Chapter Text
It was amazing how fast one got used to something. The human spirit is an unbreakable thing, even in death, it seems.
Daniel quickly learned the whole vampire business. Hunting, heightened senses—he seemed to be taking it very well. That’s what the others had told him: that he was a natural, a prodigy even! Okay, maybe only Louis had told him that, but that’s all that mattered. After all, for the first six months of his unlife, he was completely on his own.
His maker had left him to fend for himself, it seemed. Whether it was from anger over Daniel’s role in ruining his 77-year relationship, or his discovery of their own romance in the 70s and 80s, was hard to say. But then again, when was anything with Armand ever easy?
Oh, at first, he had been angry. It was like getting divorced all over again. The bond between maker and fledgling was so wholly unique that even marriage wasn’t an adequate description. It simply transcended any closeness Daniel had ever felt with anyone during his lifetime.
Then, almost six months to the day, he just showed up at Daniel’s doorstep in New York. Armand looked horrible and cited various excuses when Daniel demanded an explanation. You take one step forward, and he takes two steps back. This was the game they’d been playing ever since.
After what seemed like weeks of back and forth, his maker finally revealed his reasons: all fledglings eventually hate their makers, and he simply didn’t want to be there when it happened.
A bit rude to make this decision on his own, denying Daniel his agency. Daniel had told him as much when they finally reunited. Okay, he’d been meaner than that—a lot meaner. But he couldn’t resist the pull toward his maker, like a moth to a flame.
And so life went on. Daniel was busy with his documentary and was still booked for various signings. Armand did whatever multimillionaires do when they go through a crisis: he bought lots of useless junk. He spent a horrendous amount of money to make Daniel’s apartment sunproof—using the same materials they’d used in Dubai. And it seemed like every other week he had a new project to occupy his mind.
“Beloved, we should really get a new kitchen,” he said one night while they lounged on the couch, watching Blade Runner for the 50th time.
“For what? We don’t use it. My kitchen is fine,” Daniel mumbled. He knew routine and having something to work toward were important to Armand, but it seemed like things were slowly spiraling out of control. Armand had called his apartment antiquated the first time he saw it again. Pretty rich coming from a guy who still used the term "electronic mailbox" in the 21st century.
Of course, eventually, the gremlin got his wish. Daniel could never say no to those doe eyes, no matter how hard he denied it. And so he hired the best architects, or whoever Armand wanted to hire. This was his business. Daniel simply gave his blessing. The renovations were almost finished, but for the time being, they moved to a different place, an equally pompous apartment.
This one had a massive bathtub, and Daniel planned to use it at least once with his lover before they had to leave. It hadn’t occurred to him before that they’d never done this together. Armand hadn’t talked about wanting to take a bath together, but then again, he rarely talked about anything he wanted without prompting.
So Daniel took it into his own hands. He’d been married twice, after all—he knew how to woo a lover. Armand would be out hunting that day, giving him more than enough time to prepare. Daniel decided to go all out, scattering rose petals, lighting candles, and the like. He thought imposing declarations of love like this were rather embarrassing, but he knew Armand loved it. He tried to deny it, but Daniel saw how his eyes lit up every time they watched some cheesy romance scene. It didn’t surprise him that big gestures of affection appealed to his maker. Armand came from a time when courting was a socially accepted and respected custom.
Daniel didn’t know what scent his lover would prefer, but lavender seemed like a safe bet. He carefully dispensed the solution into the tub, watching the foam froth and come to life under the steady stream of hot water. Once it was completely full, he tested the temperature and then sank into the bath, letting out a satisfied groan. Now it was just a matter of waiting for Armand to come home.
In Daniel’s opinion, one of the best changes about becoming a vampire was the sex. He felt like a horny teenager again—or maybe just elated to get and maintain an erection at all. The first few weeks after they got back together, the couple went at it like rabbits. Daniel felt 50 years younger, though the dark gift hadn’t rid him of his self-doubts or wavering self-image. He just couldn’t understand how his maker could be attracted to him in this body.
The first time he brought this up, Armand had just stared at him, tilting his head in that strangely owl-like way. The question was absurd to the older vampire. He was attracted to Daniel because he was Daniel, no matter how he looked. That he’d brought it up at all was absurd to Armand, though it was anything but to his fledgling.
