When the time, inevitably, comes that Alucard needs blood, he makes the decision so quickly it startles all three of them. Yes, himself included.
“Me. It’ll be me.” Trevor almost collapses to his knees next to them. It’s meant to be a quick movement, but honestly… it had felt like he was going to fall over, anyway. Nothing compared with how terrible Alucard’s looking, though. “Take my blood.” He fumbles for his collar. He’s not exactly prepared to be be bitten, but, well, they aren’t really being given any other choices here.
“You can barely stand!” Sypha hisses. Her hand settles at his wrist. “Let me–”
“After you’ve been using magic the whole time? Yeah right.” He shakes her hand away. “Besides, I can’t in good conscience let a lady be bitten, now can I?” Sypha does not look amused, so Trevor presses on. “I’m bigger, I've got more blood to lose. Alright? I'll be fine.”
“My injury would heal on its own,” Alucard mutters, but it's lacking conviction. Whatever he says, he's hurting.
He’s been favoring his right ever since getting hit. So maybe it hadn’t slowed him down much, but Trevor knows what a man in pain looks like. Or what a… half human half vampire in pain looks like. Dhampir. Whatever the hell he’s called, he’s the only one out of the three of them who drinks blood. Ergo, he needs blood.
“Yeah, sure, but we’re lucky to have a half a minute to breathe, who knows when they’ll be back.” He jerks the fabric away from his neck. “Just bite me already.” He frowns. “There’s a phrase I didn’t expect to say today.”
“Have you said it before?” Sypha asks, exasperated, and Trevor flashes her a tired, but coy, smile.
“Do you really wanna know the answer to that?”
There’s a noise from outdoors, something shuffling. Too nearby. Trevor muffles a curse and bares his neck to Alucard. “Get your fangs in there. It’s now or never.”
“Careful, Belmont.” Alucard’s hand is stained with fresh blood as he pulls it away from his ribs. He winces as he sits up, but his voice is as smooth as ever. “You’ll start to sound too eager.”
The other hand settles on Trevor’s shoulder, and he focuses on breathing. Not like he wants to be bit, but the world’s gone to shit and he’s had worse. He can take it. And better him than Sypha. But goddamn, his heart’s pounding. Whatever. He’ll blame it on the sprint to get here. He’s getting too old for this. “Come on, you know you’ve wanted a piece of me since Dracula’s castle.”
“No one can resist– fuck!” The pain of fangs sliding into his throat. Actually needle sharp, actually piercing into his flesh. Why hadn’t he thought that would hurt as bad as it did. “Jesus Christ, a little warning next time!”
Alucard doesn’t say anything, but Sypha’s already turned back to them. The worry writ across her face would be flattering if this didn’t hurt so damn bad.
“Does it truly hurt so badly?” she asks, and he grimaces, clenches a hand into a fist.
“Shockingly, it doesn’t tickle.”
He doesn’t feel any strength leaving his body before Alucard pulls away. But then he’s tired already, maybe he just can't feel it as it goes. It seems like it’s over too soon, really, and he’s eyeing Alucard as the man pulls away to thumb away a trickle of blood from his mouth. “You good?”
“I only required a little.” He sits back, and already seems to be sitting up straight for the first time since they’d gotten into their little tussle. “And you are not in the position to give more.”
He kinda wants to take offense to that. But he really doesn’t want Alucard’s teeth back in his neck and he really doesn’t want to have his ass hauled out of here if he does give too much. So he’ll defer to him, because shouldn’t he know better, anyway? “Long as it was enough to heal you.”
“It was.” Alucard stands, and seems to tower above them, and for a moment, Trevor thinks he’d much rather just lay down and take a nap right now because standing up seems like such a long way away.
But he doesn’t lay down, as much as he wants to. He hauls himself up, oh, and now he's feeling woozy, taking both Alucard’s and Sypha’s hands to help him further to his feet.
“We need to get out of here,” Alucard says, peering around the corner.
Trevor feels the blood still oozing from the puncture wounds on his own neck, sighs, and agrees.
He’s going to die here.
He’s already decided. There’s no way out. No weapons. Hell, not even a window in his cell. So he’s going to die here. That’s fine. He can accept that. The way the cookie crumbles and all that.
Apparently Alucard just had to try and rescue his sorry ass from this shithole, and apparently that hadn’t gone well at all, because the slamming of the door startles Trevor out of his half doze, but not as much as seeing Alucard tossed haphazard into the cell with him, bloody and actually bruised.
“Shit– Alucard.” His knees creak as he scrambles over to him. It’s probably the fastest he’s moved since he got locked up here. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He’s not precisely sure he can actually hear him. It’s jarring to see him so messed up. Half vampire and all. But maybe that’s part of the problem; Alucard heals fast provided he’s fed recently and Trevor hasn’t been here so long, a couple days, tops, so those wounds should have healed. Should be healing. They weren’t. They aren’t.
