I is dedzor
Dec. 27th, 2007 09:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrso fucking tired all the time. could suggest reasons, but no sense in boring anyone (myself included).
finished first scene of trevor story, and the second scene as well.
The Housekeeper
Trevor was in love with Richard.
The problem was that Richard barely knew he was alive.
Richard signed his paychecks, every now and then he actually seemed to really see Trevor. Not for very long, however, and it always seemed perfunctory, automatic. Like maybe he didn't really see Trevor after all.
There were, Trevor had determined after many a day of pondering and sighing, three main reasons Richard would never notice him in a million years.
One, he was human.
Two, he was a boring human.
Three, he was an unattractive, boring human.
Sighing softly, Trevor finished drying off the last of the plates and put it with the others, then closed the cupboard. Draining the sink, he scrubbed it clean, and finished the kitchen by giving all the counters one last wipe down.
As Richard's housekeeper, his duties included cleaning, shopping, and taking care of Richard's pets. The latest had been finished with only the previous day, and Trevor had seen him well fed before the vamps took him off to toss him back into the sea of normal life.
Thinking of the discarded snack drew out another sigh. A pretty young man, with cinnamon curls and pale blue eyes. Trevor tugged dismally at his own straw-blonde hair and wished his stupid eyes were anything except boring hazel. That he had a build that appealed to Richard, since being a swimmer apparently wasn't good enough. That he had more color to his skin or something, but working for a vampire meant not so much time in the sun, really.
The clock on the wall chimed six o'clock, and a moment later Trevor heard the brush of a door against carpet. No other sounds reached his ears, but not a minute later Richard appeared from the hallway, padding slowly toward the bar that divided the kitchen from the sitting area.
He slid onto a barstool and yawned.
Trevor hastily looked away, focusing on his chores, going through cabinets and cupboards to see what he needed to buy at the store later that day. If he snuck glances here and there…well, he was only human.
Richard was definitely worth looking at. He always was...but now more than any other time. Everyone and anyone saw Richard polished and pressed, sharp and shining. All the parties he hosted, all those he attended – Richard cut a fine figure, dominating the nightlife of his small slice of California.
Yet Trevor had always thought him far more appealing in these brief moments. The one thing Richard did not do well was wake up – it took him at least an hour before he was well and truly awake, and if he had two hours that was infinitely preferable.
There was nothing sharp and calculating about this Richard. His hair was a mess, scattered in twenty directions after Richard scrubbed a hand through it. The dark blue pants and tank top he wore clung to his slender frame, rumpled from sleep. Best of all were the eyes – soft and muddled while Richard slowly joined the waking world, a deep, warm brown rather than the almost black they usually were.
Normally Richard sat there for a half hour or so before he began to stir. If he was in the mood to feed, he'd summon his latest pet to snack. Usually, however, he just moved to the sitting room and stretched out on the couch for another half hour.
Anyone else, that would have been going back to sleep – but Richard actually seemed to wake up while he lay there.
Lately, however, that hadn't been the routine at all. More often these days, he simply gave up with being awake and went back to bed.
Ever since the hunter Richard had wanted had chosen someone else, Richard had not been the same. Trevor hadn't had a party to clean up after for going on two months now, and where Richard usually preferred to keep his pets around for at least three months, these days he kept them maybe a week before insisting upon a change.
He wasn't playing in the slightest. Everyone saw Richard as a cruel and calculating playboy…but Trevor wondered how much of that was genuine. Oh, he wasn't crushing so bad he saw no wrong in the vampire of his affections. Richard could be an asshole, and often was one with relish.
Still, it was hard not to see some good in a guy who looked borderline adorable draped mostly-asleep across the countertop, and who paid all his people well, and never minded their taking days off. Richard threw his lavish parties, but he took care of the guests who attended. His pets were well treated, if thoroughly used. He was a hard ass, no doubt there. Trevor had seen too many hurt and angry ex-lovers (ex-amusements, Richard called them) to deny that…but still.
Part of him wished Richard had gotten the hunter he was obviously upset over losing…mostly, though, he was selfishly relieved. Richard would never be his, the idea of him noticing his lowly little human housekeeper was laughable, but at least Richard didn't really belong to anyone else either.
Trevor pushed up his glasses and pulled open the drawer that held his miscellany, grabbing out a notepad and pen, jotting down the stuff he needed to buy, notes for errands he needed to run.