After this debate had been (mostly) settled, things went smoothly again. Daniel already had plans on how to properly celebrate their new kitchen. He would gladly bend Armand over the smooth marble counter, taking him right then and there. Or, if that’s what his lover preferred, he would gladly volunteer to bend over himself.
The world was his oyster now that he didn’t have to worry about aching bones and muscles and all the other physical ailments that came with age. Daniel himself was pretty open to most things and willing to try even more if that’s what his lover wanted. Armand still hadn’t told him much about his time before coming to Paris, but from what he gathered, it was extremely traumatic, though Armand downplayed it. Daniel’s own research into Marius de Romanus for his book release wasn’t much more fruitful. The man seemed an enigma. The only consolation was that the fucker was dead.
A small, nagging part of his brain insisted it wasn’t true. It was too easy. When was anything ever that easy? When had evil ever been punished accordingly? He lacked evidence to prove his gut feeling, this journalistic instinct he liked to call it. His first wife had called it simple cynicism, and his second wife labeled it pessimism.
Daniel was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of the door opening. He could hear the rhythmic clink-clink of the keys being put in their place, followed by the removal of shoes and soft footsteps making their way to the living room.
“Beloved? Why is the floor so dirty?”
Great. So much for carefully strewing flower petals around. Maybe romance really was dead after all.
“Hey, babe, I’m in the bathroom. Can you come here for a second?”
He received no reply, but soon after, Armand appeared in the doorway, his big orange eyes gazing at him. Daniel propped himself up on his elbows.
“I did this for you. The flowers. It’s supposed to be romantic.”
“Oh. I see.”
“I thought maybe we could make use of this huge bathtub before we have to leave this place. Would you like to take a bath with me?”
There was something in Armand’s expression for just a fraction of a second. The gesture was so quick he would’ve missed it completely as a human.
But even with his preternatural ability to pick up on minute changes in expression, it was over before he could decipher it. Armand steeled his face into his usual mask of indifference, the one he wore when he wasn’t sure what was expected of him—which seemed to be most social interactions.
“Look, you don’t have to join me. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
Daniel felt like he’d stepped on something. The raw nerve that was Armand’s past. Minor things could prove to be a huge trigger.
Daniel had interviewed victims of sex trafficking in the late 90s for a major exposé. He knew in theory how to act around severely traumatized individuals. But that didn’t make it easier when Armand had a flashback, or when he praised that ancient pedophile like he was some god walking the earth.
Meanwhile, Armand was wordlessly undressing, carefully unbuttoning his fine silk shirt.
“Armand,” Daniel called, trying to get his attention.
“Remember when we talked about agency? Specifically, you being allowed to say no when I suggest something?” he probed.
Armand nodded, avoiding eye contact. The black silk button-up hit the tiled bathroom floor.
“Baby, do you want this?”
His maker nodded; however, Daniel wasn’t having it. Armand knew verbal consent was important to him.
“Yes, I mean I…” Armand replied softly, scratching his neck.
“I don’t know,” his maker added after a slight pause. It sounded like a question.
By now, Daniel was well accustomed to these three words whenever he asked for Armand’s opinion. ‘I don’t know’ — so unsure, so perfectly Armand. So noncommittal.
“If you think this could be triggering for you, we can do something else,” Daniel tried to mediate. He felt like Armand was beginning to draw in on himself, and he didn’t like that one bit.
“I haven’t taken a bath with anyone else in a long, long time, but I’d like to try it again with you, beloved,” his maker said. That sounded like a plan Daniel could work with.
“Sounds good. Thank you for trusting me.”
“Always.”
The ancient vampire slowly began removing his remaining clothes. Beautiful gray wool slacks, followed by dark green boxers, were added to the clothing pile. Armand was a sight to behold. No matter how often he saw him naked, it was always just as awe-inspiring. It was something he could never get enough of.
Armand lowered himself into the tub on the opposite end, a soft sigh escaping his mouth as he hit the water.
“The smell is nice,” he noted, sinking deeper into the tub and making himself comfortable.
