Sliver of Midnight

by armandsairpods, Thunder_Puss

Summary:

You pop open the plastic Blockbuster Video rental case and push the tape into the VCR. The last person to rent was kind enough to rewind, so you hit play. After a strongly worded message from the FBI, the first trailer begins. An armandsairpods and Thunder_Puss joint production...

"Accidental novelist Daniel Molloy is ready to do just about anything to avoid writing a sequel to the hit pulp vampire romance he churned out while in the throes of his addiction. Lucky for him that the luxury apartment building he's just moved into is full of beautiful and strange characters to keep him busy. His neighbor, for example; the handsome Louis who feels uneasy about the old building's acoustics and often senses that he is being watched. Louis' ex, Lestat, with his prince-like charm and sweeping romantic gestures that almost make up for his careless missteps. Did we mention that he is French? And he isn't the only one. You'll meet Madeleine, Eglee, Santiago, and Claudia. And, of course, there is the building's beguiling manager, Armand. A strange and mild-mannered man with just a few too many plates spinning and an obvious desire to appear outwardly conventional which leaves Daniel with a burning desire to peel back his layers."

Chapter 1: the very serious and even criminal offense of obstructing the mail

Summary:

Daniel moves in

The moving company sucked. Daniel's fault for going with the budget option despite his editor's recommendation, but listen… you could take the kid out of the lower middle class tax bracket, but you couldn't take the lower middle class tax bracket out of the kid. He clutched his precious coffee mug collection tighter to his chest as Lyle and Randall grunted past him with little consideration for how he was pressed uncomfortably against the doorway to make way for his couch.

He still needed to pick up his keys. The building manager, Armand — the almost obscenely attractive man he'd taken his tour with, applied with, and signed all the pertinent paperwork with, had been meant to meet him here with the keys some half an hour ago, before Lyle and Randall began hefting in boxes and furniture. Daniel had done his best to hold them back, but hell… they were being paid by the hour whether it was on his publisher's dime or not. Now the lobby’s black-and-white checkered tile was littered with suitcases, milk crates of records he’d haphazardly secured with packing tape, boxes of his book (both paperback and hardcover) labeled "signed" and "unsigned", and most embarrassing of all, his beat-up old couch. It was the only piece of real furniture Alice had let him take in the split. Everything else had been hers, after all, and fair was fair. Daniel wasn’t overly emotional about it at all. Plenty of guys rented a truck to drive their shitty couch across the country, or at least that was the impression the relocation service had given him when he impulsively made the request. Then of course he’d found a building that offered furnished units, but his new place was spacious enough that he wasn't too worried about finding a way to make it fit.

"Ah! Mr. Molloy!” Armand’s posh voice interrupted his thoughts. “I'm terribly sorry, I was just handling a matter with a tenant upstairs and I-"

"It's alright," Daniel said, bending to set the box of mugs down as gingerly as he could. The man looked like he'd just ran a mile. He was glowing under a light sheen of perspiration and one inky black curl was plastered to his forehead. Daniel couldn't help noting that he was dressed a little warm for the day. It had to be over seventy degrees in the lobby and the guy was in a black knit turtleneck and wool pants. "Wasn't in a rush."

"It seems your movers are."

Daniel followed Armand’s eyes to the movers heading on their way back out the entrance for the next load. He realized with a dull panic that what was left included several trash bags that he’d stuffed his shirts and jeans into. His junk already looked out of place in the middle of the extremely fashionable lobby, he didn’t need to evoke the image of an actual dumpster.

The lobby’s vintage brass elevator dinged him out of the thought. Daniel had clocked the feature as oddly out-of-place with the otherwise modern entrance, but the man who stepped out of it now was even more anachronistic. Blond hair falling to his shoulders, the span of which compared to his waist was made almost cartoonishly dramatic by the cut of a lavender suit vest, he held his chin high in a way that suggested the whole romance paperback aesthetic was deadly serious. His Italian leather shoes tapped musically on the granite as he paced his way over to Daniel's shabby couch, rounded it this way and back, before turning, irate, and storming in their direction.

"Armand!"

Daniel shrunk back as the man bellowed in a voice deep enough to vibrate in the air as it bounced around every hard surface of the wide open lobby. He glanced to the side and could see on the weary building manager's face that he was not equipped at this moment to handle the ire of this imposing and seemingly extremely French man.

"How many times have I said it? C'est comme parler à un mur de briques, you must not block entry to the mailboxes. I'm waiting on a very important letter and I would not soil the bottom of these shoes by stepping on a dusty and god-only-knows-what-infested sofa to get to my box-"

"I'll have my guys move it," Daniel interceded. "It was my mistake. Armand wasn't even here and my movers just-"

The man scoffed, ignoring him. "And I see the front desk was left unattended. Again."

Armand drew a deep breath, one that was badly needed by the look of him, before he began to attempt to soothe the Frenchman's temper.

"My sincerest apologies, Lestat. I was dealing with something upstairs that required my immediate attention. As you know, Santiago’s hours have been adjusted until he-"

"Santiago. Mon trou du cul se serre rien qu'à ce nom."

Armand grimaced out a smile and turned apologetically to Daniel. "Santiago is our concierge. We have a night porter as well. You'll get to know the staff in the coming days, of course, and this gentleman-" Armand gestured to the fuming man, "is Lestat de Lioncourt. He lives three floors below you, but I've no doubt your paths will cross fairly often."

Daniel hoped he was doing a good enough job at keeping the dread off his face as he turned to the Frenchman and held out his hand. "Daniel Molloy. Unit 4B. Nice to meet you."

Lestat regarded the offered hand as if it might be carrying disease, but reluctantly he took it and Daniel was surprised at the firmness and strength behind his shake. For a man who wore lavender slacks, he sure had a grip on him. And it was sustained a little longer than usual, Daniel thought, as the man's piercing blue eyes -nearly lavender, themselves- ran him over him and his disdain softened into something else that Daniel couldn't quite name. Something that felt a little dangerous, perhaps intimidating. His lips quirked and Daniel clocked it. He looked amused.

"Well, I’m charmed," Lestat said, apparently finished with his assessment. "But I must insist on having a word with your men about the very serious and even criminal offense of obstructing the mail."

Daniel laughed, eyeing Armand only to see that he seemed not the least bit amused before glancing back to Lestat who, it turned out, was not joking. "Uh… you really don't have to bother, they're my problem. I'll deal with them."

Lestat nodded gravely. "Please see that you do." He pivoted to Armand again and Daniel couldn't help but notice the way Armand stood up a little straighter, leaned in a little more, and opened his eyes a skosh wider when Lestat's attention was on him. "In the meantime, I'm also anticipating a package. I shudder to think what might happen if there were no one in attendance at the desk when it arrived."

"I’ll put Santiago on duty as soon as he arrives, which will be well before the evening deliveries." Armand assured him. "In the interim, I am here."

This seemed to satisfy the man.

"Well that's a relief," he sighed. "Just when I was beginning to think there were no brains in that pretty head." Again, he flashed his eyes over Daniel. "2A, by the way. Should you need anything."

Once more, the gaze was sustained and Daniel felt his palms begin to sweat a little under the scrutiny. 2A… And Daniel was 4B. Armand had said the man was three floors below him, which didn't quite add up. Of course, he could have simply misspoke, Daniel supposed.

Lestat hummed in a fanciful fashion and turned on his heel with a flourish before tapping his way back to the elevator.

"That guy's certainly a character," Daniel said, hoping to dispel some of the tension left in Lestat's wake.

"He is, perhaps, the most bombastic of all the tenants living here. It is unfortunate he is the first to make your acquaintance."

"Oh, don't apologize for him. I didn't say it was a bad thing. I love characters. Being a writer and all, I-"

"Where do you want this one, boss?" Randall hollered, swallowing up the tail end of Daniel's sentence. "Says 'private; keep out' all over the box, figure you probably don't want this one sitting out in the lobby in case it's filled with dirty videos or sex toys or something, heh-"

Armand's eyes popped wider and Daniel felt his jaw tense. "Uh… thanks, Randall. The building manager is here with the key, now."

Lyle was butting up behind him with the dreaded trash bags slung over each shoulder. "We can go up now?"

"I'll take you up," Armand said with a smile, apparently unfazed by Daniel’s packing skills. "Shall we direct them to move the sofa first? Perhaps you can carry your box of private items along so they aren't sitting exposed."

A schoolboy blush was creeping into Daniel's cheeks and he turned to meet Randall, taking the box from him. "Yeah, good idea."

"That thing gonna fit in the elevator?" Lyle said, nodding in the direction of the couch.

Daniel and Armand each turned their attention to the thing as the elevator dinged again and a slender redheaded woman emerged, dressed entirely in black but for her red kitten heels echoing while she adjusted her bag over her shoulder and stopped to stare at the scene.

"Good afternoon, Madeleine," Armand greeted her.

She regarded him with a smile and a nod before pointing at the worn couch. "That is not going to fit in the elevator," she said flatly.

Another Frenchy, Daniel thought. Another babe, at that. "There's a stairwell, isn't there?" he asked, aiming more towards Armand.

"There is," Armand confirmed. "However, this is an old building and it is narrow and spirals…"

"Aw, shit," Lyle grumbled. He set down his box with less care than Daniel would've liked. "I'm not getting dinged for scuffing up some historic building's stairwell. You signed a contract that said-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what I signed," Daniel groaned. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Look, you know what, fuck the couch."

"Indeed," the beauty called Madeleine agreed casually. "It's a hideous color, anyway."

"Does that mean we gotta drag it out to the curb?" Randall asked, looking elated not to have to heft the thing up to the unit after all.

Madeleine clucked her tongue. "There's a fee for furniture pick-up. You'll have to pay it."

Fine. Daniel would pay the stupid fee. He was lucky enough to have had the moving team paid for, what was one measly fee?

"Yeah, sure, that's alright. I'll pay it."

"We can sort it out later, Mr. Molloy," said Armand. "For now, let's go up and let you into your new home."

Randall and Lyle stood scratching their heads and Madeleine looked between the four of them.

"Okay," she said. "You take him on up, I'll introduce myself later and I suppose I can direct this monkey circus while you're up there, huh?"

"Uh…" Daniel was caught between feeling insulted and enticed. "I'm sorry," he said in a breathless daze. "My name's Daniel. 4B. This really doesn't need to be your responsibility if you were-"

"What else are neighbors for, Mr. Molloy?" It stung a little the way she brushed past the offer of his first name, but Daniel had to admit, it wasn't a bad sting. "Madeleine. Éparvier. 2B."

Easy to remember. Floor two, the French floor, apparently.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Éparvier." He had his mental fingers crossed that 'miss' would go uncorrected.

Her eyes dropped to the box he was holding and she smirked before raising her eyes to meet his again. "Well, I imagine you must be eager to get up there. I'll watch over your things in the meantime and see that your men don't scuff the floors."

Daniel wiped the dopey smile off his face and nodded. "Yeah. Sounds… great."

She laughed before shooing them and Armand broke the spell, already several paces ahead and moving towards the elevator.

"Come, Mr. Molloy, I'll take you up."

Daniel clamored after him. "Just Daniel's fine."

He watched, confused, as Armand pressed the old, embossed button for the fifth floor.

“Shouldn’t we head to four?”

“Oh yes, I neglected to tell you. A unit with much better furnishings became available this week.”

 

---

 

"And so, you see, it'd actually be doing me a huge favor because otherwise there would be a much heftier curbside pickup fee. And I can assure you that everything is clean as I had the mattress and the sofa and chairs steamed when the carpets were cleaned and-"

"Hey, look, you sold me," Daniel said with a laugh as Armand turned the key in the door and opened up unit 5B.

Daniel had already been charmed as they walked from the elevator by the glass block wall that faced the common area. He was not prepared for the inside of the apartment.

"You see, it is a much more spacious layout and though it is still just the one bedroom, you can see that-"

"Holy shit…"

Armand laughed a little. "Yes. The carpet is like new. You'd never know anyone lived here prior."

Daniel stepped out into the living space, his head swiveling all around. There was a massive 30" television set into a sleek entertainment system, a plush, rounded cream-colored sectional sofa surrounding a funky glass coffee table lit up below with color-changing lights. There was art on the walls, abstract and colorful. Shapes and lines and nothing else. The walls were a soft teal color, the carpet blush pink. And the carpet went wall to wall, leading all the way in to a circular glass block bar-style fixture which Daniel determined to be the eat-in feature. It was lit up with glowing light that seemed to be set into the counter-top.

"Swanky," Daniel said, in awe as he traced his hand over it.

"The color can be changed if you don't like fuchsia."

"You know, I'm just one guy…"

"Precisely. I thought it would be a nice fit for a young single man. A best selling author, no less."

Daniel had sweat the whole proof of income thing during the application process, but he'd told Armand all about his best selling novel, The Devil's Minion. The book that had taken the darkly inclined and the morbidly curious (and primarily a whole lot of teenaged girls which Daniel found himself endlessly baffled at) by storm. A pulp vampire novel that was being re-branded by black fingernail polish wearing youths as a homoerotic gothic romance.

He guessed he just hadn't been aware of that fact at the time he was writing it. Though, to be fair, he hardly remembered writing it in the first place, he'd been so strung out.

Still… The protagonist and his vampire boss don't even fuck. All the physical touches, any kissing, had been presumed intentionally preternatural in vibe.

Anyway, it didn't matter. He'd blown through a good chunk of that check by putting himself through rehab twice and now he was coasting on a hefty advance to help him write his follow up. A foolish mistake on his part, signing a contract while loaded. They wanted a steamy sequel with more fangs, more blood, and less subtextual sex. Without even trying, Daniel Molloy had become the king of gay vampire erotica and now he was on the hook for another and the thought of having to make that happen without the aid of substances was more than daunting. What if he couldn't write while straight?

What if he couldn't write gay while straight?

"I might've sold a book, but I'm not exactly used to-"

"Two books, isn’t it? You said you're writing a sequel. How exciting. I'm looking forward to it."

Daniel leaned over the bar counter to inspect the layout of the kitchen behind it before turning back, roses in his cheeks again. "Aw, don't tell me you went out and picked up a copy…"

"You said it was a romance." Armand smiled and gave him a guilty shrug. "I couldn't help myself."

"Jeez." Daniel shook his head, fighting a grin. "Promise me you won't read the second, will ya?" Whenever the fuck it comes out.

Armand did not promise, instead, he lead the way past the glass bar and into the bedroom. "You'll approve of the furnishings in here as well, I hope."

The bedroom was even more ridiculous.

"Is that a waterbed?"

 

---

 

Daniel stared at himself in the mirror as he stood, naked and pink from the heat of the water, bathed in the steam. It was curious, the way the mirror fogged. Every glass block that made up the wall behind him was couded over, the tile to his side was fogged, too, but the mirror in front of him seemed to frost over in a halo around his reflection's face. Like mirror Daniel was putting off enough heat to warm the glass from the other side with his breath. He squinted and drew closer, staring until he'd lost himself to scrutinizing his own face. The circles under his eyes, the crease between his brows, the new set of crows feet he'd developed over the last year. He scrutinized until his vision fuzzed out and he realized that, in fact, the hole in the fog had closed up.

"Stupid," he derided himself, gently lowering his body down into the hot water which was treated with bursting beads of scented oil that Madeleine, the foxy French redhead from 2B, had left outside his door as a home-warming gift. How she knew Armand had convinced him to take 5B over 4B, he could not say. Did it matter? She'd been nice to him and certainly that meant he had a shot. He wished he hadn't missed her cracking a whip over Randall and Lyle with the couch.

"Could crack one over me," he sighed to himself, leaning back on the towel he'd folded for a headrest against the edge of the large, round tub.

It was so deep that his knees barely breached the surface and they fell open and wide against its sides. He'd poured himself a flute of bubbling white grape juice while the tub filled. A little something to celebrate. It sat on the ledge now along with a seashell shaped glass ashtray and his pack of smokes.

"Not quite champagne, but it'll do…"

He sipped the juice, crisp and tingling in his mouth and set it back down, reaching for his cigarettes before thinking better of it.

There was one more thing he could do to celebrate. One thing that was practically demanding him to consider it at this very moment.

"Oh, yeah, cigarette after," he muttered, letting his hand sink below the oily surface of the water. Just as it wrapped around his dick, the reverberation of a thud sounded all around him.

He startled, making himself still and silent to listen. Perhaps a lamp had fallen over in the bedroom. Perhaps something had gotten knocked over in his neighbor's unit. They shared a wall, after all. They shared the one behind the mirror, a chunk of the bedroom, and an entire section of the living room. Usually, in big old buildings like this, the walls were thick enough that you didn't have to worry about such things, but Daniel supposed it was better to find out early than to go and make an enemy out of a neighbor he'd yet to meet.

He didn't hear anything more. Just the measured in and out of his own breath. The drip of the faucet into the steaming bath. His fist didn't want to wait for the clear and a moment later he was at it again, working himself back up to desperate when the sound of footsteps stopped him dead.

"Careful, Molloy," he said to himself, "you're jumping at shadows."

Being on edge felt a little too close to being on the jones for comfort. He could take that edge off with an orgasm and a smoke, sure, but spending the night in a new place always spooked him.

Then again, maybe he needed to be spooked a little. Maybe that would get his ass in gear to write some more vampire pulp. Maybe he'd make sure to wrap things up nice enough that his next book deal could be something he really wanted to write. Non-fiction. He wanted to go back to his roots, not to getting paid dirt to write a shitty little culture column. That was how he'd ended up on skag in the first place. He'd gotten a little too authentic with it. But maybe some aging rockstar was in need of a biographer or something.

That could be cool.

 

---

 

The water bed was heated, at least, and Daniel woke up feeling great. There'd be a learning curve to rolling his ass out of the contraption, but one thing was certain; he could not wait to bring a chick back to this pad.

He'd just have to be sure she didn't have any spiky jewelry, which was a bigger ask than you'd think where his latest pulls were concerned.

With no idea where his coffee pot had ended up and after checking the only three boxes labeled "kitchen," he gave up the cause and decided to slip into some jeans and his sneakers and head on out to scrounge up breakfast. Just as he turned his key in his lock, the door to 5A swung open and Daniel watched a willowy and well-dressed man with a stack of envelopes in his mouth slip out while still pulling on his jacket. He kept missing the arm and it felt cruel just to stand by and witness so Daniel offered to help.

"Need a hand?"

He approached the man, locking eyes as the guy bent forward for Daniel to accept the stack from between his teeth.

"Thanks," the man said with a smile that lit him up like a lightbulb.

Daniel had to look away, a grin spreading on his own lips. "No problem. What else was I gonna do? Let you struggle and seal our fate as neighbors and enemies?"

At last, the man's arm was in his sleeve and he took the envelopes back from Daniel before taking his hand and shaking it.

"Ah, I wouldn't have counted you as an enemy that fast."

"Yeah, well I would've assumed," Daniel countered, fingers tingling once they were released. "And then I would've been awkward and stand-offish and you'd have assumed I hated you, but really it'd just be that I'm worried you hate me and it'd be a whole thing."

"I see," the man laughed. "Well, I'm Louis. And I don't hate you."

"Daniel. And you don't hate me yet. For all you know, I might get night terrors and scream bloody murder in the dead of night. Or worse. I could be an opera singer. Or a drummer…"

Louis tilted his head. "Hmm, drummer I can see, but you don't strike me as an opera guy."

"You don't think I'm classy enough?" Daniel stretched out his arms, emphasizing the holes under each armpit in his shirt.

"Oh, it's not a matter of class, it's a matter of taste. Believe me, I dated an opera guy for a long time. Class has nothing to do with it."

Now this guy had charm, not to mention just a hint of a Southern lilt that Daniel was already itching to see if he could draw out further. The easy way he referred to an ex opera guy was refreshing too. It seemed Daniel hadn’t misread the tone of his editor’s voice when he called Daniel’s new neighborhood “artsy.” His last apartment building had all but fallen to the WASPs looking to swarm anything “up and coming” in San Casaval. Outside of Alice, not a soul on that block had come anywhere near what Daniel would personally define as attractive. This building, however… Down to the guy who managed it…

I could be swimming in it, he thought. If I play my cards right.

"Headed somewhere important? In a rush? Sorry if I'm keeping you…"

"Nowhere important," Louis said with a wink. "Just work. Need to drop these acceptance letters off with the outgoing mail and then I was gonna stop in at Caroline's for breakfast and see how much time I can waste before actually going into the gallery."

"Oh, a gallery. Fancy."

"Not really. Not as fancy as some. What do you do?"

Daniel became acutely aware of how shlubby he probably looked and only hoped it came across cute. "Me? Oh, I'm a writer."

Louis' grin widened. "Yeah? Anything I'd know?"

"God, I hope not." Daniel could feel the scrutiny of Louis' eyes, burning into him, waiting for him to reveal it. "I published a book a while back. A book about vampires."

"Vampires? You don't at all seem the type."

"Yeah, that's what I said…"

Louis laughed. "You're cute."

Oh, thank god.

"Thanks," Daniel said with a blush. "You're a little devastating, yourself."

The tip of Louis' tongue met his eye tooth as he scanned around the common area, eyes landing on the elevator before darting back to Daniel. "Think maybe you'd like to grab breakfast with me?"

Daniel shrugged, his grin about to split. "I'd love to. Thought you'd never ask."

 

---

 

"And you know what the worst of it was?"

Daniel's coffee stirrer was stabbed into the butt end of his unfinished bearclaw, pushing it around his plate while he half-listened. "No, what?"

"The bastard acts like a saint for offering to move out and then goes right behind my back to lease another apartment in the same building. So now he lives in 2A, just a few floors below me and I'm constantly running into him in the lobby and here and-"

Daniel was sat frozen, the bit of bearclaw fighting for its life where it clung to the thin plastic straw before ultimately dropping into the ashtray in front of him with a tiny thud amongst a smattering of stubbed out cigarette butts. "Hang on," he interrupted. "Did you say your ex lives in unit 2A?"

"That's right," Louis confirmed.

"Shit… No way…" Right there at the 58th minute of Louis’ agitated saga about his ex.

Louis gave an exasperated sigh. "Don't tell me you've met."

"Blond guy, right? French as fuck?"

"That's him."

"Lestat, right?"

Another sober sigh. "Yes. That's his name. Let me guess, he tried to chat you up?"

"What? No, he was actually kind of a jerk. I mean, just the way you described except for at the end."

"He has a pull."

"He's certainly a character."

"And you're sure he didn't hit on you? I mean, you're just his type. Breathing."

Daniel shrugged. "It's hard to tell. You know the French…"

"Too well," Louis mused half to himself as he knocked back the last of his fourth cup of black coffee. "It's just that… Hm. No, nevermind."

"No, go on."

"Well… Did you tell him you were going to be moving into the apartment next to mine?"

"No, actually. Funny thing about that, I originally applied and signed paperwork thinking I'd be moving into 4B, a floor below. Armand switched it up on me last minute yesterday."

Louis leaned in. "Switched it up?"

"Yeah, he took me to 5B, told me it was available and that he thought it'd be a better fit for me and… Well, I don't know about a 'better fit,' but it's nice. So, I took it."

"Strange."

"A little."

"No, I mean… I didn't even realize that unit was available. It's strange that you're living in it at all, but I just sort of figured it was on me that I hadn't been paying attention. I never even noticed the previous tenants had left."

Daniel laughed. "Really? Surely you must've heard them moving out."

"No. I could hardly tell anyone was there half the time. Every now and then I'd hear them moving around in there, but that was it. I guess you couldn't ask for a better neighbor. Armand said they traveled a lot for work, but even then, you'd think I'd have ran into them in the hall a time or two."

"Oh, that is strange."

"So finding out you applied for a different unit and got placed in the one next to me is just… Well, it's a little surprising. But maybe it shouldn't be."

"How do you figure?"

Louis sighed and shook his head. "Armand is a bit of a puppet master. He likes to play peacemaker between me and Lestat, he thinks we should settle our differences and get back together. Can't for the life of me figure out why when it's so obvious he's got the hots for Lestat."

"So why shouldn't it surprise you that he'd move me in next to you? Why not move him?"

"You could make Lestat jealous. You're attractive and-"

Daniel smirked, his skin warming at the complement. "And what?"

"You've got swagger."

"Do I?" Daniel wiggled a little, preening in his booth. He'd need to change the subject and quick before he thoroughly embarrassed himself. "I thought Lestat had some interesting chemistry with Armand, actually. Called him pretty at the same time he was insulting his intelligence. Seemed like they'd get on in the right setting. A bed, maybe. Perhaps that's the thread you should follow."

"Thread?" Louis said, sounding utterly insulted.

Oh, shit…

"I'm not following any threads, Daniel. I really could not care less what or who Lestat's entertaining himself with. Of course, now that you and I had breakfast, he's going to make trouble for you, so it'd be in your best interest to play dumb next time you cross paths."

SHIT.

"Why? It's not like this was a date. It was just… neighborly coffee and donuts."

Louis laughed, a low chuckle that ran a cord from Daniel's ear straight down to his dick and tugged. "He won't see it that way."

“How will he even know? You have plans to tell him?”

“Too late,” Louis shrugged, taking a sip of what Daniel knew to be lukewarm coffee without even a flinch. “He walked past the window ten minutes ago, wearing a hat like a damn fool.”

Daniel instinctively turned his head to the street outside their booth’s window. No one was staring back at him, so he looked to Louis again. Louis, who had relaxed back into his seat as if it was Daniel’s turn to explain himself.

"You know,” Daniel started. “I'm not even-"

Louis widened his eyes expectantly and Daniel came up lost.

"Not what, Daniel?"

"I don't date men."

Louis laughed in disbelief, like Daniel was having him on. "You said you wrote a gay romance novel."

"I did. Well… inadvertently, I did. I guess. You see, I didn't know that's what it was at the time I was writing it."

Louis looked on in bewilderment.

"The book sort of took on a life of its own once it was out of my hands. I can't control how people interpret the story."

"You said the next one was going to full of sex."

Daniel swallowed his nerves and looked up to the coffee and nicotine stained drop ceiling. "I did say that…" He nodded. "I haven't exactly gotten around to writing any of it, yet, so…"

Louis scoffed. "Well, I suppose if you have any questions…"

And here was Daniel, proving Alice and his mother right yet again. He was simply incapable of making a good first impression. His mouth tasted of sneaker.

"I'm not getting friendly because I wanna pump you for inspiration, man." Although… "I just wanted to get on good terms with the guy I'm sharing walls with, is that a crime?"

"So how come you were flirting with me in the hallway?" He looked pointedly serious and Daniel felt himself pressing back against the foam seat of his booth.

"I thought you were flirting…"

Smart, Daniel. Accuse the man back. That'll smooth things over.

Louis' demeanor cracked, then, and an incredulous smile broke over him. "You're an interesting case, Daniel."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Louis' eyes dropped to Daniel's mouth as he pulled his own lower lip between his teeth and slowly raised them back up. "Means I’m thinkin'… fuck the gallery. You wanna give me a tour of your place? I've always wanted to see the inside…"

Oh…

Daniel's breath left him and he had to swallow to wet his throat enough to speak. "Y-yeah. I mean… sure. If you want to do that, we can… yeah. Do that…"

Louis' head shook as he narrowed his eyes. "Uh-huh," he said, smile going sideways. "I knew it. I was fucking with you, Danny…"

Danny, now.

"What?" His palms had begun to sweat and he wiped them on his thighs before shakily reaching for another cigarette. "Yeah. I knew that…"

Their waitress, Daphne, swung by popping her gum and dropped off the check with a wink. Her lipstick was running into the tributarial creases around her mouth, little red lightning strikes in all directions and Daniel had a momentary fit of curiosity about what those thin, over-done lips might look like wrapped around his-

"Danny?"

"Hm?" He tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette and turned his attention back Louis' way.

"I was just saying I wouldn't mind letting you flash your wad a bit. Figured that might get your blood pumping being a newly successful first time novelist and all that."

The man's grin was foxlike and wily and Daniel could not begin to argue with it, nor could he begrudge the man his brashness.

"Bet you can sell the hell out of some paint-spattered canvases," he said, wedging the end of the cigarette between his lips and taking the check, holding it up as if inspecting it while narrowing his eyes in some mock distrust before casting his eyes back to Louis and reaching for his wallet.

 

 

Chapter 2: You'll start to notice things...

Summary:

Conversations about vampires, proper hydration, and ghosts, all with varying levels of sexual tension...

Notes:

Updates might not always be this quick, but we were sure to load a few in the chamber ahead of time, so here's chapter 2!!!

Daniel wouldn't consider Louis toying with him over breakfast a strike out. In fact, he was happy to have gotten on friendlier terms with his neighbor and maybe the gossip was good for him. Maybe it'd inspire him. He had enough caffeine and calories in his tank now that he thought he might be able to tackle some unpacking. Maybe he'd try setting up the Yomiga. Hell, maybe he'd write.

He'd used a typewriter all his life until his editor suggested a word processor, which he'd hated and sold off for drug money. The Yomiga had been a gift from the publisher when the ink dried on his deal. A little bonus to go along with his advance. It was used and refurbished, he suspected, which meant there was no manual, so every time he attempted to hook the thing up he walked away with a headache and a dangerous itching under his skin to sell the thing off and… and… and…

So he kept it. He kept it and it was his. His not-so-little hunk of plastic and wires that weighed him down more than any old poker chip could. And once he got up to his apartment, he'd sink his fingers into its tendrils like an old friend and fuss and fight and maybe even get the thing up and running. Then he'd have made two new friends.

He flipped is keys over his finger as he entered the lobby, looking around to see if there were any new faces, curious to test the hypothesis that in this building was concentrated all the most attractive people in New Graven.

Empty. Damn.

Empty except…

"A new face…"

A sonorous voice filled up the expanse and Daniel turned to see an imposing man, tall and broad in the shoulders, standing straight and statuesque behind the reception desk.

"Hi," he answered with a curious smile, his feet coming to a stand-still.

"Well, come a bit closer, boy, let me have a look at you."

Daniel glanced around again, as if looking for someone's eyes to meet to have a laugh about how queer all of this felt, but he obeyed. He approached the desk in an almost cautious way, playing it up so as to be ambiguous whether it was mockingly so. "I take it you're San… tino?"

"Santiago," he was corrected.

"Forgive me. I'm Daniel Molloy, the new tenant in 5B." Daniel took stock of him now that he was closer and the same was being done to him. Yeah, the man was tall. About as tall as Armand. He was older, perhaps in his sixties, hair bleached stark. Not exactly in Daniel’s strike zone, but again… he was stunningly and strikingly handsome. He wore a light gray cardigan over a soft blue scoop-neck shirt. The tone of his arms could be seen through his layers and Daniel took quick note of the way the material of his shirt cleaved to his chest. "You're the daytime receptionist?"

"I like my nights to myself."

Daniel felt for a moment like he needed to defend himself. He hadn't meant to imply that he was… well, implying anything. He felt a little caught in the headlights.

"And," Santiago prompted. "How are you liking the place?"

Daniel nodded. "Like it just fine. Didn't realize I was getting an upgrade, but I can't complain."

Santiago crossed his arms and strode around the desk, hopping up onto it and crossing his legs at the ankles. "You don't look like the sort of tenant we usually get here."

Okay, that had to be an insult. Daniel's mouth dropped open but he hadn't quite thought of how to respond. He grit his teeth in a smile. "Well… I haven't exactly unpacked so I was just running out for coffee."

"Oh, yes. With Louis du Lac, do I have that right?"

Fuck.

"We pass each other or something?"

"Oh, no, the walls have ears, my dear."

An image of a certain other tall blond effete man came to Daniel's mind. "I'm sure they do."

"Well good on you, making fast friends with your nextdoor neighbor. I do hope you find the place charming. It's not what it once was, believe me, but you young folk do love your… carpet and your… sharp angles…"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. Come to think of it, he had noticed that the exterior of the building did not quite mesh with its interior. The outside was all Corinthian columns and grandeur. The inside was sleek, modern, and sparse. You couldn't hide the bones of the building, of course. The stairwell was still antique and the elevators were not quite en vogue, but cosmetically…

"You'll start to notice things," Santiago went on. "Like the shape and size of the windows not being standard code. We had to have the glass retrofitted. It cost a fortune. Oh to think what money might've been saved with a simple restoration. But what can you expect from the young?"

Daniel was lost. However, he was intrigued. "May I ask how long you've worked here?"

Santiago smiled at him. "Wicked. No, you may not. Imagine if I were to let my age slip so readily. We've only just met." He winked.

Were Daniel's cheeks getting warm? "Okay, well… can I ask about the renovation?"

"You'll have to ask Armand if you want to know the justification behind it. I, myself, haven't managed to pry any reason out of the man aside from poor taste."

"How long has he worked here?" It tumbled out of his mouth before he could think better of it.

Santiago laughed. "Not as long as I have."

"Give me a riddle, why don't ya…"

"Oh, I like you. It's good to be a little bit sassy around here. You'll fit right in."

Again, Daniel felt he should take some offense to being described as 'sassy,' but he wasn't entirely sure why. "How long has Armand been running the place?"

"Five years. Give or take. Now, you owe me an answer."

Daniel smirked. "Alright. I'm an open book."

"So I heard. And a salacious one at that. Tell me, Mr. Molloy, where might I find a copy of your novel, The Devil's Minion?"

Ahhh, so that was it. "I see. You want a copy?"

"Have you any on hand?"

Daniel laughed. "Are you kidding? My movers yesterday are probably on crutches right now, I had them heft so many boxes of the damn things. I'll bring one by later. What time do you get off?"

"Work, you mean?"

Well, he only had himself to blame for walking into that one. "Yeah. So I don't miss you."

"And we wouldn't want you to do that, would we?" Santiago hopped down from the counter as he put on a pout for show. "My shift ends at seven. That's when Eglee, the night porter, arrives."

"Night porter. Sounds fancy."

"We can't very well call her the doorman, now, can we? Though these are modern days, I suppose."

"Uh-huh." Daniel could not help being charmed by every damn nutjob he encountered in this building. It was almost wearing thin. "And I take it you'll want that copy signed?"

"If you could," Santiago stated flatly, suddenly looking quite busy with a stack of envelopes in front of him as he lowered himself into his seat. "Make it out to, my dearest Santiago. 'All your best', something and such, you're the writer. I'm sure you'll figure it out. Perhaps a cheeky little xo at the end."

Amazing. "Yeah. You got it."

"Lovely to meet you, Mr. Molloy," he said, definitively drawing their encounter to a close and making certain there was no room for awkward fumbling or exit-seeking. "Ta!"

Daniel found himself unable to do anything but echo it back at him in mock fashion.

"Ta!"

---

He could've sworn he'd had another pack of cigarettes laying around. He checked his pants pocket from the previous evening, still in a pile on the bathroom floor, he checked the drawer beside the bed. Nothing.

It was fine, really. He'd been meaning to cut back. Unlike most other smokers, Daniel Molloy wasn't addicted. And he knew just the look he'd get when he said it to people out loud, so he'd quit. He quit it just as clean and easy as he could quit smoking if he wanted. Daniel knew addiction. He knew the kind of junk sickness that could kill you. He could sweat out a nicotine habit in a day or two, no biggie.

It was just that moving was stressful. And that goddamned computer was stressful. And right now, he was in the middle of moving and trying to set up the goddamned Yomiga. So…

He had a wooden pencil bit between his teeth, his tongue circling idly around the tangy metal crown that held the bitter rubber eraser in place. Round and round and round it went, soothing the craving in him, giving him something to split his focus on while he untangled wires and attempted to match plugs to sockets. He bit down unexpectedly hard when a sudden knock sounded at the door. He tasted paint and splintered wood and as he looked through the peephole, he pinched the grainy fibers off his tongue and wiped them onto the front of his jeans.

Standing outside his door in warped fisheye view was Armand.

It was hard to tell with the distortion whether the ensemble he wore was just coming across strange or whether it was oversized. Daniel wished he'd bothered to put something else on, himself. He was still wearing the torn t-shirt he'd slept in when he opened the door and, it turned out, the peek through the peephole had misrepresented him. He looked himself, as Daniel knew him to look. Not a child dressed in his grandfather's suit, exactly, but… not unlike that, either.

"Good afternoon, Daniel."

"Good afternoon…" He said it more like a question, but Armand did not seem to pick up on it. He breezed past Daniel despite the door barely being open wide enough and the scent he wore, mothball and vetiver, hung around Daniel's head even as he closed the door behind them and Armand got a good several paces away from him, moving deeper into the apartment.

"Uh…"

"How is unpacking?"

"Well, I've barely started…"

Armand gasped, sweeping towards the mass of wires on the floor surrounding the PC. "Oh, is this a Yomiga?"

"Says right there on the front, doesn't it?"

Armand turned to look over his shoulder as he crouched down in front of it and Daniel regretted his tone.

"Sorry. I'm a little… Technology frustrates me. I'd trade it in for my old typewriter if it didn't have sentimental value."

"I see…" Armand's fingers stroked over the top of the monitor before moving to the keys. It was almost sensual, the way he touched the thing. "Well, I'm a bit of a whiz at the stuff. I could take a crack at it for you."

Something about the offer made Daniel nervous, be it the way the guy was dressed, the strange antiquated way he spoke, or just his general demeanor, Daniel felt much safer steering him away from so precious a machine.

"You know, I'd actually… I'd rather just wait because I think I accidentally packed some of the important bits away in another box and really, I should just wait until-"

He could see Armand surveying all the parts and he moved to his side to draw his attention. "I was actually just about to uh…"

Armand's owlish look threw him back a moment as he got back to his feet, now so much closer to Daniel than was casual or comfortable. "Was I interrupting something?"

"No. Just… Do you want something to drink? Some water or…" He didn't have anything, actually, but water. Tap water, no less. From the tap he rented… from this guy.

Well, not from this guy, but from some property management LLC which this guy was the face of as far as Daniel was concerned.

"I'll take a glass. Sure."

He's got a smile like a constellation though, Daniel thought as he moved away, heading towards the kitchen.

"I haven't checked to see if there's ice," he hollered back in apology.

"Oh, I was sure to make a tray in anticipation of your arrival."

Daniel went for the only glass he'd unpacked so far and washed it quickly in the sink before moving to the freezer. "What if I'd said no to the apartment?"

When he turned around again, Armand was sat at the bar. It made Daniel jump, it was so unexpected. However he'd managed to slip into that chair without all those clothes rustling, Daniel couldn't say. He eyed him as he filled the glass under the tap before sliding it his way.

"I thought that the likelihood of that happening was slim. But if you had decided you preferred the original apartment, you'd have found ice at the ready there, as well."

"How hospitable…"

Daniel leaned over the top of the bar and watched the man grip the glass in both his hands, glancing up at him as if to be sure he was behaving like a human before raising it to his lips. He had a strange way of bending his head at the last moment to meet the rim of the glass before tipping it back. Daniel caught another flash of his eyes as he drank and thought he saw a hint of panic in them.

"Guess you were pretty thirsty," he said, growing slightly concerned as the man's adam's apple bobbed and the sound of his gulping became audible. The ice cubes were clinking as the water level went down and down until finally Armand had cleared it.

He winced as he set the glass back on the bar, his eyes scrunching closed.

"Brain freeze?" Daniel asked.

"Hm?"

"I can get you some more, if you-"

"No. No, that's alright…"

Man, this guy was odd.

"Hydration slips my mind sometimes. I know it's best to drink water throughout the day, but I like to get it all done in one go at designated times, otherwise I may forget entirely. Like my focus on whatever task I'm set on overrides my biological drives until I've clocked out for the day. Well, so to speak. One never really clocks out of this job." He smiled as though Daniel must, of course, understand this. "So I get my fill of water by being regimented. Once in the morning, once in the afternoon, and once before bed."

Daniel laughed, hoping it didn't come across rude. "Doesn't that keep you up all night?"

"How do you mean?"

"You know… Aren't you getting up a lot to pee?"

Armand's eyebrows raised and he cocked his head. "Oh! Well, yes, sometimes, but I'm a bit of a night owl anyway. I don't get much sleep. I'm used to it."

Daniel could forecast it now. The way this guy was running himself ragged all over this building, he was either going to drop from exhaustion or have a mental crisis before the age of forty. "You look rested."

Bashfully he smiled. "I take cat naps throughout the day."

"Cat naps… You manage an entire apartment building and you're finding the time to take cat naps throughout the day?"

"I've an office, Daniel."

"Yeah, I've seen it. You don't even have a sofa in there."

"Who needs a sofa when you can rest your head on your arms?"

"That can't be good for your back."

Armand stared blankly at him and Daniel shook his head, reaching for the glass and filling it just a quarter of the way once more before taking a sip. When he set it down in the sink, Armand's expression was changed.

"What?"

"Nothing. I was only…" He breathed a sigh that ended in a smile. "I was admiring your shirt."

Daniel looked down at it, dubious. "My shirt?" he asked. "This shirt?"

You could hardly make the design out anymore, it was so faded and worn away. A cartoon cat with a distaste for the work week. Daniel couldn't even remember what the speech bubble used to say. Something about Italian food? And then, of course, there were the holes.

"It suits you, I think."

It was so damned hard to tell how he was supposed to take that. "Thanks. I like, uh…" Daniel gestured vaguely at Armand's outfit. "Are you going somewhere special?"

He saw something slip through, a hint of sadness behind the eyes and Armand bit his lip into his mouth for a second before letting it go. Again, he seemed a little lost.

"Like, do you have a date or dinner plans?"

Why was he elaborating? He should not have needed to elaborate. Ordinarily, he had no qualms letting someone hang in the wind, observing how they twisted, taking some dark delight in guessing when their thread would snap and where they would land, but this guy. He just wanted to put him out of his misery as soon as humanly possible.

"I was thinking of taking in… Acapulco Nights. At the Bradford."

"Acapulco Nights? That's been out of theaters for nearly fifteen years, hasn't it?"

Armand's fingers began to fiddle with the cuffs of his sleeves and he seemed to be holding himself back from squirming in his seat. "It's a special screening. One night only."

"You're going alone?"

Daniel didn't date men, but he'd watched plenty of movies with them. He didn't date men, least of all men as strange as this one, but at the same time, he'd done much worse. After all, he wasn't considering a date with Armand. He was considering what he might be given the opportunity to consider after.

"Well, yes…?"

"Do you want to go alone?"

Daniel, this man processes your rent checks…

Armand's discomfort seemed to turn to panic and Daniel regretted himself in an instant.

"I'm sorry. That was forward of me. I-"

Armand wasn't saying anything. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"I just meant, if you were going alone and you wanted company -friendly, or even just… casually acquainted company…"

"No!" Armand spoke at last. It came out of him like an eruption and he went still after, settling himself back into a much more relaxed state, as though he'd released a bit of pressure. "No," he calmly repeated. "It's… sold out, actually. So you wouldn't be able to go if you wanted to. I… bought the last ticket. For myself."

Daniel tried to school his raised eyebrow. "Oh, I see…"

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Sure you don't want some more water? Since it's the midday watering hour?"

A soft smile touched the man's lips. "You're teasing me."

"It is a little strange," Daniel admitted.

"Do you find me strange?"

Exceedingly, but he wasn't gonna go that far. "You're different. But I'm a little different, too. Everyone is, behind closed doors. I admire a person who doesn't hide who they are."

And just as quick, Armand's smile was gone. "You're right. Everyone hides," he said. "Everyone."

---

Daniel capped his marker and closed the book. He'd been charmed enough to sign a hardcover for Santiago, remembering just in time to drop it by the desk before he'd be off work. He'd showered and changed clothes, finally, after wrestling with the Yomiga and throwing in the towel. Armand had given him one more offer before leaving his apartment, but it was becoming a point of pride for Daniel. He'd gotten everything plugged in exactly the way he'd remembered it being at the last place, but the machine simply wouldn't turn on.

Oh well. He supposed, if the mood struck him, he could always write by hand. He still had a stack of composition books and plenty of pens courtesy of one San Casaval Chronicle. A decent gig which had set him up with a severance package consisting of a decade's worth of writing utensils. It was better than nothing. Better than he probably deserved considering the state he was in by the time they'd sacked him.

"I was just beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," Santiago purred as Daniel strolled into the lobby.

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that." He dropped the book onto the desk with a grin.

"Now let's see…" Santiago laid his hand over the cover, stroking the embossed title, Daniel's name in script below, red and foiled so it gave the impression of blood-coated steel. "What a delectable cover."

"You think so? There's a second variant coming out in the winter, I'll have to bring you the advance to look at."

This cover featured a scared looking young man, Christian, with his back pressed against a brick wall in the dead of night, casting a backward glance over his shoulder which draws the eyes of the reader to a far off figure in the shadows with orange glowing eyes. Antonio.

"I can scarcely conceptualize anything better."

"The new variant is supposed to be a bit more suggestive."

"Well, I like suggestive…" Santiago peeked behind the cover to see Daniel's scrawled signature, his little message, just as requested, and smiled up at Daniel before closing it again. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Don't go selling that to the bookstore around the corner, alright?"

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Probably wouldn't get you more than $15, anyway."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short."

Santiago's eyes were on the door and Daniel turned to see a diminutive woman with inky black hair through its glass. She pushed her way through, a fur coat draped over one arm and an overstuffed black leather bag under the other. Her red kitten heels tapped on the granite and Daniel wondered if he was about to meet yet another of the building's impossibly beautiful tenants.

"Eglee, you're late!" Santiago called, standing from his seat.

"I don't want to hear it, old man." She slung her bag and coat over the desk before slamming her palms against it and leaning in. "I've covered for your ass enough times."

What was it with this building and attracting the French? Daniel eyed her, the little rolls of hair that sat above her temples, her blunt and bountiful fringe, the bright red lipstick she wore and the…

"Is that a corset?" Santiago asked, seeming to forget the browbeating he was either giving or receiving, Daniel hadn't quite been sure how that was shaking out. "Oh, Eglee, what are you going to do if a vagrant makes trouble at the door? Flog them?"

"I just might." She glared at him. "A session ran long, it couldn't be helped. What is that?" She pointed to the novel. "Since when do you read pulp trash?"

Daniel cleared his throat and Santiago chuckled.

"Eglee, this is our newest tenant." He swept his hand towards Daniel. "Mr. Molloy."

Eglee glanced his way, then back down at the cover of the book, her mouth popping open with surprise. "Oh!"

"Don't worry, I'm not offended," Daniel said with a casual shrug. "It's not everyone's genre."

"Another one," Eglee said to Santiago. "A whole building full of attractive men and women in their thirties. At what point does it begin to feel a little die-cut?"

"That's precisely what I said," Santiago agreed. "The boss assured me it wasn't by design, but between you and me…" He leaned forward, his face now inches from Eglee's. "And, our new friend," he added with a wink, "I think he's absolutely incensed that Those Who Must Be Kept haven't kicked the bucket yet. I think he can't wait for the day they croak so he can fill the penthouse with a colony of young underwear models."

Eglee's eyes crinkled as she laughed. "You know," she stage whispered. "I think you're right." She bent in just a touch closer and bumped her nose against Santiago's before standing straight up. "Well! You're free, now. Free to go catting around Mary's, no doubt, taking home wayward vagabonds with pin cushions for arms."

Daniel's ears grew a little hot. At one time or another, that description might've fit him to a T. And just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt Santiago's eyes rake him over. He felt a bit naked.

"Have a good night, Mr. Molloy," Santiago said, taking up the book and raising it into the air. "And thank you, again. I think I'll enjoy my evening in for a change."

He gathered his jacket and swept around them, heading towards the door.

"Goodnight, Eglee!" he hollered without looking back.

"Bon nuit!" She glided behind the desk and hung her coat over the back of the chair. "You aren't planning to hang around the lobby all night, are you?"

"Me?" Daniel asked stupidly. He'd almost forgotten he existed, the two of them had been so dynamic to watch. He'd felt like a spectator, like a non-player.

"Do you see anyone else around?"

"I was just coming down to drop off that book."

She snorted a little when she laughed.

Cute.

"You may be his type, but Santiago doesn't mess around with tenants. You're barking up the wrong tree."

Daniel was starting to wonder if he'd taken on a smell or something. Had he rolled in a bed of petunias and forgotten somehow?

"I wasn't barking," he said in weak defense of himself.

"Oh?" She rested her chin in her palm as she stared up at him. "You look like you bark."

Daniel scoffed. The corset and the kitten heels and the blood red lips and tips… They did make his knees feel a little magnetized to the floor. "I mean, maybe if you asked nicely."

"I don't do anything 'nicely', Mr. Molloy." She smiled.

Nice.

"Well, that's just perfect because I'm not really all that into nice."

"Is that right?"

"In fact, I feel a lot safer knowing we've got someone like you manning the door after lock-up."

"Manning?" she repeated with indignation.

"You know what I mean. Or maybe you could teach me better sometime…"

She laughed. A monosyllabic 'HAH!' and bit the tip of one long, pointed red fingernail between her teeth as she looked him up and down. Her eyes narrowed. "This is not the place," she said. "If you want to hire me privately, you'll have to make an appointment."

Daniel wasn't sure if they were speaking in metaphor anymore. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed nervously. "Um…"

"Would you like my card?"

"Your card?"

"My business card. Est-ce que tu as du coton dans les oreilles?"

"What's it for? Private security?"

She muttered something in French, rolling her eyes as she pulled her large bag towards her and rifled through it. Daniel watched as she came up with a gold-edged business card that shone a little under the lights overhead. He took it.

"Mistress E…"

"My number is on the back."

It all clicked, then, and Daniel nearly jumped back a hop. "OH! You're a-"

"Shh!" She grabbed his wrist and wrenched it, pulling is arm taught and forcing him to stoop down a little. "Discretion is appreciated."

When she let go of him the indentations of her fingernails were left in his skin and he drew his arm up to his chest, soothing it with his other hand.

"Sorry. I just… wow. I mean, I don't pay. But that's… that's cool."

She rolled her eyes.

"I mean, it's nice to see a woman taking charge and enterprising, you know?"

"Were you heading back to your apartment, Mr. Molloy?" She gave him a smile that tacitly implied her patience with him was wearing thin.

"Out of curiosity-"

"Even the satisfaction of your curiosity comes at a cost, I'm afraid."

"Okay… And the cost?"

She openly glared at him. "$150."

Oh.

"Well, like I said, I don't pay, but that's good to know. Mind if I keep this?" He flicked the card up between his two fingers. "Maybe I can pass it along to someone who needs their privates secured."

He was sure he saw a glint of amusement in her eye, maybe even a held-back chuckle.

"Do what you want with it," she said. "No more free abuse for you." She waved him off dismissively and he could not help but obey.

He pressed the button for the elevator and made a point to turn in her direction while he waited for it.

"I can feel you staring," she said as she dug through her bag and pulled out a little black book.

"Just waiting for the elevator."

"Chienne stupide," he heard her mutter just before the ding.

---

Daniel tossed the card onto the coffee table and went to the Yomiga on the floor, standing with his hands on his hips. He sighed and collapsed onto the floor, his tongue pinched between his teeth in determination as he unplugged the monitor, plugged it back in, and pressed the power button.

To his shock, the screen lit up blue. The sound of the fan inside the contraption began to whir and he sat back on his palms.

"No fucking way…"

He needed to get it off the carpet if he didn't want the thing to overheat. He'd set up his writing desk already, a cheap little thing he'd had since college, but it was sleek and it folded and transported easily. He dragged it over to the Yomiga and took a deep breath before bending his knees and hefting the thing up all in one go. Just as he managed to get it onto the desktop without unplugging any of the wires, a knock came at his door.

"For fucks sake," he grumbled. The nag for nicotine was in full force coming off the adrenaline high of having met the stirring Mistress E and he had to school it back lest he found himself actually barking at whoever this mystery guest turned out to be, or worse. Lest he bite.

"A housewarming gift!"

Louis stood outside his apartment with two bottles of wine held up in the air.

"Oh…"

"I didn't know if you preferred white or red, so I…" He'd pressed in, leaning his head past the doorway and sweeping his gaze around. "Wow…"

"Well," Daniel sighed. "Come on in."

"I'm not imposing?"

"Not at all." Just a little. "I just got my computer up and running and I was thinking about playing a little Pioneer's Plight to see how many times I can die from dysentery. So far, it's the only use I've found for the clunker." He closed the door after them and followed Louis in. "I can't have more than a glass, by the way. I'm on scout's honor."

Louis whirled around, his face falling. "Oh… Shit, I'm sorry. I should've-"

"It's alright. I didn't really talk much about myself over breakfast." Daniel caught the wince and kicked himself mentally. He hadn't meant that to be a dig. "I just… It wasn't booze, so don't worry. I try to keep my head screwed on, though, you know. Picked a place near a park where I don't know the fake names of any of the trenchcoated ne'er-do-wells. But of course, it's fast friends with my sort."

"Still, I'm sorry I didn't think to-"

"Don't sweat it." Daniel moved to the kitchen, ducking behind the bar. "I finished unpacking my glassware this afternoon and as luck would have it…" He stood up with a pair of wine glasses in hand. "Two survived the move."

They opened the bottle of red and left the white in the fridge to chill. Daniel cleared some unpacked boxes from the sectional so they'd have a place to sit and switched off the color changing lights under the glass coffee table.

"Hey, turn those back on. I think they're cool."

Daniel laughed. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Sets a mood."

Daniel didn't want to admit that he, himself, found them a little cool. He leaned forward and flipped them back on before handing the remote to the entertainment center across the couch to Louis.

"Here. You know how to work this thing?"

"You mean you haven't sat down to figure it out yet?"

Daniel shrugged and sipped from his glass. "I'm not a tech guy and new gadgets intimidate me."

Louis fiddled with the thick pad of buttons. "Let's see here…" He aimed it at the stereo and pressed the biggest reddest button. The light blinked blue.

"Well look at that," Daniel said encouragingly. "Wanna put something on?"

"You have music?"

Daniel set his glass down and moved from the couch to his knees by a milk crate on the floor full of records. He began flipping through them.

"What's your poison? I've got PUL, OND, EBC… I've got Thee Thee, Walk Walk, Folyrock…"

"Whatever you think, Daniel. I'm not picky."

"I have another crate around here somewhere that's more jazzy, if that's your flavor."

Louis laughed. "My flavor?"

Fuck.

Daniel turned his way, sheepishly. "I just meant-"

"Daniel, it's fine. Put whatever you want on."

Daniel pulled out EBC's The Glossary of Love and unsheathed it. He went to the record player and lifted the lid. "Can't wait to see how these speakers sound."

"They look expensive."

Daniel agreed. They looked suspiciously expensive for someone to have just left behind. He lowered the needle and closed the lid, stepping back to look at the entertainment center as a whole.

"You said you never really heard the tenant who lived here?" He turned to face Louis as the first notes fell around them and Louis raised the volume a couple of levels.

"No. I mean, almost never. Like I said, I heard footsteps now and then. But you'd think with a setup like this I'd have heard them throwing parties or watching movies too loud…"

Right. It was strange. Daniel returned to his seat and took up his glass again, noticing that Louis was nearly finished with his. Daniel had barely made a dent. "That jet-setting life, I guess."

"I guess." Louis smirked. "So, since I took up your entire morning talking about my ex, maybe I should give you the floor to talk a little about yourself."

"You sure you want to know? It's kind of a bummer."

"Tell me where you're from at least. Your accent isn't quite New Graven."

"My accent? Jesus, everyone in this building is inexplicably French, British, or… well, Southern."

"That's why you stick out," Louis said.

"San Casaval. If you catch me disrespecting my r's, let me know. I'm trying to fit in."

Louis finished his first glass and got up to pour himself a second. Daniel turned his head, following him with his eyes. His hips swayed when he walked and Daniel wondered if it was the glass of wine already sunk in him. When he came back, he brought the bottle along.

"So, San Casaval. And college?"

"San Casaval," Daniel answered guiltily. "I thought for the longest time that I'd be a hopeless townie forever. The most notable thing about me would be my headshot and name printed under the columns I could barely stand by the content of."

"But you got out."

"Well… After two stints in rehab, a failed engagement, and the publishing of a book I barely remember writing."

"Sounds like a story to me."

"Yeah, too bad I was so strung out for most of it I can't remember how the story goes."

"That what broke the engagement?"

Another, heftier sip of wine. "In part. I was an asshole. She shopped my book around for me without me knowing, went and got me a publishing deal, and I repaid her by relapsing and letting some goth chick I met in a bar shoot me up and suck me off in our apartment while she was visiting her sister. She found me out cold with my arm still tied off and a black lipstick ring around my dick the next morning."

"Jesus…"

Daniel couldn't tell if the look he saw on Louis' face was sympathy, disgust, or a mix of the two. He only knew he didn't like it, but it turned to a smile before he could land on anything more concrete than that.

"We've all got our baggage," Daniel said. "I just wear mine on my arms."

Louis leaned forward and took his wrist in hand. He lifted Daniel's arm out and away, inspecting him before gently letting him go.

"I hadn't noticed until you pointed it out."

There was a cluster of little injection site scars in the pit of his elbow, a few trails following the veins down his arm, stopping a good four inches from his wrist.

"Yeah, but once you do…"

Louis shrugged. "I might've chalked it up to vampires."

He could smell Louis' cologne. Something heady and sexy and intentional that lingered as Louis settled back into the sectional. The lilt in his voice was beginning to sound like a purr in Daniel's ears. It came on stronger with the wine.

"Maybe a second glass won't hurt," he said, polishing off his first.

---

Daniel had done his level best to nurse that second glass while Louis polished off the bottle and moved on to the chilled white.

"So that's Madeleine, Lestat, Santiago, Armand…"

Louis set his nearly emptied glass down on the coffee table and Daniel regarded his own, the buzz in his veins, and followed suit.

"And I just met Eglee. Had to drop off a signed copy of the book for Santiago in the lobby as they were changing shifts."

"It's only your second night and you're already bribing reception?" Louis teased, pulling his legs up onto the couch underneath him and looking far more at home than even Daniel had managed to feel in the new space so far.

"It wasn't a bribe. He asked me for a copy."

"So that's all it takes?"

"Do you want one?" He gestured to the open box of hardcovers. "Feel free."

Louis bit his lip, taming a smile. "Remind me before I go."

"I'll even sign it for you. You can give it to someone it'll impress when you're done with it. Your mother, maybe. Just give me her name."

Daniel saw Louis flinch a little.

"Or someone else," he amended. "A friend or a cousin, maybe. A sibling…"

"Or," Louis said, regaining himself and inching closer on the sectional, "you can just make it out to your dear neighbor, Louis de Pointe du Lac…"

"Or I could do that…"

"The keeper of your spare key, spare egg, cup of sugar and fondness. All the best; renowned published author, Daniel Molloy."

Daniel'd forgotten to breathe as it appeared, like wine spilled on a table cloth, that Louis was spreading, moving closer, so smooth as to seem nearly imperceptible.

"I could do that…" he managed, nearly stuttering. "Might need to wait until I find my smokes so my hand's nice and steady."

Louis gave him an odd look.

"What?"

"That the only thing to come up missing recently?"

Daniel shrugged. "Well, I just moved in. The place is in shambles with half unpacked boxes."

He watched Louis scan his eyes around the room, the troubled look remaining.

"Why?"

"No reason."

"Bullshit."

Louis' eyes met his again and he put on a smile. "I always sound crazy to myself when I say it out loud."

"You're talking to a guy who wrote a book he barely remembers writing. I'll reserve my judgment."

Louis closed the distance between them so that his knees were touching the outside of Daniel's thigh. "Do you believe in ghosts, Danny?"

That was an easy question to answer. He and Alice had gone round and round about it so many times in their relationship, to the point that it'd become a sore subject.

"No."

"Neither do I. S'why this building scares me sometimes."

It was difficult to tell if Louis was having him on or not, but Daniel wanted to see where it lead either way. "Alright, I'll bite."

"You think I'm fucking with you?" Louis laughed a little with some nerves underneath. "I'm not. I'm completely serious."

"Okay," Daniel nodded, affecting his own completely serious tone. "Like I said, I'll bite."

Crawling yet closer and extending one long leg across Daniel's lap, Louis placed the flat of his palm against his chest as if to impress just how dire the thing he was about to say was. Daniel wondered if he'd feel his heartbeat speeding up.

"I've had things go missing only to turn up a week later in the exact place I could've sworn I'd left them. The first place I looked, you know? The place I kept looking, feeling like I was going to lose my mind…"

Daniel nodded, his own wide eyes locked onto Louis', drinking in the intensity of him. This was happening.

"Bottles of cologne, combs, scarves… Sometimes there's a humming sound I cant find the source of." His fingers clutched into Daniel's shirt, gripping him as he slid himself over his thighs, trembling so that Daniel could feel it. "Sometimes…" His second hand twisted into Daniel's shirt. "Sometimes, I think I hear the walls breathing…"

Daniel's eyes landed on Louis' lips, dragging all the way down to where his hands were gripped into the fabric of his shirt, and then back up before he placed his own on Louis' waist.

"It's an old building, I've been told," he whispered.

Louis' body was hot and his eyes were hungry and a moment later, Daniel was tasting him. They kissed with the entirety of their bodies, their hips grinding while Daniel squeezed and Louis left his shirt for his shoulders, his neck, his hair.

A dozen thoughts flit through Daniel's head, too fast for him to pluck any one and hold it longer than a second. He pushed Louis back and his words came out garbled.

"Is this- Should we… Bed?"

Laughing, Louis bent forward for Daniel's neck, nipping his stubble-gritty skin between his teeth light enough not to hurt or mark, but hard enough to make Daniel tense and groan.

"What's the rush?" Louis asked in his ear. "I like a little foreplay."

Foreplay… What was foreplay for two guys? Was Daniel going to have to pull out the big guns? Whispering sweet nothings, stroking hair, making grand promises? Seemed a bit much for what would likely amount -what should amount- to a one-off thing. At the very least, a thing that had to remain casual and discreet. They shared a building with Louis' ex after all. Furthermore, they shared several walls. Panic hadn't the time to set in before Louis was grabbing his wrists and forcing his hands up under his shirt, pressing the skin of Daniel's palms to his own, hot and wanting.

Foreplay… Maybe that was just anything that came before they did…

"So, do you want me to… I could give you head for a while," Daniel suggested, nerves making his voice rattle a bit.

"God, maybe you are straight," Louis teased before licking the shell of his ear and moving his fingers down to the button of Daniel's fly. He worked it open roughly and tugged his zipper down.

They moved in concert, Louis raising up on his knees, Daniel lifting his hips, and then Louis' hand was shoved into his jeans, gripping him through his boxers to get a feel.

"Goddamn, boy…"

Goddamn, indeed. Louis squeezed him and Daniel became desperate to get it out. His jeans had grown uncomfortably tight before half of Louis' forearm had been shoved into them.

"Up," he directed and Louis squeezed him again, leaning back and biting his lip, looking pained to have to part with the thing for even a second. "Come on," Daniel commanded, "you wanna see it, right?"

That got him to retreat. He wobbled a little as he attempted to get up from Daniel's lap and Daniel had to reach out to steady him lest he fall back and shatter the coffee table.

"I'm good, I'm good," Louis assured him, arms out to stabilize himself.

Daniel kept an eye on him as he pushed himself up from the sectional. He lifted his shirt off in one quick move before grabbing the hem of Louis', nodding for him to raise his arms. Once again, he had to grip the man's waist to keep him from stumbling after it was cast aside and he pulled him in, kissing him and pressing their chests and bellies close

Louis rocked his hips forward, hooking his fingers into Daniel's beltloops and breaking the kiss to tug him clumsily towards the bedroom.

"Easy," Daniel warned, grabbing one of his hands for safety's sake and taking the lead.

They fell to kissing again just past the bar and once more, Louis' hand was slipping down the front of Daniel's jeans. It knocked him off balance and sent him thudding against the wall for support.

"Can't keep you off the thing, can I?" Daniel teased as Louis' hand slipped under his boxers this time and found him.

"Think it's the biggest I've ever felt."

It didn't sound like flattery, but Daniel was used to that reaction. "Yeah, just wait until…"

Shit.

"Wait until what?" Louis asked, drunk and horny eyes going lidded as he began sinking to his knees.

Daniel pulled him up by the elbows. "I don't think I have any rubbers…"

Louis pulled his hand back out, making Daniel whine for the lost contact, and reached into his pocket to produce a foil square between two fingers. "What luck."

Seemed a little dangerous to consider that Louis had planned for all this, so Daniel elected not to.

"Well, that's a relief," he said with a grin, plucking the condom from him and taking his hand once more. He pushed off the wall and continued the trudge towards the bed. He looked over his shoulder when he arrived alone to see Louis paused, pressed against the doorway with his forehead resting on the jamb. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were closed as if in concentration.

"You good?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah, just need a second for the room to stop spinning. You go ahead and get out of those jeans for me…"

Daniel began to shove the denim past his hips, but there was a sour pit beginning to form in his gut. He hesitated, then stopped.

"Louis…"

Giggling, Louis pushed himself off the jamb and swayed a moment before opening his eyes and landing them on Daniel. He got his bearings and approached. "Leaving it to me? That's thoughtful of you."

Daniel stood, condom still pinched between his first and second fingers as Louis met him in front of the bed. He wrapped his arms around Daniel's shoulders and Daniel felt the pull of his weight, as though he were being used to support it. Then they were tugged sideways, the two of them falling onto the waterbed, creating a contained tidal wave inside the massive bladder of a thing that rocked them back and forward, back and forward, Louis' lips clamped suddenly over Daniel's, kissing him sloppily and moaning into him, almost making Daniel forget his concern until the moaning, itself, turned sour.

"Fuck… Fuck, no, gonna puke…"

They were a tangled mass of scrambling limbs in their fight to clamor off the waving mattress. The end result had Daniel on his elbows and knees, Louis on his back, eyes tracing something unseen on the ceiling, around and around like he was following a racehorse on a track.

"Shit," Daniel grumbled. He needed to act fast if Louis was going to be sick. He grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him onto his side. "Think you can make it to the bathroom if we stand up?"

"It's gonna pass. It'll pass…"

Had it hit Louis all at once or was it the Southern drawl that masked the slurring? It made him feel like a sleaze for missing the signs. Sure, Louis had come prepared, but maybe he wouldn’t have followed through if he hadn't been so far gone.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. Come on," Daniel coached as he helped to lift him to his feet. Luckily, Louis was fairly light and his slender waist was easy to grip onto and keep steady.

Daniel steered him into the bathroom, got him to the toilet, and helped him kneel. He lifted the lid and began stroking the man's back.

"That's nice," Louis said, managing to put that seductive purr back into his voice.

"Lean over it," Daniel commanded.

The instant Louis did, he was sick. Daniel grimaced, looking away. He buried his nose in his shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut, keeping his own gorge down through determination and grit as the last of Louis' liquid dinner splashed into the bowl.

Louis folded his arms on the cool porcelain seat and bent his head to rest on them. "This is humiliating," he stated.

"C'mon, man, lift up." Daniel pulled him back by the shoulders before leaning to flush and closing the lid.

When he let go again, Louis laid his cheek on the seat and sighed. "I'm sorry. It snuck up on me. Always does. Never learn…"

Daniel sighed, patting him soothingly on the upper back and letting himself fall back onto his butt, leaning back against the wall. "It's probably for the best, all things considered."

A burst of disappointed air left Louis. "Throwing in the towel, Molloy?"

"You just puked, Louis…"

"Yeah, it's out of my system."

Daniel didn't know if he should be horrified or laugh until Louis did.

"You're going to feel better tomorrow, at least. For having thrown it all up, for all the water I'm gonna make you chug before tucking you in, and for not fucking your nextdoor neighbor on his second night in the building. Hang tight."

He left Louis there, confident that he wouldn't try to get up, but worrying the entire journey from the bathroom to where they'd left their shirts that he'd hear the resounding clunk of skull hitting porcelain and find himself in a somehow worse pinch.

Luckily, Louis was just fine, his own back against the wall when Daniel returned, fully clothed once more and holding out Louis' shirt to him.

"The hits just keep coming, huh?"

"Put it on. I'll take you back to yours and we'll have some water."

Daniel waited for Louis to get into his shirt before hefting him up and walking him back to his apartment. He stood over him as he drank down an entire glass of room temperature water, taking in the differences between their apartments. Louis' was still modern, but much less flashy. When the glass was emptied, Daniel watched him wash his face, brush his teeth, and brought him to his bed.

"Stay," Louis said, his hand reaching out for Daniel's arm as he went to stand from the edge of Louis' bed.

"I shouldn't."

"Not like that. I just…"

"Louis, I gotta get settled in my own place. I'm still trying to get used to that waterbed. Trust me, you're not going to want to see this mug first thing in the morning when you wake."

"You don't know that," Louis muttered, sounding half asleep already. "Maybe not seeing it will make me feel even more like a fool."

"You work tomorrow?"

"Gonna call in."

"Good. I'll check in in the morning." Daniel gave him a light pat on the cheek. "Don't wet the bed," he said as he got to his feet.

"So that's why you don't wanna stay. The truth comes out..."

Daniel laughed. "Good night, Louis."

He was sure he heard Louis return his goodnight, but it was slurred, half-eaten by the onset of sleep.

In his own apartment, as he prepared himself for bed, he shut out the visions of Louis, the memory in his skin of how he felt pressed against it. It wasn't until he was in bed, the gentle rocking and the warmth, that the flood of desire really hit him full force.

He'd never turned anyone away for being too loaded before. Were the circumstances here really that different?

Yes. Obviously they were. He had to see Louis' face, in passing at the very least, possibly every day. He had to anticipate encountering the man's ex in the elevator from time to time. It was a capital B Bad Idea. No matter how hot it got him to consider it.

And it was hot. Unignorably hot, now, for the way the bed was swaying with him, making him want to roll onto his belly and…

Or maybe if he stayed like this, on his back… If he pictured the man on top of him, riding him with his head thrown back, letting the roll of the bed do the work, languishing in it, moving slow…

People probably jerked off to their neighbors all the time in this building, Daniel reasoned.

I mean…

Notes:

#Thunder_Puss-typical-vomiting-content

Chapter 3: it's not like I'm thinking about my next situation already

Summary:

An exodus, a knock of shame, and some lost pins.

"You said, and I quote, 'anything for you, mon cher. Whatever you need of me.'"

"And forgive me for assuming that if my services were called upon that you might be receptive to some good morning loving."

"I told you last night-"

"I'm shocked you remember anything you said last night, tu étais tellement ivre."

"Why don't you take your stupid silk pants and get the fuck out!"

Daniel pulled his ear back from the wall when he heard the heavy stomping of feet coming towards the doorway of Louis' apartment. He moved swiftly to the peephole, watching the hall as he heard the door swing open. He saw Lestat, still clamoring to get into the aforementioned silk pajama pants, the buttons of his top all askew, and his bare ass in Daniel's field of vision, pale but well-toned and only visible for a moment before both legs were in the right place and the garment was drawn up and over it.

"I recall that I had a pair of slippers, Louis!" he bellowed, turning to face the door. A second later a pair of matching silk slippers hit him, one in the chin, one in the chest before the door slammed closed.

"Et je suis celui du théâtre…"

Daniel could not have been more relieved to have woken when he had, to not have made an ass of himself by knocking on Louis' door the night after their failed hookup only to be met with the man's ex.

There was relief and then there was a bitter jealousy. It must not have been long after he'd left Louis' apartment that Lestat had been called up in his place. Maybe a spur of the moment drunk decision, though Daniel found that a little hard to believe. By the time he was leaving Louis' side, the man did not seem to be in the mood any longer. Perhaps he'd just felt lonely. Perhaps Daniel should have stayed after all. But maybe if he kept his word about checking on him, knocked on the door and played innocent to the spat he'd just witnessed (eavesdropped on, really) then maybe he wouldn't have to consider it a sunk ship after all.

He gave it ten minutes, pulling on some fresh clothes and brushing his teeth before gathering his courage to knock.

The door swung dramatically open. "What'd I tell you-"

"Morning…"

Louis' eyes squinted as if he didn't recognize Daniel and then he sighed. "Oh. Right…"

"Sorry. I imagine you're feeling a little-"

"Yep."

"I didn't come to bug you, just to check on you like I said I would. Are you-"

"Uh-huh." It was clipped and Daniel's heart sank.

"Listen," he said. "If you want to just forget about the whole-"

"Have you had coffee?"

Daniel took a beat to take him in. He did look miserable, his hair was sticking up a little wild on one side of his head and he was in nothing but a loose fitting t-shirt and some striped boxers. He didn't look irritated with him, on second thought.

"You, uh…" Daniel lifted up onto the balls of his feet for a moment, looking over Louis' shoulder and into his apartment, the first time he'd seen it in the sunshine. "Inviting me in?"

"I'm trying to." Louis swung the door wider and turned to lead the way.

Daniel shrugged to himself and gently shut the door behind him.

 

 

---

 

 

The first thing Daniel noticed about Louis' apartment was that it was not nearly as modern looking as his own. Be it the furnishing, the decor, or a mix of all of it. There was art hanging on the walls, but no photographs, and the pieces that were hung seemed to have gaps between them that made little sense unless…

Unless…

The breakup must have been rough, Daniel thought to himself. He idly wondered if Lestat had taken all the photos and if they were hanging, now, in his apartment.

Louis didn't have a coffee pot, he had an espresso machine. A Gorgio Baby in sleek red which Daniel's own mother had coveted for years, always sure to remind Daniel's father around anniversaries and birthdays of its existence and always disappointed when, instead, she received another sterling tennis bracelet or another piece of crockware.

"That thing's impressive," Daniel said, sipping his Americano while watching Louis fight with it to produce another shot.