He started to leave the kitchen, but hesitated. No talking was the usual way of things. He'd never dared break the silence, and Richard certainly wouldn't when he was still for all intents and purposes asleep. "Anything you need while I'm out, boss?" He jumped at the sound of his own voice, and that just made him feel stupid. He could feel his cheeks burn – and they only got hotter when Richard actually looked at him.
Not much, really. Richard had his head propped on his upper arm, the forearm draped over the top of his head. He didn't move his head, but his eyes flicked to regard Trevor for a moment.
Then he simply turned away, shifting to pillow his head on both arms.
That would be a no, then. Trevor stifled his disappointment. What had he really expected?
Leaving the kitchen and his gloomy boss, he snagged his denim jacket from one of the hooks by the door and let himself out, going over his lists one last time as he rode the elevator down.
Outside, night had well and truly fallen. Nearly seven now, not a hint of sun remained in the city. There was nothing but the city lights, people milling all about – people and more than a few vampires.
A handful of them gave him a considering look, but every last one dismissed him in the end. Part of it was that he kept his blood bland – mostly with garlic, which just did not get on well with vampire systems, but there was plenty of other stuff in the mix – but mostly it was that no one would mess with a human marked as being in the employ of Richard Freeman.
Trevor glanced at the scar on his wrist, a long scratch made by Richard that essentially said 'back the fuck off' to anyone who might have otherwise turned Trevor into a midnight snack.
The paltry scratch was nothing like the bite he really wanted; livid scars on his neck to proclaim that he didn't work for Richard – he belonged to Richard. But he was a lowly human fit only for housekeeping. Nothing even remotely like the beautiful hunter after whom Richard still seemed to be pining.
He yawned as he reached the grocery store, grabbing a cart and pushing toward the aisles. His hours were nine am to nine pm, so he was available for errands, the setup of the parties, everything – he generally went to bed just as the parties were starting, after he was certain the staff hired to manage it knew what they were doing. He started early enough the following day to ensure everything was once again spotless when Richard woke up. He had four days off a month, and could request more if he needed them.
Outside of his life managing Richard's house, his interests were swimming and video games. His collection of vampire-related games was impressive and vastly entertaining. Maybe he could play one when he got off the clock. Chances were Richard would go right back to his room, and he'd never cared when Trevor borrowed the sitting room TV.
Maybe Richard would go out tonight. Trevor wasn't exactly looking forward to when Richard resumed his games…but he'd rather that than the state of misery in which Richard currently resided. Such melancholy didn't suit him at all. They were never for him, or even turned in his general direction, but he liked seeing them all the same.
Sighing at himself, Trevor made quick work of the shopping. Normally he did it during the daylight hours, but he'd gotten caught up doing other things and then suddenly it had been nearly time for Richard to wake up and he always tried to be home for that if he could help it.
Hurrying up, he finished with his shopping and grabbed a taxi back to the building.
The clock was chiming nine by the time he had everything put away and tidied up, and he gave the house one last look over before going down the hall to his room. Shucking off his clothes, he showered quickly and then tugged on sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he could not quite bring himself to get rid of.
He hadn't seen so much as a hint of Richard since getting home, which meant he'd just gone back to bed. Disappointing, but Trevor had no clue how to help. Well, not completely true. He could certainly understand what it was like not to have the one you loved, but then again – Richard had tried and failed to get his precious hunter. Trevor had never so much as tried to get Richard.
Still, heartache he understood. He just…didn't know how to tell the boss that without saying way more than he should. Richard probably didn't want sympathy from his housekeeper anyway.
Scrubbing half-heartedly at his hair with a towel, Trevor perused his collection of vampire video games. Finally he picked an old favorite, one with extremely pretty vampires and hunters that favored whips.
In the kitchen, he poured a glass of orange juice and grabbed a bag of chips, then carried it all into the sitting room. Setting his snacks down, he got the TV, system, and everything running, then settled down on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of him.
Sometime later he heard a sharp crack of laughter, and let out a startled cry, controller tumbling from his hands. On screen, the boss he'd been fighting ended the fight abruptly.
Trevor only made note of his sudden loss from habit; every other fiber of his being was focused on the source of the laughter that had cost him a victory. He twisted around, rising to his knees, and smiled sheepishly. "Hey, boss. Didn't expect to see you again tonight."
Richard slowly moved his eyes from the television screen, and Trevor's breath caught to see that there was amusement in them. They weren't dazed with sleep or hard like usual or flat as they had been of late.
"Should I take it as problematic," Richard asked, mouth quirking in a further show of amusement, "that my housekeeper spends his time playing games that apparently entail killing vampires?"