“Glad you like it. Lavender seemed like a safe bet when it comes to scents.” His lover hummed in acknowledgment. They fell into easy conversation after that. Armand told him about what he had been up to that night, how his hunt went, and so on, while Daniel updated him on the progress of the documentary and his schedule for the upcoming weeks.
“Want me to wash your hair?” Daniel asked after a while of sitting in comfortable silence. The other vampire scooted closer to him, turning his back and giving him an encouraging look.
Daniel grabbed the shampoo bottle from the ledge of the bathtub, spreading an adequate amount in his hand before starting to slowly massage his lover’s scalp. He moved in slow circles, and his maker all but melted into his touch.
You poor touch-starved thing, Daniel thought. He made extra sure to take his time as he muttered sweet nothings into Armand’s ear. The other gasped softly, squirming slightly when Daniel hit an especially good spot. Heat started to coil in his belly.
The soap wouldn’t sting if it got into his lover’s eyes, yet Daniel still made sure to shield them as he rinsed the shampoo from Armand’s hair.
“Want me to make you feel even better?” Daniel murmured, peppering kisses along his maker's slender neck. The other shivered in anticipation. It made his fangs itch.
“Lover,” he whined. So needy, always so needy.
“Was that a yes?” Daniel teased, nipping at the lush brown skin where the neck joined the shoulder. Not enough to bleed, but tantalizingly close enough.
“Yes,” Armand moaned, arching his back slightly.
“You’re so good for me, telling me what you want,” he growled, shamelessly groping his lover’s chest. He rubbed and twisted Armand’s nipples just how he liked it—a perfect symbiosis formed after many hours of intimacy.
His maker seemed especially into it today. He was usually a rather quiet bed partner, but now he gave Daniel all the sweet whimpers and moans he so desired.
Perhaps it was the novelty of doing something out of his own free will. The act, by now so alien, that it felt like the very first time all over again. Or maybe Armand was simply just very aroused today. Either way, Daniel loved him like this: already a panting and whimpering mess, and he hadn’t even touched him properly.
“Who knew all it took to get you so sweet was a tub of warm water? We should do this more often,” Daniel mused before reaching downwards and grabbing Armand’s cock. He was almost fully hard from so little attention. What a sweet thing. He gave it a good stroke, a strangled moan leaving Armand’s lips as he bucked into his Beloved's hand.
“I got you. I’ll give you what you need,” Daniel whispered into his maker's ear. He only got a small whine in response. Usually, he loved teasing Armand until he was a whining and begging mess, but he decided to be merciful today. After a few languid strokes, he set a quick pace, coaxing the sweetest sounds from his maker. His back was arched gracefully, and the water droplets clinging to his hair and skin made him look downright ethereal—a perfect picture that Daniel hoped to ingrain deep inside his immortal mind.
He wished he could covet this moment forever. Then, with a noise that could only be described as sinful, Armand came, writhing and shaking in Daniel's grasp. He whispered sweet nothings into his ear while stroking him through it—how good he was being, and how much he loved and appreciated him. Daniel’s own erection now pressed into his lover's flesh, desperately demanding attention.
Armand let out an almost boyish giggle, turning his head and forcing eye contact with his fledgling. Beautiful brown lashes fluttered before him in what seemed to be a practiced performance, played time and time again until by now, it was second nature.
“Maestro, me permetti di ricambiare il favore,” he said, silky smooth. Daniel gave him an amused chuckle.
“English, please. My Italian is not that good yet. I’m working on it.”
Daniel was decidedly not working on it. That stupid green owl be damned.
Armand blinked very slowly, as if utterly baffled as to why he would need to repeat himself. He turned around to face his lover and straightened his back, placing his hands neatly in his lap with a mischievous smile. It looked alien and bizarre on him.
“I was asking if you’d like me to return the favor, maître.”
“Yeah, no. We’re not doing that power shit. Absolutely not.”
“But maître, I—”
“Cut it out, Armand!” he hissed. It came out harsher than he wanted. This was not the first time his lover reverted to old habits, but this time he visibly flinched, his shoulders coming up to protect his neck as if he was expecting his fledgling to pounce on him any second.
He’s scared of me, Daniel realized, and his heart broke into a thousand pieces.
