He sifted his fingers gently through the platinum blonde strands of her hair, finding solace in the way they whispered across his skin as he let them fall. He inched closer, pressing her hair to his face now and inhaling deeply, taking in the sweet, rich fragrance which was so impeccably her.
She turned her head and cast a quiet, side-long glance at him, carrying him back into reality. Dutifully he straightened and took up the silver hairbrush that he had set down beside her on the bed where they both sat. She leaned her fair blonde head back toward him as he leisurely drew the brush through the thick locks of her hair. The two sat in silence, she taking a much-needed break from the outside world and he reveling in his proximity to her—both secretly taking pleasure in the lazy intimacy of the moment.
Integra coughed quietly and Alucard paused in his ministrations to hand her the cup of tea that rested next to him on the nightstand. As she sipped it gingerly, he gathered her hair up and twisted it into a messy bun atop her head and she sighed into the cup with relief. Alucard pressed the back of his icy hand against her neck, which burned hot against his bare skin. The vampire was rarely allowed to pay such attentions to his master—he had once thought it was simply her pride, but as of late he had come to reconsider that it was because she saw the real reason behind his actions, his longing to be closer to her through any means possible… But sickness was the one exception, the one time when he could lavish care on her without much consequence. She wouldn't let herself be pampered per say—but she always seemed to welcome his company when under the thick, indulgent cloud of fever.
She leaned wearily against him and he ensnared her thin waist with his arms, burrowing himself in the crook of her neck. She braced herself against the unexpected contact but made no move to order him away. Instead she curled a strand of his inky black hair around her finger thoughtfully and he raised his eyes to look at her from atop his perch on her shoulder.
"What do you think you're doing, Alucard?" she asked softly, almost disinterestedly.
He smiled into her shoulder. "Doting upon my master."
A pause. "Do you ever get tired of it? Of serving me?"
He shook his head once, concisely. "I don't tend to you the way the slave tends to the slavedriver." He drew back so that he could look at her properly as he spoke. Somewhere in the back of his mind he marveled at the way her cerulean blue eyes seemed to glow alight with fire from the fever.
"I serve you as a man serves a woman," he offered simply with a small smirk, "and there's not an ounce of shame in it."
She furrowed her brow and looked thoughtfully at him, though her lids were growing heavy with exhaustion. She detached herself from his embrace and leaned back on her pillows, trying to suppress a yawn. "Kind words from Alucard?" she said feigning surprise. "You must be up to something."
"Or perhaps I just care about my dear little master," he said tauntingly, eyes dancing.
Integra scoffed at this but said nothing as she closed her eyes and pulled a blanket up, letting sleep overtake her.
Alucard's smirk faded and his face grew solemn as he watched her, the words still fresh on his lips.