Trevor flushed. "No—that's not—"
Richard laughed.
He was torn between pleasure at hearing Richard laugh, excitement that he'd been the one to draw out that laugh – and mortification as to the reason.
"Humans are amusing," Richard said when he'd finally stopped laughing. "A whip of all things. I do not think that would get you very far. I shall have to ask the hunter what he thinks."
Just like that his amusement died, and Trevor could see thoughts of the hunter overtaking him.
No, no, no. Trevor struggled for something to say. "There's also holy water. And crosses."
"I thought those had finally gone out of fashion," Richard said. "It's been a good fifty years since anyone tried to throw holy water on me." Annoyance flickered briefly across his face. "Thankfully, as they'd ruin my good suits throwing water all about."
Trevor laughed. "Better they throw water than champagne, though, boss." That particular incident had been one of Richard's ex-amusements. Afterwards, the man had vanished. Trevor knew better than to examine the matter too closely.
"Very true," Richard replied, grimacing again.
Then he threw Trevor completely for a loop by moving around the couch and dropping down into it. He stretched his long legs out and folded his arms across his chest, eyes on the TV for a moment before he finally turned to Trevor. "Well?"
"Uh—" Trevor blinked. "You want me to keep playing?"
Richard shrugged, eye sliding back to the screen. "It's amusing."
Trevor nodded and retrieved his controller, then resumed his seat.
Licking his lips, trying to focus on the game and not the long legs close enough to touch, he selected 'continue' and went for round two with the boss.
It was just after two in the morning when Richard suddenly stood up, and vanished down the hallway after a brief, firm touch to Trevor's shoulder.
Trevor sighed, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion he'd ignored so long as Richard was there with him – talking, laughing, making an occasional joke. It wasn't a side of Richard he'd ever seen, except perhaps in too-brief passing moments. This Richard was like the sleepy version, only completely awake.
A pity it was already over. Trevor would have cheerfully give up a night's sleep to spend those hours playing silly games just to amuse Richard. Oh, well.
Yawning, he shut everything down and then carried his glass and chips into the kitchen. Putting the glass in the dishwasher, the chips back in the cupboard, and seeing that all was well, he turned out the lights and wandered down the hall to his own room.
He couldn't help casting a brief look at the door to the master suite, as firmly shut as always. Succumbing to another yawn, he stripped out of his t-shirt as he entered his room, and did not bother to do anything but fall into bed.
*~*~*
"You have to jump," Trevor said, motioning uselessly. "Not there! Over! No, the other way! Ha—there, I told you so."
Richard scowled at the screen. "Seems like a bloody stupid way to construct a castle. Why would anyone put a wall in such a place?"
Trevor laughed and took the controller Richard absently held out. Quickly he did exactly what he'd been trying to tell Richard to do. "There," he said, handing the controller back. "Now be careful, and stop wasting potions."
"I cannot help it if my thirty-two bit ancestors are bloody cheaters," Richard muttered, glaring at the screen.
"More fun to cheat than be cheated?" Trevor asked, unable to resist laughing again.
"Precisely," Richard said, but the rest of his retort was lost to a growl as he was abruptly attacked by a hoard of zombies. A minute later the growl had faded into a smirk. "Take that, you stupid zombies."
Trevor shook his head, falling back against the couch laughing harder than ever. "The vampire has become the hunter."
Richard made a face and tossed the controller at him. "If being a vampire required I dress like that, I'd want a hunter to kill me too. Your turn."
Catching the controller, Trevor mashed the button to start the next level.
It took more effort than he liked to admit to keep his eyes on the game and not on Richard.
He'd thought that first night had been a one time thing…but every night following Richard had reappeared to watch him play, and on the fifth night Trevor had dared to ask if he wanted to try playing.
Eleven nights running, now, and Richard was getting pretty good at killing vampires.
Trevor wondered why Richard was bothering, but he wasn't going to voice the question. He wasn't going to say a single damned word that might take these unexpected nights away from him. They wouldn't last forever, so he wanted them to last as long as possible.
"It looks so simple when you do it," Richard groused. "Yet every time I try it, I wind up dead."
"Takes practice," Trevor said. "First time I played this one, there were times I threw the controller around in sheer frustration. There's one game I still can't beat." He turned away from the TV to grin at Richard. "I'll bring it out next time we play."
Richard nodded, then returned his attention to the screen, occasionally making a snarky comment about the vampires and hunters whenever they talked.
A few minutes later he handed the controller back to Richard. "Here, this is an easy fight. You do it."
