Curse these breasts! Of all the things Alucard thought to say in his time on Earth, this was far, far down on the list. He found that they impeded nearly everything he tried to do—dressing, eating, sleeping, even just finding a comfortable spot on the spongy mattress of his Police Girl's coffin. He snarled his anger at them and was about to shout in frustration when he heard timid knocking at the door.

Crawling out of the coffin, he stomped to the door in his bare feet, tripping once or twice on the stone. He couldn't get the hang of the vampiress's shorter stride, so different from his normal way of walking. He finally made it to the door without falling flat on his face and swung it open; schooling his face into the neutral expression he hoped looked like a sleepy Draculina. It immediately dissolved into annoyance when he saw his body standing there, a bashful grimace on its face.

"Ah, erm…" Seras began, wringing her hands and looking away. He started as color flooded his cheeks in a blush. "How-how are you getting along?" She twisted her leg and laughed awkwardly, leaning on the edge of the doorframe.

"What do you want, Police Girl?!" he hissed. "I'm trying to sleep!"

"Oh, are you?" she asked needlessly. He glared up at her.

"Have I not donned the customary sleeping garments you modern people seem to be unable to live without?" She frowned down at him, a strange expression for him to see. It didn't happen often that he came in contact with someone taller than himself.

"What? You don't have any pajamas?" she asked incredulously. "What do you sleep in?"

"I sleep in my coffin," he snapped. "I don't need attire." She shuddered visibly, cheeks turning redder. The color was an uncanny match to his long coat.

"Oh my," she whispered, seemingly to herself. He poked her in the ribs and she doubled, wincing.

"What do you want?" he repeated, losing every bit of patience he had. It had been a trying night, and he was ready to get some sleep. She cleared her throat, looking over his head with a sense of helplessness.

"I… I have to go to the bathroom," she admitted in a small voice. He blinked at her uncomprehendingly.

"I have a private lavatory, same as you," he told her bluntly. She shook her head and ducked until the red cheeks were hidden in shadow.

"I can't use it….because, uhm…" she paused, looking away. "I can't go because men don't sit." He stared at her another moment, this time understanding her, but dumbfounded that such a simple reason was preventing her from going to do her bodily function.

"Police Girl," he growled, unable to keep a level tone with her. "Even the most naïve virgin could not be more innocent than you," he declared. "Just do what you have to do." She twisted again, crossing her legs and shaking her head, lips tight.

"I can't!" she half-whined. "I am not touching your you-know-whats! That's just… it's wrong, Alucard!" she blurted, gazing at him imploringly.

"What do you want me to do about it?!" he barked. Her voice echoed down the hall and he cringed, continuing in a more hushed tone. "I can't visit the lavatory for you." She groaned.

"Look, I've never been a boy before. Just tell me what my other options are!" she pleaded. He rolled his eyes.

"Go outside," he answered, pushing her out of the doorframe and slamming the door.

"Alucard!" she yelped, her voice muffled by the metal.

"Good day, Police Girl!" he called back, going back to her coffin and trying to lay flat on his stomach. He nearly suffocated, feeling as though his ribs were being pushed through his back. Flopping onto his back, he scowled at the coffin lid.

It's going to be a long day.

I can't believe it's come to this.

She knew that Alucard was being an impatient dyke, and his command to go outside was no more doable than him being able to use the bathroom for her. He was probably having his own issues, she surmised. After all, he didn't want to be in her body any more than she wanted to be in his.

But that didn't mean he could just leave her hanging! After all, he'd been a girl before, long ago. Walter had told her stories. But she had never been anything other than a woman. Not a boy and most definitely not a man! There were clear differences!

She wrenched the two faucets of the shower, and made a sound of disgust as rusty water poured out. "What the hell?" she muttered. "Doesn't he bathe?!" Thinking back, she remembered that whenever he got dirty in battle, his shadows wiped him clean. She shivered, thinking back to how many years he could have went without a bath using that technique.

"Well, no matter. While I'm in his body, he's going to feel and smell clean," she announced to the air, watching until the stream of water stopped sputtering and the red-tinged color faded away to clear water. She licked her lips and began to undress, throwing the clothes on the dusty tile. She paused at the gloves before sliding them off with an air of surprise. Oh, so they are removable.

The gloves came off easily enough, and she threw them on the dingy counterpane before gazing at his bare hands. The seals were burned into the back of his palms; ugly, raised, blackened scars. She frowned, touching the edges gingerly with the pads of her fingers. "These look like they hurt pretty badly," she said to herself. She felt a twinge of pity for the man stuck in her body; there were still a lot of things that he had never told her about his past, and while she made an effort not to pry sometimes moments like these were inevitable.