Trevor’s hands hover uncertainly over the injuries. His eyes scan the bare expanse of his skin and makes a guess. “Silver, Alucard?” he mutters, and as if in response, the man starts to cough and splutter over something Trevor can’t see or touch or know of. “Shit, okay. Okay, no need to get all sarcastic on me.” He slips a hand beneath tangled blonde hair and carefully cradles his head into his own lap. “Now we’re both trapped, you prick. And you’re probably, I don’t know, dying or something.” God, he hopes he’s not dying. Not like this.
His own death he can accept. No one else’s.
“Well, hate to say it, you’re not doing that.” He hesitates, trying to think. So Alucard needs blood, if that’ll help after silver. He thinks it will. He doesn’t have a better plan. “Not today, anyway. You’re gonna have to stick around awhile longer.” Alucard needs blood, he’s not awake enough to bite, so Trevor needs something to cut himself on… oh, well. The same mechanics, right?
He has to coax Alucard’s mouth open just enough so he can graze the underside of his wrist against a fang, and then he presses the bleeding wound to the man’s lips. Just enough to get him awake, get him conscious. That’ll work. Right? He thinks. He hopes.
He breathes out a sigh of relief when Alucard’s eyelids flutter, when the half vampire’s eyes stare up at him and groggily take in where he’s at and what he’s doing– what Trevor’s forced him to do by putting his bleeding wrist to his mouth, but hey, it’s his funeral without it, right?
The sigh turns to one of pain when Alucard grabs his arm and bites.
“Ow, fuck, okay! Take it easy…”
It’s different this time, though; Alucard doesn’t react and Trevor actually feels the blood draining from his body, he thinks– but then he’s already so weak from not actually being fed himself, this probably wasn’t a good idea but wasn’t like he’d had a choice––
–– he wakes up with a throbbing headache, and a faintly concerned looking Alucard sat next to him. An awake and aware, healed Alucard. Wait, concerned?
“… you’re alive,” Trevor rasps, and God, it feels like he’s been run over by a carriage.
Alucard raises an eyebrow. “You’re alive,” he replies, and Trevor wonders if he’s as relieved as he is, truly.
“Couldn’t prove it by me… ow… what a lucky bunch we are,” he mutters, making to prop himself up. “So… can you get us out of here or what?”
“Yes.” He stands. “I was awaiting your return to consciousness.” He pauses, and glances down as Trevor slumps back against the wall again. “I’m sorry for taking so much. I think their intention was for me to bleed you, after all.”
“Well.” A good plan. Mostly. Maybe. Easy kill, anyway. He is aching, and not just from the point where Alucard bit. “Glad you didn’t.”
Alucard hums, and turns away. “You may want to shield yourself as I take care of the door.”
“Right,” Trevor says wearily.
It’s hardly the lap of luxury, but he’s well enough used to it that he notices when something’s wrong. Sleeping in the wagon wasn’t comfortable, but it had been the only protection from the rain last night. Now, it’s not raining, and Alucard is gone.
Trevor props himself up on an elbow and squints at the back of the wagon, the cloth hanging messily along it. Listens. Waits. Alucard isn’t coming back, annnnd Trevor’s awake now. Might as well go take a look now since he’s up.
The mud squelches under his boots when he jumps down. “… why can’t we stay at an inn? Or a brothel, even. I’d take one of those. I’d gladly take one of those.” Far fetched, that. Alucard could be a wingman if he wanted to be, but Sypha gives them such a filthy looks when they talk about things of that nature. Hardly their fault. They’re men. Well, Alucard’s half. More than enough for wanting a good fuck. Clearly even vampires had urges, given Dracula had screwed that human woman in order for their son to be half.
But God, he doesn’t want to think about fucking Dracula fucking his wife. He needs to go back to sleep. Sypha’s got the right idea, asleep, and Alucard’s gone off to do Gods know what vampire shit in the middle of the night without telling them–
Ah, but no. There’s their half human, sitting on the rotting log near their doused fire. Unmoving. Really freaky sometimes. All the time. But then he moves, shoulders slumping forward as he rests his forehead against a palm.
Trevor frowns, gives himself the allotted few seconds to grumble in his mind about being awake too early and his own stupid compassion needing to leave shit alone, and then makes his way over. “You're awake?”
Alucard doesn’t raise his head. “No.”
Trevor quirks a tiny, still half asleep smirk at the sarcasm. “I know you're half nocturnal and all, but, uh, need to hit town by tomorrow afternoon and all.”
