My first ever Hellsing fanfic, and possibly my last. Ahaha, I wrote this last year. It's awkward and embarrassing. This is why I never uploaded before. Whatever.

(You all know I own nothing. I don't know why I must explain.)

His eyes flew open. Was that…? Yes, it was. A whir of cloth and shadow, and he had disappeared. Up the stairs, through the door- the one into her room. Muted sniffles. She was trembling violently under thin covers. Not because of cold; she was crying. There was a long pause until he finally spoke. Or, tried to. A choking sound came out instead. What could he say? Silence. Then, "Go away. I d-don't want you of all p-people in here… not now."

He took a step forward.

"G-go away…" Her sobs grew slightly louder. Another step. "I-I can't just k-keep…" She choked and sat up slowly to face him. Light blue pajamas. Loose. The shirt not buttoned all the way up. And got up. Moved towards him.

Her tears were salty. He could not retaliate. Her hair brushed his cheek. "Tell me," she said thickly. "Can you love?" And leaned in. Lips clashed.

He sat upright, and hit his head on the lid of his coffin. "Shit."

It was just a dream. A sigh of relief, and he emerges. It was still dark out. A loud voice from upstairs. "I'm coming," he called. Up, right, straight ahead. Another right. Open the door, into the dim room, fire crackling comfortably. He looked up. Damn. Hair done up elegantly. And where were her pants? Grey pencil skirt, reaching just the tops of her knees. Matte black pumps on her feet. Legs crossed politely. Nice legs, why hadn't he ever noticed before…? An impatient cough. Oh right. "Yes?" he said, with a sardonic smile. She never looked up, shuffled around in the things on her desk. "It took you long enough." She uncrossed her legs and rose in one fluid motion, and emerged from around her desk.

"What is it?"

She crossed over to the door. Her hip brushed him as she passed. …She did not just—Click. The door closed and locked. She turned to him. "Sit," she motioned him to a plush green armchair by the fire. She sat in the matching chair facing him, and immediately launched into an interesting account of some going-ons going on west of here… Or east. One of them. Maybe she said south… He wasn't paying attention. Pay attention, he chided himself. This is important.

Not now. He was admiring her ankles. They were nice ankles… She got up, and he snapped back to attention. She continued talking, pacing the room. Something about traitors and urns. Her ankles looked particularly nice in those heels. His gaze slid up and down the exposed portion of leg. Up, up and up. Back down again, his gaze fixed on her feet. Coming closer to him. He looked up into her stern face. "What?" she said. "You don't like the shoes?"

"Well they I don't there is-" What to say? Well, did it matter anymore? One hand on each armrest. Face went towards him. Waist dipped. The position was awkward, but it would adjust, her knees bent, one on either side of him, rested on his lap. One arm moved up, onto his shoulder, his neck, the other one followed it and gripped the top of the armchair. His hand automatically moved around her waist, and she arched into him. Nails dug into his neck, her teeth bit into his bottom lip. God, she's violent. Then nothing. Just darkness. He tried to open his eyes.

He blinked a few times. Moved his arms. A dream within a dream? This was getting ridiculous. He sighed and rose. The sun was uncommonly bright. His stomach growled. He sniffed and set off to find his breakfast. Which is how he came to find her lying unconscious in the hall.

He gathered her up and carried her to her room. Set her in bed, covered her up. Drew the drapes. He was about to leave when he heard a groan. Weak eyes looking at him. "Come back." Just a whisper. He couldn't disobey.

"What happened?"

"I-I don't know. I was walking and then…" and trailed off, looking up at him through lidded eyes. A long pause. "Sit." He sat down by her, and looked at her, concerned. "I'm kind of tired," she said after another pause. "Sleep. It's fine." "I can't…" Her arm slid towards him slowly and she touched his sleeve, pinching it gently with her fingers. Slid up around his thigh. Around his waist, and clumsily pulled him over. "What-" Up and looped behind his neck and pulled him down. Her lips tasted like grapes. His arms splayed to catch himself. One on either side of her. Her free hand clumsily started to undo his shirt. Then deftly flipped over, pinning him down. He was half tempted to push her away. But he couldn't… she was weak… she was—or was it just an act? Maybe she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security so she could… Well, if he had to go, he might as well go happy.

Her hands slid up his bare chest, around his shoulders, down his arms. He began to unbutton her shirt, slowly, uncertainly. Started from the bottom. Meanwhile, she had moved down to fumble at his pants. Her hands were still weak. Her hair across his shoulder, her breath on her ear, whispering his name. A thick fog settled over the scene. And he could see nothing else.

But her voice didn't stop. He opened his eyes to find her glowering over him. "You sleep like a rock," and lightly kicked him. "I've been calling you forev-" Her eyes slid from his face down to his crotch, trying to hide mixed emotions. "That had better not be what I think it is."

He grinned and stretched luxuriously, and crossed his hands behind his head. Still smiling, "I don't know. Would you like to find out?"

Her mouth twisted. Withdrew a gun and aimed it as his face.

BANG

BANG BANG

As he regenerated, he could hear her storming away and raging. "The bloody…. Who the hell does he…. I swear if he….. near me again…… empty a gun into his groin…… give up….."

Well at least it was assured that this was real. A smile on his face, and he closed his coffin again.

Go back to sleep, go back to sleep, go back to sleep…

Ahaha, that's random.

I know people hate it when it's brought up. I want reviews though. They make me feel validated. Pleasee:C