“Hey, it’s all good,” he placatingly raised his hands above the water,
“Sorry I scared you, Baby,” he tried to make his voice sound soft and safe. They could have a discussion about this later.
Armand tried to seem relaxed, to make his posture more open, but fear was still written all over him. Daniel got a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Do you know where you are right now?” he asked, backing away to give his maker space. He still kept his hands in the air so the other could see them.
“In your apartment,” Armand deadpanned, eyes fixed on Daniel.
Daniel only hummed in response. This was bad—really, really bad.
“Do you know who I am?”
“My padrone, of course. But you seem to want me to call you something different.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you own me. I belong to you and have to do everything you say,” he trailed off at the end, breaking the no-doubt, for him, uncomfortable amount of eye contact.
For fuck's sake. Daniel sighed, unsure how to react.
“Get out of the bath and wait for me in the living room, okay sweetheart?” His tone reminded him of how he used to speak to his daughters when they were small. Armand right now seemed just as precious as they had been, small and vulnerable in a way Daniel had never seen him before. Not even after shit hit the fan in Dubai. It scared him in a deep, primal way.
Armand gave no response, rising silently and beginning to dry himself off with a towel. He hesitated for a moment, turning back to face Daniel, then let the towel drop to the floor, presenting his nakedness to him. Daniel felt sick to his stomach.
“Wait in the living room,” he repeated, looking only at his lover’s face. It felt invasive to gaze at his body when he was clearly in some sort of dissociative fugue.
Armand swiftly left the room. Shortly after hearing the door close, Daniel’s hands began to shake violently. His body, no longer riddled with Parkinson’s, somehow still seemed to remember. He tried to calm his breathing. Keep your cool, Danny , he told himself. Panicking would get him nowhere now. He got out of the tub, pulled the plug, and quickly dried himself off, any heat and lust long forgotten.
“Louis, hey, Louis, are you there?” he called out telepathically.
Hello, Daniel. Good to hear from you! Is something wrong?” came the almost instant reply.
“I, uh… well, look,” he trailed off, feeling as if he were about to trespass on something forbidden, like stepping right into a war zone.
There was an unspoken agreement between him and Louis to avoid discussing his maker—a 'don’t ask, don’t tell' situation. He didn’t want to risk their newly rekindled friendship.
“Daniel, are you still there? Is everything alright?” Louis sounded very worried now.
“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s Armand… something’s wrong with him.”
“Many things are wrong with him, my friend.”
Even if his friend tried to, he couldn’t keep the malice from oozing into Daniel's brain.
“He started talking to me in Italian. I don’t think he knows where he is right now… or who I am. He’s scared of me, Louis!”
“It’s Venetian, a related but some claim a different language.”
God, he wished Louis could hear his eye roll.
“He thinks I’m his new owner.”
There was a pause, and for a moment he thought his friend had cut the connection and abandoned him.
“Oh… that means you’ve met Amadeo.”
“Excuse me?”
“Amadeo is the name that—” Louis began, but Daniel cut him off.
“The name that Roman Humbert Humbert gave him—I know!”
“Armand is a psychopathic gremlin, and Amadeo can be… difficult. He’s just a boy, though.” Louis’s voice softened, as if reminiscing on something unsaid between them.
“How old is he when he’s like this? He seems so…young.”
“He’s told me he’s 17. However, Amadeo seems emotionally stunted. I’d say he acts a couple of years younger.”
That explained Louis's fondness for the boy then. Claudia’s age, back in the good days when he could still play house with Lestat.
“How did you happen to meet him in the first place? Armand is very protective of him. I haven’t seen Amadeo in quite some time.”
Well, this was awkward.
“I, uh… Armand and I decided to have some fun in the bathtub, if you catch my drift.”
Why was he so embarrassed? Louis had shared hours of stories about his own escapades, but Daniel felt ashamed when it came to himself. How very human.
“Armand let you do that?” Louis shot back. A faint undertone of something unreachable filled the unspoken words. Jealousy? Daniel's mind raced with possibilities, though there wasn’t time to unpack that.
“So how long do these episodes last?”
When do I get Armand back? hung unsaid between the two vampires.
