of venom leaking from his canines and mixing with his saliva. “I didn't think your bullshit was worth responding to,” he says with as much cool distain as he can muster, scolding himself for acting like a starved fledgling. Never mind that he's still healing (and lonely), his father taught him better control than that.

   His father, who is the reason he's injured and alone in the first place-

   “Then quit moping and come join us,” Belmont says, interrupting Adrian's thoughts once again and lifting his arm that isn't cradling Sypha to wave the sheet wrapped around them. “You need to put your dick away first though.”

   “I really don't need to, we just established that,” and I don't have one anyway, Adrian mentally adds, but that's his own business. He slips to the floor, landing quiet as a cat on his feet a good meter or so from the others. It's as far as he can get in the cramped space.

   “You really do, the first rule of sharing this blanket is no nudity allowed. There's a lady present, and you never know when Jesus is watching.”

   Adrian freezes in the middle of lowering himself to sit against the bookcase where he landed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

   “I was being sarcastic, nobody here gives a shit about Jesus, least of all Syph-"

   “I got that part,” he snaps, “what do you mean, “sharing this blanket”?”

   Belmont still hasn't lowered his arm, but he raises it a little more along with his eyebrows. “I mean that there's still room for another person under this sheet. I'm inviting you in and everything.” His grin indicates that was a another damn vampire joke, and but that's not what has Adrian's hackles rising.

   “I wouldn't want to leech your warmth. We can't all be cozy bed warmers for whoever bats their eyelashes.” His bitterness surprises even him, and he waits for a jab at his obvious sore spot that never comes.

   “We've got plenty enough warmth for you too,” Belmont says, smile softening. It's bizarre to see such a gentle expression on his face. “That's kinda the point of sharing a blanket.”

   Adrian doesn't know what to make of that. He can't deny that he wants to join them, that he misses the comfort of another's embrace, but what does Belmont expect to get out of this? He could have ignored Adrian's presence, or told him to piss off. Is he really just as touch starved as Adrian?

   “If my armpit is too much for your delicate nose, you can just say so. My heart won't break irreparably.”

   Adrian recognises the easy out that Belmont is giving him; he can refuse the offer without making things awkward. Just as quickly as it had flared, his temper dies again. Somehow, the option to say no is what makes him feel safe to say yes.

   “I suppose I can tolerate it,” he says, returning the wry smile as he crosses the space between them, “but if this is your idea of a practical joke, I'm throwing you off the balcony.” They're close enough now that their legs nearly brush, but he still hesitates to lean back against Belmont’s arm.

   Belmont closes that last bit of space for him, only to jolt as though he'd gotten a static shock. “Holy fu- no wait,” he wraps his arm around Adrian before he can pull away, “you just surprised me.”

   Adrian barely chokes back a noise when body heat starts to seep through their clothes almost instantly. He can tolerate low temperatures far better than most humans, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. He's hyperaware of each muscle relaxing in turn as the warmth spreads from his upper arms and back to the rest of his torso. It takes effort to not flop over like a dead fish. “I… don't know what you expected,” he manages despite the shock of heat hitting his sleeping heart for the first time in over a year.

   “Thought vampires only got this frozen stiff when they're starving.”
Belmont’s tone is casual but Adrian’s breath hitches none the less. He'd really rather to continue ignoring the elephant in the room, because he wasn't lying when he told his companions he doesn't need to drink to blood. He won't drop dead without it. He doesn't need to be healthy, he just needs to live long enough to end this war.

   “Relax, we can figure it out when we aren't sleep deprived.”

   That earns him an incredulous look from Adrian. What kind of Belmont willingly slept next to a thirsty dhampir? It would be a dumbass move even for someone who wasn't raised to hate all creatures of the night. Yet there the vampire hunter sits, head resting on the shelf behind him and eyes closed to potential danger. “And how are you so sure I won't take advantage of your vulnerable state? You couldn't stop me even fully armed and awake.”

   “Maybe not,” Belmont admits as he opens his eyes to meet Adrian's own, “but Sypha can. And you want her to like you, so you're not going to chew on me when she might catch you.” He gestures with the hand he's got on her shoulder to make his point, and she finally stirs in her sleep.