Looking utterly unconvinced by the assurance of any easy fight, Richard nevertheless accepted the controller.
Chuckling, Trevor snatched up his glass and stood, making his way to the kitchen
He turned his head as Richard swore loudly at the screen – and promptly tripped on the small step leading up into the kitchen from the sitting room. He landed hard, swearing loudly as pain cut through him – and realize that he hadn't let go of the glass he'd been holding.
The hand which had held the glass was now a bloody mess. Trevor sat up awkwardly, grimacing at the sight. Yuck. He wasn't squeamish about blood, but his hand was not a pretty sight. It really fucking hurt, too.
Reaching up, he grabbed the counter with his good hand and hauled himself up – only to collide with something.
Someone. He turned around to see he'd collided with Richard – whose eyes were only for his bleeding hand, nose slightly wrinkled.
"Sorry, boss," Trevor said. "I'll get everything cleaned up."
Richard didn't reply, simply reached out to take his hand. There was no missing his fangs, not this close, nor the way his eyes had turned near-black. Trevor realized suddenly that Richard had not fed recently…so unappealing or not, his blood was bound to stir a reaction.
He stood still, too surprised to do anything else, as Richard simply began to pick the glass from his hand as carefully as possible. It hurt, oh good lord did it hurt and that was way too much blood—
Then Richard lifted his hand up and began to clean away the blood with as much care as he'd shown in picking out the glass and Trevor could only stand and stare and try not to freak out or move closer or anything.
It was hell, because Richard wasn't missing a single damned part of his hand at all. When he finally released it, Trevor could not do more than the same staring he'd been doing the entire time.
His hand was almost as good as new. Wet, sticky, but red with healing rather than blood. He tested it gingerly, but there was nothing but a faint soreness remaining. Smiling, he looked up. "Um – thanks, boss."
Richard shrugged the words off. "Take more care."
"Ah—my blood—you won't get sick, will you?"
"Sick?" Richard asked, looking confused. Then the expression cleared. "No. I admit your blood does not taste terribly good, but I'm too old for such tricks to make me sick. Best see that hand is good to go, and then clean up in here. Good night."
"Good night," Trevor replied, but Richard was already walking away.
Sighing, he glanced at the TV – where Richard had lost the fight, probably because he'd stopped right in the middle to help his clumsy housekeeper.
Trevor stared again at his hand, trying and failing not to think about the mouth and tongue which had lavished such extensive attention upon it – but in a wholly impersonal fashion, and with the added comment that his blood really did taste awful.
Moving to the sink, he moved mechanically through the motions of washing his hand, then fetching what he needed to clean up any glass remaining on the floor. Next he cleaned the sitting room, gave the kitchen another once over, and finally turned out the lights before heading down the hall.
As he reached his room, Richard came out of the master suite.
Gone were the faded jeans and white t-shirt, the rumbled hair and laid back manner.
No, the Richard of the past few days was gone. In his place stood the more familiar Richard – black slacks, deep maroon shirt, hair neatly combed, a single gold stud in one ear to match the pin in his black and gold tie.
Beautiful. Untouchable. Clearly on the prowl.
Trevor nodded to him as Richard passed, but he didn't even get so much as a glance in return.
Inside, he shut his door and moved stiffly to his bed.
He stared at his hand. Faint scars were scattered about it, from the larger pieces of glass. It still ached, but by morning there would likely be no pain at all. Not in his hand, anyway. Damn it.
It wasn't like he hadn't known…Richard had somehow been using the video games and crap to chill and recover and get over shit. Trevor's stupid damned falling and cutting himself had, it seemed, stirred the vampire from his slumber.
Richard had probably had to go out just to get rid of the taste of Trevor's blood.
Man, he couldn't win for losing. Just once he wished he could think of something to convince his boss to really and truly look at him. Or that he had the balls to simply walk up and say 'Look at me you, idiot. I'm better for you than any damned hunter.'
A better dishwasher, he thought bitterly. Errand runner. Video gamer buddy – but even that was now firmly and forever in the past. All because he'd tripped.
Making a rough sound, Trevor turned off his light and then threw himself into bed, tugging the blankets up.
He fell almost immediately to sleep, but woke up restlessly throughout the night. When he stirred at roughly five am, he could just barely hear Richard speaking. By the tone of his voice, he was soothing a snack.
The clock said he was due to be working in roughly four hours. Normally he got up soon, to do his own things before tending to the household…
Snatching up his pillow, Trevor dragged it over his head to block out the sounds coming from the living room.
finished first scene of trevor story, and the second scene as well.