“Anywhere between a couple of hours to a few days. Amadeo has a temper but can be sweet too. You’ve raised two teenage daughters before, Daniel. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“Gee, thanks.”
He was about to cut the connection for good. Prolonged use of telepathy made him tired, and he’d need his strength for the rest of the night.
“Daniel?” Louis called.
“Yes?”
“Tell him I’m sorry. Whatever happened between me and Armand has nothing to do with him. He’s just a kid.”
“Will do. Don’t worry,” he replied before shielding his mind for good.
Daniel got dressed. The thought that he might have touched a teenager made him want to vomit. There was no way to be sure until Armand came back from wherever he was now. He braced himself, took a deep breath, and left the bathroom.
Armand... no Amadeo sat on the sofa in the living room, mindlessly stimming by rocking back and forth. He had his knees pulled to his chest and an empty look in his eyes. Daniel wasn’t even sure the boy noticed him. He was still naked, his clothes neatly folded at his feet as if waiting for permission to dress.
“Amadeo?” Daniel called. The boy jerked his head up before looking away, as if caught doing something wrong.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to pretend. Louis told me all about you,” he said gently, using the same tone he’d once used with his daughters.
At the mention of Louis, the vampire perked up, wanting to say something before scrunching his face in frustration when Daniel didn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, the mind gift won’t work on me. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. My name is Daniel—or you can call me Danny if you like. I am a friend of Louis'”
Amadeo nodded, looking away.
“How about you get dressed, and then we can...watch a movie, or something?” Daniel suggested. He got a half-hearted shrug in response. Good to know the universal teenage ‘I don’t give a shit’ gesture hadn’t changed in the last 500 years.
He went to the bedroom to retrieve Armand’s weighted blanket. Moving in with his maker had meant reading up on autism and how to accommodate a loved one with it. Pressure worked well for Armand, so he hoped it would for Amadeo too. When he returned, the boy was dressed, fussing with his shirt hem.
“Here. Thought you might want something to cover up with,” he said, tossing the blanket over. Daniel sat at a moderate distance, switching on the TV and flipping through channels.
Amadeo wrapped himself in the blanket, seemingly delighted by it’s softness. Daniel couldn’t help but smile. The boy seemed so human.
They settled on a documentary about an ancient cathedral in Siena, Italy. Amadeo was enraptured by the Romanesque architecture and art inside. Perhaps the old and familiar comforted him. The church was there even before he himself was made a vampire.
“Did your maker ever take you around Italy, Amadeo?”
He asked why exactly? To build a rapport? He was basically on babysitting duty right now. Daniel did not expect an answer and almost flinched when he heard the boy speak.
“No, I never left Venice. Maestro claimed it was all I ever needed to see,” he replied softly but with conviction.
“Seems rather boring. Marius had the money, didn’t he?”
Amadeo shrugged, and Daniel decided not to pry any further—not yet.
They sat in silence, with Amadeo’s eyes glued to the screen, muttering corrections every time the voice-over mispronounced something.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“When is Louis coming to pick me up?”
Fuck. He remembered the feeling in 2005 when he’d told his girls about the divorce. He’d have to break this boy’s heart.
“Hey, listen, buddy,” he began. Better to rip the bandage off now.
“Louis won’t come. He and Armand separated a while back. I’m sorry.”
Amadeo’s reaction was immediate. His face shifted like an open book, displaying emotion after emotion: surprise, anger, and finally sadness. His eyes bore into Daniel with utter disbelief.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Daniel muttered, and he meant it.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, as if that would make it any better. Then the sobbing started—a horrible, guttural sound pouring out of the vampire opposite him. Amadeo launched into a full-body sob, wailing and whining like the world was ending. Perhaps to him, it was. He cried in a way one can only do when they’re young, so overwhelmed by emotion it makes your heart stop in its tracks. It made Daniel avert his eyes for a few seconds and feel himself choke up. He wanted to cry with the boy.
“Daddy, don't you love Mommy anymore?” Katie cried inside his head. She was so young.
“Why are you leaving us?” her sister joined in.
This was back before Daniel had ruined their trust with decades’ worth of disappointments and broken promises. Back then, he was still their dad, and he was leaving them. He wouldn’t let it happen again.