   They barely dare to breathe as her face scrunches and she groans as though she might wake. She makes a clumsy grab for the blanket and clutches it as she turns to smush her face into Belmont’s chest. She ends up so thoroughly cocooned that only a few fluffy curls of hair escape, and she mutters what sounds like either “oh fight me" or “go fuck bees" under her breath before finally settling again. It's oddly adorable.

   Adrian sighs, “how can she sleep through all our bickering, but not that?”

   “I figure Speaker camps don't stay quiet for long.”

   “I think you may be stereotyping.”

   “Look me in the eye and tell me she isn’t the type to be that one annoying cousin who never shut up as a kid.”

   “I… wouldn't know. I don't have any cousins.”

   “Oh. Right,” Belmont’s teasing grin slips for a moment, “Right… I should've guessed that.” Before they can think too hard about the rather depressing reasons that should have been obvious, he adds, “I mean, you haven't even shoved your icicle fingers in my shirt.”

   Adrian makes a noise as though he'd been hit in the chest mid-groan as that warmth finally crawls up his neck into his face. “What the hell does that have to do with-"
Belmont is fucking giggling at him, the drunk bastard. Adrian has to wonder how he's managed to avoid fresh alcohol breath. “It's a shitty sibling thing, sticking your cold hands in their shirt when they aren't looking. You get to warm up and make them scream, it's two birds with one stone.”

   Adrian hums in thought, relieved that Belmont wasn't suggesting what he'd thought he was suggesting. He considers this tentative friendliness between them, his own limited experience with people his own age, and the gap that remains between their lower bodies. Anxiety squeezes his ribcage at the thought that what he's about to do might be crossing an unspoken line before he decides, fuck it.

   He scoots closer and slides down a bit so he can wedge his still cold legs on top of Belmont’s own, and the reaction is even better than he anticipated. Belmont gasps, eyes going wide and body tensing in a barely restrained jump as he's caught between the urge to flee the unexpected chill and wanting to avoid jostling Sypha. His exhale comes out as a sort of strangled “hhgnhhhmf" before laughing, “f-fast learner- don't you fuckin' dare-" but his grin betrays him as Adrian toes off his boots to tuck his feet between Trevor's ankles. Adrian, for his part, is practically melting into the doubled body contact with his eyes closed in an exaggerated savouring of his victory. The closed-mouth scream from beside him is beyond satisfying.

   “Fucking Christ. At least you aren't so tall like this, you gigantic smug-ass cat,” he says as he's finally able to comfortably wrap him arm around Adrian’s shoulders instead of his back. He pulls Adrian even more firmly against himself so he can bring the blanket farther over Adrian's front.

   Adrian opens his mouth to deny having any feline traits but when his head falls to rest on Belmont’s bare clavicle what comes out instead is “mmmrr?”

   He would have expected skin on skin contact to make his thirst spike but instead every last bit of tension he hadn't realised he was still holding gives way to exhausted relief. He shouldn't feel so safe in the grip of a Belmont, sworn enemies of his people, but he feels like he's finally reached shelter from the storm. Like he can finally let down his guard.

   “Oh,” Trevor says softly, “you actually… purr.” His cheek is a warm compress on Adrian's forehead when he tries to look down at his face. Adrian swears he can feel the protective tenderness in his voice as surely as he feels the arm holding him close. He can't even be bothered to deny the noise of contentment escaping his throat.

   He isn't entirely aware of turning fully on his side and stretching out his arms until he accidentally bumps Sypha, who defends her blanket corner with a muffled “mmmggh, mine,” before emerging to blink at him. “Oh, Alucard. About time.” She reaches out and pulls the rest of the blanket around him so that the ends overlap and seal a cocoon around all three of them. As though she'd been waiting for him.

   “Sorry, I didn't mean to… disturb you.” His brain is becoming as syrupy as the rest of his body, and it becomes even more so when she cups his face in her palm and runs her thumb over his cheekbone. She's so close that he could count her freckles, that he can see faint flecks of gray in her blue irises despite her pupils nearly swallowing them as they adjust to the dark. He closes his eyes to avoid being overwhelmed by the eye contact.

   “Don't worry about it, just go to sleep already. Both of you,” her smile is audible even as she scolds them.