The Housekeeper
Trevor was in love with Richard.
The problem was that Richard barely knew he was alive.
Richard signed his paychecks, every now and then he actually seemed to really see Trevor. Not for very long, however, and it always seemed perfunctory, automatic. Like maybe he didn't really see Trevor after all.
There were, Trevor had determined after many a day of pondering and sighing, three main reasons Richard would never notice him in a million years.
One, he was human.
Two, he was a boring human.
Three, he was an unattractive, boring human.
Sighing softly, Trevor finished drying off the last of the plates and put it with the others, then closed the cupboard. Draining the sink, he scrubbed it clean, and finished the kitchen by giving all the counters one last wipe down.
As Richard's housekeeper, his duties included cleaning, shopping, and taking care of Richard's pets. The latest had been finished with only the previous day, and Trevor had seen him well fed before the vamps took him off to toss him back into the sea of normal life.
Thinking of the discarded snack drew out another sigh. A pretty young man, with cinnamon curls and pale blue eyes. Trevor tugged dismally at his own straw-blonde hair and wished his stupid eyes were anything except boring hazel. That he had a build that appealed to Richard, since being a swimmer apparently wasn't good enough. That he had more color to his skin or something, but working for a vampire meant not so much time in the sun, really.
The clock on the wall chimed six o'clock, and a moment later Trevor heard the brush of a door against carpet. No other sounds reached his ears, but not a minute later Richard appeared from the hallway, padding slowly toward the bar that divided the kitchen from the sitting area.
He slid onto a barstool and yawned.
Trevor hastily looked away, focusing on his chores, going through cabinets and cupboards to see what he needed to buy at the store later that day. If he snuck glances here and there…well, he was only human.
Richard was definitely worth looking at. He always was...but now more than any other time. Everyone and anyone saw Richard polished and pressed, sharp and shining. All the parties he hosted, all those he attended – Richard cut a fine figure, dominating the nightlife of his small slice of California.
Yet Trevor had always thought him far more appealing in these brief moments. The one thing Richard did not do well was wake up – it took him at least an hour before he was well and truly awake, and if he had two hours that was infinitely preferable.
There was nothing sharp and calculating about this Richard. His hair was a mess, scattered in twenty directions after Richard scrubbed a hand through it. The dark blue pants and tank top he wore clung to his slender frame, rumpled from sleep. Best of all were the eyes – soft and muddled while Richard slowly joined the waking world, a deep, warm brown rather than the almost black they usually were.
Normally Richard sat there for a half hour or so before he began to stir. If he was in the mood to feed, he'd summon his latest pet to snack. Usually, however, he just moved to the sitting room and stretched out on the couch for another half hour.
Anyone else, that would have been going back to sleep – but Richard actually seemed to wake up while he lay there.
Lately, however, that hadn't been the routine at all. More often these days, he simply gave up with being awake and went back to bed.
Ever since the hunter Richard had wanted had chosen someone else, Richard had not been the same. Trevor hadn't had a party to clean up after for going on two months now, and where Richard usually preferred to keep his pets around for at least three months, these days he kept them maybe a week before insisting upon a change.
He wasn't playing in the slightest. Everyone saw Richard as a cruel and calculating playboy…but Trevor wondered how much of that was genuine. Oh, he wasn't crushing so bad he saw no wrong in the vampire of his affections. Richard could be an asshole, and often was one with relish.
Still, it was hard not to see some good in a guy who looked borderline adorable draped mostly-asleep across the countertop, and who paid all his people well, and never minded their taking days off. Richard threw his lavish parties, but he took care of the guests who attended. His pets were well treated, if thoroughly used. He was a hard ass, no doubt there. Trevor had seen too many hurt and angry ex-lovers (ex-amusements, Richard called them) to deny that…but still.
Part of him wished Richard had gotten the hunter he was obviously upset over losing…mostly, though, he was selfishly relieved. Richard would never be his, the idea of him noticing his lowly little human housekeeper was laughable, but at least Richard didn't really belong to anyone else either.
Trevor pushed up his glasses and pulled open the drawer that held his miscellany, grabbing out a notepad and pen, jotting down the stuff he needed to buy, notes for errands he needed to run.
He started to leave the kitchen, but hesitated. No talking was the usual way of things. He'd never dared break the silence, and Richard certainly wouldn't when he was still for all intents and purposes asleep. "Anything you need while I'm out, boss?" He jumped at the sound of his own voice, and that just made him feel stupid. He could feel his cheeks burn – and they only got hotter when Richard actually looked at him.