"Impressive? It's a piece of junk, clearly." He walloped the side which set the thing to hissing and, at last, spitting out more bubbling hot fluid, thick as tar into Louis' mug. "Didn't even want the thing. I was just fine with the little 8-cup coffee pot I had but Lestat took one trip to Italy with his dance troupe and-"

"Oh, he dances?"

"What, you haven't seen him pirouetting across the lobby to get his mail?"

Daniel laughed, not sure if it was a joke or not, but finding the image amusing either way.

"Give it time. You just moved in, after all."

Since they were on the subject of Lestat…

"So, uh… You and he…?"

Louis grimaced as the machine made a most undignified sound, belching out the last sputters of espresso. He grabbed the carton of milk he'd set out for himself and filled the mug the rest of the way before glancing over the top of it at Daniel with a raised eyebrow.

"I heard you throwing him out this morning," Daniel admitted sheepishly. Not five minutes in and he'd given himself up.

"It wasn't what it sounded like."

"I didn't say what it sounded like…"

The two of them sipped their drinks, waiting for the other to clarify before Louis broke.

"It wasn't like I called him over to do the job you wouldn't, Daniel…"

"I wasn't looking at it like that. You were a little more drunk than I'd realized and I just-"

"And you've got integrity," Louis interrupted. "And I appreciate that." He took another sip, his eyes finding an interesting patch of carpet to glance away to. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for that. I wasn't exactly keen to scrub vomit out of the carpet, either. It wasn't all integrity."

"Well, however you wanna spin it, I'm glad. It was for the best."

Daniel hoped he'd covered the falter of his smile in time. When he looked back up to Louis, their eyes were meeting again. "Suppose it would have been an awkward foot to get off on."

"If I'd been able to keep my feet under me long enough to get off," Louis joked.

"It wouldn't have been wise."

"Suppose not," Louis agreed.

"We'd end up avoiding each other in the halls," Daniel theorized out loud. "I wouldn't be able to give you that signed copy of my book."

"Ah, shit! I forgot!"

"Don't worry about it. Got a copy with your name on it. Well… not yet, but I'll have it to you before the day's over." He finished off his mug and set it on the counter.

"I didn't invite Lestat over to sleep with him," Louis said as though he'd only needed the subject to change for a while to gather his courage.

"Okay." Daniel nodded. "I believe you." Hard for him not to feel a little of his hope rekindling.

"Like I told you last night, I get spooked sometimes. Like I'm being watched and listened to. Like there's some presence. You took care of me, put me to bed, and after you left, I was still… You know, you'd gotten me pretty worked up."

Daniel was beginning to regret setting his empty mug down. Now his hands had nothing to fiddle with. He crossed his arms over his stomach, sucking his cheeks in between his teeth and biting down before feeling bold enough to nod his head. "Uh huh. Yeah. I was a little, uh… worked up, myself…"

"Sometimes, when I'm alone… When I'm alone," Louis restated meaningfully and Daniel read him loud and clear, "I tell myself I don't care. If there's some spirit or some kind of entity watching me, so be it. So what. Why should I care? It doesn't change anything about my life…"

Well, he'd lost Daniel, there. "You're saying you… What are you saying?"

"Lestat laughed. Promise me you won't laugh?"

Nothing Daniel hated more than a pre-emptive promise, but Louis was a neighbor, not a lover. Not by the margin of a hair, anyway. Still, he agreed. "I won't laugh. Promise."

"I get by telling myself it's a spirit if not my own delusion, right? That's how I cope with it. But after I'm done, I can't turn the thoughts off that it's a person. That it's someone… I know. Someone I interact with whose got some secret, psychic link to me either through magic or through cosmic happenstance and it makes me feel insane, but I can't stop thinking it. Laying there with my own… laying there cooling down… and feeling watched…"

Daniel sucked in a breath. "Yeah," he said. "That's heavy."

"Lestat, for all his faults, he does make the the feeling go away. It comes on so strong at night…"

"Well, you know I'm right next door. I signed a year long lease, so…"

Louis smiled and, despite his hangover, it radiated. "Thanks. And I'm sorry I invited myself over and tried to climb into your pants."

"Hey, we're neighbors after all. A day will come when I really do need that cup of sugar."

"Not quite the same thing, but alright," Louis laughed.

"You were being neighborly." Daniel gave a casual shrug. "Wasn't much more than a handshake, when you think about it."

Louis gave him a scrutinizing look and a playful cock of the head.

"You know, in that you got your hand around it and then you started to shake..." Daniel jumped back to dodge Louis' leg when it swiped out to give him a light kick. "Hey! Just trying to save you some embarrassment here."

"Reminding me of that thing you're carrying around isn't gonna do much to help cool my jets..."

Yes, yes, good. For once you're not lighting a match to find yourself in a room full of dynamite…

"Maybe I don't want you to." Daniel took his mug back up and went to the sink to rinse it out, another show of manners he did not ordinarily have such a good grip on. "Maybe I like the idea of having a little sexual tension with the hot guy next door whose boyfriend might kick my ass if he finds out."

"He might. And he's got a dancer's legs…"

 

 

---

 

 

Daniel felt that the moment he'd chosen to extract himself from Louis' apartment had been exactly the right one. If the goal was always to leave them wanting more, and if the way Louis had bit his lip when Daniel turned to say bye one more time on his way out the door was anything to go by, he'd have to say that he'd hit it. There were many irons in this fire, and he'd effectively struck while this one was hot.

He had a spring in his step and, on the subject of irons in the fire, he began to feel as though he had a few ideas percolating for his follow-up to The Devil's Minion. He decided a quick walk around the block, a little sunshine and some fresh air, might do him good and help him tease the thoughts out. A walk and a think.

Yeah, just what I need…

"Off to run some errands?"

He'd almost just made it to the door when Santiago's resonating bellow stopped him.

"Thought you hadn't seen me," Daniel said, pivoting and making his way back to the desk where the man sat -and where he'd previously had his head bent over Daniel's book, unmoving and without acknowledging when Daniel swept past him.

Now, Santiago was placing his bookmark and closing the book. "Oh, you must've known I'd want to pick your brain a bit."

"How far did you get?"

"It's just been revealed to Christian that he owns the private resort they're staying in on the island. The island as well. He's panicked, threatening to run away again and accusing poor Antonio of using him to launder his blood money."

"Ah." Daniel nodded, fingering a curl at the back of his neck. "So, what do you think?"

"It's a lot of fun. I do hope they make up this time."

"They always do, don't they?"

"Yes, but perhaps this time, they will work it out between the sheets…?"

There was sort of this thing, this little narrative failsafe that only existed in Daniel's addled mind as he'd plunked the thing out. Almost like a secret he kept with himself. His vampires didn't fuck. Didn't have any use for it. They got their thrills in the blood. And so, Antonio and Christian didn't have sex. There were lots of times where they came close, where Daniel walked them right up to the edge of it. They certainly kissed a lot. Christian had plenty of sex while Antonio watched, and Daniel never really clarified what the rules were and why, all of it was implicit. It was a criticism he got often. That he was just a heterosexual man tapping into and taking advantage of an overlooked demographic. That might've been a little true. It sometimes felt true. But honestly, Daniel could scarcely remember his motivations at the time he'd written the book.

"Who knows," he said with a shrug. "Keep reading and see."

"Reading," A voice echoed. "Always reading on the job…"

Daniel's head swiveled to see Armand stood at the base of the stairs. However it was that he'd managed to descend them without making a sound, Daniel could not be sure. He was dressed sharply if a little unfashionably. The fit of his suit was much snugger than the modern standard, a stark contrast to the last outfit Daniel'd seen him in. The hem of his pants showed his dress socks, his slender ankles and-

No, Daniel… You are not about to lose your cool over another man's ankles…

"Now, does it look like I haven't got my eyes and ears out?" Santiago turned his attention back to Daniel. "He's got a stick up his ass because my copy is personalized."

"Oh. I could sign yours too if you want," Daniel offered Armand as the man's feet tapped against the floor, soft and unimposing while he made his way to the desk. The man had the lightest, most graceful step. Like he was floating. The nearer he drew, the better Daniel could see that he looked like he hadn't slept. He was haggard.

"I wouldn't want to disrupt your day," Armand said with a polite smile as he took an item he'd had wedged under his arm and placed it on the desk.

"What's this?" asked Santiago.

"I've updated the resident directory."

"Lovely." Santiago swept it into the top drawer of the desk and smiled at Armand. "So I can call up Mr. Molloy here when I've questions about the plot."

"That would go against your contract," Armand stated flatly.

Santiago shot Daniel a look like 'can you believe this guy?' but Daniel's attention was already back on Armand, dropping down to the floor where two pins fell, their emerald green heads clattering so faintly.

"Shedding your quills again, Maître?" Santiago asked snidely. "Is that the suit Madeleine was working on for you?"

Armand bent to pick the pins off the floor, tucking them away into his pocket and looking embarrassed. "One of them. She was quite cross when I left her apartment before she could make the stitches. I promised her I would keep her pins in place."

Santiago tsked. "She'll have your head."

"Yes. Well…"

"You look like you had a late night," Daniel butted in, meaning well but inadvertently turning the topic from one embarrassing subject to another.

Armand looked pensive. "A restless one."

"How was the movie?"

"Movie?" Armand's head cocked to the side. "Oh! Yes. It was… transcendent. I was up very late in contemplation."

Daniel nodded. "Cool. I'll have to watch it again, I guess. I don't remember it being much of a thinker. That's the one about the two middle aged couples vacationing together and the husbands make an ill advised bet about seducing each other's wives, right?"

Armand blinked, though his expression did not change. "Yes."

"Hey, uh… I was about to take a walk around the block, do you want me to grab you a coffee or something? You've been so helpful, the move has been so seamless and I really appreciate the upgrade even if it was sort of last minute…"

A slow smile touched Armand's lips and his eyes blinked wide. "Yes. I would appreciate that very much. That's very kind of you, Daniel."

Santiago repeated him in mock fashion under his breath and Daniel and Armand each did their best to ignore it.

"Great. Yeah. I'll… If you're not in the lobby when I get back, where can I find you?"

"In my office. I'll just be in my office."

Daniel nodded. "Cool. Cool."

"Very cool," Santiago sarcastically agreed.

Daniel made his exit just as smoothly, shooting the strange yet beautiful property manager a couple of finger guns as he backed down the lobby, only twirling to give him another look before reaching the door.

He grabbed two coffees as pretense, not wanting to look to Santiago like he had offered to go out of his way just for Armand. He'd drop it by Santiago's desk and, while he stood making his order to the barista, he decided he'd knock breakfast out as well.

"Can I get those last two strawberry sprinkle donuts?" he asked, pointing to the case beside the counter.

He watched the woman drop them into a paper sack and he thanked her though she was already looking past his shoulder at the next schmo in line.

Things moved a little faster in New Graven, but Daniel wasn't complaining. It kept him motoring to keep up and that was good. Better than sitting still too long. Better than getting bored. The consequences of boredom for one Daniel Molloy were potentially deadly.

He wordlessly placed one paper cup of coffee on Santiago's desk before moving past it and giving a small rap on Armand's office door with his knuckles. He then shuffled the coffee into the crook of his elbow so he could turn the handle and let himself in.

"That was fast," Armand remarked.

"The line wasn't too bad," Daniel said as he entered, turning to bump the door closed with his elbow and inadvertently squeezing the coffee cup with his arm against his side, making the lid pop off and the scalding hot liquid splash out over his arm, soaking into his shirt and burning his ribs. "Fuck!"

"Oh, dear." Armand was up and out of his seat, moving from behind his desk to meet Daniel with a fistful of tissues yanked from the decorative holder on his desk.

Togehter, they moved to the desk. Daniel dropped the bag of donuts and the half-spilled coffee cup down to free up his hands. He pulled the hot and soaked fabric of his shirt away from his burning skin and Armand dabbed uselessly at him with a pulpy mass of wet tissue.

"Is it still burning?" Armand asked, voice soft with sympathy.

"Think I'll have some splotches," Daniel answered, breathy with the pain and trying to sound as collected as he could. "I'll be a bit tender for a few days. Like a sunburn, no worse."

Armand went to peel the wet glob of tissue from his hands over the waste basket by his desk. "Perhaps you should take that off. You can wring it out in here…"

Daniel realized immediately how this bumbling situation was actually an opportunity. It was like he was in a bad movie. Now the guy takes his shirt off, the property manager sees that he's got a rippling bod underneath, they bang on the desk.

Daniel's bod was not exactly rippling these days, however. In fact, it had never rippled. He'd gone from skinny teenager to slightly toned young adult, to heroin thin, and now he was admittedly a little soft around the middle. A small reminder that he should pick up another pack of cigarettes. He didn't mind it too much, though. It was painful to admit that all his self-consciousness surrounding the extra little squish he'd developed under his belly button was a byproduct of the shallowness of society and the effectiveness of marketing on him. He liked to think of himself as above all that.

Armand didn't seem to mind it, either. The shirt pulled over his head, smell of coffee overwhelming him, waterboarding him briefly as the cool air of the office hit his recently scalded skin.

That was better. A relief, already.

"Ah…" A small sound, a squeak in fact, escaped Armand as Daniel took the shirt to the side of his desk and twisted it between his fists to wring it out.

"Sorry I wasted half your coffee," Daniel apologized.

"No waste." Armand grabbed more tissues from the dispenser and got to his knees on the floor, mopping up the splatters.

"Strong stuff, at least. Hope it wakes you up a little."

"I'm sure it will," Armand affirmed, getting back to his feet and tossing yet more soaked pulp into the basket

Glancing up, Daniel could see Armand's eyes were all over him. He smirked, slinging the shirt over his shoulder. "I, uh… I grabbed a couple of donuts while I was there. Do you like strawberry?"

"Strawberry," Armand repeated, sounding half- dazed. "Yes? I think so."

"You think so…"

Daniel noticed the way Armand's fingers were playing with one another, rubbing and pinching. Like all the kinetic energy, all the friction and frisson that existed in the space between his atoms had concentrated itself there while the rest of him stood still as a statue, composed.

"It's been a long time since I've had one."

Huh. That was a little strange, considering the cafe was just a couple doors down. "You don't have the time to pop out much, do you?"

"Me? No. I'm generally kept pretty busy managing the building."

Daniel's mouth opened, the question on the tip of his tongue much too personal to ask, so he stopped himself short. Instead, he decided on; "Well, I hope they're paying you enough."

Armand did not respond. He circled back around the desk and opened the paper bag to peer inside.

"We can have them now," Daniel offered.

Armand checked him as if to be sure before reaching into the bag and pulling one out. He moved around to sit in his seat, yanking one more tissue to set on the desk as if it were a plate. Then he pulled the remains of the coffee close. He gestured for Daniel to sit as well.

"You aren't too cold, are you?"

Daniel laughed. He was a little chilly without his shirt, but it hummed alongside the exhilaration he was feeling and it almost enhanced the vibe. "I'll be alright."

Armand raised the big pink donut to his small lips and bit in, eyes fluttering closed. Another sound escaped him, like a choked off moan.

Daniel kept his eyes on him while reaching into the bag for the other donut. He flattened the brown paper bag out to serve as his own crumb catcher and took a much more sedate bite, marveling at how the enjoyment of his favorite type of donut was taking a backseat to savoring Armand's.

You're being reckless, Danny… This man is the keeper of your lease…

But being endeared to the beautiful -if insectile- property manager wasn't the same as falling for the guy. Daniel was realistic and not really the sort to entertain such romantic notions. Alice always liked to remind him that his romance bone was buried a little too deep. His response, which became predictable enough in time that Alice would often beat him to the punch, was that he had a romance bone he could be burying.

Har har.

He wondered if Armand had a sense of humor…

"So, you like it?"

"It's heavenly," Armand said, placing the back half of the pastry down on the tissue and -again- using both paws to lift his coffee cup.

"I'm glad."

"How are you enjoying the bed? After your second night in it…"

"The bed?"

"Yes. Is it to your liking? Has it been a difficult adjustment?"

"Well…" Daniel thought about Louis getting suddenly sea-sick after a handful of seconds on the thing. "I guess it's not for everyone, but I'm managing alright."

Armand hummed before popping the last of his donut into his mouth.

"The apartment is great, though. All the furniture… I can't believe the last tenant just left it all, didn't even try to sell it. I can't imagine what it all must be worth. Of course, if I ever move out, I'll leave it behind. I don't really feel I have a right to take any of it with me."

Armand looked suddenly panicked. "Move out?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes and smiled. "Yeah. If. I mean, I signed a year long lease, so it's not like I'm thinking about my next situation already."

"You think you might move in a year's time?"

"Well, no. I don't know. I guess I'm just saying you never know. You know?"

It seemed he didn't know.

"I'm not planning on moving," Daniel stated, hoping that would soothe him. "I like it here, so far. So long as I don't make it awkward with any of my neighbors, I think I can be really comfortable here."

"You and Louis are getting along, then?"

A thought fluttered through Daniel's head, something about the tone Armand was employing… Like he knew something Daniel didn't. But it was gone just as fast.

"We're getting along great. Yeah. Of course."

"That's good." Another two-handed sip of the coffee. "There has been a lot of turbulence between him and Lestat as of late."

"So I've heard…"

"Of course, I do hope that they find a way to mend, but it's good for Louis to have a friend."

Daniel laughed a little. "You playing matchmaker or something?"

It wasn't meant to be accusatory, just playful, but Armand seemed to take up a line of defense.

"No, I simply… I like to see my tenants happy. I just wanted to be sure you were aware of the situation between them so that-"

"So that what?" Daniel lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, I just feel like it's the kind thing to do to warn you that you may want to tread carefully. I understand that Louis is very attractive."

Alright, now Daniel was beginning to bristle a bit. It was underscored, however, by a suspicion that Armand was feeling a little territorial over Louis and he couldn't help feeling a small thrill at that. A smugness, even, as the memory of Louis' hand around him entered back into his mind.

"Are you trying to ward me off of him?"

"I've no right to. And I wouldn't. In fact, if you were to decide to strike something up with him, I would be happy for the both of you, as well. It's just that… and it may be none of my business, but I do think Louis and Lestat make quite the pair."

Daniel scoffed. "I mean… they're hot…"

Armand nodded and Daniel really couldn't put his finger on whether he was charmed by the discovery that the man had a penchant for gossip or if he was slightly wary.

"Seems a waste for either of them to remain single, I suppose."

"If you like them so much," Daniel said with a shrug, "how come you haven't made a move?"

Again, Armand had the coffee cup gripped between both his palms and he sputtered, nearly choking on the swallow before setting it back on the desk. "I… Well, that would be…" He shook his head, eyes wide and staring into the middle distance. "It would not be professional of me, would it?"

That took a little of the wind out of Daniel's sails. He felt momentarily sleazy for it. He was counting his prospects like eggs in a basket.

"I guess discounting your tenants from the dating pool is wise. It's a big city after all, but you probably don't have much time to get out in it. That's a shame. I'm sure you'd have 'em lined up."

A glint of pain seemed to come over Armand, passing before Daniel could linger. "No, I don't get out much, but I'm content. I experience plenty through the cinema and I prefer to keep my life simple. Of course, who doesn't have lofty romantic fantasies? It's all about finding ways to indulge them that keeps things… uncomplicated. Don't you agree?"

Daniel wanted to agree, but he had to admit to himself that he sort of lived for the chaos and upheaval. He sort of needed it.

"Different strokes," he said. "I guess you live and you learn. I take it you've been burned before?"

"Perhaps these matters are not appropriate for us to discuss here in my office."

It was like a door creaking open just a crack. Daniel saw an opportunity and he dove in headlong. "Oh, well yeah. I mean, it's always a good policy to keep business and pleasure separate. Maybe we can talk sometime outside of the building. Surely it's above board to have a tenant you can count as a friend…" And then maybe you loosen your necktie and let yourself live a little…

Armand didn't speak, he simply stared.

"Maybe… I don't know, are you free any time this week? There must be a way you could eke out a couple hours in the evening. We could get dinner."

"Hah, I…" Armand's eyes were unable to find a place to land. He wrapped his fingers around the coffee cup and tapped against the cardboard sleeve. "I am actually fairly entrenched in some contract stuff. Things to do with the renovation and… a-accounts and… such. The elevator's been- Hah." He swallowed, eyes finally meeting Daniel's again. "But thank you."

The doe-eyed and flirtatious pivot to flustered rejection was… anomalous. Daniel was left to scramble in the shattered remains of his own confidence.

"Well… I guess if you change your mind or free up some time…"

"Of course." Armand smiled and, anticipating what would come out of Daniel's mouth next, said "I'll know where to find you."

 

 

---

 

 

There was so much to do and Louis did not know where to begin. He'd picked up some wire, some little metal hoops, and he'd taken two large and heavy canvas drop cloths from the gallery to rig up to the track lighting in the living area so that Claudia might have a sense of privacy while staying with him. Still, nothing much could be done about soundproofing. Not that Louis was making that much noise these days. He was, effectively, electing to live through a period of celibacy. It was good for him. It'd been good, anyway, save for the smattering of times Lestat caught him while his resolve was weak. And last night, which had not even culminated. So it didn't matter. Louis had made sure to rid himself of the urge before calling Lestat up to his apartment. Even in his drunken state (which vomiting had helped, at least) the lingering effects Daniel left on him had made some chinks in his armor. He couldn't exactly unlearn that his nextdoor neighbor was biblically hung.

So by the time Lestat was in the bed, Louis was sated. The drawbridge diplomatically raised. And sure, it'd crossed his mind that morning. A little head went a long way to help cure a hangover and time was rapidly running out for Louis to get it in before the arrival of his baby cousin. The factor which had decided against it was the absolute gaul Lestat displayed. The absolute entitlement.

No. He had to put his foot down and he was glad he had. With a punch to the thigh, he'd done it. That'd show Lestat. Nebulously, Louis wondered how the bruise was faring through the dance rehearsal Lestat was supposed to be at tonight. He hoped he he'd been responsible for a cramp or two, at least.

He climbed the stepladder, dragged up from the janitorial supply closet (which he'd had to sign Eglee's book to check out), and began to clasp the rings he'd linked through the gromets of the canvas around the black-painted metal bar of the track lights. Naturally, being on the ladder amplified the feeling of being watched. His feet had a small narrow platform on which to stand and that scrutinized feeling always knocked him a little off balance. He kept himself stable through the flexing of his soles, the gripping of his toes, and he took a deep breath. He worked fast, up the ladder, down the ladder, moving it as he went and climbing again. His arms were tired from the weight of the canvas, but he was nearly finished. As he clasped the final ring around the track, just as he was beginning to feel the pull to pry open the smoke detector again and inspect its insides for bugs (or for little green men at this point, he was losing it so damn bad) he was interrupted by a knock on his door.

"Lestat," he grumbled.

It was unmistakable. Two short raps, musical somehow, but succinct.

"You forget something?" Louis asked without a greeting.

"I did," Lestat said, face sullen.

"Make it quick." Louis pulled the door in and gestured for him to come inside.

As Lestat flourished his way into the apartment with his hands kept carefully behind his back, he twirled so that they were at no point exposed. A posture which might've, at first, simply looked contrite. But Louis knew better than to assume it was only a hat held behind his back.

"I should've fuckin' known…"

"I did forget something," Lestat reiterated. "An apology… From the heart."

Louis scrubbed his palm over his eyes. He was tired. Bone tired. He did not have the stamina for this right now.

"What's the real reason you're here, Lestat?"

"To make up for my reprehensible behavior this morning. I was not the gentleman either of us know me to be…"

"Would that be the gentleman who cheated with the doorman?"

"Door-woman."

"Whatever."

At last, Lestat revealed what it was he'd been hiding behind his back. "I won't leave until you accept it."

Louis exhaled. Lestat presented the Fikon 50mm f/1.2 AI-S, mint in the box, resting on his palms like he was making an offer of it to a king. Louis had been coveting that lens. Every time he'd attempted to purchase it, it'd been sold out. His resolve -no iron gate, but rather a band of saplings woven together by brittle willow reeds- wavered.

"Or until I throw your ass out," he said without the support of his backbone.

Lestat nodded gravely. "Or that. Though I do hope it won't come to it."

They stood in their stalemate for several seconds, Lestat looking like a goddamn prince in the light, now dimmer for the separation of the canvas. He was dressed in the clothes he always wore to the studio. A loose sweatshirt, some jogging pants. Still, he looked like royalty. It made the bent-knee groveling seem even more ridiculous to Louis. He wanted to kick himself for the effect this blond, French clown still had on him.

"You didn't go to your rehearsal?"

"I passed by the shops on the way, saw this in the window and knew that you must have it." Lestat turned his head, taking in the drop-cloth at last before turning back to Louis. "Redecorating?"

Louis snatched the camera lens out of his hands. "Claudia will be here in a couple days. She's staying for the start of the semester until we can find her a safe, affordable apartment. It's cheaper than the dorms and I'll feel better knowing she's here and not out shirking her studies or getting knocked up. You know how college aged boys are."

"She is a young woman, Louis. You must let her spread her wings."

"Coming from the man who was buying her Continental Connie dolls until she was a senior in highschool?"

"Yes, well, surely she has lost some of the baby fat in those adorable, vindictive little cheeks."

Louis scoffed. "It's only been eight months since you've seen her, Lestat."

"I can't be expected to understand the developmental timeline of young girls, Louis. I grew up with only brothers, in boarding schools with only other boys, and my mother was at the apex of ripe womanhood when I was-"

"Alright!" Louis threw up a hand. "That's enough about Claudia's… development. Thank you for the lens. It was thoughtful," he admitted begrudgingly. "You can go, now."

Already, Lestat was moving around the space, pinching the cloth between his fingertips. "It is drab, no?"

"It's temporary." Louis set the lens down on the coffee table and folded his arms. "And I'm sure she'll dress the space up a little. The couch on the other side pulls out, as you know…"

Lestat's jaw tensed, but he took the hit in stride.

"And I'll have my room to spend time in. There's two curtains, so we can draw them back when we want use of the living area. It's going to work out great."

"If you say so, mon cher. And will you be warning her about the little gremlins you are so convinced have taken control of the wires in the building? The little men living in the walls?"

The cut of Lestat's tongue could be acid at times, but the regret in his eyes after it was spoken was immediate.

"Sorry," he said. "That was-"

"You made your apology. I accepted the gift. You can go, now."

Lestat sighed. "I suppose this means our little encounters must become more clandestine."

Louis reconsidered punching his other thigh. "Ain't gonna be no more 'little encounters,' Lestat. I've got myself to take care of and pretty soon here, I'll have Claudia to take care of as well. I don't have the time to juggle you and your bumbling into my doorway every other day."

"'Bumbling,'" Lestat huffed. "Je suis une danseuse professionnelle dont la grâce est mondialement reconnue…"

"I'm too tired to put on my French ears." Louis rubbed at his temples for emphasis. "Please."

"I miss you, Louis. With every fiber of my being, at every hour, every second… I miss you."

Louis' head fell back, eyes on the ceiling. He was going to hang onto that last twig. It would not snap. It would hold.

"This morning, I was a fool. I was not wearing my Creole ears, mon cher…"

Louis tsked, deciding it was no longer his prerogative to make the correction there. He stood by 'bumbling.' Just a soft, feather-brained, French idiot. With golden hair that soothed rather than tickled… and with heartbreaking, if deceptive, depth in those blue eyes. Louis found himself laughing.

"You're something else."

"Something else, entirely," Lestat agreed. "And unmatched, some would say."

"Don't go quoting your reviews at me trying to sell yourself."

"Is it working?"

That moronic smile spread over that wide mouth, quirking up on the side with the scar that always got Louis feeling moronic, himself.

"No," he said with finality. "Give it up, Lestat. I'm exhausted. I've got more work to do around here before Claudia arrives and I need to get some sleep tonight."

"Oui. Le petit cockblocker… You must make a welcoming home for her, of course. But how will you fare when you hear the gremlin's scratching? Feel the burn of his irises on your long, elegant neck?"

"Okay, fuck you." Louis grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him towards the door. "You're not gonna try to spook me into letting you stay over again. I got plenty on my mind to drown all that out." He opened the door and shoved him out. "Goodnight, Lestat!" he hollered through the door.

He could hear the thud of Lestat's forehead against the wood on the other side, the whispered mutterings of "je t'aime, Louis… Bon nuit…"

He listened for the tapping of Lestat's feet as he walked away at last. The sound of the elevator as it opened for him and carried him back to his own floor. Exhaling all the air in his lungs, Louis turned to lean back against the door and let himself slide down it.

He was a man in his thirties, doing well for himself. He made enough money to be comfortable, he had a nice apartment, a career he felt passion for, and he was single with prospects. Two prospects, that was. His ex and his nextdoor neighbor.

"Bad ideas, both of 'em," he grumbled.

His life was not in shambles. Not on paper. Not from anyone's outside perspective looking in. The paranoia, well… that wasn't real. So far, he could not reach out and touch it. If he could, that would be a confirmation and he certainly didn't want that. In the meantime, he just needed to hang onto the thread. He needed to hold it carefully and keep it, afraid that yanking too hard would leave him unraveled.

Claudia's presence would help. That'd be a good distraction. He might hear a throat clear in the night, the rustle of fabric, and he could say 'Louis, you're being a damn fool. That's just your cousin,' and there would be no reason to argue with himself.

Besides, he loved that girl like a sister. Counted her as one. His own mother and hers had fallen out years ago, but Louis never held a grudge and he certainly never thought to extend it to Claudia the way his own mother did. It went the same both ways. Aunt Patty never treated Louis any different and even harbored a special kind of bond with Paul that endeared Louis further. Grace was another story. Grace's loyalty to their mother was impenetrable and though Louis suspected she, herself, harbored no ill will towards their aunt, she kept her distance out of respect to Mama. When Louis and Paul visited Patty and Claudia, it was always in secret. When Claudia reached an age where Patty felt comfortable with it, Louis and Lestat would come pick her up and take her horse-riding, on weekend trips to orchards in the fall, and sometimes for extended holidays at their last apartment. There had been times when the three of them were together, strolling in the park, doing their Christmas shopping, where they'd really felt like a trio. Lestat on one side, Louis on the other, Claudia bracketed safely between, and Louis would let himself slip into daydreamy thoughts of what it might be like in another life -or another reality, rather, considering- where they were in fact-

"No, you be quiet!"

Louis' head jerked up so hard he hit the back of it against the door. His heartbeat accelerated and he could hear it in his ear, adding some depth to the rattling in his skull.

"Hang on, I gotta get my key…"

 

 

Notes:

The rabbithole I went down about vintage espresso machines for the chapter is one I can actually recommend to all the nd homies out there. Fascinating stuff. -Thunder_Puss

Chapter 4: a real shake-up in the plot

Summary:

Daniel has a guest, Louis has concerns, Armand has a quiet evening in.

Notes:

cw for Daniel being insufferable while drunk

Quietly, Louis got to his feet, leveling his breathing and peeking out of his peephole to see a mass of black spinning around in the hall. He realized, then, that it was a person dressed in velvet and lace and a skirt made of something slick and shiny, belted at the waist, and then the jet-black head of hair, cut into a wedged bob lifted and Louis realized he was looking at a woman who'd just been devouring Daniel's face.

Distorted, but coming into focus clearer and clearer, the closer they drew, Louis could see that Daniel's mouth and cheeks were covered in scarlet red lipstick kisses. The pair had their arms around each other's waists, now, and drunkenly they stumbled to Daniel's door and out of Louis' field of vision.

"I never do this," Daniel said.

A bitter huff left Louis' nostrils as he bent his head, gently and silently, so his ear was pressed to the door.

"Neither do I," the woman laughed.

They made it into the apartment and the door slammed closed behind them. Louis scrambled over to the wall they shared and cupped his ear, sliding down as they moved further into the apartment, but unable past a point to hear them any longer. Like the wall had suddenly grown thicker between them, or maybe like there was some kind of structural load-bearing device wedged in there that dampened the sound.

He came away from the wall, feeling a little ashamed. Whatever it was that was happening over there… It wasn't his business. And to think, his own mind was so preoccupied by the fear of being observed without his consent.

The bitterness he felt, however, he could forgive himself for. Nothing as disappointing as a man stuck in the closet, inching forward and then cartwheeling back. It seemed Daniel had something to prove to himself this evening…

And it's none of my business…

Except, now Louis was finding himself in the bedroom, conveniently sat on the floor once more with his back to their adjoined wall. He knew he wouldn't hear a peep. He'd never been able to hear anything from the neighbor next door when it came to night-time activities. All the strange accoustics of the building ever brought him were sniffles, coughs, and the sound of rustling quiet.

Still, he sat there longer than he should have. He was going to suffer a sleepless night, now, and he knew it.

 

---

 

Could Louis hear them?

They were making quite a bit of noise. At least, she was.

She'd said her name was Raven. Daniel had said 'sure.'

So, anyway, Raven had quite a caw on her. But Daniel distinctly remembered how Louis said he'd never heard the previous tenant in this apartment because the acoustics were funny here. You could pick up quite a bit from the halls if you were at the door. You could even hear your neighbor, it seemed, through the last bit of wall before the entryway to the apartments. Not too unusual. Not alarming. Not all that Santiago had cracked it up to be, either.

Daniel felt much more at ease imagining that Louis would go about his night without a hint as to what Daniel was getting up to. It was not often that Daniel was the one on the high horse, nursing someone else through a difficult time after over-imbibing. How truly humiliating it would be for Louis to witness Daniel so… sloppy.

Complicated, Daniel thought. Louis, Lestat, me… Complicated…

This, however? This was easy. This was so easy that it would have weighed on his shoulders a little if Raven hadn't also given him her age; exactly, suspiciously, the same as his own as though she'd read it off the jacket and kept it in mind because Daniel suspected that she was at least five years older than that, which he didn't mind in the slightest.

She had him by the collar, her mouth absinthe, his whiskey, the two of them together a mix of alcoholic Christmas tree and stubbed out clove ashtray.

Hot.

She pulled him past the bar and Daniel had the fleeting thought that it was a pity she hadn't given him the chance to turn on the lights and show her around the place. She seemed markedly uninterested in all of that. Which, again, was fine. Just fine. Because Daniel was jonesing for her. She'd bought him a drink at the restaurant, had it delivered to his table from the bar where she sat, glancing over her shoulder at him with a put-on shy smile.

Of course, he hadn't known just how put-on it was at the time. He gave her a polite waive, raised the glass, and thought 'oh, what the hell. Just one won't hurt.'

Naturally, after settling his check, he picked up the rocks glass and carried it over to say hi to the kind and thoughtful fan. From behind, he could see she had a fat ass. He liked that on a woman. Rubber skirt stretched taut over it, belted at her waist, black velvet blazer with embroidered roses across the back and a sharp, sleek haircut. Her long, red, pointed nails clinked on her glass and she startled a little when he pulled out the stool next to hers.

It was hard not to keep his eyes from dropping to her tits by the third drink. She had them pushed halfway up to her neck and they were substantial and well-shaped. Would Daniel be a pig to admit that he liked that in a woman, too? Or would he be forgiven because, after all, he was a man right?

He knew what Alice would think, of course. And the third drink pushed that little nag right out of his head at last.

And then a cab, and then home. Eglee eyed them the entire way to the elevator. Daniel could hear her laugh as the doors shut them in, as Raven's hand flew to his crotch.

And now they were in his room. The lights on, dimmed by red scarves she'd pulled from her little black bag. Sultry, flattering, like a softcore porno you might rent from the video store. Daniel left her to take a piss and when he came back, she was topless, braless, and working loose the thick belt around her middle. He smirked, licking his lips and kicked out of his shoes, lifted his own shirt off, and began stripping out of his pants. He'd long beat her to the punch, taking a running dive at the bed as she bent, shimmying out of the tight rubber skirt, leaving her in nothing but red lace panties, a black garter belt, stockings, and her six inch patent stiletto heels which Daniel wished, oh he wished, she could leave on.

But she was laughing, now, as he rocked and swayed on the surface of the waterbed.

"Don't suppose I should leave these on, then," she said.

"It'd be a really bad idea," Daniel managed, beginning to get the slightest taste of the sea-sickness Louis must have felt last night. "Shit…"

"Stay still," she commanded. Then, grinning, she popped each foot back, one at a time, and removed the heels. "I want you to get out of those boxers and then get on your back."

"Oh?"

Suddenly, the nausea subsided. Daniel pushed up onto his arms, struggling out of the boxer shorts in a somewhat undignified manner that seemed not to put Raven off at all, thank god, but rather to turn that grin on her face a little more malicious -Which Daniel liked in a woman.

At last, he was on his back, dick up, water rocking gently under him. He watched her approach the foot of the bed, climb on, sending a wave to roll him back; legs, hips, and head. She came to straddle him, as graceful as anyone could be on a one ton waterbed and then her hand was on him.

"This thing's all mine tonight," she said.

Daniel had to admit it was nice to finally have the thing acknowledged. It usually didn't take quite so long.

"You got it, sugar…"

She bit her lip, squeezing the tips of her nails into his shaft, making both of them gasp. "You like to be hurt?" she asked.

"Baby, you can do anything you like…"

"Mmm…" She rolled her hips around in a circle over his upper thighs and Daniel reached down to pull her panties aside, but before he could get the hook of his thumb behind the lace, she was grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them up by his ears, leaning over him menacingly but finally, finally, putting herself in contact with his cock. Hard and throbbing against her lace-covered heat, Daniel moaned.

"I'm in charge. Understand?" Raven said. "You want me to feel safe, don't you?"

"W-what…?" Daniel chuckled nervously.

"You're a man, this is your apartment… All I know about you is you like to write perverted monster books with plenty of blood and guts. How do I know you're not some sicko?"

"What?" He pushed up a little, but found it difficult with the bed and her weight on top of him. She was strong, solid, and deliciously heavy over his hips.

She bent in and kissed his cheek, lips brushing his ear as the pointed hair of her bob pressed against him like the threatening tip of knife. "Shhh, relax," she whispered. "Don't you want to play along?"

Daniel thought, probably, he did. He nodded, going quiet and attempting to buck his hips up to get himself more firmly pressed against her.

"First things first," she said with her full voice as she popped back up on him. "I'm going to tie you up, if that's alright…"

Again, Daniel nodded, eager to get this show on the road. His eyes ran her up and down as she rocked against him a time or two before climbing off him, off the bed, and taking the silk scarf from the lamp to the right. She slipped it around his wrist and began to tie it into a fairly loose knot before taking it down to where Daniel could not see, presumably tying it to the foot of the bed. He watched her do the same with his left wrist, leaving him splayed out like Jesus Christ on the cross without the loincloth.

"Comfortable?" she asked when finished.

"Could be a lot tighter," Daniel said a little cheekily.

She leaned over him and took his face in her hand, red tips digging painfully into his skin as she stared into his eyes. "It's silk. The more you struggle, the tighter it will get. So I would try my best to stay as still as possible. You could get hurt."

Daniel's cock twitched. "My safe word's lemon pie."

A second later, Raven was stepping out of her red lace panties and shoving them into Daniel's mouth.

 

---

 

The heel of Armand's shoe was peeling away and it made an amusing sound as he jaunted down the basement stairs. Slap-tap, slap-tap. He had some super glue in his apartment which he could use to cobble it back together. He'd had to do it for the other shoe, already. He'd gotten this pair about eight months back at the consignment shop down the block and until today, it'd been holding up spectacularly.

He got most of his clothes at the consignment shop down the block.

He kept the empty paper cup from that morning's coffee gingerly in the crook of his arm as he turned his key in each lock, having to press the door in on the last one for it to click open. Another small thing that needed some mending. Armand needed about four extra hours in the day. All the little things added up. His to-do list was never-ending, it seemed, but that was alright. He liked to keep busy during the day when there was nothing else to occupy his mind.

His apartment was dark, of course. The hopper window used to let a little light in during the day when it was unobstructed, but it was so coated in grime, now, that it was nearly opaque. Armand had given up cleaning it. Every time it rained and water collected in that one divot by the curb it just got splattered again by passing cars. There was another in his small bathroom, but it was frosted for his privacy. All the same, he knew the inside of the space by heart. Nobody but him ever set foot inside and he knew exactly where he'd left everything at all times, though one wouldn't know from looking at the place.

There was an organization to it. Armand hadn't had to insist on that point to anyone for many years now, but it was true. Everything had a place and everything in its place, that was the motto. It was just that there were so many things and so many places. Telephone wires in this bin, replacement doorknobs in another. In his kitchen, the cabinets were filled mostly with other odds and ends, the overflow that was too noncategorical to easily find a home for. He didn't need a cupboard full of plates and bowls, anyway. One of each had sufficed. There was only one of him, after all. A plastic cup from the consignment store to replace the glass one that had cracked, a pink plastic bowl in the shape of a heart that had held Valentine's candies in the lobby one year when Santiago was still pursuing the mailman, and a square plastic plate with different sections to keep his food from touching (or for him to sort the colorful candies he sometimes enjoyed in the evenings when he finally let himself relax and parked himself in front of his shows).

Then, of course, there was his favorite of all; a Halloween candy bucket he'd had since as long as he could remember. It was a sour apple green that glowed in the dark with the silhouettes of black cats, witches flying in the sky, and bats circling over a gated graveyard on a hill. He loved that one best for popcorn which he ate one kernel at a time, picking the fluffy white flesh off the inverted husks before tossing those into the small waste basket he kept by his favorite spot in the whole apartment for just that reason.

Popcorn sounded tempting. The texture and the salt. It made him lick his lips as he flipped the light on in his humble little kitchen. But he was hungry tonight. Really hungry. He placed the paper coffee cup with 'Armon' etched onto its surface with grease pencil on the counter and opened the freezer door to pull out the second to last Freezer King brand chicken pot pie from the third stack. Turkey on the left, beef in the center, chicken on the right. Chicken was his favorite and he'd need to make a run to the grocery store soon to replenish. He didn't like to dip below two chicken pot pies at any given time. It made him anxious.

He popped it into the microwave, hit the button for the special setting he'd programmed, and went back to the bedroom to change out of his clothes. He had a curtain hung between his dresser, the mirror, and the side of the room with the bed. It made the area feel cramped a little, like someone could be breathing down his neck when he was in there, but he'd gotten very good at ignoring that feeling by filling his head up with the vibration of a hum. Sometimes it would be the catchy part of a tune he'd picked up while out at the grocery store, sometimes it would be something he heard on the radio in his office, sometimes he'd just make it up.

Tonight he was far too tired to make it up himself, so he settled on the bit of music he'd heard in the lobby of his contractor.

Third drawer on the right was all soft clothes. Nighttime clothes. Appropriate, still, if he were to be called up to handle some kind of emergency. The basement was always a bit chilly and damp feeling and tonight was no exception, so he selected a matching set of red and green flannel pajamas. Top drawer on the left was for socks and underwear. Tonight's socks needed to be fuzzy. He tossed the day's outfit into the hamper, and arranged his shoes against the wall with the others.

When the microwaved beeped, he used his dishtowel to gently slide the pot pie out and into the heart-shaped bowl. He got his spoon from the drying rack and poured himself a cup of juice in the Armon cup, freshly rinsed. He carefully carried his dinner back to the living room, through the curtain that divided it, and into the makeshift theater he'd made. He toed on his surge-protector as he passed it before crossing his ankles and lowering himself down to the blanket and pillow covered twin mattress that served as his seat. He set down his juice, balanced his still-too-hot pot pie in his lap, and reached for the remote.

Practicing some restraint, he first turned on screen B. A silent picture in which a woman held her knees to her chest as she carefully applied a lacquer to her toes. Her hair was wet from the shower and Armand wondered to himself if he'd missed anything interesting.

Then he switched on screen D. An empty room. He flipped the channel, landed on Luchenbaum hunched over his desk, gears, springs and his tools scattered around him while he worked with his tongue pinched between his teeth over the open cavity of the large vintage clock he'd been tirelessly toiling away at for the last two months in hope of getting it up and running again. Armand was rapt for a moment, wondering if any progress had been made until Luchenbaum's pliers flew from his hand, more gears and springs soaring in the air. He felt his chest sink as Luchenbaum collapsed onto his arms on the desk, heaving out a frustrated cry. Exhileration and disappointment. Not the kind of entertainment Armand was exactly in the mood for this evening, however. He flipped the channel again and saw the familiar silhouette of Lestat, swaying on his feet to some music unheard.

"Oh!"

Armand lifted the hot plate from his thigh and bent forward, reaching for the dial on the speakers in front of the stacked mass of monitors and old disused television sets and turned it slowly up.

Almost as if with the rising of the volume, Lestat swept one arm out, bowing his legs and lowering himself before springing up in a twirl and landing gracefully. He danced in the center of his apartment and Armand laughed with delight. A lucky lucky catch. Just what he'd needed. He watched Lestat leap and twirl and make the lines of his body look seductive and enticing until, at last, the song concluded, the sharp interrupting click of the cassette tape in the little boombox on the floor running out. Lestat muttered before he bent to rewind and Armand flipped the channel until he found Louis' apartment.

At first, it was the bedroom. Empty. He took a moment to dig into his pot pie with his spoon, blowing over the lava-like insides before closing his lips around it. One more channel up, the bathroom, and then-

"Hm?" He squinted at the screen, spoon still in his mouth.

There was a curtain stretched across the screen, obscuring his view. He clicked to the next channel, same room but a different angle, and there was Louis lying on the couch with a book in his face.

"Oh, dear," Armand said to himself. He fiddled with the receiver that fed through the speakers until he landed on the proper station to match up with Louis' apartment. He could hear the man's soft snoring, muffled by the book. He smiled fondly, taking another bite of his dinner, happy that Louis was getting some rest. Still, though, the curtain posed many questions and even some concerns. Though Armand tried his best to keep his disturbances to a minimum, there had been several times he'd happened to catch Louis muttering to himself about them. About the sounds, the feeling of being observed. And, of course, Armand couldn't be responsible for all of that. How could he be? Louis could not know that there were cameras in his apartment. He could not know that he was wired for sound. But still, he seemed to sense. There had even been a time or two where Armand had been watching him lounging on the bed or even brushing his teeth where suddenly it seemed as though their eyes met and it had shocked him so much he'd scramble back and away to get out of the perceived line of sight.

If the curtain were to do with that… Well, then Armand would have a responsibility to somehow put the man back at ease. The last thing he wanted was to do Louis any harm or scare him. He loved Louis. He loved him and Lestat so much that the prospect of them getting back together was almost all he ever thought about. They were his favorite. His absolute favorite. Though their split had made wonderful entertainment and they still crashed back into one another again and again, Armand just wanted to see them happy together for good.

He reached for his juice in his Armon cup and his mind turned to his newest tenant, Daniel Molloy. Another interesting character. A real shake-up in the plot. Seemingly without effort, he'd managed to seduce Louis over to his place the previous night and Armand, though he hadn't caught the beginning, had caught the entirety of the end. He'd stayed up long past his bedtime, eyes bouncing between monitors to watch the independent culminations of their desires while he brought about his own.

He wondered if Daniel was still out. He hadn't the slightest where he'd gone as Eglee had neglected to ask. She wasn't the friendliest nightporter, that was certain, but Armand liked her. She was pretty and she was frightening to men and that, Santiago assured him, was a good quality to have in a nightporter. He only wished she was a little more curious. Santiago was reliable for intel. Armand never even needed to ask. But Eglee was a closed book.

The light was off in Daniel's living room, but Armand could see a faint glow in the upper left-hand corner of the screen. He clicked to the bedroom and gasped.

Daniel was home alright. And he was not alone.

He watched the backside of what appeared to be a quite curvaceous woman in bordello-appropriate stockings as she rocked forward and back, straddling Daniel's hips. He needed a better angle, so he flipped to camera 2 for the side profile.

"Oh…"

His breath stuttered out of him and he set aside his plate, getting onto his knees and inching closer to the screen with wide eyes. He wished he had sound, but Louis and Lestat's were the only apartments he'd wired for it. He could've kicked himself for not setting it up ahead of Daniel's move. He'd been charmed enough by the man upon their initial meeting, but then Armand had been charmed by all of his tenants in their initial meetings. Otherwise they would not have been approved.

You couldn't have known, he told himself as his eyes ran down the red silk scarf that attached Daniel's wrist, almost taut, to the leg of the bed. His mouth was stuffed with some kind of gag. Something red. Like an apple in the maw of a suckling pig. Armand giggled a little at the thought, the tips of his fingers coming to touch his bottom lip. Then the woman's hand was on Daniel's throat. A spike of anxiety shot through him, but he was quelled once her other hand pulled the red object from Daniel's mouth.

Something was being said, some exchange between them and then the woman reared back and smacked Daniel hard across the face. So hard that his head turned and Armand gasped again.

This was getting good.

Arousal and intrigue swirled together in Armand as he focused more closely on Daniel's face, narrowing his eyes and seeing that he was… laughing? Laughing with his mouth wide open and then… then he looked more like he was in pain, mouth still open wide, but his eyes were fixed upward before they fluttered closed. He seemed to be gasping and then his head turned, buried in his upper arm and the woman bent to draw him out and press their lips together.

Was it that… Had it been that…

"Was that it?" Armand asked the screen. "He's finished?"

So soon, and just when Armand had been getting into it…

Of course, he had no idea how long they'd been at it before he'd tuned in. It was no indictment of Daniel, simply a disappointment in his own poor timing. Except, well… The thing was, now the woman appeared to be the one laughing. Was she laughing at Daniel?

She clamored off of him, leaving him flagging against his own stomach, still sheathed in the green-colored latex. It drew Armand's eye, the pharmaceutical hue leaving him with a ghostly trace of anise on his tongue. Bitter, unpleasant medicine. Drowsy feeling.

So Daniel had climaxed, after all. And perhaps it had been a little early for it. Armand sighed, setting aside his supper in favor of pressing the belly of his arm against himself through the flannel pajama pants. He hoped the woman would not be too hasty in untying Daniel, and sighed again in relief when he realized that she was taking care, at least, to dress herself first. A striptease in reverse that Armand found himself a little distracted from Daniel by. She was a shapely woman, plump and seductive in the way that she moved, wiggling into the shiny black skirt and whipping Armand up into a feverish state of arousal that confused and confounded him. When she'd been on top of Daniel, he'd felt wholly indifferent to her as anything other than a means to witness Daniel's vulnerability and passion. Or, perhaps, as a vessel for him to project himself into. A proxy for his own pleasure. It was a new feeling. Strange, but not so strange that it frightened him. He found himself excited by it… what it could mean…

There was another exchange between the two, something in Daniel's expression changing from spent pleasure and humiliation to what looked like anger. Arguing, even. The woman finished getting her bra on, her blouse and her jacket, before stepping into her black high heels. Armand wondered, briefly, if this woman could perhaps be friends with Eglee.

She looks the sort…

Armand followed her as she moved to what seemed to be Daniel's pants on the floor. He quickly switched back to camera 1 for the better angle and saw that she was taking his wallet out of his pocket and fishing out some bills.

Curious.

Perhaps there had been an agreement beforehand? Some terms about money to be exchanged? And then it struck Armand…

Perhaps the boy had put up a fight, arguing that he hadn't gotten his money's worth…

Well, if that were the case, then Armand found himself squarely in her corner. Whatever she took to settle the bill, well… he supposed she was entitled to it. So long as she didn't trash the place on her way out.

She stuffed the money down her blouse and yet more words were exchanged. And then a funny thing happened. Just before the she left, she stopped by the bed, bent over it, and kissed Daniel again. Armand saw his toes curl, his hips jerk and he was certain he'd even seen Daniel's wilting erection rally a little and stir.

He flipped through the channels to continue along with her as she let herself out of the apartment and then he flipped back to Daniel who was, once more, laughing.

The program appeared to be quite finished. The show, over. Daniel did not tug or fight at his trusses, which Armand was grateful to see. Not that he'd have minded seeing the struggle, it was just that he knew silk to be particularly dangerous as a restraint. It had no tooth. It slipped against itself and tightened the more you squirmed.

He wondered if Daniel might think to scream to alert Louis. He was fairly sure a loud enough scream would penetrate through the double walls, but he was not certain. Louis' snoring was still coming through the speaker and Armand was curious to know if Daniel screamed, would he be able to hear it, too?

But Daniel did not scream. He lay there, shaking his head, looking more amused than anything and Armand felt himself smiling. What a predicament this boy had gotten himself into.

Fascinating. What entertainment…

Armand continued to watch him, the back of his thumb bit between his teeth and his other hand sliding between the material of clothing and his skin. In all his years of watching, all his years of desiring, he could not recall even one instance where he'd have replaced any of the people inside his screen with himself. Even with Louis and Lestat, his two most favorite of all his tenants, he'd never been bold enough to imagine himself between them in any capacity that felt material. He was happy to be a benevolent force, an intangible presence seeking no credit, only a window in.

Poking too long at the reason why that could be felt dangerous. Like sticking your finger into your bellybutton too deep. It froze him, made his eyes unfocus, made him scramble to get back to the good feelings. His palm between his legs, the soft hot velvet feel of himself in his hand. He brought himself back to Daniel's room. Good to think about, good to imagine. If Armand were to do the unthinkable, if he were to let himself into Daniel's room now-

And, of course, he'd never…

But if he did…

He wondered how Daniel's hips might feel between his legs. He wondered what doing it in a waterbed would be like and if Daniel was too big for it to be easy. He wondered what would happen if Daniel opened his eyes right now and looked into the camera.

A frustrating, stupid thought, that. Armand felt his desire shrivel up inside him, stone cold and dead. A panic-stricken embarrassment replaced it and he retreated from the waistband of his pants. Foolish.

Perhaps, after he finished his dinner, the urge would return to him. He hoped.

He reached, once more, for his forgotten pot pie and was disappointed to discover that it'd gone as chilly and cold as the concrete beneath it.

 

Notes:

Everyone who guessed right come pick a prize out of the bag 😃

Chapter 5: Are you decent?

Summary:

Armand comes to Daniel's rescue, Daniel and Louis debrief (after Daniel rebriefs)

The hangover was bad, but it was the least of it. Daniel was sore all over and felt like he needed to piss a river.

He could shout… Maybe that would work. If it did, that would mean that Louis was the most likely to come to his rescue. He wasn't sure he could handle the humiliation of that. In fact, he was certain he couldn't. Dignity wasn't worth too much to a recovering addict like himself, but when it came to Louis, well…

It's different.

He didn't want to burst the bubble of his own intrigue quite so soon.

What was a guy to do?

Lie here, I guess… Try not to piss myself, I guess…

The image of his dick filling the condom with urine like a fucking water balloon entered his head and he began to laugh, putting himself in danger of making it a reality. It was cut abruptly short when a knock on the door sounded through the apartment.

He held his breath.

"Daniel?!?"

Louis was shouting through the door and it had Daniel's blood seizing up in his veins. The door was unlocked. Must've been.

Raven wouldn't have locked it.

Bitch, Daniel thought. He felt immediately guilty for it. She might've put him in this predicament, but the image of her straddling him, riding his dick with the slow wave of the waterbed… that was a gift that would last a lifetime, and he couldn't begrudge her the twenty bucks she'd stolen out of his wallet, either. He almost felt bad he hadn't hit the ATM up for more before grabbing dinner. He hadn’t thought it was any kind of business exchange when they’d left the bar, but if he was going to be tricked into it he’d rather not feel like a cheapskate, either.

"Twenty bucks?" she'd cried, indignant. "Twenty bucks, that's all you've got?"

"I don't like to carry a lot of cash!"

"You don't have any more stashed around here?"

"Why don't you take my credit card!"

She'd laughed. "Like you won't just cancel it."

Daniel had to admit she'd had a point, there. Still. He'd outstretched his hands, emphasizing the state he was in. "Kind of an impossibility at the moment."

"The shops are all closed."

"Hey! Sorry I didn't plan ahead to be tied to my bed and robbed!"

Should he call his editor, he wondered. See if the publisher wouldn't rather have him pen a memoir…

More knocking, more hollering, and then finally it was quiet. Funny that Daniel should be feeling relieved about that. It really didn't solve anything.

And by god did he have to piss…

 

---

 

Louis elected not to go into the gallery. If his neighbor had gotten more than just drunk last night, it still wasn't his business. Was maybe even an uncharitable assumption based on what Daniel had revealed about his past, but he just couldn’t shake it. He paced his living room, pressed his ear to the walls, went out to the hall and pressed his ear directly against Daniel's door again, and paced some more before, finally, he resolved to do something.

Of course, it had occurred to him to try the door. But what if it was unlocked? What then? What if, god forbid, Daniel was on the other side of it, choked with vomit, lips blue, eyes bulging-

No no, Louis, no… Get a hold on yourself, now.

But nothing could be done for it. He couldn't do bring himself to do it.

And if he's on the other side of the door, dying but not dead? What then? What then?

He bypassed the elevator, taking two stairs at once, flying into the lobby where Santiago's bleach-blond head raised up from his desk to greet him with a look of disdain.

"A fire, Louis?" he asked.

Short of breath, Louis shook his head. "Armand?"

The gravity in the ask made Santiago's demeanor go from chiding to chilled.

"In his office."

 

---

 

Daniel had been awake when Armand checked once more before heading upstairs. Awake was good. If he were going to be sick, he'd have been sick by now, Armand suspected. If he was going to struggle in his restraints, he would've done that, too. He seemed to know better and that put Armand at ease. Still… How to get Daniel out of this mess?

He felt a responsibility. Of course, he always felt somewhat responsible for the well-being of his tenants, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for them to get themselves into situations and Armand, for the most part, felt quite comfortable watching them get themselves out of them. He'd never quite felt the impetus to interfere or intervene. Not directly, anyway. Not like he would have to in this special case.

Why hadn't Daniel shouted for help?

That would have solved everything. Armand saw Louis on the other monitor, saw him pacing and wringing his hands with worry. And that was the other question. Why hadn't Louis simply gone in?

He considered, of course, Louis' late brother. That had not happened so long ago and he'd heard from his conversations with Lestat about how seeing Paul's body, being the one to identify him at the morgue, had rattled him. Understandable.

Poor Louis…

What was Armand to do about all of this?

He had phone calls to make with his accountant, the bill for the routine elevator service to settle, and lots of documents to shred -the highlight of any day of work, getting to use the shredder. He couldn't even get himself excited for it now.

A knock came on his door, startling him upright.

"Come in…"

The door burst wide and in stepped a frantic Louis.

Oh, thank goodness…

 

---

 

Daniel had just begun to nod back off, his bladder just on the verge of letting go, when another knock came on his door. This one was much gentler, much more of a polite query rather than a demand.

"Daniel?" Armand's silky voice traveled through to the bedroom, filtering in through the half-hazy fog of near-dreaming.

Still not ideal, but Daniel would take it. At least he'd had two instances of Armand rebuffing him to hold up in front of his own stupid face.

"Yeah!" he hollered back. "I'm in here! Uh…"

"I'm coming in…"

Shit.

But how else was Daniel to get out of this situation? He took a deep breath and let it out, listening as the door opened. He could not hear the sound of footsteps for the carpet and for the fact that Armand had the lightest step Daniel had ever witnessed. His only tell that Armand had ventured further into the apartment was how much nearer his voice sounded when he asked:

"Are you decent?"

A burst of laughter escaped Daniel and he turned his head to wipe tears that were maybe a mix of gratitude, hangover self-pity, and relief against his upper arm.

"Uh… Not exactly," he answered.

"Should I wait?"

That wouldn't do anyone much good, Daniel supposed. Best to just rip the bandage off.

"Listen, you're gonna see me in… a state, here. I just want you prepared."

"I've managed this building for quite some time, Daniel, I've seen plenty of-"

"I don't know about that. Look, I'm sort of… I'm tied to the bed and I need your help to…" Daniel sighed. His cheeks were burning and even playing it off as a funny little pickle he'd gotten himself into, even having the self-deprecating sense of humor that he had, this was hard. "I need you to come untie me, but I don't have any clothes on…"

There was a beat of silence and then, Armand's soft and understanding voice. "Oh, I see…"

"You're gonna get an eyeful and I don't want you to think that…"

Where was he going with this?

"I don't want you to think that I set this up to put you in a weird position or-"

"How might you have tied yourself to the bed, Daniel?"

The voice was sounding closer still and it drew Daniel's attention to the doorway where Armand stood, eyes large and shockingly unsurprised to see the state he was in. Maybe this guy was just that much of a saint. Maybe he had the discipline to keep his amusement off his face, to not make Daniel feel worse or more ashamed.

"Jesus…" Instinctively, Daniel's thigh came up to cover himself, the cold stickiness of last night's protection adhering itself to his skin and making him cringe.

"Would you believe me if I told you I've handled much worse?"

Daniel was too surprised to answer that. He watched the man in his brown tweed suit, cut for the prior decade and complete with elbow patches, circle round to the side of the bed. He crouched to the floor and then rose up again, eyes following the red silk all the way to his wrist.

"How'd she do?" Daniel heard himself ask, sarcastically.

"Hm?" Armand circled to the other side and Daniel's gaze followed. "This is quite an unsafe practice…"

No shit, Sherlock.

"Yeah, I didn't exactly plan it…"

"I'm glad you knew better than to struggle."

Daniel blinked. Now that was… something…

Before he had the time to consider the implications, the skin of the back of Armand's knuckles was brushing against him, then cool fingers were circling his wrist as Armand tugged and slipped the silk binding free. He began to rub at Daniel's wrist, working the blood back in gently, sending painfully pleasurable tingles up his arm, into his own fingertips, and nearly making him lose the hold he'd been maintaining on his bladder.

He squeezed his thigh against himself tighter, pinching off the urge, and caught Armand's eyes shifting to him there.

Aw, jeez…

"Did you quarrel?" Armand asked, leaving his free wrist and coming around the bed again to untie the other.

"No," Daniel said, scratching his nose and rubbing at his eyes. He'd never take having the use of his hands for granted again, he swore to himself. "Didn't even know her."

"I see…"

"Alright, this is humiliating enough, I don't need the judgment."

"I'm not judging," Armand insisted as he loosened the other wrist and give it the same, tender treatment as before. "Does it sound like I am?"

Daniel considered it. "No…"

"You're free."

Daniel sat up, eyes on Armand's as he turned his body the best he could with the counteracting force of the water under him. He kept his eyes on Armand as if to hold him in place while, obscured from his view, he removed the filled green latex from his flaccid cock.

Once the eye contact was broken and he was shuffling himself out of the bed, he asked, "you're not going to tell Louis how you found me, right?"

He heard Armand sigh, himself.

"Louis explained his concerns, he is just beyond your door. He can likely hear us which will do much to put him at ease."

Yeah… So Louis'd probably told Armand about what happened the last time Daniel got himself into a situation.

Great.

"I feel like I should tell you it was just alcohol," Daniel said for himself as he stepped a little ways into the bathroom, turning on the light and tossing the rubber into the trash. He was shocked statue-still when, in the reflection of the mirror, he saw Armand's figure behind him, the torn foil wrapper of the condom held between two fingers as he walked back out of Daniel's view in the bedroom.

"I believe you," his voice said. "Shall I go to comfort Louis?"

Daniel kicked the door closed. "Yeah, do that. I'll be out in a minute to apologize…"

 

---

 

Louis couldn't keep the scrutiny from his face. He could feel it wrinkling the corners of his eyes as he looked Armand up and down.

Off… Always something a little off…

"He's a little hungover, but otherwise fine. He requested that I not tell you how I found him."

Well, that told Louis all he needed to know. He couldn't put his finger on it. Was the guy just so fundamentally lacking in his social life that he did not understand these things or was he a gossip? It was hard to tell, considering who he kept on his staff.

"So, the woman…?"

"Gone. Long gone, it seemed. Absconded with the cash that was in his wallet and disappeared into the night."

"And does he know that I-"

Armand nodded, gravely. "He seemed to have guessed that it was you who tipped me off."

Louis winced. Things could not be getting more awkward. "I wasn't listening in last night or anything, I just… Like I said, in the hall, I could hear-"

"I don't believe he thinks you were."

Louis felt an intrinsic resistance to accepting comfort from Armand, but he took it regardless. It did help to put him at ease, after all.

"Thanks."

Armand smiled, a silence stretching between them in which Louis felt a little held in place. Armand's eyes were like quicksand, drinking him in and a panic began to rise back up his gullet.

"Uh, and another thing, since I have you."

"Mm, all yours," Armand nodded eagerly.

Uh-huh…

"My baby cousin is going to be staying with me. Whatever I've got to do to get her added to the lease and have a key made."

Armand's eyebrows arced up in a show of surprise. "Oh! Claudia, correct?"

Again, Louis felt his eyes narrow. "That's right. Surprised you remember her…"

"I've a good memory for names. She is of age, isn't she?"

"Yeah, I mean… yes. What's that got to-"

"Well, she'll need to be added to the lease properly, in that case. Since she's over 18, she's legally an adult, and it'd be one thing if I did not know, but since you've told me-"

"Does that mean the rent goes up?" Louis interrupted.

Armand's face froze. He blinked, his lips parted, his head cocking to the side and for a moment, Louis wondered if he'd somehow broken him. If a spring were about to pop loose out of the man's neck, revealing him to be some sort of automaton. He wouldn't be all that surprised.

"No," Armand answered with a shake of the head. "No, I'd make an allowance. I understand the situation with your family is… a difficult matter."

I'm gonna wring Lestat's neck, Louis thought. He'd probably ran his mouth to Eglee who, in turn, ran hers to Santiago. And Santiago, of course, worked closest with Armand. It always came back to Lestat. The source of just about every pain in Louis' ass, the good and the bad.

Before Louis could think of a diplomatic response that didn't give away his discomfort at how much Armand seemed to know about his life despite no memory of speaking with him about it, Daniel stepped out of his apartment and into the hall, dressed a little haphazardly and looking worse for wear. He wore a slight bruise and a cut high on his cheekbone which Louis, again, felt his face react to without his permission.

"You should see the other guy," Daniel joked, untucking his t-shirt from the top of his jeans. "I, uh… glad you were still out here. Wanna get the awkward 'hey, look, I'm okay' and 'sorry to worry you' bit over with while I've still got the humiliation adrenaline in me."

Louis couldn't help a smirk. "'Humiliation adrenaline?'"

"Also sorry I didn't answer when you knocked. I just… Well. Suffice it to say that Armand really took one for the team coming to my rescue."

"Are you going to file a police report on the girl? I'm willing to corroborate what I saw of her in the hall."

"You saw us in the hall?" Daniel asked, sounding as though his heart were sinking a little.

"Not much. Heard voices, looked through the peephole, then thought I should mind my own business."

Did he sound a little confronting? He hadn't meant to, but by Daniel's reaction it was hard to tell. He could see the man grappling behind his eyes to come up with an excuse.

"Because it's not my business," Louis added. "Of course."

"I'm only happy that we've fostered enough of a community here where we can all rest assured that we're looking out for one another," Armand cut in, putting a pin in it. "Daniel is unscathed-"

"Well, mostly," Daniel tacked on.

"-and I will make a note that Claudia will be added to your lease, Louis. I'll just need a copy of her state issued ID to put on file."

Louis caught Daniel's perplexed look, set it aside and nodded Armand's way. "Yeah. Of course. Once she's here, we'll run it by your office first thing."

"Wonderful," Armand clapped his palms together. "Well, is there anything else I can do for either of you while I'm up here?"

Like he's eager for an excuse to stay…

It was perhaps a bit of an uncharitable thought, but Louis could not help how off-putting he found the man. "Think we're good here," he said with a tacit smile.

"Yeah, all good," Daniel agreed. "Thanks, again."

"Absolutely any time."

And then Armand turned, leaving them for the elevator. Louis got the distinct impression that he and Daniel's discussion was not quite finished with and that the two of them were simply waiting for Armand to be out of sight and earshot. Like it was an unspoken agreement, they stood in waiting silence while Armand pressed the button twice, muttering to himself before the light went green and the whirring in the shaft could be heard.

Awkward. Fucking awkward, all of this…

When the elevator door opened, Armand stepped inside, turned around, and in the fleeting seconds before the door closed over him, Louis thought he saw a bone-deep sadness there. That nagging worry within him that his thoughts could be heard as if spoken out loud, especially when they were cruel, began to creep up his neck and into his skull again. He shook his head, playing it off with a smile.

"Think I'll be taking the stairs for a while," he said, an offering to strike back up and fill the silent void.

Daniel waved it off. "Old building. Elevator's kept up this long, right?"

"Not everyone likes to take all their walks on the wildside, Danny."

 

---

 

He deserved that, he supposed. Were they neighbors, almost-lovers, friends, or all three? And in what amounts, Daniel wondered.

"Listen," he began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You have a cut on your cheek."

"Yeah…"

"You were robbed?"

Daniel sighed. "How impossible are you gonna make it for me to walk away with my dignity here?"

"From where I'm standing, you haven't got much to cling to."

"Ouch."

Louis laughed, something kind in his eyes, and Daniel found himself laughing too. Right, they were comfortable with one another. That was the impetus for all of this, after all; the ease with which they could talk without their guards up. So Daniel lowered his.

"Well, you wanna invite me in for some of that first-rate espresso? I could use it…"

They sat down on Louis' couch, their mugs of steaming espresso and milk in hand.

"She's really quiet for her age. Doesn't go out and party, doesn't date, takes her studies seriously."

"You know, the drape isn't really so hideous, either. Could be worse. Makes your apartment look like an artist's studio or something."

"I guess what I'm saying is, we won't cause a disturbance."

"And I really don't know why you feel the need to say it," Daniel shrugged. "After the disturbance I just caused."

"I guess it's a little comforting to know that we can't hear each other when we're in our bedrooms."

Daniel nodded, sipping his still-too-hot coffee and wincing at the singe. "Yeah. Well…"

"So, back to the ladies, huh?" Louis asked with a tease.

Daniel sighed. Heavy and long. "She came off like a fan, at first. Thought she was one. Had all the hallmarks."

"And she took you for a mark…"

"Easy. She knew who I was. She might've even read the book."

"She played you."

"Big time."

"So how'd you get the cut on your cheek? You fight her?"

"No! God, of course not! That came after she'd tied me to the bed."

"Still can't believe you let her do that. A stranger, Danny…"

"Listen," Daniel said in defense of himself, "nine out of ten times, when a girl wants to tie you up, you're in for the lay of a lifetime. You're actually stupid if you turn her down…"

"Right," Louis said, dubiously. "And that 10% where she robs you instead?"

"'Instead?'"

"Jesus, Danny…"

"I consented to it!"

"Before or after she went through your wallet?"

"Before," Daniel answered sheepishly, compelled to honesty for some terrible reason. "But you know, if she'd wanted another ride after…"

Louis erupted. "I can't believe I almost fucked you."

"Hey!"

"Kidding. Mostly."

"I guess there wasn't much of a point in trying to preserve my mystique by waiting for Armand to bust in and save me, then, huh…"

Louis bared his teeth, sucking air through them in a grimace. "Yeah, the thing about that guy… he never forgets a single detail. Last month, he brought up the resort Lestat and I stayed at for vacation two years ago. If his memory's as photographic as it is sticky…"

Daniel winced at the thought of how he must've looked. How his sad, flaccid green penis must've looked.

Unfortunate.

"At least he didn't seem too bothered about it. Seemed most of his judgment was reserved for the lack of safety precautions 'Raven' took with me."

Louis raised his eyebrow at the drop of the name Raven, but did not comment.

"I mean… he does seem to care a lot about his tenants," Daniel rambled on. "That's nice."

"Yeah," Louis feigned agreement with a nod, a bitter sort of sarcasm evident in his tone. "He's real nice and normal."

"Ah. Right. Forgot he's been campaigning for your ex. Sorry."

"It isn't-" Louis sighed. "I don't dislike the guy, or anything. I mean, it'd be hard to really have it out for him when he's so…"

"Alien?"

"Something like that."

"Like a benevolent bug or something."

"With antennae too damn long for his own good. He's in the spinodex but I'm not sending him Christmas cards or anything, if that paints the picture."

"How long have you been dodging his friendly advances?"

"Oh, that makes me sound awful." Louis gave a self-conscious laugh.

"You're talking to the guy who got drunk and brought home the chick who tied him to the bed and robbed him last night."

"Been living here something like five years now? Or close to it…"

"Wow. And he's been a fixture?"

"He was here when Lestat decided to move us into the building. There was some sort of history there, I don't know really. Lestat said he didn't remember him, but I guess they'd met when they were younger once or twice, through the dance company. I don't pretend to understand all of that. Wealthy donor class elbow-rubbing, patronage, the arts but not the kind of art I deal in."

Daniel cocked his head, spotting a loose thread there. He thought better than to tug it at first, but then he thought again, his curiosity getting the better of him. "You think of dancing as something other than real art?"

"I didn't say that. That's… not how I feel, exactly. I know that what Lestat does is a form of art. I know that he uses his body as an instrument of expression, of course. What I meant was… The ballet. That's a work that's been passed down, transcribed and re-shaped over and over. There's a lot of technical skill involved, and I'm not discounting how impressive all of that is, it's just… so far removed from the original artist at this point."

"You think the art gets watered down."

"I think that what's expressed in a collective versus a singular artist and their brush, where every stroke is imbued with that one individual's intent, well… I think it's just a different thing. Not better or worse. Different."

Daniel could tell from the way Louis minced his words that this subject carried the weight of some probable past arguments between him and Lestat. He'd poked the bear and it'd grumbled, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

Best just to let it lie.

 

 

 

Notes:

Sorry for the visual of Daniel's limp green penis.

Chapter 6: a glistening, sun-steeped angel

Summary:

Daniel makes the acquaintance of Claudia and discovers something beautiful and strange on the roof

Patience made the first drag all the sweeter. He'd picked up a pack before his breakfast, two cups of coffee, sunny side up eggs, hashbrowns, and toast. Now the nicotine was spiking his blood and Daniel, again, knew satisfaction. What could be better?