   “I already told you, I've had a of year sleep, I don't need more,” he says, lips just barely brushing her wrist as he speaks. What does it say about his companions, that they so fearlessly let his mouth anywhere near their pulse points?

   “Pretty sure a fucking healing coma doesn't count as restful.”

   Sypha pulls her hand away from Adrian to clumsily smush Trevor's mouth closed. “Don't be mean. But yes, you still need to rest.”

   Adrian's reply is cut off by his own yawn. The deep inhale fills his head with the smell of their skin and the lingering hint of cheap soap from the last tavern they'd stayed at. Their heartbeats and steady breathing are gentle white noise quieting his mind, and he forgets what he intended to say in the first place. He instead asks, “You're sure… this is okay? I don't want to… make you.. uncomf-"

   “You're perfect right where you are, we don't want you to move.” She slides her arm behind Trevor's waist just as Adrian has, and her other hand finds his to twine their fingers together.

  “I'm fine being the mattress,” Trevor agrees, tucking Adrian's hair behind his slightly pointed ear, “we'll keep you warm.”

   Adrian sinks into their embrace as he sinks into sleep, trusting them to still be there when he wakes.

Chapter Text

          Sypha has decided that Alucard is both absolutely adorable when sleeping, and a very convenient place to rest the book she's reading. Even Trevor didn't have the heart to wake him. Watching him try to escape Alucard's clutches for a bathroom break without rousing him had been very entertaining. 

          She's starting to wonder, though, if they had found him in Greshit a bit too early. It's been at least an hour since she and Trevor woke fully refreshed, but Alucard hadn't so much as stirred until Trevor wiggled out from under him and dumped him in Sypha's lap. Alucard had grimaced when his torso was jostled in the process, but otherwise continued to “sleep like the dead" as Trevor put it. Sypha thinks it was probably insensitive to use that particular phrase in reference to a half-vampire, but it was accurate. Did Alucard actually count as undead? She's heard “half living" used instead of undead before, did that make Alucard three quarters living? Would it be weird to ask him? Vampires aren't a common subject in Speaker stories, and it frustrates her that she knows the least about something out of the three of them. She's the scholar, dammit! It's a matter of p-

          Her line of thought is broken when the broad shoulders she's been propping her book against shiver enough that she nearly drops it. She hurries to make a note of her page number before setting it carefully on the floor. If the library weren't so dead quiet, she might have missed the soft whine Alucard makes as he turns his face against her knees as though trying to hide. At first she thinks he might finally be waking, but another minute with only the occasional twitch or uneven breath proves her wrong. She's starting to worry he might be having some sort of fit, until he curls in on himself and gasps as though in pain. It clicks, then, how similar this is to the way her grandfather's dog would yip and kick while dreaming. 

          Sypha runs a hand through his hair and leans over to murmur, “sshhh, it's alright. You're okay,” in hopes of soothing her friend. When that doesn't do much, she touches his cheek the way she had before that made him melt. He turns his face into it, but he's still frowning and his breath is becoming laboured. It had been fascinating (and honestly pretty hot) watching his fangs extend when he yawned before, but now it's a clear sign of agitation. Is she just making it worse? 

          “Alucard, it's not real,” she says as his hands curl defensively and she swears she can see his nails lengthen under his gloves, “please wake up, it's a dream it's not re-" 

          He hisses. She's heard him do that during battle or even when Trevor is being especially aggravating, but Alucard has never hissed at Sypha before. It's not even really at her, it's at whatever plagues his dream, but it raises the hairs on her arms nonetheless. 

          Her grandfather's dog had snapped at her once, when she tried to shake it awake. It was so docile otherwise, and that just made it scarier even if it didn't hurt. 

          Sypha is frozen. Alucard would never intentionally harm her. But if he mistook her for an attacker? She knows she can defend herself, but she's not sure she can she do it without hurting him.

          Trevor skids into view and around the corner, gasping, “What is it? What's wrong?” 

          “I can't wake him up!” Sypha waves her hands around, trying to get rid of her nervous energy. “He HISSED at me!”  

          Trevor just looks baffled as he sits (falls on his ass, really) next to them. He's not nearly as indignant on her behalf about the hissing thing as he should be. Does he think that's a normal thing for people to do when they want to sleep in? 

