Gentle

Chapter 11

Prompt: Holding hands under the table

A/N: Ahhh, feels good to be writing for Hotel T again😌 Figured I'd post an update to this fic for Friday the 13th/Spooky month (an occurrence that's not going to happen at the same time for another 6 years!)

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It was a little strange for Dracula.

The whole "party" aspect of everything was nothing new to him. Okay, really nothing new to him. Throughout Hotel Transylvania's original run, there were plenty of parties and festivities and such that took place there. Too many to keep count of. From birthdays, to weddings, and anything else in between that was able to include balloons, confetti, music, and a ton of friends and family to have fun with. So no, being at a party was not what came off as strange to him, but rather, the fact that while this hotel was still Hotel Transylvania, it was not his Hotel Transylvania.

It felt unreal to come into the ballroom and see the banner hanging up above the stage that read "Happy 1-Year Anniversary!" He could scrunch his nose at that. The hotel would technically be at its 126th anniversary date, give or take, with the "give or take" being the 1-year gap of time that it had taken to undergo its renovations.

And its ownership transfer.

It almost pained Drac to know that this beautiful hotel was no longer one that he could call his own. Though, he couldn't be upset at how the events had undergone those couple years back. While he had given the hotel key to Mavis and Johnny back when they'd first arrived home from the wild Amazonian trip, it had not been officially stated in writing that they were the owners of the new Hotel Transylvania until about a week after that. It was the end, for him, but the beginning for them, all wrapped up in a bittersweet memory.

So yes, while Hotel Transylvania – the hotel and its name – had been around for well over a century, this version of it was only celebrating its first birthday. Dracula could remember how surprised he had been when first setting foot inside, the outside of the hotel and its identical look having been deceiving to the eye. Now, though, he barely batted an eye at the scooters that zoomed past in the lobby and throughout the corridors, the rock-climbing wall that guests scaled at the far end, and the health spa/juice bar that had been installed for the guests to kick back and unwind with things like jacuzzis, hot tubs, and saunas.

But, Dracula being Dracula, he had some difficulty coming to terms with everything and adjusting. He smiled on the outside, because, yes, of course he was incredibly proud of his daughter and his son-in-law for creating such a wonderful place and making it all their own, with its unique style and flare. On the inside, though, he was squirming a little bit. It seemed like anywhere he looked, something was different, and the lack of familiarity had made him a teensy bit more unnerved each time. By the time that morning arrived and he was preparing to retire for the night, he almost felt like his head was in a whirl, faint from everything that he was trying to get his brain to process.

Thankfully, he did not have to undergo the grand change by himself.

Dracula softly squeezed the delicate hand of his wife that he was holding from under the table, and she turned, facing him with a smile. Ericka Van Helsing (or rather, Ericka Van Dracula , as she had become upon their marriage after the cruise) had been baffled by the changes, too. He recalled that very moment when they had entered the suite of the new Hotel Transylvania, and she'd collapsed upon the coffin-shaped bed.

"I don't know about you," she'd said, releasing a breath, "but that sure was a lot!"

Dracula had raised an eyebrow at her. "You think so?"