A stupid question for an addict to be asking himself…

He pushed away the thought of exactly what could be better and jogged across the street once the pedestrian light gave him the clear. The morning sun was warm through his leather jacket. It hadn't quite been up yet when he'd left his apartment and now the air still held a leftover chill. He could tell it was shaping up to be a warm day. A nice day. Maybe he'd open the windows and let it in when he got back. Maybe it'd inspire him some.

For now, he decided to enjoy it by finishing his smoke. He whirled around, leaning against the carved column outside The Palazzo, drawing smoke into his lungs and feeling his breakfast settle in him.

"Got a spare I could bum?"

A small voice with a slight rasp to it and a charming drawl brought Daniel out of his solitary thoughts as a small-statured girl heaved a much-too-large duffel bag from over her shoulder, dropping it down to the concrete at their feet. She had another two bags slung about the other side and a rolling suitcase in toe.

"Uh…"

"Come on, don't hold out…"

Daniel was charmed further by a big, cat-like grin that made the corners of the girl's mouth pierce her rounded cheeks. Her dimples gave way to more guilt for what Daniel was about to do next.

"These things stunt your growth, you know," he said as he pulled the pack from his breast pocket, flipped it open, and held it out to her. If he was going to be the guy giving cigarettes to teens, at least he could assuage some of his guilt with a disclaimer.

Scoffing, the girl plucked one out and planted it between her lips. She leaned in for Daniel to light it, a careful hand cuffing them against the morning breeze. She was short enough that for a moment all he saw was the lavender of her wool beret which was just on the verge of being unseasonable. Not that Daniel had any room to judge in his year-round cool guy leather jacket. He could feel two damp patches of sweat growing under each of his arms beneath it.

When the girl pulled back, smoke lit, she blew a puff out of the side of her mouth like a real veteran of the habit and smirked.

"How old do you think I am?"

Daniel did not want that pin to prick his bubble of plausible deniability. "37," he said dryly.

"Funny. Well, I'm actually old enough to buy my own, I just didn't have any time. You live here?"

Daniel sucked his own down to the filter and stubbed it out on the column behind him before walking the butt over to the ashtray stand. "Yep," he answered, keeping it curt.

"Neat. Well, I'll owe you one, then, 'cause I'm actually moving in today."

Daniel had just been about to say his goodbye and head inside when it hit him. The accent, the luggage, the deep color of the girl's skin…

Shit.

At least that told him she was co-ed age. He put all his guilt about the cigarette to bed after they made one another's offical acquaintance and offered to help carry her luggage into the lobby.

"Thanks," she said with another cheery-cheeked smile, rolling what was left of her smoke to the side of her mouth as she hoisted her duffel bag back up. Daniel took both the other bags from her and together they walked into the lobby.

"Met the neighbor!" Claudia called and Daniel saw that Louis was already standing by, waiting at Santiago's desk.

He felt swept up by happenstance, a little dizzy at how consistently eventful his mornings were turning out to be here, and a little concerned for how Louis might take to his cousin smoking a cigarette Daniel had given her.

"I see she's got you doing her bidding already," Louis said. "She ask you or tell you?"

Daniel sputtered, coming to a stop in front of him and letting the heavy bags pull him into a prostrated stoop. Claudia dropped the duffel and leapt at Louis with arms spread out for a hug, sending him stumbling back. And what timing, Daniel thought. He kept his mouth shut.

"Hey! Watch it with that thing, you're gonna burn a hole through my ear," Louis laughed.

"Do be careful, dear," Santiago warned from his desk. "The floors have just been buffed…" His eyes were burning into the treadmarks the rubber wheels of Claudia's rolling suitcase had left on the floor. "Wouldn't want anyone taking a spill and bumping their head…"

Louis set her back down on the floor and took the nearly-finished cigarette from between her lips, cocking his head as if waiting for an explanation.

Don't tell him I gave it to you, don't tell him I gave it to you-

"He gave it to me," she said with a shrug.

Daniel was split on whether he found the look Louis gave him foreboding or a little sexy. Perhaps it was both. Still, he was invited to help with Claudia's bags once more; he with the large duffel and the rolling suitcase, Louis with both the others, leaving Claudia to walk in attendance, free of burden. Daniel shot Louis a look of his own.

"She hoofed it from two blocks away, didn't you hear her?"

"Cabbie was about to take me up two more before getting us turned around and I didn't want to pay extra fare for his stupidity," Claudia said, rubbing the shoulder that had supported the heavy bags.

"A Cool Strike smoking princess in the building," Daniel remarked.

The elevator closed the three of them in and in haphazard chorus-line fashion, they did the obligatory pivot around to face the doors. Daniel felt a small kick at the back of his leg followed by a hushed laugh from Louis.

"The respect a guy gets after helping her majesty with her bags."

"I don't take shit from white boys in stupid leather jackets."

Stupid leather- "Guess we could talk about that beret. This is New Graven, not-"

Daniel was cut off as the elevator jerked a little between the 3rd and 4th floor. When it picked back up, the whirring pull of cables interrupted the alarmed silence and all tension was dispelled when Louis lead the charge in laughing it off.

"Stairs are always an option," he said.

"Thank god."

When the doors opened on their floor, Claudia nearly toppled Daniel to get out. She hadn't found the little mechanical hiccup the least bit amusing.

"Oh, fuck this!"

Her indignation hardly registered as Daniel stepped out behind her, and then he saw…

"Claudia. Welcome home."

In a huff, Claudia turned with her hands on her hips as Louis sighed behind Daniel and the elevator doors closed after them, trapping the four of them together in the hall.

"Lestat," Louis groaned. "I told you not to-"

"It's been nearly a year since I've seen her, Louis, of course I would-"

"Louis," Claudia groaned, turning away from Lestat and giving Louis a warning look.

"May I at least give her a gift?" Lestat humbly asked.

Daniel made himself as small as possible, gently lowering the duffel to the floor and coming to the quick conclusion that even his own apartment might be a little too close to the fire breaking out here for comfort. He slipped back to the elevator, hitting the button and waiting as Louis broke out in clunky French and Lestat detonated in anger. Claudia's enraged voice followed soon after, a mix of French and English running alongside the already cacophonous chorus.

The door took it's sweet time before, at last, dinging and opening to him. He shuffled in and hit the button for the lobby.

The doors remained open.

Fuck.

He hit the button again and all the buttons on the panel lit up.

Fuckkkkk.

Okay, so he'd try the next floor down. He'd get off and take the stairs from there, preserving the dignity he'd sacrifice if he walked out to take them now.

Nothing.

"Jesus Christ, this thing," he grumbled, running his palm up and down the panel until all the lights were blinking on and off and on and then off again, leaving only one lit up as the doors finally shuttered closed and muffled the brawl taking place on the other side.

The roof. Daniel felt himself shoot up the shaft, jerking and shaking along the way, which… well… he'd shut that little anxiety valve off for now. It wasn't like he'd spent the better part of the last handful of years tempting fate, anyway.

Besides, his tour of the building hadn't included the roof and Daniel was nothing if not curious. The door opened out onto the smooth cement expanse, walled in all around with chain-link fencing. As he stepped out, he turned to look at the brick-enclosed structure that housed the upper part of the shaft, elevated and solitary. When he whirled back the other way, he noticed the circular picnic tables, old faded umbrellas wrapped around their staffs in the center of the table-tops. What looked to be a disused and shuttered concession stand, a spiraling blue plastic slide and a diving board.

Nobody'd told him this place had a rooftop pool…

And a big one by the look of it. Large enough to swim laps, deep enough for a diving board on one end. In the center of the pool were four Corinthian columns jutting up to nowhere, capped with elegant scroll-work and seemingly carved from marble. A strange and gaudy choice, Daniel thought, but who was he? Betty Stewart? Just what the fuck did Daniel Molloy know about good taste?

He approached the pool, bringing the depth-marker on the end into his field of vision as he went. Twelve feet, it read. Respectable. As he paced closer, revealing the bottom of the pool, his heart caught in his throat. Like the beautifully patterned scales of a fish, a colorful fresco tile bottom unfolded. Chipped in some spots, perhaps a little faded by the sun, but revealing something. A picture. Daniel took several more paces before-

He jumped back.

What he'd thought he'd seen, some green translucent plastic, black curls, the glistening brown skin of someone's forehead and aviator sunglasses…

"What the hell…?"

Preparing himself, he cautiously approached. The sun was behind him, casting his shadow long ahead of him as he came upon the scene. The tiles at the bottom of the pool came together to form a mosaic of The Birth of Venus. Right in the center was Armand, reclining nearly nude, wearing nothing but a tiny red bathing suit on a blown-up pool floaty. He had a sun reflector opened against his chest and as Daniel's head encroached, blocking the rays, he startled.

"Holy shit!" Daniel said aloud. "You scared the hell out of me."

Armand was scrambling, not answering, and then Daniel realized he was fighting with a pair of headphones over his ears, attempting to cast them off. It was difficult for Daniel not to let his eyes travel over Armand when the muscles of his stomach flexed, as they crunched under the otherwise soft folds of his belly, sweat trickling into the creases. And the man's chest… His legs…

Hooooly shit…

"Daniel!" Armand said at last, as though he were being prevented from speaking so long as he could not hear.

The sound of some kind of classical music, tinny and small, was coming through the headphones and Armand continued scrambling to hit stop on the small yellow casette player, knocking over a half-empty bottle of Bolt brand cream soda.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"How've you gotten… Why are you-" Armand clamored off the floaty and got to his feet, throwing his hand over his forehead to further shield his eyes as he stared up at Daniel.

"The elevator was acting funny and it just… It took me up…" Forcing his eyes to stop raking Armand over, he cocked his head around him, checking out the fresco again. "You didn't tell me there was a pool up here."

"There isn't. I mean, not anymore. It's been shut down for ages, as you can see…"

"It's stunning…"

Armand sniffed, bending to gather up the floaty which he tossed over the side before lifting the soda bottle to his lips and emptying it between both paws. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and then tucked the bottle into the side of his…

What would you even call that thing? A bikini?

Then he took the cassette player over to the ladder to climb out. "Yes. Well it would need a lot of work to restore it to its former glory. Expensive work."

Daniel watched his arm tense and flex as he pulled himself up and out, the machine in his right hand forcing his left arm to take on all the work, the empty glass bottle managing to stay in place with each step. Daniel's throat felt suddenly dry. He sucked on his cheeks a little, hoping to wake his salivary glands back up, and swallowed before speaking again.

"Uh, you… uh…" Come on, Daniel, you're falling all over yourself for your LANDLORD. "You come up here a lot?"

Armand approached one of the picnic tables where Daniel could see there was a towel and an ornate quilted robe slung. Black and gold and totally inappropriate for rooftop sunbathing, he thought. But, again, what did he know?

"Not often," Armand answered, lifting his sunglasses to the top of his head as he removed the bottle from his bathing suit. He began toweling off his face, his neck, and then his torso.

My god…

"I don't get much opportunity, but it was so nice out this morning and I thought Santiago could be trusted to keep a watch on things while I snuck away as a little treat."

"For some sun," Daniel said, dubiously. He hadn't meant it to come off the way he feared it would, but then… well…

"I'm told quite often by certain tenants that I look like I could use some vitamin D. After a little research, I found that the sun can be an excellent source."

Daniel blinked. "Yeah. I guess… Straight from the source, huh?" He laughed, a little nervous but it gave him a welcome point to pivot. "Well, guys like me, we burn easy, so…"

"Surely not under all those layers." Armand belted the heavy robe around his waist, nestled the bottle into one of its pockets, big enough to disappear it entirely, and nodded towards Daniel's jacket.

"It was cooler this morning when I went out." He'd never had to explain himself for his jacket so many times in a day. He was beginning to feel a little self-conscious about it, but then he remembered who it was he was speaking to here. "You should get yourself a terrycloth robe. Better suited to the poolside, I think."

"Yes. Terrycloth. I'll keep that in mind."

He said it as though he were really making a mental note, taking it to heart, and again Daniel found himself hopelessly charmed by just how strange this man was.

"Well, should we go down?" He pointed his thumb behind him, back to the elevator. "Or is there another way…"

"There are fire-escape stairs but they are treacherous and I am barefoot."

Daniel's eyes dropped down to Armand's feet which were, indeed, bare. They were pressed together, carefully keeping to the perimeters of Daniel's shadow. They'd no doubt burn if he were to stand on the concrete in one place too long.

"You didn't bring a pair of thongs or anything?" Daniel asked.

Armand shook his head. "I don't own any, I'm afraid."

Daniel had a fleeting flash of a thought catch in his head. Entirely fanciful, of course. He wouldn't dare to offer in this moment, but the thought of carrying the man across the cement did occur to him. The vision bore all the fanfare and romance of a heroic daydream, but in reality the man looked solid and too tall not to be a struggle for Daniel. Not that Daniel was weak by any measure, just a little out of shape. He was a writer, after all.

"Well, we better move quick. Wouldn't want those pr-" Daniel cleared his throat, "those feet to burn…"

He did allow himself to link his arm through with Armand's before they scuttle-shuffled their way to the elevator door and its blessed shadow cast over the concrete. Perfect, because despite hitting the button three times, the elevator door would not open.

"Ah…" Armand said, saying nothing else.

"What?" Daniel mashed the button again. "This thing hasn't moved. It let me off, doors closed, and it's just been sitting here so it's not like-"

"Not to worry," Armand interrupted. "There was a small hiccup with the processing of a payment to our repairmen, but I…"

Daniel watched his face contort in thought a moment before he straightened it back out.

"Yes, I believe it's all sorted. We missed our scheduled maintenance this month, but the Phams said they'd be out to make it up within the week."

"Well that's encouraging," Daniel muttered sarcastically.

Finally the doors opened to them and they stepped in.

"How're your feet?" Daniel asked as the doors shuttered, leaving them enclosed in their 8'x5' box. He hit the button for the lobby and settled back against the handrail behind him.

"Well they won't peel this time," Armand said, leaning against the side of the elevator and lifting his left foot over his knee to inspect.

Daniel's gaze traveled again, and again he cleared his throat. "Uh… Shouldn't it be…"

"Ah!" Armand set his foot back down and reached forward to hit the button for the basement. "Lately it's been lagging and you don't want to overload it with commands, but if you give it more than one floor, sometimes, it's like a kick in the seat."

Daniel wasn't certain if it was cute that the man seemed to be anthropomorphizing the janky box they stood in or if it made him nervous. Like they were standing in the mouth of some beast that could swallow them up. The whirring sound kicked in, that nylon slide of cables, smooth until it wasn't. Until there was a piercing snap, a thwack against the side of the elevator and a steep drop as the lights flickered on and off and Daniel thought, surely, the last thing he'd see in this life was the face of a glistening, sun-steeped angel.

 

Notes:

I sure hope Dennis Hopper isn't in the elevator shaft screwing around...

Chapter 7: Here’s your chance, loverboy

Summary:

Claudia meets a new frenemy, Daniel and Armand hit it off while hanging by a thread.

Daniel's arms scrambled in the dark, feeling over cold marble until they hit something warm and smooth.

"Daniel?"

"Armand? Are you…" He gripped over the thing his fingertips had made contact with and realized, suddenly, that he was holding was the man's foot. "Ah! Sorry…" He let go and scrambled away until his back hit the wall with a slam, causing the lights to flicker back on overhead and reveal that while he had gone down to the floor in the upheaval, Armand managed to stay upright. He was tall, looming over him, now, and he extended his hand to help Daniel to his own feet.

"Apologies," he said.

Daniel's heart pounded in his ears. He hadn't had a rush like that since…

Well, since something he probably shouldn't think back on with such relish, actually. He stood, getting his equilibrium back and gingerly stepped back to lean against the rail as though that were safer. The lights blinked off again, then back on.

"What the hell just happened…"

Armand sighed deeply, head falling back on his shoulders as he blinked up at the ceiling of the little box. "I suppose our monthly service might have been more than precautionary. In hindsight, I should have expected trouble considering that the elevator was not renovated along with the rest of the building. It's hard not to have faith in the things that have, up til now, stood the test of time. Solid as the Colosseum, I was always told."

Daniel watched him, petrified to move or even speak again for clarification.

"I once conquered my own fear of elevators in this very car some 20 years ago." Armand's gentle hand moved out, the dramatic bell of his robe's sleeve making his fingers look all the more slender as he ran them over the wall in wistful remembrance. "Funny how the endurance of things can often lead to your disillusion with them."

Daniel could not wrap his mind around how calm Armand seemed, couldn't wrap his mind around a lot of things, but at the same time, the calm helped to put him at ease. "You… you're not scared?" His own palms were growing sweaty already, slipping around the handrail.

"Well I wouldn't say I'm pacified, Daniel. This is quite a concern, I'm certain I heard a cable snap. We fell, suspended short, I'd say…" Armand cocked his head to the side as if calculating. "Hmm, by my estimation, it must've been three floors."

"Shit, man…"

"Indeed. But-!" Armand said it so encouragingly that Daniel could feel himself leaning forward a bit, keen to hear the resolution.

"But…?"

"There is a special button we get to press." Armand pointed to the panel three feet from Daniel's hip. "Of course, the temptation has always been there, but there's never been an emergency until now. How lucky for us…"

This guy…

"Lucky?" Daniel laughed, his nerves behind each syllable. "Armand, we could've… Could still…"

"I loathe broken glass, but I do love the satisfaction shattering it brings. I would cede the honor to you, Daniel…"

Daniel inspected the little red-lined glass case, the tiny red mallet beside it, connected by a chain. He'd admit it did appeal to that 14 year old boy sensibility still alive within him. It seemed to excite Armand a whole lot more, however. He carefully took a step to his right, gesturing for Armand to have at it.

"You're certain?" Armand asked, his eyes trailing from the glass case and up to Daniel's, nearly pleading as his lips trembled over his eyeteeth.

"Yeah," Daniel shrugged. "Go nuts. I pulled my fair share of fire alarms as a kid, it's out of my system."

As if he'd been given special dispensation to handle the holy grail, Armand's dark eyes flashed up to Daniel's again, like he couldn't be sure, like he needed confirmation. Daniel gave him an encouraging nod and Armand's fingers ghosted over the glass before they took up the tiny mallet.

"Well," he said, a giggling madness under his words, "here goes."

Daniel watched him crouch a little and line up the hit, testing it once, twice, and then smashing it. Tinkling glass scattered on the floor, some shards larger than others and darkly Daniel thought that at least if worse came to worst and no one came to their rescue, there was still a way out that wasn't starvation or suffocation.

Or baking to death, his subconscious helpfully offered. The temperature in the car was rising, after all.

The silence stretched on, the mallet still poised in Armand's hand, and the increasing discomfort Daniel felt in the quiet moved him to fill it.

"Everything you dreamed it would be?"

"No," said Armand, not quite forlorn but enlightened. "Hmm."

Poor guy…

"Sometimes we build things up so much in our hearts, there's no way reality can measure up to it."

"Sage," Armand agreed. He let the mallet drop and pressed the button with crestfallen resignation.

The alarm sounded, not within the car, but loud enough in the building proper that they could still hear it. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

"Great. So, how long do you think?"

"Well," Armand whirled around to lean against the opposite wall, shoving his hands into the big swallowing pockets of his robe. "The alarm goes straight to the fire department. Because we're an apartment building, I suspect they will arrive in record time. The tenants will discover that the elevator is out of order in their scrambling and then Santiago will call on the Phams."

"So, what, like an hour you think?"

Armand blinked his big eyes and frowned.

"Two hours?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say probably four."

"Four hours?!"

"But I am a novice at best when it comes to these things. All I know is what I've read in some books on circuitry that I got from the library."

"Brother," Daniel groaned, sliding down to the floor in a slump.

"Oh! Do be careful of the glass, Daniel!"

 

---

 

Louis, Lestat and Claudia had been circling each other in the apartment for what felt like an hour but was probably closer to ten minutes before divine intervention suddenly struck in the form of an unfamiliar alarm bell sounding throughout the building.

“The fuck is that?” Louis wondered aloud, looking at the ceiling out of instinct.

“Fire?” Claudia guessed. She speedily grabbed up her purse, her knees bending at the ready to sprint.

“Non, the fire alarm is more of a ‘beep beep beep.’ I have never heard this one.” Lestat opened the door for them as he spoke, nodding his head a little as if it were a grand gesture. Claudia brushed past him with a sour look and Louis followed, sighing deeply. Together, they did their best to ignore Lestat rambling at their backs about the last time the building had been evacuated at 2:00 AM and he and Louis had to scramble to find their clothes—

“Yeah, that’s what I want to hear about,” Claudia grumbled, hitting the elevator button first with her finger and then with the side of her fist, to no avail.

Louis directed her towards the stairs with a hand on her back. His heart sank further as he felt a little shake in her. He knew it wasn’t due to the alarm. Claudia may have been the first to raise her voice in the confrontation, but Louis immediately regretted letting himself and Lestat escalate in front of her like that. She had gotten her fill of men yelling around her before Aunt Patty’s deadbeat husband finally hit the road for good.

All three of them went quiet as they joined their neighbors in shuffling down one of the building’s outdated spiral staircases. Louis couldn’t help but glance at Lestat. He bit his lip between his teeth and observed the way he stared the back of Claudia’s head as they descended. He was wearing an expression of both regret and confusion that Louis might typically call his signature post-blow-up look. Except now, when directed at Claudia, it felt…

“Finally!” Claudia groaned, loud enough for the whole stairwell, as they pushed out into the lobby.

Santiago was standing on some kind of stool above the stream of tenants, waving towards the open doors. Louis found himself scanning the room for Armand, a little surprised not to find him personally supervising.

Probably too nosy not to be poking around whatever the emergency is, Louis guessed.

The crowd spilled out into the street and Louis turned again for Lestat, only to catch him walking away towards 10th Street. It should have been a relief.

A tug at his arm, and Claudia murmured: “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

Louis looked around again, unsure what he should be seeing.

“There’s that one old man over there,” she said, tilting her head slightly when Louis looked back at her. “And then eight floors of Heart Connection contestants?”

“Kind of you to say I’ve got a face for TV, sis.”

“Seriously, though.”

Yeah, Louis knew it was a little strange, but he'd grown used to it. He'd barely batted an eye when Daniel showed up looking like bachelor number three, like some divine distraction assembled in a factory just to appeal to him enough to keep his fingers out of the Lestat-shaped cookie jar. And speaking of Daniel… Louis scanned around the crowd, not finding the man. He hoped he'd just popped out to the diner for a bite.

“I know there’s some ancient couple that lives in the penthouse,” he said vacantly.

That might also explain the lack of Armand, Louis realized. Knowing him, he’d probably personally carry the old folks down the stairs on his back with a triumphant little smile. The creep.

“No kids,” Claudia said.

“Huh?”

“Eight floors, and what…five apartments on each? Not a single rugrat out here.”

“I mean, might not be a great neighborhood for ‘em,” Louis guessed. “Why, what’s your theory?”

“No theory,” Claudia admitted. “Just kinda fuckin’ wild you’re still hung up on Lestat under these circumstances.”

“Claudia.”

“Claudia,” she repeated, mocking.

“Parle plus forte s'il te plaît,” another familiar French voice sighed next to them. Madeleine, staring out into the street and muttering to herself under her breath. “Une fille s'habillant avec les vêtements de sa mère.”

Louis closed his eyes for a moment, imagining a world where the trainwreck that was about to occur might be averted. But, no, Claudia piped right up:

“QU'AS-TU DIT DE MA MÈRE?”

In the awkward silence that followed, in their immediate vicinity, Madeleine turned on her heels. She stared down at Claudia for a moment, eyes wide, before bursting into laughter.

“Oh it’s that funny, huh?” Claudia asked, drawing herself up to maybe another inch over five feet.

“Your French, dear…”

“I’ll ask in English then, what did you say about my mother?”

“She said-” Louis started.

“I asked her.”

“Alright, yes,” Madeleine nodded, settling her giggles. “I said that you look like a child dressed in her mother’s clothing.”

Louis winced as Claudia reflexively glanced down at herself.

“The length of a pencil skirt doesn’t suit a petite woman,” Madeleine went on, gesturing in the air between them. “You should wear something that hits above the knee, at the very least. The cut of the jacket is intended for a full figure you do not possess, and the hair…well, that is not my area of expertise, but—”

“I’m gonna have to stop you there-” Louis interjected, only to be cut off by Claudia waving a hand at him again.

“No, please, tell me all about it,” Claudia egged on.

It was then that Louis caught a little gleam in her eye. Definitely not his battle to fight then, as much as he had to set his jaw to avoid comment while Madeleine tilted her head in thought.

“The more I look at it the more conflicted I am, to be honest. It is stylish, of course, the way it is…zig-zag?”

“Crimped,” Claudia supplied, seemingly just to hurry Madeleine along.

“Yes. That. But you must know that the volume of it serves to make you look even more diminutive. You may as well wear pigtails.”

Louis braced himself for Claudia's response as her wide-eyed manic smile persisted.

I know this white lady did not just-

Then, to his surprise, she extended her hand.

“Claudia Boudreaux.”

Seeming amused, Madeleine took it. “Madeleine Éparvier.”

 

---

 

Daniel's jacket was in a pile, having been used to sweep and contain the broken glass so nobody was in danger of carelessly cutting themselves. Again. The shard Armand had to pull from the back of Daniel's calf had been nearly two inches in length and Armand estimated it was stuck in about half of one of those inches deep, actually penetrating through the heavy denim of his jeans and into his meat. The bleeding had slowed at last, but it'd soaked Daniel's pant leg down to the cuff, and Daniel wasn't especially squeamish but it had looked like quite a bit of blood and with the circumstances being what they were, well… could he be blamed for enlisting Armand's help? The man had been eager to offer it, anyway.

"You're a bleeder, Daniel," he said, staring at his red-tinged palms as he finally, carefully, pulled them away after a near twenty minutes of continuous pressure. "But you're a quick clotter as well. We're lucky for that."

"Yeah," said Daniel, a little dazed. "It's getting really hot in here." He watched Armand move to the far wall, his leg tingling where he was now missing the grip of the man's hands. "I don't know how you can stand wearing that thing."

"Well, it's not pleasant. I'm sweltering."

Daniel could tell. He'd watched the sweat riding the corkscrew of a curl before it dropped onto the knee of his jeans. He watched it soak in and imagined it like a salty raindrop on his own tongue. Feeling inspired, he quickly lifted his shirt over his head and used it to mop the sweat from his face. He tossed it aside when he was finished and caught sight of Armand staring his way, lips parted and lids lowered. He watched him swallow, the next breath he took shaking into him.

"Funny, isn't it?" Daniel said. "I keep injuring myself and having to take my shirt off when I'm around you."

Gaining his composure, Armand smiled politely. "Like a tired plot device. But one that excites, nonetheless."

Oh…

Daniel laughed. "Yeah. Real exciting stuff. Like The Great Neptune Adventure. Except it's just the two of us and all we're doing is sitting here waiting to get rescued."

"Help is on the way. Surely the Phams have been contacted by now."

"We could try to have a little more fun I guess. Maybe we could play a game?"

"A game?" Armand pulled the sunglasses from his head, letting his sleeve fall down his forearm before he wiped his brow on the back of his arm.

"You know, if you wanted to take that thing off, I wouldn't care."

Not true. He'd care quite a bit, but to say that he wouldn't 'mind' felt a mite too far.

"Hah," Armand gasped in relief. "I was worried you'd think me immodest-"

"I saw you in the pool already-"

"We are in such close quarters, after all," Armand finished, laughing anxiously at the way their sentences overlapped. He untied the belt around his waist and without the pretense of having anything else to look at, Daniel watched him lay the thing open, shrug out of its sleeves, and let it pool around his hips.

His body glistened with sweat under the warm overhead light. Daniel could smell him. Hot skin, sweat, and the aromatic wafts of whatever hygiene products he used, reawakened by the humidity that had been trapped between the silk and his skin. The scent was familiar and Daniel could place it exactly. It was like the locker room at the Y after the senior swim. His own grandfather's aftershave, maybe? Spicy licorice and clove. He looked fucking edible. His arms and upper chest were strongly built and capable looking, the same went for his legs. But he was softer in the middle, droplets of sweat rolling down him, getting caught in the little creases of his stomach, plastering the hair of his lower belly down flat against him in some places and pinching it into little peaked ringlets in others.

Shit… 'peaked ringlets' is good. I should write that down.

Daniel sighed deeply. "I feel less exposed, now."

"We'd be even if you took your pants off, but I don't think that's wise."

"What?" Daniel gave a nervous laugh. "I can be a gentleman…"

"A barrier to infection," Armand clarified, nodding to the floor. "Shoes track all sorts of things in."

Ah…

"A makeshift bandage," he clarified further.

"Right. Obviously."

"What sort of game did you have in mind, Daniel?"

"Oh, let's see…" Daniel feigned having to think when all along he'd had one at the ready. Opportunistic, perhaps, but it'd surely pass the time and maybe even give them both a thrill. "Have you ever played two truths and a lie?"

Armand shook his head. "I don't believe I have."

"It's easy. You tell me three things about yourself, two are true and one is a lie. I have to guess which thing is made up."

Armand smiled, teeth gleaming. "Okay, that sounds fun."

Daniel cleared his throat. "Alright. Guess I can go first. So… three things about me. I was editor at my high school's newspaper-"

"True!" Armand exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, you gotta let me get all three out…"

"I'm sorry, I… It was in the jacket of your book. I read it."

Damn. Gonna have to toss out some deeper cuts.

"I'll start over. I had a dog named Pokey when I was a kid, I had my first kiss at 14, and I played softball in middle school."

Armand squinted, cocking his head to the side just slightly. "Mmm… I'll guess that you never played softball."

"What gave it away?"

"You don't strike me as an athlete, Daniel."

Daniel supposed he had no right to be offended when he'd been the one to suggest the game and make up the lie in the first place. "Well done. Your turn."

Armand shuffled his legs, the skin of his inner thighs peeling apart before he recrossed his ankles, drawing Daniel's eye to the skimpy pair of swimming briefs he wore and the not-so-modestly concealed bulge and shape of him, nudged and jostled by the movement.

"Okay, let's see." He tapped at his chin in thought. "I once had a fancy fish at the aquarium named after me, I played… many sports in high school, and yesterday I saw a lady with a polka-dot blouse walking a poodle."

Maybe he'll get the hang of it after a couple of rounds…

"I'm gonna guess…" Daniel allowed some time to pass so it seemed as though he had to think, "you didn't play any sports?"

"No. Never have. This is fun!"

It was. Sort of. Daniel was having an alright time despite the heat, the claustrophobia, and the nagging fullness of his bladder. His leg had stopped hurting, at least, and though he didn't seem to be learning much about Armand beyond that he'd never played a sport, never had a pet, never been bowling and on and on, he was appreciating the view.

The two of them were wilting by this point, however.

"I'm too beat to come up with any more lies," Daniel said after the 11th round. "I mean, my brain is genuinely liquefying. How long do you think we've been in here?"

"Two hours is my guess."

"Shouldn't we hear something? I mean, if your repairmen were working on it-"

As if Daniel had but to say the magic word, there was a clanking, a rattling of the car, and shouting in what sounded to Daniel's half-cultured ear like Vietnamese.

"Speak of the devil," Armand said with a smile.

 

---

 

Louis managed to get Claudia away from her new friend, maybe foe — spunk-matching acquaintance, perhaps— by reminding her his car was parked in the garage down the block. Now they were waiting for food at Belle Asante, where Louis assured her Lestat probably wouldn’t think to skulk around.

"You know," she said, pointing Louis' way with a crissini, "I was really hoping your backbone would at least get you through a year…"

"Ten years is a long time, sis."

"Ten years is a long time. A long time to go pissing down the drain by fucking some random woman!"

Louis'd held back on the details, and in hindsight, he was relieved. It'd be a whole lot more mess if Claudia knew that the random woman Lestat slipped it to wasn't so random after all and, in fact, was a face Claudia would be encountering fairly regularly now.

"I wasn't exactly being warm with him, Claudia. I was shutting him out of a lot of things. He didn't even know the worst of what was going on with Paul. Some of that is on my shoulders."

"You weren't giving it up and that had him mad as an oversexed dog. Don't try to make excuses for him."

"It's not an excuse, it's… context."

"So why did you shut him out?"

Louis shrugged, snapping one of the dry, thin breadsticks between his fingers and watching the crumbs sift down to the tablecloth. "I don't know. I guess maybe because I was starting to wonder if it was happening to me, too."

The antagonism left Claudia completely then. "Like hearing things? Seeing things?"

"Hearing things, yeah." He flicked his eyes up from the table to hers, growing uncomfortable in the spotlight of her concern. "Nothing that couldn't just be old building noises."

"You grew up in an old house, Louis. Creaks and groans were your cribside lullabies."

"Yeah."

"Not hearing voices, though."

"No. No. Not seeing anything either it's more like... a feeling."

A silence stretched between them, the bustling and hushed chatter in the surrounding restaurant becoming a solid wall around them, tightening, tightening…

"Shit, that sucks," Claudia said at last, reducing it to rubble before it strangled them and they both fell away to laughter. "Well, I'm here now," she added after composing herself. "I can listen too."

"I'm supposed to be the guardian here," Louis playfully reminded her, brandishing one broken half of his crissini against hers.

She knocked it from his hand. "Of course, Daddy Lou." Her voice took on a real Boxcar Named Passion edge. "How could I eva navigate this big scary city without you."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't get out and have fun, just..."

"Just?"

"Maybe, you know, give me a call if you're gonna be back in after midnight."

Claudia sputtered. "A curfew? Oh, nuh-uh. No."

"Not a curfew! A phone call! So your cousin ain't up all night worrying about you."

"And just how am I supposed to get myself to a phone without hassle? We don't all have fancy car phones like you, Louis. Hell, some of us don't even have a car."

"Exactly. You'll be on city transport. You'll get to know where all the payphones are. I'll keep your pockets lined with quarters, don't worry."

"You're just trying to weigh me down so I don't get too far," Claudia accused, another point of a breadstick.

"You got me, sis."

 

---

 

"You weren't lonely, with no brothers or sisters?" Armand asked, eyes too wet and sympathetic for Daniel's immediate liking.

"No, I had friends! My parents pretty much had an open door for them, too. I didn't feel lonely. Maybe it's hard to believe given,” Daniel waved a hand in the direction of nothing. “All my shit. But. I think I did what I did in spite of my childhood not because of it. Dad's kind of a hardass but whose dad wasn't? Mom balanced him out. The rest was just typical suburban kid angst.”

Armand nodded as though he understood, but Daniel could see by the way the expression on his face hadn't changed one bit that he didn't.

"Anyway, what about you? I've been letting you grill me forever, now it's my turn to learn some things about Armand."

"You want to ask questions about me?"

"Yeah, of course. You know, I used to do that before I wrote a book. I used to conduct interviews and write stories for the paper. I have a natural curiosity about people and you've certainly piqued my interest."

"Have I?" If Armand could blush under these circumstances, he might've. At least, Daniel thought so.

"So what about you? Did you grow up with brothers and sisters?"

Armand hesitated, his eyes falling to the expanse of floor between them before he spoke. "I have to assume that some time before I can remember, there must have been sisters. It seems likely."

Seems likely?

"You…lost them, then?”

“One way or another,” Armand answered, finally looking back up as he added: “Still, in the foster system I was rarely alone.”

“You were in it from a really young age, then.”

“Yes. Though I don’t have much memory of that time, either.”

The gears in Daniel's head turned and turned and then jammed on a comment Armand had made when they'd first realized they were stuck. I once conquered my own fear of elevators in this very car…

“Twenty years ago, though. You would have been how old?”

Armand looked affronted, but he seemed to be thinking about it. "I believe, twenty years ago, I would have been around fifteen? Yes. Fifteen."

"Is that around where your memories begin?"

"Daniel, you're interrogating…"

"Sorry." He wasn't. "I was just surprised to hear you say you lived here that long ago. Must feel weird sometimes to manage a building you grew up in.”

Armand became something beyond sad or annoyed, he went still as a statue.

“Sometimes.”

Daniel knew the feeling of hitting a wall with a subject. He also knew how to find cracks in said wall.

“I would prefer if we discuss something else,” Armand said brusquely.

“Yeah, sure.” You got your lead, Molloy, put down the pen. “Whatcha listening to?”

Daniel gestured to the Walkbox and headphones now sitting atop Armand’s neatly-folded robe.

“Oh!” Armand immediately brightened at the change of topic. “Le Corsaire.”

“Okay, so… French.”

Armand sat prim, looking amused. “A French ballet, yes.”

Ballet? Noted.

“Kind of a classical guy, then?”

“I don’t know that I have a preferred genre. I enjoy classical music, but I also like to record songs from the radio, make copies of tapes I find.”

“Tapes you find?”

“They end up in the secondhand shop occasionally,” Armand explained. “And Santiago is kind enough to let me copy his.”

“I have a shoebox you can borrow, if you’d like.”

"A shoebox?" Armand asked, pitching forward in animated excitement.

“Mostly contemporary stuff. Not a big collection though, I’m a vinyl guy.”

“Are you of the opinion something is lost in the transfer?”

“I mean, I don’t know that it’s an opinion. Like, everyone’s gotta know they’re sacrificing sound for convenience, right? I’m probably more sour grapes about the convenience than anything though, since I gave up on the Walkbox after I pawned my second one.”

“I’m curious about your opinion on VHS casettes, then.”

“Well, pan and scan—”

“Yes!” Armand was nearly vibrating, his head nodding vigorously on his shoulders. “A horrid, horrid practice.”

“'Hey guys, you wanna watch 50% of a movie?'”

“Imagine if someone presented your book with each end of every paragraph cut off.”

“Exactly. Sucks to think about how many old movies people have barely seen.”

“Five years ago, I saw the re-release of Rhapsodies in the theater and wept.”

“Like, ‘this is what I was missing?’”

“Yes, it felt almost like a betrayal had been revealed to me." He laughed, settling back against the wall, his smile twinkling in his eyes, lingering after the discovery of their common interest. “Since then, I see everything that comes to the theater.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Like, The Septic Assailant?”

“Yes.”

“What about the skinflix that play at the Kittycat Theaters?”

Armand’s eyes darted away, the smile in them turning guilty as his jaw unhinged and the point of his tongue appeared to polish his eyetooth. “Yes,” he answered at last.

Oh… kay. Wow. Daniel forgot himself and quickly schooled his face, trying to stay cool while all the blood left his head and traveled south. He was reminded, in the auto-pilot part of his brain, that he really had to pee and he felt lucky for it. If it weren't for that, he'd probably be half-mast right now. The time it took for his limbic system to catch up with him allowed Armand to settle back into meeting his eyes again, though he'd slipped the cream soda bottle from the pocket of the robe and was now twirling it between his fingers in a show of nerves.

“I do prefer more peace and quiet during a film than those venues provide.”

Daniel forced a laugh. “You’d hate going with me then. I'm loud, I’ve got opinions.”

“I might like to hear your opinions, actually.”

Here's your chance, loverboy…

“Oh yeah? Well, on the off-chance we don’t plummet to the bottom floor today, how about tomorrow night?”

Looking not unlike an animal trapped in a corner, Armand seemed to think it over and Daniel found himself fretting that he'd shit the bed again, but he was abruptly put out of his misery when Armand nodded his head.

"Alright. I suppose I could make arrangements for Santiago to pick up some of my slack."

"You really never clock out, do you? Takes trapping you in a box to get you to take a break."

"It's a 24/7 sort of job, Mr. Molloy." He employed Mr. in such a way that Daniel was certain he was throwing the flirtation right back at him.

Oh, you are IN, buddy.

There was another clattering of tools from somewhere outside the car, down the shaft, and yet more shouting in Vietnamese.

"I fear it will be some more time, yet," Armand mused. "Let's hope the oxygen lasts."

"Don't try to freak me out. I'm doing well enough not to climb the walls." The urgency in his bladder ramped up double at the mere thought of being stuck much longer. "Say, uh… you didn't have any plans for that bottle, did you?"

 

Notes:

You didn’t think Chekhov’s soda bottle was gonna go to waste, did you?

Chapter 8: Quelle révélation...

Summary:

Daniel and Armand each receive fashion help from a couple of Frenchies and Claudia gets friendlier with one of them.

Lingering fragments of the day danced a circle behind Daniel's eyelids as he waited for sleep to take him. The smiles he'd won, the unobstructed view of Armand's body, the way he was almost invited to look. The sweat, the laughs, the secured date now on the books. If Daniel had to do the day over again, he'd choose the near-death experience every time.

Well… I might think to take a leak before getting on that damned elevator…

When their saviors Tuan and Quang Pham finally peered down at them from the hatch in the ceiling of the elevator car they they had found Armand looking like a well-oiled swimsuit model while Daniel stood disheveled, sweaty, bleeding, and hiding a bottle of his own piss behind his back. It probably said a lot about him that it hadn’t felt like the worst first impression he’d ever made.

Aspirin, the strongest fix he could allow himself, was just beginning to take down the dehydration headache. He'd probably have to piss a good five times tonight after all the water he'd banked through the evening.

Tomorrow night, 7:00, he and Armand. What were they seeing? Daniel did not know. He'd left it up to Armand who seemed to have something in mind already. Naturally, he knew what was showing. He knew all the times. Daniel was impressed with the man's recall ability.

"I just memorize it because I go so often," Armand had said modestly.

"You're a goddamn savant," Daniel had replied, regretting his words immediately, though Armand seemed not to take offense.

Armand seemed accustomed to the title. Yet another oddity that Daniel filed away to get to the bottom of later.

He rolled onto his side, wincing at the still tender portion of his cheek where Raven had smacked a bruise onto him and felt the rolling wave of the water rise behind him, then swell in front of him, rocking him slow and easy.

I hope Louis won't be totally disgusted…

The last thought to flicker behind his eyes and snuff out before the tendrils of sleep wrapped around him like smoke.

 

---

 

He woke to a knock on his door.

"I'm not standing out there alone. I need a smoking buddy and you need to get some pants on. It's after 9."

He stood in his rattiest pair of jeans, his torn 1221 shirt, and his now glass-free leather jacket, leaning against the column while Claudia sat nearby on the step.

"Heard about the elevator. That must've been scary."

Daniel shrugged. "Mostly it was just hot."

"Louis said the super was with you?"

"The building manager. Yeah."

"Were you able to leverage it for a break on rent?"

Daniel laughed. "No. The guy's sort of done a lot for me already. I'm not trying to hustle him."

Claudia leaned back on her elbows, breathing out an impressive lungful for someone so small. "Louis says he's a weirdo."

"He's… strange. Yeah."

"A freak."

"Alright. Didn't your mother ever tell you it isn't nice to talk shit on strangers?"

"Louis said it. He's not a stranger to him. By Louis' own account, he wouldn't stand to be."

"Well, I happen to think the guy's alright. It's kinda bumming me out to hear you badmouth him like that."

Claudia nodded, watching the far side of the street. "Oh," she said suddenly, clipped and knowing.

Daniel huffed. "Oh?"

She shrugged. "So it's like that, then."

"Like what?"

"You like him."

"Yeah, I mean… I just said that…"

"Too bad, really."

"And why's that?"

He couldn't believe he was letting someone's kid cousin get to him like this.

"I was really hoping I wasn't wrong."

"About?"

She shrugged again, taking a long and indulgent drag before answering. "I just thought maybe I sensed something between you and Louis, but oh well. Suppose I shouldn't be too disappointed. The last thing that man needs is to get wrapped up in another white boy."

Daniel polished off his cigarette and stubbed it out. "Well, I really don't think you have much to worry about there. I already struck out on that front."

"Still would've been better than him…"

Daniel followed the point of her cigarette across the street to a man sitting on the bus-stop bench with a paper unfolded in front of his face, one cream-slack covered knee crossed over the other, a black ball-cap on his head and a pair of dark sunglasses over his eyes. Daniel felt no immediate sense of recognition.

"Am I supposed to know who-"

"Shit! He spotted us," Claudia groaned. "He knows we see him. Act aloof."

Instead, Daniel waved and Lestat drew the newspaper up to cover his face entirely.

Daniel laughed. "Why does he… do that?"

"Stalk us, you mean?"

"I mean, is it stalking if you all live in the same building?"

"Fuck. He's getting up. We gotta shake dust."

Shake dust…?

She didn't talk like any college co-ed Daniel had ever met.

"I'll field him for you," he said. "You go ahead."

"Are you sure? He'll talk your head right off."

"I'm a big boy. I can take it."

Claudia gave him a parting look like he'd just enlisted during wartime. "Thank you," she said. "I owe you three times over, now."

And then she was gone, cigarette butt abandoned and still burning on the concrete.

"CLAUDIAAAAA-!"

Daniel ground it out with his heel and shoved his hands in his pocket before putting himself between Lestat and the door.

"Good morning, Lestat," he said, cheerful and bright. "Have you had breakfast, yet?"

 

---

 

"And so, you see, by extension I have wronged Claudia as well, and I know I must atone, but I do not ever know where I stand with Louis, so how can I-" He stopped himself, raising two fingers in the air as Darlene, their waitress, strode by. "Check, please, ma cherie…" He turned his attention back to Daniel. "How can I quantify my reparations…"

Well, Daniel's first thought was that perhaps Lestat think a little harder about his choice of words, but he lit his after-meal cigarette and nodded along.

"What am I to think, when Louis beckons me to his bed at strange hours only to cast me out in the morning sun? Does Lestat not feel, too? Can he not sustain a wound?"

Oh, brother…

"Have you considered giving him some room?"

"I give him plenty of room. I've ceded the entire floor to him."

"I mean -thanks, doll…" Daniel moved to get the check, but Lestat slid it out of his grasp and he shrugged, sitting back against the booth. "Maybe next time he beckons you to his bed, you turn down the offer…"

Lestat laid down his credit card, thick and heavy over the ticket. "I'm afraid I am much too weak of will."

"I'm not saying you forego it altogether. If he's desperate enough, he'll push and you'll have the optics of having turned him down the first time on your side. It makes you look like a nice guy."

Lestat narrowed his eyes. "A page out of your own playbook, perhaps?"

Daniel gave a guilty shrug.

Lestat shone another smile at Darlene as she took up the tray, popping her gum, and then his eyes were fierce on Daniel once more.

"What is this sudden friendship you've struck up with Claudia, by the way? If I may ask?"

Ah. Shit…

"I don't know, she just… she bummed a smoke off me the other day when she arrived and then she knocked on my door this morning for another. I'm not-"

"Ah! I'm being much too aggressive. Apologies. Louis seems to trust you, and if Louis trusts you with her then-"

"I'm really not interested in dating college-aged girls, you know? Hell, I'm not sure I'm being all that smart dating anyone. I don't know if Louis told you-"

"Oh, believe me, he kept his lips very tight about his attractive new neighbor. Merci," Lestat took his card back from Darlene and signed the receipt before reaching into his pocket and producing a $20 bill to lay out as a tip.

Daniel's eyes shot to it and he nearly choked.

"I'll admit, I was worried at first, but having spoken to you at length, now, I am not quite sure what I make of you, Daniel."

Daniel blinked, affronted. "Well, I'm… trying to be a friend, I guess. To him. To Louis. A friend and a good neighbor."

Lestat was quiet, assessing him up and down before he plucked his sunglasses up from the table and fitted them back onto his face with a smile. "And aren't we neighbors, as well? Perhaps you could use another friend."

Daniel laughed. "If you're hoping I'll give you intel on Louis, you're mistaken. I'm not looking to get in the middle of anything."

Lestat slid out of the booth and Daniel followed his lead. Followed his smirking, backwards stroll to the diner's door.

"You see, I don't like that look," Daniel said. "There's a lot you don't know about me, I can't imagine you could make your mind up to be friends with the guy living next door to your ex without some ulterior motives."

Lestat held the door open for him and spun around on his heels before catching up. Daniel had to admit, the charm was laid on heavy and it was working.

"You're too quick to take my word," he added. "Did you know I'm in recovery from heroin addiction? And you think Louis' judgment alone makes me fit to hang out with your da-" He stopped himself. "With your…"

"Daughter," Lestat reinforced, wistfully. "Yes, I've always thought of her in that way. I suppose niece is appropriate. I was always her Uncle Les."

Daniel clocked the authenticity in Lestat's tone and felt a pang of sympathy for him. "I'm a bad influence."

"And so am I." Lestat linked his arm in Daniel's and kept his pace while maintaining his own jaunty bounce with each step. "Tell me, Daniel. Is it only Claudia that you are a bad influence for, or should I be doubly worried that Louis has taken a shine to you? Since he won't speak on it and since we are becoming fast friends…"

The implicit threat made itself known in the tightening of Lestat's arm around Daniel's. It wasn't as if Daniel had forgotten that he'd spent the last few days in fear of the man discovering his fumblings with Louis, he'd just been so disarmed by his clownish allure.

"I don't think you need to be worried," Daniel said, hoping his anxiety couldn't be heard in his voice. "I've actually… I've got a date tonight with Armand."

He was yanked back from his next step when Lestat stopped them dead in their tracks.

"Armand?" Lestat said, the hard back-end of the name rubbed off by a sudden swelling of his French accent.

Perhaps Daniel shouldn't have said…

"Yeah, I know it's probably not wise to- I mean, really, I shouldn't be dating at all until I've kept a houseplant alive for a year or some bullshit like that but I just-"

"Armand… vraiment…"

"We were stuck together in the elevator yesterday for hours and-"

"No, I understand the appeal, I just did not realize the man was… so inclined…"

Daniel wasn't sure what to say to that. His instinct was to counter that he wasn’t so inclined, but he was finding those instincts to be pretty meaningless among his new neighbors. In the span of less than a week Daniel had gone from sitting in the same corner cafe telling the other half of the building’s telenovela power couple with his whole chest that he Didn’t Date Men to being offended that his very real and very gay date was being questioned.

Lestat struck their pace back up, though the bounce had gone out of his step and they were walking much slower now.

"I mean, he didn't seem straight," Daniel muttered finally.

"Inclined towards romance, I meant. Tonight?"

"Yeah. We're gonna go to the cinema, I think."

"Quelle révélation…"

"I know he's a bit strange, but he's been a real sweetheart to me since moving in and-"

"Oui. He can be a bit cloying, but he has the face of an angel. A body to match."

Daniel tended to agree, but he felt a little protective. Like he should be defending the man's honor while he wasn't around.

"Yeah. I guess…"

"I can't imagine what he would think appropriate to wear on a date," Lestat mused.

"It's just the movies. I'm sure whatever he-"

"And what will you wear? So far, all I've seen you in is your grubby denim and leather."

Grubby?

Daniel looked down at his torn-out knee and reconciled that Lestat had a point, actually.

"I hadn't really considered."

"Well, you will be changing of course."

"Of course."

"But you haven't considered…"

"Well you've known the guy longer than I have, do you think he'll be in one of his-"

"Ill-fitting suits? Yes, I suspect he hasn't really got anything else."

They crossed the street and then, Daniel realized, that Lestat had turned them in the opposite direction of The Palazzo and they were now headed back in the same direction they'd just come from only on the other side of the street.

"Where are we going?"

"Shopping, mon ami."

 

---

 

“Now you’re sure you don’t wanna come along?” Lou asked yet again when they reached the garage entrance. “It’s not all highbrow stuff, there are some newer artists I think you’d like.”

“I’m not saying I don’t wanna see the gallery,” Claudia told him. “I’d just rather do it on a day when you aren’t taking catalogue photos.”

“I guess it probably sounds a little like asking you to come watch paint dry.”

“Taking pictures of other people’s pictures? Yeah.”

“It’s not always so boring,” Lou insisted. “There’s the open house.”

“Oh, dressing up to stand around art, much more exciting.”

“You do realize you’re setting yourself up for a career where mingling is going to be a necessary evil.”

“Not if I’m a public defender,” Claudia reminded him. “Then I’ll be too busy to sleep or eat, much less mingle.”

“I still don’t get this,” Lou said, shaking his head. “You don’t even like the public.”

“Maybe so,” Claudia shrugged. “But I like the system even less.”

Lou wrinkled his nose and glanced away. She braced herself for the “real estate law is where the money’s at” speech but damn if he didn’t manage to keep his comments to himself, for once. Growth.

“Alright, well. Have a good walk. If they give you trouble about the library card just let me know.”

They said goodbye, finally. Not without dropping each other a fond “later, sis” and “later, brother,” which did put a little warmth in Claudia’s heart. She had been afraid of what state she’d find Lou in when she arrived in New Graven but honestly, mild auditory hallucinations aside, he was his same old self. Just. Sad.

Setting the thought aside to chew on later, she pulled her folded city map out of her pocket and checked the route she had marked to the library. About a thirty minute walk, Lou’d told her, and an unlikely place to cross paths with Lestat.

The neighborhood was cute in Spring. It had been around Christmas when Claudia visited years ago, and she’d seen most of the storefronts from the windows of Louis’ car. Now she could take in the conspicuously colorful pennant garland over the bookshop here, the boutique where the feminine mannequins all had pencil-thin moustaches painted on their blank faces there. Winks and nods everywhere, and more than a few pairs of men on morning walks together. Funny to think how it all went over her head as a school kid.

And nice for Lou to find a place like this, after what had happened with Aunt Florence.

As she reached the corner on 12th and Cedar however she stopped in her tracks. Approaching the other side of the street was Madeleine Éparvier, dragging a rolling bag with one hand while trying to hold a stack of garment bags under her opposite arm. Claudia couldn’t quite hear her, but it sure looked like she was cursing to herself.

"Look like you could use an extra pair of arms," Claudia hollered once the woman was midway through the pedestrian crosswalk.

"Ah! Oui!" She hurried herself across the last stretch, little blue leather kitten heels clapping the pavement. When she arrived onto the sidewalk, she slumped over the handle of the rolling bag in a cartoonishly dramatic way that Claudia suspected was for her amusement. A token of thanks, perhaps, without having to say it out loud. "I've been stomping my poor feet to a pulp in these pumps, I'm so angry."

"Well, I can't carry you back to The Palazzo, but I can take some of the garment bags."

"I would not be imposing?"

Claudia beamed. "Well, only a little, but you can make it up to me. Who pissed in your cereal?"

"Pardon?"

"It's an expression," Claudia laughed. "I got loads of rude American expressions if you're interested in learning. I can teach you about sittin' and spinnin' and maybe you can tell me about why you're so angry you're stomping your feet to nubs." She reached out and took the stack of bags from Madeleine and watched her lean against the crosswalk light to slip one of her shoes off, checking the inside for blood maybe. Perhaps another dramatic turn to entertain Claudia.

And entertain, it did. The sheer powder-blue stockings she wore had an iridescence to them, shimmering in the sunlight, and Claudia could see that her toes were painted red beneath them, pointed delicately as she mock-examined each shoe, never touching the dirty cement below for the heels slipped right back into place and she maintained her balance against the pole like a graceful dancer.

Once she was standing on both feet again, she sighed. "I was fired."

 

---

 

Daniel was shocked to discover that it wasn't some high-end menswear store Lestat was dragging him to, but rather to the Pick 'n Save.

"You shop here?" Daniel asked.

"Dear god, no." Lestat had stopped to tuck his hair completely up under the baseball cap and check that he was well and truly incognito in the shop's window before they stepped in. "But Armand does."

They parted ways under Lestat's orders. Daniel was commanded to pick out three pairs of pants in his size, any material would do, and Lestat would meet him at the changing room in fifteen with some options for shirts.

"Can I trust you to have the good sense to steer clear of acid wash?"

Daniel wasn't sure he could be trusted to have any sense at all when it came to fashion. His denim and t-shirts had served him well up to this point. Even when he had the occasion to dress it up a little, he'd usually gone for a more punk-rock sort of look. An 'oh, if I must wear a jacket and something pressed' sort of flavor.

"How'd I do?"

He'd actually done a little extra credit, snapping up two pairs of un-ripped dark washed denim jeans, one black pair of denim, a pair of khaki slacks, and some dark brown corduroy that looked to have a little bit of a higher rise in the waist than he was used to.

"Abominable, atrocious… this will do… Eugh…"

"Eugh?"

"Daniel, these are from 1973…"

He shrugged. "I thought they might make me look trim, I don't know."

"That is obvious." Lestat pointed to the black denim jeans. "Those."

"Yeah? I mean, sure, black goes with everything."

"Another horrid misconception." Lestat turned to sift through the pile of tops he'd picked out, heaped on the tufted sitting stool outside the curtain-enclosed dressing room.

Daniel could feel sweat breaking around his hairline, his back hot from the stares of the curious shopkeeper. She'd been pleasant enough when they came in, but it was clear that she hadn't believed his answer when she asked Lestat if he was the man from the Nutcracker billboard last Christmas.

"Here. I'd like to see you in this one first." Lestat shoved one of the hangers his way and then crowded him into the changing room before yanking the curtain closed between them.

"I'm sorry, it's just you look so-"

"Apologies, madame, I do believe I may actually be needed."

Daniel had scarcely the time to inhale before the curtain was unceremoniously pulled back again and Lestat was shuttering them in together. He gave Daniel a severe look and twirled before plopping down onto the chair in the tiny little fitting room, his knees a mere foot from Daniel's.

Daniel was speechless. He conveyed his bewilderment with a widening of his eyes and the turning out of his palms.

"I mustn't be hassled with it," Lestat explained with a shrug as he crossed one leg over the other and removed his sunglasses.

"That's your excuse?" Daniel asked dubiously. "And I'm supposed to comp you front-row tickets to the meat show?"

Lestat made a not-so-subtle show of his disgust with a snarling of his upper lip. He took the hat off his head and began to finger through his curls as they fell about his shoulders. "You do realize I spend a very large portion of my time getting hurriedly changed in dressing rooms that have myself and about 30 other men of my physique packed in like tin fish as we affix our codpieces to our amply endowed nethers and I have never, not once, been tempted to be anything other than the gentleman I am."

Daniel pulled his jacket off and tossed it over Lestat's head. "Yeah, Exactly. It's not about propriety, it's about one more fashion-model-hot resident of the building I live in getting an eyeful of me without my shirt on."

He pulled the aforementioned shirt overhead next and as Lestat tugged the jacket off his face, Daniel caught his appraising eye.

"Uh-huh," he turned away from him to face the mirror. "Like I said. Judging."

"M'well, I think you are the one sitting in judgment, mon ami."

"Who's sitting?" Daniel yanked his zipper down, thanking heaven he'd had the good fortune of grabbing a pair of boxers without an embarrassingly placed hole in them.

"You misunderstand everything. I am not casting judgment or comparing. It's admiration you detect. I envy you."

Daniel laughed, stepping out of his jeans and kicking them to the corner of the room before grabbing the black ones from the hook. "What's to envy?"

"A life enjoyed. The, no doubt, more than occasional indulgence in a carbohydrate."

"Yeah?" snorted Daniel. "You should've seen me two years ago. A hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet."

"And how astonishing the progress you've made. You are renewed. You're teeming with good health."

Daniel caught his eye through the mirror and saw that he was being sincere. Devastatingly so. It knocked Daniel right off balance as he pulled the slightly-too-tight jeans up his legs and he had to scramble for a moment to steady himself.

"Careful, Daniel. You'll have us paying for damages if you shatter that mirror." Lestat pointed to Daniel's bandaged leg. "What happened there?"

"Cut myself in the elevator yesterday. Sat on broken glass like an idiot and bled all over the guy."

"Not even your first date and already you've exchanged some fluids. This bodes well."

"God, these things are snug for a 34."

"Well, either they are last year's 34 or you aren't."

Daniel glared his way through the glass as he buttoned and zipped. "I've been indulging."

"Everything alright in there?" the shopkeeper's voice shouted through the curtain.

"Fine, Madame! My friend is just struggling his way into these very flattering jeans."

"I've got the next size up in a similar cut and color if-"

"That won't be necessary!" Lestat winked at Daniel. "I think these are a winner."

Daniel abandoned Lestat's eyes for the jeans, turned three quarters this way, then the other and checked the fit. They made his thighs look good. His ass looked great. The waist was a little snug, but he wasn't in danger of popping the button.

"Shit. These aren't bad…"

"The tight fit shows off your assets," Lestat said, leaning forward and poking Daniel in the swell of his hip. Then he reached for the first shirt Daniel'd hung on the hook by his head and handed it to him. "This one first."

 

---

 

Having dipped into the medicine cabinet for some sleeping tablets, Armand had assured himself a full night's rest. He'd had his dinner in front of his monitors and instead of staying up late and sacrificing sleep, he'd conked out at a reasonable hour. His day started as hectic as any, Santiago assessing that there was 'something up with him' almost immediately, forcing him to confess that he had a date.

Santiago perked in his seat, rolling the chair back from the desk and turning it his way as he leaned forward.

"Do tell…"

"Yesterday, when I was trapped in the elevator with Daniel, he asked if I'd like to see a movie with him. Tonight."

Santiago grinned. "A date with a tenant…"

"The circumstances are-"

"And it was merely a day or two ago, wasn't it, that I was being reminded not to flirt with our residents?"

"Your position is quite different to mine-"

"Well you could do worse, I suppose. He's attractive. I thought he was closeted, though."

Armand cocked his head in question, but before he could ask, the exterior door swung open and the Phams came storming in, arguing with one another already.

So much for an easy start to my day, Armand thought to himself.

"Gentleman," he greeted them, swinging around the reception desk. "Again, I apologize for the inconvenience, I do have a check at the ready, it was simply a matter of contacting the bank."

He lead them to his office, settled the affair as diplomatically as he could manage while the elder of the father and son pair berated him behind his frosted glass door. He placated them the best he could, got them out of the building, at least, if not with smiles on their faces, and retrieved his toolkit to tighten a couple of faucets upstairs, checking off boxes on his maintenance fulfillment checklist. By noon, he'd worked up a sweat.

He asked Santiago to field calls for him and brushed off the intel that he'd seen Daniel and Lestat come in together with shopping bags.

"Perhaps our young writer is playing the field…"

Armand didn't believe that could be the case. Daniel wouldn't be stupid enough to strike up with Lestat. Not after what had already happened between him and Louis. He wouldn't let it shake him.

His hair would take ages to set after his shower. He applied the setting lotion while it was still wet, pushed the alligator clips into place, and laid out his options for date attire on the mattress.

There was a clear winner. He took up the suit Madeleine's pins were still stuck in and bit his lip in contemplation. Would it be too big an imposition to see if he could rush her to hem it for him? Perhaps she'd be sympathetic when he explained the situation he was in. How all of this had just come up, last minute.

He knocked on her door, the suit wrapped up in a garment bag and draped over his arm.

He heard Madeleine's voice. "Now who could that be? Excuse me a moment."

It sounded as though she were with someone. That did not bode well for him.

"Can I help y- Oh. C'est toi…"

Armand peered over her shoulder and saw that behind her, in the center of her living room and standing on a step stool while holding a pin cushion in the palm of her hand, was Claudia.

"Ah. You are occupied," he said, feigning absolute destitution.

"Oui, I am. If you'd like to drop that off with me-"

"It's only that…" Armand craned his neck once more to see that Claudia was watching them, a curious look in her eye. He turned back to Madeleine. "Je suis un peu pressé."

"Tu es pressé?" Madeleine asked, chewing her cheek and looking torn.

"J'ai un rendez-vous ce soir."

"Pourquoi parlons-nous en français…?"

Armand panned his eyes back over to Claudia meaningfully and Claudia put a hand on her hip.

"Y'all know I can understand you, right?"

Armand sighed. "I wouldn't have come on such short notice if it weren't an emergency."

"I see," Madeleine said, assessing him, then turning and looking over her work with Claudia. "Well, seeing as how my services are a favor to the both of you, I suppose no one has the grounds to complain about my divided attention."

Armand realized in that moment what Madeleine was proposing. He wasn't sure having the suit hemmed and ready for his date with Daniel was worth spending however long it took to have it finished in the company of Claudia. He had no excuse at the ready to offer, however, and before he'd have been able to conjure one, he was being shuffled into the apartment.

"You may get changed in the boudoir," Madeleine directed him. "I'll see what I can do about that hair while you're here, as well."

Affronted, Armand stopped before the curtained entryway to Madeleine's bedroom. "It's still setting, this isn't the finished product."

"Oui. I know. I've seen the finished product and believe me, I have in my possession some products you could use to add the luster back in which your Extrabody setting lotion tends to dull."

Claudia hid a smirk behind her fist.

"And perhaps a serum," Madeleine tacked on, tilting her head and squinting her eyes his way. "Some cold cucumber slices for your eyes. A touch of cosmetics."

"My name's Claudia, by the way," Claudia piped in, making a point of introducing herself since neither Madeleine nor Armand were making the effort.

Madeleine laughed. "Claudia, this is Armand, the building manager."

"We've met," Armand said, plastering on a polite smile. "Some years ago when you were not yet out of high school."

Claudia wrinkled her nose as though that had been a strange thing to say and Armand second-guessed himself.

Madeleine pointed to the curtain in the doorway. "Change," she commanded.

Once Armand was on the other side of it, he could hear Madeleine apologizing for the interruption.

"If it were not a matter of emergency-"

"Your building manager's love life is a matter of emergency to you?"

"If you only knew how much it might improve the lives of everyone in this building were he to have anything else to occupy his interest…"

Armand frowned at that as he stepped out of his pants. He had interests. Plenty of them.

"Well, how can I-"

"Here." Armand heard Madeleine move close to the doorway, heard a drawer open and then close. "My card. My telephone number is on it. You can call me at your convenience to-"

"Think you'll be free tonight? It's just… I've got a thing at my cousin's gallery he wants to drag me to this week and I'd like not to look like his kid sister, you know? They have an open bar at those things."

The soft tinkling of Madeleine's amused laugh followed and Armand felt the frown melt off his face. There was a chemistry here he was sensing. On the topic of his interests…

Another clinking glass laugh from Madeleine. "I like my wine in the evenings, so as long as you are willing to risk being stuck by a few pins."

Armand paused his rustling to listen in more closely.

"I'll risk it," Claudia said.

He was struck by how much more grown up she seemed since the last time he saw her. Of course, she'd been at that tipping-point age, just on the cusp of young adulthood. A most turbulent chemistry. One he'd tried to scrub from his own memory. He waited for Caudia to leave the apartment before he emerged again.

Madeleine tsked once she saw him. "You are no doubt over-dressed already…"

"You always say that I am."

"Because you are. Come here. Let me see."

Armand stepped up onto the stool that Claudia had been occupying and Madeleine took up her pin cushion, crouching to the floor to inspect his cuffs.

"Will it take long?"

"Not very," She said. "Just need to replace the pins you've knocked loose in your bumbling."

Again, Armand frowned, but he did not want to bite the hand that was feeding him. "Merci."

"Think nothing of it. Who is the lucky guy?"

"You assume it's a man?"

Madeleine stopped her work to level her gaze at him from below. Armand straightened his shoulders and looked straight ahead.

"It's Daniel Molloy."

Scoffing, Madeleine resumed her work. "The boy with the ugly sofa? You certainly made quick work of him…"

"He asked me."

"Alright, you're pinned. Step down." She rose to meet him and he held out his arm for her to pin up his cuff there.

"I do like him."

"He's handsome. Sure. I doubt he will be going to so much effort…"

"I wouldn't require him to."

"So why hold yourself to such a standard, hm?"

For a moment, the eye contact was severe. Armand felt moved to honesty.

"I just want to be taken seriously," he said, eyes once again on the wall ahead of him.

"Well playing dress-up in dead men's suits is no way to get people to take you seriously."

"I really don't have the time to come up with a backup plan."

Madeleine placed the final pin and then stood back, tilting her head from side to side. "Good. Now take it off so I can sew."

Armand began undressing again as she went to her machine, switching out the thread for a dark brown. "If I had the time," he ventured, "what would you suggest I do differently…"

"Depends on where you are going."

"The cinema."

Madeleine nearly snorted. "A three piece suit to the cinema. Well, first, I'd have you lose the jacket. You might be able to get away with the vest alone, but you'd still be a good fifty years out of fashion."

"So I am hopeless."

"Non, I didn't say that." She finished threading the machine and turned to him with her hands on her hips as he stepped carefully out of the pants once more. "He must've asked you out because he likes you how you are. Accounting for that…" She held her arms out to receive the garments. "I'd say there's plenty of hope for you."

 

---

 

"Very smart, very smart. I love this piece."

Janet, it turned out, had the Nutcracker playbill on hand to prove that Lestat was the Lestat and Daniel, mouth agape, stood by throughout her gushing and fawning to discover that Lestat was perhaps the bigger celebrity of the two of them in the building. Lestat had graciously signed it for her and now she was sifting through their purchases at the counter while he took every opportunity to pull a face when she was distracted. It was all very amusing for Daniel. He didn't buy for one second that Lestat wasn't eating the adoration up. At the very least for the simple fact that he had Daniel to impress as a witness.

"I must ask, what is the occasion?"

"My friend here has a date tonight," Lestat answered with a syrupy-sweet smile.

"Well isn't that nice. I'm just… you know, I'm surprised someone of your… notoriety would be shopping secondhand."

"I like to support independently owned businesses," Lestat said, casual as though it were the truth. Which, of course, Daniel knew it wasn't. "Do you take Uncover?"

Janet wasn't able to conceal how the heavy credit card impressed her as Lestat drew it from his wallet between two fingers.

"Well, let me just grab my carbon paper…" She disappeared below the counter for several seconds before popping up again with a pad of the stuff, a feathery pen with a pink flamingo bauble attached by a spring, and one of those little tubs of finger-tip moistening salve. "How did you find me?"

"On recommendation," Lestat bluffed.

"Oh, really?!?"

Janet was so animatedly excited by the notion that someone might've suggested her shop that Daniel felt a pit of guilt beginning to open up in his gut. He shot Lestat a look and received a shrug in return.

"You see, the manager of the building I live in comes here often and he always gives you very high marks."

She looked up from the pad of carbon paper with an expression of surprise. "You live in The Palazzo up the street?"

"That's right," Lestat confirmed with a smile that dazzled.

"Well, your building's manager happens to be my very best customer. In fact, you should tell him when you next see him that Janet's got a whole box full of VCR parts saved up for him to pick up next time he's in." She turned and pointed her gaudy pen in the direction of a big cardboard box against the wall with ARMAND written on it in black marker.

Lestat and Daniel exchanged a covert look before Lestat shrugged and returned his card back to his wallet.

"Well, we don't mind delivering it to him if you'd trust us with the task."

"Not at all," Janet laughed. "Hell, it'd save me from bumping my shin into the thing every hour-"

"Um…" Daniel found himself interrupting before he quite knew what it was he was going to say. "Maybe… we shouldn't."

"Well it's no bother," Lestat said, squinting at him.

"I'm sure two strong young men like yourselves would have no trouble. Suppose the cops might hassle ya. Armand's had a run in or two, but I always vouch for him."

Of course, Daniel thought. Fucking pigs.

"I just figure… you know, he loves the place so much, maybe we shouldn't eliminate the excuse for him to pop in for a visit."

Or the excuse for him to get out of the building, stretch his legs…

"Well that's awful sweet of you, Daniel," Janet said, tearing off the yellow copy of the receipt and stuffing it in the bag along with the old new clothes. "He's always the highlight of my week. I was looking forward to telling him about meeting the great Lestat de Lioncourt, in fact, but I guess that's not going to impress him, now, is it?"

Lestat straightened up and broadened his chest. "Oh, I don't know. It still might." He lowered his sunglasses back onto his face. "It was lovely to meet you. You curate a charming… consignment shop…"

"You boys take care, now. Come back soon!"

"We surely will," Lestat lied, arm around Daniel's shoulder as he shuffled him towards the door, gritting his teeth when the overhead bell rang loud in their ears as they exited.

 

Notes:

BTW, we came to the decision to only change proper nouns that came into the zeitgeist past a certain point in the 20th century. Up to the reader what point in history this AU spun off, basically. Just know it's taking place nebulously in the nineteen shmeighties/nineteen shmeinties :)

Chapter 9: What eccentricities?

Summary:

DATE NIGHT

Daniel was beyond grateful that Lestat had better sense than to insist on inviting himself up to his apartment after their shopping trip. The risk of running into Louis or Claudia while palling around together was far too great, and though it went unspoken, Daniel had a feeling why that was. And all the better for Daniel whose relationships with the duo would likewise suffer for it.

I will not fuck Lestat, Daniel found himself saying in his head once he was alone in his apartment. Not that I don't think I could… I don't want to.

It was more that he feared he might be at risk of being placed into a position of having to turn the offer down. He didn't have a great track record with that sort of thing.

But he had plenty to take his mind off it. He hoped the faint smell of mothballs wouldn't be a turn-off for Armand as he dressed himself ahead of their date. While Lestat had threatened to edge into the periphery of Daniel's mind, Armand inevitably took him over completely as the hour drew near.

It was 6:20 and he stood in front of his bathroom mirror scrutinizing his shave. He'd dabbed on a little cologne to mask the smell of the consignment store the best he could without going overboard and he'd run a little mousse through his curls.

"Not too shabby," he said aloud to his reflection. "For your first date with a guy."

Not wanting to linger too long on what that might mean for the potential press ahead of his yet written- Hell, who am I kidding? -his yet conceived of homoerotic vampire sequel, he left the bathroom to finally get dressed.

The outfit they'd selected for the date consisted of the black jeans and a "seasonable" short sleeved button down shirt in the color "camel" which Lestat insisted Daniel wear with the top button open.

"Just the top button. Armand is known to sport a low neckline and you'll want to compliment, not compete…"

It was just the movies. Daniel wasn't even all that nervous, he'd thought, until Lestat started hammering in the Do's and Dont's.

