Everybody knew about them but no one said anything. It would have been hard to keep it a secret anyway, because they traveled together, ate together, fought together, and slept together. Well, not like that together, but close enough to make it happen.
Adelbert had grabbed for her in his sleep the first time, or perhaps he had only pretended to be asleep. He had not spoken, he had only grunted something inarticulate. Some of the grunts may have meant 'I'm sorry'; when she replied: 'No, it's okay, I want to', the instincts took over and he took her.
Luckily for him, she really did want to: she had been fantasising about him, feeling his presence close to her, wondering if she herself should make a move. The lack of finesse that first time didn't bother her, since the foreplay had been going on in her head for quite a while already.
The next morning, during the first crack of dawn, he looked sort of sheepishly at her, not quite avoiding her, and it was weird… She figured he was a little bit embarrassed, but she said nothing about it and very soon he acted just like normal again.
Since then, they fucked sometimes. She noticed when he wanted her by the way he acted – grumpily, unfocused – and the way he looked at her; furtively, as if he couldn't quite decide whether to be mad at her or grateful.
Velma knew that she was spoiling him by being so available, but she didn't care.
Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't put up with anything like that. Velma could throw a punch as well as any man and she could kick better than most. If anyone tried anything funny with her, she didn't show any mercy towards his family jewels. Most men knew better than to try.
Adelbert, though, was not like most men. First of all because he wasn't; he was mazoku, but that wasn't the point. It also wasn't the point that he was strong and handsome and brave – if it could be called that when a man actually didn't care if he lived or died – and always up for anything, be it fighting light wolves, tracking down White Ravens or helping Conrad Weller play superhero…
When she first got to know him, she didn't even think of him in that way. Then she began noticing his body, his hard muscles and his calculated movements, and the harshness of his voice, his devil-may-care attitude – all of that made him more than attractive and she started wanting him. It wasn't love or even a crush; it was just a raw, physical desire that made her knees weak. But he seemed completely oblivious to this and at first she suspected he might swing the other way. Then it didn't seem like that was the case either.
But then he got drunk once and spilled some of his story; he didn't say much, but the few words that escaped him were so filled with bitterness that she couldn't help but drinking them, gulping them down like some bitter medicine without any sugar at hand to make it taste better. All she could do was to buy the next round.
It took a long time before Adelbert got that drunk again.
But it happened, and when it did, he spoke some more, and it was enough for her to understand some basic facts about him.
He had loved, and he had lost; it had scarred him, perhaps beyond repair. He was damaged goods. Any wise woman knows when to throw something into the trash can and when to try to mend it; any wise woman would take one look at Adelbert and then never lay eyes on him again.
But Velma was not exactly a practical house wife; she thrived on challenges, on balancing on the edge of reason to reach for the impossible.
So when Adelbert reached for her in the darkness of the night, she didn't kick his balls. She let him come to her and drown himself in her because that was probably healthier than beer.
She was, sort of, like his medicine? And she couldn't be too bitter for his palate because he kept reaching for her, again and again. She knew that he had lost the only sugar that could sweeten the bitterness of his life, but… there was some part of him that needed her, right?
He acted, after all, a bit differently now compared to the first time she met him. She could be wrong but she thought he was less angry, less hateful, and she could swear he actually cared about that black-haired boy-king; if he didn't, the moon was made of blue cheese.
So, she thought, if he could raise his head and look away from his own pain long enough to support young Yuuri and those who followed him, if he knew enough about what was good for him to reach for a woman's touch, then maybe… just maybe he could be retrieved from the trash can?
Not that he ever said that he liked her or anything. Heaven forbid he'd ever say the L-word! They never even kissed on the mouth.
They talked about it once when he felt angsty and unusually talkative. He told her not to get the wrong idea, not to get her hopes up, in short, never expect anything from him.
Velma cut him off by telling him that he was stupid to think that she would ever get any ideas like that, and he'd better watch out. To her, what they had was just a temporary arrangement; she could end it anytime because it wasn't like she needed a man. She just happened to like what he liked – to fuck, and if he knew what was good for him he'd better keep his mouth shut, or put it somewhere where it could do her any good.
He kept quiet after that alright.
But she kept being sweet to him, sometimes. She was there for him. She tried the hardest she could to make him feel good. When his eyes drifted off into the evening sky where he saw things only he could see, she cracked jokes and made him laugh and did all she could to make him look at her.
He was still aching for that dead woman, she knew it. But she was alive and that must count for something, must be better in the long run, right?
As long as they stayed together, she was sure that she could make him see reason one day and love her. She was sure that she could fix him, because she was that kind of woman – where others saw trash and danger she saw potential and adventure, and one day she was going claim her reward for it.