          “Christ, you made it sound like we were being attacked,” he says, still huffing a bit from running.

          “Wait, what?” How had he even known something was wrong? 

          “Yeah, what the fuck, Alucard?” Trevor asks, peering at his still twitching form. 

          “That's not what I-” she cuts herself off and tenses as Trevor places a hand on Alucard's upper arm. 

          Trevor winces even before Alucard twists and lunges at him like a snake. He barely has time to bring up his hands so that Alucard shoves his face into Trevor's palms instead of his neck. 

          Just as quickly as Alucard's face had warped into fury, it goes slack with bewilderment. Their matching startled expressions would be laughable if it weren't for the context. 

          “It's over, you're safe now.” Trevor's voice shakes. “It's not real anymore.” 

          For a moment, no one moves. Trevor, with his hands cupping Alucard's face the same way Sypha had before, and Sypha, having jerked out of the way and hit her head on the shelf behind her, watch as their teammate finally comes to his senses. He scrunches his eyes shut and ducks his head in shame, pressing into Trevor's touch. His hair slides forward to partially hide his face but Sypha can still see his fangs getting in the way as he softly says, “I'm sorry… I didn't-”. He swallows. 

          “It's alright,” she tries to reassure him, “nobody got hurt.” She rearranges herself so she can lean close. Moving slowly to avoid startling him again, she places a hand on his back before running it over his shoulders to hold him. 

          Alucard makes a noise like someone had just dug their fingers into a sore muscle. It takes a second for Sypha to realize it was nothing she had done; Trevor is pressing his thumbs on either side of Alucard's nose and stroking them along his cheekbones before repeating the process. 

          “Do you… have a sinus headache?” she asks.

           “Something like that,” Trevor answers.

           “I wasn't asking you.” 

          Alucard smiles a bit at Trevor getting scolded, though it's warped by the massage. “Obviously she wasn't asking you.” 

          “You're such a shithead. Do you want me to keep doing this or not?” 

          Sypha can practically see Alucard having to push back his pride. “... please,” he says. Shifting his gaze to Sypha, he adds, “My venom glands take up the cavities that form the lower sinuses in humans.”  

          When he doesn't elaborate further, Trevor clarifies, “so it hurts when they get too full because he hasn't fucking… ejaculated. Or whatever.” 

           “Really, Belmont? You couldn't find a better way to phrase that? Don't make it sound so vulgar-”

          “So you've got vampiric blue-balls?” Sypha asks, completely innocent and definitely not holding back a laugh at the mental image of dental dicks. 

          “You're both awful.” 

          This time Sypha can't help but snort. Alucard tried to be so deadpan, but his voice had wavered from the soft purr starting in his lower throat. So it's an involuntary reaction, then? That's adorable.  

          She rests her head on Alucard's shoulder and enjoys the calm for a moment after the scare he'd given them. Until she remembers her earlier question that Trevor never answered. 

          “How did you even know something was happening? You were nowhere near us,” she says, lifting her head again to give Trevor a puzzled look.

          Alucard, having closed his eyes in bliss, blinks them open again and almost looks hurt.  

          “Don't look at me like that, I was coming back! I just had to piss!” Trevor is actually defensive, even though he hadn't specifically said he wouldn't leave until Alucard woke again. “And I heard someone call out, so I hurried the fuck up on my way back.” 

          “Nobody called out,” Sypha says, more confused than ever. 

            Alucard hums, catching Trevor's hands in his own so he can think without melting into his touch. He doesn't let go of them though. “Is this related to how you claimed to hear where I was, when I know that couldn't possibly be true?” 

          Sypha raises her eyebrows. “Trevor, I dropped a book nearly as big as myself a meter away from you and you didn't notice.”

           “When?”

          “Yesterday, around you-have-terrible-hearing-o'clock. You didn't even stop staring at that fossil display.” 

          “What- oh. Okay, but that was a big ass skeleton. You can't blame me.” 

          “Mm, I hate it when the presence of big ass skeletons render me temporarily deaf,” Alucard says, snark no longer contained by gentle face touches. 

          Trevor is starting to flush now. “Oh, fuck you.”