"And if it goes well and you think you might get lucky, just keep in mind that it's terribly gauche to fuck on the first date, but if you want prescriptive advice-" Daniel had insisted that he did not, "I say go for it. Do us all a favor and see if you can't loosen whatever it is he's got lodged up that tight ass of his."

Daniel tried his best to shake all of Lestat's unsolicited advice out of his head as he made the trip down to the lobby to meet Armand. If the date went well, if they progressed after the credits to a late dinner like Daniel hoped, then maybe the subject of what was on the table beyond that would come up and they'd talk. As it stood now, Daniel was content to assume Armand might not be that kind of girl.

But if he was…

Well, if he was, Daniel had done them both the courtesy of making his bed and experiencing the ego death that went along with accepting the rubber Lestat offered him before they'd parted ways.

But he wasn't counting on it, wasn’t planning to be that kind of guy tonight.

"He's in his office," Eglee said without even lifting her head from the magazine she was reading. "I hope you're ready to see him."

Daniel could see the smirk on her red-painted lips and knew somehow that she was waiting for his back to turn to her before she took him in. His confirmation came when her delighted hum reached his ears just before he rapped on Armand's door.

A shadow moved in front of the frosted glass and then the door opened to him.

"Daniel," Armand greeted him with a smile.

He should've heeded Eglee's warning, he realized. Armand was, for once, wearing a suit that fit him.

Well… Almost.

A chocolatey dark brown with thin tan pinstripes, still outdated, but chic. He had on vest and a cream shirt under that, which of course was unbuttoned well past his collarbone. Daniel could tell he'd paid a little more attention to his hair. It was waved in the usual way he wore it, over his temples, behind his ears, but it was slicker, glossier. His eyes were lined in kohl.

Daniel suddenly felt a little underdressed. He reminded himself it was just a movie and he cleared his nerves from his throat.

"Armand, hey. Um, I-"

"I was only finishing up a few things before-"

"I was going to ask-"

They both stopped, left room for the other, but when neither ventured to fill it, Daniel struck up again.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to walk or take my car. The theater's nearby, but it's a little chillier now that the sun's going down."

Armand smiled. "I might enjoy a brisk walk at dusk. Your leather and my layers will keep us warm enough, I think."

Daniel smiled back. "Good point. A walk it is." He glanced down at Armand's shoes, patent brown leather, shined to high heaven. "And those?"

"Quite comfortable."

Daniel was in his own heavy-tread shit-kickers. Despite Lestat's efforts, they were going to make a bit of an odd couple. Armand was as handsome as any leading man (or woman) you might see on the silver screen and Daniel looked ready to brawl in the street if the night called for it.

"You look like a young Harlan Ranbo," Armand remarked as he went back to his desk to tuck some loose papers into a manila folder before meeting him once more in the doorway and flicking off the light. "Quite dashing."

"Thanks. You look…" For a man who'd written a best-seller, you'd think Daniel would be able to find the words, but the best he could come up with was an approximation of what it might sound like if you heard the Earth explode from Saturn. "I mean…"

It made Armand chuckle behind his hand. He locked the office door from the outside, spun the keys around his finger, and tucked them into his pocket before leading the way, tap-tap-tapping with the heels of his dress shoes, to stop by Eglee's desk.

"If there is any kind of emergency, Eglee, you are to contact Santiago. He'll be on standby tonight with his ear out for the phone."

"Oui, he told me." Her smirk was too sly, too knowing. She turned it Daniel's way. "I'm pleased you're taking him out. He could use the excitement. And who knows, maybe he'll loosen up a little."

"Alright…" Armand's gentle hand came to cup Daniel's shoulder, steering him away from the desk. "We'll be back-"

"Don't worry about it!" Eglee cut him off. "Go have fun. I promise we will not be needing you. Nous le faisons si rarement…"

"See ya, Eglee!" Daniel called, waving over his shoulder.

She went back to her magazine, waving them off with a flick of her wrist.

"A little embarrassing," Armand said once they were on the sidewalk outside. "I imagine there aren't many professions where there is no circumventing one's staff knowing the intimate details of one's private life. I do my best, however, to keep everything separate. I'm sure it's no less humiliating for you."

Daniel shrugged. "Don't mind a little humiliation now and then. Spice of life, I guess. Being an addict will have you chasing all sorts of sensations."

"Santiago said you had an outing with Lestat de Lioncourt today. I'm happy to see you making easy friends."

Daniel would've welcomed the subject change from his own addiction which he'd felt inexplicably compelled to bring up first thing, but the subject of Lestat made him a little wary.

"Oh, it wasn't… I mean, we weren't…"

"He said you had shopping bags."

"Yeah. He offered to help me shop for new clothes. I didn't really have anything appropriate for tonight by his standards. I guess, I still managed to turn up a little underdressed."

Armand feigned a small laugh and Daniel gave him a glance, saw him shrinking inward a little in the golden sunlight that was fast disappearing behind the buildings in the horizon. He was watching his feet as they walked, his hands plunged into his pockets.

Dammit, Daniel…

"I only mean to point out how phenomenal you look," he rectified. "I never manage to look anything but shlubby no matter how I try. You put me in a suit, you'd better hope whatever event I'm being dragged to isn't serving dip."

Another laugh from Armand, but this time it struck Daniel as genuine. A relief.

"Well, I think you look nice. I think you have a unique charm that would shine no matter what you wore."

Daniel could almost chew the earnestness. It made him uncomfortable in the moment, but he knew the compliment was going to stick in the back of his head to be pulled out like an old letter any time he needed a little boost.

"Thanks," he said, hoping he sounded just as sincere. "You uh… ever gonna tell me what we're seeing?"

"Oh!" Armand brightened. "Yes. We're going to see an ensemble comedy called A Fish Called Brenda. It's opened to glowing reviews."

Daniel had actually seen that one advertised. "Amy Leigh Morton in lingerie, huh?"

"Yes," Armand agreed. "And Kelvin Clune, as well. A most striking man, in my opinion. I so loved him in Cutthroats of Cornwall."

Daniel playfully elbowed him. "Oh, yeah, I bet. Shirt cut down to his pelvis, thigh-high boots…"

"You tease me, but it sounds like the costuming made much the same impression on you, Daniel."

He had him there. "Yeah, he's a handsome fella. I'll give you that. So, why don't you tell me a bit about the area? What's changed, what's stayed the same? These are basically your old stomping grounds, right?"

"Oh. Well, I don't know that I've taken much notice of what's changed over the years. I suppose there was a pharmacy there that's since become a pet shop. I never went inside. My-" Armand shrugged. "I grew up being fairly well catered to. I didn't have to run many errands."

That was a bit of an improvement over what Daniel was able to get out of the man the previous day. Yesterday, he hadn't wanted to talk about it. Maybe the context of a date was what had changed his mind. So, Daniel pressed.

"I know you were in foster care at least until 15. Was that when you were adopted?"

There was a sharp intake of breath and Armand's pace faltered a little and he fell out of step, causing Daniel to mindfully slow his.

"Yes," he answered finally. "I was adopted at 15. I'd been with my foster parent for about a year by then."

"A single parent, huh? Sounds like maybe it was a bit of a Little Orphan Ellie situation. So you stumbled your way into the doting arms of a Daddy-"

"Hah! I suppose you could say that."

It was jarring, the way he'd cut Daniel off, and Daniel knew not what to do with it but roll.

"Alright. Look, I get it,” Daniel said, turning more deliberately towards Armand as they walked until he was nearly doing a grapevine to keep up. “Not everyone can be as open a book. You know, my ex fiancee used to bust my balls about not being capable of smalltalk. I made an effort to talk about the weather more and suddenly I was boring."

"Your pursuit of depth is admirable but you must forgive me for shrinking away from it. I'm not used to the interest. I'm not used to… any of this."

"What, like dating?"

Silence.

"Ah, sorry. I'm doing it again. You know what? Why don't you take the helm. Go ahead, ask me anything. I'm a habitual over-sharer, there's no frontier too far for-"

"Have you been on a date with a man before, Daniel?"

The thing about inviting interrogation from the tight-lipped was that, in Daniel's experience, they'd usually take it as an opportunity to steer the conversation back to shallower depths. He supposed Armand was an exception to that rule.

"Uh… well…"

"You've been written up in reviews as a heterosexual man. Of course, that could be a presumption on the part of the interviewers and critics. You're not on the record stating yourself to be straight and there have been no direct quotes that I could find on the subject."

Instead of asking how and where Armand had managed to read multiple reviews of his book in the time since they’d met, Daniel found himself stammering.

"I mean, we've spoken before about… Louis and-"

"What do you, Daniel Molloy, consider yourself to be? What is your sexual orientation?"

It was like the signals in his brain were all getting scrambled. He'd spent so long slapping a hand over his own subconscious every time it dared to ask that he'd effectively shut off the valve. What was Daniel Molloy's sexuality?

Here for a good time, not a long time.

Depends. Do I have to buy it dinner first?

A hole's a hole…

None of these kneejerk responses he'd filed away for such instances of existential crisis were appropriate here. He was coming up empty-handed.

"I guess I'm still working that out," he said at last, finding a sort of enlightenment on the other side of it. Yeah… He was still working it out. And at 35, maybe that made him a late bloomer, but then again, maybe that was okay. Working it out meant he didn't presently have to commit to an answer he didn't have. "I've messed around with men. I've never, you know…" Looking over at Armand he saw his owlish eyes peering, waiting. "You're the first guy I've ever officially gone out with. The first guy I've ever asked to."

It was clear that that counted for something. Armand had to tear his gaze away, his lower lip bit between his teeth to school his spreading smile.

"Well, I'm honored. And yes. When I said I am not used to this, I do mean… this. As you know, I am preoccupied most of the time with work and I don't really get the opportunity to meet people who aren't in the process of becoming tenants of mine. And here we are, and look who I'm out with."

"Am I really the first tenant to get up the nerve to ask you out?"

"You're likely the first tenant to have a desire to. I don't think I put off many signals."

The image of Armand sunbathing in the pool on the roof came to mind and Daniel reminded himself that it was a private thing he'd just so happened to stumble upon. Even if it had looked like a scene out of first-rate porno. Armand hadn't been knowingly playing the siren.

"Maybe you intimidate people."

Armand scoffed. "Intimidate people? Me?"

They were coming up on the theater and Daniel reached out for the crosswalk, "Did you happen to look in the mirror before leaving your apartment?"

Armand smiled at the comment, but quickly shook his head.

"Looks aside, I think most people find my eccentricities a little off-putting."

Well not me, babe…

"Oh, come on. What eccentricities?"

They shared a comically dubious look before the crosswalk changed and Daniel took his arm to jog him across the street.

"I hope we don't miss the previews," Armand said as they approached the box office and he asserted himself, taking the lead. He went to rest his arms on the counter. "Bethany, hello. Two for A Fish Called Brenda, please."

The teenage girl, Bethany, stared blankly at him from behind the glass, her mouth hanging open and showing the neon-colored rubber bands connecting her top and bottom braces. "Two?" she repeated.

"You heard that right," Armand said proudly.

Daniel watched the girl slide their tickets under the window and took his from Armand before they went into the lobby together. It was an old theater, a little dusty, everything draped in red velvet. The space was sparsely inhabited and though they might've bypassed the velvet rope that zigged and zagged a path to the concessions, Armand lead them through the maze of it.

"Your usual?" the perplexed kid behind the counter asked, eyes bouncing between the two of them.

Armand turned to Daniel. "Do you want to share?"

"Sure. I never can finish a bucket on my own."

Not to mention how sharing one might create the opportunity to brush fingers.

"Alrighty."

The kid began filling up a large bucket and when he was finished, he handed it to Armand and Daniel opened his wallet, figuring that since Armand had gotten their tickets, he could spring for the concessions.

"How much?"

"Oh, for Mr. Armand it's on the house."

"Oh…"

"They're very kind to me here," Armand explained.

"He's like… gold tier," the kid said. "I mean, if we had something like that. He sees all the movies we show."

"I see," Daniel said, nodding and holding back a smirk.

"Thank you, Harrison."

Another young man with a broom and dustpan in hand approached a moment later. "Oh, hey Mr. Mondo…"

"Hello, Bradley."

"Who's… your… friend?"

It was hard not to feel scrutinized the way the two teen boys were staring Daniel up and down. It was plain to see that while the employees here were accustomed to seeing Armand, they were surprised to see anyone with him.

"This is Daniel."

Bradley took Daniel in, cocked his head, and had the audacity to say "huh."

"Oh! I almost forgot," Harrison cut in. "Here's your second bucket." He held an empty one out for Armand to take, but Armand only stared at it. "Don't you want it?"

Armand slowly, almost begrudgingly, lowered the full bucket into the empty one before taking them back up together. "Thank you, Harrison," he said with a tight-lipped smile.

Daniel had no idea what that was about and he followed behind to the girl taking tickets. Emily. Another first-name basis. And come to think of it…

He brushed his shoulder against Armand's as they walked the dark aisle, whispering, "Hey… what is your last name? The lease is with the LLC, so I never really caught it."

Armand turned the corner to take in the layout of the theater and for a moment Daniel thought he might be ignored, but then Armand nodded in the direction of a pair of empty seats before turning back his way and smiling.

"DiAngelo," he said before leaving Daniel standing in bewilderment.

Daniel had to excuse himself past the pairs of legs of an older couple, a group of women, and a couple of singular movie goers before settling down in the seat beside Armand, already set up and comfortable. The previews were rolling and he seemed to already be transfixed.

Daniel leaned into his ear to whisper again. "Your last name is DiAngelo…?"

"Daniel," Armand scolded, "we're going to miss the-"

"Your first name's French."

"Yes."

"And your last name's Italian…"

"Yes. I was adopted, Daniel, we-"

"So why the fuck are you British?"

It earned Daniel a scornful look and he settled back in his seat. "Alright. Sorry…"

He watched Armand take a trembling handful of popcorn, hesitate in the air, come a little closer to his mouth, and then drop back into the bucket as if in defeat.

And Daniel couldn't help himself.

"Are you gonna tell me what's with the second bucket?"

A defeated sigh left Armand and he turned to Daniel, his pretty face lit up in blue. "One of my off-putting eccentricities which I had planned to put on a shelf this evening for your benefit."

Daniel shrugged. "I don't want you to do that. I wouldn't have asked you to do it."

"The kernels… I find them troublesome. I don't care for the texture and I don't like the way they cling to the back of the throat and… stick between the molars, it's just-"

Nodding, Daniel's mouth tugged up in a half smile. "I feel you. Kernels. Hate 'em."

"I have a somewhat unorthodox way of eating popcorn for that reason."

"Well, we're out to get to know one another better, so…"

Armand looked uncertain.

"Clarifying that I'm not here to gawk at you like an animal in the zoo, I'm just… I want you to be comfortable. You don't have a problem doing it around strangers, and I don't want to take offense here…"

Daniel could see that his point was getting across. Armand softened a little, showed him a meek smile, and then lifted the full bucket out of the empty one and handed it to Daniel.

"You can be the keeper of the corn, then," he whispered.

Keeper of the corn…

"That's cute." Daniel scooped a handful and tossed it into his mouth, smirking through his crunching and making a point of turning to the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Armand timidly dip his fingers back into the bucket. He watched him take one piece at a time, nibbling the soft parts away before dropping what was left into the empty bucket resting in his lap. It was odd, sure, but so far from ‘off-putting’ that Daniel had to actively stop himself from stealing glances of the little ritual.

The plot of the movie was actually pretty involved for a comedy. A diamond heist, interwoven plots of betrayal, and as promised by the advertisements Daniel had seen, plenty of Amy Leigh Morton in her underwear. Daniel had to split his attention between the plot of the film and his periphery, taking note when Armand laughed, when he jolted in surprise. He was a fairly animated movie-goer for someone so otherwise still. It made Daniel feel warm inside. He wondered if there was a single other person in the building who'd had the privilege to see him like this. He did his best to refrain from leaning over to make comments, though the drive in him to do it was almost impossible to check. The first time he had, Armand nearly flinched. It was clear he liked to take in a movie uninterrupted and Daniel wanted to respect that more than he wanted to make jokes about Kelvin Clune's mustache.

But it was hard. His knuckles were, at times, very much white.

And then, at the very end of the film just before the credits, as Albrecht was being steamrolled flat into the wet cement, Armand leaned in close, cupping his hand around Daniel's ear and whispering "Well, obviously Albrecht will make it out of this one. Everyone knows it takes cement 28 days to harden."

It took Daniel less than 28 seconds.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up and his knuckles were, once again, bone-white. His toes gripped inside his shoes and he had to stop himself from contorting for the quarter-full bucket of popcorn in his lap. The air left him and as he drew it back in and turned to meet Armand's gleeful eyes, they flitted back to the screen again to take in the ending title cards which revealed the fate of all the characters. The last being that of Albrecht who had, just as Armand predicted, survived. Armand shot him a triumphant smile and Daniel felt himself tumbling away into oblivion.

He was going to need to secure a second date somehow, and he didn't want this one to end.

"What do you think about dinner?" he asked as they filed out of the theater. "I mean, popcorn didn't exactly ruin my appetite…"

"You're hungry?" Armand asked in astonishment. "We nearly finished it off, but there was still-"

"Well popcorn isn't exactly dinner is it? And aren't you thirsty after all that salt?"

"Like I've told you, Daniel, I have a schedule for my water intake, you need not worry."

Daniel was amazed, but he tried his best not to show it. "Alright, well… I've gotta take a leak. Be here when I get back?"

"I'll join you. My bladder's full as well and the bathrooms here are clean."

A funny thing to consider, the proper piss-taking etiquette when out on a date with another guy, but here Daniel was considering it. Was it common practice to go together or were you supposed to take turns? It'd never occurred to him and he supposed it probably didn't occur to most men who didn't date other men. There were five urinals lining the walls with no partitions and Daniel took the one furthest to the left, the one in the center being inhabited by a man finishing up. Logically, that left the rightmost for Armand.

Or so you'd think.

Just as Daniel's stream began to splash down against the porcelain, a dark shape pulled in beside him, unzipped, and-

Daniel glanced down, recognizing the slender fingers before the signal had time to get to his brain that he was looking right at Armand's dick.

He looked away just as quickly, clearing his throat in a moment of panic. "Fuck. Sorry…"

"Hmm?"

Okay, maybe he hadn't noticed.

"Nothing, you just… You startled me." Daniel shook off and zipped up, leaving Armand's side for the sink. He watched his back through the mirror while he washed his hands. His height was more impressive than it'd been to Daniel thus far and again, he averted his gaze when Armand finished and turned.

"That's the one I always use," Armand said a little apologetically when he reached the sink.

Daniel dried his hands, pulling a couple extra paper towels out of the dispenser to hand Armand when he was ready.

"Yeah, that's… I get it. No sweat."

He didn't really get it, but he supposed having a preferred urinal at the movie theater was one of the least strange things he'd come to learn about the man.

The moon was out and the air had grown colder but not so frigid as to be unbearable. They stood under the warm yellow bulbs below the marquee and Daniel, at last, felt free to really look at him.

"I gotta be honest, Armand, I really don't want to take you home so soon."

Armand swayed a little, hands stuffed in his pocket. "Where else would you take me?"

A better question would be where wouldn't he.

If only we'd taken my car, then the backseat would be an option…

Armand seemed to hang on his answer and Daniel mentally kicked himself for the improper thought. It hadn't been that kind of date. So far.

Down, boy…

"Maybe a stroll around the park? If it's not too cold for you."

"Under the moonlight?" Armand beamed.

"If that doesn't sound too corny."

Sighing, Armand stooped his shoulders and dropped his eyes to his shoes. "That's… I'd love nothing more."

Daniel struggled to remember any instance where he'd won a look like that on a first date. It made him swell a little, imbued him with confidence, and he dared to take a step closer, tilting his head to catch Armand's eyes and draw them back up with a smile.

"We could check out the one by The Palazzo. I haven't been, yet."

"Ah, yes. I've only been in the sunlight and even then, with my schedule…"

"Let's do it, then." Daniel tugged his hand out of his pocket and pulled him along.

For a moment it seemed as though they might just continue holding hands as they walked, but all it took was one sideways look from a passerby for Daniel to drop Armand's fingers from his own. Their spirits were not entirely dampened, still. Daniel was giddy.

"I let you skirt the question before," he said as they walked. "Have you been out with men before?"

"What do you think?"

"I think… probably you have. You took this gig five years ago, you're my age, so… Yeah. I bet you got lots of attention in your 20's."

Armand laughed privately, bitterly even. "Well, attention aside, I've not been out with anyone since before my thirtieth year."

"Men? Women? Both?"

Armand shook his head, his smile seeming more put on by the second and Daniel just had to know what it was all about.

"What? Can't I be curious?"

"You can," Armand said. "Just as I can be careful. I… am not someone who easily lets people in."

"I'm sensing that."

"I've… never had the opportunity with women. That's not to say I'm not curious. I find the fairer sex to be just that, in many cases. I'm just rather inexperienced in the realm of dating."

"Have you…" He thought better of asking what he wanted to ask. "Your experiences with men, I take it, have also been limited?"

"Limited to one. As far as dating… As far as the modern practice goes… I suppose I have no experience of it. For a long stretch of time, I was singularly devoted to one."

"May I ask what happened?"

"No, Daniel, you may not."

And just like that, Armand was a pace ahead. Daniel had to skip to catch up.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'll drop it, now. Promise. Just like me to run my mouth and end up with my foot in it."

"It's not easy for me." Armand stopped dead, pivoted on his heel so Daniel had to stop short not to run into him. "You understand? It isn't easy…"

Daniel swallowed hard. He nodded, furrowing his brow to show that he was taking this seriously. "I understand."

Armand answered with a hollow laugh. His eyes darted away to the passing lights of traffic and he shook his head, the wry smile on his lips pulling in behind his teeth as his eyes pressed closed. Then he was looking at Daniel once more, backlit by the stoplight turned yellow. "It's alright. I'm having a wonderful time with you. I'd like for it to continue, if you would."

Sucking in a breath, Daniel nodded again. "I'd love that."

The light changed to allow them the right of way, and they fell in step silently. Daniel felt an instinct to take Armand’s hand again but squashed it down. Armand probably preferred space after Daniel’s prying.

And Daniel wouldn’t pry again, not tonight, but that didn’t stop his mind from reeling. Devoted to one, but never really dated — high school sweethearts? Did someone leave him behind? Or maybe an illness…an accident…

A neon outline of a boombox saved Daniel from his thoughts. A music shop he had mentally noted in passing on their way to the theater was lit up for the evening crowd, practically begging to serve as a timely distraction.

“Hey, would you mind if we stopped in here?” Daniel asked as they approached.

“Not at all,” Armand replied, flashing him what seemed like a relieved smile.

Armand looked around the music store as though he'd never stepped foot inside of one before. His hands were once again shoved stiffly into his pockets. It was clear to Daniel that he felt slightly out of step and out of place.

“I’ve been wanting to pick up the new Vapid Thoughts album,” Daniel told him, which was true after all.

“I can’t say I’ve heard any of their music,” Armand admitted.

“Really? Not even Won't You Forget About Me? That one's getting played to death on every station.”

“How does it go?”

“It’s like, won't you come see about me, I'll be-” Daniel stopped short as he recognized the small grin growing on Armand’s lips. “I’m not gonna sing it, okay?”

“I guess it will have to remain a mystery for now, then. Ah!” Armand stopped at the first endcap display they came across. “I just made a copy of this from Santiago’s collection.” His hand came out of his pocket and he plucked a cassette up, turning and inspecting it.

“Pamela Abed,” Daniel read aloud. “Always Your Woman.”

“Have you heard Straight Down?”

“Against my will a few times, yeah,” Daniel laughed, then sucked in his breath. “I mean it’s, uh.”

“Terribly catchy.”

“That,” Daniel replied diplomatically. “Didn’t she do a song with a cartoon cat?”

“DJ Scritch Scratch,” Armand nodded solemnly. “We can move on. I’m just surprised to be so with it, for once. Let’s find your album.”

Daniel searched his brain for something else to say about Pamela Abed that wasn’t 'well I’ve seen the music video and I can’t say I wasn’t jealous of where DJ Scritch Scratch got to put his paws' and came up with nothing. So, he took the cue to lead them to the artsier section, where Armand spotted the Vapid Thoughts album first.

“Oh, this one says sample and the seal is broken. Does this mean it's available to listen to?” Armand pointed out a record player equipped with headphones nearby and a record already spinning, abandoned carelessly by whoever had come before them.

Daniel found himself charmed by Armand's exuberance. He took the album from him and coolly approached the table, lifted the needle and replaced the abandoned record in its sleeve. He lifted the Vapid Thoughts record out of it's album art and placed it, returning the needle and picking up the headphones. He beckoned Armand over with a smile and a crook of his finger. Armand stepped forward with some caution, his own smile demure, his eyes falling away from Daniel in a manner that clued him in to how well his own charms might be working. When Armand was near enough that Daniel could feel the warmth of his body, he brazenly gathered him in closer with a hook of his arm around his waist before lifting the headphones between them and bending his ear against the right can.

They listened for a while, riding out the upbeat instrumental intro to the title track, Happily Ever After. It was good! Sounded better than the bit Daniel'd caught on the radio playing in someone's cab while smoking outside The Palazzo one morning. He felt a little nervous, though. He'd never cared much before what Alice thought of his music. They shared plenty and then there was plenty they hadn't when it came to their tastes. For some reason, it really mattered to Daniel that Armand liked it. At the minute mark, when the vocals came in, Daniel felt as though he could feel the electric tingle shared between them. Like the hairs on the backs of their hands rose up with it, reaching to touch each other.

"His voice," Armand whispered.

Daniel let his pointer finger bump against Armand's. "Yeah. I know."

They stayed like that for the duration of the song, knuckles playing coyly, breaths deep and slow and conscious, and then Daniel pulled the cans away.

"I enjoyed that very much," Armand said, eyes glittery under the shop lights.

There wasn't anything like hearing a new sound for the first time. One that really grabbed you, and Daniel could see Armand had been grabbed.

"You should get the cassette," he said casually as he stopped the record and replaced it before picking up a sealed copy for himself.

"Ah. I… I don't know, I'll probably just make a copy if Santiago's got one. I don't make a habit of buying new things for myself."

Huh. Daniel would have to dig more into why that was. For now, he plucked up a sealed cassette as well, gave him a smirk and whirled around to lead the way to the register.

"C'mon. Let's get out of here before it gets too chilly for the park."

He didn't have to look back over his shoulder because he could hear the dry rustling of Armand's clothes as he ambled after him. He made his purchase and then, once they were outside the shop, he retrieved the cassette from the bag and placed it into Armand's hand.

"Here. Now it's secondhand."

Armand stared back at him, dazed. "Thank you."

It was so earnest it made Daniel's face grow hot and he covered with a laugh and a pat on Armand's shoulder. "It's nothing. Let's shake dust."

 

---

 

Coming home to a made bed was nice. It took a bit of the sting out of the fact that Daniel had come upstairs alone.

The park, it turned out, possessed a bit of a reputation which had somehow eluded both Daniel and Armand. By the time night fell, it became a hunting grounds. A little hard to have a romantic stroll under the moonlight when every other bush you passed moaned, sighed, and shook. They'd done their best not to meet the eyes of any strangers who might've gotten the wrong idea and cut through the center of the park, the quickest path home. But still, it had done nothing to dim the shine of their shared moment in the record store. Daniel hadn't felt sparks like that since middle school. No offense to Alice. He'd just struck out enough times with her that by the time he'd worn her down, his guard was up. He didn't feel like he had to wear any armor with Armand. How could you when the man was so seemingly comfortable being his own odd self?

When Daniel asked if Armand would like to come up, he'd declined, but that was alright. Daniel didn't want to cheapen things.

"But I enjoyed the night. I'd like to do it again sometime."

Daniel, emboldened, asked 'how soon' while his cheeks burned at the stifled giggles of Eglee behind him.

"If Eglee would be so accommodating-" Armand said, peering around Daniel's shoulder to Eglee at her desk, "then perhaps a week from now?"

"If it'll get him out from under my heels," Eglee replied from her post.

Daniel was beginning to wonder how long their courtship would feel this… supervised. There was something so old fashioned about meeting in the lobby, about being observed. But Armand had turned down his offer to go upstairs and, in turn, hadn't extended one to Daniel to go down to his.

And then there they were. Like two teenagers parting ways after the sock-hop. Only mom was in black velvet and stilettos.

Daniel replayed it in his head as he brushed his teeth in the mirror. Had it been awkward to start? Yes. Would it probably always be a little awkward sometimes with Armand? Yes.

But overall, he counted it as a success. How could he not? He'd left the man with a tangible reminder of the night's highlight, one that demonstrably gave him goosebumps, even. And he'd secured the second date with almost no effort. Dinner, they'd decided -Daniel'd insisted, and then they'd see where the night took them. Daniel had his heart set on dancing. He could keep up in that arena, but of course, he wasn't sure Armand had any aptitude for it.

"Maybe ballroom or something," he said through foamy toothpaste to his reflection before spitting and rinsing.

The alternative, if they wanted to dance a little closer, maybe get a little sweaty, would be a gay bar. He wasn't sure if that'd be Armand's scene and he, himself, had only ever been when he needed to score.

But then, maybe Armand had more experience with the lifestyle than Daniel was giving him credit for. Maybe he'd been wilder in his twenties. There was still so much for Daniel to discover about the man.

He gargled a cupful of water, spat, and wiped his mouth, giving himself one last lingering look in the mirror. He laughed at the silliness of his own vanity, and cut the lights.

Leaving Armand on the other side, in darkness.

 

---

 

Not complete darkness, though. The soft white Christmas lights lining the bottom of the corridor still gave off a little glow. Not so much that they could be perceived through the slit cut into the wall that allowed Armand just a peek through the bathroom’s two-way mirror. He stood in that faint glow, transfixed by the sensation of Daniel so close to him seconds before. And they had been even closer before returning to the building, before their awkward goodnight and before Armand quietly slipped into the hidden door to the old servant stairwell and up into the corridors that wrapped around 5B and A.

It wasn’t enough.

Carefully, he stepped out of his shoes and made his way to the apartment corner on socked feet. Daniel was talking to himself, it seemed, though Armand could not hear it as clearly as he had Daniel’s non sequitur about “ballrooms.” The light from the pinhole where the wide-angle of the room was filmed went out. Armand ducked under the crawlspace beneath the right window frame and pulled himself back up on the other side. A maneuver that was much easier in his youth, but one he could still manage if he tucked his arms in tight. He was standing at the head of the bed now, he knew. He leaned his forehead against the back of the bedroom wall, picturing the view from the overhead monitor he had been studying for nights.

Daniel indulged himself before sleeping nearly every night. Typically very quickly, with little fanfare, save for the night of his near-miss with Louis. Would he take his time tonight as well? Had Armand left him wanting, at all?

Armand wanted. He wanted so strongly that it threatened to topple him over. Where to put that feeling? In between his legs in front of his monitors, or in between them now, here, so close to Daniel he could imagine he felt the heat of him? Either way, it couldn’t continue as such. Not forever. Daniel would have expectations. Armand would have to answer to them, somehow.

A muffled moan cut off those thoughts.

He almost made a sound, himself, but it was caught behind the cup of his palm. His breath, though shaky, leveled off to something he didn't have to worry so much about Daniel picking up through the wall and he turned to bring his ear in closer.

He hadn't expected Daniel to make much noise at all. Or hadn't been imaginative enough to suppose what he might sound like while watching him on the closed circuit feed. He wasn't loud by any means. A little whimpery, a little restrained.

Perhaps conscious of his neighbor, Armand thought to himself. Now with the girl there…

He pressed his eyes closed, trying to match the memories of Daniel on his television screen to the sounds he heard on the other side of the wall. His face was hot, the stagnant air in the gap of the crawlspace making every breath feel insubstantial, making his heady arousal all the more intense.

And what if he sought his own pleasure here? Would that be a stupid move? Would he be tempting fate?

He could deprive himself for the time being, it wasn't like he was so base he couldn't resist the urge, but he couldn't recall the last time he'd been so immediately turned on, where he hadn't been in the privacy of his own apartment, and where the subject of his desire had been so near at hand.

The temptation was immense. His fingers worked open his vest, then the lowest button of his shirt at the last stretch before it was tucked into his pants. He had to be very careful not to knock the back of his hand against the wall. Trembling, his other hand fell cautiously away from his mouth, as if testing if he could trust himself to stay quiet. He worked the fly of his trousers open and pulled his shirttails loose before bracing himself against the wall as gently as he could with his left hand and reaching into his fly with his right.

A flash of Daniel's hand brushing his, then a sustained sense memory of the way he'd held Armand's hand… Perhaps the most touch Armand had received since…

Well, it'd been ages.

He took himself in hand and lowered his head to spit, squeezing his eyes more tightly closed and trying not to let the thought of Daniel's skin against his own knock his nerves askew.

It wasn't working.

The trembling in his hand and in his breath found him struggling to get a pace, to ease himself into pleasure.

Daniel's arm around his waist, the most vulnerable part of himself, the part he sought to close around, to guard with the curvature of his spine, the bringing in of his elbows and the drawing up of his knees when he shared spaces with others who, despite all logic, were always summed up as a threat. No matter how he hoped to be able to trust. Even the most precious among his collection of peers, he could not fully let his guard down around.

Louis found him off-putting. Lestat regarded him as though he were a curio behind glass. But Daniel… Daniel was proving to be different from the rest in that regard. He sought to get closer and Armand had no real contingency for that. He'd be expecting things soon. Expecting to put his hands on more than just Armand's waist, and what would happen then?

You know exactly what will happen…

Armand's sex life had been one-sided for quite a while. The closest he'd been, physically, with another person in the last five years had been in instances like this. Even then, he had always managed to stop himself before getting too carried away, to retreat to the safety of the basement.

But once more… this felt different.

He narrowed his focus to Daniel, to the sound of him, to the sloshing water in the bed and the panting breath. Every slight whimper made Armand's grip tighten, and as he listened to Daniel cresting towards his climax, he worked his own up to a head.

He held it there, he was so damned good at this part, keeping himself on the knife's edge while listening intently and blocking all nuanced thoughts that weren't 'Daniel, coming, soon, God,' and 'good.'

And then Daniel's muffled cries came and so, too, did Armand. And hard. He pelted the rough backside of Daniel's inner wall with it, hoping the noise would be dampened enough for Daniel not to hear, certain it would be through the wood and the plaster, through the thick headboard.

His knees would have liked to give out and his fingers tensed where they were pressed against the wall, gripping for purchase as he rode out the last of it, as he came back down into his body, felt his soul slip himself on like clothes again. He pulled in a deep breath and shuddered it out, a drop of his spent pleasure landing between his socked toes on the floor. He opened his eyes.

"Damn," he whispered, his hand darting up just as quick, clapping over his mouth again until the smell of his own cum hit him and stung his eyes. He took a careful step back and surveyed the damage. He could hear Daniel grunting, likely rolling himself out of the waterbed to clean himself up. He'd be in the bathroom, washing his hands. If Armand had any sense at all, he'd have thought to bring a handkerchief with him at least, but that was tucked into the pocket of the jacket he’d left on the hooks at the bottom of the stairwell.

No such luck. No such sense.

He licked the backside of his fingers clean and sighed over the mess. It'd seep into the dry, unvarnished wood. It'd live in the bones of the building, now. There wasn't much he could do about that.

He lingered a while longer, listening for the running tap.

"Oh well," he said softly. "Goodnight, Daniel."

 

 

Notes:

shout out to artist cloudabserk whose perfect fanart has permanently embedded the phrase "why the fuck are you British?" in our heads

Chapter 10: And boy was he pitiful tonight

Summary:

Daniel tries to keep cool while courting the property manager as things get steamy between a few other tenants in The Palazzo. Armand keeps a careful eye on all of it.

Facing down a full week before the planned second date with Daniel, Armand kept himself busier than ever. There were accounts to balance, a small kitchen fire to extinguish, a burst pipe in one of the units which had shorted a wire in Armand's set-up, leading to an entire night of no sleep while he repaired the circuit. Luckily, this time he knew exactly where the wire needed replacing. His jaw was sore the next day from holding the flashlight in his mouth while he fumbled with his hands, made clumsier by the grounding gloves.

He had only sustained a mild shock, but it'd blown him back hard enough that his back thudded against the interior of the unit's wall.

"What the hell was that? We got rats now?"

What followed was about an hour of Mr. Chevalier thumping against the walls of 3C. Tapping and listening, Armand presumed. He had to sit still, silent, an hour gone by of his already too-long and too-sleepless night.

The next day, Armand ran into Daniel in the lobby. Of course he did.

"Good morning," Daniel greeted him cheerfully.

"Oh, he can't talk," Santiago said for him before cupping his hand around his mouth and loudly stage-whispering, "Lockjaw…"

To Armand's horror, Daniel looked surprised to hear that. An explanation would be in order. He sighed, folding his hands in front of himself.

"I can talk," he said, grimacing. "It simply hurts to."

Santiago's amusement was barely concealed and he raised his eyebrows at Daniel before leaning back in his seat and folding his own hands in his lap.

"You, uh… "

"I was working on a repair overnight that required me to use both my hands as well as a flashlight…"

Daniel nodded, his eyes narrowed suspiciously and Armand could feel himself shrinking down to the size of a marble under his scrutiny. And then, a split second later, the scrutiny was gone. Replaced by the cheerful smile again.

"Well, we should get you one of those little miner hats or something. Surprised you don't have one already…"

The following day, there was a clumsily newsprint-wrapped box for him in his office. He carefully detached and folded the paper, revealing a brand new elastic headband lamp.

That evening, Armand was restless with desire. Understandably. It was not often that he received gifts anymore. Here and there a tenant had kindly offered him baked goods or a card at Christmas time, but unwrapping a present was an experience he hadn’t had in years. And this was something practical, something useful, something that would adorn him still, but that would protect him and help him. This wasn't jewelry or fine clothing. This wasn't a useless ornament. He cleared off a rudimentary plywood shelf, the one he'd intended to varnish ages ago to spruce up the place a bit, but had never gotten around to it, and placed the headlamp nestled in its box there. Maybe he'd varnish the shelf tomorrow.

For now, he was in bad need of a fix.

He set himself up, popcorn popped, juice cup filled, and parked himself in front of his monitors. At 7pm on a weeknight, there was a good chance Madeleine might be having a bath with that slender buzzing friend of hers. He tuned into her bathroom first. Nothing. He switched to her living room and was surprised to find she wasn’t alone there. A woman in a silk hair wrap lounged on the sofa, lovely dark-skinned legs peeking indecently far out of what Armand knew to be Madeleine’s favorite robe. Madeleine sat fully-dressed at her sewing machine, chatting with her guest.

Alterations, then? Armand had never had to strip down to that level when Madeleine demanded to fix his consignment shop finds. He supposed it might be unavoidable for women’s clothing.

Something was familiar about her guest. Something Armand couldn’t place until she threw her head back in laughter, exposing all of her face to the camera and sending a chill through Armand’s veins.

Claudia.

It was her, somehow, but not as Armand had ever seen her. She had been the perfect image of a schoolgirl on her first visit to The Palazzo nearly five years ago. Her constant reminders to anyone who would listen that she had just turned eighteen completely eclipsed by an oversized peacoat and a large green bow tied in her hair. Armand was not intolerant of children outside of the building, but he had carefully avoided having any amongst his tenants. Claudia had not even been a minor by law, however, and Armand had known from Louis and Lestat’s conversations that her visit was intended to be short. He hadn't thought it to be too much trouble to handle at the time.

They had gone out to eat the first night of her visit, but the second saw the three of them sit down at the dining table with boxes of takeout Chinese food. Armand, sitting frozen in place as he listened to Louis and Lestat ask Claudia about school, about her friends, about a boyfriend she felt she’d grown too mature to maintain. They teased her gently, and she snapped back freely. She cursed openly in front of them and it seemed to charm them endlessly.

Later, in the night, Lestat rose from bed and unfolded another blanket to lay over her as she slept on the sofa.

Armand had turned off the monitor and sound for 5A for the rest of the visit. For each of her scattered visits since then he had done the same.

And so he had deliberately avoided taking notice of Claudia for some time. Even in Madeleine’s room the other day he had barely spared a glance, preferring to maintain that separation. Yet here she was, the same diminutive stature she appeared to have been saddled with years ago, but without a trace of the childish mannerisms. The change was maybe in part due to the more mature style of Madeleine’s clothing, but it seemed largely in the way she held herself, the way she held her glass of wine… He felt some relief, on her behalf, that she had been able to cultivate the kind of aura she had so obviously been longing for.

Armand watched with renewed curiosity as she disappeared into Madeleine’s bedroom to change into the altered dress. Watched as the two of them stood before the full-length mirror in Madeleine’s workspace, seeming to chat less and less as Madeleine checked over her work and gave it her approval.

It was not surprising that Madeleine’s skills were able to further the impression of Claudia as a young woman, one who would not look out of place at any cocktail hour.

He watched as the body language between the two of them shifted. Claudia went tense, fingers flexing and clenching, and Madeleine stepped back a full foot from her. Claudia turned to face her and they became animated, seeming to cycle between arguing and laughter, each fueling the other, Then, suddenly, Claudia crossed the distance between them and craned her neck up for a kiss — and Madeleine accepted it.

"Oh…"

His popcorn remained neglected for his thumbnail pressed against his bottom lip. He set the Halloween bucket aside and pulled himself closer to the edge of the mattress, peeling his eyelids wide to take in the scene as it played out. He watched Madeleine swagger back to her sewing table to finish off her glass of wine before stepping back towards Claudia and plucking open the buttons of her collar.

He watched Claudia's dress fall, he watched her step out of it, and then she was tugging Madeleine down to the sofa, laying her back against it and pushing up her skirt.

Armand's dinner of popcorn and juice would simply have to wait.

 

---

 

Daniel was finally, finally writing, and he needed to keep his momentum going. He saved his work and slipped on his shoes to go out for his morning coffee. He'd been putting off buying a pot all this time because he liked having the excuse to pop down to the cafe (because he liked the excuse) but now that he was actually writing again, he supposed he'd need to find the time to pick one up. But he wasn't going to find the time today. Not when he was finding himself actually moved to write. He could be back in twenty if he kept it jaunty, which he would've if it weren't for the sight he came upon in the hall.

He stopped, his keys spinning to a halt around his finger, the whistle dying on his lips.

"Ho-oly shit. Louis know you were out all night partying?"

"Shut up," Claudia said, stopping in front of him, heels dangling from the tips of her fingers. Her hair was haphazardly poking out of the silk scarf she'd wrapped it in like she'd gone to bed somewhere, slept rough, and hadn't bothered to fix it. Only she looked like she hadn't slept much at all. A stark juxtaposition with the smug smile she wore.

"You got laid," Daniel said. It came out both like an accusation and congratulation at once. And when had he pointed his finger?

She grabbed it tight with her free hand, threatening to snap it with a look (and a painful wrench).

"Hey, I won't say a word, don't worry about that." Daniel pulled his finger back, clenched it into a protective fist and shoved it behind his back. "I think I heard Louis leave for the gallery already, so the coast is clear."

"Was he pissed off?"

Daniel shrugged. "I didn't talk to him. I've been caught up writing."

Claudia crossed her arms, heels dangling in a way that read to Daniel as somehow antagonistic. She pivoted her weight to one foot and cocked her head.

"What?" Daniel asked, growing a little nervous.

"Writing."

"Yeah. I'm a writer."

"Louis said you've been doing anything but writing. Said you go out for breakfast at the cafe every morning, get your lunch there too, you're always out in the halls and in the lobby, looking for distractions…"

"Oh, is that so?" Daniel cocked his own head, crossed his own arms. "He talk about me a lot since you got here?"

"Thought you weren't interested…"

"I'm not- This isn't-"

Claudia cackled.

"I didn't say I wasn't interested, just that I didn't think there was any hope."

"Well that's probably true. You do strike me as a bit hopeless."

"You know, most people are nicer after a tumble in the sack. I hope he at least paid for your cab. Those things look painful to walk in."

"She," Claudia corrected. "And there was no need to take a cab. No need to wear the damned things, either. The super keeps these floors spotless, in case you haven't noticed."

Daniel eyed her with some suspicion. He stuffed down the little thrill at hearing it'd been a woman Claudia spent the night with. The shock that it was apparently a woman in the building came secondary.

He was a little slow on the uptake, as it were.

"Nice," Daniel heard himself saying before he could think better of it. "I just mean… I love lesbians…"

Claudia scoffed. "I'm sure you do."

"Hey, listen, I'm the one you're counting on not to tell Louis. You could scale back the venom a little. I'm just trying to be a good neighbor."

"Well, a good neighbor would mind his business."

It was Daniel's turn to scoff. "Oh, yeah? Well perhaps a little recipro-"

But she was gone, the door closing behind her, and Daniel was left to guffaw in the empty hallway, officially knocked off course.

What was it he'd come out for?

Coffee… Right…

His head was clouded now, unfortunately, by thoughts of his neighbor (whom he'd nearly hooked up with)'s cousin-sister getting down with another woman. Someone in the building, no less. That narrowed it down some, not that Daniel needed to be plugging faces into this unbidden fantasy. He shook his head as he jogged down the stairwell, attempting to throw the thoughts from his skull. He didn't need this. Not now. Not when his mind had been so blessedly clear when he woke this morning. Not when he had clean air filtering in through his open windows and an entire page typed up on his baffling little box of circuits. He felt a pang of sympathy for Louis. He was beginning to see how one might come to the paranoid conclusion that others could hear one's thoughts. He prayed that it wasn't a two-way street with Louis.

Maybe Louis will never find out. Or maybe he'll find out and be so incensed at the seductress who lured his cousin into their apartment that he won't even think to read my thoughts…

None of that was logical. Daniel needed a cigarette and a coffee bad.

His sneaker hit the lobby floor and he popped his collar up over his burning-hot ears, shoved his hands in his pockets, and trudged towards the door, giving Santiago little more than an acknowledging nod as he passed. But he was stopped short.

"Ah, Daniel, give me a moment and I'll be out of your way. Apologies."

"I told him he'd need to take the door off to do that, but he wouldn't listen. Noooo."

Daniel stood, blinking down at the sight of Armand seated on his bottom, a pair of too-big brown slacks, belted by braided leather, black leather dress shoes, and nothing but a white form-fitting tank on top. He was smeared with black grease and dirt, presumably from the entryway rug.

"It will work," Armand insisted. "I just have to get a little messier than I'd anticipated."

His arms were astonishingly toned. Of course, Daniel knew that already. He'd seen him with less clothes than this, but still. It knocked him back.

"Maybe I can help?"

"Oh, don't bother." Santiago had left his post and his shoes were tapping behind Daniel as he approached, coming to stand beside him and watch with disdain. "He nearly hissed at me when I offered."

Armand ignored him, laying himself down on his side, cheek to the rug. It made Daniel wince to think of all the foot traffic, the dirty soles of shoes which had picked up god only knew what from the city only to stamp it off here before stepping out onto Armand's pristine lobby floor.

"I'm not taking the door off its hinges. These are industrial, the hydraulic door-closer is more of a pain than hunkering here on the floor will be."

He sat up a moment later and looked directly at Daniel, making his cheeks hot for being caught with his eyes roaming.

"Actually… Daniel, do you mind fetching that tube of adhesive by my feet?"

"Yeah. Sure." Daniel crouched to retrieve it, settled on his knees and handed to Armand.

"Thank you," Armand smiled warmly at him.

Santiago tsked, turning on his heel and returning to his desk. "I see, I see. A ploy, indeed."

"What're we fixing?" Daniel asked, suddenly curious. Curious and grateful for the distraction from his guilty thoughts about Claudia and the mystery woman.

"The weather stripping has peeled away at the corner of the door here." Armand pulled it out for him to see before laying back down on his side. "I'm gluing it back in place now, while most of the tenants are gone to work and there is less in-and-out bustle."

"I see," Daniel said, watching him administer the glue with the tipped nozzle of the tube before pressing the rubbery side of the stripping back in place. "How long do you have to-"

"Well, if I want it to hold for more than a month, then I'll be down here for twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes," Daniel repeated in disbelief. So much for his jaunty walk down for a smoke and a coffee.

"Oh, do not worry. I've positioned myself in such a way that you can step over me to use the other door. I do not mind and it is not like you are a lady in a skirt…"

No, Daniel supposed it wasn't like that.

"And what will you do if a 'lady in a skirt' happens to need out the door?"

"I would beg her pardon, of course," Armand answered, "and politely avert my gaze."

Daniel could hear Santiago laughing behind him and he did his best to hold his own in. He supposed, if he was a 'lady in a skirt' needing to get by, he'd trust Armand not to peep more than he'd trust a guy like himself.

 

---

 

The apartment was empty when Claudia entered. Lou's keys were missing from the $800 ceramic bowl some skinny-wristed woman named Paisley had given him in lieu of commission a year or so back. Claudia would never forget that visit.

"You ought to stop letting these trust-funded white desert ladies with chakras and turquoise and shit run you around, brother Lou…"

And look at her now. Madeleine wasn't exactly decking her apartment out in little wood-carved Ganeshes, but she was…well, ‘French White.’ And that, too, had its glaring hypocrisies she'd need to work on overlooking.

She came upon a note on the kitchen counter, held down by an empty coffee mug.

Instructions on the espresso machine, don't blow it up. CALL ME.

The phone picked up halfway through the first ring. Ugh.

“Azalea Street Gallery, this is Louis speaking.”

“Hey.”

“Heyyy, sis,” Lou sing-songed.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t have to be. I knew you were right downstairs. Figured you might have crashed there after a few too many. You already sounded a little far gone when you called.”

“Well. Yeah. I had a couple glasses of wine.”

“Wine, girl talk, I get it.”

Oh, brother, you certainly do not.

“Still. I must have worried you a little for you to leave me this note.”

“Wasn’t that. Got a call from the woman with the corner studio that she can show it today if we come by before noon, so I just wanted to make sure you were up for apartment-hunting pretty early. ”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

Lou laughed. “Take your time sobering up. I have plenty I need to do here before we go.”

"Yeah, I can hear all the clamoring prospective art buyers in there, you better see to them before there's a riot."

"Funny."

They said their goodbyes and Claudia had a private little chuckle to herself, the knuckle of her finger pressed to her lips.

Girl talk. She’d have to tell Madeleine that one.

Then again, maybe not. The idea of those two worlds intersecting was as unsavory as it was inevitable.

Oh, she really needed to get her mind off it. It was time for a real shower anyway. The one she’d taken with Madeleine had turned into round two, after all.

Lou's bathroom wasn't quite as decadent as Madeleine's had been. No luxurious robe waiting for her, no tray of artfully spilled wax with great columns of jewel-toned candles rising out of it. No oils, no potions. Not any longer, anyway. It turned out — and Claudia was loathe to admit it — that a significant amount of that upkeep in comforts had come from Lestat.

Maybe it was a French White thing.

Claudia rinsed herself off, fighting what she knew was a truly silly feeling of little electric aftershocks all over her skin.

She was used to taking the lead with girls, in part because the kind of girls she liked always seemed to need it. It was easy to let that get to her head at times, make her question if any of them were even half as interested in her. Madeleine had been different.

She was a woman after all, not a college girl pretending to be unexplored territory. Claudia had made the first move, yes, but Madeleine had made the second, the fourth, the sixth… Like a dance, if Claudia was sappy enough to think that way. And maybe waking up with her head tucked under Madeleine’s chin had gotten her feeling a little on the sugary side, but what she knew was really going to have her counting down the minutes until it might be acceptable to call again was the brand new experience of getting off with a partner not just one time as a courtesy but twice with the offer of a third she’d had to turn down out of exhaustion. Even after a brief but impactful introduction to Madeleine's chic little vibrator. Claudia had never owned one, herself. In fact, she'd even made a little fun at the expense of a friend or two who had.

"Who needs that when you got magic in your own fingers," she'd said.

To which Lisa had replied "well we're not all a bunch of practiced finger-bangers, Claudia."

She hadn't exactly been sorry to leave some of her friends behind in the move to New Graven.

Things were looking up.

 

---

 

Daniel glared at the monitor.

The monitor sneered back.

"This is garbage," he said out loud, his finger hovering over the commands to banish it for good from the PC. "God, forgive me."

But just before he could do what he did not know could easily be undone (if he'd just have taken that course his editor offered to pay for on computer processing, he might have learned a thing or two about the recycle bin) the hunk of plastic and metal circuitry blinked off.

"What the hell…"

He was filled with a sudden panic and he tried to tell himself it didn't matter, he'd just been about to delete the godforsaken 20 pages anyway, but then it blinked back on and the words were there and he felt such a relief at seeing them. He reached for his cooling coffee, in his chipped ceramic mug, from his cabinet because he'd been a responsible adult and bought himself that 12 cup coffee pot after all.

He'd even bought it second hand. Very eco-conscious. Very cool.

"And a whole fucking lot of good it's done me," he grumbled before chugging the last of it. He was filling the mug every 20 minutes, making a new pot nearly on the hour. He was irritable and jittery and very cynical. It was like quitting smoking. It was not like kicking heroin, but y'know… it was still bad. It was making him worse than his worst critic. It was making him his father.

He rinsed the mug out in the sink, placed it in the drainer, and shut off the pot for good. When he returned to his seat, his words were waiting for him. He drew a breath, closed his eyes, felt the wind from the open window fill his nostrils, his lungs, then let it out.

"One more read…"

Christian sat at the all night diner for the fifth night that week. Of all the promises made to him, he hadn't expected Antonio to keep this one.

"Where are you, you son of a bitch?"

Nothing. No one. Just the twisting helix of cigarette smoke drifting up to the tobacco and coffee-stained drop ceiling above his head and the waitress leaning over the counter, rustling the pages of her women's magazine.

Christian felt such disdain for her. The pity in her eye when she looked his way. Of course she could tell he was waiting on someone. Of course she would assume that someone would never show. But what did she know? The ten hottest tips to make your man scream in bed? Well that wasn't much. Christian wagered she probably didn't know much more beyond that.

Still, pity could count for something. Maybe he could drown out the obsession between her thighs a while. She'd probably let him. Women loved a pitiful man. They didn't teach you these things in any men's magazines, but Christian would give you that hot tip for free.

And boy was he pitiful tonight.

And all the goddamn piss breaks.

"Beats pissing yourself while skagged out," he grumbled, zipping his fly and flushing. He splashed some cold water on his face in the sink, tried not to think about the only way he knew how to come down from too much of a stimulant and turned his mind elsewhere. Scrambled for something to occupy him.

Maybe Louis would be home soon. Maybe Louis had started The Devil's Minion, finally. Maybe it'd be a real bozo move to ask again if he had.

But Daniel wanted an opinion on his writing that wasn't his own and he didn't think inviting the likes of Santiago up to his apartment was such a wise idea. He'd run the risk of giving him the wrong idea. Worse, knowing himself and how he welcomed most distractions with open arms -even when those distractions threatened to rot them off at the injection site, he might succumb to that wrong idea.

And Armand's opinion had grown to be much too important to Daniel, for that matter. Allowing his current romantic interest to read this rough first 20 pages was a bit too intimate. For now.

Sex first. At least.

And that, surely, was on the horizon. If not on their date on their upcoming date then soon. The date after that, perhaps. Daniel was feeling optimistic on that front. He couldn't be entirely sure that the display at the entryway to the building was all for him, but the way Santiago had been snickering…

And even if it hadn't been, the coy way Armand thanked him for the gift of the miner's helmet. That was surely the ticket. Daniel had learned early on in his relationship with Alice that sometimes the quickest path to the bedroom was a simple trip to the hardware store.

"Fixed that leaky faucet finally, babe…"

One lightly flooded basement traded for another. Contact paper in the kitchen drawers. There was a time when Daniel thought he could write a field guide to keeping women happy.

He was a fucking idiot.

But he was an idiot with a date on the books. A date which he still needed to plan for. He needed an outfit, he needed a restaurant, he needed-

Rubbers…

Unless he wanted to count on the one Lestat had given him, which didn't seem like the safest bet. And there was only one of them. And again, Daniel was feeling optimistic.

Probably need lube, too…

It was funny. When you were dating women, all you were really on the hook for was condoms and, if your luck ran out, about $200 for the trip to the clinic. Cab fare on top of that, too. If you'd fucked up that bad, you could rest assured the girl wasn't gonna want much else to do with you moving forward and she likely wouldn't want to share the backseat of a cab or any other vehicle with you, either. It'd be an icy 'thanks for the cash' and a 'see ya never'.

Daniel had only fucked up that bad once. And he still wasn't entirely sure the fuck-up had been his. But that was his teens. Now he was a 35 year old guy dating another 35 year old guy and he was both excited and petrified at the thought that he might need to learn a whole new set of guidelines. He was in foreign territory. What was the oopsy daisy equivalent to knocking up your highschool sweetheart? Was there anything that compared? Just how bad could Danny Boy Molloy screw this pooch?

 

---

 

Lestat stepped out of the studio and onto the street in the warm glow of the golden hour, as usual. He had developed a well-timed post-rehearsal routine including a long stretch under the hot spray of the shower stall that ensured he never had company when leaving the building. He would give his love to dear Rosa and Marta, already at work on the floors and mirrors, and then be free to walk alone as the sun set. And he did walk most days now that the weather was pleasant, in part to delay his return to his empty rooms and in part to experience a daily surge of hope that he might see Louis in the window of the Azalea Street Gallery as he passed.

Today he was blessed with a rare treat — Louis’ two-door D'uberville parked directly in front of the gallery, the spot he usually kept free for patrons. Lestat consciously straightened his posture, ran a hand through his still-damp hair and shook it, and centered himself with a deep breath before making his way down the block.

After all, it wasn't as though he could stop by the apartment now that Claudia was playing keeper of the keys. And it wasn't like Louis was presently upset with him… Unless he'd unwittingly given him something new to be angry over…which was, of course, quite possible. Especially with a newly-forked law student's tongue whispering in Louis’ ear.

Of course, he could only fault their Claudia to a point. Her assessment that Louis deserved better than what Lestat had given him wasn’t in error. She simply couldn’t see that Lestat agreed. That he wanted to be better.

In any case, he was prepared to take his scolding for whatever new trespass (real or forged from misunderstanding and absence) however it came from Louis, lukewarm or scalding.

He didn't mind so much when it scalded. His fiery Louis…

A rapping of knuckles on the glass made Lestat jump back. The setting sun behind him had cast a glare on the gallery’s window; orange and pink and opaque enough that he missed Louis glaring from the other side.

He slid over to the entryway just as the bell chimed and ducked into the gallery through the door Louis resignedly held open for him.

"Merci."

"Window shopping?" Louis asked, letting the door close after them and locking it. He turned the sign around to display that the gallery was closed and pivoted, awaiting Lestat's explanation.

"Ah… It's just the two of us."

"I'm closing up. We shut it down at seven if we're empty. You know that."

"Has the day grown so old already?" Lestat paced over to a sparsely decorated wall, stark gallery white paint with two photographs on display. He reached out as if to touch.

"Don't go putting your prints all over the frames. Come on, now. Tell me why you're here."

Lestat pulled his impish fingers back to his side and whirled around to face him. He turned out his palms. "Well, I've come empty-handed-"

"And I suspect you'll be leaving empty-handed? Unless you're in the market and I can help you…"

"I only brought a bit of gossip, which I know you pretend not to care for, but seeing as how it is only the two of us here…"

Sighing, Louis slumped his weight onto one hip and crossed his arms. "Gossip on an empty stomach."

Lestat swept his way, taking him by the elbow in concern. "Oh, you haven't eaten?"

Louis' reluctance was apparent, but naturally he'd been the one to invite the concern. Lestat knew him too well, knew when he needed a little fussing over. Knew when he was inviting it only to pretend in one moment to shutter it out, relenting a moment later.

Louis shook him off. "I was too nervous this morning with Claudia out and then we had an apartment showing during my lunch hour."

"Well, you mustn't neglect yourself like this, mon cher…"

Lestat had seen firsthand how dire things could become when Louis overlooked his health. When he became too stressed to eat properly. And Louis had promised him… promised him that he would never allow things to get that bad again and that if Lestat ever saw him sliding back, he should leave him.

"Never, mon cher," he'd returned the promise. "Never."

"I'm not in a… you don't have to worry like that."

But clearly he did.

Louis' eyes dropped, then, to the tops of his shoes. The surrendering softness. The relent. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"Dinner, then? The Japanese place next door does a phenomenal kamo rosu." Lestat gave him his most obsequious smile. "I can tell you all about the new romantic developments in our building and you can tell me about Claudia's potential new apartment."

Louis looked off to the side, smiling. For second Lestat balanced on the edge of the knife — was it the incensed smile before the bite back?

“Yeah, alright,” Louis answered him even while shaking his head.

The ‘I can’t believe I’m charmed’ smile, then. A triumph. Lestat kept his voice steady as his heart soared, as he lead Louis out of the store with a hand placed gingerly on his elbow.

 

---

 

He'd given in. Folded like a damn lawnchair, but it wasn't like he'd sworn off ever speaking with Lestat again, they had too much history for that. Lestat would always be family to Louis. And Claudia?

Well… She'd come around eventually. She had a lot of growing up to do and learning to forgive -or at the very least tolerate- would come with the rest. He hoped. And if there was anyone he knew he could share his anxieties about his baby cousin with, it was Lestat. He'd been in her life as long as Louis had, after all. And furthermore, Louis knew with absolute certainty that he cared.

"And a Hokkaido Silver for my love. Arigato gozaimasu…"

Louis sunk as far back into his side of the booth as he could. "You know I hate when you order for me."

"You always have the silver label and I could see that you were lost in your thoughts."

"Maybe I wasn't planning on drinking with you tonight."

Lestat's mouth twitched. He maintained his haughty smile, but Louis saw the falter in his eyes, the slight way his shoulders slumped and his jaw tensed. "It's only one beer, Louis."

They both knew it wouldn't be. Not when Lestat had ordered himself a kamikaze. Louis was going to need to sink two for his every one just to keep up. Just like old times…

It started tepid and casual. They talked art, the season, the incident with the elevator, and just as their drinks arrived from the bar and Lestat was rounding out (to Louis' humiliation) another flashy show of his passable Japanese, the topic turned naturally to Daniel and Armand.

"You're not serious…"

"Oui. Deadly. I even lent him my fashion expertise. I haven't had a chance to catch up with him since. I wonder how it went."

"They already went?"

"Honestly, I've no idea how the news hasn't made its way to you already. Santiago's practically posted a bulletin."

Louis sipped his beer, shrugging his shoulder and hoping he looked unperturbed. "Been busy, s'all."

"That you have. And onto the next topic of import… Unless you are truly as uninterested in the sex lives of your neighbors as you appear…"

Lestat saw through him. They could see through each other. Ten fucking years. That'd strip the paper off any wall.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I'm happy for the guy."

"For Daniel."

Louis couldn't help the rolling of his eyes. "I'm happy for Armand, too."

"Ha!"

"Can't I wait for the food to get on the table before I give my thoughts? I'm running on fumes, Lestat. Less than."

"Well I am happy for our antiquated Adonis. And they make an attractive pair, no? I certainly wouldn't turn down an opportunity to peer behind the green door…"

A grimace spread over Louis' face and he covered it with another sip from his glass.

Lestat's smile seemed suddenly strained. He was overthinking now that he'd spoken without thinking at all. Louis watched him recalibrate, a sympathetic nag settling in the basin of his esophagus.

"I'll catch up with Daniel once things calm down. Just been a wild few days. Life'll settle. Once Claudia does."

"The little sparrow. How is she? I've only the cumulative five minutes I've seen of her to go by. She runs in the other direction any time we chance to encounter one-"

"Chance?" Louis laughed. "Lestat, she's told me about it every time you've tried to flag her down. Said you sit out on the bench waiting to catch her smoking in the mornings."

"That was only the one time. And I don't like her smoking, Louis."

"Well neither do I, but you think w- you think I can stop her? She's grown."

"Precisely one centimeter in the last two years."

Louis rolled his eyes again, but his chest spasmed and he had to bite his lips between his teeth to keep a laugh in check. "You better not say some shit like that if she does decide to talk to you. She'll push you into traffic."

"I'd be disappointed if she didn't."

"The apartment was…"

Louis was cut off as their server laid their meals before them on the table. Again, Lestat showed off his Japanese, giving praise and thanking the man before turning back to Louis. "The apartment was…?"

"Cramped. We'll keep looking."

They tucked into their meal and by the time they were midway through, Lestat was on his second kamikaze and Louis his first.

 

---

 

"And, you know, they say they want another five seasons out of me, but I'll be 42, mon dieu… I'd like to save some of my cartilage for retirement."

Louis was quieter now as they finished their meals. Smiling at him, resting his chin in his hand, forgetting to put up the drawbridge. Of course, he had a beer and a cocktail in him now. His eyes were glittering with it, with the lantern light, the atmosphere.

"I've more than a nest egg, as you know. I don't want to give up the dance, it's only that… How many years of Swan Lake, now? The body, even mine, can only endure so much… Louis?"

Louis blinked the haze from his eyes, shook his head and sat back in his seat. "Yeah. Sorry. Yeah. Just… duck always makes me a little drowsy. I'm listening, though. I'm glad you're only signing on a season at a time. You gotta listen to your body."

Lestat smiled. "Precisely, mon cher. I suppose it is getting late. Claudia will be expecting you back. I should hail the check."

"You don't want dessert?"

Dessert?

Dessert with the love of his life?

"Well… Twist my arm…"

 

---

 

"I thought all the units had carpet…"

"Yes," Lestat said, moving to the sole lamp in the space and switching it on. His apartment was… sparse. The television and VCR were sitting on the floor, a tangled mass of wires behind them. Lestat's boombox was against the wall and his antique hand-knotted Persian rug was rolled up in front of it. The floor was otherwise bare. "There was carpet, I was told, but it had coincidentally been ripped out and the floors re-finished just before I found myself… in need of a new place."

Louis received the seemingly unintentional stab of guilt and saw that Lestat, similarly, was wounded by a splinter his expression cast off.

"It worked out splendidly for me," Lestat added on.

"You haven't bought a sofa?"

Lestat followed his gaze to the lonely recliner that sat pulled back to the very edge of the space, nearly to the kitchen island, presumably to make room for his leaping and pirouetting. "Well, until now, it's only been me and myself occupying this space. But I suppose I should." His eyes landed on Louis' and then swept away again, to the barren room. "You know me, of course. I'm very selective."

If Louis'd been in the mood to row, he'd have had just the thing to say to that, but he felt a little sorry for Lestat. He seemed to be punishing himself and passing it off as careless neglect. Louis knew him better than to believe that was all it was.

"You should let me curate some art for your walls. Something that captures motion, the dancer's form… Something that reflects you."

"Just what I need. Another reflection of myself to get caught up in. Would you like something to drink, Louis? Some water?"

Water was probably a good idea. Not that he was completely drunk, but he was at an age where three drinks could induce a holy mother of a hangover the following morning regardless of how he spread them out. "I'll have a glass, sure."

He watched Lestat move around the kitchen island, watched him open the cabinet. Inside there were only a handful of objects. A plate, a bowl, a water glass, a wine glass, and a mug. All from the uniform sets Louis had inherited from the house after his sold it. The ones they'd shared. Louis might've been angry to discover that his fine dining sets were now missing pieces, but he couldn't bring himself to be. Why should Lestat be denied their familiar comfort? And when was the last time Louis'd ever thrown a dinner party? That'd always been Lestat's thing. He accepted the room temperature glass when Lestat handed it to him. Thanked him and drank it down.

"Oh," Lestat said. "Well, I suppose I should mention that the facilities are just down that hall on the left."

Louis nodded his acknowledgment before knocking back the the very last bit. He moved around Lestat, into the kitchen, and set the glass on the edge of the sink before brazenly opening the cutlery drawer.

"Louis, please-"

"Shit…"

"Like I said, it's only myself here, and I know that you are accustomed to my excess, but-"

"You know, you could've grabbed a backup fork. I wouldn't have noticed…"

"I eat out more than I eat in these days."

Louis could imagine why. "It's been six months, Lestat…"

"I live half my life at the studio. I have the necessary creature comforts. My bed is the most important. Where I rest. That is what matters when I am here."

Louis swept his gaze around the apartment again. It was so… bleak. Utilitarian in a way that might not have put him out so much if it weren't for the fact that it was Lestat who lived here.

Who endured here, anyway.

"What if you wanted to entertain?"

Lestat laughed defensively, as though Louis had been making a cruel joke at his expense. It made Louis shrink a little.

"I mean… you have friends and the apartment is nice. You love your little parties-"

"The season's only just come to a close, Louis. Perhaps I will have more time for socializing before rehearsals begin for the next. Though -and perhaps it's been different for you- friends do seem to grow a touch distant after a major breakup. My friends had become your friends as well, after all."

The hits just kept coming. Louis swallowed, felt the urge to refill his glass from the tap, and drank a bit more. "Guess I haven't been socializing much either."

"I'm happy you've become friends with your new neighbor. Though, that is another friend shared. But I don't imagine it's so awkward for him without the history."

Louis might've even been so uncharitable as to suspect that Lestat had befriended Daniel with the sole interest of finding another point of access to him. He didn't see it that way, now.

"It's been lonely, Lestat. For me, too. I've been-"

"Ah." Lestat tossed his hair, smiling Louis' way with damp eyes. Even from where he stood in the eat-in kitchen, Louis could see them glittering with held-back tears, seeping out into the crinkles at the corners. "You know, we don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"I did have a lovely evening with you, Louis. Thank you for allowing me the-"

"Hold on, now. Do what?" He set his glass back down and began to step back around the island, into the expanse of the living area. "What are we doing, Lestat? We're just… we're catching up, right?"

Lestat took a step backwards, his fingers lacing together humbly in front of him. "This is the first time you've expressed interest in seeing my new home."

"I care about you. We're family, right? Always will be."

Lestat blinked up at the ceiling, sniffing and inhaling. "Tu ne parles jamais comme ça… unless…"

"It's normal. Ten years…" Louis continued to approach.

"You've had some to drink, Louis."

"Not that much. I paced myself."

"Still, I'm sure Claudia will be waiting up—"

"With the way she keeps insisting she's grown, I think she can handle an evening in by herself." What was he doing? He moved in, nudging Lestat's feet apart with the toe of his shoe while taking his clasped hands and separating them, putting them into the position of a dance. "Remind me how that step goes. The one that had you in a fit 'cause I kept scuffing up your shoes…"

Lestat's head dropped, a tear falling at last, landing on Louis' intruding toe and rolling down the side. "You never showed much aptitude for ballroom, let alone interest."

"Showin' interest now, ain't I?" Louis' finger hooked under Lestat's chin and lifted it so their eyes would meet. "Indulge me, mon cher…"

He found the right jokes to make while they stepped and twirled about the room to put Lestat back at ease. Soon, Lestat was scolding him for his missteps and making his own quips.

"Are you ever gonna dip me?" Louis asked, feigning exasperation.

"I thought you hated being dipped because it was emasculating."

"Well, when you do it at my sister's wedding in front of my entire extended family…"

"Hands were on hearts, breath abated…"

"They were clutching their pearls, Lest-ah!"

And down he went, sweeping just a few feet above the floor, his fingers clutching at Lestat's strong shoulder as though he weren't being held so carefully, so tenderly. It was sustained just long enough for Louis to relax into it before he was being pulled back up to stand under his own power again.

"Satisfied?" Lestat asked.

Louis grasped both Lestat's cheeks in his palms and kissed him. He felt Lestat's hands circle around his wrists, but he did not wrench away, he was bolstered. Even while Louis took charge, opening Lestat's mouth with his own, no intention of pulling away. When it became clear to Lestat that he wasn't going to, his grip on Louis fell away and he hauled him in by the waist. Louis let his own hands travel down to Lestat's shoulders before snaking around and locking behind him. It was then that Lestat lifted him under the legs, picking him up and wresting control of the kiss.

"Mmm…. to the bedroom," Louis said, breaking free only long enough to impress how serious he was, to look into Lestat's eyes and assert it, and then Lestat's mouth was on his again and he was being walked backwards, into the dark hall, kissed all the while.

He was deposited on a soft bed he could not see, but he could feel that it was made up. His hands spread out on the plush velvet duvet.

"Lestat?"

He heard a drawer open, something tucked inside before it closed, and then the bedside lamp was switched on.

"Here, my love."

The light was dim and sensual. It fit the mood. It fit the room. Below Louis, the bed was dressed in emerald green velvet. It was lush and luxurious and the windows were curtained in drapes that matched. They pooled excessively on the wooden floor, adding to the soft and voluptuary feel of the room. There was a full length mirror (of course there was) and there were, indeed, a few photographs hung on the wall. Ones Lestat had taken. Ones of himself and of Louis, a few of the two of them and Claudia. None of them as romantic as some of the other photos he'd taken over the years, which Louis knew he was in possession of. He'd gathered them all into a shoebox himself, after all, and dropped them in front of Lestat's door. Claudia'd suggested he burn them. He'd told himself it wasn't that he couldn't bring himself to, it was that dumping them on Lestat's doorstep would sting more. She played got-your-backbone with him on every phone call that followed for a couple months over that one.

Wonder where he's got them stashed…

Lestat was bending, leaning against the post of the bed to remove his shoes. "Please make yourself comfortable, I am going to pop into the bathroom to relieve myself. The vodka river has finally met the crest of the fall."

