Chapter Text
Alucard was never one for meaningless words being tossed in the air. The kind of talk that was used simply to fill space and ease dull minds. Perhaps it was due to his sheltered life perched on Dracula’s knee- a life in which neither of his parents were much for talking of the weather or favourite seasons.
Or perhaps it was Belmont, whom in a drunken stupor- absolutely would not shut the fuck up even if his life depended on it. Granted, it had only happened one other time in Alucard’s presence- but it wasn’t something he missed seeing. Trevor was half sober at the best of times, but seeing him flat out drunk was always a completely different affair.
Sypha told him (whined to him) about it through their entire trek to the old Belmont manor. All the instances in which the pair of them fought off Dracula’s minions while Trevor nursed a hangover, the time he attempted to seduce and dance with the barkeep’s broom and the man’s utter lack of a filter as soon as his lips touched a bottle’s...
...And, unfortunately, it seemed that all the Belmonts were hopeless drunks that had booze stashed everywhere because as Sypha and Alucard scour through the archives of the underground library- Trevor comes back with at least half a dozen bottles of amber tinted liquor and a somewhat present flush on his cheeks.
“Thank fuck they hid some down here before it all went to shit,” Trevor says, halfway through a gulp of his first(?) bottle. That of which was already a quarter empty.
Sypha makes a noise of great annoyance on the other side of the bookshelf Alucard was glancing over. “Trevor, we’re supposed to be looking for something to help us,” she scolds, her accent making the words sound more stern (and less discernable to Trevor.)
“Well this-” he gestures to the bottle in his hand, “is helping me.” He takes another swig with reckless abandon, plonking himself down on the plush, (yet dusty) armchair laid out in front of the rows of shelves.
The movement nearly causes the liquid in the bottle to spill, and Trevor quickly rights himself to save it. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that not a drop had been wasted just yet. “Can’t bloody read anyway…”
Alucard raises his eyebrows at that, “you can’t read?”
Trevor snorts, his nose scrunching unpleasantly, “not everyone had access to unbridled knowledge as a child, unlike you.”
Alucard looks at him, utterly incredulous. He gestures to the levels upon levels of information at their fingertips. “What do you call this then, Belmont? A fucking lavatory?”
“Shut up. I lost all of this when I was young.” Trevor continues, waxing poetic as he slid further down into the chair. Perhaps he’d drunken another bottle on the way back here. He seemed awful… off for someone only beginning to undo all the good, sober progress he’d been making.
“You were fourteen, Trevor, that’s more than enough time to learn how to read.” Sypha isn’t even glancing in his direction at this point. It nicely reminds Alucard that she had to deal with Trevor even longer than he’s had to. “I learnt when I was four years old.”
“Yeah, well, I was too busy helping my family save the fucking world from monsters. You don’t need to learn to read to know how to fight, get drunk and get laid.”
Sypha and Alucard exchange glances with one another and then go back to researching. It was probably better if they neglected to indulge him. Even if Alucard had only experienced snippets of his antics- he knew better than to encourage it. But good lord was his voice grating on Alucard’s nerves. It was like a constant reminder that he may have made the wrong choice, a choice that would get all three of them killed.
“Don’t ignore me.” Trevor whines, god, he was impossible to handle when he was like this. Alucard was at his wit's end. He feels his fingers clench a little too harshly on the ancient spine of a book.
“Belmont, if you don’t cease your drunken shenanigans, I will take back my word and gut you like the animal you seem to be.”
Trevor doesn’t even look phased, simply lounging on the seat like a cat in search of sunlight. “Ooh, now is that a threat or a promise?”
The implication leaves Alucard’s cheeks flushing with blood- an unfortunate side effect of being half-human.
“I’m very skilled in the art of the whip, golden boy.” Trevor slurs, all but rolling off the end of the chair in a poor attempt of seduction.
Sypha just groans, “I owe nothing to the God your people pray to, but if he is out there, I only hope you find him.”
Trevor’s never really had the opportunity (or the pleasure) to ‘interact’ with people while drunk before this. Unless one was counting the local bartender- or a very cute goat that had begun to chew on his hair as he tried to sleep for the night.
Meaning that now that he had ‘friends’ of some sort- he couldn’t stop spilling his thoughts. His drunk self was damn near giddy to offload his inner machinations.
He had no idea how much it was irritating both Sypha and Alucard. He just knew that he was having a wonderful time philosophising over everything under the sun.
“Alucard, you’re quite lucky that your father’s name backwards is kind of foreboding. Dracula... I can’t imagine that working for anyone else’s name. Can you imagine if I had a son, and he waged war against me and then the townspeople called him Rovert? No one would be scared of a Rovert. It just sounds like Robert, but worse. I could easily defeat him with mockery alone.”
“I swear on whatever god you pray to, Belmont, I will kill you if you utter another word.”
Trevor just rolls his eyes, “the only god I pray to, my love, is this one right here.” He gestures to another full bottle of alcohol before popping the cork and chugging once more.
They had so much work to do before they were to face Dracula.