Not much, really. Richard had his head propped on his upper arm, the forearm draped over the top of his head. He didn't move his head, but his eyes flicked to regard Trevor for a moment.
Then he simply turned away, shifting to pillow his head on both arms.
That would be a no, then. Trevor stifled his disappointment. What had he really expected?
Leaving the kitchen and his gloomy boss, he snagged his denim jacket from one of the hooks by the door and let himself out, going over his lists one last time as he rode the elevator down.
Outside, night had well and truly fallen. Nearly seven now, not a hint of sun remained in the city. There was nothing but the city lights, people milling all about – people and more than a few vampires.
A handful of them gave him a considering look, but every last one dismissed him in the end. Part of it was that he kept his blood bland – mostly with garlic, which just did not get on well with vampire systems, but there was plenty of other stuff in the mix – but mostly it was that no one would mess with a human marked as being in the employ of Richard Freeman.
Trevor glanced at the scar on his wrist, a long scratch made by Richard that essentially said 'back the fuck off' to anyone who might have otherwise turned Trevor into a midnight snack.
The paltry scratch was nothing like the bite he really wanted; livid scars on his neck to proclaim that he didn't work for Richard – he belonged to Richard. But he was a lowly human fit only for housekeeping. Nothing even remotely like the beautiful hunter after whom Richard still seemed to be pining.
He yawned as he reached the grocery store, grabbing a cart and pushing toward the aisles. His hours were nine am to nine pm, so he was available for errands, the setup of the parties, everything – he generally went to bed just as the parties were starting, after he was certain the staff hired to manage it knew what they were doing. He started early enough the following day to ensure everything was once again spotless when Richard woke up. He had four days off a month, and could request more if he needed them.
Outside of his life managing Richard's house, his interests were swimming and video games. His collection of vampire-related games was impressive and vastly entertaining. Maybe he could play one when he got off the clock. Chances were Richard would go right back to his room, and he'd never cared when Trevor borrowed the sitting room TV.
Maybe Richard would go out tonight. Trevor wasn't exactly looking forward to when Richard resumed his games…but he'd rather that than the state of misery in which Richard currently resided. Such melancholy didn't suit him at all. They were never for him, or even turned in his general direction, but he liked seeing them all the same.
Sighing at himself, Trevor made quick work of the shopping. Normally he did it during the daylight hours, but he'd gotten caught up doing other things and then suddenly it had been nearly time for Richard to wake up and he always tried to be home for that if he could help it.
Hurrying up, he finished with his shopping and grabbed a taxi back to the building.
The clock was chiming nine by the time he had everything put away and tidied up, and he gave the house one last look over before going down the hall to his room. Shucking off his clothes, he showered quickly and then tugged on sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he could not quite bring himself to get rid of.
He hadn't seen so much as a hint of Richard since getting home, which meant he'd just gone back to bed. Disappointing, but Trevor had no clue how to help. Well, not completely true. He could certainly understand what it was like not to have the one you loved, but then again – Richard had tried and failed to get his precious hunter. Trevor had never so much as tried to get Richard.
Still, heartache he understood. He just…didn't know how to tell the boss that without saying way more than he should. Richard probably didn't want sympathy from his housekeeper anyway.
Scrubbing half-heartedly at his hair with a towel, Trevor perused his collection of vampire video games. Finally he picked an old favorite, one with extremely pretty vampires and hunters that favored whips.
In the kitchen, he poured a glass of orange juice and grabbed a bag of chips, then carried it all into the sitting room. Setting his snacks down, he got the TV, system, and everything running, then settled down on the floor with his back against the couch, legs stretched out in front of him.
Sometime later he heard a sharp crack of laughter, and let out a startled cry, controller tumbling from his hands. On screen, the boss he'd been fighting ended the fight abruptly.
Trevor only made note of his sudden loss from habit; every other fiber of his being was focused on the source of the laughter that had cost him a victory. He twisted around, rising to his knees, and smiled sheepishly. "Hey, boss. Didn't expect to see you again tonight."
Richard slowly moved his eyes from the television screen, and Trevor's breath caught to see that there was amusement in them. They weren't dazed with sleep or hard like usual or flat as they had been of late.
"Should I take it as problematic," Richard asked, mouth quirking in a further show of amusement, "that my housekeeper spends his time playing games that apparently entail killing vampires?"
Trevor flushed. "No—that's not—"
Richard laughed.