Louis felt his mouth pulling into a grin. Only Lestat would have the brass to try to make taking a piss into poetry. "You do that," he said, kicking his own shoes off at the heel and pulling up onto his elbows to watch him walk out of the room. He waited until he heard the faucet running to scramble back and reach for the bedside drawer. A guilty impulse which he'd satisfied before his rational mind could talk him out of it. He clutched at the excuse that he was simply looking for lubricant, that was a safe lie he could tell himself, but in addition to a bottle of Ocean Motion, he saw a framed 5×7 photo of himself. His 30th birthday, a candid shot taken by Lestat, himself, of course. Louis' favorite picture of himself. Perhaps Lestat's too.

He quickly shut the drawer again and got back into the position Lestat had left him in, greeting him with a grin and popping off the bed, himself. "Do you mind if I-"

Lestat stepped out of the way of the door and gestured. "Please."

"I might be a little bit. I want to-"

Lestat shook his head. "No need, Louis. Take your time." He looked at the bed and then back Louis' way. "I'll turn down the bed while I wait."

Lestat's bath was as ornate as one would expect, but still it struck Louis a little odd how the apartment just so happened to be available when Lestat was in need of it, and just so happened to be fitted out with a large, antique bathtub with gilded clawfeet.

Louis only needed a piss and a rinse. Just to hose the day off. He found the retrofitted shower a little tricky to handle, but he managed, and wiping the fog from the mirror over the sink, he gave himself one last look over. One last chance to talk himself out of doing this.

But he found he didn't want to. There wasn't a bone in his body that didn't ache for what was waiting for him in the other room. He couldn't account for how he'd feel tomorrow, but for now…

"You would've been welcome to my robe," Lestat said when he entered back into the bedroom, fresh but re-dressed in his clothes.

"Thought you might like the honor," Louis replied, performing a cock-suredness that he wasn't convinced he could keep up. He didn't want to have to verbally renew his desire over and over. He wanted Lestat to know he wanted Lestat. Again, he took the onus up and stepped towards Lestat where he was sat, waiting on the bed. He took Lestat's trembling fingers and hooked them over the top of his slacks where they fastened closed.

A candle had been lit on the dresser and the flicker of it made Lestat's pupils seem to dance when they locked to his, his fingers working open the closure of Louis' slacks before pulling the cream-colored material free from where it was tucked and then pulling Louis down against him on the bed and taking up another kiss. He rolled them so that Louis was on his back, kissing his lips, his jaw, his throat, and smoothly repositioned them into the center of the bed in an almost choreographed fashion.

Louis had always wondered what they might look like in these moments. If their carnal dance would be as lovely to observe as it was to perform. A vain thought he'd never voice out loud, one he'd even chastised Lestat for on occasion. Still photographs were one thing, but Louis had never allowed Lestat to record them. The thought bred paranoia.

The fantasy, though…

His shirt was lifted over his head, the gold chain around his neck cold as it settled back against his skin with no barrier. Lestat kissed it as he tossed the garment to the floor. Kissed it back to warmth.

"I missed you, Louis," he whispered, helping when Louis attempted to lift his own shirt over his head before returning his lips to his chest and beginning to tug his slacks down his hips.

Obligingly, Louis lifted them. "I know. You tell me all the time."

"But you seem to be listening tonight, and I wanted you to hear…"

Louis' boxers came down next and Lestat was kissing his way down his belly, a hand trailing his chest, one gripping his hip. Louis rose up on his elbows, pushed his fingers into Lestat's golden curls, and halted him.

"Let me stop my wagging tongue from embarrassing me," Lestat pleaded. "Permettez-moi de mieux l'utiliser, mon cher…"

"It's not like that tonight." Louis pulled him back up, kissing the confusion off his face and throwing a leg around his waist. "You got something slick here?"

Lestat looked caught. "Only for my own needs."

"Not an inquisition." Louis pecked a kiss onto his nose. "Get it for us?"

Brows knitting together, Lestat stared back at him, unsure.

"Please?" Louis added.

"We haven't… Not since…"

"I know."

"Louis…"

Louis drew up, his lips ghosting the shell of Lestat's ear, and whispered; "Come home, Lestat…"

The uncertain tremor in Lestat's fingers as he fumbled in the drawer for the bottle cemented it for Louis that he should be the one to steer. He took it from him, directed him to lie back against the pillows, and finished undressing him while taking his turn to kiss and worship the skin he'd exposed. He pushed his fingers into Lestat's, felt Lestat's push into his hair, and sunk him into his mouth. This, too, he hadn't done since before everything went to shit. They'd pushed each other against walls with their hands slid down the front of one another's pants and Lestat had gone down on him. They'd taken the sporadic tumble in Louis' bed, rutting and writhing, and finishing with Lestat's very skilled head between Louis' thighs, but Louis had never returned the favor. Because it wasn't a favor, was it? He'd considered it groveling, then, and he'd taken it because he was lonely and horny and desperate and weak. It'd become a point of pride to get his and to leave Lestat wanting in his afterglow.

The memories brought him shame now. They brought him shame immediately after each fumble, but this was a new kind of shame and as he lavished attention around the velvety crown of Lestat's cock with the tip of his tongue, he reached in the velvet for the bottle of Ocean Motion.

"Ah. Yes. Of course," Lestat sighed as Louis came off of him, sitting back on his knees between Lestat's legs. He bent them up at the knee. "I should confess that I haven't been… It's been some years, now. Two, to be exact, wasn't it? I might need-"

"Hush, now." Louis dribbled a good amount of the stuff over Lestat's dick, slicked him down with a couple good pumps before saddling himself over his hips.

"Oh…"

"Let me take care of you," Louis said, four fingertips pressed to the center of Lestat's chest as he reached back with his other hand and nudged him up against himself.

"You don't want my tongue or fingers first?"

"Want you to relax…"

And then he was lowering himself, giving around Lestat's girth, stretching and filling and whiting out his own vision with the sharpness, the density, and the welcome penance of pain.

Lestat gasped, struck speechless. His hands gripped Louis' waist, making him brace for comment on its current frailty, and indeed, Louis saw his eyes widen with concerned awe.

His breath left him in a rush and he smiled on the other side of it, his eyes, having squeezed closed with the discomfort, opening to land on Lestat. "Like riding a bike," he joked.

Lestat seemed too apprehensive to find the humor in it. "I don't like for it to hurt you," he said.

"Hurt's all but gone. Just like coming home…" Louis emphasized his words with a gentle rock of his hips and Lestat jerked with restraint beneath him.

"You're-"

"You're beautiful, mon cher," Louis got in front of him, smirking and rocking his hips again, slow and then a little faster, letting his head fall to his shoulder as he found the pace. "Your mouth never stops, you know? I don't know if you ever hear me when I say it."

Lestat's fingers were gripping his waist hard enough almost to hurt with the effort to keep himself passive, to be the one to receive. "I was only going to say that you’ll never achieve the apex of your pleasure from that angle, Louis, you should-"

Louis sighed, rising and falling on him, now. Bouncing up and down on him and taking note how Lestat's toned stomach tensed, how his hips were bucking slightly with the motion to meet him on every downward thrust. "This ain't a means to my end, I told you. You got croissants stuffed in your ears or what? Écoutez-moi. Tell me how it feels for you…"

"Like heaven. Always like heaven. Like the first cool rain after a drought, like-"

"Nah nah nah… Is it working for you?" He emphasized 'working' with a dramatic roll of his body. "Tell me what you want, Lestat. It's always you comin' in, rescuin' me when I cry for help… Let me be what you need…"

"I live and breathe at your pleasure, Louis, I-"

Louis clapped a hand over his mouth, another behind his head and lowered his face to eye-level with him. "Ten years, Lestat. Ten years of clumsy stumble after clumsy stumble, fallin' over yourself trying to please me and gettin' it wrong so often you end up overcorrectin' and pissin' me off all over again…"

The Southern drawl was out in full effect and Louis wouldn't have been able to reel it in if he'd wanted to. But it drove Lestat wild and he knew it. If he hadn't known it, the extra seasoning in Lestat's upward thrusts would've caught him on.

"But every time I tried to light your fire, tried to provoke you, picked a fight that had us screamin' the old townhouse down, the apartment buildin'… you never made me feel like I had to crawl back to you. And I'm too proud for that, anyhow, but that's beside the point…"

He'd forgotten himself, the motion rocking them was all Lestat's now, and the effort to keep his voice steady through it, to say his piece, it had left his body prone.

"There…" Louis removed his palm from Lestat's mouth. "Shut you up long enough at last…"

Lestat's jaw unhinged, his tongue licking a spot of blood from his eyetooth. The force of Louis' palm and the battering of their flesh seemed to have resulted in him cutting his lip on his teeth. He swallowed, and then he spoke.

"You want to please me?" he asked.

"Yes," Louis hissed back.

Lestat's torso crunched as he folded, one swift movement, and threw Louis back on the bed without leaving him. All that red-blooded cocksman talk abandoned Louis and he was left moaning, his hands pinned under Lestat's by his ears as his ankles locked behind Lestat’s back.

"Then let me fuck you properly…"

And so he did, driving into Louis harder and faster, and listening and feeling for his responses. Lestat knew how to read Louis like a book. He slowed his hips when it got to be too good, he knew just when that tightness, that build was cresting dangerously close to the edge, and he knew just how long to wait for it to taper. He'd keep Louis teetering like that for as long as he liked.

Because it was what Louis liked. Because despite how life with Lestat could feel like a revolution around the man, a perpetual orbit; when they made love, Louis became the center of the universe.

 

---

 

Lestat pumped into Louis like a graceful machine, without falter, without stutter. The muscles of his back worked as he gyrated and Louis whimpered beneath him.

"Je taime, je taime… Louis…"

"Fuck, you're deep…"

Armand split his attention between the two monitors the scene was playing out on. He had a bird's eye view over the bed on the one, a grainier, zoomed-in shot of them in profile on the other where he could see Louis head thrown back against the plush green velvet.

The sound was tinnier than he'd have liked, but there wasn't much to be done about that. The lack of carpet did not help to soften it. But to hear those sounds. Louis’ sweet moans layered over Lestat’s deep murmurs of devotion… God, it had been such a long time coming and there had been so much leading up and… and…

Louis’ moans grew loud, his fingers gripping the back of Lestat's head, yanking his hair and tugging his it back. Lestat cried out as well, leveling off into a breathless laugh as his hips stuttered. Armand, whose own fluids were still cooling on his belly from a premature swell of enthusiasm around the time Louis first announced that he was close, gasped aloud at the sight of it all.

They were spent, the three of them, and while Louis cuddled up into the crook of Lestat's arm, while Lestat covered his face in kisses and showered him in praise that could barely be heard through the speakers of the cobbled-together entertainment hub, Armand reached for tissues he kept handy.

Lestat's dance belt had sustained a hit. Armand did his best to wipe that off as well as himself. He'd likely need to toss it back into the wash. That was alright, it would turn up in somebody's basket and they would no doubt return it to Lestat once it was laundered clean. It wasn't like there were any other dancers in the building.

What a way to end the day, though. And what a week! With more bright spots to come.

Armand tucked himself back into his pajamas and went to dispose of the clinging, pulpy tissues in the bin before washing his hands and returning to his spot on the mattress. He tugged the pack of Cool Strikes he'd lifted from Daniel's apartment out from under his pillow. There were only four left, but if ever there had been an occasion… Then he leaned over to grab the green crystal ashtray he'd borrowed from Madeleine and the book of matches with Tuan and Quang's logo printed on the face, placing the cigarette between his lips and striking one.

The first few puffs made him cough, still, but getting those out of the way only added to the heady high he felt in his post-orgasm glow. He luxuriated. Sprawled himself out with his head hanging back off the end of the mattress so he could still gaze up at the scene in Lestat's bed. Inverted bliss. The lovers' sinking into their dreams. He rested the ashtray on his belly, tapping the ashes off as they built up on the end, pretending he was an old Hollywood movie starlet, post-coital and wrapped in emerald silk and ostrich feathers.

Would Louis have Lestat move back in, now? Would he need to source more carpet or should he keep the floors as is? Perhaps he was jumping ahead. Claudia was still a factor, after all. But, well… Armand had seen first hand just how ready her wings were to spread and fly…

"An incredible week," he muttered aloud, taking a deep pull from the cigarette, exhaling, and watching the smoke billow up in the air to hang. So many good things had happened and there was still so much to come.

Chapter 11: Like an arts thing?

Summary:

a few scenes from Second Date Eve

Notes:

A shorter chapter this time, but Ch 12 will need all of its own real estate so wanted to go ahead and share this one with y'all <3

He'd gotten up early, anticipating a knock from Claudia to pull him away from the blinking cursor on his screen. The knock never came.

She's probably better off with her lady friend anyway, Daniel thought. Safe from my influence.

Not that he thought Claudia was so impressed by him that she might start emulating him. To be entirely fair, Daniel was struck a little intimidated by her. He felt more like a specimen than anything under her gaze. But that was just desserts, after all. They were two of a kind in that regard.

By the time 9:30 hit -after two and a half mugs of coffee- Daniel's stomach began to growl. All his regular activities in the bathroom had been jump-started and while he'd been in there, he'd brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his curls, and splashed some water on his face. He supposed he was fit enough to potentially run into Armand in the lobby on his way out for a bite. He slid his feet into his sneakers, laced them up, and stepped out into the hall. While he turned his key in the lock, he heard the elevator stop on the floor behind him, ding, and open.

"And I don't appreciate the accusation that I am following you, either. I am merely paying a call on my handsome new friend who just happens to… be standing right in front of us. Good morning, Daniel."

Ah, shit…

He turned, stuffing his keys in his pocket with a plastered-on smile. "Morning."

"Perfect," Louis grumbled, trudging to his door. "Mind taking him off my hands, Danny?"

Daniel clocked the way Lestat's eyebrow twitched at 'Danny.' He shrugged and kept up the polite smile. He'd said he didn't want to get in the middle of all of this, yet here he stood. Between them.

"Have you eaten, Danny?" Lestat asked as Louis shut himself into his apartment with a slam of the door and a dramatic turning of the deadbolt.

 

---

 

Louis found himself slightly annoyed that Claudia was already gone by the time he'd come back from Lestat's apartment. His own note was left under a mug on the counter.

Went out for brunch with Madeleine. Be back for dinner.

Unbelievable…

And he was expected to cook, of course. She'd split off immediately after the apartment tour yesterday as well. She couldn't have put 'brunch' off until the lunch half of the portmanteau was pulling a little more weight?

He lifted the mug, crumpled the note, and set about unenthusiastically making himself a cup of coffee.

He could smell Lestat on himself, the shame of it all wafting up his nostrils with each breath.

"Will you want to tell Claudia before she finds an apartment, or do you think she will use it as an excuse to take root?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, since you have asked me to move back in…"

Louis was recounting the evening in his head, now, scrabbling to recall how he might've given that impression. Yes, he'd gotten lost in Lestat. It'd been his call, getting dessert. It'd been his choice to stop at Lestat's apartment when the elevator doors opened on his floor first. He'd already decided, by then, that he wanted the physical intimacy. The rest had all fallen into place so naturally. Again, it was the audacious assumption that pissed him off more than anything else.

What I get for goin' and givin' him a little more…

Still, the familiar old ache in him was nice. The warm smell of Lestat's sheets on his skin. He was still vibrating under it from their lovemaking. Six months was a long time to be deprived. It'd felt like home…

Home…

"Shit."

 

---

 

Daniel sat, his plate of half finished pancakes gone cold, his cigarette turning to a cylinder of ash between his knuckles as Lestat rounded the end of an almost too detailed account of his night spent with Louis.

"Do you see how I might've been lead to believe we were getting back together?"

He didn't know what to say. The answer, in this moment, was yes. But he'd only gotten Lestat's side of the story.

"I mean, I see why you got your hopes up, but I don't think he was deliberately leading you to that. It just doesn't sound like him."

"Non. It doesn't. Which is why I don't buy for a second that he wasn't considering it last night in the throes of our passion."

"Well, maybe he was, but he got cold feet. And he's got Claudia staying with him, so there's no way you could have really expected to move back in so immediately."

"Well, of course I didn't expect that. I have been patient. I would have continued to be."

“Patient.” Daniel shook his head as he tapped his ash off over the silver ashtray before finishing the thing and stubbing it out. "You never stopped hooking up.”

“Va te faire foutre— As I told you, those encounters have all been initiated by Louis. Has he implied otherwise?”

Daphne was hawk-eyeing them from the counter. She'd been abruptly waived away last time she approached with the check and Daniel figured he was probably safe to light up a second cigarette. They wouldn't be settling the bill any time soon.

“Louis never really—” Yes, Daniel recalled with a wince, he had. “He…talked about calling you when he was anxious at night.”

"Oui. I'm not the devil waiting by the phone for an opportunistic ring. I don't take for granted that when I hearken to his call, I will be rewarded with his affection. It always begins with him. It's always his choice."

Daniel could believe that. Not that he'd assessed Louis to be particularly needy in that way, just… lonesome. And in need of a distraction. Daniel, himself, couldn't think of a better one.

"We hadn't gone as far as we'd gone last night. And the passion was more or less one-sided, though I could see that he was forcefully tamping his own down at times. A stark contrast to last night."

"Yeah," Daniel nodded. He felt the urge to come clean here, but it felt more like Louis' business to disclose. Was it deceitful to withhold, as a friend? He wasn't sure. But then he considered Louis outside his apartment door, tossing him to Lestat like a scrap of meat to keep a rottweiler at bay and thought better of it. If enough time lapsed before Lestat found out about their almost-fling, it would likely make him angrier. Like starving that rottweiler. Lestat might not frighten him anymore, but Daniel had a history of not being frightened by things that could bite him. "I should probably tell you something…"

Another unsmoked cylinder of ash grew out from the filter, breaking off and dropping as he gestured, as a film of flop sweat emerged from his pores from walking a tightrope over a pit of too much information, and Lestat sat silent, listening, cruelly reserving his opinion.

"I see," he said. "Well."

This is it, he's gonna bloody your lip and black your eye out in the alley, now, and you'll look like a fucking mess and Louis will hate you and Armand won't want to be seen with you and-

"But how can I blame you?" Lestat sighed. "I feel I owe you some gratitude for being a gentleman about it and seeing that he purged himself safely before bed."

"I…"

Again, Daniel didn't think any gratitude was in order for not fucking his fall-down drunk neighbor, but maybe he was shaping up to be less of a scumbag than the world took him for at a glance. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing…

"I can see that you were worried I would not take this news well…"

Daniel let out a laugh that was like twisting a release valve. "Yeah. I mean…"

"I am not angry with you." Finally Lestat smiled. "Should we get the check?"

"Actually, can I ask you something…"

Now that the adrenaline has kicked in…

Daphne had risen from the stool she sat on as Lestat's wrist flicked up, but he was lowering it again and as if he were maestro and she were first chair, she settled back down with a look of defeat on her face.

"Of course."

"You ever notice anything strange in your apartment? I mean, like… thumping in the walls or things going missing…"

"Ah, has Louis been in your ear about the little gremlins living in the walls…" He rose his fingers and waggled them in the air, mocking the notion.

Daniel couldn't help finding it a bit distasteful, but then, he couldn't exactly imagine what it must be like to be the full-time refuge of someone with those sorts of delusions, either.

"Not just Louis. Had a pack of Cool Strikes disappear on me… had plugs and wires rearranged, I think. At least one weird thud. Could be rats, I suppose, but you'd think you'd hear the chewing."

Lestat laughed. "Rats… Mon dieu, no, we do not have rats in our building, mon ami. Not at The Palazzo."

"I mean, I get it's fancy digs, but it is New Graven, right? Could it be helped?"

"You're not hearing me. If there were rats, Daniel, I guarantee that they would be dealt with before they reached your floor. This is the most lovingly tended residential building in the city, likely the state."

"It damn sure better be with the cost of rent. Although, I'm getting a break there, so-"

"Are you?" Lestat cocked his head. "Interesting."

"Think it's just because Armand was impressed that I'm a published writer."

"Ah, I see. I was grandfathered into my rate. Well… Louis' rate, now."

Ohhhh…

"So you… when you offered to let him stay in the apartment…"

"I don't like to point out my virtues, but… yes. I didn't want to see him left in dire straits and I knew that I could afford a similarly priced downgrade. I was terrified to move out of the building considering his state of mind."

It was Daniel's turn to quietly nod.

"He struggled, you know, moving here. It took him a while to turn a profit with the gallery. Half of my salary was going to overhead and to acquiring art to sell, the other half to making a life for ourselves here, to the rent even though it was reduced thanks to The Romanus Foundation."

Daniel perked, exhaling the smoke he'd just pulled into his lungs out the side of his mouth and leaning forward on his elbows. "What's that? Like an arts thing?"

"Yes. Like an arts thing. I am an alumni of the Marius de Romanus Exceptional Youth Arts Scholarship. The Foundation afforded me a life I would otherwise have never been able to attain for myself."

"That name…"

Lestat smiled. "The name will of course be vaguely familiar to you even as a newcomer. It is plastered all around the city. The performing arts center, the botanical gardens…"

"The aquarium?" Daniel realized aloud.

"Yes. He financed the breaking of ground for that, as well."

Pins were being planted in the corkboard of Daniel's mind. Red string wrapping around them. He tried to recall the strange thing Armand had said about a namesake fish.

“So that foundation is affiliated with The Palazzo somehow?”

Lestat looked beyond amused. "This interests you?"

"I was a journalist before I was a fiction writer. I like to follow threads."

"I see." Lestat helped himself to one of Daniel's cigarettes and leaned across the table for a light. "Well, I'm afraid it's not all that interesting. The building's affiliation, that is. Some apartments served as temporary housing for scholarship recipients. Not much thread there. But the man, himself… Now, there lies all the intrigue."

"You had a benefactor. Did you know him personally?"

"In some respects, Marius was like a father to me. A rather off-campus one mostly. Of course, I spent a great deal of time overseas, as well. While he was still with us, though, I always felt welcomed to seek out his counsel. We spoke on the phone often, we wrote letters. He was…kind above all. Stern, but generous and fair. He had a knack for recognizing gifts in people who may have otherwise never found them. ‘Diamonds in the rough,’ he called us."

Daniel stopped himself from saying that it was hard to imagine Lestat 'in the rough' at all. The more he thought about it, Lestat being a transplant to high society rather than a product of it might actually better explain some of his eccentricities.

“So, you were one of the ‘Exceptional Youth’ living at The Palazzo,” Daniel guessed.

“Oh no, never. I was sent directly to a fine boarding school outside of Paris, and went on to full-time dance instruction from there. You may have noticed I picked up a slight accent,” Lestat added with a wink.

Daniel nearly dropped his cigarette. “You’re not from France?”

Lestat shrugged. “On paper, no. A New Graven boy. I became a late-blooming student of French at the age of eight. I only visited the states a few times before moving back at 22.”

“Eight is a hell of an age to go overseas alone.”

“I have nothing but gratitude for my experience.”

“Gratitude and a break on your rent.”

“Guilty as charged,” Lestat conceded with a shrug of his wide shoulders.

A new puzzle piece to turn over, Daniel thought. Somehow he now had less information than when he’d asked his question.

Lestat did seem to have a knack for leaving him that way.

 

---

 

"Good to see you, Lou," Claudia sing-songed, dropping her keys loudly in the bowl, a full seven hours after Louis had found her note.

"I heard ya, sis…"

"Well, you could have greeted me when I came in the door."

She pulled open the canvas curtain dramatically, revealing herself to Louis who sprawled on the sofa, her bed, with a book in his face.

"Must be some really engrossing literature."

"It's… pulp. But it's got merit."

Claudia squinted at the cover and stifled a laugh, moving on to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

"Another full day out?" asked Louis, giving in and closing the book after all.

"Yeah. Went all over. Lots of cute little shops, not that I can afford half the clothes in 'em and not that they'd even fit me, but with Madeleine out of a job now and needing the work-" She lifted the lid off the pot on the stove ad peered into it. "Oh, smells good."

"Gumbo. Corn bread's in the oven keeping warm for you. You're welcome."

“Barely been here a week, you think I’m that homesick?”

“Maybe I am.”

Louis watched her finish her glass of water and set it on the counter, crossing her arms. "You know, you were out all night, too. Don't think I didn't notice."

"I didn't say nothin'."

"No, maybe you didn't, but I can tell you're cross.

"I'm not cross. Just tired."

True enough. He was bone tired and he was glad Claudia was making a friend and finding her way in the city and he didn't know why he couldn't find it in himself to express it.

"I can tell something's weighing on you, Louis, and I bet I know by just how much. About 160 pounds?"

"You can lay off. Look around, do you see him here? Do you see any of his shit? You think I took him back?"

"No, but I know you're playing games with yourself, dangling him in front of your nose like a carrot on a string."

"Eat your dinner, sis. Be sure to put up the leftovers when you're done." He stood from the couch, tossing the book onto the coffee table. "Can you do that much?"

He didn't care for his own tone, if he was being honest with himself, but it'd just exploded out of him before he could calibrate his anger.

She scoffed. "You're joking…"

"What's the joke?"

Louis went to the entryway of the apartment to grab his jacket and his own set of keys.

"You're leaving?"

"Just need some fresh air."

He could hear Claudia's annoyed huffing, the clattering of dishes in the cabinet as he slipped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him for the second time that day.

He hated himself when he got like this. He couldn't be around anyone, it seemed. The only ones who'd ever had the patience for it were often the ones hit with the most shrapnel. Best just to remove himself.

He took the stairs, not wanting to risk trapping anyone in the tight space of the elevator with this version of himself, and ran into Daniel as he turned the final corner before the lobby.

It was clear that Daniel wanted to stop and chat, but Louis decided to spare him. he'd only bring down his mood and there was no avoiding the topic of Lestat with Daniel now. Not with Lestat in his ear.

Pressing forward, Louis hoped Daniel could understand that it wasn't anything personal. Not to do with him, anyway. If he and Lestat were striking up a friendship, who was Louis to stand in their way?

 

---

 

That evening, Daniel's dinner was solitary. He'd brought a notebook and his pen with him to the diner in case inspiration struck. It hadn't. He had too much on his mind to leave any room for Antonio and Christian. He was still reeling from having learned that Lestat was not technically French at all. The name Lestat? Shockingly, not even a French name. Just something his mother had come up with in the throes of a headache from a botched epidural. De Lioncourt was adopted later for the stage. Daniel could see, as the man pinned himself by the wings before him for study, that Lestat was quite comfortable in his status, if more humble than what met the eye prior to inspection. He held no allusions about how he'd come by his success. Sure, talent and hard work were factors, but he seemed gracious for it. For the opportunity. For the sheer luck.

Daniel could sort of relate. He, too, had found himself exalted through circumstance. Only, the one whose hand had helped to lift him up was not that of a benefactor five years dead. It had been the hand of Alice.

He hoped she was doing better without him. How could she not be?

He tried not to let wistful thoughts of the life he once thought he'd live with her steer him into the park. The sun was beginning to go down and old habits threatened to turn his feet down the split in the sidewalk that lead to trouble. An anonymous hand down your pants could turn to a needle in your arm as fast as you could say your ABC's, and he knew for a fact now that it was that kind of park.

No, he made it into the lobby of The Palazzo and exchanged greetings with Eglee. She had replaced Santiago while he was out, and he caught no sight of Armand.

"He's off," Eglee said. "Gone home with a bounce in his heels, probably thinking about you."

He'd expected her to tease him a bit, and perhaps she was privately.

"Think I'd be bothering him if I gave him a call?"

"Did he give you his number?"

"Yeah, I've got it."

Eglee rolled her eyes, red lipstick smirk driving him a little crazy, a little hot under his collar. "Why do you think that is?"

She made a valid point. Daniel would be surprised to find Armand up to much at all if he wasn't out at the cinema or working on repairs in someone's unit. Based on all that he'd gleaned from the guy, he was a bit of a homebody.

Understatement.

A shut-in, really. Not one without interests, of course, but what did Daniel really have to fear? At worst, he might be interrupting a rewatch of an old classic? The dissection of an appliance?

Maybe he'll be relaxing in the bath or something…

He nearly shoulder-checked Louis on his way up the stairs. He had, at the ready, a quip about why the both of them might be avoiding the elevator now, but Louis marched past him with a tight-lipped smile and a nod of the head.

That didn't feel great. Daniel wondered how long he'd be in the doghouse for his breakfast with Lestat. It wasn't like they could avoid each other forever. He tried to ignore the pit in his gut Louis' brushing off had opened up and let himself into his apartment, kicked off his shoes, and went for the phone, grateful that the place had come furnished with a cordless one he could carry into the bedroom and flop onto the bed with. He dialed the number pre-programmed into the phone's speed dial and then made his way there, falling onto his back and letting the waves rock him to and fro while he waited.

Armand answered on the fourth ring. "Hello? This is Armand…"

He sounded a little suspicious, so Daniel was quick to speak. "Oh, hey, it's Daniel."

"Daniel, hi- Ah!"

He pulled the phone back from his ear a little as Armand hissed into the receiver on the other end. "Everything alright?"

"Yes. Fine. Apologies, I spilled something piping hot on my thigh just now. Clumsy of me."

Daniel did his best not to linger on the words 'piping', 'hot', and 'thigh.' "If now's a bad time, I can-"

"No, no, not at all. I'm sorry, give me just a moment to…"

"Sure."

He imagined Armand removing his pants, admonished himself for it, and waited for him to pick back up.

"Alright. Again, I apologize for-"

"No need. Whatcha up to?"

"Ah! Um, well… I was just having dinner and watching some… television."

"Anything good on?"

"Oh, just… just reruns, you know. Luanne and Shelley."

"Never watched it, myself. What're those gals up to?"

There was a long pause before Armand's velvet voice came back over the line. "It's… the one where they kiss."

Daniel would've shot up if the waterbed had allowed him to. "No shit… they let them kiss on that show?"

"Was there something you needed, Daniel? Something I could help you with?"

"No help needed. I was just wondering if you'd given any thought to where you'd like to go for dinner tomorrow. We could do Chinese, Italian, um… Indiannnnnn… Uh…"

Idiot, why did you say it like that?

Armand laughed a little on the other end. "What a wealth of option."

"I mean, I can be in the mood for just about anything, myself."

Daniel was beginning to feel like he might've benefited from rehearsing a little.

"Italian sounds good."

Daniel recalled the last time he'd been on a date to an Italian restaurant. He'd slopped red sauce all over his shirt and embarrassed Alice so bad by scooping it up with a breadstick that they'd left halfway through the meal. He'd be straight this time, though.

"Yeah, sure. Italian. Great. Will seven work?"

"Eight, instead? I've got… something. Eight would work better for me."

"Ah, some sort of repair by appointment kind of deal?"

"Some tenants prefer to be home for such things."

"I get it. A 24/7 job."

"Yes." Armand sounded grateful for the understanding. "I'll be wrapped up and ready to go by eight."

"Well don't wrap up too tight. Heh." Idiot. "I just mean…"

"I'll try to dress appropriately. Daniel, I must let you go, it turns out I haven't actually seen this part of the episode, so-"

"Oh, of course, I don't want to eat up your night. I'll save that for tomorrow."

Fucking smooooooth.

"Yes. Tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it."

"That makes two of us."

"Goodnight, Daniel."

"Goodnight." He hung up the call, rolled himself over, and muffled a groan into his pillow.

 

Chapter 12: men can be so greedy

Summary:

Daniel tries to keep up with Armand after their dinner date takes an unexpected turn.

The decision whether or not to line his eyes in the kohl Madeleine had given him last week loomed large over Armand as he studied himself in the mirror. He was happy with his hair, though he'd sustained a burn in the webbing between his thumb and forefinger handling the old waving iron he'd perhaps overheated on the stove. The waves held beautifully even without the setting lotion Madeleine had admonished him for. He wore a cream colored shirt, suspenders under a brown tweed jacket with matching trousers, and a green silk ascot around his throat.

He brought the point of the kohl liner near his eye and hesitated. When he'd practiced before, he'd managed to get it on his eyelashes and hadn't realized. When he'd blinked, the cosmetic had smeared under his eye a bit.

He sighed and set the thing down on the bathroom counter. There was one last thing to do before meeting Daniel in the lobby and he'd cleverly left himself just enough time. He left the bathroom for his monitors, switched on Louis' apartment, and found him and Claudia stood in the living room. He raised the volume so he could hear what they were saying.

"And then I get home and where are you? Out again. And you expect me to believe you were just hanging out downstairs at the dressmaker's?"

"Your phone was ringing off the hook, Lou… What was I supposed to do?"

"Unplug the thing!"

"He's out of control! You gave him another sniff of the catnip and now he's all worked up for it."

Armand switched off the monitor, relieved. Now that Claudia was around, Louis was slipping out more. A worrisome new development made more concerning by the clearly troubled state of mind Louis was in as of late. Armand couldn't keep an eye on him if he wasn't in his apartment.

Or in Lestat's.

But he was home from the gallery, now, and at least he and Claudia were talking. Armand didn't expect Claudia to let Louis run out on her another night in a row. He'd seen the abrasive care they showed for one another in the last handful of days the girl had been around and he'd been impressed by her mature understanding of her older cousin. If it was true that anyone could love Louis as much as Armand did, it was true of Claudia. Lestat, of course, still left them all in the dust, but that was why it was so imperative that he and Louis work things out.

As triumphant as their lovemaking had been the other night and as hopeful as Armand had foolishly allowed himself to get, he hadn't been entirely shattered by the way it had all come undone so immediately in the morning that followed. He'd been set up and knocked down plenty of times over the course of the last six months as the pair came together and fell apart, time after time. Logic would suggest that having reached a new height, Armand should've felt his heart plummet all the further. But for once, he had other prospects from which to source his happiness. And to fuel his anxieties. But the way those two things twined together in him was thrilling. More thrilling to be in the show, it turned out, rather than on the outside simply observing.

He checked the hour on his watch, tapped his shoe a few times, waiting for the second hand to travel back around to 12, for the start of the approximate minute and a half it'd take him to get up to the lobby from where he stood, now, to land him right in the center of it at near-to-exactly one minute until 8. When it reached the top of the watch's face at last, he was off, grabbing an umbrella, unlatching the chain, the deadbolts, putting himself on the other side of his apartment door, and letting the anxious thrum under his skin drive him forward up the stairwell.

Italian food. He hadn't had Italian in a very long time, but he remembered being quite good with getting the long noodles to wrap around his fork. Even with his smallish mouth, he very rarely spattered, but he knew how to remain polite and attractive in those instances, too. He gotten quite good at the demure and graceful dab.

He found Daniel leaning with his elbow on Eglee's desk while she painted her long red nails.

"You missed a spot."

"Ta langue avant que je le fasse, garçon stupide…"

"Is it nail varnishing that I pay you for, Eglee?" Armand announced himself, startling them both.

There was now a long red stripe up the back of Eglee's ring finger and she hissed at him. Daniel stood up straight, as if caught. As if he'd been encouraging the behavior and now wanted none of the blame for it.

Of course, Armand knew better. This was, perhaps, the 20th time he'd caught Eglee polishing her nails on the job. He knew Daniel was not to blame.

"I like the, uh… What's that thing called? The green…" Daniel gestured to his own throat, where he'd missed a spot shaving.

"The ascot," Armand supplied, smiling. "Yes. Thank you. I wanted something to compliment your eyes."

Eglee made a small sound of disgust, but Armand ignored it.

"Well it looks nice. Fancy."

"Not too fancy, I hope." He felt himself wince and attempted to school it.

Daniel smiled, shaking his head. "Not at all. I'm just hoping I don't look too much like a shlub next to you. I wore my nicest pair of jeans."

"You look spectacular, Daniel." He reached for the cuff of Daniel's leather jacket and tugged him away from Eglee's desk, leading them to the door. "I do suspect it's going to rain, so I've-"

"I thought we might take my car."

Riding passenger in Daniel's car…

He had a black compact, dented in three places and scratched up along the driver's side. A vehicle that would beg the question "why not buy a new one" if Armand had not already read in an interview that Daniel took a wholly pragmatic and utilitarian approach to transportation.

I'm not much of a car guy.

That had been the charming quote. Armand wasn't, either. He had no desire to become one. He'd given it lots of thought, of course, and over the years he'd come to the conclusion that if he ever found himself in need of a way to get around, if transportation in New Graven ever suddenly became unreliable (not likely with the way Mayor Mazzoni was cleaning up the city), he wouldn't mind owning a small motorbike. The prospect always made him a little giddy to consider.

I would have to source a leather jacket, he thought. Then he and Daniel would really look like a pair.

"I cleaned out the floor of the passenger seat for you," Daniel said apologetically as he held the door open for Armand to duck in. "But I couldn't do much for the smell. Sorry. Left a takeaway container of nachos in here last summer and she hasn't been the same, since."

The smell was negligible. Armand had certainly encountered worse in his line of work. "It's not so bad."

Daniel shut him in and came around the other side. Seeing him in the driver's seat was a surprising little treat. Watching him twist the key in the ignition, let off the brake, shift the gear… All things Armand had read about while researching the differences between manual and automatic vehicles. They reversed out of the parking spot, Daniel's hand on the back of Armand's headrest, his neck stretched taut and corded with the effort of looking behind them.

"Need to get the rearview replaced."

Armand might've chastised him for the failure to prioritize safety if it weren't for the fact that Daniel had neglected to put on his seatbelt and Armand, having not ridden in a car for such a long time, had failed to consider his own until he'd noticed Daniel's lack of care. He didn't want to seem like a spoilsport.

Also, there were the butterflies in his stomach to consider.

"I've not ridden in a car in years."

"The beauty of well-funded public transportation, baby," Daniel said as they pulled out onto the street.

His windshield wipers squeaked at intervals and the pattering of rain on the hood was pleasant to Armand's ears. He thought about the cassette Daniel had bought him the week before, how we would like to listen to the song with Daniel again.

He also thought about how he didn't mind being called 'baby,' when it came from Daniel's lips.

"I'm surprised you don't have a tape deck," Armand mused.

"What do you think used to go here."

Armand watched Daniel slip his fingers into what looked -now that he'd mentioned it- like a tape deck sized hole in the console.

"What happened?"

"Pawned it."

Armand could imagine why. "Oh."

"I'll get around to having it replaced, too. Eventually. Not in much of a rush since moving here. I've been getting around on my feet just fine. Do you drive?"

"Me?" The question had surprised him. He thought it would seem so obvious that he did not. Wasn't capable. "No, I never learned."

"Your adopted dad never took you outside of the city to-"

"No," Armand cut him off. "Not to drive, anyway."

He saw the crease in Daniel's brow. Had he said something strange? He thought he'd best change the subject.

"Have you been to the restaurant we're going to?"

"No, the only Italian joint I've tried in New Graven so far is Santino's."

Armand felt his face scrunch up at the name. "Well, I wish you would've asked around for a recommendation before eating there. Anyone could've told you they have a reputation for rats. They're always being shut down by the health department."

"So that's what I felt scurrying over my shoe," Daniel said with some humor. "Thought the waiter was getting fresh and playing footsie under the table."

Armand had an intense dislike for the creatures. He found the anecdote so repulsive that he struggled to think of a way to respond.

"That was a joke," Daniel added. "And don't worry, I've had all my shots."

"We've a real problem with rats in New Graven. I spend a fortune each year trying to keep the building free of them."

"What's the motto? Give us your four-legged and furry, give us your nibbling and flea-ridden?"

Armand turned to look at the passing traffic lights, reds and greens smearing across the window, raindrops in motion distorting it all.

"So, that's been Rat Talk," Daniel summarized. "Suppose we should move on…"

"How's Louis?" Armand asked, unable to curb the drive to pry into Daniel's assessment of that ongoing storyline. "Have you spoken with him much since his cousin arrived?"

"No, actually. Been seeing a lot of her, though." He sped up to get through a yellow light and took his hand from the wheel, pushing his curls back from his forehead in a manner that made him look slightly nervous. "I just mean… she's a cool kid."

"Santiago said you share your cigarettes with her."

"Ah, that… It's not-"

"I don't personally care, of course. She is of legal age to be smoking them. I just wonder that it isn't influencing your decision to cut back."

"My decision to-"

"Something you'd said upon our first meeting. I'd offered you an ashtray and you declined. Don't you remember?"

"Oh, right. Sure."

"Have you since changed your mind?"

"It's not the sort of thing I think someone chooses to backpedal on."

Ah, perhaps I'm being insensitive, Armand thought.

The nuance of addiction was not lost on him, after all. "Yes, you're right. I apologize for how I phrased that. I only meant to say that I am surprised you've been designating a time and a place for the habit. That's all."

Was that any better?

"Was doing better those few days after my pack went missing. Maybe I should just ditch what I've got left."

"I hope it doesn't sound like I'm patronizing you."

Daniel's hand came off the gearshift and landed on Armand's knee, giving him a pat that shocked his blood into foam.

"Don't worry about it, you just sound like a sweet guy with a concern for my health." Daniel glanced at him with a smirk and reached into his jacket, producing a nearly empty pack of Cool Strikes. He placed them between his teeth before returning that hand to the wheel so that he could use his left to crank down the window. "Eh?"

Armand could see that he was planning to toss the last of the pack and he quickly yanked it from his fingers just after he'd taken it from his mouth. "Wait," he commanded, before his defense or reason were ready.

Daniel looked confused and Armand was grateful for the traffic ahead requiring him to split his attention.

"I just… think that you might regret that. What if I hold onto them for you?"

It only served to baffle the man further, but he cranked the window closed again, shaking his head. "It's not gonna send me into the jones, Armand."

"Right. You don't consider yourself addicted, I know. I just think…"

What do you think? That he'll understand your desire for the keepsake? Think HARDER.

"I think, perhaps, the night might lead us to desire one later…"

Of course, there was no other excuse to give but that. A smoke after dinner. That was a practical given, right?

Daniel seemed taken aback by the suggestion, his hand coming to grip the gearshift with knuckles gone white. "I, uh… I didn't think you'd… partake."

"It's not habitual, but I understand it's a customary indulgence for gentlemen."

"I see…"

Thinking better of the notion that he should hang on to the pack, Armand gently set them on the dash for Daniel to take again if he chose.

"Is it meant to be a surprise, where we're going?"

As if shaken out of a reverie unknown to Armand, Daniel blinked his eyes open wide. "Oh. No, not a surprise, I just forgot to tell you. You know a place called Pompeii? Number one Italian food spot in New Graven Weekly, so."

"Ah, well I hope you've brought cash for valet parking."

Again, Daniel looked a little caught in the headlights.

"Most upscale establishments in the heart of the city have it. It is a bit of a requirement unless you've arrived in a cab."

Or a limousine.

"I think I've got at least twenty on me." Daniel squinted, hunching over the wheel and peering ahead. "That looks like the place."

"Indeed. You'll want to pull up alongside the curb. Someone will fetch my door and you'll leave your keys in the ignition."

He felt it best to explain the practice ahead of time so that Daniel would be prepared. Armand knew very well and firsthand how alienating it could be when one wasn't made aware of the standard practices in any given situation. He hadn't accounted for the odd look Daniel was giving him now, however. He hadn't considered how he might explain his familiarity.

"I've been here," he said as Daniel rode up alongside the curb.

 

---

 

Armand graciously thanked their host for seating them and turned his attention back to Daniel, who appeared to be in a bit of a daze.

"You'll grow accustomed to it."

"No wonder this is the city everyone's got a story about being mugged in. $6 fee just to have your car parked in their garage plus a tip?"

Armand didn't want to show his amusement, or give away how charmed he was by Daniel overshooting the average tip by $2, so he lifted his water glass with both his hands and hid his smile behind it.

"For your hair, sir."

The host had returned with a clean white hand towel and Daniel, clearly embarrassed, patted his curls dry before handing the towel back to her. "Thank god there was an ATM nearby."

"I'm sorry I didn't think to grab my umbrella."

"Why should you have? This place has an umbrella guy."

This time, Armand couldn't help the giggle. "Welcome to your new tax bracket, Mr. Molloy."

"Sorry. I'm being a downer. The place is really nice. You said you've been here before?"

"Several times. Not recently. Before I became… busy with The Palazzo."

He felt scrutinized under Daniel's look and he lifted his water glass again, gulping until their waiter arrived with menus and a wine list.

To Armand's surprise, Daniel ordered a glass of red wine for himself. Of course, a solitary glass of wine was nothing to worry about. He'd seen first hand that Daniel could control himself when that was the objective, but it left him in a difficult spot. If he decided to forego the opportunity for a glass, it would certainly come off as haughty. Furthermore, he wanted to impress an air of sophistication he often felt he must perform.

Two grown men on a date… How should this logically go? If Daniel was having a glass, shouldn't Armand?

"I'll have the same," he told the waiter with a smile.

He'd not had a drop to drink in several years. He'd only ever been drunk one time. The consequences for that…

Well, he'd learned his lesson. A two glass limit for social functions from then on, but mostly he'd just stuck to one. You got good at making it last, and one glass was plenty for him. His tolerance had never quite developed as a result, and he'd never felt as though he were wanting for more.

A lightweight, he believed was the term.

They were left to look over the menus and Armand scanned furiously for the old favorite, the Pappa al Pomodoro soup he'd always gotten before, but he wasn't seeing it. He could feel his palms beginning to sweat.

"Shit, it all looks good," Daniel muttered as he pored over his own.

"Mmhm."

Panicked, he landed on another option and when the waiter returned with their glasses of wine, a warm bowl of bread, and to take their order, he went first.

"I'll have the minestrone," he said.

"And for your entree, sir?"

Oh!

Armand glanced back down at the menu again. Had the soups always been considered an appetizer? He wasn't sure, he'd so rarely been the one to order for himself.

"Let's see. I'm sorry…"

"No need to apologize, sir."

"Is there a dinner option for the soup?" Daniel interjected, helpfully. "Can he have that?"

"I can make accommodations. Of course."

Armand's face was feeling hot and he hadn't even had a sip of the wine. His eyes dropped to the table as he folded his menu back up, the fumble deafening him against hearing Daniel's order. He reached for the wine glass and held it, occupying his hands and waiting for the menus to be taken and for them to be left blessedly alone again.

"One good thing about places like this is the assumptions they make about you if you can get yourself on the reservation list. Could probably ask the waiter to balance the plates on his head and do the Trepak when he brings them out and he'd make an effort."

Armand mustered the will to lift his eyes from the table again. "You don't strike me as the type to throw your own fame around for sport."

"I'm not," Daniel agreed, taking up his wine and holding it out.

Armand was reminded of how strange he must look, cupping his glass between his hands. He dropped one down into his lap and met Daniel's glass with his own, clinking them together musically.

"Only one hand for wine, then?" Daniel teased.

Ah, he's noticed.

"It's been so long since I've held one. I never drank much, so the habit's not quite as ingrained in me." He could see Daniel struggling a bit with his meaning there, so he moved quickly past it, taking a sip and placing the glass back on the table before continuing on. "A table setting such as this lends itself to remembering the rules."

"Do the rules matter?" Daniel asked.

Armand shook his head. "Not anymore, I suppose. Except I wouldn't say that it's for a lack of people to impress in this moment. But I sense your priorities lie elsewhere."

"I wouldn't be able to say whether or not you were holding your glass properly if there was a bomb strapped to a basket of kittens."

"What adorable pictures you paint with your words, Mr. Molloy."

Daniel went in for a quick second sip from his wine, his cheeks cresting, eyes crinkling. "There's that mister again…"

Armand liked that his own words could wield such power.

"So what about the popcorn thing?"

And, naturally, Daniel had recovered quick enough to turn the heat back on him. Armand took it in stride, laughing a little and smoothing his napkin over his lap below the table. "Well, to my knowledge, there have never been any written tenets for the eating of popcorn. Who's to say my method is incorrect?"

"Touche."

Daniel started in on the bread that had been left at their table, as Armand had predicted he might. Not that he minded. He had always been made to wait until the first course began, so it felt somewhat liberating to join in early.

He timed his next question to fall over one of Daniel’s comically large mouthfuls of bread, to give him some grace in responding. “How is writing going?”

“Mmmff.” Daniel nodded, eyes widening. “It’s, uh, been going this week. Finally.”

“Would it be unreasonable for me to ask where we might find Antonio and Christian on page one?”

“Only because I haven’t written page one.” Daniel shrugged. “I’ve been skipping around to different beats I think I want to hit in the story.”

“You outline before you write, then?”

“I guess? Honestly, I have no idea what my process was for writing the first book. I was high most of the time, and the parts I do remember writing seemed to just fall out of my head.”

“You had been writing articles before then,” Armand recalled.

“Yeah. I did kind of outline those, I guess. I took a lot of notes when I did interviews and research and I kind of had a system where I’d star what seemed important and then lay the pages out on the floor and kind of shuffle them around each other until the structure came together.”

“Did you have to cut them up at times? To separate ideas?”

“Yeah, it was a mess.”

“Sounds quite exciting, actually,” Armand told him. “I imagine the moment when you recognize the story within the chaos must be thrilling.”

“Most fun you can have without taking your clothes off,” Daniel agreed.

And just like that, Armand unlocked a topic he had been tiptoeing around from fear of finding out that Daniel wasn’t willing to discuss a work in progress. He learned that Antonio would finally bestow the gift of immortality on Christian. It was one of several obvious potential paths for them, but Armand still nearly wiggled in his chair at the words. Daniel seemed to find his enthusiasm charming, at least, and doled out a few more breadcrumbs in response — Christian was going to become a more active character — it would be his turn to pursue Antonio in this stage of their story.

“Looking back at the first book, now,” Daniel gestured in the air with a bit of half-eaten bread. “It’s almost like Antonio is happening to Christian.”

“Well, he does hold all the cards in the relationship,” Armand reasoned.

“In a way, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Christian can’t have any effect on him. And being a 600 year old vampire… there are disadvantages to that life too, right?”

Of course there must be many, Armand thought. It would certainly be interesting to see the tables turned there, to have Christian’s sympathy for Antonio explored more thoroughly than its occasional mentions in the first book. Before he could ask more, they were interrupted by the arrival of their meals. Armand's in a massive bowl he suspected was usually used for dinner salads, and Daniel's on a plate.

"Remind me what you ordered?" Armand asked once they were left alone again.

"I got the baked ziti. Had an Italian neighbor who used to bring it over all the time growing up. Probably the reason I was such a chubby little kid."

Armand brought his spoon away from him, up the far side of the bowl and gave it a tap before bringing it to his lips and sipping it off the side of the spoon. "I'll bet you were very cute."

"Yeah." Daniel violently forked through three noodles and let the hot mozzarella stretch out from fork to plate as he brought the bite to his mouth. He pulled the noodles off the tines and let the cheese stretch and stretch until it was no more than a thread. He wrapped the fork up in it like a spider's lunch until it snapped at last and hit his chin. "And plump," he finished through the mouthful.

Daniel managed to tuck away a significant portion of his plate while simultaneously regaling Armand with stories from his childhood. Having the training wheels taken off his bike before he was ready, sneaking into the child-locked cabinet with a butter knife to spring them free and put them on again, himself. The way his dad told that story at every family function, making him sound soft, embarrassing him. Armand felt a plummeting pity for plump little six year old Daniel Molloy despite the fact that Daniel, the man in front of him, seemed not to feel any for himself over the ordeal.

Armand let him fill the air with his stories, taking the space that was left for him to keep up with Daniel's voracious eating. Had Armand had to speak at all, he'd have fallen far behind and his minestrone would have gone cold.

The bit of cheese that had snapped and was left clinging to Daniel's chin was beginning to curl up, now, like a comically thick and white beard hair. Armand had done his best to ignore it as they ate, knowing better than to point out something so embarrassing when one-on-one with no other important men around to impress. His charm was dialed all the way up tonight, after all. It had to be. It was so very important to him that he impress Daniel with it, and though he didn't at all take him for the type to let his ego be bruised over something as innocuous as being made aware of a bit of food on his chin, he knew that some men would not be so forgiving.

"You've a little something…"

Daniel feigned ignorance, jutting his chin out. "What? Where?"

"On your chin," Armand answered, unsure how to keep the gag going. "You should be careful of your shirt."

"I chose white thinking I'd be safe as long as I steered clear of longer noodles," Daniel explained, dabbing at his chin with the linen napkin from his lap. "That's a lie, actually. I chose white because all my other shirts had holes or words on them."

"Ah, yes. Well, there's no enforced dress code as such, but I have my suspicions we may have run into a spot of trouble were you to wear one of your ruder t-shirts."

Daniel stopped short before his next bite and set his fork down. "You think my shirts are rude?"

Armand took a moment to puzzle out that Daniel wasn't offended or angry, but rather amused. Relieved, he went on to explain himself.

"Well, not all of them, of course. But there is the one with the graphic image of a lady's breasts superimposed over your own chest…"

Daniel's eyes darted off to a far corner of the room, an affronted and confused expression contorting his face. "I don't… believe I've ever worn that one outside of the apartment…"

Had he not?

Damn.

Armand thought quick, buying himself time with another spoonful of the soup and a sip of wine. "Is that right? Hmm."

Again Daniel's eyes were on him, surveying him…

"Ah!" Armand exclaimed. "Yes, that's correct. I saw it that first afternoon I stopped by to check you were settling into the apartment."

Again, Daniel's face pinched, his eyes pinging around the dining room as if that wasn't quite adding up for him.

Armand could feel the panic rising in his chest. His spoon clattered against the edge of his bowl and he dropped it from his fingers, lifting his napkin to politely pat at his mouth before scooting his chair back. "Apologies," he said abruptly. "Please excuse me."

 

---

 

Armand had excused himself so abruptly that Daniel worried he'd perhaps had to pee for quite a bit longer. He'd finished his first glass of water before the food even arrived, after all, and there were only a few more sips left in their wine glasses.

But then, this was the same guy who'd saddled on up to the urinal right next to him and whipped it out without shame or fear, so really, Daniel didn't know what to make of it.

Maybe the minestrone didn't agree with him…

And what of the comment about the shirt? Was it possible that Daniel could have been mistaken? Maybe he'd run down to check the mail wearing the thing and it'd slipped his mind… He didn't think that was the case, having reasonably deemed it to be a little too tasteless for the public even by his standards, but wasn't it possible?

I mean, I haven't questioned my memory like that since…

And he wasn't using…

Whatever. The night was going well and Armand had made it pretty explicit where things were headed. Daniel polished off his wine and gave a nod when asked if they were finished with their plates. He accepted the dessert menu and when Armand arrived back, he slid it his way.

"Anything calling your name? I thought the almond cake and cordial sounded good, but I don't know if we want to float something like that on top of the wine." A statement made mostly for Armand's benefit. He'd gone dewy faced about halfway through his glass and it was clear he was feeling it.

Not that I'd mind him getting a little tipsier…

And not for nefarious purposes, of course. Daniel felt certain Armand had come up to the lobby with his mind already made up. For him to have made so bold a statement in the car, there was no other conclusion to be drawn. And Daniel was a little more prepared this time. His bedside table was stocked and ready, but his real hope was for Armand to invite him to his own apartment. To finally let him in. Maybe that would be the final wall to knock down before Armand felt comfortable enough to get into his history a bit.

Daniel had begun to spin a bit of a theory over the course of dinner. Armand's familiarity with the upscale restaurant, his Emily Post prescribed manner of eating an how it contrasted so starkly with the way he'd had that donut… the popcorn… And yet the double-handed clutch on anything he drank persisted. Like his table etiquette was a sleeper cell within him, awoken only by the atmosphere.

"Dessert?" Armand asked, easing back into his seat. He lifted the dregs of his own wine to his lips and Daniel watched the dark liquid slide past them, staining them just slightly as they pulled into a devilish smirk. "I was actually hoping to get out of here."

Daniel's lungs compressed, his grounded awareness of his own body narrowing down to a fine point between his legs for a few seconds in which he found himself incapable of speech.

"But if your heart is really set on it-"

"Nope. No. Not much of a sweets guy, really, just thought you might like it."

Without realizing it, Daniel had thrust his hand up into the air to hail the waiter back to the table.

 

---

 

So it was happening. He laid his card down, wiped the sweat from his palms, signed the slip and nearly forgot to add a tip he was so keyed up, and all the while Armand wore that smirk. Daniel couldn't wait to kiss it right off of him.

His fingers vibrated on the way out to the sidewalk as he tried to disentangle his brewing theories about the man from the baser ones now infiltrating his mind. A waifish upbringing until the age of fifteen, and then a life-changing single-parent adoption. Clearly, the adoptive father had money. But why not a younger child? Why not an age at which a closer bond would be more easily formed? Well, Daniel could think of a reason. Perhaps the man had run a business. Perhaps he'd never married, or prior marriages had never produced children. Perhaps he'd been in need of an heir. There was something about wealthy men, family names, inheritances… A world beyond Daniel, but one he'd observed plenty in his days writing up portraits of the San Casaval donor class. Maybe there had been a disagreement or a rift before the guy died. An intruding, villainous stepmother? Could be. Or something else. If Armand had surreptitiously been left out of inheriting all of the money…

Or maybe…

Daniel could've laughed out loud at the way it was hitting him like a brick to the forehead. Armand always spoke about expenses for the building like they came out of his own secondhand pocket. Just that evening, talking about the rats —‘I spend a fortune each year.’ Had Daniel ever heard him use the word ‘we’ when talking about bills, or even rent? And the building was a Rybar's cube of strange design choices, modernity butting up against crumbling antiquity. Perhaps the building had been Daddy Warbanks'. Perhaps the forged blood had soured and that was why Armand was so reluctant to speak on the man. Maybe he'd sought to wallpaper over the memories, the betrayal.

Or, perhaps, The Palazzo was revenge. A vanity project that sunk the meager crumbs he'd been left along with it back into the project, like a cyclical fountain. Only nothing was liquid.

All that training and preparation and maybe the boy just had no acumen for it.

Daniel could see that being the case. Armand's habit of leniency with his tenants, the way he prioritized harboring a community over rent-collecting… He wasn't the least bit miserly, despite all his eccentricities. If Daniel was on the right track, that was. And he thought he was. In fact, he thought that if the night was about to take them back to The Palazzo, if they were about to get as intimate as Daniel anticipated they were, bed might be the prime location to finally ask if Armand owned the building.

If he could impress on Armand that it didn't matter to him, that he hadn't felt in any way betrayed by the smokescreen, perhaps that would put the guy at ease and he'd drop the facade.

They waited for his beat-up car to approach and once they were safely inside, Armand turned to him in his seat.

"Do you know where Renaud's Kittycat Theater is located?"

Daniel had hardly pulled out onto the street. "What?"

"We'll need to get turned around."

"I thought…" Shit, what if he'd thought wrong? If that were the case, he'd better not cop to it now. "I thought we were just going back to The Palazzo…"

"So soon?" Armand asked. "I was having a nice night, didn't want it to end."

Daniel pulled into the first alley he could that would allow him to turn back the other direction. He focused on the narrow space ahead, not wanting to run over any of those famously large New Graven rats. "Where did you want to go?"

"Renaud's. It's an adult theater. That'll be the only place playing something I haven't already seen at this hour."

Daniel's foot eased off the gas and they idled slowly down the alley while his head did its best not to combust.

"You want me to take you to see a porno…" Not a question so much as an attempt to make the fact of the matter more solid for Daniel to better wrap his mind around.

"That's correct. They have the large neon sign shaped like a keyhole by the marquee."

Daniel was sure he'd seen the place once or twice driving by when he was still scouting apartments. But never mind that. Armand wanted to see a dirty movie… with him.

On the second date…

They hadn't even kissed.

"Taking this up to Martin Street, yeah?" Daniel asked vacantly after turning back onto the proper road. "Then it's a left?"

"Yes," Armand confirmed. The seduction seemed to have gone out of him and Daniel wondered if maybe this decision had been as out of the blue for him as well.

"You're sure you want to do this?" he heard himself ask. "I mean, we can just go home. Somewhere private."

"Let's make the most of our night."

Alright.

Daniel blinked his eyes several times before realizing it was the cascade of rain hindering his ability to see. He turned the windshield wipers back on and the awkward, intermittent squeaking filled up the space in the car, underscoring their silence. Somewhere in the realm of four minutes later, they pulled into the darkest parking lot Daniel had ventured into since his days scouting for a fix. Since his days pulling into parking lots just like this one for a safe, air-conditioned place to nod out where Alice wouldn't find him. Waking up with the cooling drool of a stranger on his crotch, a number written on his palm in oily blue ballpoint.

"Ah, good. It's Harry on duty," Armand said as he reached for the handle to let himself out. "We like Harry."

Daniel stepped out on his side, shoving his keys into his pocket and looking in the direction of the marquee where a man stood under blinking neon light behind bullet-proof glass. He followed Armand, catching up to get under his umbrella and managing to put his entire right foot, up to the cuff of his jeans, into a pothole full of muddy rainwater.

"Shit!"

Armand stopped and turned, waiting for him to catch up. "Oh, don't distress. Wet socks abound here."

"I'm sure," Daniel replied, perhaps a little acerbically.

He limp-squelched his way back to Armand's side and they continued on to the box office window where Harry, a large middle aged bearded man who might have you puzzling after whether Harry was on his birth certificate or if it'd simply been a descriptor-turned-nickname that'd stuck, was standing in wait.

"Good evening, Armand."

Daniel's jaw dropped.

Not even a fake name?

"Good evening, Harry."

"You brought a friend."

Armand turned his way, smiling as he shook off his umbrella at their feet. "Yes. This is Daniel."

Oh, come on…

"What're you seeing?"

At least it was straight to business, Daniel thought. At least they weren't exchanging fucking business cards.

"There are two titles showing I haven't seen yet," Armand answered. "Do you have a recommendation?"

Harry sized Daniel up. "Depends."

"Oh. Daniel likes men and women, so that isn't necessarily a deciding factor."

Daniel would have liked to shrink down to the size of a grape if he could. He gave the guy an awkward grin before shuffling behind Armand a little.

"Ravaging Rhoda's about pirates," Harry said with a shrug. "Pretty good. Lots of rope."

Armand looked back over his shoulder at him, beaming. "Rope, Daniel…"

Bewildered, Daniel nodded. The reminder that Armand had seen him tied to his own bed and left stranded, cock out and everything, sent a humiliated little shiver down his spine.

"We'll take two tickets, please."

The inside of the joint wasn't too different from the sordid interiors of the adult theaters back home. Stained burgundy carpet in the lobby, black walls, sparse warm lights. It reeked of stale tobacco carpet shake. There was a security guard sat slumped in a chair, arms crossed over his belly and chin on his chest, snoring. The ticket taker was a woman. An attractive woman in her forties, maybe, with a rack of cigarettes for sale behind her and one hanging from between her lips. In another timeline, Daniel could see himself chatting her up, making lofty promises to rescue her away from this place. Promises he used to make when he was high, then have to apologize for when he wasn't.

"That was Candy," Armand whispered as they strode through the black curtain behind her and veered right for their theater.

"I'm sure," Daniel answered, making Armand laugh.

"Candy to me. Candy to us. What does it matter whether a name is chosen or bestowed?"

Were they really about to get into the philosophy of names while marching up the aisle to view a porno together? The man was filled with endless surprises. But Daniel felt a little too out of step to carry it further.

The canned moans playing over the speakers as cut-together clips from various tawdry films were cast over the screen, drowned out the squelching of Daniel's wet sock in his shoe and momentarily distracted him from his discomfort. He stopped at the end of the aisle, the reflected light from the silver screen shining on the sundry faces that were spread out in the theater which had to have boasted no more than fifty seats.

He counted seven faces. Two men sitting on the lefthand side of the first row, one on the right, with two more spaced out respectably behind them. Another on the right in the third row, one man in the center of the back. There was really only one option for where they'd be sitting, but Daniel felt immobile, suddenly. The prospect of walking out in front of the screen, up the steps of the center aisle, sober as sunshine…

Then Armand took his hand and he was pulled along, into the projector's light and up the carpeted steps. He inadvertently met the eyes of one of their spectator peers along the way, caught a peek of the man's tongue darting out the side of his mouth to clear away the crumbs of whatever he was eating. Something brought from home by the look of it, wrapped in foil and held in his lap.

Armand lead them to the two obvious seats, as far as possible from the other movie-goers. And thank god for that natural instinct. Daniel hadn't been sure he could count on Armand to possess it. The chairs were not bolstered to the floor. They were rudimentary, upholstered in red pleather and without armrests. Daniel could imagine why that was. Easier to replace, easier to wipe off, no hindering barrier on either side of you in the off chance that you came accompanied and needed to, perhaps, reach into your neighbor's lap.

Or lean over it…

Another prospective thrill down the spine. Daniel turned to look at Armand's glowing face, his soggy foot connecting him to the black-painted wood of the riser beneath him, the tangible proof that he was here and that this was happening.

"I don't think anyone here would mind if you took your shoe off to let it dry out," Armand said, his voice not quite a whisper, but low.

"Yeah… alright…" As if commanded, Daniel had propped his ankle on his knee and was undoing his shoelaces. He slipped the thing off and bent over the floor to inspect that he wouldn't be placing his wet, socked foot into any suspicious puddles, and then he planted it, tucking the shoe below his chair.

"The sock might dry quicker if you removed it, as well, but I wouldn't blame you if you did not want to keep at least some barrier between yourself and the floor."

Well now what was Daniel to do? Would Armand judge him for either move? He sat stunned in limbo as the preview on the screen ended and the opening credits for Ravaging Rhoda began. A sunkissed and busty brunette dressed in billowing white, corseted in brown leather with coins affixed to a scarf tied over her hair and another around her waist. Her bare feet gripped the large rock she sat atop, cresting out of ocean waves.

"I was 18 the year I met him. The pirate Longcannon…"

Yeah, of course she was 18, Daniel thought. Freshly 18.

He leaned towards Armand. "That woman is at least thirty."

Armand shot him an amused look, his eye twinkling, but he did speak. He returned his attention to the screen.

The voiceover continued, introducing Rhoda, the film's heroine, and her lovely sisters.

"So, Rhoda's a brunette, Gilda's a blonde, and Roxy's a redhead? I'd have liked to be a fly on the wall in those delivery rooms."

Armand giggled at his commentary, but still, he gave no reply.

There was actually a fair amount of plot. Gilda was being forced to marry a man she did not like, Roxy was the town scandal, and bookish Rhoda spent all day reading swashbucklers and daydreaming. The Dread Pirate Longcannon and his band of mercenaries arrive onshore and at first, Roxy falls in with them, but when Rhoda realizes they're real pirates, she hatches a plan to make it look as though Gilda were kidnapped. Some treachery lead to the trio of sisters being nabbed together, however and the first true sex scene clocked in around the twenty minute mark. By which point, Daniel had practically forgotten they were here to see a skinflick.

It was Armand who leaned his way, now.

"I knew the masked man claiming to be Pirate Longcannon was a red herring. The credits gave it away, but I didn't want to spoil it for you."

Rhoda's stays were unceremoniously ripped open at the chest, leaving her heaving breasts to spill out on the screen and pull Daniel's attention. "That right?"

"The man looked nothing like Buckley Burns."

Daniel blinked his way. "I take it you're a fan?"

"Just familiar. He's not bad. Though, Longcannon is a bit of a stretch."

Daniel could see what Armand meant. Not that the man's appendage was anything to sneeze at, just that Daniel would describe the thing as thick, if a bit stumpy. It jutted out of the pirate's leathers as he twined meter after meter of rope around the prone body of Rhoda, between her breasts, over them, making a harness with which he tugged her about before bending her over a barrel labeled "rum."

A small gasp escaped Armand as her belly hit the wood and Daniel felt his own breath stop.

Was it the rough treatment? Was it the rope? Daniel recalled the way Armand had commented on Raven's work. 'I'm glad you knew better than to struggle…'

Maybe rope did it for him. Maybe Daniel had misread his enthusiasm outside the theater and it hadn't been a jab in his direction at all…

He took Armand in out of the corner of his eye, his hands folded in his lap, one leg crossed over the other. He was breathing shallow, each breath a little choppy, and his lips were parted.

Rhoda cried out on the screen as she was penetrated and fucked over the barrel and Daniel had to force his eyes to tear themselves away from Armand.

He wasn't sure what to do with his own hands. He needed to adjust the crotch of his pants, to make a little room, but the prospect of Armand seeing him reach for his groin was mortifying. His poor, bunched up dick filling out, pressing against his balls, making them ache. His awareness of it making the problem worse, making him throb.

Would Armand be hard, too…?

Again, he gave in, diverting away from the sex on the screen to glance at Armand's tensing thighs, fingers laced but gripping as if in desperate prayer. The color in his cheeks, the way his lids looked heavy…

Yeah… he's turned on…

Emboldened, Daniel leaned over so their shoulders bumped and Armand inclined his ear closer for him to whisper into.

"Do you usually…?"

"Ah-" Armand kept his eyes locked to the screen as he replied. "No. That would most certainly be perceived as an invitation here…"

The word invitation struck Daniel. Wasn't that sort of what he was looking for here? Did that make him any better than these presumably lecherous old men?

Well, the difference, of course, was that Daniel had been invited here. Daniel had been dragged up to these seats by his hand. His itching, eager hand…

"Do they… bother you, sometimes?"

Daniel's own experiences lead him to believe that there was no way they hadn't. At least on occasion. Besides, Armand was stunning. And, if Daniel was any metric to measure by, his appeal transcended sexual binaries.

"Oh, yes, but they're rather easy to rebuff. Nobody wants to have a fuss raised, so a polite decline is generally all that's needed."

He didn't know why he did it, but Daniel found himself slowly turning his head to glance back over his shoulder at the man in the row behind them. Perhaps he'd felt a sense of security that the action on the screen was enough to hold his attention and keep him from noticing, but the moment his eyes landed on the man, they were acknowledging each other.

Daniel's heart skipped a beat and he quickly turned back to Armand's ear. "Everyone else came here alone."

"Yes. We're certainly an outlier. That will draw attention."

"Shit…"

Armand laughed slightly. At last he turned his eyes on Daniel. "Yes, they'll be watching you, of course. Watching us. They expect a show within a show. Men can be so greedy."

So was that it, then? Were they supposed to put on a show? Again, Daniel considered that they hadn't even kissed.

But they were both turned on, weren't they? Daniel had been in these situations before, even if the circumstances had been quite a bit sleazier. And did Armand want sleaze here? Would a little sleaze taint what Daniel felt building between them?

If he were going to be bold enough to make a move, he knew he'd need some clarification first. And some courage. Pirate Longcannon was shooting his own ropes up the back of Rhoda's thighs and Daniel considered that there would be many more sex scenes to come. He had plenty of time to muster some up.

A man in the row in front of them audibly took his zipper down at the start of the next graphic scene, a threesome with two pirates and Roxy the redhead. Armand hadn't seemed to notice the man's indiscretion, or at least he was choosing not to acknowledge it and it was clear to Daniel that Armand was particularly excited for this scene.

One ruffian had Roxy by the throat as she wantonly kissed him, the one behind her violently rucking up her skirts. Of course, Roxy's thinly fleshed-out character demanded that she enjoy all of this, which softened the scene for Daniel.

Armand, however, was panting for it.

Perhaps now was the time, then. Daniel flexed his fingers over his knees before leaning over again. Armand leaned, as well, though his eyes never left the screen, the lust clouding them never clearing.

"Yes, Daniel?" he pre-emptively whispered.

Daniel needed a moment for the chills to subside before he could speak again. Once he was able, he asked, "Is it the red hair, the configuration of the three of them, or is it…"

He saw Armand falter a little, his lashes flutter, his brow knitting. He leaned in closer, dropping his whisper down so low that it'd be impossible for anyone to hear over the grunts and moans coming from the speakers.

"What part's getting you so hot?"

The heat trapped by Armand's curls wafted off of him, warming the tip of Daniel's nose as he leaned in closer to his whispering lips, not answering, perhaps wanting more

Well… Daniel could certainly talk.

"Or is it the rough stuff that gets you going…?"

Armand's eyes closed, like he couldn't help it, like a surge of pleasure had just taken him over…

Like he could feel Daniel's words in his dick…

Shit…

All of the self-assuredness Daniel needed was making itself available to him now. He could tap into it, see where this took him. He dared to move in closer, lips almost brushing the shell of Armand's ear, the peppermint smell of his older gentleman's cologne spicing the air between them, and again, he whispered.

"Take that as a yes. She's certainly wet for it…"

Armand bit his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes opening again to focus back on the scene, the actress who played Roxy's loud wails suddenly coming to a muffled halt as one of the men's cocks was shoved into her mouth while the other buried his face in her ass, fingers slamming into her and making the filthiest sound Daniel'd ever heard in the presence of such a crowd.

Armand's lips parted a little more and Daniel glanced down as he uncrossed his legs, crossing them again the other way, his hands landing on his thighs, now, pressing hard into them.

Roxy's head was pulled back roughly by a fistful of her bright red hair just as the one behind her replaced his fingers with his cock, a thumb pressed against her tight, pink asshole.

Absolute filth…

"You gonna want me to pull your hair like that?" Daniel ventured. Bold, but the response he'd gotten so far warranted a bit of an increase in temperature, he thought.

Armand whimpered, and thankfully the moaning had swelled just at that moment, enough to swallow it up. He nodded his head and Daniel took it as a green light. He pressed in, letting the tip of his nose touch against Armand's curls and put a hand over his on his trembling thigh.

"Do you want me to?" he asked. "Not bad with my hands, excellent with my mouth…"

Armand sat frozen, not even breathing.

Daniel chalked it up to anticipation. He landed a gentle kiss on on the shell of Armand's ear and bent his fingers around Armand's, prepared to lift his hand away from his lap and make room for himself, to part his legs if he needed, but Armand's fingers curled in with a quickness. Snatched hold of Daniel's like a sprung trap. He gripped Daniel hard and turned to face him with wide, shocked eyes.