She tested the water until it met her satisfaction, and then pulled off her pants with the disassociated air of a nursemaid, her eyes firmly set on the tile of the shower wall. She managed to remove them and his underwear without looking down once, and threw them behind her on the growing pile.

She bit her lip, her eyes flitting towards the floor before coming back almost immediately. It was incredibly tempting to just glance down, but it didn't feel right to look. After all, this was not her body and she owed it to Alucard to give him as much privacy as she could, even under these strange circumstances. She could only hope he'd given her the same in return, even if he had managed to change into her pajamas.

She stepped into the shower and shut the glass door, standing under the spray. She didn't want to have to do this, but she felt as though she had no other choice. "After all," she told herself quietly, "I can always scrub his shower down later. He might not use it, but for all its purposes I'm not going to leave it like this." She gulped and purposefully looked up; closing her eyes as she grit her teeth and voided her bladder.

She finished and sighed, feeling a thousand times better. Man or woman, holding it for long periods of time just wasn't comfortable. She looked around for shampoo, and found nothing. She had a bar of soap she'd managed to find underneath the sink, but there was no shampoo! Sighing, she ran her hands through the hair and scratched the scalp with her nails, working as much water into it as she could. "I'll have to remember to get shampoo tomorrow."

Eventually, she decided that she could do no more with his hair, and grabbed the bar of soap. Lathering it in her hands, she made quick work of washing her face and turned to the water to clean it, scrubbing with her palms. Shaking her head, she took a breath and grabbed the soap once more, beginning at the neck and working her way down.

Oh… wow, talk about muscles, she thought absently as she lathered up arms and chest alike. Even if she was in a man's body, she still had a female's mind, and she couldn't help but notice how detailed he was. There's not a spare inch of body fat on him. Incredible, she sighed, before flushing bright red again. She shouldn't be thinking about this! What was she, some type of pervert?!

She stood under the spray a minute, letting the soap run down her legs. After a moment, she cautiously raised one foot out in front of her, gaging the cleanliness of the limb. Did she really want to risk lathering up his legs, too? After all, that meant bending down and she had already used every ounce of her tact. Maybe once she dressed, she could find some finger nail clippers, and a file. He looked in dire need of a pedicure.

She raised the leg higher, trying to peer in the dim light of the shower. Water and soap slid under her foot, and she was still not entirely balanced in the man's slim body. She slipped with a shriek, slamming into the side of the shower. Trying to catch her balance, she grabbed for the wall and her fingers slipped on the slick tiles. She landed on her back, head cracking as it hit the floor. She saw stars, her vision fading to black for a moment. She floundered, water falling into her mouth as she scrabbled to get off her back.

"Ow, ow, ow!" she whimpered, managing to sit up. She sat in the water, clutching the back of her head and gritting her teeth. That hurt! She drew her knees to her chest, gingerly prodding the sore spot and feeling through the hair. It was hard to tell if there was blood, since she was already wet.

"Oh, this just isn't fair!" she whispered fiercely to herself, wrapping her new, way-too-long arms around her knees and sighing. It wasn't fair. She didn't ask for this! Now she couldn't even take a damn shower without falling down and breaking her head open like a melon. And to top it off, she didn't even get Alucard's amazing healing prowess—she had to make do with her own measly powers.

Sniffing, she turned off the water and stood up shakily, getting out of the shower stall and rubbing her face. She was tired, and sore, and now her head hurt. Not to mention Alucard wasn't being much help. He was probably going to get along much better in her body. He always managed to do things better than she could.

"I hate this. I hate this!" she muttered, brushing wet, lanky strands of black hair out of her eyes. She hated his stupid body, hated that her voice was all deep and resonating now, and she hated that his body was not the perfect place for a pity-party after all.

She looked his reflection in the mirror, sopping wet and teary-eyed with a sad frown on his face. She wanted to punch it. As she kept staring at it, the fact that the real Alucard would never look like that, coupled with the borderline-hilarious expression itself, made her start to smile despite herself. She shook her head, feeling her emotions bubbling inside her body like a forceful brew.

"What the hell is up with me?" she half-laughed. "I feel like I have PMS or something." She grabbed her towel and started forcefully rubbing her hair, trying to get it dry. Without shampoo, it was a different texture than usual, but she didn't mind so much. She rubbed her body, looking towards the ceiling as she hoisted her legs up (this time with her back against the wall; she wasn't falling again).

Finally she wrapped the towel around her waist and crept into the main room, casting glances to make sure no one was in the room. It was a habit, something she did every night getting out of the shower and walking into her bedroom. Of course, no one would dare enter Alucard's room uninvited, and it was as empty as ever. The dusty swirls of dawn shining through the high windows and on the gray walls gave it a rather lonely look.