          “Terribly inconvenient. Happens all the time,” Alucard continues.

          “The fucking, or the deafening big ass skeletons?” Sypha can't resist asking. 

            Trevor grabs on to the opportunity to shift the embarrassment from himself, “You're not allowed to fuck my big ass skeletons.”

           "For a moment, I thought you were going to stop after 'my big ass'" Sypha is now giggling hard enough that Alucard wraps an arm around her as though he's afraid she'll fall over. 

          Her mission is a success, Trevor is blushing harder than ever. “God dammit Sypha-” 

          Alucard informs them that, “Trying to have a straightforward conversation with you two is like trying to herd cats through a maze of boxes.” 

          “You speak from experience?” 

          “I'm experiencing it right now. Do you even recall what the original question was?” 

          “Okay,” Sypha tries to focus, “okay, he's right, why are you hearing things?” 

          “I'm not hearing things,” Trevor objects, “I mean, I am, but not… like that.” 

          “Your eloquence is truly astounding.” 

          “Hey asshat, you can either complain about me not answering the question or how I answer it, pick one.” 

          Alucard opens his mouth to no doubt continue provoking Trevor, but Sypha gives him a firm poke in his side. He sort of squirms a bit, and she's definitely noting down the possibility that he's ticklish for future reference. He wisely corrects himself with, “mgf- ah, apologies, I think the term you’re looking for is auditory hallucination.” 

          “Yeah… that. I'm not having that.” Trevor is giving Sypha a baffled look as though asking what the fuck kind of magic she just pulled, as he couldn't see what she was doing behind Alucard's back. Alucard is pretending like nothing happened in an attempt to regain some semblance of dignity. Sypha is congratulating herself on her excellent conflict resolution skills. 

          “It's… a Belmont thing, sensing when vampires are near,” he continues, the effort it takes to not get distracted again obvious in his expression. He doesn't appear to even realise he's turned his hands so that instead of passively having his wrists held prisoner by Alucard, he's sort of fidgeting with Alucard's hand. He doesn't seem to mind, letting Trevor trace his palm and wiggle his fingers. Sypha lets her own hand that isn't wrapped around Alucard rest within convenient grabbing distance, because it honestly looks kind of soothing. “and their, I don't know, mood? Intent, I guess? Like it's more obvious if they're focused on my jugular than if they're occupied with dragging bodies up into trees to save for later like a fucking squirrel.” 

          Alucard looks to the ceiling and inhales deeply as though asking the universe to grant him patience. “Every time I start thinking you're tolerable, you remind me of your inherited occupation by practically parodying yourself. You're shaving years off my theoretically infinite lifespan, it's truly impressive.” 

          Maybe Trevor can see something in his expression that Sypha can't from her vantage point, because he doesn't seem to think Alucard is seriously offended. “Okay, first off, it's not my occupation, because lone hunters never last long before they die with their own stake shoved up their ass and I'm not that desperate for a good fuck,” he grins when Alucard's face twitches and Sypha snorts, “Second, I'm not just bullshitting you, that's a real thing I had to witness! Because it's always the weird ones who get caught, isn't it? Any vampires with a sense of subtlety were probably peeking around their curtains like ‘aw fuck, Eddie's being a feral drama queen again, why's he gotta make such a scene and attract hunters?’ before reinforcing their glamour or something.”  

          “My lifespan, Trevor, please. You're whittling it away,” Alucard complains. 

          Sypha once again has to be the mature adult and get them back on track by inviting herself to the finger tangle party and saying, “okay, but-” and she's a bit startled by the way she has Trevor's full attention the instant their skin makes contact, “that still doesn't explain why you heard someone call out in my voice.” 

          “The amount of violently acquired remains displayed here would make this place ripe for haunting,” Alucard says.

           “No, I checked just after we got here, there's wards around the whole perimeter against just about everything you can think of.” That earns Trevor stares from the other two. “What? The last thing we needed was some dead ancestor showing up to flip shit over my life choices and the company I keep.” 

          It occurs to Sypha that what he isn't saying is that the violent death of his entire family happening right above the library was also a perfect set up for a haunting. Alucard doesn't even try to make a snarky comment, so she assumes he also caught on. 