"Not here."

Daniel found himself shocked frozen in turn. He tried to soften his expression to one of understanding.

"Alright," he said.

Armand loosened his grip, knocking Daniel's hand away and smoothing the fabric over his thigh. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay… Not here."

It was honestly a bit of a relief. Daniel could imagine that a public venue, a lurid pornographic theater no less, being the backdrop for the first sexual contact between them might lead to some regret.

Maybe Armand had been testing the water a bit bringing him here, seeing if Daniel could hang. Well, he was hanging. He was shocked silly at the revelation that Armand was such a kinkster, but he was strapped in for the ride. These weren't any dark corridors he hadn't traversed on his own before. It was just a little difficult to parse the grit of it with the ethereal beauty of the man sitting next to him.

For instance… was he really going to be expected to cash that hair-pulling check?

The roadblock seemed to have cooled the both of them down considerably. Armand still writhed in his seat, Daniel found the gumption to jostle his junk into a more comfortable configuration, and the movie played on. The man in the row in front of them concluded his own experience of the film a little early, left the theater, and Daniel heard two more zippers between the following sex scenes. The plot, despite its simplicity, had gotten a little hard for Daniel to follow. Keeping his mind from wandering to what would surely come after the credits and the short drive home was proving impossible and he wondered if it was the same for Armand.

It was hard to tell.

The runtime was a brisk hour and twenty. The back forty minutes were the most Daniel had ever felt a pornographic film drag in all his life.

One gang-bang, a lesbian scene between two of the sisters, and anal creampie to finish. Then credits.

There was a silver-dollar sized wet spot soaked into Daniel's upper thigh where his cock had endured it all, and he sat, waiting for the lights to rise, then he remembered they didn't do that for these sorts of films.

"Your shoe, Daniel…"

That was right.

"Almost forgot."

He slid his foot back into it, bent over to lace it up again while Armand gathered himself beside him and stood waiting as four of the other men filed out with their shoulders up and their heads down. When Daniel was able to stand, he observed that two were choosing to stay behind.

Good for them.

"You're ready?" Armand asked, his eyes dropping when he spoke.

He seemed resigned to leaving and Daniel wondered if it was just latent nerves. It was easier to be bold when all the blood fueling your brain to second guess itself was pooling between your legs. With the credits rolling up the side of his face, now, Armand looked more reserved than anything.

Daniel realized he was the one blocking the aisle, so he turned and made his way to the steps, jogging down them and stopping around the corner to wait for Armand to catch up. When he did, Daniel could've sworn he saw a switch flip. Granted, the light from the projector was cast over him, but when he lifted his head, Daniel was certain he'd seen a look of far-away vacancy before Armand quickly pulled on a smile, like he'd inhaled the life back into himself in one breath.

"All good?" Daniel asked, reaching his hand out for him to take.

"Hah, yes. All good."

They walked hand-in-hand until they reached the door of the theater and Daniel let go to push it open, to move out into the lobby where eyes might pry. And Daniel was back in his head again, forecasting how the rest of the night would go.

Armand deployed his umbrella at the entryway to the theater and a moment later they were under it, walking together towards Daniel's car. He let Armand in first, then jogged around to his side in the rain.

"Did you enjoy the film, Daniel?" Armand asked, once he was behind the wheel with the keys on the precipice of turning.

"Uh… yeah. Sure. I mean… It might've done the trick. Maybe even more than once."

"Scarlet Sinclair's debut, it seems."

"Take it that was the redhead?" Daniel brought them back out onto the street. There was hardly anyone out. It was nearly midnight.

"I didn't recognize her from anything."

"That gangbang certainly felt… ambitious for a first timer."

"New-cummer, I believe, is what they're called in the industry."

Daniel glanced over at him as they came to a light, red for the solitary other car out on the road making a lefthand turn at the cross. Armand's eyes were darting around the dark buildings surrounding them, refusing to meet his. Daniel had to wonder what had happened between dirty-talking in the guy's ear, being told to heel until they got back to The Palazzo, and now… when the prospect of getting back to The Palazzo was looming larger than ever.

"How about you?" Daniel asked. "Did you like it?"

"I enjoyed the story quite a bit, some of the intimate scenes were nice, but the performances left much to be desired."

The performances…

"Pretty sure the performances play second fiddle to the fucking in the hierarchy of what people prioritize in their porn."

"Most people, perhaps…"

Daniel took them through the intersection, climbing them into the proper gear, and then taking his hand of the shifter to slip it into Armand's where it rested in his lap. "This alright?"

At last, Armand gave him a smile. "This is fine." He played, idly, with Daniel's fingers until the next time Daniel had to shift. His hands came together and he clamped them between his knees.

Huh…

Daniel was at a loss.

"So, when you go see these movies by yourself, do you just… come home after and-"

"Touch myself?" Armand finished for him. "Oftentimes, yes."

There we go… That's what I wanna hear…

The admission woke Daniel back up between his legs and spurred him on. "You just replay the scenes in your head, or-"

"Yes. That's how people do it, right?"

"I suppose that's how the ones who don't whip it out in the theater do it. Or they might go pick up a magazine somewhere, I suppose."

"Is that what you'd like to do now, Daniel? Pick up a magazine?"

Daniel couldn't help the nervous laugh. "No. I want to get you home. What would I want with a magazine when I've got you occupying my mind…"

Armand hummed. "That's sweet of you."

Offering up his masturbation habits in one breath and coyly calling him sweet in another… Daniel wasn't sure what to make of that. It hit him, then, that Armand might not be all that experienced, after all. It might account for the way he was headstrongly walking up to the line and then not bothering to cross it.

He pulled them into the garage and parked, shutting off the engine, taking the keys out, and turning towards Armand in the dim light.

"Yes?" Armand asked, visibly nervous.

"I feel like I should ask you something, but I've never really asked anyone this question before so it feels sort of awkward."

"You can ask it."

Could he, though? He licked his lips and shuffled his body so that he was sitting sideways in the driver's seat, one leg pulled up under him a little. As if in answer, Armand attempted to do the same, though with much more grace.

"Is this all too much for you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, like… going to the theater together, getting worked up…"

"It had been my suggestion."

Yes. That was the point Daniel was trying to make. "I guess I'm just confused. You seem to have cooled off. By a lot."

"Well, we were driving, and I didn't want to distract you, Daniel."

"Well, now we've parked."

Armand nodded. "Yes," he agreed, like it'd been a statement that implied nothing more than what it plainly stated.

"There's no one around."

"I suspect not."

Maybe it was just the nerves. Armand was allowed to let them show if he had them, he was allowed to led the seductive facade drop, if that's what he'd been employing at the theater. Maybe now he required a different approach.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Oh…"

Oh? What does he mean 'oh?'

"Shouldn't we… It's dark and chilly out here, Daniel."

"So this is too much…"

"It's just enough," Armand said defensively. "It's nice. I'm enjoying-"

"So come up to the apartment." Daniel leaned forward, daring to push his fingers into the hair behind Armand's ear, curve them around the back of his head and hold him there. "I can't promise ropes and hair pulling the first time, but I'll fuck you hard if that's what you want. Or I'll go at whatever pace it is you-"

Armand tugged back, out of his grasp, leading his hair to actually snag a little in Daniel's fingers, which he felt immediately sorry for. Perhaps proof he wasn't all that cut out for the rough stuff, but he could learn!

"I'm not used to initiating these things, Daniel," Armand said softly, almost ashamed.

"That's alright, that's why I'm trying to take the lead here."

"No, I mean…"

Daniel pulled his hand back into his lap with a sigh. One he couldn't control and that he hoped Armand didn't take much offense to. "You have… done this, right? I mean… had sex?"

Armand scoffed so fast that Daniel felt instantly sheepish for asking, but that quickly turned to defensiveness when Armand's silence was sustained.

"I'm sorry. Was that a stupid question?"

"Unbelievably ignorant, I'd say."

"You're thirty five years old, Armand. You flirt with me, you agree to go on two dates with me, and maybe it's a little outside of what some people would say is ethical considering you collect my rent checks, but whose ethical failing is that? Not mine."

"I fail to see what any of that-"

And it was so much worse if it turned out to be true that he owned the building, wasn't it? Daniel was reminded of that little theory and he felt himself grow a little more incensed at the incredulity of it all.

"You suggested the theater and you were the one at the top of the date saying we should hold onto a couple of smokes for after sex, I don't know what you want me to do here. You might not be used to initiating, but I'm not used to taking the consent of someone who refuses even to let me kiss them for granted."

Shocked, Armand's mouth hung open. "I've granted nothing, Daniel."

He turned to open the passenger door, climbing out and slamming it closed behind him so that Daniel had to clammer after him, slamming his own and jogging to catch up with Armand's long-legged stride.

"Hey! Wait! I don't want to… I'm not…"

He could see Armand shaking his head as he began his descent down the stairs that would take them back to the street.

"Please, Daniel, just-"

Finally, Daniel caught up at the street level and was able to wheel around the man, putting himself between him and the steps up to the entryway to the building. A threshold they simply could not cross and continue this conversation. He bent over his knees, panting to catch his breath.

"Please wait," he managed. "Please let me apologize."

"It's not a matter of apologizing, my frustrations aren't with you, alone."

"Still…" He righted himself, clutching a hand to the stitch in his side. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get pushy. I just… you were really putting on the green light there for a while."

"Perhaps you should ask me out on a third date."

"I mean, I really thought- What?"

"I don't require an apology. I'm willing to try again, if you are. I like you, Daniel."

He felt like his head was spinning on his shoulders. "I like you, too…"

"I suppose it's just one more of my off-putting eccentricities that I can be so mercurial. I hope you can look past it."

"Just like that?"

"In time, my anger will subside."

So he was angry…

"You wouldn't rather make up upstairs, where it's more private?"

Armand scoffed again. "I was trying to extend an olive branch, but it's clear you're in no state to compromise or focus your attention anywhere other than on sex. We'll speak tomorrow when we've both cooled off. I trust you can manage one of your nightly wanks all on your own. I bid you goodnight, Daniel."

He sidestepped him, leaving him reeling as he walked around the steps, disappearing on the other side of the building where Daniel imagined he must have a secondary entrance to his basement apartment.

One of my 'nightly wanks?'

Daniel replayed the night in his head, trying to pinpoint just where he'd gotten confused, but none of it was adding up. Maybe he was finally getting a sense of whatever it was that had Louis so wary of the guy.

No, that wasn't fair. Daniel did like him. He liked him a lot. And this second date had started off alright, that was two mostly good dates. So what had soured this one at the final inning?

He reached for his pack of cigarettes before remembering he wasn't in possession of them any longer. Hanging his head, he climbed up the steps, waited for Eglee to buzz him in, and walked right past her, ignoring her probing as to where her boss might be, her threats if Daniel had done something awful like leaving him in a ditch. Obviously, she was joking, but it made Daniel feel even crummier.

He trudged up the stairs Louis had shoulder-checked him on the previous night and wished the hour wasn't so late. He'd have liked to pick Louis' brain about this, if he could. Hell, he'd even take Lestat at this point. Claudia, he couldn't imagine regaling with such necessary details, but maybe he'd at least have been able to bum a smoke.

He passed no one in the stairwell and let himself into his apartment before flopping dramatically onto the couch, staring up at the track lights overhead.

He thought back to his first day settling into the apartment, when Armand had stopped by. He thought about his curious innocence, how delightful and refreshing it'd felt, and how strange yet flattering his interest in Daniel had been. How he'd…

Admired his shirt…

Daniel remembered looking down at that very shirt and finding it so unremarkable, not at all worthy of admiration. And he remembered, on that shirt, was the worn and faded cartoon image of an orange cat.

"Do you believe in ghosts, Danny?"

"No," he'd said.

There was a strip between the two long tracks on which the lights were mounted, black metal bolted into the ceiling. Two separate sets. So what was that strip between them?

He squinted and saw that one side was decidedly uneven. Shooting up to his feet and squinting harder, he saw that, in fact, it was peeling away from the paint.

He didn't have a stepladder, the best he could manage was pulling a stool from the bar and grabbing a butter knife from the drawer. Balancing carefully on the stool, he took the tip of the knife and scraped over what appeared, upon closer inspection, to be a strip of electrical tape with a hole punched out of the center of it and something reflective behind it.

After a harrowing couple of close-call wobbles, he managed to get enough of the tape peeled that rising onto the balls of his feet allowed him to pinch it between his fingers and pull it free.

"Motherfucker…"

Chapter 13: Some fucking security set-up you've got here

Summary:

Daniel follows the thread

Notes:

We’re ramping up to some things that we’ve been desperate to get to. Hope you enjoy the ride! 🥰

Armand's anger and disappointment made his feet feel heavy as lead. He slipped into the alley, rounded the rusty iron railing that took him down the concrete steps to the side-entry of the basement. His fingers shook so bad that he nearly dropped his key.

Inside, he kicked out of his shoes, stripped down on his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He dared to stop in front of the mirror. Had he at least been beautiful in his rage? Would there have at least still been something there for Daniel to appreciate amidst all the ugly defensiveness? Would his little tantrum have dampened some of Daniel's desire?

Probably, probably…

He didn't know what to do with any of it. His anger and hurt, it'd whipped him up into this state. He'd had his little fit, and now what? There was no firm hand to steer him back to calm, no one to admonish, no deafening pain to drown out the cacophony of anxious and self-hating thoughts. Just himself, lonesome and loathsome, stuck in his solitary little hovel like always, tending to his garden of all the souls in the world that were known to him while he was known to none.

The water scalded and that was good. It wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of Daniel's voice, running circles in his head, however.

Over and over, he'd pressed, and Armand wanted to hate him for proving himself no different, but how could he when he'd been the one who'd panicked and guided them to the theater? If it hadn't been for his slip-up about the shirt, if he hadn't lost his cool…

And needlessly. It'd been so easy to turn Daniel's mind from the topic. He'd been rash, using the lure of sex to distract him without any sort of consideration for how to slow that momentum. Of course Daniel felt led on. Of course he'd expected some physical culmination of their evening.

And instead, Armand had lashed out at him.

He scoured his face with his fingertips, shampooed the product out of his hair, turned the water off to let himself shiver and chatter while the conditioning treatment set. Punishment, transformation, absolution on the other side of it.

Daniel, Daniel, Daniel… Will he even want to speak with me tomorrow?

The bigger question, would he even want him anymore?

Now that he'd hooked him with a false promise, how was he to know that there'd ever been any attraction beyond that? Now that the cat was out of the bag that getting him in bed wouldn't be so easy, would Daniel move on to something that was?

He has options…

Armand supposed it was out of his control, if that were the case. Daniel would go back to the dollhouse. Perhaps it was silly of him to have ever deigned to take him out of it.

This, he thought as he turned the water back on to rinse out his hair, was why he preferred to keep to the perimeters. Control what he could, give up that power where he must. Hubris had gotten him.

The shock of going from hot to cold to hot again had calmed him considerably. He still fumed at himself -at Daniel, even- but he was no longer vibrating with it. Despondently, he dried himself, still taking care to handle his curls as gently as possible. If he must face Daniel again tomorrow to have it out, he should look his best to improve his chances of remaining in the man's good graces. If Daniel would still have him, he'd need to think of a cover. Something to explain his reaction, something to win Daniel's sympathies. Something to explain the matter and invite no further questions.

Lies are not a moral failing when they protect you.

A token of wisdom he kept in his pocket like a worrystone. A soothing reminder. He was not always bad. The sin came about from how the world twisted you. If you insulated yourself from it, if you didn't let it in, if you lied sometimes… That would keep you safe.

Perhaps he was putting himself in harm's way.

In fact, he knew he was. But there was something in him, something driving itself at the backside of his ribs, like a desperate animal trying to escape. He was in a season of recklessness and it'd come on so hard and so fast he felt like he was spinning in the dark.

He pulled on the slightly worn burgundy terrycloth robe he liked best after a shower, letting it do the heavy lifting of drying his skin. He needed to do laundry, he was nearly out of clean towels. He loathed doing laundry. The clunk-clunk of the dryer fried his nerves. Not like the smooth whir of the industrial washers and dryers in the community facilities upstairs, but those were off limits to him. Always had been.

He sashed the robe, slightly too short in the sleeves, certainly too short for a man's bathrobe overall, but just roomy enough to wrap loosely around his waist, and slipped his feet into his really very silly slippers.

That made him feel a little better. Warm cushioning to protect him from the cold concrete floor. The face of Yasgur, the little yellow canary from the Sunday comics staring up at him, his slightly malformed twin beside him with the faint crust of spilled pot pie on his nose which Armand had done his best to wipe away before it'd set in. They made a dry sound as they slid over the floor, as Armand padded down the hall and out to his bed. He thought it might help to take his mind off, perhaps wind him down a little, to watch the monitors. He lifted Yasgur's big, silly head and stepped down on the power-strip until he heard it click. He bent for his remote he'd left balancing on the top of one of the screens and clicked the power on for all of them.

They lit up, some blinking on sooner than others, the static sound from Louis' and Lestat's mics with nothing to feed but midnight silence filling the room with a pleasant white noise. Another little comfort. He let his eyes scan over them. Luchenbaum was up, working away at the gears by lamplight, Claudia was snug on the couch, Madeleine had seemingly kicked her silk sheets off in her sleep and was now curled up in the fetal position, hugging her knees and shivering. Lestat sat in the middle of his living room floor, turning the pages of a photo album and at last, Armand dared to turn his eyes to the monitor that showed Daniel's apartment.

A lot of stark white, something black edging in on the left of the screen, then the right, then the left again.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at. There was something in the center, too. A black dot with string of some sort trailing out of it, panning from side to side.

A hole in plaster… wires…

His blood ran cold and he'd hardly the time to put the vague shape of his thoughts into even one word:

DANGER.

There was a sudden pounding on the door.

 

---

 

By the third slam of his fist against the door, Daniel realized his mistake.

I don’t have any kind of weapon…

Not that he knew Armand to be any kind of threat to him, physically, but he could be. He might become one when confronted with the fact that he'd been found out.

And what if it was more nefarious than cameras? What if pulling on this thread would lead Daniel to something really grim?

What if there were bodies?

His wild rotation of panicked thinking was jammed when the first deadbolt slid back. Then the second. A click of brass against brass in the door's handle, the clattering of a chain sliding into place. The industrial handle turned down on Daniel's side of the door and it opened slowly, no more than a crack maybe three inches wide. Enough for two frightened eyes to peer through, Armand's body tucked behind the door as if for safety.

As if he were afraid of Daniel.

Oh, the anger soared in Daniel then.

"Open this door!" He pushed at it, stretching the chain taught, making Armand move back and flinch.

Daniel only had a sliver of him in his view, but he could see the trembling. The nerve to cower now…

He must know… He must've seen on some monitor somewhere…

"Open the fucking door, Armand!"

Armand shook his head. "Show me your hands," he said.

"What?!"

"Slide them through the door and show me that you aren't holding anything. Both at the same time."

"You're out of your fucking mind."

Of course Daniel wouldn't be doing that. Armand would probably kick the door closed on them as hard as he could, shatter the bones in his wrists and then he'd be at an advantage. And that wasn't accounting for all that remained unseen behind the door. He could have his own weapons, after all…

He could have rope…

"I know what you're thinking, I know what you're wary of. I won't hurt you, Daniel. I assume Eglee saw you slip out? If I harmed you in any way, it would be discovered."

All that proved to Daniel was that Armand had thought it, too.

"Stand back."

"What?"

"Fine. Or don't."

Daniel reared back on his left foot and kicked out hard with his right, pulling the chain out of the jam and causing the door to burst in. Armand scrambled back, hands out in front of him, eyes wild and bouncing around the room.

Daniel took it in, the adrenaline stretching what must've only been a handful of seconds into enough time for him to survey that the concrete floor from the hall had extended into the space, that the only shelves were made of splintering scrap wood, and that behind where Armand stood trembling in a too-small terrycloth robe and ridiculous yellow slippers, was a floor-to-ceiling black curtain.

"What do you mean to-"

"Step aside."

"Daniel, don't…"

He moved on him, gripping Armand's wrist roughly in his hand and yanking him out of the way. He wasn't sure if it was the spiked adrenaline making him stronger, or if there was simply no fight in Armand. He approached the curtain, looking back over his shoulder to keep Armand in check if he needed to, but the man was only standing there, staring at him as though he were resigned to whatever would come next. As though all hope were lost.

"I'm gonna look behind this thing. Am I going to see something bad, Armand?"

The brave sound of his own voice shocked him. He wasn't feeling brave. He was feeling sick to his stomach. There was a smell… Not of rot, he didn't think, but a festering, wallowing smell. A dank basement smell coupled with something else…

Like the time he'd gone with his dad and uncle to clear out his grandfather's shed after he'd died. The man had made a secondary little habitat for himself out there after the death of Daniel's grandmother, like he couldn't stand to stay in the house proper anymore. One cold winter, a gas-powered space heater, and he'd put himself to sleep for good. The heaters went out and he'd frozen solid in his recliner.

It wasn't a death smell… It was the smell of squalor… of isolation and melancholy. A lonely smell.

Armand let out a held breath, shaking. He clutched closed the collar of his robe with his fingers and turned his eyes to the floor. "Yes."

Daniel's instinct was to pity the man in that moment, but he cleared it away with a sneer and ripped the curtain back to find…

To find a twin sized mattress on the floor, heaped with old blankets, a couple of well-used pillows, and across from it…

Armand moved a little in his periphery and Daniel shot him a look, freezing him in place. He held him there with his eyes while he ventured past the curtain. Once he was certain Armand wasn't planning to jump him from behind, he turned his head to look at the stack of monitors assembled together with a tangle of wires. He followed the mass of plugs to the powerstrip on the floor and cautiously, he approached it.

"Please…" Armand said, just as his foot rose up to click the power on. "Don't."

But it was too late. The monitors blinked on, Daniel's eyes following from the first, to the final as they did. At last, they landed on the one showing his very own ceiling, like a ripped out eyeball staring back into its socket.

"Holy shit…"

Armand approached him, sidestepping his way into Daniel's view first so as not to startle him, stepping over the mattress and placing himself between Daniel and the monitors. He reached for Daniel's forearms, tugging himself close. Daniel was almost too dazed to think much of it, the big punchline dawning on him slow as molasses. His air escaped him in a laugh.

"Christ…"

"Daniel." Armand gripped him harder, pulling his attention to him. "Why don't we just go upstairs and talk. We can go upstairs, to your place. We can talk. I'll tell you everything and then…"

He pulled Daniel's hands to his waist and Daniel realized what it was he was angling at.

He threw him off, stumbling back. "No! What are you, crazy?"

Again, that struck him as funny and he was laughing even harder. Armand's pupils were dancing around the room again, his mouth open, at a loss as tears filled his eyes. He sunk down to the mattress at his heels, propping himself on his palms, overcome.

"Some fucking security set-up you've got here. My GOD…"

Yet Daniel had never felt such relief in the face of a horrifying discovery.

He's not a serial killer. At least there's that… At least there's that…

He spun around, taking another look at the place and that shocked humor began to drain from him.

"You… You live like this?"

Armand made a choked sound as he sucked in a breath and Daniel's attention dropped to him where he sat, in a daze, on what appeared to be his bed. He didn't reply.

"Here I was, thinking you secretly owned the building, but jesus…"

"I do," Armand's voice answered at last, weak and defeated. "I own the building."

So that meant this was all him. His doing. Perhaps Daniel had been reserving his judgment in the event that Armand was being forced to live here, to work himself to the bone. It hadn't made a lot of sense, but to be fair, Daniel hadn't had a lot of time to think too deeply into it.

He supposed he'd just wanted to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Because…

Fuck.

Because he liked him…

"Of course you do." The inclination to pat himself on the back for the increasing likelihood of his backhanded inheritance theory being true swelled. He ignored it. A time and a place and this was neither. The immediate thing at hand was the stack of monitors. The invasion. Not just of his own privacy, but that of the entire building, it seemed. He roved over the screens again, lingering long enough to catch sight of Madeleine in a silky nightgown bunched high on her thigh before bouncing away again. He shook his head and leveled his gaze at Armand.

“So the ‘nightly wanks’ — you’ve been watching them.”

Armand’s jaw clenched, his lips twitched but no answer came. It wasn’t necessary, though. Everything was so nakedly obvious in the light of the monitors.

“Watched me and Louis, watched me and Raven,” Daniel listed off.

Armand’s total lack of surprise when he’d found Daniel in that state, it all made sense now.

“You must know I would not have let you stay in that position indefinitely,” Armand said, still without meeting Daniel’s eyes. “I would have come up with a solution eventually had Louis not intervened.”

“Night before last must have been a real show for you, huh?” Daniel realized aloud. “Forget Buckley Barns.”

“Burns.”

“Lestat and Louis are your real favorite stars, aren’t they?”

Armand bit hard into his bottom lip, closed his eyes. Guilty. Guilty as fuck.

“Lestat couldn’t keep his mouth shut about Louis sleeping over. That had to be a long night for you.”

Looking at the birds-eye view of Lestat’s empty bed, Daniel couldn’t help but imagine it. Lestat had not been remotely subtle in his descriptions, flowery though they were. ‘Intimately entwined such as we have not been in months,’ could only have so many meanings. Lestat had fucked Louis, or Louis had fucked Lestat. Images of each scenario seemed to fill in the empty space in flashes. He suspected that the language about Louis ‘inviting’ Lestat gave him the answer, but here was the witness next to him. He could just ask.

And what would that make him?

“Did you watch?” Daniel demanded instead.

“Yes.”

“Did you just watch?”

“No.”

Daniel shifted his weight restlessly from one foot to the other, staring down at the mattress. The mattress where Armand had been having his ‘nightly wanks,’ to the private lives of people he saw as…what? Free entertainment? Worse?

A ‘puppet-master,’ Louis had called him.

Oh God, Louis, who felt like he was being haunted…

That path was too dark. Daniel couldn’t walk it, yet.

“Do you use your hands or is it more elaborate?” he asked.

He could be a coward for at least a minute, here, couldn’t he?

Armand’s eyes darted Daniel’s way. They couldn’t get wider, but they seemed to almost shake with the intensity of the shame that radiated from him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he finally answered, nearly a whisper.

“Do you use toys? Do you pretend you’re the one getting fucked?”

“No. I never have. Not…not while watching.”

"Okay," Daniel said. A small token. A carefully laid poker chip. 'I believe you.' If he'd learned one thing in his time at the San Casaval Chronicle, it was that trust -or the appearance of it- could buy you the truth later on down the line. But you had to bank it.

Usually.

Already, it seemed to be working in Daniel's favor. Uncomfortable in the silence, Armand's fingers played nervously with a frayed and threadbare bit of terrycloth at his collar. Daniel approached the edge of the sad little mattress, pinched the denim at his knees and lowered himself to sit on it. At last, Armand met his eyes.

"I feel silly pleading not to be misunderstood, but I never… imagined myself in those scenarios, Daniel. The ones on the screens. It's not predation, there's never been any intent beyond… beyond a benign benevolence when needed."

"When needed. Listen to yourself."

"You're the only one who-" He faltered, tugged his collar tighter, and winced at whatever it was he was trying to get out.

Daniel inclined an ear towards him, resting his elbows on his knees, waiting.

"I'd never fancied myself in anyone's place until… you."

Daniel needed a moment to let that one sink in. And sink in, it did. Right between his legs where he was stupidest.

And what if he's trying to manipulate you again? Could just be the back-half of his ploy to get you upstairs, get your mind off the betrayal and on other things. Get your head in the game, Molloy.

"Flattering," he said flatly.

Armand sighed. "And I suppose now you will be calling the authorities."

Really? Daniel found himself thinking next. That's it? Just gonna give up like that?

"Cops? No. I'm not a fan, if you can believe that." So what was the plan, then? "But maybe you can clear something up for me."

Seeming increasingly addled, Armand dropped his hands to his sides, his thumbs rubbing at the pads of his other fingers. "I can try."

"You a virgin?"

"This again." Armand sucked his teeth.

There was that nasty little spark. That streak of combative acid Daniel had caught a glimpse of in the garage.

"Well what am I supposed to think? You didn't want to fuck me before, then you just threw yourself at me like a little bit of ass was gonna make me forget all about the fact that you're a fucking peeper-"

"What does it matter what I say now? I'm a virgin. I'm not a virgin. You won't believe me either way, will you?"

Daniel turned his palms up on his knees. "I'll believe you. At the very least, I'll hear you out."

Again, Armand's attention darted away to a far corner. "It's been a long time. It's not a lack of experience, I simply wasn't ready."

"Until you felt backed into a fucking corner, that was."

An angry grimace. The nastiness rising to the surface.

"So you had no designs on the others."

"That's the truth, though I suspect you won't believe that, either."

"Alright," Daniel said, hoping to impress that he did. "So why me?"

Huffing, Armand's arms crossed over his belly. "A vain question."

"I can think of something worse to be than vain, Armand."

"I suppose it started with your book. Reading it on a curious whim after meeting with you initially."

"The book about the hapless fuck-up who gets stalked by a monster? Shocking."

"I don't know what more to say. You were kind to me. You took an interest despite my strangeness. I find you attractive and the rest I've not sat with long enough to put into words. If it can be so summarily symposed."

He didn't appear to be so shellshocked any longer which was good. Daniel felt he was getting somewhere. If slowly. "You orchestrated me taking that specific apartment. Why?"

"I'd found you fascinating right from the start. I wanted your home to suit all your needs, to help you get on your feet and to help you write."

"Okay, Annie Bates."

"That's unkind."

"Is it?"

"Have I, in any way, harmed you or anyone in this building?"

Daniel didn't think splitting hairs over the definition of 'harm' could possibly be all that productive so he moved past it.

"What did you think would happen if anyone found their way down here? You really didn't have any kind of contingency in place?"

Armand stared blankly at him.

"Come on." Daniel found himself laughing again. "I suppose you got away with it this long, anyway. I'm impressed."

"I'll let you break your lease, of course. You won't be made to-"

"Break my lease? Who said I was moving out?"

Struck, Armand tilted his head.

"Do I look like I'm running off?"

"Perhaps not," Armand concluded. "This gives you leverage, I suppose you'd like to harness that against me for something? Extort me somehow?"

Jesus…

"Is that what you think of me?"

Armand shook his head. "It's just what anyone else in your position might do. You surprise me, yet again."

Daniel pushed himself off the mattress then and walked around the man, surveying the dark apartment. He moved across the living area (if one could call it that) and into what appeared to be the kitchen, though it was… sparse. He glanced over his shoulder, having heard Armand's slippers padding behind him, and then resumed his reach for the refrigerator door.

"Wait-"

"Don't think I will. Wanna be sure there aren't any body parts in here."

He pulled it open to reveal almost nothing inside. The dregs of a bottle of juice and that was it. Daniel pulled it out and screwed the cap off, turning to face Armand.

"I do live alone, Daniel."

"It shows." He gave it a sniff, just in case. "This isn't gonna get me drunk, is it?"

"I only bought it three days ago."

Daniel was already sinking it. He drained the last drops and then pulled it away from his lips to inspect again. "Concord grape."

"It's not as tart as the others…"

Daniel walked to the garbage can and dropped it in. "What do you eat, Armand?"

"Open the freezer."

And here's where he gets you.

"Any heads in there?"

Armand glowered.

"Alright, but I'm trusting you." He peered inside. Three frozen pot pies. Freezer King brand. The same ones he'd eaten as a kid. "Well." He slammed it shut and whirled around. "I suppose it's got all your food groups covered, at least."

"Is this helping?"

"I don't know if you can be helped, Armand. I mean…"

"I meant, is it helping you? Do you feel better having wasted your time with me? Is humiliating me your retribution?"

Daniel was thrown off by that.

"Do you think that's what I'm doing?"

"I don't know what you're doing, Daniel. I feel I may be as shocked as you are by your inaction against me."

Daniel shrugged. "Maybe I feel like I haven't much room to judge. I mean, well… obviously I'm judging. You're a Grade A sicko. A real piece of work. If you were turned in to the police, they'd probably have to put you on some sort of registry. But in a way, it's like we've got something in common. I can't fault you for finding people interesting."

He could see how badly Armand wanted to distrust him. And how hard he was finding it.

"So. Daddy Warbanks left you a project, huh?"

He waited for Armand to answer but he'd gone rigid and still again.

"Yeah, listen, I talked to Lestat some. I know that a man named Marius de Romanus used to own this place. I know he used to own a lot of places. I figure… an important man like that with his name on a building or two, yeah he's probably got some connections, he's probably had to wash out some stains here and there with some well-publicized charity work. But when his name's on half the city…"

"That was my adopted father. Yes. You've figured it out."

Armand had spoken so abruptly that it startled Daniel off the course of his Polumbo-esque little victory lap.

"So, what- was there a disagreement? Were you intended to be the heir apparent until some wicked stepmother stepped in? Did he double-cross you and leave it all to charity in an attempt to sustain his legacy as city benefactor? What was it?"

Armand bit his lower lip.

"Did you forgive him? Is that why you don't wanna-"

"It's not easy to talk about. I'm sure you can understand."

"The man ran a foundation to lift talented youngsters out of poverty and give them a future in the arts and his only adopted son is left to rot in squalor."

"If I didn't want this life, I would simply sell the building, Daniel."

If he didn't want this life?

Amazed, Daniel kicked his foot out and moved to the sink, peering inside. It was empty. The dish strainer contained two objects; a heart-shaped plate divided into sections and a familiar paper cup. Just like the ones from Caroline’s. Armon was written on the side in thick, black grease pencil. Daniel plucked it up, turned it, and produced it for Armand to see.

"You kept this?"

"You gave it to me."

An amused little huff escaped him and he replaced it in the strainer, moving back out into the living space. He slapped the back of the beat up looking sofa and watched dust billow off it in a cloud, clearing the air in front of his face before moving back to Armand's little hovel. All the while, he could hear Armand's sliding feet behind him.

"All standard television screens and security monitors. No widescreens means no pan and scan to destroy your vision, at least…"

"I don't make recordings."

"Bullshit."

Daniel kicked the corner of the mattress to see if any interesting clouds would come off of that, as well. A little insult to injury, if not for his sake then for Louis'.

Nothing.

At least he seems to launder his bedding…

"You can inspect the monitors if you like."

"What's with the VCR parts, then?"

Armand seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Talked to Janet at the Pick 'n Save about the busted old VCRs she saves for you?"

"A hobby. I've been trying to construct one for some time, but it's trickier than you'd imagine. Each brand has their own unique configuration, the way the parts fit together-"

"So you don't have a stash of home movies somewhere?"

"No."

The monitor on which Lestat had been flipping through photo albums moments ago drew Daniel's attention again as the man got to his feet and stretched, grunting into a yawn.

"Oh, shit. I hadn't even considered mics…"

"Only in his and Louis' apartments. Nobody else is wired for sound. I hadn't gotten-" He swallowed, his eyes blinking shamefully away. "I wanted to get mics in yours, but it's been a busy few weeks and your job doesn't require you to be away for very long spans of time."

Don't be flattered by that…

"Already, I get to join the exalted ranks of Louis and Lestat? Again, I'm flattered…"

Christ, the implications of Armand listening in to Louis' apartment. Guilt made Daniel's stomach sour and again, Armand was choosing silence.

"You know how bad it's gotten for him, don't you?" Daniel asked. "For Louis?"

"It's part of what drives me to keep looking out for him."

"It's part of what's making him crazy, Armand!"

That made him flinch and suddenly the guilt in Daniel's guts seemed torn. He turned the topic away from Louis, for both their sakes.

"So how long did it take to set all this up? I assume the renovation was part of it?"

"I had many reasons to renovate."

"Building older than God, sure, that makes sense, but I don't buy for one second that you hadn't considered working it into your plans from the jump."

"It's just a byproduct of renovating a building so old, Daniel. The cost of heating and cooling? Updating the plaster, the electrical wires… There had always been ample crawlspace from previous renovations, I only had to work with what was already there."

"So how did this all come about?"

Selective silence, again. Frustrated, Daniel decided to continue the chase around the apartment. He left Armand, rounded back around the couch, and headed for the hallway yet unexplored.

Armand's sliding became more of a soft stomp after him.

"Daniel, I can show you around-"

"I'm making myself at home." Daniel stopped into what revealed itself to be the bathroom after a flick of the light switch. The wall was moist, the air inside still steamy from Armand's shower. The bathroom was not quite as bleak as the rest of the place.

"So there's your window…"

"For ventilation. To reduce the chance of mildew or mold."

Daniel could smell a little of both. "How's that working out for you?"

He was crowded in, now, with Armand blocking the doorway.

"Excuse me," he said, bumping past him.

"Daniel, please-"

Daniel headed for the last room, what he presumed to be the bedroom. There was no door. Not even hinges for one, just a squared off entryway.

"They couldn't have fit you out with some light in the hallway, at least?"

But then, who was they? He supposed this little dugout might've been Armand's making, after all. Those more granular questions, he would save for another time. When all of this had settled and the shock had worn off and their minds were clear enough to think of a path forward, perhaps.

Inside the room, he found the light switch easily, but it didn't illuminate the room from any overhead fixture; instead, it lit up a tall standing lamp in the corner. There was a dresser to his right, some shelves to his left, a standing wardrobe, and at his feet, the edge of an Arabesque rug that traveled beyond a hanging red velvet curtain that seemed to divide the side of the room they were standing in from the other, unseen.

Armand stepped into the space after him and Daniel went for the dresser, pulling out the top rightmost drawer.

"Huh," he mused. "Socks."

"Still looking for heads?" Armand quipped darkly, making him laugh a little to himself as he moved to the next drawer. "No fingers, no eyeballs. I assure you. Nothing of much interest."

"Well, I wouldn't say that…" Daniel held up a deep emerald green pair of women's silk panties with black lace fanning out over the backside. "Who's apartment did you raid for these?"

Armand snatched them from him, balling them in his fist and shoving them into the pocket of his robe. "Are you quite done?"

"There's a big mysterious curtain in your bedroom, Armand. No, I'm not done."

He stepped near enough to it to draw it back, but in a flash Armand was between him and the divide, hands clutching his shoulders, eyes pleading.

"Don't."

"You haven't managed to stop me, yet."

"This time, I'm begging."

It broke his heart the way Armand was looking at him, the way he could feel his shirt lifting around his waist from how Armand's fingers clenched into the fabric at his shoulders.

"I know I've no right to ask you to respect my privacy, but if you're at all better than me in that regard, Daniel…"

Daniel backed down, softened his stance, exhaled. "Alright," he said, pulling back from his clutch. "Yeah. Alright. Suppose you've been exposed enough for one evening."

Armand's relief was palpable. "Thank you…"

But Daniel couldn't help the paranoid thoughts of just what might be behind that velvet curtain. His mind looped back around to the smell of the place. He didn't smell human decay, nothing like that, but an image projected itself into his mind of something truly dreadful. The exhumed and preserved body of Daddy Warbanks himself, perhaps.

And even if that were the case, Daniel wondered, would it do anything to kill the pity he felt for the man?

Or his intrigue? However misguided…

A stupid thought. Of course it would only drive it.

"I suppose your little mind might fracture and come crashing down if we disassemble those monitors tonight, huh?" Daniel asked, a little pointedly unkind for effect. Perhaps to fool himself.

Armand did not speak. He stood there like he was awaiting his verdict.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna make you do that. Seems like the sort of thing I should sleep on. Seems like the sort of thing you should sleep on, too."

"I'll shut them off. I won't look at them."

"I don't know if it fucking matters at this point…"

Armand's defeat was worn plainly on his face and Daniel regretted the bristly approach in an instant. That was no way to wind down from all this.

"I think we both need to get some rest, is what I'm saying. I don't think we're going to work this out at 2am." He softened, even conceding a half-smile to the man. "You agree?"

"You're leaving?" Armand asked.

"Don't think we'll both fit on that little mattress…"

He saw Armand swallow hard. Flustering him after all of that felt powerful.

"Chin up," he added. "We'll talk heavy in the morning. Clear your fucking calendar."

Armand nodded and Daniel turned to head out of the room and down the hall to the entryway of the basement apartment. Armand trailed him.

"Sorry about your door."

"It was only the chain. It's an easy fix," Armand said softly, as though he were in awe that Daniel was leaving and that he wasn't to be carted off in handcuffs.

Daniel supposed that was justifiably something to be in awe about, considering. He opened the door and stood himself on the other side of it. Like he'd only popped down to borrow an egg or something. Armand held onto the door, pushing it not quite halfway closed, like it was a shield between them.

"I don't know what to…"

Daniel shrugged. "Say goodnight."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Armand."

 

---

 

Rest…

That was what Daniel had prescribed them both. But rest would not come easy, of course. Rest would be out of reach most nights if it weren't for the distractions the monitors brought. The little lives that were not his; some happier, some anomalous to him, all of which serving a welcome retreat from his own. He had made no promise to shut them off, just an offer. And one that he told himself he would have abided by if only Daniel said the word.

Which he had not.

So Armand curled around his pillow on his mattress, resting his head and trying to turn his mind off as he clicked through the scenes. Madeleine had gotten up for a glass of water. Claudia tossed on the couch. Louis slept like the dead, flat on his back with this hands folded on his belly. Luchenbaum had fallen asleep at his work again, a puddle of drool threatening to rust the springs beneath his chin. Lestat, at last, had gone to bed, Louis' bedside portrait resting on the pillow beside him.

Arguably a sadder configuration than his own, at the present moment. Armand wouldn't have it that way if it were up to him. And naturally, there was not much activity at this late an hour. Armand, himself, was usually off to sleep by now. It was only the most harrowing of sleepless nights when he found himself clicking through the dollhouse this late. Boring, boring…

Did he dare click past Daniel's swaying ceiling?

He bit the corner of his pillow between his teeth and pressed the button. Daniel's bathroom. He pressed it again. The bedroom.

And Daniel.

He stood dead in the center of the room, staring up at the camera, a top-down view of him. He couldn't have been there for long, Armand thought. He'd only left moments ago, and accounting for the trek back up to his -He would've passed Eglee. She'll think we've slept together, now… - he might've only been in his apartment for a handful of minutes.

Armand felt an icy chill down his spine.

Perhaps he's reconsidering getting the police involved…

Suddenly Daniel was stomping away, out of frame. Armand pulled up onto his arm, pillow dropping from his mouth as he watched Daniel return a few seconds later with the cordless black phone in his hand. This was it. His undoing. He could only watch as it played out, stricken motionless.

Daniel thrust the phone up at the camera, pointing at it with his other hand.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," Armand whispered aloud.

He watched Daniel turn visibly frustrated, an overly animated tossing of the head and rolling of the eyes and then he was pressing buttons on the phone. A moment later, Armand jumped at the sound of his own ringing on the floor beside him. He lifted the receiver, pulling himself up to sit without having to prop himself on his arm, and wound the kinked up cord around his elbow.

"Hello?" he answered quietly.

"You watching me?"

Armand hesitated. Was he in trouble?

"Yes."

"Good," Daniel said. "Keep watching."

Armand edged down to the side of the bed, curling his legs underneath himself and hugging the pillow close to his belly. He watched Daniel set the phone down on the bottom of the bed and shuck out of his shirt. He undid the button of his jeans before picking the phone back up and putting it back to his ear.

"Am I right that you've got one in the ceiling?"

"Yes," Armand answered meekly.

"What's the best angle for you?"

He wasn't sure what Daniel meant.

"I mean… to see from. You've got one in the ceiling and where else?"

"The mirror mounted on the wall…"

 

---

 

Well that was helpful. Daniel glanced over at it, saw himself, and was able to imagine what the view must be like contained in a little 12"×12" box. The view, of course, was of the bed. He could be sure, this way.

"Still watching?"

"Yes," Armand's faint voice replied.

"Pull up the camera behind the mirror." Daniel gave him ample time as he used his free hand to spread out the comforter on the bed. "Did you do that for me?"

"I have."

"Good," Daniel praised him again.

Jesus what am I doing…

He climbed onto the bed and laid himself back, fighting the undulating wave of the water. He tugged his pillow down to prop up his head and turned to check himself in the mirror. Was that going to look alright? He thought so.

"Are you in your bed?" he asked.

"Y-yes?"

"You were in bed and you were watching the monitors…"

"It's the only way to get to sleep."

Daniel laughed. "You ever consider just fantasizing like a normal person?"

He received no answer to that, which he supposed was fair enough. He was teasing the man after knocking down his fortress wall, after all.

"Were you touching yourself?"

"No."

Made sense. Daniel figured there probably wasn't much in the way of material at this hour. He took down his fly.

'Bout to change all that…

He reached into his open jeans, giving himself a tug or two to achieve the full effect when he pulled himself out. Not that Armand hadn't seen him in less than impressive states already, but if he was going to put on a show, he was going to put on a show.

He watched himself take it out in the mirror, biting back a slight grin at the sight of himself. He was finally beginning to get used to the way he looked coming off the drugs. His arms weren't so shrink-wrapped and sinewy, the little lip of his lower belly no longer shocked him. He looked healthy and straight. He had light in his eyes again.

And a pretty big dick there, Molloy…

Of course. Yes. And there was that.

Armand sucked in a breath that Daniel could hear through the receiver. There was static like the cord was being pulled on and shuffled around.

"Don't hang up, alright?" Daniel said, licking his palm. He wrapped it around his dick and watched himself stroke from base to head. "Keep watching?"

Armand seemed to tremble out his assent. "Mhmm…"

Daniel heard yet more rustling, but underneath that, he heard the steady rhythm of Armand's breathing. He was there. He was watching.

"So this does it for you?"

"Yes."

"How many times have you… I mean, I gotta assume you're always tuned in at night…"

"Enough to know it's a nightly ritual you keep."

The crackling of his outdated phone added a strange quality to his voice. He sounded like the ghost of some silver-screen sexpot in Daniel's ear. The Black Begonia speaking to him from beyond the grave… through a fucking phonograph or something…

The thrill of it traveled down his brain stem, his spine, making his toes clench in the air. His dick throbbed in his hand and he picked up his pace.

"Are you touching it, Armand?"

"Do you want me to?"

"No, I thought I'd call to chat about the weather while I rub one out. Are you touching it now?"

"I can be…"

"Do that for me, yeah?"

There was a big exhale, yet more shuffling around, and then a soft sound. Like 'ah,' followed by choppy breathing.

"Yeah?" Daniel prompted again.

"Yeah," Armand sighed on the other end.

Fuck…

"You said you use toys sometimes?"

"No. Well… I have, but…"

"Been a while?"

"Hah… Something like that…"

"What about your fingers?"

"Daniel…"

"Oh, is that too outrageous a question?"

"No, I usually just… It's usually just this way."

"Your hand on your dick, you mean."

A huff cracked over the line and Daniel felt some triumph. Irritating him was proving to be nearly as exhilarating as getting him off over the phone.

"You wanna describe it to me? Since only one of us has the benefit of being able to see here?"

"Describe…?"

"Maybe not so much the atmosphere, but what you're doing…?"

"The same as you, Daniel. Can you angle your hips this way a little? Perhaps if you shove that extra pillow under…"

Daniel halted his actions, complying without a second thought. "Smartass. I mean tell me about it. Does it feel nice?"

"You know it does…"

"You must be treating yourself real gently… Can hardly hear it in your voice…"

"You want me to pleasure myself like some Cro-magnon, the way you do it?"

Daniel burst out in laughter. Oh, he was having fun. "Cro-magnon? As if there's a more elegant way to beat off?"

"I assure you, if you could see me now-"

"On your cum-stained mattress? I'm sure you're a dainty little vision…"

"Maybe I just like to make it last."

That felt pointed. Daniel considered his typically utilitarian nightly sessions and thought it was a little unjust that they made up the king's share of data here. Then he recalled his night with Raven, the only other sample Armand would be able to pull from.

"Well that's a little unfair. You know that girl had me tied up…"

"I'd thought it was the slap to your face that had done it."

Yeah… There was that, too.

"Look, I'm sorry that turned out to be a letdown. I didn't exactly know I had an audience. We had an audience. There was an entire other person whose privacy you violated that night."

"And what an angel she was."

Jesus Christ… Daniel felt he should push against that on pure principle, but he could not deny that in this moment, it was really doing it for him.

"To think, I felt like a real bastard eyeing you up and down in that old swimming pool on the roof…"

Armand hummed.

"Really had me fooled. Thought you were the angel, Armand." The tight furl of his fist knocked against the ridge of his cock, his hand growing slick with himself. "You want to be good, though, don't you? You try to be? That's why you slink around the building, doing favors for everyone, treating us like your pets?"

Armand was inarticulate still.

"Talk to me…"

"I don't know what you want me to talk about…"

"If I come first, I'm going to hang up the phone, Armand. Pick up your pace."

"You're close?"

"No, but I'm gonna be soon. Stop looking at me and look down at yourself. Are you doing that?"

Choked, Armand answered, "Yes."

"Describe it."

"That's…"

"Do it or I hang up the phone."

"It's… I'm not as big as you."

"Few are."

"I've slowed down a bit, to concentrate on talking, but I'm… It's rigid in my hand…"

Daniel licked his lips, throwing his head back on the pillow under it, letting go of the phone and leaving it to rest precariously against his ear, tossing the back of his left arm over his eyes. "Is it leaking?"

He could almost hear the shudder run through Armand over the phone.

"Yes…"

"What's it taste like?"

"Do you want me to… now? Or are you asking how it tastes normally…"

Daniel might've sat up if the bed weren't working against him. "You taste yourself regularly?"

"No. Only…" Armand sighed. "Sometimes the circumstances necessitate it."

Circumstances?

"Such as…?"

"For example…" He panted into the phone, cutting himself off and then regaining his composure enough to speak again. "When I am in the crawlspace…"

"You jerk off in the walls?"

"Not always. Not…" Frustrated, he sighed. "No. Not usually."

"But you have."

"Once."

"When?"

The line grew quiet, not even the sound of Armand's breathing coming through.

"Armand?"

"After our first night out. I… I couldn't ease my excitement, I needed to feel near to you…"

"I invited you up…"

"I needed to feel near to you a while longer without compromising my respectability on the first date, Daniel."

For the first time since this hot little phone call began, Daniel felt a tug at his heart. Not the time to examine that, however.

"Okay," he said. "So you jerked off in my walls… Sounds even filthier when you say it out loud like that. Though, I suspect you'd rather have it the other way around."

"So you say, but you were the one offering to 'fuck me hard' merely an hour ago…"

"Can't a man have preferences?"

"I'm rolling onto my stomach, now."

Daniel was filled to brimming with gratitude for the update. "Yeah? How's that work?"

"This is how I like it best. It's… hah… It's more difficult with the phone under my ear, but I've got the pillow helping with that. I pull one leg up to give myself room and I reach below my hips."

'If you could see me now,' indeed.

"That's hot, Armand. Are you still in that tattered little robe?"

"No, I'd changed into pajamas. The elastic of the waistband is loose on me."

"Bet I can guess why."

Armand moaned and Daniel had to pinch himself at the head to keep from another early finish. "Fuck…"

"If I make a mess in them, I'll just take them off, wipe myself clean… Deal with it in the morning."

Daniel couldn't speak until he'd recovered and he couldn't recover until Armand's voice died on the line long enough.

"Daniel?" Velvety and concerned, it rang through again and Daniel was lost to it, spilling up his belly in a violent jerk.

He'd had enough of a warning that he'd been able to allow himself to give in and enjoy it. The image of Armand on his belly in his pajamas, humping into his fist with his ass in the air, the sordid gray background that surrounded him blessedly rubbed out to a blur by Daniel's mind as he rode out his orgasm.

He heard the smallest whimper muffled by what must've been the pillow through the earpiece, but it was several hanging seconds before he could gather himself enough to speak again.

"Armand…?"

"Yes…"

That might as well have been his answer. The man sounded deeply satisfied, half asleep already.

"Did you…?"

"I did."

Daniel let his head sink back fully into his pillow, then, and breathed deep, the slight rock of the water beneath him adding to the soothing wane of his climax. "Good."

"It was."

But there was something in Armand's tone. The uncertainty of what might come next, perhaps, and Daniel felt it, too.

"Talk tomorrow?" he asked.

"I suppose we must," Armand answered. "Was that all you needed?"

Again, Daniel felt a laugh escape him. Like he'd just called down to report a drip in his bathtub or a lightbulb gone out. "Yeah. S'all I needed. Goodnight, Armand. For real this time."

"Mmm…"

Armand sounded halfway to sleep already and Daniel clicked off the call, wondering if Armand would even manage to hang up from his side.

 

Chapter 14: I rarely avert my eyes

Summary:

Aftermath and reconciliation

Notes:

Apologies to Justin Kirk. You’ll find out why 😅

---

Even after a blowout orgasm like that, Daniel was restless. He couldn't even toss and turn properly thanks to the fucking waterbed.

He propelled himself out of it, finally, let his feet carry his groggy head. And just like the old habits, he found himself pulled in the direction of danger.

He let himself out of the apartment, his feet bare, his boxers and t-shirt all he wore. He rode the elevator down, held his breath when the lights flickered and it jumped, then righted itself and stopped.

He stepped out into the empty lobby, the night, and wound his way around to the side of the building on the cold cement. He went down the stairs that lead to the basement entrance and saw that the padlocked chain winding the handle to the door had been busted loose, the padlock swinging open against the metal of the doorjamb. He tried it, and it opened to him. He moved into the dark, feeling along the wall until he found the door to Armand's unit. The slightest pressure pushed it open and he stepped inside.

The space was illuminated only by the glow of the monitors, white and black crackling static. It grew louder as he approached and saw that Armand's feet were poking out on the mattress from behind where the curtain was partially pulled closed.

"Armand?"

The reply came muffled and without hesitation, Daniel stepped around the curtain to see Armand naked and bound up in rope, sitting in the center of his mattress. His mouth was covered with a strip of duct tape and Daniel's knees hit the springs when he went to rip it off.

"Kiss me, Daniel," Armand demanded when he should've been gasping for air.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kiss me and I'll tell you."

Daniel cautiously bent his head in to capture Armand's mouth and before their lips touched, a slick hot swipe of Armand's tongue licked over his. They pressed together, that tongue snaking its way past his teeth and stroking seductively against the roof of Daniel's mouth.

"Longcannon," Armand whispered as they parted. "He came in, he ravaged me, and he left me here for you to discover me like this, already tainted. Can you forgive me?"

"Forgive you?"

"I know you were hoping to be my first…"

Daniel's fingers had begun their work at the ropes while he gazed into Armand's dark, widening eyes. Two black holes in the frizzled light from the monitors behind him, beckoning his own to dance, to come get swallowed up and consumed.

He had to look away. To concentrate.

When he peered down at his hands, at their attempt to undo the knots, and he found that the rope was not rope at all, but a twisting, coiling black snake wrapped around Armand's body and constricting, and he'd somehow been pulled into its coils, his hands stuck between layers of muscled reptile belly, his wrists being pressed to shattering.

"Help me, Daniel," Armand said at last with a strain in his voice and panicked, Daniel turned his eyes back up to see that he was caught by the throat now, the snake's head coming up and swaying over the top of his head, as if taunting Daniel that Armand were his. Had always been.

And he had no intention of giving him up.

When Daniel woke, it was in a cold sweat, the room bright with the morning sun. It had to be past 8, now. Not a full night's sleep, but enough.

It wasn't like he could hope for more after whatever that had been…

He bounced from room to room looking for reasons to linger in his apartment -reasons that weren't sitting his ass down in front of his Yomiga and typing- and found himself standing, once more, smack in the center of his living room, hands on his hips, staring up at the wires which had finally given under the weight of the camera some time in the night. He'd found the thing resting on the carpet, seemingly unharmed save for the severed wires and he'd placed it on the coffee table where it sat now, pointed decidedly away from him.

He wanted to ask if there were any others around the space, but he thought there might be a few more pressing things to get out of the way first. Things that would gently ease the man into life on the other side of having his darkest secret discovered. Getting a better idea of who else he was watching, for example, outside of his 'favorites.' Whose walls he was climbing around in. Then, if he could get Armand back here, maybe he could get him to be honest about the set-up. He might've given the impression that he was pretty gung ho the previous night and he didn't want that to be taken as a full endorsement, necessarily.

He'd had his engine revved for a handful of hours leading up to all that, after all.

And on that note, his thoughts turned back to their previous night's phone call. The image he'd concocted in his head of Armand on his belly, leg hiked up, hand shoved down the front of his pajama pants, getting himself off to the sound of Daniel's voice in his ear.

Hell, if all the guy needed to level him out a bit was a few dirty words in his ear and a peek into Daniel's boudoir, well… Daniel thought he might have this whole thing solved.

But of course it wasn't going to be that easy. The man was absolutely warped. By what exactly Daniel wasn’t yet sure. It seemed likely that the man who set Armand up as heir to a fortune and then left him down in a dank basement had something to do with it, though. Daniel had already taken Lestat’s adulation of Marius de Romanus with a grain of salt. You couldn’t spend much time in investigative journalism without learning that nine times out of ten a ‘selfless philanthropist’ was anything but.

Did any of that insight really qualify Daniel to help with any of it? No. He was obviously taking on a responsibility he was not at all equipped for. Still in the thrall of discovery, not just of Armand's secret, but of the fact that Daniel, himself, was a special case who Armand simply couldn't resist… He needed to rein himself in a little. Yes, he liked the guy, not just in spite of his eccentricities, but for them. And was he really prepared to admit to himself that the voyeurism might count among those? Could he parse that somehow with the fact that he had a responsibility to do something? If not for himself or for the rest of the building, then for Louis?

It was possible that Daniel hadn't been the first to uncover it. It was possible that Armand did actually have a few severed heads stored somewhere in the building.

Or behind that red curtain…

It was possible. In light of Armand’s measly handful of extra locks on his door, the absence of any kind of obvious contingency plan once that defense was breached, and the fact that Daniel had left with his head still screwed on tight, it just didn’t feel likely. Unless he was going to call the cops — and fuck that — he'd have to take the risk.

Armand had been at this for years undetected, Daniel felt that in his bones.

That also meant that none of Armand’s other dolls knew they were being played with. If Daniel could get Armand to disconnect willingly, maybe they would never need to know at all. Never mind his inner journalist screaming at the back of his head that ‘maybe no one needs to know’ was probably the most piss-poor excuse for inaction.

One person in this situation did know what Daniel knew, and that was Armand. And Armand had, seemingly for the first time since all this began, decided to put his trust in Daniel. Enough of it, anyway, that he'd been on two dates with him. And even if the second one had gone a bit south by the end, it was clear in hindsight that it was because Armand had been pushing himself outside of what he'd grown accustomed to, desperate to try to let Daniel in.

It was a cry for help, conscious or unconscious, Daniel thought.

And it felt nice to be wanted by the most beautiful man Daniel had ever laid eyes on. Even if he was a little criminally insane.

Stepping beyond the threshold of his own apartment required a centering of himself, a deep breath, and a forceful push of himself. He jogged down the stairs to the lobby and up to Santiago's desk.

"Bet I can guess who you want."

"He around?"

"He called to say he'd be late. Most out of character. I must say, you are edging closer and closer to the prized position of most interesting tenant by the day."

"Oh yeah?" Daniel grinned, leaning on his palms. "Well, if you see him, you know what to tell him."

"Of course.”

He had shoved a small spiral memo pad and a pen in his pocket before heading out just in case of this scenario, and now he sat with his coffee and donuts trying to organize the events in some coherent way across the pages.

• 15+ monitors, multiple feeds

  • Can he see every apartment?

  • Multiple angles in each?

• No recordings

  • Not profiting

  • What’s the internal logic? Easing his guilt?

• OWNS THE BUILDING

  • Picking tenants for entertainment

  • No families with kids (is that even legal?) stupid question

He drew a line back up to connect the dots between ‘No families with kids’ and ‘What’s the internal logic?’ and wrote along the curve: Mitigating harm while he claims there is none.

Notes poured out of him from there, all the odd details and inconsistencies that he had catalogued mentally since meeting Armand. He tried to square them with the theories he’d confirmed and the ones he’d had to trash. The strange childhood, the contrast of his habits and his manners, the Marius de Romanus of it all… An old conversation with Louis resurfaced — Lestat and Armand had met before, but Lestat didn’t remember it.

• How does Lestat not know about the adoption?

  • He was in France

  • Marius didn’t tell him - why?

  • Armand hasn’t told him - why?

He found himself on a tangent about the mystery ex, too.

• ‘Singularly devoted’ to one boyfriend

  • Did he know?

    • Was Armand even doing it then?

    • Was he living with the boyfriend, maybe?

  • Armand hadn’t “been out” since 30, never really dated

    • 5 years ago = Marius death

    • Boyfriend left at the same time?

    • Gold digger? Disappointed in small inheritance?

In spite of everything, that flavor of speculation tasted pretty sour. Daniel flipped to a new page and a new tack.

• WANTS connection

  • Could have chosen to not pick up the phone

  • Wasn’t turned off by me knowing

  • hmmmm

“Could he be satisfied like that? Let go of the unwilling?”

A deep voice just to his left shocked Daniel’s shoulders up to his ears.

“Jesus Christ, Lestat,” he hissed, flipping the memo pad shut and shoving it down in his pocket.

Lestat slid into the booth across from him, clearly amused with himself for garnering such a reaction. "Writing a grocery list?"

"Something like that."

"I happened to read the summary on the back of Santiago's copy of your book just a little while ago, you know. He's just finished it."

"That so?"

"He praised it up and down, but the tight pocketed little imp wouldn't loan it to me. Said it was too precious a commodity, having been signed, and I thought… well, it's probably just slipped Daniel's mind to sign one for me."

Daniel rolled his eyes and finished the room temperature coffee in the bottom of his mug. "You want a copy? I can get you a copy."

He flashed back to the monitor the previous night where he saw Lestat poring over the photo album. Maybe it'd do him good to have some fresh reading material.

"Wonderful. Looking forward to confirming for myself that you're capable of writing romance between two men when you are so clearly repressed in your own sexuality."

Would a sexually repressed guy have phone sex on the third date after discovering the guy he's seeing has a nest in the basement where he spies on nearly everyone in the building?

Daniel supposed that could be argued on either side…

"Ha. Ha." he settled on. "You want a cruller?"

Lestat looked delighted at the offer and just as his fingers shot out to snatch the donut, Claudia and Louis strode by outside the window of their booth, deep in conversation with each other.

"Ah. Actually, I am watching my figure. The new season is just around the corner, but thank you. I must be running."

"Lestat," Daniel grabbed his wrist. "Don't."

"Respectfully," Lestat said, slipping his wrist out of Daniel's grasp before pinching his fingers between his own and pulling his arm taut across the table. "You've your own business to mind, don't you?" He bent to place a kiss on the back of Daniel's hand, like he was some kind of grand dame, his eyes turning wickedly devious. "Armand? Who's never missed a day of work in the last five years…"

As Daniel scrambled for a response — any response at all, Lestat made his escape, the bell above the door chiming before Daniel could get a single coherent thought to form. And then, when at last one came to him, it came in the shape of Armand.

Daniel wondered if he'd be up yet.

 

---

 

“Told you we’re too early. We’re gonna look desperate.”

“Better desperate than liable to be late on rent, sis.”

Claudia crossed her arms, chewing the inside of her cheek and kicking her mary jane shoe out in front of her, inspecting the patent leather for dirt.

“I didn’t mean to let you out into a puddle.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

She saw Louis straighten up out of the corner of her eye and followed his line of sight to a woman walking up the path in a smart blue blazer and matching pencil skirt.

“Think that’s her,” Louis muttered, holding his hand up and waving. “Mrs. Cochran?” he called, quite a bit louder, quite a bit less Creole, Claudia noted.

The woman got a little closer before she answered with an uncertain “…yes?”

“Louis? We just spoke on the phone.”

“Oh! Yes. I’m sorry, where is my head today?” She laughed a bit harder than necessary, Claudia thought. Flustered. She tucked her purse up under her arm and extended her hand for him to shake. “And you must be Claudia?”

Claudia stuffed her indignation down deep and smiled pretty, stepping in line to shake the woman’s hand next.

“That’s right.”

“Well, I hope you had no trouble finding the place,” Mrs. Cochran said, digging into her purse for a ring of keys.

“Very difficult to find parking, but it seems I’ve arrived just in the nick of time. Bonjour!”

Claudia’s hand remained raised in the air long after Mrs. Cochran had let it go. She turned slowly to see Lestat bouncing down the sidewalk towards them.

“You must be the landlady?” he went on, placing a large hand on Claudia’s shoulder and extending the other around her to follow suit in shaking the woman’s hand.

Mrs. Cochran shuffled her bag and keys around to reach out.

“Oh yes, bonjour,” she said, her voice having climbed a giggly octave.

“Lestat de Lioncourt.”

“And what is your…relation?”

“Cousin,” Louis supplied.

“I live not too far away, so I have offered to tag along during the hunt.”

Claudia glanced at Louis, saw the just-barely-contained look of annoyance on his face and took a deep breath. There was nothing to be done here but to go along, she figured.

“I thought it’d be helpful to have someone local, who knows the city,” she explained coolly, seeing that Louis was also thinking better of blowing Lestat’s cover.

“Oh. I see. Well, are we ready to go up?”

The building was a three-floor walkup, the corner of a line of freshly-painted brick rowhouses. Mrs. Cochran opened the door and gestured for their odd family to step inside first. Even with the landlady at her back, Claudia felt the need to school her face. It was perfect. A cozy living room with built in shelves, a large dormer breakfast nook, what looked like a brand-new kitchenette. Crown moulding around the ceiling even, all painted over in a solid white that spoke to poor understanding of a building’s character but the character shined through nonetheless.

“Charming!” Lestat called out behind her. “If a bit small.”

“Saves on heating and cooling,” Mrs. Cochran countered. “Very cozy in the winter.”

Louis strolled ahead, fingertips tracing the shelves as if inspecting for dust. “I thought utilities were included in the rent.”

“Oh-” Mrs. Cochran started.

“No, that was the one we looked at yesterday,” Lestat lied casually.

“Well I can assure you the cost is quite reasonable for this unit,” Mrs. Cochran brushed off.

“The stove is electric, I assume?” Lestat asked. “In old buildings like this it seems the safer option.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Cochran answered, turning towards the stove to demonstrate.

Lestat took the opportunity to catch Claudia’s eye and tilt his head. Like a dog waiting for a command, she thought, amusing herself. A French poodle.

Still, she gave him a quick nod of confirmation. She watched as he then caught Louis’ attention over her shoulder and nodded again.

“The refrigerator and microwave are brand new as well.”

“Par for the course in this neighborhood, I suppose," Lestat muttered.

"Don't knock the new appliances," Louis played at pushing back. "Beats plaster in cracks."

"Well, fortunately the foundation is sound," Mrs. Cochran shot back.

"Well it ought to be," Lestat said, opening the door to the oven and bending at the waist to peer inside. "A community rooted in culture and tradition is what brought up this neighborhood. It's been such a shame to see it lacquered over in matte eggshell to appeal to the most boring of the upper middle class."

Claudia shot him a look as he stood back upright, flinging the door closed again with the flick of his wrist. He gave her a shrug and twirled off to inspect the baseboards next.

"If the choice in wall color isn't to your liking, of course, we could negotiate that. As long as you aren't planning to paint it electric yellow or anything absurd like that."

"Anything but off-white Raglanite," Lestat muttered under his breath, forcing Claudia and Louis both to cover for him with a quick stumbling over one another.

"Paint colors aren't-"

"It's not urgent-"

"We've got a lot more to consider before… wall colors," Claudia finished.

In any case, it was clear Mrs. Cochran was feeling quite a bit more desperate to keep their interest than when they'd first met on the sidewalk.

Louis crossed his arms and let out a sigh. "Well, Claudia… I can tell you like it, but I've gotta be honest, the one we saw yesterday is looking like a better fit in terms of proximity to campus."

"Not to mention, it's a good $90 cheaper in monthly rent," added Lestat.

"Perhaps," Mrs. Cochran interjected, sweeping to the dining table and setting her purse down before pulling out a chair, "we should all sit down a moment and discuss rent flexibility?"

They lasted a whole ten steps after rounding the corner in the opposite direction from where they'd parted ways with Mrs. Cochran before the three of them burst into a fit of laughter.

"'A community rooted in culture and tradition?'" Louis mocked. "Like I didn't have to explain to you everything that was wrong with Raglanomics. You nearly voted for the man."

"Oh, don't tell me that!" Claudia cried, holding her side.

"Yes, well, my privilege left me ignorant, but of course, I had Louis to school me."

"The bit about plaster in the cracks made her look nervous, Uncle Lou. You'd think we were buying the place…"

"It would have to be noted on the property history regardless," Louis stopped, leaning against a lamppost to catch his breath. "She probably plans to collect rent a while and then sell once people realize the neighborhood's lost its flavor."

"A stitch in your side, mon cher?"

"Yeah," Louis said with a nod. "Hungry. Skipped breakfast this morning and laughing that hard's got me all…"

Claudia was feeling a bit peckish herself, in fact. She observed the two of them, the goddamned doofy way Lestat looked holding himself back from fawning over Louis, from chastising him for missing a meal.

Oh, what the hell..

"Y'all wanna get lunch, then?"

 

---

 

"He's in his office, now," Santiago informed him with a smirk and a wrist-flick in the direction of the door before Daniel could even ask. "Looks a lot more worse for wear than you did this morning. You must've worn him out. Poor thing, he's not used to it. Of course, he didn't indulge me with any details, but if you'd like to, I'm all ears." He spun his chair away from the desk, closing the logbook he'd been writing in and turning his eyes up at last.

"Heard you finished my book," Daniel said, giving him a caddish grin as he stepped backwards to the office door. "I want a full report next time I see you."

"Oh, homework… Yes, teacher," Santiago purred.

Daniel whirled around, rapping his knuckles on the door and finally letting the Casanova act drop. What waited on the other side required a wholly different Daniel.

"Come in."

Armand's voice was faint on the other side, bringing him some relief that even if Santiago were to leave his post and press his prying ears to the door, he might not be able to hear if they kept their voices down.

Still, he didn't think it wise that they do any of their heavy talking here. It was past the lunch hour and Daniel suspected Armand likely hadn't taken his since he'd had such a late start to the day.

"Daniel," Armand greeted. His hair was a halo of untamed curls, the skin under his eyes in shadow. He looked a little gaunt and haunted.

"Hey." A dramatic blubbing bubble rose from the water cooler in the room and caught Daniel's attention. "You, uh… get your watering in yet today?"

"I'd nearly forgotten. Just had some about ten minutes ago."

"Good."

Daniel closed the door behind him and gingerly made his way to the chair on the other side of the desk. He pulled it out for himself and sat.

Armand seemed nervous. As Daniel thought he damn well should be. But his eyes were locked on Daniel's and though he hesitated to broach the subject of the previous night, it was there on the tip of his tongue. Like Daniel could see it when his lips parted.

"How did you sleep, Daniel?"

"Got as much as I need. You?"

Armand laughed a little. "You see the glowing results of my night's rest right in front of your eyes."

Shrugging, Daniel tamed the grin threatening to stretch his mouth. "Sounded like you were well on your way when I hung up."

Armand scanned his eyes to the door, the corner of his own mouth tugging. "Yes. Well, sleep came easy, but it was fitful."

"Yeah, same on my end. Look-"

"Not here," Armand whispered.

Of course not.

Daniel nodded. "Think you can take an hour?"

"I run the show here, I can take whatever I need. Santiago's already cross, I don't see what difference it makes."

Daniel leaned over the desk and gave him a wink. "I think he's jealous."

It'd been a gamble, but just as Daniel hoped, a little flirtation seemed to put Armand at ease. He relaxed into his seat and resolutely squared his shoulders.

"I've just one phone call to make but I can offload it to him."

"Yeah. Good. Then we can see about lunch."

Armand's stomach growled at the very mention. "Lunch? I'm not at all fit to-"

"We don't have to go anywhere, don't worry." Daniel left him with a stretch of a few seconds in which to relax before adding, "I was thinking lunch at yours."

 

---

 

Lunch at his.

Armand had never played host before and these were not the ideal circumstances for it, but he could not help the way it thrilled him.

He was in trouble, of course. Perhaps the biggest trouble he'd ever been in, he was not sure, but Daniel had called him last night. He'd bid him to watch, turned his restless anxiety into a numbing, tranquil haze, and unless Armand was wrong about the man, he did not think Daniel meant to trick him.

The track for the door's chain was still attached to the chain itself, dangling and knocking against it as Armand let them in. He'd get around to repairing it that evening, he thought. So long as he wasn't being bamboozled here. So long as Daniel meant what he said about not wanting to get the police involved.

"I haven't got much here-"

"S'alright," Daniel said, moving past him and walking confidently to the kitchen as though the brief time he'd spent in the apartment the previous night had made him comfortably at home in it. "I'm feeling nostalgic."

Armand made quick work bolting the door shut again and catching up to him. He found him standing with the door to the freezer hanging open.

"Not a lot of options, I'm afraid."

Plucking two of the pies out and turning to Armand, Daniel shrugged. "Which one's your favorite?"

Armand pointed to the chicken pie.

"Classic."

Daniel turned to shut the freezer, tossed the things on the counter, and set about searching the kitchen for god only knew what.

"You can just put them in the microwave," Armand explained. "I only have the one plate, but there's a bowl they can fit in as well and-"

"I'm not microwaving these, Armand. We're gonna cook them in the oven like well-adjusted adults. Like Ma used to make 'em." Daniel bent to open the oven door, making a slight disgruntled sound when he spotted the box of sink faucets Armand had been storing in there. He pulled it out and set it on the floor before kicking it with his foot and sending it sliding to the far corner of the room and out of his way. He closed it back up again and bent over the range to scrutinize the knobs. "Gas?"

