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Armand always liked to shower before bed every night, especially after he had been out of the apartment all day in client meetings. When Daniel had asked him about it, he said it was old practice, something he had done since the late 1800’s, and who was Daniel to break a 150 year old tradition? After all, it meant that Daniel got to see Armand as he was now - towel wrapped around narrow hips, slowly shifting lower and lower, getting looser and looser with every step he took. The dark hair that adorned his chest was curling, damp with droplets of water that Armand hadn’t yet wiped away. His brown skin shining, glistening from the light of the slowly rising sun pouring through their bedroom window. A light Daniel would no longer be able to stand so boldly in, and yet Armand could. A difference between them that spanned centuries Daniel was yet to live.
Daniel himself was propped up in bed, leaning against the headboard, pretending to read the book in his hands. He was under the duvet, his well-covered feet broaching the line of sunlight, in blue striped silk pyjamas that Armand had bought for him in Milan. He was peeking over the top of his book, watching Armand dress for sleep. He faced away from Daniel, not that he was complaining - it meant he got the perfect view of Armand from behind, opening the top drawer of their dresser and pulling out maroon pyjamas that matched Daniel’s own.
He pulled on his pyjamas and turned to face Daniel, whose eyes averted back to his book the second he did, and walked towards their bed. It wasn’t often that Daniel and Armand actually slept together anymore. Armand’s age made it no longer a thing he needed to do much, his humanity almost completely leaving him in that aspect of life. “You know you don’t have to hide looking at me?”
Daniel hummed in question, looking up from his book like he hadn’t heard Armand. “No one is here to chastise you for looking at your own partner, Daniel.” Daniel blinked at said partner, knowing he was referring to when his daughters dropped by and caught Daniel gazing at Armand smoking on the balcony, they had never met Armand before and were confused about the mid-twenties man their father seemed infatuated with.
“I was reading.” Daniel’s voice was monotonous as he spoke, as Armand moved to kneel on the bed and pluck the book from Daniel’s hands, leaving them to fall to his lap. He retrieved the bookmark from the back of the book, placing it in Daniel’s unread pages, and put the book on the nightstand with a soft thud. Armand placed a kiss on Daniel's cheek, and stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. “You, my dear, were not reading a thing.”
Daniel took a deep breath, moving a hand to stroke Armand’s cheek. This display of affection, even in private, would have made twenty-something year old Daniel cringe but it was just how seventy-something year old Daniel was. Only with Armand. “You’re right, I wasn’t.” Armand let out a little laugh.
His hair was loose around his face, curling and dripping wet, somehow even darker than it normally was. Daniel moved his hand up to push a strand away from Armand’s face. He closed his eyes as Daniel did so, leaning slightly into his touch. It had taken a while for Armand to allow Daniel to touch him this way, to trust him to be gentle when raising a hand to his face, and Daniel had been so happy the day Armand led his aged hand to his clear-skinned face. Daniel whispered, as to not disturb the moment. “You should really do something with your hair before you get in bed or your pillow will be soaked through by tonight.” Armand moved away from Daniel, got off the bed with a grace that Daniel didn’t even possess in his vampiric state, and picked up the hairbrush off the dresser.
He pointed the brush at Daniel, “Do it for me? I don’t have the energy left after today.” Daniel’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, Armand had never asked him to do that before - even back in their first brush of romance. He had asked Armand about his day when he got home, like a good housewife, but honestly Daniel didn’t fully understand what Armand did for a living.
“Seriously?” He took the brush from Armand, who was now standing at the edge of the bed.
Armand shrugged and nodded his head. “Yeah.”
“Okay. Shut the curtains first.”
So that’s how Daniel found himself, curtains now fully drawn, sitting on the edge of his and Armand’s soft bed, with Armand on the floor between his thighs. Armand was sitting almost impossibly straight backed, his hair leaving a slight damp ring around his collar. Daniel had brushed the ebony locks and parted them down the centre, separating his hair with a hair-tie Armand had produced from somewhere. The manner he had pulled it out of thin air made Daniel think the whole situation was premeditated as he began to braid. “What are you doing back there?”
Daniel smiled. “I’m sorting your hair.”
“Actually, beloved, I think you’ll find you’re braiding it.” Daniel could hear Armand’s smile too.
“You’d be right.” Daniel was making light work of Armand’s hair, already halfway done with one side, only mildly surprised that this was still muscle memory for him.
“Where did you learn to do that?” Armand moved his head to the side, so Daniel could see him in perfect profile, and Daniel moved his hands with the movement. He ducked forward quickly and kissed the side of Armand’s nose, making him squeeze his eyes shut and blush.
“I have two daughters, boss.” Armand hummed. Daniel held a hand out for another hair-tie he knew Armand would have, Armand placed one in his palm. He tied the braid off, taking the hair-tie out of the other side of Armand’s hair and placing it on his wrist.
“Of course, how stupid of me to ask.” Armand swallowed and looked at the ground beneath him. Daniel knew that the subject of his daughters was sometimes a sore subject for Armand, he knew that the thought of them brought back memories for Armand that Daniel didn’t have anymore. Not because of Armand but because he, as a human, had forgotten the memories himself.
“It’s fine. Alice taught me when we found out she was having a girl, said it would come in handy.” Daniel shrugged. “And I guess it has.” They sat in silence as Daniel’s fingers worked the rest of the way down Armand’s hair. Armand had turned back to face in front of him, and was once again immobile.
Daniel finished the braid, tying it off and tapping Armand’s shoulders with both hands. He admired his work as he moved to stand, looming over Armand in a way that didn’t happen often. Armand looked up at him from the floor. “Need a hand there, old man?” Daniel held his hand out to Armand, who took it and scowled at him in response.
They stood for a few minutes, hands clasped together, chatting about age. Daniel teased Armand for his ancient age, his ‘prehistoric bones’, and his contextual knowledge of the Napoleonic Wars (to which the one reply he got was: ‘I was a child, Daniel, I do not remember the Napoleonic Wars! I wasn’t even on the same continent!’ and a slight push). Armand teased Daniel about his gray hair (that Daniel knew Armand actually loved), his ‘long human life’, and his contextual knowledge of the 1960s. Daniel had thought it was impossible to love Armand more, but in that moment he felt himself fall deeper into those amber eyes.
When they, again, retreated to bed Armand and Daniel laid twisted together in the centre of the plush mattress. Legs between legs, chest pushed up against side, heads crushed together, hands innocently exploring bodies, lips kissing pathways explored a thousand times before but still as exciting as the first. They lay like that, old and ancient, until sleep overtook Daniel and something akin to sleep took Armand. They lay, intertwined, until the moon peeked back through the curtains and Armand decided it was time to wake Daniel with a warm cup of blood to stave off the chill of the winter night.