          There's a somewhat awkward pause in the conversation. Sypha isn't sure if she should offer comfort, because Trevor is just staring down at their hands but his expression isn't very troubled. If anything, he looks like he's already thinking about something else.  

          “Okay so, this is probably going to sound stupid, but I'm just tossing ideas out here,” Trevor is tracing circles on Sypha and Alucard's palms with his thumbs, “Anyone could theoretically become a vampire, right? Like every human has the potential for vampirism.” 

          “Interesting that you would phrase it like an inspirational speech, but yes,” Alucard replies even though it was a rhetorical question. 

          Sypha is about to ask if any other species can be turned before she catches on to what Trevor's suggesting. “So you can sense me too because I might be a vampire in the future? Wouldn't that just make it a general extra sense?” She swipes her thumb across Trevor's and makes a mental note to find lotion, because she doesn't know how he can comfortably move with skin that dry. The physical proof that yes, he does wash his hands, is reassuring for her but likely painful for him.

          “I said it was stupid. You're sure you didn't make a noise and not realize? I mean, you sort of squeak when you drop things-” 

          “I don't squeak or drop things! And I didn't call out!” 

          Trevor turns away without answering (rude!) to defensively ask Alucard, “What? What's that look for?” 

          Sypha expected to see at least some expression on Alucard's face when she also turned her head, but he's doing an excellent impression of a sphinx. She assumes that he schooled his features too quickly for her to catch. Why else would Trevor be pinkening again? 

          “What look?”

          “You were looking at us weird.”

          “Weirdly,” Alucard corrects, and Sypha is tempted to headbutt his shoulder for using grammar as an evasion tactic. 

          “For fucks sake. Nevermind. Does it really matter what I heard?” 

          “I suppose it's not doing us any harm,” Sypha says, but something about this conversation has the gears in her head turning. 

          “It could be helpful though, if we could communicate over long distances,” Alucard points out. 

          “I'm not a damn telepath, I'm psi-null as a brick!” Trevor protests. 

          “I'm impressed that you even know that word, yet you clearly don't understand what it actually means,” Alucard's tone is haughty enough that Sypha decides against admitting she'd never heard the term ‘psi-null’ before. She blames the fact that they aren't using her first language. “You just said that the Belmont line carries a unique form of low-level telepathy. No one who's psi-null could detect an enemy’s intent.” 

          “I don't need telepathy to pick up on someone trying to kill me. The absolute rage and general wanting me dead vibes are pretty obvious.” 

          “Not if you can't see or hear them!” Alucard sounds almost as frustrated with Trevor as Sypha is with her own brain, because there's an idea just out of reach like a word on the tip of one's tongue -

          “Look, I was tested just like everyone else in the family, I don't have a lick of psychic ability-” 

          “OH!” Sypha's exclamation makes the other two jump a little, but she continues, “you failed the Mind Search test! So did I! You're trying to say that you're-” and she pauses because translated literally, the Speaker term is Mind Deficient, but she doesn't want to give Alucard any more material for picking on Trevor. “... psychically disabled?” she tries. 

          “Is telepathy really so common among Speakers that it's considered a disability if you're psi-null?” Alucard looks at her with surprised awe. She can hardly be blamed for being a bit flustered, with those pretty eyes on her when she hadn't personally done anything. 

          “Not quite? Almost? At least a quarter of Speakers can communicate directly to the soul and mind in some way. It makes it so much easier to really communicate the depth of stories, but I never managed to develop that ability.” She frowns, remembering years of hoping she was simply a late bloomer. Long meditation sessions and desperately trying to push an idea, a feeling, anything, into Arn's mind the way he could dump entire stories into hers. 

          “I think it would be kind of unfair if you were psychic on top of everything else,” Trevor says, “You're already such a damn powerful magician, I'm pretty sure every time you use magic God's dick shrinks a little more in fear.” 

          Sypha preens and squeezes Trevor's hand in approval. 

         “You're assuming God has a dick in the first place,” Alucard says. 

          “If He really knocked up Mary then He's got to have the required equipment somewhere,” Trevor points out. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze back and grins. 

          Alucard makes a noise like his lifespan is once again under threat, “I hate everything about what you just said, but especially the implication that God might have a dick anywhere on His body other than the anatomically correct location.” 