"Yes. But I never-"

Too late. Daniel was playing with the knobs, setting the oven to pre-heat. "Suppose if there's a leak, we'll find out, then."

The shame of this display wasn't lost on Armand. He knew, of course, that he was quite capable of maintaining an appliance, a hospitable living space and that this wasn't his best showing. His pride, typically, was wrapped up in the habitats of his tenants, not his own.

But he'd never had a guest until Daniel.

"Microwaves cook the love out. That's what my mother always said."

It was difficult not to feel observed. The shock from the previous night had barely worn off and here they were again, in Armand's home, his very private way of living not only exposed, but held up under Daniel's casual microscope.

"You got a pan or something I can set these on?"

Armand shook his head.

Daniel swept them aside and jumped up to sit on the counter, his legs dangling. "Oh well. Guess it's no big deal if they drip. Your oven could probably use a cleaning, anyway."

"I only use it for storage."

"Yeah, I see that."

Armand felt awkward standing in the center of his kitchen. He wove his fingers together in front of him and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"So here's the thing," Daniel began, sympathy radiating off of him, likely at the sight of Armand and his clear discomfort despite how he tried to cover it. "I need to think some, still, about how I'm gonna deal with knowing everything I know, now. But in the meantime, I think it might help if you walk me through some of it. I wanna know how you set it up. I wanna know where you've got cameras in this building and I want to know who you've been watching the closest. Most of all, I want to try to understand."

Blinking, Armand nodded. His anxiety still thrummed along in his veins, but he breathed slow and steady and he listened.

"Because I like you, right? I mean that. And I wanna keep liking you. But you're going to have to help me with that part."

Yes, of course, anything…

"I can try."

Daniel made a face suddenly. "Eugh. That's a smell."

Armand cocked his head, then it hit him. "Oh…"

"Not a gas leak, at least. When's the last time you cleaned this thing?"

He wouldn't have been able to remember if his life depended on it, so he shrugged. "I can say with confidence that I have not used it to prepare food of any kind in at least three years. Oh dear."

Black smoke began to billow out around the door and Armand rushed towards it.

"Oh shit." Daniel hopped from the counter and put himself between Armand and the oven door before he could reach it. "Stand back, okay?"

Armand took a step back and watched Daniel crack the door open, catching a face full of noxious smoke. Choking, he let the door slam shut again and quickly scrambled to turn the thing off, holding his shirt up over his nose and mouth.

"Well… So much for tasting the love."

"The microwave, then?" Armand asked hopefully.

It went much faster in the microwave anyhow. Armand ceded the bowl to Daniel and balanced his pie on the divided heart-shaped plate. He only had tap-water to offer him in lieu of the juice Daniel had polished off, and at Daniel's insistence, they made themselves comfortable side by side on Armand's mattress with their legs pulled up beneath them. Luckily, the terrible smoke had cleared out in a matter of minutes with the hopper windows cracked, and though there was still a faint chemical smell hanging in the air, Armand was almost grateful for it. He imagined, just like in any home, there were probably many very personal and human smells he'd grown blind to spending his nights here.

"You're sure you wouldn't rather have the fork?" Armand asked again.

"Spoon suits me fine," Daniel answered, blowing on the bite hovering in front of his lips. "You seem to be real particular about these things. I'm not."

"Oh."

Armand watched him taste the pie, waiting for his verdict as he chewed and realizing, quite quickly, that Daniel wasn't nearly as impressed with the Freezer King brand turkey pot pie as he was.

He took a bite of his own, savored, swallowed. "I do think the chicken one is best," he said, almost apologetically.

"We gotta get your oven up and running. How do I-"

"Ah… Let me." Armand set his plate on the floor and took the remote from Daniel. "One at a time, maybe? So as not to overwhelm…"

Daniel scoffed. "Sure. Not to 'overwhelm.'"

Armand sighed. This sort of vulnerability was even harder when one wasn't feeling threatened into it. "I can imagine your trepidation. If you were to see something, for instance, that crossed a line for you…"

"Just pick one and turn it on, Armand."

Alright…

He decided to start with Luchenbaum. The wild-haired little man was in the kitchen, preparing himself a midday cup of tea. Armand's eyes scanned to Daniel who seemed unmoved.

"Mostly, it is like this," he felt compelled to explain. "Just people living their lives."

"Show me another."

"Is there anyone in particular you'd like to-"

"Nope," Daniel cut him off. "I'm not gonna implicate myself like that. Just pick something."

Armand supposed Daniel wanted to see camera feeds of tenants who were home. There were a few safe bets, there. The first that sprang to mind was Madeleine. She'd likely be working away at her little sewing table and Daniel had likely already caught a gimpse of her in her bed the prior night. He flipped the monitor wired to her cameras on and found her living room empty, sheer curtains blowing in dramatically from her open balcony.

"Miss Eparvier," he said. "Likely stepped out for a cigarette."

And just like that, she was stepping back in. She wore a wraparound lavender housedress and her feet were bare. Her hair was pinned behind her ears but otherwise loose. She pulled her chair out from her sewing table and took a seat.

"You watch her a lot?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, yes. After Louis and Lestat, she was my favorite."

Daniel filled his mouth with another bite of the pie that clearly did not impress him and shook his head. "'Til I came long," he said through gravy and crust.

"Right. She… ah, I suppose I'll just show you." Armand clicked through to her bathroom so that Daniel could see her elaborate bath set-up, the tray of dripped and intentional colorful wax, the pillars of the candles that had helped to make it jutting up from it, the plush shag rug outside the large clawfoot tub.

"I see…" Daniel said, clearly reserving his true thoughts.

Feeling a little panicked and in the dark, Armand continued on. "It's very sensual with her. It's clearly the most relaxing part of her day and I admire that. It relaxes me to watch her."

Daniel coughed into his curled fist and then beat his chest a time or two. "Yeah. Uh…. and it's nothing to do with that thing sitting on the sink counter?"

Armand followed the point of Daniel's finger and saw that Madeleine's vibrator had been left to dry on a folded hand-towel by the sink.

"Well, it's not water-proof. She uses her hands when she-"

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Madeleine was stepping into the room, lifting the lid of the toilet and bunching up her skirt.

"Gah!" Daniel made an inarticulate noise as he lifted the back of his arm to cover his eyes. "Quick! Change it!"

Armand fumbled with the remote, dropping it to the floor and causing the back to come off and the two AA batteries to roll out. "Damn!" He scrambled to chase them with his fingers and replace them before pointing the device at the screen and simply turning it off. "Sorry. I didn't think-"

"Safe to look?"

"Safe."

Daniel lowered his arm and stared at the wall of gray screens. He turned his head Armand's way, slowly and with a look that was hard to decipher. Maybe incredulity, maybe amazement. Perhaps both.

"I didn't think she would need to-"

"Do you get off on that? I mean… is bathroom stuff part of it?"

Armand was caught quite unprepared by the question. There was nuance missing. A lot of it.

"No, Daniel. Not… not exactly."

Daniel cackled. "Okay, you're gonna have to explain a bit more."

"Bathing and showering, I find soothing. Sometimes erotic, sometimes it's a simple admiration for the human body that drives me."

"Come on. You know what I'm really getting at here. Do you watch the toilet stuff?"

Armand picked his plate back up, resting it on his thigh and lifting his fork back out of it with another heaping bite to illustrate that perhaps now was not an appropriate time.

"Just because we're eating doesn't mean you're getting out of answering the question."

Armand shoved the bite in to buy himself a little time. Chewed, chewed some more, and swallowed. "I don't find that part titillating for the reasons you seem to be imagining."

"Break it down for me, then."

"Of course there can be a thrill seeing something so private. It doesn't need to be sexual."

"That's fucked."

Armand couldn't see how it was any worse than watching a person masturbate or have sexual relations with another person.

"I watch everything Daniel. I rarely avert my eyes."

"Yeah, I'm sure you've built up a major tolerance. I mean… Jesus, have you ever seen anything crazy? Like a crime?"

"I watched as you were tied to a bed and robbed."

"No, I mean like… some Back Window shit? Anyone ever do anything that beats your peeping tom shtick?"

It was confronting to hear that Daniel had set the standard using his own harmless crimes. He could feel himself becoming a little defensive.

"Severed head?" he countered. "No. Nothing like that. I suppose the most scandalous thing I ever witnessed was Lestat and Eglee's little slip-up."

"Shit, I hadn't even considered you were watching your employees, but of course you are."

"Not any longer. I can only split the feeds so many ways—"

"So the nursery monitor up there is a desperation thing and not just for extra creepy effect?"

Armand followed the line of Daniel's gesturing with his spoon to the small white plastic monitor sitting atop the right corner of the stack.

"One of my failed devices proved unfixable and I had to make do with what I could find at the Pick and Save, yes. I don't like to buy new things," Armand reminded him.

Daniel didn't respond, seeming to turn something over in his head if its thoughtful tilt was any indication.

"Further sacrifices were necessary after Lestat moved into a new unit. Eglee no longer made the cut."

"Shocked you let her go."

Armand cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Well…" Daniel poked around his pie with his spoon as if he suddenly found its contents more interesting than the conversation. "I mean, with her line of work, I figured there'd be a lot of interesting stuff happening in her apartment."

"Her clientele are not…" Armand stopped, recalibrated. "I do have some preferences. It's often a certain type of older, influential man who likes to cede control to the likes of Eglee. Important men with wives and children and plenty of wealth to cover their tracks. It might be a scandalous thing to consider, but as far as enjoyability goes…"

He hoped that covered it. He could see from Daniel's expression that he was choosing to move past it, whether he bought it or not.

"And Santiago?" he asked.

Armand laughed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not. He's attractive, right?"

Of course he was. Armand could agree with that.

"Santiago leaves precious little about his activities to the imagination in our daily check-ins," Armand explained. "If there’s a stone yet unturned there I’d hate to see what crawls out from under it."

It made Daniel laugh and Armand swelled a little at the sight.

"’He's attractive,’"Armand repeated, feeling bold.

"I don't know. I could see, maybe if I was drunk or high or- I don't know, I could see it being something I wouldn't necessarily chicken out of if I met the guy at a bar or something."

He felt a grimace come over his face, one he couldn't help and that he feared would cost him some of the sparing dignity he had left.

"Sorry, is that weird?"

Of course he knows it's weird.

"I just meant if I didn't know anything about the guy. You know, he's got charm."

"As much charm as the wad of hair I snaked from Lestat's drain two months ago."

That made Daniel laugh again, even harder this time, and Armand couldn't help joining in. Had it been that funny? But then he imagined it, that wad of blond hair and slime and yes… It really had. Much funnier, however, when there was someone to share it with.

“Well, you’re not hot and bothered over the tinkerer up there, are you?”

“Luchenbaum?” Armand scrunched his nose up at the thought.

“I was about to ask if he has a bathtub cam too, but I think you’ve just answered the question.”

Luchenbaum had been a fixture in the building longer than Armand had even lived in it. A kind man, if absentminded to a fault. Always a hard candy in his pocket for the boys.

"It would be like peeking in on one's uncle," Armand told him.

“Alright I will make a request then. Who else is on here for non-’sensual’ reasons?”

Armand thought for a moment. It wasn’t a difficult question to answer. Admittedly the roster of tenants who he found especially alluring had been narrowed down to a more select few over the years. Yet he couldn’t help but try to reach for something that might be of more interest than a tenant doing their dishes or ironing.

“Ah!” he cried out as he switched on a monitor right-of-center and cycled through its feeds. “Albie, of course.”

“Of course,” Daniel repeated, but with a lightness in his mocking that didn’t grate too hard on Armand’s nerves.

It took a few tries and some close watching but he finally spotted the tuxedo cat where he lay camoflagued against a black and white blanket bunched up on the sofa.

“Right there.”

“Oh hey little guy,” Daniel laughed out. “Didn’t think we could have pets here.”

“You most certainly cannot,” Armand agreed. “Romaine has been very careful to hide him during my maintenance calls.”

“You can’t find another way to bust him?”

“I admit I don’t care to catch him at this point. Albie can be excellent entertainment. A conscientious tenant, really, he caught the first mouse of the fall season last year and so alerted me to where I needed to set traps.”

“How do you know the cat’s name?”

“Sorry?” Armand asked, snapping out of his fond memories of the hunt he’d been privileged to witness.

Daniel looked concerned. “You said you only had mics in two apartments. So, if Romaine keeps the cat hidden, how do you know its name?”

“I don’t, actually,” Armand admitted. “I’ve just given him a name in my head. A friend from long ago. Albinus. He had a similar temperament.”

"A childhood friend?"

Armand nodded before finding himself quite busy toggling through cameras to follow Albie's path after he jumped down from the sofa.

"Alright. We don't have to talk about that, I suppose."

"Ah, lost him." Armand clicked that monitor off and dropped the remote between them, turning his attention back to Daniel who hummed and looked down at the bowl in his lap.

His head hung between his stooped shoulders before turning Armand's way, as if he were about to let him in on a secret just for him in a room full of people.

Armand inclined his own head towards him, eyes on his lips, waiting for him to speak. Maybe for him to say something that made the base of his spine get hot, something to excite him.

"I really don't wanna finish this thing," Daniel said finally, lifting his spoon from the half-eaten pie and letting a wayward pea drip from the end of it. "I hope you're not too offended."

Of course that was a slight let-down, but only because Armand had allowed himself to get his hopes up that what Daniel said next would be a little sultrier.

Still, he smiled. "It's alright. I could tell."

"And now I've left you with just one more and no juice."

"That's dinner sorted out, then. Tomorrow, I'll go shopping."

"What about breakfast?"

"I'll be alright, Daniel. Really, it's no worry."

"See, I was thinking…" He turned his body a little more, raising his bent leg up to rest between them on the mattress, his sneaker dangling off the edge. "Maybe tonight we could get you out of here a while. Get some fresh air and something deep-fried and indulgent."

"You're proposing another dinner date?" If it sounded like he could quite believe it, that was because he couldn't. "So soon?"

"Why not? This place probably needs to air out a bit still and maybe, if you're alright with the idea, you could stay over. On my couch, if that's all you're comfortable with. Maybe we can go shopping together tomorrow and I can broaden your horizons a bit."

There were a lot of things Daniel had said just then and they'd all come so fast. He wanted to go out again tonight. He proposed Armand staying the night, which… well, that would be an impossibility so soon. Not that the idea wasn't appealing, just that he wasn't ready. He'd never- Not since…

"Sorry, maybe I should've breadcrumbed that out a bit, you look half-scrambled…"

Daniel's concern, too, was a lot to take onboard.

"Dinner tonight, and then…"

"I mean, you don't have to take me up on the couch offer, I just figured since we don't know what we burned in the bottom of that oven and it still smells a bit-"

"Dinner, I can do. The rest, I'd need more time, I think."

"Does it make you nervous to be away? Are you worried someone might wander down here and get past the door somehow?"

He supposed it did, but all he chose to offer Daniel was a slight shrug and a smile. "I hope you can settle for whatever your plans were for dinner."

As if the prospect were enough to brighten him back up, Daniel leaned back on his palms and grinned. "You ever been to the pier?"

Armand smiled in surprise at the suggestion.

“Of course I’ve been to the pier. I did grow up here.”

Daniel held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright. You’ve never been bowling, I don’t want to make assumptions.”

“You are quite fixated on the bowling, aren’t you?”

“Maybe that’s the next date.”

“Afraid to give me a night off?” Armand asked slyly.

Daniel’s eyes widened and Armand realized he’d taken the accusation more seriously than it was intended.

Armand quickly changed lanes: “Have you ever been to the pier, Daniel?”

“Nah, just saw it from a distance on my first drive around town, but in my experience where there’s a ferris wheel there’s an opportunity to buy a corndog.”

“I suppose, in that case, I could show you around.”

 

Chapter 15: he'll be the mouse

Summary:

After a dreamy date at the pier, Armand takes Daniel somewhere he's never been before

New Graven Pier's boardwalk was an impressive little embellishment on the horizon. It boasted 1.5 miles of walkable fun and they were going to hit it just before sunset when it lit up like Christmas. They parked in the massive lot and Daniel found a yellow streamer in his trunk, leftover from his 33rd birthday when his friends decorated his car to embarrass him on his ride down to the bar, and tied it around the antennae.

"What's that for?" Armand asked inquisitively.

"So we can find the hunk of junk again when we're ready to leave."

Already, they could smell fried batter in the air. The golden hour radiated warmth through Daniel's leather jacket and the blacktop glittered with refracted light as they crossed it. Daniel shrugged his jacket off and slung it over his shoulder, hooked by his finger. He glanced at Armand beside him in his jacket and vest.

"You want me to hang onto your suit jacket while it's still a little warm?"

"Oh…"

"I don't mind being a coatrack for a while."

Armand slipped his jacket off while they continued to walk towards the gate and held it out in front of himself as if to inspect. Curiously, Daniel watched him brighten at an unspoken idea before he slid it around his waist and tied it in front of his hips by the sleeves.

"Isn't that clever," he said, almost to himself.

"It's going to wrinkle," Daniel warned.

"Would you mind a bit of wrinkling?"

He laughed. "No. Of course not."

"Then I don't suppose I do, either."

Daniel thought he'd let him have the last word on that, despite how he might've brought up the fact that Armand made him wait for ten whole minutes in his apartment while he finished fussing with his hair in the bathroom to illustrate just how much he minded his appearance.

The wind at the top of the ferris wheel would have all his work undone in a matter of seconds, besides. But Daniel wanted to let him find that out for himself, see how it flustered him maybe.

Past the threshold of the gate, Armand stopped them, unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and rolled them up his arms, refastening them there and showing off his attractive forearms. Daniel wished he something to try and top that, a pack of smokes to tuck into his own white shirtsleeve, but he was at a loss. He'd finished the pack that morning and hadn't had the time to buy more.

"We'll have to purchase tickets for rides and concessions," Armand informed him, reaching for his hand to tug him along.

The line for the ticket stand was long, but it moved quickly. Daniel had just enough time while they waited to contemplate what he was doing. Was this just a big distraction?

Well, yes…

But it was a necessary one, he thought. If he was gonna keep letting himself get closer to falling for this guy, he needed a little dissonance. Compartmentalization had its purposes, after all, and not all of them were unhealthy. Dr. Horton had said so, himself, though Daniel hadn't wanted to hear it at the time. If he'd had it his way, the man never would've known about The Devil's Minion. He'd played a clever trick during one of their private sessions, once, sneaking a peek at the man's clipboard. 'Repressed homosexuality'…

Sometimes it took the passage of time to realize you'd sold yourself your own bullshit. Maybe Dr. Horton hadn't been such a bad guy. Maybe Daniel's attraction to men hadn't been a byproduct of the drugs, after all.

And maybe Armand was a really really sick man in need of intervention Daniel wasn't quite equipped to give. But he had to try, right? What was the alternative?

If it was a dark path Daniel was treading, he was choosing to let himself tread it. If, some day in the future, he ended up looking back on all of this with regret, well that was something Dr. Horton had taught him was okay, too. A fact of life. Regret was inevitable.

One thing Daniel could concretely imagine regretting more was not taking his chances with this man.

"Want me to hang onto them?" Daniel asked, watching Armand wind the tickets into a careful loop.

"I can be their keeper."

Looped over once so that the strand of them was halved into the length of a scarf, Armand hung them around the back of his neck so that they rested over his shoulders. He reached, again, for Daniel's hand and pointed in the direction of a carnival barker stood on a red-painted milk crate, shouting about his prizes.

"Shall we start there?"

Daniel scanned over to the little hut housing the goods one might win by 'stepping right up' and 'testing one's strength' with the ridiculously large mallet held in the closed fist of a painted, fiberglass gorilla.

"Why don't we save that one for a little later," Daniel suggested.

Armand grinned. "Worried you won't pass muster?"

'Pass muster…'

"No. I'm worried I'll knock the thing off its pole and wind up having to cart around a giant stuffed bear all night."

Armand's grin only broadened in challenge. "I think you'd have to be very strong to win one of the larger bears. You really think that's a risk?"

Daniel sucked his teeth. Yes, he knew better than to let his pride take him over. He knew Armand was setting him up. He knew all these things, and of course none of them could prevent him from finding the stupid oversized mallet in his stupid hands.

Four tickets a try. Highway robbery.

But goddamn if he didn't knock it to the top on the first try.

"Pick one out," the kid in the hut ordered and Daniel tossed a look over his shoulder to Armand who stood with Daniel's jacket folded over his arms looking incredibly pleased with himself.

"C'mon, all you," Daniel added with a beckoning nod.

"Oh, let's see…"

Armand took a few steps closer and scrutinized the hanging bunch of bears, each in their own stretched-to capacity t-shirts of varying colors. "How about the one in yellow."

The kid used his hook to take the bear down and hefted it over the counter to Daniel with a grunt.

"Thanks," Daniel said, strained with the effort of holding up the soft, limp thing. He turned and craned his neck around the bear's shoulder to get a look at Armand. "Still think your date's a weakling?"

"I definitely didn't say that."

"I oughta make you carry the stupid thing."

"I didn't say I wouldn't."

Daniel had nothing for that, of course, because Armand was telling the truth. He swung the thing around to his back, rucking it up as high as he could and clutching it's arms to to keep it in place. The sheer size of it had him walking at a partial stoop and he lead their way down the boardwalk in a silent, stubborn defeat. He could hear Armand giggling to himself from behind.

"You can take over when I get tired," Daniel said.

"Will he fit between us if we ride that?"

Daniel turned to see Armand pointing in the direction of a teacup ride. That seemed like a good start. Daniel wasn't the best with thrill rides that spin, but he could handle teacups easy. "Sure he will. Let's do it."

It was another four tickets apiece for the two of them after the ride operator made a joke about ponying up for their 'friend.' A joke which Daniel appropriately laughed off while Armand, struck indignant, began to argue against because charging an inanimate bear was an inordinate flexing of a ride operator's power.

After soothing the slightly embarrassed bruise Armand's ego had sustained from the misunderstanding, the three of them were loaded onto a powder blue teacup car, bear squeezed between their hips.

"Has he got a name?" Daniel asked.

"Berry," Armand answered, non-committal and short.

"Oh, come on, that's not very inspired."

"Well he isn't my bear, is he?"

Daniel couldn't tell if his obstinance was a result of his bruised ego or if he was being playful. "What do you mean? I won it for you, it's yours."

"No, not really. I mean… I don't have anywhere to keep such a thing."

The ride started and Daniel slid into the stuffed bear, grabbing the rail in front of him to stabilize himself again. "So you can keep it at my place. You can come over and hug him whenever you like."

Armand laughed. "Of course. I'll come over to visit him!"

"And, you know, if you wanna hug me a little, too, I think that's allowed…"

"I see…"

The cup began to spin a little and Daniel took a deep breath, hoping his empty stomach would work in his favor.

"And maybe Berry can sleep in my bed," Daniel ventured, teasing.

He could hear Armand tutting from the other side.

"Unless, of course, you'd be jealous."

"I don't believe I'm the sort."

Yeah, Daniel didn't believe that, either.

When the ride stopped, he was only mildly dizzy. It took a few stumbling steps before he caught his balance again with the shifting weight of Berry on his back.

"Was that your first time on a teacup ride, Daniel?" Armand asked, a pace ahead and turning on his heel to walk backwards while awaiting Daniel's answer.

Daniel imagined how they must look, Armand's stately figure ahead, practically gloating in Daniel's face about the extra weight he'd been saddled with. He probably looked like a real sucker and the funny thing was, he didn't mind it. Not in the least. In fact, shockingly, he was a little proud. If there was an invisible leash attached to Daniel's neck that people were gawking at, at least it was someone as enviable as Armand on the other end of it.

"No, of course not."

"You just seemed a little wobbly."

"What about you? You've been here before, what rides have you ridden?"

"Hmm…" Armand halted, letting Daniel catch up before striking his pace back up beside him. "Well, I've ridden the teacups plenty. When I was younger, when I came with my first foster family, I rode a lot of the milder rides. Well, except for the ferris wheel. That was too frightening for me."

"It's not too frightening, still, is it?"

Armand smirked at him. "Why? You had your heart set on taking me?"

You could say that…

"I mean, I get it if it's a height thing, but I did literally catch you sunbathing on the roof of our building…"

"No, I'm not frightened anymore. I doubt there's a ride here that would frighten me. I conquered most of my fears about rides in my teens coming here."

"You came here as a teen?"

Daniel knew he should tread cautiously around the subject of Marius lest he want to ruin the mood, but he couldn't help probing just a little.

"Many times. A rowdy group of young men can become quite a handful, which I'm sure you can imagine. We were often dropped off as a group."

"A group," Daniel repeated.

"Yes, a… well, a boy's group. Surely you've heard of such things. There must've been after school programs and clubs in San Casaval…"

"Yeah, of course. Sorry. I just wasn't sure what you meant. So, a whole horde of teenage boys set loose on the pier-"

"Oh, I'm sure you can imagine. We were feral."

Daniel laughed. "Sounds like it."

It warmed him a little to consider Armand as a youth, untouched by… well, whatever sort of disenchantment had lead to what he'd become. Not that Armand was cynical so much as… affected. But by what, Daniel still did not know.

"May I have Berry, Daniel?"

The way he asked seemed sudden and Daniel was caught off guard. "Yeah, sure…" He stopped, bending his knees to allow Armand to pluck the large bear from his back. "What's- Oh."

Armand had left him, Berry pressed to his belly in a hug as his long legs carried him from Daniel's side to a couple of young children, a boy and a girl looking approximately 6 and 10. He watched Armand crouch down, the bear still bunched in his arms as he spoke to the children who pointed in the direction of a woman who was stood in line at the concession stand nearby. Armand stood upright again and approached her next, the kids trailing behind him. At last, Berry was handed off to the trio and Armand came cheerfully striding back.

"I think they'll get much more enjoyment from having him around, don't you?" he asked, extending Daniel's jacket out for him to take back. "Now we can ride the ferris wheel without any barrier between us." He lifted his fingertips to his lips, suppressing a laugh. "Bear-ier…"

Daniel could've swept him up and planted one on him right then in the golden-pink glow of the setting sun.

"Shoot for the ferris wheel next, then?" Daniel asked. "Try to catch the sunset?"

Getting to the ferris wheel in time required them to sprint for it and Daniel was grateful the night was growing cooler. They spent their tickets, discounted for Armand's outfit -Daniel had to calm himself down a little after the way the operator seemed to flirt- and boarded the rocking basket.

"So you've never ridden this thing? Even when you were older with your friends?"

Armand shook his head. "They were a little wilder about the opposite sex than I was at that age. I was always the one left to hold soda bottles and funnel cakes while they rode with girls."

"You were a late bloomer?"

"Hah…"

His response struck Daniel as clammy, so he pressed on, changing the subject. "Was, uh… Was Albie in that boy's group with you?"

"Yes. Albie, Cash, Ricki… We were a very tight knit crew of young ruffians."

"'Young ruffians'… I'll bet."

The basket edged back and they rose a little for the preceding basket to be loaded.

"I once distracted a man while Ricki picked his pocket so we could buy more tickets to ride the bumper cars," Armand admitted. "Perhaps my most serious offense at that age. I couldn't sleep for weeks imagining what might happen if we were found out."

"You were really that worried?"

"Oh, I felt there were eyes on me everywhere I went at that age. Always worried I'd be in trouble for this thing or that."

There was a lot to unpack there, but Daniel mentally snatched up a thread he’d caught on just hours ago. ‘I don't like to buy new things’ Armand had told him again, as though it should obviously be the case for his cameras as well. Could that mean the system had been in place before Armand became its keeper? If he hadn’t created it, hadn’t planned it himself, was that any better? If he had only maintained it…

…and exploited it for his own satisfaction.

No, there was no easy path there to clearing Daniel’s conscience. The question wasn’t a dead end, exactly, but it didn’t hold up as worth his attention against the feeling of Armand pressed close to his side right there and then.

They went up higher, the sweet smell of leaves from the early-blooming trees in a strip of planters behind them wafting about their heads. The wind had begun to hit them and Armand was fiddling with the arms of his suit jacket around his waist, lifting and rocking the basket some to pull it free.

"Steady, now," Daniel said, showing his nerves as he reached out for the bar that crossed over their knees. "You getting cold?"

"It's a bit chilly now, yes…" Armand tugged it on, smoothing out the arms where they'd creased.

Daniel took his leather jacket from where it was piled up next to him on the seat and placed it around Armand's shoulders.

"What about you?"

"You kidding? I haven't stopped sweating from the jog to get here…"

Armand sidled in closer to him, ducking for his arm to go around the back of the basket and bracket him in.

"Bumper cars, huh?" Daniel asked. "Now there's a couple of words that'll send a shiver down a 35 year old spine."

"They were awfully rough, weren't they?"

"Worth committing a petty crime over?"

Armand hummed. "Well, I also got a gold-plated watch out of it."

"How'd you manage that?"

"Ricki used the leftover tickets we'd bought with the man's money to win it for me. I treasured it all day."

Daniel dared to tug him in closer, grasping his upper arm through the leather. The sweat-sheen on his skin had dried and now the cool air of the darkening evening was making gooseflesh spring up. "What happened? You lose it on the Rock-O-Wheel?"

"Oh, no, I… I kept it safely around my wrist all day until we were collected. It was confiscated."

"What, by the people running the group?"

Armand sighed. "Oh, Daniel, it's really not so interesting a story."

"What, did someone rat on you for pinching the guy's wallet?"

"No, of course not. I suppose if there was a rat among us, it would have been me. But at this point I had not been so conditioned to the rules."

The rules…

"What age was this, exactly?"

"Hush, Daniel. We're missing the sunset."

Daniel hushed and found himself rewarded by a pair of hands pressing on his thigh over his jeans, one laid over the other. The wheel began to move forward, finally, all the baskets filled. They rode the rotation around, sinking into the boardwalk grounds and then rising back up above them, the horizon made visible every time they crested it. The lights blinked on across the boardwalk, casting a warm glow all around and making them both gasp.

"Guess we really timed it right, huh?" Daniel asked.

"It's sensational. I love carnival lights."

They went round and round and then the ride froze and began to rotate backwards.

"There's a lot of new stuff," Armand said, scanning over the layout, turning a little in the basket to look behind them. "A lot of stuff that wasn't here when I used to come."

"Anything calling out to you?"

Armand righted himself in his seat again, replacing a hand on Daniel's thigh and drawing his attention back to it, to Armand's heat. He took his hand from his ear and placed it on top of Armand's.

"Oh, you're icy!" Armand cried. "Let me give you your jacket back."

"Nah, keep it. It's just cause we're going up so high."

Unsurprisingly, Armand didn't fight him on that, but he did nestle closer. "Can we get food next?"

"Yeah. Of course. Saw a corndog stand right by the ferris wheel line."

"Oh, what's that? That's new…"

Daniel caught sight of what he was pointing to just before it disappeared behind the stands and rides in front of them, just as the ride hitched and began to slow.

"Looked like an old school Tunnel of Love."

"Tunnel of Love?" Armand asked. "Oh, like in Acquaintances on an Airplane?"

Naturally, if Armand hadn't been ready to ride ferris wheels with girls last time he'd been here, it followed that he wouldn't have found his way into the Tunnel of Love, either.

"Yeah, it's a ride where you take a little boat through a dimly lit tunnel. There's usually music playing and some things to look at, but I don't think most couples go in there to appreciate the scenery, if you catch my drift."

"Oh. Really? So it's only for couples?"

Daniel shrugged, once again grabbing for the bar over their knees as the operator jerked the ride to a stop to let another basket off. "Not exclusively, but that's the idea."

"Well, it sounds like they're asking to have teenagers get up to business in there, doesn't it?"

Daniel was amused that that was Armand's takeaway. "I mean, sure, yeah, it's like a time-honored tradition. But adults get up to 'business' in those little boats, too."

"But you get to ride on the water?"

"Yeah. Looked like it."

"I want to do that…"

Their basket jerked again and Daniel's nerves spiked, his voice cracking a little with it even though they were being lowered closer to the ground with every pull of the lever. "What happened to corndogs?"

"We can eat them on the way."

"Well… they do travel well…"

It was their turn to be let out of the basket, the operator's foot coming to stand on the floor and hold it steady as Daniel climbed out, turning once his feet were safely planted on the boards below him, prepared to help Armand. Only Armand was already being helped, held by the elbow as he stepped out onto the wooden platform.

"Thank you."

"Any time," the carny said with a wink.

Daniel quickly looped his own elbow through Armand's and pulled him away towards the corndog stand.

"You can't actually be concerned about him," Armand laughed. "He was just an old flatterer."

"How can you tell?"

"I can tell."

Daniel opted to let it go, securing them a place in line. "If ever there was a food that traveled," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets once Armand unlinked their arms.

"I appreciate its self-contained nature. A food you can eat with your hands that doesn't leave you messy."

"Ah, what about when you get a really hot, fresh one that leaks juice down your arm when you bite into it?"

Armand took a moment to consider. "Well, I suppose you would have to be on alert for such a thing, standing by with your tongue ready to catch any drippings."

Daniel shivered at the image that conjured for him. "Suppose you would, then."

"Daniel, let me give you your jacket back. Please."

"I'm fine."

"I saw you shudder. Here." He was already slipping the thing off and thrusting it out to him. "I'm plenty warm. This vest is wool."

Being fussed over wasn't quite in line with how Daniel saw this date going. He needed to turn these tables and soon.

"You just looked so nice with it draped around your shoulders." His corny line was rewarded with a bump of Armand's shoulder against his own and a sly smile. "Y'know," he pressed, "it was a real change of pace seeing you in your tank the other day."

"Ah." Armand's eyes darted away, his own hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. "You'd like to see me dressed down a bit?"

"I like to see you however you come. I just meant that it was sexy."

"Well I am the building's handyman, so on occasion I must be prepared to get a little scuffed up."

Daniel's fists balled in his pockets and he gave a tight nod. 'Scuffed up' was a way to put it. Daniel thought he'd looked like he could be starring alongside Buckley Burns, knocking on some housewife's door and seeing to her pipes.

"Perhaps you would like to shadow me some day," Armand said, interrupting his reverie.

"What, fixing leaky pipes or…" Daniel crowded in close, letting his shoulders rise to his ears to box in their discussion and lend them an air of privacy. He bent his lips to Armand's ear. "Are you gonna let me inside your walls, Armand?"

Armand gasped. "Oh. Well…"

"I'll let you think about it some" Daniel stepped up to the window of the vendor and ordered for the both of them. He'd regained some of his swagger with the line and he'd discovered how that energy could be bounced back and forth between them and grown between his palms like a snowball if he chose.

The effect was sustained, even after their food had been handed to Daniel through the window and he turned to pass Armand's off to him.

"Thank you," Armand said, cheeks blooming warm as he took his mobile meal.

"To tunnels," Daniel toasted. He held his dog up and knocked it against Armand's. "And to the curious creatures that scurry inside them."

A good-natured laugh slipped out in response to the affront and Armand raised his eyebrows. "Oh, am I the curious creature?"

"How does it feel to be on the other end of the microscope, babe?" Daniel asked before taking the end off his corndog in a monstrous bite that necessitated and open-mouthed chew as he left Armand behind, strolling in the direction of the Tunnel of Love.

He could hear Armand's scoff behind him, his feet shuffling on the wood as he caught up, long legs giving him an edge.

"How flattering, to be so lovingly compared to a rat."

"Who said anything about rats?" He took another massive bite, talking around the steaming hot mouthful. "You're more like… hmmm…" He swallowed, lips pulling into a grin. "More like a ferret."

Again, Armand scoffed.

"Okay, what comparison would you make?"

At last, Armand took a bite of his own corndog, demure and delicate by comparison, buying himself the time to think. It struck Daniel, watching him chew, however.

"Oh, I know…"

"A mouse," Armand got out in front of him, going as far as to speak before swallowing.

"I was gonna say a spider."

"A spider would be far more flattering," Armand conceded with a solemn nod, "but mouse is more apt a comparison. And you know what that makes you?"

"I guess 'helpless moth' no longer fits the metaphor…"

"You're the cat, Daniel."

"The cat…" He considered that. "What, because I've sniffed you out?"

"Precisely."

"Well, if that's so, then I guess I must be a real pussycat. Usually, this metaphor tips the power scale in the feline's favor."

"Not always. Consider Tim and Larry."

"So you're saying I'm the stupid one."

Armand laughed. "I only mean that you are very curious, perhaps to a fault. You are the cat, still, even if declawed."

Declawed???

"Hey, I don't like this metaphor anymore."

Armand very suddenly shoved quite a bit of his corndog into his mouth, so much that it made his cheeks puff out like a hamster's. He pointed at them as if that should get him off the hook for his slight.

"You might as well have said 'neutered,'" Daniel grumbled.

He watched Armand break away from his side, holding the rest of his dog by the stick. He approached a large trashcan, filled nearly to over-flowing, and dropped the rest of the thing into it before rejoining him.

"What the hell, man? You still had half a corndog to go!"

"I don't like the stick taste."

"Okay, so you pull the thing off and eat it that way."

Armand held his hands out as if to illustrate that he didn't want to get them greasy.

"I would've eaten it," Daniel continued his argument. "That's so wasteful! There are starving kids in-" And now he was beginning to sound like his parents. "Y'know, nevermind." He sank the last of his and swallowed his annoyance with it. "Did you get enough, anyway? Are you full?"

"The thing was huge, Daniel."

"I can get you something else. Maybe we can ask for a glove or something…"

"Daniel, I'm fine."

He supposed he'd just have to take Armand's word for it. He tossed his own stick, clean of dog, into the next bin they came upon and offered his hand for Armand to take.

"See? It would've been most unpleasant to hold my hand if I'd done what you'd suggested."

"Yeah, yeah, I see your point," Daniel forfeited.

They weren't the only same-sex pair holding hands on the pier, Daniel had counted a pair of lesbians and an elder couple of gentleman as well. He wondered if he was only noticing because he was so conscious of himself. San Casaval had a thriving gay community, but it'd been sequestered to one little burb. Here, he was seeing it just about everywhere he looked. But even if that hadn't put him at ease, Armand's lack of hesitation would. There were many things about the man that made him seem a bit uncomfortable in his own skin, but holding hands with Daniel in a public space didn't appear to be one of them.

As they approached the line, the mural painted over the loading zone became clear.

"Seems they've mixed up a few different themes," Daniel muttered.

"A naval ship?" Armand asked. "Is that meant to be romantic?"

"Sailors going off to war, sweethearts bidding them farewell… I guess so. It's the pirate ship on the horizon and the beached mermaids that have me a little confused…"

"Oh, well… mermaids are romantic."

"I thought mermaids were the thing that lured sailors to their deaths?"

Armand looked lost in thought. "Is that right? Sirens, I thought…"

"Aren't they kind of the same thing?"

"Oh, look, the boats are swans!"

"There you go. At least we can agree that swans are romantic."

"They're actually quite aggressive birds," Armand stated. "But their beauty and grace, of course, goes uncontested."

Whatever you say, beautiful…

There was a man with a large walking stick covered in hooks pacing toward them down the line. He had white sailor hats hanging from each hook on the stick and an armful of plastic, glowing bracelets. Behind him was a miserable looking teenage girl with a cashbox resting against her belly, strapped around her neck and waist.

Armand tugged on Daniel's hand and when Daniel turned to look at him he saw the pleading look.

"What, you want a sailor hat?"

"If we got a matching set…"

"They're probably overcharging because we're stuck in line and boyfriends aren't gonna want to risk cheesing their ladies off before getting inside. I bet they sell the same hat for less in the gift shop."

"But then we won't be able to wear them on the ride."

Daniel's eyes pressed closed. The man was approaching, his bellowing voice growing louder, and Daniel realized that he had no choice but to become another boardwalk statistic.

"Yeah, alright." He let go of Armand's hand to dig his wallet out of his back pocket and held his arm up in the air to hail the duo over. He bought each of them a hat, totaling $10, and reminded himself that he was a best selling author living on a cushy advance who could afford a little whimsy now and then.

"It suits you," Armand said, reaching to pull out a loop of a curl from under the cap on Daniel's head. "Very charming."

"I feel like a hopeful for the cover of Boss magazine, or something."

"Well, yes… You do have that sort of look, Daniel. I must be the envy of every homosexual here."

It felt like a genuine compliment and Daniel could feel himself blushing. He deflected. "Looks nice on you, too…"

"Thank you," Armand beamed. "I do love big ships, but I could never join the navy. They make you cut your hair."

Daniel laughed. "Oh, is that why you could never join up?"

Armand turned back to face the front of the line as it moved, as they grew closer to boarding their own swan, choosing not to take the bait.

"Well, I'm ideologically opposed to military institutions," Daniel said.

"A most convenient moral stance in times of war."

Armand's ability to give it right back to him amazed him, still, and he couldn't help a laugh. "Okay. That's fair…"

Armand stepped closer to his side, slipping their fingers back together and clutching his arm, pinning it between their bodies. "I'm only teasing, Daniel. I'd be very upset to see you shipped off in a container."

"Sweet of you."

Armand hummed as if a thought were occurring to him and Daniel nudged him.

"What's up?"

"Oh, just thinking…"

"About…?"

Pulling yet closer, Armand chuckled to himself. "Well… I was thinking it probably looks as though I'm paying for your company. You're sort of… wearing the uniform."

Daniel was so taken aback by that he wasn't sure what to say at first.

"I don't mean to insult-"

"No, I'm not insulted, I just… hadn't really thought about that. Aren't you a little too hot for people to jump to that conclusion?"

"If you only knew the amount of times Santiago's left back-page clippings from Boss magazine on my very desk."

"What a bitch," Daniel laughed. It was a little funny, after all.

"Alright, sweethearts," the operator cooed as they stepped up. His foot was anchoring a boat by the dock for them and he offered his hand to Armand first. "Careful. She wobbles."

Daniel, once again, had to let Armand go as they got themselves seated in the scuffed up, eye-patch adorned swan.

They were pushed with a pole and into the dark tunnel they went.

"Oh, it smells like…"

"Like the inside of a Spartan condom," Daniel supplied.

"Ah, yes… something like that."

"Sets the mood, I guess."

The boats were spaced so that they never had to be aware of one another. There were dim lights bolted all around the arched ceiling overhead, illuminating chipped paintings of pirates and sailors, little platforms covered in sand with barely-functioning animatronic figures every now and then, and the music that played over the speakers was soft ukulele, something familiar but nameless, that crackled and popped in their ears.

"I take it the teenagers are likely in a rush once they get in dark," Armand mused, daring to rest his cheek on Daniel's shoulder, placing a bold hand on his thigh.

"I guess there would be a sense of urgency," he agreed, trying to keep his leg from shaking as Armand's hand traveled up it.

He's not gonna… Is he?

But no, Armand's hand jumped from his upper thigh to his belly, resting there, warm through the cotton of his t-shirt.

Still…

There was a loud moan from a boat up ahead of them, bouncing back their way in the echoey tunnel and Daniel's cheeks got hotter.

"Someone's having a good time," he said, desperate to say something.

"Are you jealous?"

Hoooo boy…

"Am I- Wha-"

Armand's hand slipped under the hem of his shirt, suddenly, frying his brain and making his sputtering come to a dead halt.

"Perhaps they're just frightened of the pirates," Armand whispered. His fingernails scratched lightly over the soft stretch of belly under Daniel's navel, pinching the little bit of hair their and twisting.

Daniel's arm was trapped between them. The best he could do to return the sentiment was to place his own hand on Armand's thigh, which he felt stiffen a little, but then relax as the man sighed, tilting his face a little until Daniel felt the cool tip of his nose against his own hot neck. Armand's breath on his skin making him melt.

Horny goo, that's what he felt like, and his ability to sense the passage of time was failing him in a major way. The ride boasted seven minutes, but Daniel couldn't be sure if even one had passed or if they were on the verge of emerging out the other end. Armand's fingers were groping against his belly, traveling up, palming his chest as if he were desperate for Daniel to do something about it, but Daniel couldn't make his own impotent hand move. Not without explicit direction.

The best he could do was a squeeze, but Armand responded with a mewl in his ear. It made Daniel shudder.

"Gonna have to walk out of here with my jacket tied around my waist if you're not careful," he murmured, a warning that was part joke, part real possibility.

"Should I stop?" Armand asked, his hand pulling back from Daniel's skin, still trapped between him and his shirt.

"No."

When Armand's hand made contact again, it was over his heart, trailing down until a nail scraped over his nipple and made him jump, made them both laugh a little in surprise.

"You're quite responsive," Armand remarked. Like Daniel was a science experiment. Like Armand was discovering things. "I wonder…"

His hand rotated down, suddenly, like a planchette, and slid back over his lower belly, fingertips just breaching the top of Daniel's tight-fitting jeans.

His breath stopped short. They crested over a bump, and when they came down, there was the visible glowing light of the gift-shop exit greeting them at the end of the tunnel.

Armand retreated, adjusting himself in his seat, securing his hat back on straight and lifting Daniel's stone-stiff hand from his thigh, replacing it back in his own.

The attendants who helped them out, thankfully, seemed to know to avert their gazes and a few hazy moments later, they were stood, crowding one another in the too-brightly-lit by comparison gift-shop.

"Ah, well…" Armand made a quick move to busy himself in a rack of t-shirts, his back facing the rest of the shop, and Daniel considered that his much looser-fitting dress trousers were, perhaps, not as equipped to handle the state of arousal they'd found themselves in as Daniel's thick blue jeans.

"You want a commemorative shirt?" Daniel asked with a tease.

"I think the hats will do."

"Hey." Daniel tugged on the edge of his vest. "This is your doing…"

"I'd thought there was more time left in the ride," Armand confessed.

Daniel wanted to ask what he might've done next if there had been, but it seemed as though someone else had the same instinct to let themselves cool down by the shirt-rack.

Quickly, Daniel plucked a random shirt and trudged off to the counter, leaving Armand behind to fend for himself. It wasn't until he got to the cashier that he realized the shirt he'd grabbed was several sizes too big and had the cartoon image of mermaid's torso on it, complete with glittering seashell bra.

"This all for you, sir?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Oh, dear, that's not for me, is it?"

Daniel was startled by Armand's voice in his ear and he shrugged, handing the cash to the nice woman ringing him up. "It is now."

"I love this print," the woman said, returning Daniel's change before lovingly folding the hideous thing and placing it in a sack for them.

"Here." Daniel handed it to him as they walked out of the gift-shop. "And I'll be really insulted if I never see you in it."

"It's much too large."

"So you can wear it around your apartment."

Or mine…

Armand begrudgingly slid the handle over his arm as they walked. "I suppose it'd make a decent nightgown."

"Like I said. As long as I get to see you in it…"

Armand strode ahead, his long legs putting a sudden distance between then that Daniel had to scramble to close.

"Oh, come on. You-" He managed to catch up, pinching Armand's sleeve between his fingers to keep him from running off. He lowered his voice. "You had your hand halfway down my pants just a few minutes ago. No way I'm coming on too strong."

"I didn't say you were, I'm looking for somewhere to get water."

"Oh, shit. Is it watering hour?"

"The salt from the food has made me thirsty."

"Well I bet any of these vendors will just give you a cup if you ask."

"Ah, I don't want to annoy them."

Daniel saw an opportunity here. "Hang tight," he said, throwing him a wink and darting off, himself. He cut the line, boisterously excusing himself, exclaiming he needed water for his pregnant wife and while Armand sunk behind a cotton candy stand so as not to be associated, Daniel returned with a cone of water, victorious.

"Here. See? Nobody's paying enough attention to care."

Armand took the conical cup and stared at it.

"I mean, you can't fit both your hands around it, but I'm sure it'll still get the job done."

Looking unsure, Armand tipped the cone to his lips and emptied it, adam's apple bobbing with every gulp, making Daniel wish he'd grabbed another for himself.

"Better?"

"Much."

Armand handed the paper cone back to him and Daniel went off in search of a trashcan, spotting a fountain on his way. He stopped there to quench his own thirst and wondered as he wiped his chin on the back of his hand if Armand would've even known how to drink from a water fountain. He felt guilty for the thought, but he couldn't help the impression he got that Armand was somehow… alien to society. Not just for his peculiar -criminal, his inner voice corrected- hobby, but in just about every facet of his life. He'd been to the pier before as a youth, just like he'd been fine dining at Pompeii. There were echoes of the learned behaviors and mannerisms that helped everyone to blend and get along, but they slipped now and then. The man seemed to malfunction slightly when confronted with a cone of water. He recovered, but still… Even if a person was raised under the shelter of wealth, even if their childhood before that was rough, what blend of backgrounds would lead to… this?

Again, he felt unkind. Armand was stood, waiting for him with his hands in his pockets and an earnest smile on his face.

This man has stalked you from inside your own walls…

Yeah. But he was the mouse, right? And Daniel was the cat. Something had shifted last night upon Daniel's discovery, that couldn't be denied. Daniel had all the power. At least that was how it felt. And it seemed as though Armand had been relieved to give it to him.

"Anything else look fun?" Daniel asked. "It's getting pretty chilly, but you look so nice under the boardwalk lights I don't wanna take you home."

"Hmm…" Armand bit his lip between his teeth and glanced down at the tops of his shoes.

"What? Too corny?"

"No, I was just considering…"

"Yeah?" Daniel stuck the toe of his own boot out to tap at Armand's shoe, to bring his eyes back up. "Considering what?"

"Well, I could show you some pretty lights back at The Palazzo."

"Oh, really?"

Daniel imagined the rooftop at this hour, the cityscape lit up as far as they could see. Just as cold, colder probably at that height, but with Daniel's warm apartment just a few floors below…

Or there was his balcony, mere feet away from his couch…

"I mean, if you wanna get out of here…"

"I leave the decision entirely in your hands, Daniel. You've already shown me such a good time."

Uh huh, uh huh… Picking up what you're dropping…

"Yeah, I mean… Sure. Let's, uh… blow this joint."

Still a dickhead.

 

---

 

"Are you ready for the tight five Eglee's gonna have prepared for us when she sees we're heading upstairs together?" Daniel asked as they approached the building from the garage.

"Are we going upstairs, Daniel?"

True, Armand hadn't been explicit, Daniel had just been running on assumption.

"No, you just said lights and I assumed-" He'd just planted his foot on the first step up to The Palazzo doors, but Armand was continuing past. Perhaps down to his secret side entrance again. "Are we stopping by your apartment first? You know, I've got stuff, if you're-"

"I'm going to show you something, Daniel, but you must quiet down, alright?"

Armand was, indeed, leading them around to the side of the building where he'd disappeared the prior night. It wasn't quite the way Daniel had imagined in his dream, but close. He'd battened his lips, trailing behind the man as he pulled a set of keys from his pocket and lead them down some cement stairs to a heavy-duty door locked shut with a bolt and a chain and padlock.

"Jesus," Daniel muttered, the batten-job only getting him so far.

"It's a precaution with any building, Daniel. There are no eyes here and we wouldn't want just anyone getting inside, would we?"

Daniel considered the irony of that, but chose to try again to be quiet if that was what Armand wished.

"The chain," Armand explained as they shuffled into the dark space and he pulled it free from the handle on the other side before slipping it in with them and letting the door shut, "comes inside with me so as not to tempt anyone to try the door." He dropped it to the wayside and Daniel could hear it's heavy clinking on the concrete beneath his feet.

There was a click and suddenly the hall they were stood in was lit up by tiny, warm lights on strings, tacked up alongside the walls like Christmas.

"Oh…"

"Yes, I've wired it all up to work on a switch. Clever, right?"

"And this hall is…" Daniel pointed down to where another door, this one much more rudimentary, was blocking their way.

"Right. Beyond that door is the hall that leads to my apartment. You can access the elevator, as well, but you knew that already."

"Is that where we're going? To bypass Eglee?"

"No. You're missing something, Daniel."

They continued to walk and Armand moved ahead of him. "It's an illusion." He stopped and turned to face the wall and as Daniel closed the gap, it became suddenly clear that the hall had widened slightly and that the wall was cut away on the right-hand side. A rectangular entrance, just big enough for a person to fit through, tall enough for… Well, tall enough for Armand. But just barely. The widening of the walls had obscured it from view until they were all but standing in front of it.

"The dim light adds to the effect."

"What's the purpose-"

Armand turned his head Daniel's way and placed a quick finger against his lips. "Now is the time to be quiet. I'm going to take you into the walls. Here is where we'll leave our shoes and hang anything that could snag on the errant nail. You must follow my lead and until I tell you otherwise, you must keep your voice to a whisper. Am I clear?"

Daniel's lips wanted to kiss the pad of Armand's finger, to let the tip of his tongue out and lick, but he nodded instead. He followed Armand through the cutout entry that lead, not unexpectedly, to a dark enclosed room at the base of some really harrowing ramshackle wooden stairs.

"First things first," Armand declared. He lifted Daniel's hat off with his finger and then his own, hanging them on a row of hooks fastened to the wall. Then he slipped out of his jacket, gesturing for Daniel to do the same and those, too, went up on the hooks. They removed their shoes next, lining them up against the base of the wall. Armand grabbed a flashlight that hung right next to the miner's helmet Daniel had gifted him. "Just in case," he said, almost as if he feared Daniel's judgment. "Sometimes the lights go out."

Never mind the lights going out, Daniel was now having to contend with the fact that he'd given the man the perfect gift for his sordid pastime completely by accident. Armand locked eyes with him again, his vulnerability on full display — or perhaps played up. His lashes fluttered when he blinked and Daniel saw his lips part, tremble and hesitate, then move to whisper; "I'm only the mouse, remember?"

Again, Daniel nodded his head.

"Am I being careless?" Armand laughed a little as the last S rolled off the tip of his tongue, his whisper so faint yet so overwhelmingly loud in the still and otherwise silent space. "Is inviting the cat in the same as inviting in danger?"

Daniel wasn't sure how he should answer and Armand drew closer.

So close, his chest brushed Daniel's shoulder, his breath disturbing the curls by Daniel's ear as he whispered. "Lie to me if you must. Put me at ease, even if it's false…"

Daniel shivered at the loss of Armand's heat. Big, brown eyes twinkled his way in the fairy lights and he tried with everything in him to comprehend Armand's meaning.

"If it was a hunt, you've got me," Armand continued, his voice just above a whisper now, resigned to something, but to what? Daniel wasn't sure. "I suppose, what matters is what you do with me next."

Daniel's delayed response shook out of him when it came. "I-I guess I just don't know what you… want me to do…"

Armand cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Be the cat, Daniel."

And with that, Daniel was watching Armand's backside as he went up the narrow stairs.

'Be the cat'… And then what? Push him into a corner? Bat him around? When the cats on his grandparents' property caught mice, they didn't always kill them. Usually they'd toss them about, rough 'em up a bit and then-

Oh.

Ohhhhhh….

"Alright, we have a sharp turn coming up."

Armand had stopped, looking back over his shoulder to Daniel. "This is going to be the crawlspace behind 2C," he whispered.

2C, 2C… Who lives in 2C?

Daniel's memory was failing him. Everything beyond 'be the cat' was suddenly out of his reach. They were standing in a narrow space, just big enough for them to get toe-to-toe if they wanted. The glowing lights stretched on, connected to more by an adapter of some sort. Daniel had the urge to joke, to ask if this was up to code, but he was terrified of fucking this up.

Be the cat. Be the cat.

"There's a space like this behind every unit, some tighter than others," Armand informed him. "I'm going to take you to the crawlspace behind yours. It's going to be a trek, is that alright? You're not getting too claustrophobic?"

Daniel shook his head.

"Good."

Turning again, Armand lead him around another corner and up more stairs. The steps creaked under their weight and caused Daniel to freeze up. He observed, however, that Armand was undeterred by the sound, continuing on and leaving him scrambling to catch up, eyes ahead.

He's got a great ass, Daniel thought. And what, exactly is it he wants me to do? Grab him by it? Spank him? Shake him by the shoulders and threaten him a little?

So far, he had Armand's propensity for being a bit of a cocktease, his iciness in the face of impending physical intimacy, and a sampling of his taste in pornographic materials to go on. And he, himself, Daniel Molloy, had never been the aggressor in these sorts of circumstances. He'd always considered himself a bit of a mouse, in fact. Or a rat, maybe.

Hey now…

They rounded another corner, went up another flight of rickety stairs. In one section there was a cobbled together little set of knee-high shelves with a backup flashlight and few other odds and ends and baubles which Daniel hadn't the time to suss out the purpose of before they'd moved on.

Does he want me to fuck him? I think he wants me to fuck him… I don't have a rubber on me, but maybe he'll think it's sexy if I order him down to fetch one on his own? Is that something a person with a rape fantasy would enjoy? A tedious errand? I don't know, I don't know…

"The floor here sags, don't let it startle you. There was a burst pipe some years back and I've yet to replace the wood. We should probably go one at a time so as not to overload it."

Daniel was hardly listening. He let Armand turn and put his hands on his shoulders, stopping his momentum and holding him in place. Armand crossed the slightly rotted patch of wood first and then he beckoned to Daniel and turned again. And again, Daniel's anxious thoughts turned in his head.

Probably best just to push him against the wall, slap a hand over his mouth, and jerk him off or something… Yeah…

One more set of stairs, Daniel had lost count, and at the top of the narrow landing, Armand announced with the fullness of his silken voice, "we've arrived. Now you can be your loud, boisterous self and no one will be in danger of hearing it."

"This is the crawlspace behind my apartment?" Daniel asked, still nearly whispering.

"Yes. You see, it is much more expansive than the others. Louis' unit is the same, but there's a trick to getting into the units on the other side that I believe would raise your hair a bit too-"

"Uh," Daniel interrupted him, the unwelcome reminder of Armand's surveillance of Louis threatening to ruin the mood, "we don't have to…"

As if catching his own error, Armand smiled apologetically. "Yes. Right. Anyway, here we are."

Daniel stepped in deeper. The width of the floor was about six feet and it went on and on, a sharp corner at the end which Daniel imagined must wrap around to his bathroom. The crawlspace to Louis' unit would be beyond that. There was a standing lamp in the far corner where the passage turned and it, too, was lit up. Daniel's eyes traveled down it, to the plug and the extension cord and the home-brewed adapter. He had an uncle who worked for the fire department back in San Casaval and he wondered what he'd have to say about this. But to Daniel, it was impressive, still.

And it was so warm. He could hear the wind picking up outside, whistling, and there was a bit of a draft, but the trapped air was only stirred enough to circulate pleasantly. It wasn't so stagnant you couldn't stand the thought of hanging out.

And was that what Armand would do here? Hang out?

Under Daniel's feet was a long runner of a rug. Where it ended, another mismatched runner began.

"Newer additions," Armand explained. "To dampen sound."

"How much time have you spent in here with me on the other side of the wall?"

As if caught, Armand's face dropped. "I don't know, exactly."

"That first night I was here…"

"Yes…" Again, Armand fell to a whisper. He stood with the flashlight held between both his hands, arms in front of him looking very contrite. "You had a bath. I was there."

"Show me," Daniel demanded, at last finding his voice in this game.

"As you wish."

Armand turned and crouched to place the flashlight upright on the runner before leading Daniel down the long expanse of the crawlspace. They reached the bend and he shot Daniel a look before disappearing into it.

There was a black curtain there, tacked up to the rafters with nails, and Armand pressed his back against the wall and gathered it to the side, gesturing for Daniel to move beyond it.

What he saw on the other side made his blood run cold.

"That's… my bathroom."

"Yes." Armand followed behind him, letting the curtain fall and closing out the faint glow of the lamplight on the other side. "It's a two-way mirror."

There was another curtain to the side of the long stretch of window into Daniel's bathroom, this one on a runner fashioned out of a bit of pipe. It was drawn back. If they were to close it, it'd be black as pitch in the space. As for now, the faint glow of Daniel's bathroom nightlight was the only illumination.

"You watched me from here that first night… I saw the…" Daniel shook his head, all of it settling in and scrambling his brain. "I sensed you…"

Armand joined his side, their arms brushing. "You could sense me?"

Daniel’s longing to have Armand even closer was at war with the fact that this detail, this parlor trick tucked between the modern modes of surveillence, had left him feeling genuinely uneasy.

But he could use that, couldn’t he?

Be the cat…

"I think you wanted me to feel you there.”

"I'd… never considered that anyone might. You've proven to be exceptional in many ways I could never have predicted."

"But I'm not the only one. You know what they call the people on the other side of the wall, Armand? They're called 'victims.'"

"Is that how it feels for you, Daniel?"

"Never mind how it feels for me. What does that make you?"

Silence hung between them as Armand seemed to calculate his response.

"Someone who has taken an interest in you," he said at last. "Someone desperate to feel close to you…"

"It's not fucking romantic, Armand!" Daniel snapped, causing Armand to wince and draw back.

You be the cat…

"You didn't even know me…"

"No," Armand whispered. "Not yet…"

And he’ll be the mouse…

Daniel took a step towards him, crowding him. "You manipulated me to get me into this specific apartment, for this specific purpose…"

"Because I was fascinated by you, I wanted to-"

"And I'm supposed to be flattered?"

"Daniel, I-"

Armand's words died instantly on his tongue when Daniel grabbed his upper arms and spun him, pushing him back against the exterior wall of the crawlspace, making him slam roughly against it. He cried out and Daniel's adrenaline soared. Was he doing this right? How could he tell?

Armand's trembling between his palms, maybe? The way he stiffened, then went to putty? The way his brows drew up together and his lips remained soft and parted?

In the long seconds of held silence between them, Armand shifted his body. If Daniel weren’t desperately searching every inch of it for a sign then he might have missed it, but it was there. A slight rise in his chest from an arched back, his chin tipping up, all while his eyes never left Daniel’s.

"You're so fucked," Daniel breathed, pressing in closer and bending his lips to Armand's neck.

His lips touched down against the velvet heat, feeling his pulse beneath his skin, rapid and coursing, Armand’s heart beating like a frightened little mouse. And still, Armand continued to yield, to further bare his throat for Daniel.

Yes, yes, good… I can do this…

He left Armand's upper arm, bringing his right hand to the top of the wool vest where it buttoned. He scraped his teeth over the throbbing artery in Armand's neck and ripped.

Armand gasped as buttons clattered to the floor and the vest was torn loose. He sunk a little and whimpered in Daniel's ear, maybe the hottest sound Daniel had ever heard in his life up to that point. It spurred him on, made his blood boil hot, made his dick throb in his jeans. It was all intuition from here. It turned out, being the cat was a lot easier when your scene partner was so excellent in their own role.

Next, Daniel went for Armand's belt, his fingers curling over the top of it, pushing down between his shirt and the hem of his trousers, feeling him suck in with another delicious gasp. He ran the tip of his tongue up the side of Armand's neck, up to the lobe of his ear, suddenly desperate to see how their hips would fit together, how it'd feel to grind against the man.

Armand had gasped in, Daniel had heard it, and his breath was held. He was anticipating it, too, Daniel thought. He gripped the front of the belt through the backside of Armand's trousers, groaned at the taste of his hot skin, and deafened himself to the metallic shick in the dark.

When he yanked Armand forward at last, his entire world went static. His eyes blew wide, his body went stiff, and then the universe narrowed down to one fixed point, cold as ice and localized right in the center of his gut.

His ears filled up with the sound of rushing water, a high pitched ringing cutting through, growing louder as he slowly pulled his head back from Armand's throat and the cold icy feeling in the center of him turned warm, then hot, then to a sharp, slicing pain.

"—so sorry, Daniel, my god, I don't know why I—”

"S'okay," Daniel heard his own voice in his ear, the ringing cut flat and dead.

Was it okay? Was what okay?

Something was holding his body still; instinct, adrenaline, he couldn't be sure. At some point, he'd grabbed hold of Armand's elbow, he could feel that, the density in his right hand. He gripped it hard like an anchor as he lowered his head, finally, to see what had happened.

In the five or so inches between their bodies was Armand's fist. Between Armand's fist and Daniel's belly was a flash of gold, spreading into the white cotton of Daniel's shirt was a whole lot of blood, and in front of him was Armand's wide-eyed face as he said six strange words.

"I'm not supposed to let anyone…"

 

Chapter 16: 'boyfriend' diagnosis

Summary:

Daniel hangs in the balance while Armand evades questioning

Notes:

"Not much more to you, Daniel, other than a hole" indeed.

We said "bet."

Jk, Daniel's gonna get some TLC in this chapter, dw. <3

The fairy lights in his periphery were tracing tiny circles in the air as everything else went impossibly still, as Daniel's breath was held in stasis and Armand's words filtered in and out like Daniel was passing through wind tunnel after wind tunnel. The blood rushing in his ears… the blood gushing out over his belly, at first too warm for him to feel, but growing colder as it soaked.

Was he dying?

It made him dizzy. He stumbled back and another slicing pain ripped up his nerves as the blade came out of him. He clamped his hand over the wound, hot and wet, and his vision went gray and fuzzy, a halo closing in around a pinprick, at the center of which was Armand, crisp and clear, voice distant as though Daniel were peering at him through a telescope as he drifted away.

"No no no, Daniel, you must…"

There was a thump against the runner below their feet when the knife that had stuck him dropped. Armand's hand was pressed firm against his back as his knees shook and his legs began to give out. The pain was sharp, blinding, and he began to sink down.

"I've got you. Keep pressing it, yes, got you…"

He went out.

 

---

 

How had it happened? Daniel's weight slumped in his arms, the blood running around his side, getting Armand's skin wet.

Not good, not good…

"Daniel, wake up!"

He slapped at his face, observed it growing pale with the shock and the blood loss. He couldn't have him lose consciousness, there would be no way to get him out of the crawlspace without his cooperation.

Furthermore, the blood was gushing out without the pressure of Daniel's palm. Armand would need to think, but his mind was filled up full, replaying the last thirty seconds over and over, trying to unwind it, peel it back, undo what he'd done.

'You're so fucked…'

Daniel had torn his clothes, popped the buttons from his vest -yes, Armand could see the buttons glinting, now scattered on the floor…

He'd gone for Armand's belt. Facts. These were the events and how they'd happened. The things edging in at the corners of Armand's memory, they weren't important. The pale freckled hand in the moonlight, the bruise on his hip where he'd been pushed down behind the shrubs, his left arm wrenched behind his back, his tunic rucked up and his stockings down.

That metal on metal sound of the spring propelling the blade with a click, the agonized scream in his ear, spittle hitting his cheek…

'Amadeo, you've made quite a mess, haven't you?'

Quite a mess, indeed.

The weight of Daniel in his arms crooked Armand's knees, pulled at his shoulders, and he used his strength to haul him up, the quick motion seeming to bring Daniel back around.

"Wha-"

"Shhh… Shhh, you're hurt. We've gotta…"

He could feel Daniel begin to hold himself up under his own power, standing again, though slumped.

"Hand on your belly, please!" Armand cried frantically.

"Shit," Daniel muttered through a half-maniacal laugh. "Really stuck me…"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"Bleeding everywhere… Your rug…"

"Daniel, I have to go for help. I'm terrified to leave you…"

"Help? No… I mean, yes…"

"I don't know that paramedics will easily be able to…"

Daniel was shaking his head, swaying a little on his feet, Armand's arm bracing him steady once more.

"No, no… look. Okay, here's… here's the plan…"

Armand doubted very much that Daniel was in any state to be making plans, but his own ineptitude in the present moment urged him to listen.

"We're gonna… get me down to the street…"

"Daniel, you can't walk like this-"

"The fuck I can't!" He pushed Armand away from himself as if to emphasize. "We're gonna get me to the park… to the payphone…"

"My phone is so much closer-"

"Nah, nah, we can't… Just listen…"

Armand nodded. "Alright."

"We call from the payphone. The adrenaline is starting to kick in, we can do this. You call an ambulance, while we wait you'll need to think of what the guy who stabbed me looked like."

"Daniel, I'm the one who stabbed you-"

"For fuck's sake, Armand, I know that!" He hobbled back Armand's way and slung his arm around his shoulder. "Brace me and we'll go down together. Come on. Before I bleed out…"

And oh god, what if he did…? What if he dies in your arms? What if you can't get him past the narrow stretch?

"You gotta stay positive, babe…"

Babe…

Daniel's green eyes were glassy, his temples running rivers of sweat, and Armand dropped his gaze to his lips. There was no blood there, it was entirely possible Armand had managed to miss his entrails. They had to get him to the hospital to be certain.

But how could he be expected to be positive?

"Alright, there we go… Suppose we should go slow but not too slow. Need to keep my heart rate down, I think…"

Yes, yes, of course…

Armand knew these things. His time caring for Marius had lead him to great stacks of books on anatomy and medical practice. The human body was a fascinating thing. A frightening thing, sometimes. As optimistic as Daniel seemed, Armand knew all the ways he could be so much worse off than he appeared in the moment. Yes, the adrenaline was working in their favor, of course, but it could also be obscuring the true damage.

"It'd help me a lot if you talked, I think," Daniel said.

"Do you taste blood?"

"No, freak, do you?"

"I meant right now…"

Daniel laughed, "No. Don't worry about that stuff now. Just worry about getting me to that payphone."

They rounded the corner, began making their careful way to the stairs.

"Tell me a joke or something," Daniel said as they reached the top.

"I must concentrate on getting you down." Armand left his side to take the first step, his back pressed against the rail as he stood sideways, ready to help Daniel.

"You can't multi-task?"

"I don't know if it's wise for you to be talking so much…"

Daniel grasped Armand's hand, the other hand on the light-wrapped wooden rail. "How about this," Daniel said and Armand could swear he heard the pained labor behind it, the effort it took to push the words out, "when I stop talking, that's when you worry. C'mon, don't you know any knock-knock jokes, at least?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't know many jokes, Daniel…"

They eased down the steps, one at a time, Armand keeping his back straight and poised, ready to catch Daniel were he to go down.

"Ahh, that's lame."

"I do know a limerick. Taught to me when I was younger by a mate."

"Lemme have it, boss…"

Babe… boss…

"There once was a man from Nantucket…"

Daniel rasped and Armand could hear his teeth beginning to chatter. His hand around Armand's wrist going icy. "Daniel, you're going cold…"

"Nantucket, these are always gold, keep going…"

Armand sighed. "There once was a man from Nantucket, whose cock was so long he could suck it-"

Daniel fumbled a step and came down a little heavier than expected, causing Armand to place a hand over his on top of his bleeding belly and making him cry out in pain.

"I'm sorry!"

"S-so long he could… suck it," Daniel repeated.

Armand continued, eyes growing bleary with panicked tears. "He s-said with a grin, as he wiped off his chin… If my ear was a cunt, I would fuck it…"

"Good shit. Look at that, one flight down already."

Armand grimaced, tears squeezing loose and rolling down his cheeks. They had such a long way ahead of them.

 

---

 

"Yes, it was a masked man. A mugging gone wrong, I think, and… No, he's fled. Please hurry, he's so cold…"

He hung the phone on the receiver and turned to Daniel, slumped over on the ground, propped against a bench. He flew to him, crouching and placing a hand to his cheek.

"Daniel? Are you still awake?"

His shirt was soaked red and Armand could smell nothing but blood. Daniel's hand circled his wrist, however, gave him a weak squeeze.

"M'alright…"

"The ambulance is on its way. There will be police."

"Won't say a word. Stick to the story."

Armand was growing increasingly uneasy about the optics. Would the cops follow the trail of blood back to the building? Was it dark enough not to be concerned with it?

"What if they pick up our trail from The Palazzo?"

A labored laugh escaped Daniel as his head drooped. "You're giving too much credit to New Graven's 'finest.'"

Perhaps that was true. The wind was picking up and there were a few onlookers who had drawn close enough to watch the scene, keeping enough distance still to scatter when the time came. Armand did not care that they were being watched. He crowded in close, putting his arms around Daniel's shoulders, bending his head so their crowns touched, so Daniel was spared the cold gust. They breathed each other's air, the humidity building between them and tasting of salt.

"I'm so sorry," Armand whispered again. "You'll forgive me, won't you?"

"S'an accident," Daniel said through his chattering teeth. He was shaking in Armand's arms. "All forgiven, boss…"

Armand's teeth sank into his lower lip, an urge overtaking him, one he felt at first he should bite back and keep at bay, but then he thought he may never get the chance again. He tilted his head and caught Daniel's lips with his own, feeling their cold pliability, the vibration of his teeth behind them. But they opened to him and the chattering subsided as he was allowed to enter, pushing his tongue past those teeth that might've bit him had the shivering not abated, had Daniel's animalistic heat-seeking not taken over and pressed him forward.

Armand sought the taste in his mouth, a desperate need to confirm for himself that Daniel was not dying, in fact. There was acid there, a little iron, but none of that unmistakable, unforgettable taste of death. Not yet. His relief exhaled out of him and he felt Daniel pull it into his own lungs. Daniel's jaw worked and he kissed Armand back, his strength swelling with it until they both gave out at the sound of the siren.

"Thank God," Armand sighed, letting his own head drop. A taste of rest before the whirlwind of questions and paramedics.

"Shit," Daniel muttered, bringing Armand back a moment later. "If getting stabbed's all it takes to get a kiss out of you, you should've just told me…"

Armand's eyes roved all over his face, trying to make sense of the smile spreading over it. "You're insane…"

"Look who's fucking talking."

 

---

 

Daniel never fully lost consciousness. If Armand’s maybe-deathbed-kiss kept him alert, the effort it took to hang on to Armand and to raise hell until the paramedics let him ride along in the ambulance had all tethered him hard enough to reality.