Trevor really ought to take his own advice. But, maybe later. “Alright, what’s your problem?” he complains, folding to sit at Alucard’s feet. “I went to sleep last, you were dead asleep curled up in the corner. Or pretending to be.” He narrows his eyes. “Play-acting again?”
“I was asleep,” Alucard says. “Someone woke me up when they toppled into the wagon.”
“I did not. I was quiet! God knows if I disturb the sleeping dragon, she'll gut me,” he mutters. He doesn't want to revisit the night he'd accidentally kicked Sypha once he was settling into sleep.
Alucard laughs, the same quietly amused way he'd done that night, once Sypha had stormed off to find ‘somewhere with less graceless men’ to sleep. But it's much more short-lived, and he still hasn't moved. “I just needed some air.”
Now that clicks. “Ooh, you're hungry.”
“The thirst has been nagging,” Alucard admits, and drags his fingers through his hair before sitting up. “Minimal feedings only last a dhampir so long as well.”
“This,” Trevor remarks as he pushes a sleeve up, “is becoming a habit.” Offers his wrist back to Alucard.
He remains impassive, save a singular arched brow. “I didn’t ask.”
“Well, I’m offering.”
“Then, who is it that’s making this a habit, again?”
He waves his wrist in Alucard’s face. “Just drink my blood. Come on, you know you want toooo.” His voice goes sing-song. He blames it on exhaustion.
Alucard pushes it away with the back of his hand. “Throat.”
“Your throat, not your arm.”
“Oh.” Trevor lets his sleeve fall, and reaches for the laces on his shirt to loosen. “Be honest, you just enjoy hurting me more.”
“Yes.” Alucard’s voice sounds superior, and his hand replaces Trevor’s after he tugs his shirt from his neck. He’s freezing. Trevor wonders if he’d actually slept at all or just left the wagon once they were both asleep. He shifts back to accommodate for distance, and Alucard leans over him to continue. “You fight with your hands. An injury to the wrist can affect the grip on your weapons. The location of blood drawn truly does not matter as far as my feeding goes.”
“Oh. Wait, so you’re doing this out of compassion?” He set himself up for that one, really.
A short, sharp burst of laughter. Breath against his neck. “Don’t be absurd, Belmont,” he says easily, and then bites.
It still comes as a shock when his fangs slide in, still a knee jerk reaction that Trevor knows he’ll never get used to. “Goddammit, you ass…”
Alucard laughs against his neck, fangs still firmly embedded in his throat and he can feel that all the way to his gut. In a weird way. A good way. Alucard’s happy. Content. Amused. Trevor can feel that through the bite, awash with warmth in that same weird way. Warmth and pleasure beneath the typical pain of the bite now.
He almost likes it, but shit, that’s weird, that’s so weird.
Alucard’s head snaps away and Trevor winces at the hasty exit. Then hisses when fingers tighten around his arm, those vampire claws biting at his skin. “Hey, knock it off!”
“Ah–” Alucard releases him. “My apologies. The vampire instincts kick in now and again,” he says lightly.
Sypha stops next to them, squinting through the gloom. She still looks half asleep, wrapped up tightly in her cloak. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She looks between Trevor, and Alucard. “You didn’t mention you needed blood…”
“I was trying to hold out.” Alucard’s voice is faint. Still vaguely tense. Still thirsty.
Trevor speaks up. “Which is stupid, because we’re about to head into town. No point risking temptation.”
“Yes, says someone who regularly gives in to temptation,” Sypha mutters, but it’s with a tired, wry smile, and Trevor laughs.
“I know all about it then.” He waves a hand, and presses his elbow back into Alucard’s leg. But the man remains unmoving. “Alucard.”
“You don’t have to drink his blood all the time. I’m sure it tastes revolting.”
“I beg your pardon?” he protests, twisting around to stare.
She must be overly tired, but Sypha doesn’t laugh like that usually. Trevor thinks both he and Alucard stare, and then she waves her hand in dismissal. “You’ll both come back to the wagon afterwards?”
“Yes,” they agree simultaneously, and Sypha makes them promise not to kill, drain, or otherwise maim each other before she trudges back to their home away from home.
“Well.” Trevor huffs, leaning back against the log. “I’m attacked from all angles.”
“You brought on my fangs yourself, need I remind you.”
“You needn’t.” He tilts his head to the side, both in invitation and a forming inquiry. “What does my blood taste like, anyway?”
Alucard pauses, hand against his shoulder again. Whatever he seems to be thinking about, it’s dismissed a moment later when he simply says “blood.”
Trevor gives him as much side eye as he can. “What were you really going to say?”
“Pig shit,” Alucard replies, and Trevor doesn’t even try to bother covering the snort as cough.
“Yeah? Well, like attracts like,” he retorts cheerfully, and Alucard snickers.
“Indeed,” he says, and descends to once again feed.