Halfway across the room, she remembered his earlier words. I sleep in my coffin. Oh, that's right; he didn't own pajamas. That's why she couldn't find any before. She frowned, scratching her drying hair and thinking. She didn't want to sleep in a towel. Finally she decided to just put on the pants she'd been wearing before. She could sleep without a shirt.

She turned and went back to the bathroom, re-donning the necessary garments with the same nursemaid air. She padded back to the chair and sat down, smacking her hands on her knees in a pattern. She knew that Alucard usually slept in his chair—should she do it do, just in case someone came in? Or should she go to the coffin?

She looked over her around the edge of the chair at the coffin. She would feel better there, but would that send a red flag to Sir Integra should she venture down to the basement? No, sleeping the way Alucard usually slept would be best. She bit her lip, leaning on her elbow on the side of the chair. She twisted, trying to get comfortable. She used her arms as a pillow, smushed down against the arm of the chair.

Oh, it's going to be a long day.

Alucard stared down at his body, an incredulous look plastered across his face. He never thought he'd have been able to get into such a position. His body was curled up in the chair like a small dog, head twisted nearly ninety degrees, cheek rested against the back of the chair while his bare feet dangled off one of the arms.

The contorted position didn't help her dreams, either—or so it seemed. He leaned in, brushing his bangs back to see the almost-panicked look on his face. Was she having a nightmare? She jerked away from his touch unconsciously, and he heard a soft cry from his throat, almost a whimper or a muffled sob. He frowned; he wanted to leave, but the reason he came down here in the first place was pressing on his psyche like a dead weight.

He prodded her, finger pushing on her sternum. She jerked away again, and he grabbed both shoulders and began to shake her insistently.

"Police Girl… Police Girl! Seras!" he muttered in her ear, one ear listening for the telltale footsteps of his master on the hallway stairs. "Wake up!" Her eyes flew open and he ducked as she threw a punch right where his head had been, screaming bloody murder. He growled crossly as she flung herself away from him, looking around with wide, frightened eyes.

She focused on him, taking a ragged breath and then her eyes became pained as she grabbed the back of her neck, wincing. Her shoulders slumped and she let out a heavier breath, tears coming to her eyes. He knew what that look meant too well—the relief that came with understanding that you were safe, that the horrors you saw in your dreams were not with you in the waking hours.

"Police Girl!" he snarled, and she shuddered, shaking her head and rubbing her hands across her face and hair.

"I—I dreamed some crazy guy was gonna kill me," she told him breathlessly. "Some weirdo… dressed like—" She paused, thinking back to her dream. "Dressed like you," she finished slowly.

"A small blonde in a police uniform was trying to kill you?" he replied dryly, arching one brow. "Hardly nightmare material." She blinked at him for a moment before chuckling nervously, wiping her eyes. He shook his head, keeping his concerns to himself. Was she seeing his memory? How? She was still Seras, even in another's body. A side-effect of the awry spell, perhaps? Well, it couldn't be helped now.

"Come, Seras. My master calls me, and you have to go up there." She stared uncomprehendingly at him.

"H-how do you know?" she asked, still clearly sleepy.

"The same way I always know!" he snapped, grabbing her wrists and focusing his powers on his body. He dressed her, fixing her up and making her look the way he did each night. It was done with before she could protest, and she took off the glasses for a moment, staring at them before putting them back on carefully. "Now go up there!"

"O-okay," she said doubtfully, standing and managing to stay upright without wobbling this time. He grabbed the back of her coat as she moved to the door.

"You're not going to go running through the halls like a fool!" he ordered, voice cold like ice. "You'll do as I do and phase up there." She turned, cringing. She tried and failed, her body only going fuzzy before she let out a frustrated breath.

"I'm nervous!" she protested when he bared his teeth in sheer annoyance at her incompetence. "Come on, boost me a bit." He shook his head, but his master's call won out and he moved close, grabbing his body's waist and pushing it into a black void, Sir Integra's study in mind.

He hoped she could hold up a conversation with the woman. They had worked together for decades, barring his "thirty-year-holiday", as Seras called it. Surely she knew him enough to answer the heiress's questions in a proper manner. Didn't she? He thought to his pre-bedtime routine. He hadn't known much about her after all, other than what he'd noted from waking her up. Perhaps they didn't know much about each other after all.

He sat in his chair, feet dangling, one hand on his chin. If they were to last a week, they'd have to learn more about each other's mannerisms than what they knew from missions alone. He thought as he waited for the assignment that was undoubtedly waiting for them both.

It seemed like a few lessons were in order.

Afterword: Hello, everyone! If you've seen my Tumblr account, you know that I had gallbladder surgery last week. All is well, and I am now trying to finish up a few things I'd been working on. Hopefully, I'll be posting more stuff soon! Until then, have this!