Edge of Silence

Co-Authored Fluff by Tazo & MTS ... cuz we're weird like that.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: "Ah Christ, what did I do last night?" Comfort fluff. PipxSeras
A/N: "Tazo?" "Yes, mts?" "Write me smut, bitch." "I can't write you smut but I can write you fluff." …"Can I do the Seras POV?" "Sure...." …"We just co-authored a fluff fic." "…yeah." "We are officially weird." A quick note on cannon. Pip is a manga only character, however this fic refrences some anime only things, such as a non-manga vampire requirement and Seras' four poster coffin. If it helps, think of this as post-anime, where Hellsing is reinstated and the Wild Geese were hired to make up for their losses. It's our personal favorite cannon anyway.

Darkness, darkness, hide the yearning for the things that cannot be
Keep my mind from constant turning towards the things I cannot see

-Darkness, Darkness by Solas


PIPxSERAS - tazo

Pip started slightly as he woke up. The headache pounding through his skull advised him to keep his eye closed. Pip was never one to argue this early in the morning... or night... or whenever it was.

As he started to take stock of the aches and pains his body had received from whatever it was he had done the night before, suddenly he realized that he was holding someone.

Ah Christ, what did I do last night?

Pip sighed and wondered who he was cuddling. He was pretty sure it was female, at least. The amount of alcohol it would require him to drink to wake up cuddling with one of the Wild Geese would've left him with a much worse hangover. And as for Alucard or Walter, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world.

Therefore, it was female. Having firmly established that fact, Pip set about trying to figure out which female it was. The first possibility was that it was one of the Hellsing manor maids. This was unlikely following the incident with Mary and Sergeant Jackson. Pip hadn't even seen a maid since then, much less had a chance to drink with one.

That left two possibilities. Both of which meant that Pip was a dead man. The first possibility was that he was lying next to Seras Victoria, which would prove what Alucard had said about young vampires still being affected by alcohol. Apparently some poisons could affect the very young undead when taken in large enough amounts.

The final possibility was that by some act of God, the Boss had actually had too much drink and was now lying next to him. This was, by far, the scariest possibility of all. If it was Seras, she'd be righteously pissed when she woke up, but he might be able to escape with a broken arm if he moved fast enough. If he had slept with the boss, well... Walter would probably push him to the brink of death, then Alucard would turn him into a vampire, just so he could kill Pip again in what would most likely be the most painful way possible.

Pip sighed. There was pretty much only one way to find out. He gritted his teeth and opened his eye. He was extremely surprised to find that he still couldn't see anything. Pip reached his free hand up and brushed his fingers against the hard wood surface about a foot above his face.

He was in a coffin.

Which meant that he was lying next to Seras.

Which meant, he supposed, that vampires could get drunk.

Pip idly wondered if the two of them having drunken sex, assuming they had sex, violated any date rape laws. After all, according to some statues, neither of them would've been legally capable of giving consent.

As he searched for the remote that would raise the ceiling of Seras' four-poster coffin, he decided that Seras would probably know, but it was probably best not to ask her. Better instead to find the remote and before she woke up. Even if she didn't figure it out immediately, Pip was sure that not only did Alucard know, he would tell Seras just so he could watch her chase the Frenchman around.

He tried to slide his arm out from underneath her to aid in his search, but she whimpered. Her right hand, resting on his thigh, started to clutch it tighter.

Didn't expect that...

Seras didn't usually show vulnerability to Pip. In all of the times he had fought side by side with her, she had put on a brave face. He was sure Alucard could get the weaker side out of her, but it was definitely not something she liked to show to him.

He tried to remember what the file on her had said. Orphaned at a fairly young age. Her mother had died when she was very small, her father following his wife later, leaving their daughter all alone. Joined the police force, later being transferred to a D11 Special Ops team. And at Cheddar... her entire team died, and she was left all alone again.

Pip realized that the poor girl was still alone, even after being rescued by Alucard. Surrounded by soldiers who resented her for what she was; a cold, aloof boss; a Master who was, at best, mockingly caring; and a butler who, while friendly, was separated by a large generational gap.

Pip sighed. He ceased his search for the remote and pulled the vampire closer to him. Sure, she'd probably kill him when she woke up, but it wasn't like he could leave without waking her up. And it'd be a really asinine thing to just leave her like this. Nah, for now, he'd make sure she wasn't alone, if for only a little while.

Plus, she was really nice to hold.


SERASxPIP - mts

She's so used to the screaming that Seras would wake up from her nightmares without a gasp or tear. Unlike the first few months. And vampire tears are not the kindest things to crisp cotton sheets.

Her eyes, slowly opening, met the comfort of darkness but there was something unusual, something human against her side and the distinct smell of Mint Royale and type AB blood. The universal receiver. Type AB could receive any of the other three blood types but can only donate to those with the same blood type. Seras, of course, was type AB. It was an extraordinarily rare blood type, and a lucky, selfish one. She knew only two others with that type. The first was undead and couldn't possibly dream of sharing a coffin with her. The other was that damned one-eyed, long-haired Frenchman who couldn't carry a tune – much less a good clean decent one.

If it truly was Captain Pip Bernadette's naked thigh that her hand was resting on, then they had officially proven last night that a young vampire can #1-drink a Frenchman under the table and #2-get drunk herself.

Seras quickly wondered about how much booze that must have taken and if it was Hellsing booze and if Walter would kill them for greatly diminishing their supply.

That thought completely evaporated as the smell of his blood intensified. His hand, so nice against her stomach, had lifted into the hair. She could see him search carefully for the remote – oh what an idiot. Get her drunk, sex her up and leave in the morning. Expecting her to kill him once, uh, if she found him. Just like a man.

But then – it was probably her who got him drunk, sexed him up and expected a morning cuddle. Just like a woman, I guess, she thought with a sly smile and couldn't quite figure out why she didn't want to kill him. If only because it would be expected of her. She could almost hear her master's mocking laugh...

He shifted and she couldn't help the quiet sigh escape her throat as she snuggled deeper into his human warmth (she could barely sense the heat, but she was a young undead) and clutched his thigh gently. Her coffin was normally comfortable, but there was nothing like the soft pliancy of a body – and his, an unmistakable live body – against you. Everything kinda disappeared into that sensation, it was more satisfying than blood or a genuine smile from Alucard or word of praise from Sir Hellsing...

Perhaps it was the intoxicating smell of type AB that made him a bit irresistible. Especially when they fought, his eyes narrowing and his face flushing pink. Her hunger for the taste made her a little crazy at times, thoroughly confused at what it was she wanted.

Integra had warned her never to drink those who worked for her. Alucard had warned her never to let the hunger drive you, you must drive it. Walter had warned her that Pip only wanted the idea of Seras, not the actual (undead) person that she had become.

So, she had resorted to drinking as a last resort? To find out what he tasted like when she licked his lower lip before kissing it? She wondered if he tasted like shrapnel and C4. She wondered if he was regretting it now, quiet in the edge of silence. She wondered if she should begin the slow steady migration to an all-consuming, horrified regret. She could worry about the fact that she broke that deliciously building tension that seemed to offer endless possibilities behind the narrowed eyes, raised voices and snarky remarks – but, the smell was too sweet – she sighed again – and why worry now when the moment would be gone in such a short time.

Plus, it was nice not to feel alone.

His hand rested again on her stomach. She snaked her left hand up to rest on top of it, a mild squeeze and release. He tensed and she made a slow shushing noise. He relaxed and she could hear his smile.

Her eyes closed. This wasn't completely right, but it was close enough.

A chilled blood pack (type AB, of course) and a carafe of coffee was left on the table with a gentle smile and distant eyes.