He was torn between pleasure at hearing Richard laugh, excitement that he'd been the one to draw out that laugh – and mortification as to the reason.
"Humans are amusing," Richard said when he'd finally stopped laughing. "A whip of all things. I do not think that would get you very far. I shall have to ask the hunter what he thinks."
Just like that his amusement died, and Trevor could see thoughts of the hunter overtaking him.
No, no, no. Trevor struggled for something to say. "There's also holy water. And crosses."
"I thought those had finally gone out of fashion," Richard said. "It's been a good fifty years since anyone tried to throw holy water on me." Annoyance flickered briefly across his face. "Thankfully, as they'd ruin my good suits throwing water all about."
Trevor laughed. "Better they throw water than champagne, though, boss." That particular incident had been one of Richard's ex-amusements. Afterwards, the man had vanished. Trevor knew better than to examine the matter too closely.
"Very true," Richard replied, grimacing again.
Then he threw Trevor completely for a loop by moving around the couch and dropping down into it. He stretched his long legs out and folded his arms across his chest, eyes on the TV for a moment before he finally turned to Trevor. "Well?"
"Uh—" Trevor blinked. "You want me to keep playing?"
Richard shrugged, eye sliding back to the screen. "It's amusing."
Trevor nodded and retrieved his controller, then resumed his seat.
Licking his lips, trying to focus on the game and not the long legs close enough to touch, he selected 'continue' and went for round two with the boss.
It was just after two in the morning when Richard suddenly stood up, and vanished down the hallway after a brief, firm touch to Trevor's shoulder.
Trevor sighed, suddenly feeling all the exhaustion he'd ignored so long as Richard was there with him – talking, laughing, making an occasional joke. It wasn't a side of Richard he'd ever seen, except perhaps in too-brief passing moments. This Richard was like the sleepy version, only completely awake.
A pity it was already over. Trevor would have cheerfully give up a night's sleep to spend those hours playing silly games just to amuse Richard. Oh, well.
Yawning, he shut everything down and then carried his glass and chips into the kitchen. Putting the glass in the dishwasher, the chips back in the cupboard, and seeing that all was well, he turned out the lights and wandered down the hall to his own room.
He couldn't help casting a brief look at the door to the master suite, as firmly shut as always. Succumbing to another yawn, he stripped out of his t-shirt as he entered his room, and did not bother to do anything but fall into bed.
*~*~*
"You have to jump," Trevor said, motioning uselessly. "Not there! Over! No, the other way! Ha—there, I told you so."
Richard scowled at the screen. "Seems like a bloody stupid way to construct a castle. Why would anyone put a wall in such a place?"
Trevor laughed and took the controller Richard absently held out. Quickly he did exactly what he'd been trying to tell Richard to do. "There," he said, handing the controller back. "Now be careful, and stop wasting potions."
"I cannot help it if my thirty-two bit ancestors are bloody cheaters," Richard muttered, glaring at the screen.
"More fun to cheat than be cheated?" Trevor asked, unable to resist laughing again.
"Precisely," Richard said, but the rest of his retort was lost to a growl as he was abruptly attacked by a hoard of zombies. A minute later the growl had faded into a smirk. "Take that, you stupid zombies."
Trevor shook his head, falling back against the couch laughing harder than ever. "The vampire has become the hunter."
Richard made a face and tossed the controller at him. "If being a vampire required I dress like that, I'd want a hunter to kill me too. Your turn."
Catching the controller, Trevor mashed the button to start the next level.
It took more effort than he liked to admit to keep his eyes on the game and not on Richard.
He'd thought that first night had been a one time thing…but every night following Richard had reappeared to watch him play, and on the fifth night Trevor had dared to ask if he wanted to try playing.
Eleven nights running, now, and Richard was getting pretty good at killing vampires.
Trevor wondered why Richard was bothering, but he wasn't going to voice the question. He wasn't going to say a single damned word that might take these unexpected nights away from him. They wouldn't last forever, so he wanted them to last as long as possible.
"It looks so simple when you do it," Richard groused. "Yet every time I try it, I wind up dead."
"Takes practice," Trevor said. "First time I played this one, there were times I threw the controller around in sheer frustration. There's one game I still can't beat." He turned away from the TV to grin at Richard. "I'll bring it out next time we play."
Richard nodded, then returned his attention to the screen, occasionally making a snarky comment about the vampires and hunters whenever they talked.
A few minutes later he handed the controller back to Richard. "Here, this is an easy fight. You do it."