          “Listen, if I were an all powerful being and I got to choose where my sensitive bits go, it sure as hell would not be on the vulnerable outside of my body all the time. That's just bad design.” 

          “You can't distract us from the subject by talking about your godly dick,” Sypha says, even as the mental image of an erection sticking out of someone's palm or belly button is seared into her memory. 

          "I wasn't- gah,"  Trevor shakes his head, "Alright, so unless that Mind Search test is faulty, I'm not doing any fancy psychic shit. I don't see how I could do that accidentally anyways." 

          "There are some abilities that are more passive," Alucard says, and hesitates ever so slightly before adding, "or side effects."

          Before Sypha can ask what he meant by side effects, Trevor says, "I didn't realize it’s a psychic ability to be turned on by being ordered around." 

          "I said passive, Belmont, not submissive!"  Alucard snaps while Sypha cackles. 

          Trevor snickers until Sypha asks, “when were you last tested, though?” 

          “…why?” 

          She studies his somewhat wary expression as she says, “some people don’t develop the ability until later in life, usually after major changes or a strong shock.” and she leaves it at that, because she knows how to be sensitive and he probably doesn’t want - 

          “You can just say it, you know,” Trevor sighs. 

          "Puberty," Alucard deadpans.  

          "Are you fucking kidding me." Trevor gives him a look that screams you of all people are going to beat around the bush?

"I'm serious. The rapid changes in neuro pathways caused by the influx of hormones makes adolescence the most common time for latent abilities to present themselves. With your additional trauma happening at roughly the same time-" (and here Sypha and Trevor raise their eyebrows at the implication that puberty on its own is traumatic) "I'd be surprised if you carry any gene for psychic gifts which remains unawakened." 

          There is silence for a moment before Trevor says, "wow… I think I understood about half of the words you just said." 

          Sypha knows he must be exaggerating because she only speaks this language on a conversational level and even she understood most of that based on context, but Alucard scowls and snaps, "you might have become psychic as a teenager because the brain changes a lot when your body learns to be horny. Is that simple enough for you?" 

          The only response from Trevor is for him to tip forward and bury his face in their pile of held hands. He's basically folded himself in half with his legs still crossed like a pretzel, but now really isn't the time for her to be thinking about how flexible he is (his head is practically in his own lap, is he trying to give her a stroke?) because his shoulders are shaking and-

          "Learn to be horny," he wheezes. 

          He's laughing, not crying. 

          "That's what you're focusing on?" 

          "Like it's a skill you need to pra- hic -tice!" 

          Alucard turns to Sypha and says, "I give up." He isn't blushing but his bright yellow eyes make it obvious that his pupils are blown wide. 

          …Interesting. It seems she's not the only one practicing her being horny skills right now. 

          Sypha doesn’t realize she and Alucard have been silently gazing into each other’s eyes until Trevor sits back up, still snickering, and says, “You two need some space?” 

          She’s sure her face must be redder than her hair at this point. It really isn’t fair, having to be around attractive people who are tied to her by fate with all the privacy in the world, but not nearly enough time to have a proper Feelings Talk and thoroughly ravish them. Still, she keeps a stern expression and says, “Oh no, you aren’t getting out of this so easily.” 

          Trevor grimaces and lets go of them to hold up his hands in surrender. Alucard shivers just enough that she can feel it and she doesn’t blame him; she hadn’t noticed how warm she felt until the chill of the underground library started to seep back into her. That Trevor can apparently cause such a dramatic temperature difference by holding their hands really just proves their point. 

          “I really don’t know what you expect from me here. Even if I do have some fucky extra sense on top of the regular Belmont shit, and I’m still not fully convinced of that, it’s not like it matters. We have a lot more important things to be worrying about.” He gives Alucard a pointed look. 

          That successfully distracts her. “What are you two hiding?” 

          Alucard presses his lips together firmly enough to make them thin out and refuses to look at her. 

          When she doesn’t get an answer, she takes a guess. “We woke you too early, didn’t we? You haven’t finished healing.” 

          Both her men look surprised at that. 

          “That does explain why you need to feed again so soon,” Trevor mutters. 

          “Really? Is blood all it would take to make you feel better?”