“Amadeo, hey. It’s going to be alright. Louis told me to let you know that he still loves you deeply. But he needs his space now, you understand? I’ll take care of you.”
“Yes, and then you’ll leave! Just like him,” the boy spat, his face smeared with bloody tears, sadness now turning into a boiling, seething rage.
“Making promises won’t make you believe I’ll stay, wouldn’t work on me either. I’ll prove it to you, okay?”
He opened his arms wide so the boy could come to him if he wanted to. He looked like he needed it.
After a moment of skeptical scowling, the desire for closeness seemed to win and Amadeo practically launched himself into Daniel's arms, burying his face into the crook of his neck. A new wave of crying started, his chest heaving while the blood soaked through Daniel’s shirt. He couldn’t care less.
Daniel gently held the boy who was 514 years old while also being 17. He rubbed his back in soothing motions. Who had come up with the stupid idea that boys can’t cry?
“That’s good, sweetheart, get it all out. You’re doing so well,” Daniel lulled, though he wasn’t even sure Amadeo heard him. If he did, he made no sign obvious to him that he understood.
He cried and wailed until his voice was hoarse, and his tears gave way to a sniffle here and there, interspersed by another, more intense crying fit. It was terrifying to see him like this, so overcome by emotion. Still, Daniel held him, gently combing through his hair and softly rocking from side to side. Amadeo clung to him as if Daniel would leave him at any given moment.
They had about an hour left before sunrise when the boy had finally calmed, and Daniel was alarmed by the amount of blood lost. They were freshly out of blood reserves, and an hour wasn’t enough to go hunting. Aside from that, neither of them would be up for it right now. He knew his maker didn’t need as much blood as his fledgling did, but the infrequency with which he drank still alarmed him.
“Amadeo. You should have some blood before sunrise. Here, drink from me.” He petted the mop of dark, inky curls on his shoulder to get his attention. The boy raised his head to look at him, and Daniel moved his shirt collar out of the way, exposing the old immortalized scar.
No further words were exchanged. It seemed the boy needed no further convincing before sinking his kittenish fangs into his fledgling’s neck.
A soft moan spilled from Amadeo’s lips. The blood of one's own fledgling was the best a vampire would ever taste, Armand had told him. He said he hadn’t believed other vampires at first—that nothing would ever compare to the blood of his maker, Marius—but he was proven wrong the first time he drank from Daniel.
He drank and drank in increasingly desperate gulps, like he could take all of Daniel inside of him so that he’d never leave. Daniel gently pulled the boy off by grabbing his hair and pulling him away from his neck like the feisty kitten he was. Amadeo moaned softly.
He looked absolutely wrecked, blood dripping off his chin and pupils the size of two tennis balls. Like an addict getting his fix, some small part in the back of his mind said. He could feel the boy's erection pressing into his thigh—a normal reaction to this kind of blood exchange between fledgling and maker, as far as Daniel could tell.
“Alright. It’s bedtime, I’m starting to get tired,” he gently released Amadeo from his grasp and petted his cheek before rising from the sofa and turning off the TV.
Amadeo looked wide-eyed at Daniel, as if baffled that he wouldn’t want him.
“Amadeo. Off to bed. Now,” he repeated before moving to the bedroom. He heard the shuffling of feet behind him. He showed the boy where Armand’s pajamas were, and they both got dressed for bed in silence. Daniel lay down on his side of the bed first. Amadeo hovered awkwardly beside the bed.
“I can sleep on the couch if it makes you more comfortable to have the bed to yourself,” he spoke out loud without thinking. Right, he hadn’t thought about that. But with the blinds closed, no harm should come to him, hopefully?
The boy shook his head, the weighted blanket wrapped tightly around him, and moved to the foot of the bed, curling into a ball. It broke Daniel's heart all over again.
“Sweetheart, that can’t be comfortable,” he murmured placatingly. The other vampire wouldn’t budge. That’s alright. Let him stick to his routine if that’s what makes him comfortable. He’s had one hell of a night.
Daniel felt the by-now all-too-familiar pull of the sunrise. He couldn’t fight the immortal sleep any longer, and so he didn’t. He fell asleep under the gaze of two orange watchful eyes at the foot of their bed.