Looking utterly unconvinced by the assurance of any easy fight, Richard nevertheless accepted the controller.
Chuckling, Trevor snatched up his glass and stood, making his way to the kitchen
He turned his head as Richard swore loudly at the screen – and promptly tripped on the small step leading up into the kitchen from the sitting room. He landed hard, swearing loudly as pain cut through him – and realize that he hadn't let go of the glass he'd been holding.
The hand which had held the glass was now a bloody mess. Trevor sat up awkwardly, grimacing at the sight. Yuck. He wasn't squeamish about blood, but his hand was not a pretty sight. It really fucking hurt, too.
Reaching up, he grabbed the counter with his good hand and hauled himself up – only to collide with something.
Someone. He turned around to see he'd collided with Richard – whose eyes were only for his bleeding hand, nose slightly wrinkled.
"Sorry, boss," Trevor said. "I'll get everything cleaned up."
Richard didn't reply, simply reached out to take his hand. There was no missing his fangs, not this close, nor the way his eyes had turned near-black. Trevor realized suddenly that Richard had not fed recently…so unappealing or not, his blood was bound to stir a reaction.
He stood still, too surprised to do anything else, as Richard simply began to pick the glass from his hand as carefully as possible. It hurt, oh good lord did it hurt and that was way too much blood—
Then Richard lifted his hand up and began to clean away the blood with as much care as he'd shown in picking out the glass and Trevor could only stand and stare and try not to freak out or move closer or anything.
It was hell, because Richard wasn't missing a single damned part of his hand at all. When he finally released it, Trevor could not do more than the same staring he'd been doing the entire time.
His hand was almost as good as new. Wet, sticky, but red with healing rather than blood. He tested it gingerly, but there was nothing but a faint soreness remaining. Smiling, he looked up. "Um – thanks, boss."
Richard shrugged the words off. "Take more care."
"Ah—my blood—you won't get sick, will you?"
"Sick?" Richard asked, looking confused. Then the expression cleared. "No. I admit your blood does not taste terribly good, but I'm too old for such tricks to make me sick. Best see that hand is good to go, and then clean up in here. Good night."
"Good night," Trevor replied, but Richard was already walking away.
Sighing, he glanced at the TV – where Richard had lost the fight, probably because he'd stopped right in the middle to help his clumsy housekeeper.
Trevor stared again at his hand, trying and failing not to think about the mouth and tongue which had lavished such extensive attention upon it – but in a wholly impersonal fashion, and with the added comment that his blood really did taste awful.
Moving to the sink, he moved mechanically through the motions of washing his hand, then fetching what he needed to clean up any glass remaining on the floor. Next he cleaned the sitting room, gave the kitchen another once over, and finally turned out the lights before heading down the hall.
As he reached his room, Richard came out of the master suite.
Gone were the faded jeans and white t-shirt, the rumbled hair and laid back manner.
No, the Richard of the past few days was gone. In his place stood the more familiar Richard – black slacks, deep maroon shirt, hair neatly combed, a single gold stud in one ear to match the pin in his black and gold tie.
Beautiful. Untouchable. Clearly on the prowl.
Trevor nodded to him as Richard passed, but he didn't even get so much as a glance in return.
Inside, he shut his door and moved stiffly to his bed.
He stared at his hand. Faint scars were scattered about it, from the larger pieces of glass. It still ached, but by morning there would likely be no pain at all. Not in his hand, anyway. Damn it.
It wasn't like he hadn't known…Richard had somehow been using the video games and crap to chill and recover and get over shit. Trevor's stupid damned falling and cutting himself had, it seemed, stirred the vampire from his slumber.
Richard had probably had to go out just to get rid of the taste of Trevor's blood.
Man, he couldn't win for losing. Just once he wished he could think of something to convince his boss to really and truly look at him. Or that he had the balls to simply walk up and say 'Look at me you, idiot. I'm better for you than any damned hunter.'
A better dishwasher, he thought bitterly. Errand runner. Video gamer buddy – but even that was now firmly and forever in the past. All because he'd tripped.
Making a rough sound, Trevor turned off his light and then threw himself into bed, tugging the blankets up.
He fell almost immediately to sleep, but woke up restlessly throughout the night. When he stirred at roughly five am, he could just barely hear Richard speaking. By the tone of his voice, he was soothing a snack.
The clock said he was due to be working in roughly four hours. Normally he got up soon, to do his own things before tending to the household…
Snatching up his pillow, Trevor dragged it over his head to block out the sounds coming from the living room.