          “It would help significantly," Alucard admits reluctantly. He's giving her an odd look now. "You aren't uncomfortable with that?" 

          "I'm relieved!" she says with cheer, "I thought you might need to sleep for another month or so." She is a little nervous about the idea of being fed upon, but she tries not to show it. She means it when she says, “I trust you not to hurt me, Alucard.” 

          “You might as well take from me first though,” Trevor says to the others’ surprise, “I’ve got more blood to lose.” 

          “A Belmont volunteering himself for a bite? Really?” Alucard looks almost suspicious. “Was the wine you drank last night blessed?” 

          “Even Trevor isn’t that mean.” She pats his arm. 

          “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence. I’ll have you both know I’ve been completely sober since that last tavern, but I can’t promise that’ll last. You’d better take my blood before I poison it with whatever dubious shit I dig up here.” 

           Before Sypha can protest against Trevor doing that at all, Alucard teases, “Careful Belmont, you almost sound eager.” He raises his eyebrows. “Morbidly curious about what vampire venom really does?” 

           Trevor just raises his own brows and smirks. “I take it you haven’t read up on what thrall resistance training involves.” 

          “... What.” 

           His attempt to leer at Alucard is somewhat hindered by the way he’s also having to fight back another fit of laughter. “You won’t be my first, sweetheart.” 

          “ oh,"  the other two say softly in unison. Sypha doesn’t know how else to react to the implication that Belmonts purposefully let vampires bite their children. How could they make sure it was safe? Did they keep vampires captive to practice on? Or did they have some sort of truce?  

          Alucard abruptly stands. “I don’t want to know.” 

          “Aw, intimidated by my experience?” Trevor’s tone is still teasing, but his expression is beginning to fall with self-doubt. 

          “No. And I’d prefer that you shut up about your family’s depraved practices, especially if you must continue with your inaccurate equating of feeding to sex.” He turns on his heel and marches away from them. 

          Trevor winces and Sypha sighs, “must it always be two steps forward, one step back with the both of you?” 

          “What did I do? He’s just being hangry!” But he’s already getting up along with her to follow after their friend. 

          “Is it really that hard to not antagonize him?” She fits her hand into his to pull him along, making him flush at the simple gesture of affection. “I know you’re making more of an effort than before, and I’m glad, but I don’t know what you hope to accomplish by getting on his nerves.” 

          “Got him to stop thinking about his nightmare, didn’t it?” 

          Sypha blinks in surprise as she realizes he’s right; their banter had shifted the overall mood away from fear and sadness so effectively that she had almost forgotten why they had been comforting Alucard in the first place. “Huh.” She gives him a considering look. “You were a younger brother, weren’t you?” 

          His grin is a little sheepish, a little proud. “Sixth child of seven. That obvious?” 

          They turn around a corner and nearly run right into Alucard, who’s leaning against a bookshelf with his head tipped down and fingers rubbing at his headache. He doesn’t open his eyes to look at them, but at least he hasn’t closed off enough to start hiding his pain again. How much did he overhear? 

          Trevor’s hesitant “sorry” is cut off when Alucard says, “If you weren’t just fucking with me and really are offering your blood, you should have a substantial meal first.” When Sypha’s stomach growls, he softens enough to look at her and quirk his lips into a slight smile. “Both of you need to eat anyways, we’ve been down here too long.” 

          She nods with all the seriousness that good food deserves. “Not a good place to make stew.” As she rushes past, she turns to Trevor and mouths apologize at him. She knows he would have anyways, but telling him what to do is too much fun. 

          From behind her, she hears Alucard murmur, “how delightfully ironic, that she has you whipped.” She can still hear that smile in his voice.

          By the time they catch up to her at the staircase, she’s bouncing on the balls of her feet. Alucard is walking close enough to Trevor that she’s pretty sure he’s leaning on him a bit. His flash of temper has faded; he looks ready to fall asleep again. 

          “Come on, come on, I want to see you work your magic again.”

          “It’s not magic,” Trevor protests, “it’s just basic cooking skills.” 

          “You can make carrots taste good,” says Sypha, “that’s magic.” 

           She presses to Alucard’s other side so that he’s squished between them. He’s still chilled to the touch, but they’re going to warm him up again.