He did lose track of time, though. The ER was flashes of faces and hands and questions he couldn’t seem to answer without stumbling over his words. Armand’s voice was always right behind his own, though, trying to fill in the blanks. He sounded much less anxious in the hospital, knowledgable even. He threw out words like “diastolic” and kept updating Daniel on his heart rate and oxygen levels. Daniel had landed himself in similar positions enough to know they were pretty shitty-sounding numbers, but he appreciated the company of Armand’s voice either way.

He was fully, excruciatingly present for each and every failed attempt at sticking him for an IV, though. Even as he lost count of them. After two separate nurses tried their luck, ‘Gina’ had been summoned, a woman in teddy bear patterned scrubs who looked old enough to be his mother and twice as tired. She didn’t speak, simply discarded his left arm with a scoff and then squeezed his upper right for five seconds before landing a vein in one shot. Things blurred again after, doubly so when a new nurse came to push the morphine he had been trying to refuse since the ambulance ride.

Somewhere out of eyesight, Armand attempted to speak up as well: “He has a history of opioid abuse.”

Well yeah, babe. That’s why people refuse narcotics.

“He’s been jerking around the bed since he got here,” the nurse said, eyes on her work.

Had he?

“Pulled two extra aides to hold down his arm for the IV.”

Oh, right.

“First job is to get him stable.”

“Of course, but…”

“Might shock you to hear it but your boyfriend isn’t the world’s first junkie to get stabbed.”

And shit did that wake Daniel up; to laugh reflexively through the silence that followed, to try and catch Armand’s eyes before Armand could respond.

“Thank you for your help,” Daniel gritted out, hoping to move it along.

Nothing he could do to stop Armand from following her out of the room, though.

Not ideal timing, as the relief of the morphine flooded him. His body was still. Calm. He was able to turn his head and really look around. To see that his bloody shirt had been cut up the middle and left hanging from his sides. To realize that new blood was flowing in through the IV. Time would stretch on, now. That was the way with these feel-good downers. The limbic system wanted to let you savor. But the circumstances were less than savory. Between each beep, each distant hospital chirp, he had many things to ponder. Between the folds of his brain, flooding with medicinal molasses, he trudged. He recounted. He'd been cat, Armand had been mouse. He'd bared his claws and Armand had struck in self-defense.

In defense against Daniel.

I'm a nice guy, he heard himself speaking in his ears. How many times had he said those words and how often had he proved himself wrong in their wake?

He turned his head, blinking slow and following the red line up to the bag.

Right, someone had asked his blood type. The paramedic, maybe?

He blinked again, back to the ceiling, and another thought struck him: If Armand had been a woman, Daniel's first instinct following his odd behavior might've been to assume a history of bad sexual encounters before inexperience. Abuse, violence, or even rape.

Daniel's blood ran cold at the realization. Or perhaps it was the cold blood running into him. Cold under his skin like steel.

And again, the guilt. Their sexy game of cat and mouse in the dark took on a new, sickening twist in light of Daniel's musings.

God, don't let this be the last stain on me before I go…

Selfish thought, that. He was so selfish sometimes. But his drive to live, as he considered it, was only taking one shape in this moment.

“You have a new nurse,” Armand announced, suddenly back in his chair in the corner.

“I thought I’d feel high,” Daniel said, not any kind of logical response. “I don’t really, though. Just kind of…”

Armand was at his bedside then, holding his hand, fingers entwined tightly. His eyes were so big and brown. Beautiful dark lashes wet and—

“Which means you’re a candidate for local examination,” a doctor was telling him.

“Oh yeah?” Daniel responded, looking around for Armand and finding him tucked into the corner again, smoothing his hands anxiously over his thighs.

The padded bandage was peeled off of him. He felt it tug but couldn’t feel the pain. Fuck. Alright. A good thing, he guessed.

“Did you get to wash your hands?” he asked Armand.

“Daniel,” Armand sighed.

“Going in,” the doctor told him.

Gloved fingers sunk into Daniel’s stomach. He laughed.

“Gonna need you to hold still, champ,” the doctor warned.

Daniel would do him one better.

 

---

 

"Got everything you need, sugar?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Daniel answered, cheeks warm from fresh blood and the extra bump of morphine he’d had before the stitches.

"I'll let you two have some peace, then," Constance said, closing the curtain and leaving them to one another.

Armand dragged his chair nearer to the bed once more, leaning his upper body over the edge and clasping Daniel's hand between his own once Daniel gave it to him.

"I'm so grateful," he said, appearing to be near tears again.

"Oh, give that a rest. I knew I'd be alright."

"I didn't."

"Well you heard the doctor. You missed my intestine. If I'd finished off your corndog, that really could've been it for me. So if you think about it, your wastefulness actually saved me…"

"I'm happy you can joke about it, Daniel, but I'm afraid I'm not quite at that point yet."

Daniel could see that. As harrowing as being stabbed in the gut had been for Daniel, it had seemed to take ten times the toll on Armand. He hadn’t even seemed to register what it had meant when the doctor had woken Daniel up from his blackout to ask if he wanted to buy a few lottery tickets today.

"You could've died…"

"That why you kissed me?"

Armand's eyes dropped to the bedside.

"I guess I just didn’t expect it after…what I did."

Armand's cool fingers slid over Daniel's forearm like silk, curled around him and held. "You didn't do anything, Daniel. I hurt you."

"No, I mean… I thought you wanted me to… So I was gonna try."

The light above him was so bright that he could see the warmth of his own blood in the membrane of his eyelids. He couldn't open them, now. Couldn't look at Armand while talking about it.

"I thought I wanted you to, as well…"

"You did?" Daniel turned his head, opened his lids to slits and peered at Armand's weary face and bloodshot eyes.

He could only feel so much relief when Armand clearly felt so miserable.

"Five years is such a long time. I wanted to be ready. I thought that if I let you-"

"If you let me?"

He watched Armand inhale sharply, close his eyes and let it out.

"I'm just trying to understand. You said something… right before the knife came out, you said-"

"I can't be asked to recall what I said in the seconds after-" He looked around before lowering his voice, "-stabbing you, Daniel…"

"Don't worry, I'm remembering for the both of us. You said…"

Armand let Daniel's hand go, dropping his head onto his forearms. "Must we?"

Daniel took the opportunity to push his warm, fuzzy feeling fingers into Armand's cool curls, ruffling them. "'I'm not supposed to let anyone…' Now. What could that mean?"

He felt Armand push into the touch, let his fingers trail down to caress his cheek as he lifted his head, their eyes meeting, Armand's looking unsure.

There was a tightness in the skin of Daniel’s stomach, a pulling feeling that was a little uncomfortable, sometimes a little zippy with pain, but nothing too major. Mostly, he was forgetting to feel. The morphine was pleasantly humming under his skin and he was finding it probably too easy to relax into the idea of this all as a misunderstanding, as something they had both miscalculated in a way that made Armand’s reaction feel fair enough. The chronic scab-picker in him couldn’t let him slide so easily. Something else was under the surface here, beyond the now obvious implication that Armand had good reason to feel like he’d need to carry a switchblade on a date. I’m not supposed to let anyone — the wording mattered, and Daniel didn’t love any of the explanations that presented themselves.

"Guess it's been a pretty hectic night. We don't have to get into your ex boyfriend if you don't want, just… Well, the morphine's got me feeling bold and I figure I might as well ask now. This ex…”

Armand opened his mouth, maybe to object, just as a monitor somewhere across the hall squealed out an alert. Daniel watched helplessly as Armand closed his eyes and set his jaw, squeezing tight on to Daniel’s hand as a group of people rushed by outside their curtain.

There wasn’t much you could do in those situations to avoid listening in, hoping the noises would stop but also unsure if that would actually be the better outcome. When things did finally quiet down Daniel thought he picked up the word “stable” in the air.

“You wanna see my stitches?" he asked Armand in the following silence.

"I was there when they went in," Armand answered, eyes still pinched closed.

Oh yeah…

"You saw them strip me out of my jeans?"

Finally, Armand looked at him again and cracked a smile. A laugh, even. "I even saw them put the catheter in."

"Is that what's making me feel funny down there?"

"They said you might be alright to go home as early as tomorrow. I've called Eglee already and told her to let Santiago know I won't be available."

"Why won't you be available?"

"You'll need someone to look after you, of course."

Daniel let his head fall back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

He could tell what was coming next by the crackling sigh that preceded it: “You asked about my ex.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you need to know?”

Current address, maybe, Daniel thought. I did pack the baseball bat, somewhere.

But no, he asked the real question: “He is an ex, right? You're not still…?"

"No." Armand shook his head, horrified. "Of course not."

"Okay,” That was something. A day you got stabbed was a day for small wins, for sure. “And I'm taking your word for it and I'm dropping it. For now.”

"Constance said not to let you get too excited and that you should keep working on your ice chips…"

"Shutting me up?"

"Yes." Suddenly Armand was up, leaning over him for the cup of ice chips before taking his seat again. "Open," he demanded, pinching one between two fingers and bringing it to Daniel's lips.

Daniel sucked it in, pulling Armand's fingertips along for a brief moment before letting them go. Immediately he rolled the ice to the side of his mouth and went on. "You know, it'll take a lot more than an ice chip…"

"Shall I ring the nurse and see if there's a gag available?"

"Ooh, well in that case, maybe you should ask for some restraints, too. In for a penny…"

Armand didn't seem amused.

"I think I'm funny…"

"You're doped up."

Daniel sighed. "Yeah… Well, accepting the things I can't control. I'm not the one who stuck the needle in this time. Look, if it helps, I don't feel like I have an armful of danger. I was in the worst pain I'd ever felt and now I'm… I'm alright. A little mellow, a little warm and tingly, but I'm not… y'know."

Armand hummed. "Your color looks good. I was so frightened seeing the hollows under your eyes and your pulse had gone so weak, but the transfusion brought all your life back. I shudder to think that I'd been the one who'd come so close to draining you of it."

"Kinda romantic, though, right?" Daniel inclined his head forward, mouth open, and made an 'ahh' sound to indicate he'd like another piece of ice, which was, of course, granted to him — placed directly onto his tongue.

"Like when Antonio sat by Christian's sickbed after he contracted pneumonia."

It was like that. Daniel hadn't even connected those dots. "So… three dates in, a stabbing, our first kiss… You think the 'boyfriend' diagnosis checks out?"

Armand gave him a soft smile and a shake of the head. "You're recovering, you can turn the charm off."

"No, I'm serious. I liked the way it sounded."

"I think there will need to be a trial period where I bear the title of 'nurse' before 'boyfriend,'" Armand stated nervously.

"Nurse boyfriend. Can that be your title?"

Armand rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, smile cracking wide. "Sure. Why not?"

"You'll be my first, you know…"

"Yes."

"And I'm, what… only your second?"

Armand reached for Daniel's cheek, feeling with the backs of his fingers before taking it upon himself to untangle a curl above his ear. "Does that please you?"

"Feels special, I guess."

"Good."

Daniel missed the contact as soon as it was gone. He crunched down on the bit of nearly melted ice still in his mouth and worked up his nerve to ask the thing he really wanted to ask.

"Five years… That's how long ago it ended with him?"

"That's right."

"Did he, uh… Did he end it, or…"

"I suppose you could say that."

Is every answer going to be a puzzle?

"When you were together, did he have a lot of rules for you?"

He saw Armand stiffen as if struck, saw the corner of his mouth twitch, his brow furrow.

"I mean, if it's hard to talk about, I get it. I just feel like we probably should. Eventually. I just want to be sure I don't fuck up again. You get that, right?"

"Again, Daniel, the 'fuck up' was all mine."

"Y'see, I don't agree. I just want to know why you think that."

"You can't deny that I lead you on."

"I'm not denying it. Can you at least tell me how it ended between you?"

"It ended in heartbreak. How else?"

Right…

An evasive answer, but a clever one. Daniel would be a real slime if he pressed further. The gears were turning, greased to slippery by the drug, but still managing to catch spokes. Armand split with his last boyfriend five years ago. That lined up with his inheritance of the building. Daniel wondered if, perchance, the discovery that the building alone would be his meager morsel might've been the wedge that divided them. If they'd taken up together while this nameless boyfriend was under the impression that they'd someday inherit a fortune, well…

"One question, then I leave it."

Exasperated, Armand lifted the ice cup between his palms and tipped several chips into his own mouth.

"Did the split have anything to do with your inheritance not being what you'd anticipated?"

When the cup lowered, Armand's eyes were wide and indignant. His jaw worked, crunching down prematurely on the ice and making Daniel wince. He swallowed hard and past his lips, Daniel could see his tongue working over the front of his teeth. Would the nurses be angry with him if he lifted his foot to his mouth, now? Probably.

"Is it so hard," Armand spoke at last, his consonants a little dulled by the cold, "to imagine that I'd have anything else to offer?"

Daniel nodded as contritely as he could. "I realize how that sounded, I didn't think before-"

"It wasn't the money and it no longer matters. He died. Now let's put it to rest."

Of course, now Daniel was as desperate to 'put it to rest' as Armand was. But it still didn't clear up why Armand had reacted so dramatically to his touch. If Armand was his boyfriend, what would that look like beyond tonight? A boyfriend Daniel could only have contact with up to a point?

It wasn’t nearly that simple, though, was it? It wasn’t like the road before the block had been a straight one. They had gotten off together. Technically, they’d gotten off together before Daniel was even aware. Armand had gone for second base in the tunnel of love before even attempting first. Armand had been in him before kissing him, if Daniel wanted to be cute about it.

And he did want to be fucking cute about it, the morphine was making sure of that. The part of his brain reserved for connecting dots in memo pads could light up like a switchboard all night for all he cared.

Your new boyfriend tells you his old boyfriend is dead, right after he stabs you.

Daniel held his hand out for another ice chip and upon receiving it, tossed it into his mouth. "You stabbed me…"

"Yes. And is it your objective, now, to tell the entire hospital?"

"And you watched them stitch me up… and you've still got my blood all over you…."

"The t-shirt they offered me was atrocious. I'd rather be stained in your blood."

"Yeah, I bet. That's hot, Armand…"

"I pray you, not now…"

The curtain peeled back suddenly, startling them both as nurse Constance stepped in. "Daniel, you have visitors. Should I send them on in?"

"Visitors?" the both of them uttered in unison.

 

---

 

"And so Louis, of course, insisted he come along…"

Never mind why Louis and Lestat were together at this hour, Daniel thought. Though, from the look on Armand's elated face, it was clear he was minding it quite a bit.

"I should have known Eglee would have the entire building informed by sunrise."

Louis shot Armand a look before returning his concern to Daniel. "Someone stabbed you?"

"I'll just close this and give you all some privacy," Constance said with a tight-lipped smile, putting the artificial barrier of the curtain between them.

"We were taking a little walk in the park and then-"

"The park where strangers like to exchange sex in the bushes?" Louis clarified.

"Mon cher, forgive me, but not everyone is as straightlaced or as uptight as you are…"

Louis narrowed his eyes and took a step to the left of Lestat who closed the distance just as immediately, hands coming to rest on his shoulders.

"It's easy enough to ignore when you are absorbed in conversation," Armand explained. "We were run up on from behind."

"How much did they get off you?" asked Louis, scrutinizing the both of them.

"I had $60 bucks on me," Daniel lied. "I gave them the cash, but they weren't happy with that, I guess…"

"Mon dieu, you must have been so frightened."

"And the guy tore his vest?"

Daniel followed Louis' gaze to the front of Armand, where his vest still hung open, threads at odds where they'd once held the buttons in place. "We're not sure. We think I must've done it when I was clinging to him."

"The assailant didn't put a hand on me."

Louis's face scrunched up, like he was putting on a look of confusion. "You didn't think to jump in? I mean, I can imagine the adrenaline might've put you between them and maybe that could account for the guy getting ahold of your clothes…"

"Louis," Lestat placed a gentling hand on his chest, patting to calm him. "They've just lived through a traumatic ordeal. You're interrogating."

"Sorry."

And for a moment, he really looked it. Daniel felt the stain of the lie setting in. What alternative was there? He'd only seen Louis in passing in the hall a time or two since his first date with Armand, and he wasn't too delusional to discount the feeling he got that Louis wasn't pleased with the whole affair. And the worst of it, of course, was that Louis had no idea how right he was to feel that way.

Lestat left Louis' side, came to the edge of the bed and traced a finger down Daniel's cheek. It was a touch so intimate that Daniel felt the immediate urge to check Armand for his approval.

"And to think, we may've lost you just as soon as you'd come in to brighten our lives…"

Armand appeared breathless. Not jealous, exactly, but affected.

"Well, he's fine," said Louis, crossing his arms over his chest. "And maybe he's learned a lesson or two about prowling in the park at night."

"A lesson? Mon cher, there has never been such an incident in all our years in the area. I'm sure the police are doing everything within their power to apprehend the person responsible for this."

Louis laughed. "Of course, how can I be worried with New Graven's most formidable on the case?"

Daniel felt Armand's fingers slip into his and again and he caught Louis' suspicious look. Could jealousy account for some of it? He wondered…

"I'm happy you're not dead," Louis said as though his arm were being twisted.

"Yeah. Me, too," Daniel agreed. "So, uh… When is it gonna be appropriate to ask what the two of you were doing that put you both in Eglee's lobby at such a late hour?"

"Well…" Lestat could barely hold back the beaming smile spreading on his face as he looked to Louis. "Perhaps Louis can explain."

Armand's grip on Daniel's fingers tightened and he leaned in, interest clearly piqued.

"We've been spendin' time together again. You knew that."

Daniel schooled his amusement. "I mean, I knew you'd spent some time together…"

"We had some cause for celebration," Lestat interjected, unable to help himself. "We'd been celebrating. We ran out of…" He turned his eyes to Louis, a smirk on his lips. "Well, I was sent out for more libations, but I was halted by Eglee with the shocking news."

"You don't seem drunk," Daniel pressed.

"Hearing you got your stupid ass stabbed sobered us up real quick." Louis plastered on a dubious smile. "I'm sure you can understand."

"So that's what you've got up your ass," laughed Daniel. "Or don't. Sorry my near death interrupted your amorous evening."

"I was gonna offer to check in and help with your bandages, but now I'm thinking better of it."

The back and forth, the playful rivalry, it made Daniel laugh. "Don't worry about it, apparently Mr. Building Manager of the Year is actually going to take off work for once."

"He'll be in good hands," Armand said with a smile. "I've plenty of experience tending to the infirm."

Louis' eyes bounced from Armand to Daniel. "Uh-huh. Well, still, I'll drop by when I can. And Claudia will wanna visit, too, I'm sure. She does seem to like you."

Daniel's head was beginning to feel heavy. He nestled back into his pillow and closed his eyes. "S'cause I'm cool…"

He could hear a scoff or two, his muddled mind failing to pinpoint where they came from but he might've guessed.

"He passing out?" Louis' voice asked, sounding a little further out to sea.

"Looks like it." Armand. A gentle kiss to the back of his hand. "Likely the last of the adrenaline…

ebbing…

away…"

Chapter 17: How is the taste?

Summary:

Armand lives up to both halves of his "nurse boyfriend" title, while Claudia prepares to leave the nest in sort-of-good hands.

"And, of course, that's every four hours as needed, so you will have to be diligent about letting me know if you are in pain-"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a baby about that shit, don't you worry. Come sit down…"

Daniel was set up on the sofa, back propped by pillows against the arm, just enough room at his feet for Armand to sit. To rest.

"Have you any laxatives?" Armand's voice continued to call from the bedroom. "Perhaps in the boxes you've yet to unpack?"

"Yeah, probably somewhere. Kind of a pantry staple for a heroin junkie. Look, I don't think the morphine's gonna interrupt my business. This body's pretty used to it. Please come sit down, you're making me nervous."

With a sigh, Armand emerged from the hallway, a box in his arms labeled 'medicine cabinet and more.'

"Perhaps in here…"

"Put that down. I'm serious. Take a load off."

Armand was still in the pants he'd been wearing on their date and at the hospital. There were three spots of blood on his thigh. He'd run down to the basement to change shirts, but he'd neglected to pack anything to bring back to Daniel's with him. He seemed anxious to be away from him for too long.

He clenched his fists and came around the coffee table to take a seat at Daniel's feet. Now that he was closer, Daniel could see just how tired he looked. The shadows under his eyes, the oily sheen of his skin. His hair was falling looser out of its set style, a clump of curls hanging over his forehead. Even sitting down, he seemed wound so tight.

"Eventually, you're going to have to sleep."

"You'll need another dose before I do, I'm certain of it. You were near sick with the pain before your first and you've about an hour before this one starts to wear away."

Such a strange thing to consider; being high again. Daniel supposed, by medical definition, he was high, but it was such a different state of it. Yes, fuzzy on the edges, warm, pleasant, happy. But if he were to stand up, he was sure his feet would feel the solid floor beneath them. He was certain the air would feel cool on his skin, like he was real, like he existed on the same plane as all other solid matter. He wasn't untethered. Best of all, he wasn't bartering his pain for a higher high. A marvel what scaling back a dose could do. He'd have to hope that Constance was on shift when he returned in a week to have the stitches looked at. He owed her a big sloppy kiss on the cheek for her wisdom.

"Okay, so take an hour to wind down, then we'll see where I'm at, but after that I want you to take an hour to stop worrying about me and go take care of yourself, okay?"

"I'm not the one who needs taking care of, Daniel."

"I’m cozy, I’m hydrated, I’m clean.” Somehow, he’d even managed to convince Armand to let him handle that last one on his own with a wash cloth. ‘Nurse boyfriend’ was a cute idea and all but the prospect of a sponge bath fell right off the unsexy end of the spectrum for Daniel. “You need a shower and some pants that don’t have my blood on them. Not to mention food…"

Armand pushed the curls from his forehead and looked down at the blood splatter in question. "I suppose I do."

An idea struck Daniel, excited him even, and he pushed the balls of his feet into the side of Armand's thigh. "Maybe you could pack what you need real quick and run a bath up here."

"A bath," Armand repeated. "I haven't had a bath in ages."

Daniel recalled the utilitarian nature of the man's bathroom, contrasted it against his own. "Oh, man, you really should. My bathtub is huge — but you know that, you selected it. You could soak while I doze off a while."

"It does sound appealing…"

Daniel was only sad that he would have to miss it. He could imagine, though.

Boy, could he imagine.

With some reluctance, Armand took his suggestion. He grabbed a duffel bag from Daniel's closet, of course knowing exactly where to look and what he'd find — things for a recovered Daniel to consider the weight of at another time.

"I'll try to be swift," he said, bending to kiss the top of Daniel's head. "Toiletries and food. You have nothing here."

Daniel shrugged. "I like the excuse to get out."

"Yes," Armand answered, tight-lipped, before heading to the door.

Daniel hadn't meant it as a jab, but he figured if Armand took it that way, it wouldn't hurt. He let it ride.

"Oh," Armand said as he opened the door.

Daniel craned his neck around, trying to see what the cause for alarm had been, but then he saw Armand stepping to the side, as if pushed by a force. The force, of course, being Claudia.

"Thank you," she said primly, as though Armand had invited her in.

She stopped in front of the coffee table, hands on her hips, assessing the sad figure he was cutting on the couch. She had some kind of matching jacket and skirt thing going, bright yellow and plastic-like, and Daniel’s addled mind was so blown away by the shiny objects that he couldn’t stop himself from commenting:

"Well, look at you. You look like one of those Fresh Girls from In Moving Color."

Claudia blinked, shook her head. "Yeah. Okay. Anyway, you got stabbed?!?!"

"You wanna see the wound?"

"Daniel, you are not to remove those bandages without me," Armand dictated from the doorway, duffel slung over his shoulder but feet firmly rooted to the carpet. "He's not to remove the bandages," he repeated to Claudia.

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry. Looking at his gash is the last thing on my mind."

She wore a smirk that told Daniel otherwise.

"We'll be good, I promise. Go."

Armand gave them one last, stern look, and then he was on the other side of the door and Daniel's shirt was over his belly.

"The bandages are still pretty gnarly," Daniel said. "The guy just missed my intestine."

"Cool," Claudia marveled. "So." She crossed her ankles and plopped onto the floor on the other side of the coffee table. "Louis took Lestat back. Did you hear?"

"Did I hear? They showed up at the hospital together last night."

"Yeah. They were at Lestat's." She made a face to impress to Daniel that she knew just what they'd been up to there.

"You doing alright with that?"

"Hmm…" She tilted her head to the side like she had to think about it. "I mean, he's happier. The change was so immediate. Like how you hear about people takin' sick and then it turns out they were just missing some part of their diet or a little sun. Once they get that vitamin back in them, they're back to themselves. Besides, seeing Lestat like this has been a trip. I don’t know if cheaters can really change that much, but to witness a grown man so pathetic…”

"And where does he stand with you?"

"Well, he swung me a deal on my new lease."

She said it with a coy affect, trying to school a smile from her face, but her round cheeks rose up, squishing under her lower eyelids regardless, giving her away.

"You got a place already?!" He sounded, to himself, a bit like he was speaking to a small child. He didn't mean to, his elation was genuine — if a bit buttressed by the morphine. "That's great!"

"Yeah. Especially great for me now that those two are back together. I mean, it's… it's nice, I guess. The two of 'em were always the closest thing to normal in my life, which is saying a lot. But now they can have each other and I know I can trust Lestat to look after him. And I'll be in my own place and I can read in peace and have long showers without Louis bitching up a storm about needing to lay down his hair."

Daniel couldn't feel how wide he was grinning, it took Claudia's mix of amusement and confusion to bring his attention to the strained muscles in his face.

"Sorry, I'm a little doped up. Let me know if I start drooling."

"Eugh. Anyway, I just wanted to stop by and give you the news since you're laid up. I'll be moving out in just a day and I didn't want you to think you didn't matter."

Aw.

Daniel was so touched, it made his eyes wet. The worst fucking thing about dope, how weepy it made him.

"You'll be around to visit," he threw out there, blinking his eyes dry again.

"Oh, I'll be around. Madeleine's apartment is still nicer than the one I found.”

Madeleine?

Daniel waited for Claudia to catch her slip up, but she was frowning at a smudge she’d spotted on the glass coffee table, buffing it out with her sleeve.

"You got a lot of pants that need hemming?”

“What?”

“Claudia,” Daniel didn’t bother to hide his stupid grin at this development. “Is Madeleine your lady friend?”

“Jesus Christ. I thought I already— Do not say anything to Lou, you hear me?”

“Cross my heart,” Daniel promised, miming the gesture.

“You’re doin’ it backwards.”

“Oh.”

“And maybe don’t say ‘lady friend’ at all. It’s creepy.”

“It’s just wild that when I moved here I thought I might have a chance at her—”

Her lips locked down tight around a laugh, but it burst out of her anyway. "Now that's funny."

"Alright, now…"

"Ain't you getting close with the super, anyhow? He's not too bad lookin'. Louis hates him, still."

Yeah…

A twinge under his bandages made his legs jump. Guilt like a phantom knife.

"Armand.” he confirmed. “Three dates and a stabbing. Now I'm moving him in to play nurse. Think it's too soon?"

Claudia shook her head. "You're crazy."

"Well so's he, so I guess it works out."

"Guess so. Too bad you're all stabbed up. I'll give you a break if you're late on a housewarming gift, though."

"Yeah, you oughta. On that note, think you can do me a favor?"

Claudia made a show of weighing it out before shrugging. "Sure. I guess. Since you've been stabbed."

Daniel laughed a little to himself and nodded to the notebook and pen on the coffee table next to her. "Can you hand me that real quick? I'm gonna make a list of some things I need from the store. I'll give you $20 if you go get them for me."

"You're sending me on an errand?"

"For $20…"

She sighed, pulling the notebook in front of her and flipping it open to a blank page. She clicked the pen and poised herself at the ready. "I'm not gonna see any gay vampire notes in here, am I? I still haven't read the book…"

"That's my grocery list notebook, not my gay vampire notebook. Don't worry. You ready?"

"Ready."

"I need two jugs of juice. Let's do… grape and…."

"Juice?" Claudia raised her eyes, incredulous. "How old are you?"

"Will you just listen and write?"

She shook her head and turned her attention back down to the notebook. "'Kay. Grape and…"

"Apple." That'd probably be good for him, too, in the off chance they never found those laxatives. "Some eggs and bread. And, uh…" Now came the actual strange part. "Twelve Freezer King brand pot pies. A variety of flavors, but if you can make sure a good chunk is chicken-"

"Twelve pot pies? Now I know you're high…"

"Look, it's not just for me. Armand is just… particular."

"Juice and pies. Got it. Anything else?"

"Did you get the eggs?"

"I got the stupid eggs," she laughed. "Now where's your wallet?"

Daniel stopped himself from telling her she wasn't the first woman to ask him that while he was indisposed in this apartment, but he refrained. Instead, he gestured to the kitchen counter where Armand had placed everything he'd had on him the previous night before helping him into his sweatpants and setting him up on the sofa.

Claudia pushed up off the floor and went to it, opening it and peering inside.

"Just take the whole thing. There's enough in there to cover it."

"Plus the $20?" she asked.

"Plus the $20."

"Oh, ew…" She plucked out a foil wrapper and Daniel nearly ripped himself back open attempting to look back over his shoulder at what she'd found. "You want me to leave this on the counter for you?"

He recognized the condom Lestat had given him, considered telling her where it'd come from just to see her reaction, but chose to be kind.

"Yeah. Just leave it on the counter."

"You got it." She dropped it like a bug before shoving the wallet wholesale into the pocket of her high-rise jean shorts. "I gotta let Lou know I'll be out, but this shouldn't take me more than an hour and thirty, I think. Do I get a bonus for being fast?"

Daniel fell back against the pillow tucked under him and took a careful breath, the stab wound beginning to cut through the haze of painkillers again. "Sure. Why not."

"Cool." She pranced to the door. "Back in a jiff."

 

---

 

"He's paying you to be his courier?"

"Relax, it's just pocket money."

"Thought you wanted to be treated like an adult. I don't know if I like the idea of him thinkin' he can-"

"Louis… You know he wasn't thinkin' about it like that. If you wanna turn this into a history lesson on spit-shinin' the white man's shoes, be my guest, but me? I'm about to be $20 richer." She shrugged into her jacket. "Who knows, maybe more. Think I'm gonna insist he just let me keep the change, too. He had nearly $60 in his wallet."

On the other hand, Louis was a little indignant on Daniel's behalf. The man had just been stabbed, after all.

"Well don't shake the man down."

"I won't. He's not hurtin' for cash, Louis. You should see the list he had me write. Twelve frozen pot pies. And not just any, it’s Freezer King or nothing. Guess the money's gone and made him eccentric already."

"Okay. Yeah. That is… a little strange."

"Think they're for the boyfriend, though."

Right…

Louis felt a twinge of disdain. "Well, just hurry on home, alright? It's supposed to rain."

"I will. Don't wait up on me tonight, though. I'm going out."

Louis shook his head. "You got two more nights here, you can't spend 'em in?"

She stopped with her hand on the door and made her eyes wide, stuck out her lip. "I'm trynna have friends here, Lou…"

He supposed that was fair. "Alright well… You know, I'll be expecting you for dinner a few nights out of the month, at least."

"Yes," Lestat backed him up, stepping down from the ladder and folding the canvas he'd been working to take down over his arms. "We'll begin a new tradition, won't we?"

"Yeah. I promise. Look, I told Daniel I'd be quick, so…"

"Grab the umbrella," Louis directed.

"And call if you get caught in a downpour. Louis or I will come fetch you."

"I will, I will," Claudia agreed, another muffled "I will" as the door closed between them and she was off.

"She can be just as enterprising as you are, mon cher." Lestat sat the canvas on the floor and came to Louis, planting his hands on his waist. "You should encourage it."

"Encourage her to take the cash out of stabbed man's-" He cut himself off.

Lestat kissed his nose. "Yes? Believe it or not, I am listening. Though, you do make it hard when you cinch your waist like this…"

"Didn't Daniel say the guy who stabbed him made off with all his cash?"

"Well, yes. The cash he had on him. Surely, he has more in his apartment. If not, Claudia can wait. I would actually draw the line at walking a stabbed man out to an ATM in the rain, I suppose."

"Yeah, but didn't he also say the guy got $60 off him?"

Another kiss to the nose, to the cheek. "Oui… But what does it matter? We've got some time alone, now…"

Louis pushed him back by the chest, ignoring the firm feel of it beneath his fingers, the peaked nipples under the cream-colored cashmere.

"Isn't it weird that he thought to restock his wallet with the exact amount he got robbed for last night?"

Lestat looked lost. "Is it?"

"Yes! It's strange. Why would he need to replace the cash in his wallet, he's not going anywhere."

Lestat shrugged. "Why does anyone do anything, mon cher? Why is Claudia off to help him stock his fridge with a dozen pies? Les gens peuvent être étranges…"

Les gens peuvent être étranges. And wasn't that the truth…

Perhaps he was being a little paranoid again. Probably brought on by Armand's proximity. He had a habit of finding the dark shit he wanted to see, making it up out of nothing, and he supposed that wasn't really fair to the man. He was strange. That wasn't a reason to hate him. And it was obvious that Daniel was finding plenty to like in the guy.

He patted Lestat's chest. "You're right. You're right…"

Lestat's brow knitted. He dipped in, forcing Louis' eyes to meet his own in concern. "Louis?"

"I'm good," Louis assured him with a smile. "Just… Seeing the worst in things. Like always."

"Because of your distrust of Armand?"

"I know it's baseless."

"It's not illegal to dislike someone. Though, I think you should give him a chance, considering the circumstances."

"Yeah," Louis agreed.

"And we like Daniel. Daniel has many… qualities."

Louis' eyebrows popped up halfway to meeting his hairline. "Qualities, huh? You been takin' stock of his qualities?"

"Mon cher, we both have eyes. And I know about your near indiscretion."

That was fair.

"I just didn't think he'd appeal to you in that way."

He hoped he didn't sound jealous or insecure. Oddly, he didn't really feel that way when it came to Daniel. Chalk it up to their own close encounter, maybe, but Daniel simply didn't register as a threat.

"If it concerns you, you can rest assured that though my eyes may wander, the rest of me is firmly anchored in your port and your port alone, San Louis…"

Hot lips against his neck, tickling kisses with a hint of teeth behind them making him wriggle in Lestat's grasp. "Alright… Alright…"

"Twelve frozen pies, though," Lestat spoke against his ear. "Mon dieu…"

Louis felt his nose wrinkle a bit. "Freezer King, too. Ain't no way that boy's gonna mend quick on that."

Lestat let him go at last. "Well, you're right next door, you could offer to cook a few meals. I don't suspect Armand has much of a talent for the art."

No, Louis suspected he probably didn't. "You don't think that's gonna be too much? I mean… he's got Armand fussing over him and you know that's gotta be suffocating."

"Perhaps it has somehow eluded you, but if ever there was a boy who struck me as the type to enjoy being suffocated a little…"

Another sound point. Lestat seemed full of them tonight. It was beginning to make Louis wonder where his own head had been the last couple weeks. Had he been so wrapped up in his own anxieties?

"Y'know," he said, letting the plan form in his mind just as soon as he was speaking it. "I think I've got an idea."

 

---

 

Claudia returned quicker than Armand managed to, which had Daniel slightly concerned, but a call up from the desk put him at ease. Santiago seemed pleased as punch to have been given special dispensation to call Daniel up on the phone. He noted the strain in Daniel's voice, waxed erotic about it a moment, and then had the phone wrestled from him to be informed by Armand that he would be back in a few short minutes, he only needed to put his signature on a couple of documents for the fax machine first.

A dreamless nap later and Daniel perked up at the sound of Armand reentering the apartment…in a fresh set of clothes.

"You showered," Daniel whined openly.

"Daniel, I'll be staying with you for several nights. There will be more opportunities to get me into your bathtub."

Armand’s tone didn’t seem to quite match the teasing content of his words as he took the duffel bag to the kitchen counter and slung it off his shoulder. Daniel watched him stare down at it for an extra second, as though he needed to prepare himself to look up.

"Pretty sure we’re dining in. You don't want to put on something more comfortable?”

He was wearing a white button down and tan dress pants. Casual for him, maybe, but not exactly fit to lounge about in Daniel's apartment. If you asked Daniel, anyway.

"I did have to stop into my office.”

"Well, I hope you packed some of those pajamas you told me about.”

He earned a hint of a smile for the reference, which was a relief.

"I can always slip back down…"

"Maybe I don't want you to. Look… We're a little past the four hour mark, and I-"

Fuck this part felt weird, no matter how he tried to keep the context in mind.

"Oh, yes, of course!"

Armand left the duffel back and disappeared a moment before returning with the dropper full of Daniel's allotted medicine. Seemingly without a second thought, he kneeled next to him.

"You really don’t have to keep doing this if it’s too much,” Daniel reminded him.

"Not at all. I was relieved that you asked." Armand held Daniel’s eyes for emphasis. "I could tell it was weighing on you."

Daniel couldn’t deny that for a second. Constance’s confidence in his safety aside, he hadn’t been able to shake the thought that he was leaving the hospital with a bottle of Diet Dr. Smack in his pocket. He’d handed it to Armand on an impulse in the back of their taxi and Armand had accepted it like some kind of precious gift.

And now here they were, Armand cupping the side of Daniel's head with one hand, sending all heavy thoughts flying away.

"Open for me. Tongue back."

Daniel complied, trying not to let the act of it cross the too-easily crossed wires in his brain. It was hot, though. There was something about Armand playing nurse. He supposed there was probably something about anyone playing nurse, but Armand was just so… adept.

And beautiful…

Yeah. There was that too. God, was he beautiful.

"And there go your pupils," Armand said. "Relieved of your pain?"

Daniel melted. "Gettin' there…"

“How is the taste?”

He laughed. “Bitter as fuck. I’ll get over it in a minute, though.”

“Hm.”

He disappeared for a moment and Daniel heard the fridge door open.

“Daniel…where did this food come from?”

“Oh, Claudia ran down to the store for us.”

A beat of silence before the freezer door opened as well. Then more shuffling in the kitchen.

“Something to chase it with,” Armand instructed as he handed Daniel a glass of the grape juice.

Daniel drank it down obediently, finding himself charmed by Armand’s intense focus on the action.

“The pies were very thoughtful of you,” Armand told him as he took the cup and set it down, eyes following his own movements. “You didn’t much care for yours yesterday, though. I hope you don’t intend to suffer through them on my behalf.”

God, that was yesterday.

Daniel’s stomach dropped just slightly, like missing a stair but landing on the next. He cleared his throat to buy time before squaring back up.

“That’s where the eggs and toast come in,” he explained. “I figure I could walk you through scrambling an egg even if I can’t look over your shoulder.”

“I’d like that,” Armand agreed, finally softening into a less investigative expression. “After you get more sleep, of course.”

“Just caught a nap while I was abandoned up here, all alone…”

Armand rolled his eyes, turning away from Daniel as if to hide the smile that accompanied it.

“What shall we do to pass the time then?” he asked as he wandered to the entertainment system.

Daniel watched his back while he opened the lid of the record player and replaced it. He knew he’d left the Vapid Thoughts album there — the same they’d listened to together in the shop in what today felt to Daniel like another life.

“I’ve been listening to the cassette all week,” Armand told him, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Put it on,” Daniel directed. “Hear the real deal.”

Armand did as he was asked, standing with his back to Daniel for what felt like a long time under the circumstances.

Finally, he sighed.

“I should have brought something more comfortable to wear. You were right. I’m a bit out of my element, I guess.”

“Well, you know where I keep my PJ’s.”

Armand whipped around at the words, but Daniel didn’t try to soften them. He just smiled and shrugged. Yes, I know. We both know I know. It’s better that way, isn’t it?

“Show me your favorites,” he suggested.

Armand worried his lip for a long moment before nodding and heading to the bedroom.

The record played on, “Happily Ever After” ended and “Everything She Said” began. Daniel held the urge to shimmy his shoulders in anticipation, at the insane luck of Armand actually taking on his cheeky challenge.

When Armand re-entered Daniel's field of vision, he could see that he'd chosen an old t-shirt with the faded orange cat. Washed out charcoal, a little too big on Daniel, just right on Armand's chest, and with a slogan nobody would ever be able to read on it again, but of course most people could guess. Daniel might've found the cheek to ask Armand if he liked Mondays if it weren't for what else he'd put on catching Daniel's eye. Under the hem of the shirt, Daniel could see that Armand had slipped on a pair of his own old, worn-thin blue plaid boxers.

He's wearing your skivvies, Daniel's medicated brain helpfully informed him.

"Is this alright?"

Daniel picked his jaw up off his chest. "Yeah. Spectacular."

His expression must've amused Armand. Daniel saw him temper what appeared to be the beginning of a smug smile before he moved around the coffee table, placing himself between it and Daniel. He bent, lifting Daniel's shirt, inspecting the bandage -for unsanctioned fiddling, Daniel presumed- and then replaced it again, humming his satisfaction that Daniel and Claudia had minded him.

"You really should rest…"

Rest was the furthest thing from Daniel's mind now. Not if Armand was going to be moving around his apartment looking like that. He realized he'd been staring at the man's thighs and tried to peel his eyes respectfully away. He tried to meet Armand's eyes, but it didn't do much to help the situation. Armand's wet hair gleamed, antiquated self-formed waves framing his perfect face. His eyes were drowsy looking. Suited to the bedroom. But Daniel wouldn't be able to follow him there, now, would he?

As if in response to the very thought, his fingers reached out and caught the hem of the shirt, pinching it as if to keep him from leaving Daniel's side.

"I'm not feeling tired," he said. "Yet, anyway."

It seemed to him that, before his conscious mind had even clued him in, he'd made the decision to try all his luck. Who better to rationalize a poor decision than an ex-junkie? They'd had three dates, a whole lot of build-up, and not even a kiss before Armand had stuck him with cold, gold-plated steel. He'd earned the right to shoot his shot, that much couldn't be argued.

Armand watched him in silence, maybe grappling with his own desires. Daniel hoped that that was the case.

"So, is kissing generally on the table, now?" he asked, tugging more at the hem of the shirt.

Smiling, Armand lowered himself to rest on his knees beside the couch. He bent his head and gave Daniel a soft kiss on the lips. It felt to Daniel like a drop on a rollercoaster. Or off of a cliff. God help him if he was making the wrong choices here. The part of his brain that had learned all the lessons his previous fuck-ups had taught him was fighting back, but growing weaker with every punch it threw.

Cameras in the ceilings, people as pets, literal peeping tom…

Knife to the fucking gut…

Knife that’s still in your walls.

You do not know this man.

Another press of Armand's soft, warm lips against his own and the nagging voice was down for the count.

"Come up here, will ya?"

"Daniel…"

"Come here," he insisted.

There was concern, but then there was heat, too. Hot glow in Armand's cheeks, lips full from the pressing and sliding against Daniel's, from the contact with his unshaven face. He swallowed hard and Daniel knew the heat had won.

A moment later, Armand was on his feet again. He very carefully threw a knee over Daniel's legs and shifted his weight onto it, sinking it into the cushioned seat of the sofa. Then, leveling himself, he brought his other knee up to Daniel's other side so that his thighs were bracketed between Armand's.

"Hi there," Daniel said, hoping he didn't look as dopey as he sounded to his own ears.

"Hello." Armand lowered himself down and Daniel could feel the serious heat of him through the worn fabric of his old boxers.

It was a thrilling new angle to see him from for Daniel. He wasn't sure where to look first. A pin began to slip from the set of Armand's hair, a lucky break for Daniel. He thought he might as well start there.

"Can I?" he asked, interrupting Armand just as he'd been about to fix it back into place.

Understanding at once, Armand lowered his arm and leaned towards Daniel, who reached up and slid the pin all the way out of his hair. Armand gasped a little as Daniel eased two more free, then moved to the other side of his head and took the rest out as well. He placed the pins in his mouth and used both his hands to finger into and loosen Armand's curls, shaking them free of their set and letting them fall naturally around his face.

When he was satisfied, he placed the half a dozen or so pins on the carpet beside the couch and leaned back to inspect his work.

"Wow…"

"This is more to your liking?" Armand asked, looking boyish almost. Like all the posturing that he was a capable businessman had gone out with the hairstyle and the clothes.

Daniel wanted to be careful with his response for that very reason. He did not know this man. He'd stumbled, already, into his fragile pitfalls.

"No, I just… I don't ever get to see you like this."

Unsure whether it was his own effort, Armand's, or the both of them together, Daniel felt the room tilt as their lips met again.

"Now you do," Armand said. "If it pleases you."

It felt like a thing Daniel should push back against a little, 'if it pleases you', but the blood leaving his head for his groin was a bit of a roadblock to formulating a rebuttal. There was no articulation, now. Not with the drugs making his tongue lazy, not with the weight of this nursemaid angel in his lap.

Daniel dared to slip his tongue past Armand's lips, then, drawing a desperate little whine out of him. He let his hands slide from Armand's cheeks down to his shoulders where he gripped him, holding him in place, not wanting the kiss to end.

He felt Armand grasping the bottom half of his face, suddenly. Fingers in his cheek, thumb firm against his jaw. They were holding each other and Daniel could've sworn he could feel a pulse. He wasn't sure whose until Armand's weight shifted on his thighs again.

"Daniel, is this wise?" Armand whispered against his lips. "I don't want to hurt you again."

"Mm… Let you know if you do…"

They came together again, only now Armand was planting kiss after fleeting kiss on Daniel's cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and lower. His breath tickled down Daniel's neck and made him want to squirm, but he held himself in check, focusing on keeping still and ignoring the demanding between his hips for him to buck up against Armand. He distracted himself by allowing his hands to roam over the firm shoulders under them, down Armand's capable arms, meeting his skin and letting his fingers grip.

"Are you cold?" Armand asked against his collarbone.

"No," Daniel answered. "Burning up, actually."

On cue, Armand was sat back on his thighs again, gently tugging Daniel's t-shirt up over his belly, taking extra care around the bandage.

"Lift your arms. Careful…"

Once Daniel's shirt was off, it was tossed away and a moment later, their tongues were exploring the insides of one another's mouths again. Daniel felt feather-light fingers tapping around the perimeters of the bandage. His skin there was raw, sensitive from the work they'd done on him at the hospital, hot with the effort to heal, and Armand's touch felt explosive. It gave him the sensation that he was being tickled somehow from the other side of his skin. He thought that, probably, it should freak him out a little. Instead, it exhilarated him.

He moaned and Armand swallowed it, ate it right out of him as his hips began to churn on top of Daniel's thighs. In an effort to give him more contact, Daniel slid his heel back, raising his leg up a little, pitching him forward just enough so that he could rut against Daniel if he wanted.

The move broke them apart with a gasp.

"Hah, Daniel…"

"No, it's good. Keep going. Do whatever you want…"

Armand's fingers balled against Daniel's belly and he pulled back in frustration.

"What? What is it?" Daniel asked, coming out of the fog as if Armand not rubbing his hard dick against Daniel's had been a glass of cold water to the face.

"If I panic again-"

"You won't. Look…" Daniel squeezed once more at his upper arms. "You already aren't."

But he could see it, then. Feel it. Armand was beginning to shake a little and Daniel immediately let him go, holding his hands up in front of himself.

"Okay. Stopping. I'm sorry."

He watched Armand's chest rise and fall. Watched him gather himself before throwing his arm up over his eyes with a groan.

"Oh, Daniel, Don't apologize. I should apologize. I should have better self control. We only just got you home this morning."

No no no… fuck…

Daniel fixated on the flush in Armand's cheeks, the undone look of him. He let his gaze drop down to where Armand was splayed over his thighs, caught sight of the open fly of his boxers, stretched considerably by Armand's arousal. He could see just a couple centimeters of skin, he thought, edged by dark pubic hair. He wanted to grab for it, the way he would with any other guy he'd ever hooked up with, but he couldn't do that here. He controlled it. Instead, he raised his eyes back to Armand's.

"Oh," Armand breathed, having of course realized just where Daniel had been looking.

He began to push himself up, like he was going to climb off of Daniel entirely, but Daniel thought quick and threw his arms up above his head, crossing them at the wrist.

They stared at one another for what felt to Daniel like a long enough time to require a flustered attempt to explain.

"I won't use them," he said. "You can tie them up to be sure."

A long shot, he realized. He'd already miscalculated things on that front once, and that had nearly gotten him killed. Armand looked dubious in one moment, enlightened in the next.

"There's a belt," Daniel continued. "In the-"

"The top right drawer of your dresser. Yes. Are you certain?"

"Will you judge me harshly for trusting the guy who stabbed me less than 24 hours ago?"

Armand's jaw tightened as he seemed to think about that in earnest, and then he was gone. Daniel could hear the drawer down the hall pulling out, sliding shut again, and when Armand returned, he had the belt in one hand and his dick pressed down against his thigh with the other. Daniel presumed that was to prevent it from jutting out and tenting his shorts in comedic fashion. It was endearing, but Daniel wasn't sure if teasing was the right move here, so he let it go.

"Close your eyes, Daniel."

Yes, of course, anything…

He felt the cold leather wrap around his wrists and smelled the scent of his own fabric softener being heated by Armand's skin. His mouth watered and he began imagining what might come next. Maybe Armand would feed his cock to him. Maybe he'd feel its velvet head tapping for entry against his lips.

He felt his wrists being yanked, tested, and he managed to keep his eyes closed throughout until Armand's weight settled over his legs again, and at last, he was instructed to open his eyes.

"Look at me, Daniel."

Daniel blinked him back into focus, saw that he was perched just as pretty as he'd been before.

"Is it too tight?"

"No."

Armand worried at his bottom lip, unsure.

"I promise, babe… I'm golden."

"You don't have to keep them above your head. I'm worried it might tug on your stitches."

Daniel lowered them. "Sure thing, boss."

He watched Armand's nose wrinkle, all the concern evaporating from him as he began to laugh and Daniel nervously laughed alongside him.

"What?" he asked.

"You just do what I tell you to."

That was funny?

"Yeah. Is that…? Does that work for you or do I gotta find a way to be commanding with my wrists tied together?"

"I've never done anything like this. Not… Hm…"

Daniel felt certain he knew what the swallowed second half of that was going to be. It raised some questions, certainly, but Daniel could not allow himself to do more than file them away for another time.

Not now, not now. For the love of god, don't reduce this guy's first sexual encounter in five years to an investigative probe.

"Well, it's sort of something I'm into. So."

"I think it might be something I'm sort of into, as well."

Daniel flattened his palms together like he was about to start praying and nodded his head. "All yours, then." He let his fingers fold in together and gently rested his hands on his belly, just to the side of his bandage.

At first, Armand seemed overwhelmed with choice. His eyes raked Daniel over, landing on his chest, then his face, then his groin. He reached for the waistband of Daniel's sweatpants, silently checking with him one last time and receiving one more nod of assent before he was rolling them down Daniel's hips.

Daniel's erection was somewhat lazy — drugs would do that, but he'd never had a problem going full mast once the moment of action came. Armand's breath stuttered as he lifted the material over the swell of it. He stopped a moment to take it in, looking almost pained at the sight which always got Daniel going. He couldn't keep his pride from his face and when Armand raised his eyes to it, he returned a coy smile.

"Is it bigger in person?" Daniel asked, diffusing the tension.

Armand didn't answer the question. "Can I take these off as well?"

"Go for it."

Daniel lifted his hips a bit to help, wincing when his stomach tensed with the effort.

"Oh dear," Armand frowned. He placed a gentle hand over Daniel's bandage, more pain but this time soothing Daniel into relaxing his muscles again. "If it's going to be a struggle, let it be mine."

Daniel did as he was told, compliant and passive as Armand stripped him free of his pants, tossing those away to join his forgotten shirt. He was naked, now, and vulnerable. Armand could easily overpower him if he panicked and fought, but he felt no desire to despite how the tiniest, beaten-back voice in his head was reminding him of all of Armand's crimes, all the shit Daniel still didn't know about him.

He'd risked it for less, though. Countless times. And the gambling he'd done on needles and junk in the past had had deadlier odds. He felt certain Armand didn't want to hurt him. Not in any way that harmed, that was. It seemed to Daniel like there was a hefty potential for the man to possess a streak of untapped sadism. In fact, it seemed to Daniel like they might be on the precipice of discovery there.

"I can touch you?" Armand asked.

"Yes. Maybe you should tape my mouth closed, while you're at it."

"I can't tell if you're joking…"

Laughing, Daniel shook his head. "I'm just saying, do what you want. Don't ask me if it's okay. I wanna see what does it for you."

Armand licked his lips, ran his fingers down Daniel's lower belly, between his hips and into the thatch of hair above his dick before touching him in a way that Daniel could only classify as a pet. "So you'll be observing me back…"

He couldn't answer. Colors were unfurling behind his eyelids like drops of dye in water. Armand's too-gentle touch was relief and torture married. When Daniel's eyes slid open again, Armand was focused on him, head cocked.

"Is that all you're going to do?"

"Still want me to tape your mouth shut?" Armand countered.

Yeah, this seemed to be Armand's element alright. Whether he, too, was only now discovering it for the first time, Daniel couldn't say. But he was good in this role.

"No…"

Armand wrapped his hands around him at last and Daniel filled out nicely, then, strained in his fist, but still Armand did not tug him or squeeze him. Instead, he studied him, pulled him to one side, ran one exploring finger up the vein there, and then laid him flat against his belly, sliding a knuckle up the bottom side, nudging at his frenulum and making him desperate.

His chest vibrated with a moan that barely registered as his own and he clenched his hands together tighter, watching Armand's curious expression. He supposed he couldn't possibly have known what to expect from the guy. So far, all he knew was that Armand insisted he wasn't inexperienced, had a singular past relationship that seemed to have been imbalanced at best, and was taking in a steady stream of hardcore pornography. He was touching Daniel's dick like it was the first one he'd ever gotten his hands on, however. Even if it'd been a while, even if it'd been five years, Daniel didn't think you'd forget how to ride the bike, so to speak.

But maybe he had.

Should probably temper my expectations here, he thought. There was no way Armand was going to get him off like this if that was his goal. Surely, he'd begin to stroke in earnest before long and Daniel would, of course, manage. He always did. But a mindblowing knockout handy was probably off the table.

Oddly, though, he didn't really seem to mind all that much. The eager puppy part of his caveman's brain was wagging its tail at the simple sight of being touched by Armand. Cool, slender hands on his obscenely, almost shamefully large cock. Only shameful in comparison to Armand's elegance, though. And that, too, was thrilling.

Tell me it's crude, tell me it's unmanageable and unwieldy, tell me you don't know what to do with it, tell me-

Oh.

Armand slid down his legs in one fluid motion, gripped him firm around the base, and bent his head to him, licking a long, slow stripe up the bottom.

It looked obscene, from Daniel's vantage. The most beautiful man in the world, his youthful halo of dark curls, his wide brown eyes, falling closed and then fluttering open and daring to make contact with Daniel's. He had to look away. At least until Armand's eyes were off his again, and then, even more unthinkably shocking, Armand swallowed him whole.

His mouth was hot, stretched to the brink around Daniel's girth, and he could feel his tight throat clicking around him as he swallowed him down. He felt a sick jolt of fear that Armand would hurt himself, that he'd get stuck in his throat and choke him to death, but then the squeeze of those swallowing muscles began to push him back out and Armand's head rose back off of him, lips disconnected from the head of his cock without a sound, one thin silky thread of drool the only thing keeping their contact.

The air was frigid cold in comparison to the warm hug of Armand's throat and he looked down to see that he was veritably coated in slick saliva, now. Armand ran his hand up and down him, pressing the pad of his thumb into his seam, pushing under the head of his cock and drawing a clear bead of sap from him before smearing it to mingle with his own spit.

"Jesus Christ," Daniel shook out.

Armand bent again and mouthed up the side of him, over the vein that always felt like static when pressed against, and then he was on Daniel again, bobbing up and down, sucking and lapping and moaning, himself. He used the slickness of his own spit to keep his lips wet, to glide over him without the least bit of resistance.

Daniel had never gotten head quite like this. He'd always prided himself on his own prowess and enthusiasm when he was on the giving end, and sure, he'd had some stellar blowjobs from some real good sports in his day, but this…

Even the optics of it.

Could it all be learned from porn, he wondered in the moments before he felt his orgasm begin to build far too soon for his liking.

His fingers twinged and he reached for Armand's hair with is bound hands, hesitating before Armand's free hand was guiding them into his curls, encouraging him to grip into them and practically purring when they did.

"Close," Daniel grit out.

Pornstar deep-throating skills or no, it was still bad form to ejaculate in someone's mouth prior to knowing how they took their tea. And he was beyond relieved that he'd managed to get the warning out because a half a second later, Armand was off him again, swollen lip bit between his teeth as he used the slick of his spit to pump Daniel's dick right on the beat of the music playing over the speakers, at the exact tempo that drove Daniel closer and closer to the finish line, eyes intent on the work his hand was doing, on Daniel's face, drinking in his pleasure with blown out black pupils.

And that, naturally, was that. Daniel came hard and fast, abandoning that innate anxiety he always seemed to get on the cusp of being brought to orgasm by a new partner — that they'd somehow fumble it in the final quarter, lose their stroke, let go or strangle. Armand worked him through it like he could read Daniel's mind and, while Daniel couldn't consider why that might've been in the moment for the explosion of chemicals in his head, the concentration of blood between his hips, and the base male fascination that came with watching one's own emission erupt out and mark whatever stood in its path as his own, it made a perfect kind of sense that would take shape moments later in the afterglow. He'd melted back against the pillow, Armand's hand gone lax around him, slowly pumping up, squeezing in the split second ahead of each ebbing contraction, drawing his pleasure out, intuiting it as it receded.

Fuck… fuuuuuckkkkk….

His head was in a daze, but the elementary explanation for why Armand was so specifically adept at getting him off was right there, knocking on the base of his skull.

He's watched me do it… Probably dozens of times now… He's studied for the test…

They were breathing in tandem, panting to get their bearings and Daniel had only a moment to glance down at the mess he'd made over his belly, on his bandage, before Armand was letting go of his dick and scooping it off of him with his fingers. He lifted the hem of his shirt -Daniel's shirt- and clamped it between his teeth, exposing his belly and making the tent in Daniel's boxers more apparent.

With sharp interest, Daniel watched him raise himself up and shuck off the boxers without ceremony and clamp his cum-coated hand around himself before Daniel even had the time to register it.

He couldn't bend his mind around anything coherent as Armand pumped himself, head thrown back while the shirt fell down over him once more, landing just above his belly and leaving an expanse of skin and muscle, bone and fat for Daniel to roam with his eyes. And his dick, which Daniel had gotten a sneak preview of on their first date, was flushed dark in his fist, lewd for the circumstances, but Daniel wished he'd had longer to appreciate it before Armand set in on himself.

There was nothing coy about him, now. He seemed not to have any resignations at all about Daniel watching him. It was hard to tell if he was even performing. He still managed his elegance, his neck long and his back arched, but he stared back at Daniel with a sort of vacancy that you only really ever saw in those who were truly lost to the indulgence. His cheeks glowed at the crest and he was slicked over with a sheen of perspiration, his breath coming in short gasps, his brows drawn up in bliss.

There was a sudden blooming contrast in the lower quadrant of Daniel's sight. He had to force himself to tear away from Armand to see what it was and even then, he raised his eyes back to up to him, his mind refusing to prioritize that he was suddenly bleeding through his bandage. That was, until Armand noticed.

The fog lifted from him and he stopped his hand, jerking upright and staring down at Daniel's belly.

"Please," Daniel stupidly begged, "don't stop. Don't stop, just…"

"Daniel," Armand gasped, free hand trembling and reaching for the gauze, touching down where it was growing wet and spreading.

"Don't even feel it, just… c'mon, babe, lemme see you…"

Looking torn, Armand retreated. He licked his lips and squeezed his eyes closed, concentrating on killing his concern and getting back into it. He took up his stroking again and to Daniel's shock and delight, he brought his red-tinged fingers to his own throat as his head fell back and trailed them down to leave a slight bloody smear there before he tilted his head back down and lifted them to his lips. He sucked them in while staring into Daniel's eyes.

He's fucking insane… He's insane…

"Ahhh…" He cried out, hips jerking as he shot over Daniel's stomach and up his chest.

He felt each hot pelt against his room-chilled skin and shuddered as Armand seemed to come for ages, teasing it out of himself just the way he'd done with Daniel, wilting with it, shoulders curling in around him, slumping until he was held up by one hand on Daniel's hip, his head drooping while he panted to recover.

He was cooling on Daniel's belly and chest, now, and Daniel thought with some discomfort that his own cum must be ice cold and unpleasant in Armand's hand.

"We should…"

"Yes," Armand agreed, sounding as sated as he appeared. "I'll have to…" He shook his head, ringlets bouncing back from his face. "I'll have to clean you up and change your bandage. I hope we haven't done too much damage."

"Shit, you could've ripped me open and stuck your fist in there and I probably wouldn't have found much to complain about after all that…"

Armand regarded him with a strange look, not the revulsion or the confusion Daniel might've expected following that statement, but something else. He feared, momentarily, that Armand might be considering it.

"You, uh… That was…" Daniel had begun speaking before his brain had fully formed the thought. "You're really good," he said, grimacing once it was out.

"I have a skill."

Armand climbed off of him, holding his dirtier hand aloft and giving Daniel an unobstructed view of his still-swollen cock.

"You look incredible like this."

"Daniel, you're bleeding through…"

"Yeah, it won't kill me. God. I mean, look at you…"

He followed Armand with his eyes as long as he could, heard him turning the tap on in the kitchen and washing his hands. He decided not to comment on the fact that his own hands were still bound. There was something kind of relaxing about having no choice but to wait.

"I'm sure the blood donors who supplied that blood would not be pleased to hear how dispassionate you're being about losing it."

"Well, it's sort of getting in the way of our basking."

Armand returned with a damp dishcloth and knelt beside Daniel, wiping his belly clean before wiping down his own dick, now flaccid, and slipping Daniel's boxers back on. "I'll be back with a fresh bandage and disinfectant. Try to be still. If we've popped a stitch, we'll have to go back to the hospital and I won't be able to drive you."

"Can I get a kiss?" Daniel asked.

The grave look left Armand and he pressed a chaste kiss to Daniel's cheek. "I wish we could curl up together as much as you do, Daniel, but I won't risk infection."

That was fair. Daniel'd flirted with sepsis plenty in his life, but never with a target quite so big. Better not to risk it. He stole one more kiss and then let Armand go.

He allowed himself to be cleaned up properly, the bandage peeled back, his stitches inspected and then disinfected and redressed. His hands were finally released after that, wrists gently massaged by Armand's soothing fingers, though they really weren't even red where the belt had held them together. Armand had turned the stereo system off and let the apartment grow quiet as the sun began to set and it grew darker. Daniel felt sleepy, like a baby after a bath, and after working with Armand to get his t-shirt and sweats back on, he began to doze off under the heavy blanket Armand laid over him.

"Good," Armand said, bending to kiss his forehead. "You should get some rest."

"What're you gonna do?" Daniel mumbled, lids too heavy to open.

"I'm going to rest as well. I imagine when you wake, you'll be in need of another dose."

"Mmm… Wish you could stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Daniel."

"Mean… here…"

He faded out.

 

---

 

Armand stood watch over him a while, feeling fond. He wished it could be different. He wanted so badly to fold himself up and tuck himself into Daniel's side as he slept, but the sofa simply wasn't big enough for the both of them and Daniel needed all the rest he could get. So, with the endorphins still coursing through him, Armand set about cleaning up the living room and, at last, dragging himself to the bedroom to crawl into the waterbed.

He'd set Daniel's alarm, giving himself a good three hours to nap if Daniel's pain didn't wake him up first, and attempted to get comfortable with the bed's rolling wave. If it weren't for his recent orgasm and all the adrenaline of the last two days finally draining out of him, he might not have managed to sleep at all.

But, as the water warmed to the temperature he'd set and grew still around him, he did manage, and when he woke, it was not to Daniel's groans of discomfort, or to the sound of the alarm clock, but rather, to a knock at the door.

 

Chapter 18: A bit of charm

Summary:

An impromptu dinner party leads to discovery

It wasn't a shock who opened the door, of course -Louis wasn't expecting Daniel to be up and about so soon- it was just that he'd never, in all the years he'd lived in this building, seen Armand so… stripped down.

"Oh. Hey…"

It'd knocked him off his game a little. He hadn't exactly rehearsed what he was going to say when the door opened, he never really had trouble with that sort of thing. Flying off the cuff was his specialty. However, being confronted with a bed-tousled Armand dressed only in a faded old t-shirt and underwear had been so outside the realm of his imagined possibility that it'd gummed up his cognitive cogs.

"Louis," Armand said without even bothering to step a little behind the door to obscure himself. "Is there something-"

Quickly, Louis held the wine bottle in his fist up. "I've got Lestat making a grocery run. I heard from Claudia that you two were stocking up on frozen dinners and, well… where I come from, the community's failing at its job if one of its own ain't eatin' home-cooked for every meal in a time of crisis, so I thought…"

Armand blinked blearily at the wine bottle. "I don't know if Daniel should be-"

"No, of course, the wine's mostly for us. A little wine while we make dinner."

"Dinner…"

It was almost grudging the way he felt charmed by Armand in this just-woke-up state. He clocked his own eyes roaming low, down his chest and to his thighs -and what a pair of thighs- and snapped them back up. He got caught, momentarily, on two finger-swipes of dried blood on the man's throat, and quickly reminded himself that Daniel had been stitched up and bandaged recently and that he'd been discharged into Armand's care. The blood was likely his, and it'd probably gotten onto Armand's throat through purely innocent means. "If you think he's rested enough for company, of course. He's your charge after all."

As quick as that development had come…

"He'll likely be waking shortly for another dose of his pain medication. You can come inside."

The door was opened wider to him as Armand retreated back into the dark apartment to flip on the light. Louis closed the door behind him, let his socked feet pad lightly on the carpet while he moved further in, and peered at Daniel's sleeping form on the couch, blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Uh, I noticed you've… you've got a little something on your neck," Louis said as they made their way. "Looks like blood?"

"Ah." Armand licked at his thumb and wiped at his throat with it as he moved into the kitchen. He opened a cabinet and took down a single wine glass, seeming to know just where to look.

Louis swallowed down the discomfort. Chastised himself for it, knowing that Daniel had been discharged from the hospital without any discovery of transmittable blood borne disease. He could've kicked himself for the thought that came next. 'Despite'…

Despite what?

That fleeting glint of prejudice tasted sour on his tongue. He swallowed it.

What a welcome to the big city. Poor guy…

But he was content to roll his tongue around the thought that followed. Armand seemed real familiar with Daniel's apartment…

Not that strange. He'd struck up with Daniel, which of course Louis already knew. Maybe they've been spending more time together in here than you realized.

He had been notably distracted lately, after all.

"Just one glass?" Louis asked, approaching the counter and setting the bottle in front of Armand. "I brought the wine to share. I've got Lestat picking up a bottle of port for the pie, too."

Armand pulled out a drawer and retrieved a corkscrew as well before setting about opening the bottle. "Pie?" he repeated, removing the cork with all the grace of a trained sommelier.

Louis watched, dumbfounded as he poured with just as much finesse before lifting the glass and offering it to him.

"Thanks. Yeah. I was thinking… well, there wasn't any guessing involved in what you guys might be in the mood for, so…"

"That's very thoughtful."

Armand's eyes, at last, seemed to have blinked all the sleep away and they stared at him with open interest as he took the first sip of the Pinot Noir.

"Thank you," Louis added an awkwardly intense beat later. "I apologize for interrupting your nap. You surely needed it."

"Hah, yes… An excruciatingly long night we had last night. But I am so grateful he's alright."

"Yeah," Louis nodded. "Me too. Are we going to wake him talking like this?"

"Mm'wake," Daniel grumbled from the sofa, drawing their attention.

From Louis' vantage, that only appeared to be a half-truth. Daniel's eyes were still closed and his hand slid from his chest under the blanket to dangle off the side of the sofa, fingers grazing the floor.

The pair exchanged a fond look before Louis lowered his voice to a whisper. "Well… he'll certainly wake up when Lestat's loud ass gets in…"

---

Caught in the membrane between waking life and dreaming, Daniel made the unfortunate decision to try to roll over.

"OW-ow ow ow… Owwwwww…"

"Oh dear."

He froze still, the light behind his eyelids blinding him every time he blinked them open, and sunk his teeth into the palm of his hand to pacify himself. He was disoriented by the pain, the waking, the light in the room and the impossibility of knowing what time of day or night it could be.

"He alright?"

Gentle hands were on him, cool on his cheek, firm against his belly where the pain sung out and shocked the breath out of his lungs. A shadow fell over his face and, finally, he could open his eyes.

Armand was bent over him, halo of light around his head, making his now-dry curls shine and glow.

"He's alright, he just startled himself waking."

"Didn't startle," Daniel managed weakly. "Hurts…"

"Let me see."

The blanket was pulled down and his shirt was lifted. He was so tender around his belly and Armand's fingers grazed his over-sensitive skin there a moment before the shirt fell back over him, just as his skin was beginning to prick up with a chill, tugging at the stitches which was almost a separate kind of discomfort from the phantom re-stabbing he'd felt a moment ago.

"You should have more morphine," Armand said. "I'll be right back, don't move."

It was then that Daniel recalled the other voice he'd just heard. He thought better than to turn his head, to try to sit up and confirm for himself that it'd been Louis he'd heard.

"Alright," Armand again, back so soon and once more blocking out the glow of the track lights above. "Head back, mouth open, tongue up."

Yes, yes, and yes. Anything to make the fucking pain stop…

A dangerous mantra, but thank god for Nurse Armand. He felt the cold spread under his tongue and he sighed out in almost immediate relief.

"There. Good," Armand soothed, hand petting over the top of his head.

"That bad, Danny?"

Ah, so it was Louis after all.

"Not exactly a tickle," Daniel grunted as Armand left him once more. "Where are you? What time is it?"

He could hear Louis laugh from somewhere behind him. "Who's the president?"

"I've just been stabbed, don't make me talk about President Raglan…"

Louis' slender figure slid into the frame of his vision and Daniel turned his neck on his pillow, squinting to take him in.

"What're you doing in my apartment?"

Again, Louis laughed. "Rude. I'll give you a pass because I know you're doped up and suffering. I came over to make dinner for you. No way you're recovering with the help of the Freezer King." He lifted his wrist to check the time. "It's 7:15pm by my watch, and I'm right here, Danny. Been having a glass and talking to Armand about how glad we are that you're still with us."

Louis… talking to Armand… having a glass and talking to Armand in my apartment…

Maybe he was still dreaming.

"Yes," Armand's voice joined the mix again. "Louis and Lestat are being very kind and neighborly, offering to make dinner for all of us."

"Huh. Okay. What're we having?"

The slow spread of the medicine in him was making him agreeable, but he rationalized within himself that he was always agreeable to being cooked for. Hell, one might argue that he'd even been a little too agreeable to being stabbed.

"Chicken pot pie," Louis said. "With a Cajun twist. Lestat'll be back in just-"

A knock on the door interrupted and Louis whirled around. "Oh, that'll be him now…"

"Would you like me to help you sit up, Daniel? So you can feel more a part of the gathering?"

Everything went a little off-kilter as Armand lifted him under the arms, helped him turn to sit upright on the sofa, and propped a pillow behind him. He was certain he'd have been capable of doing all of this on his own, but he kinda liked the fuss, to be honest. Kinda liked the feel of Armand's hands on him, too. The little shiver of memory it brought back, how they'd spent the moments before he'd drifted off to sleep, wiped clean and sated. The circumstances he'd woken to were so surreal that he was failing to question why Armand was still clad in only a t-shirt and boxers. It didn't occur to him that it was odd outside of the logic of dreams until Lestat was swanning his way into the apartment with shopping bags adorning his arms, boisterously listing off all the ingredients he'd managed to get, the drinkability of the port he'd selected, and the discounted fine chocolates he'd procured for a dessert.

He stopped in his tracks, not yet relieved of the shopping bags weighing his arms down, and gaped in Armand's direction. "Mon dieu. Tu ne portes que ta culotte bouffante."

Louis seemed to hid a smirk behind his glass while Armand approached to help with the groceries, unfazed by whatever it was Lestat had remarked.

"Ah, yes," Armand said. "I was distracted. Of course I'll put something on once we get these unpacked."

Daniel wiggled his fingers and considered pinching himself to be sure he was awake. He watched Lestat stand statue still in place while Armand took bag after bag from him and set them on the kitchen counter, while Louis placed his glass on the coffee table to join in helping.

"I don't believe I've ever seen quite so much of you, Armand," Lestat went on after he was fully free from the bags. "Please excuse me for being so blunt, but you really do age yourself when you put on those old suits you love so well."

"Lestat…"

Louis shot him a look, as if to say 'don't be rude', but Daniel tended to agree, and judging by the way Armand smiled coyly to himself, allowing his curls to fall in front of his eyes, he didn't think any offense was being taken. Rather, Armand seemed quite flattered.

"I like to keep professional when I work," Armand said, unpacking the bags and laying out the ingredients with Louis' help. "It's good to keep things separated, I think."

Daniel's cheeks got hot when he noticed both Louis and Lestat giving one another a sly look before raking their gazes over him.

"I'm the exception," Daniel said. "But it should be noted that I'm the one who asked him out…"

"Ahh, bon, he's not too medicated to speak." Lestat made his way to stand in front of Daniel, hands on his hips. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the lucky worm that fell off the hook."

"Le plus chanceux," Lestat purred before seeming to catch the scent of something in the air. He sniffed, narrowed his eyes, and then to Daniel's horror, he bent towards him and sniffed again before turning his head in the direction of Louis and Armand in the kitchen. "Oh, nurse, I think our boy may be in need of a sponge bath already."

Daniel's nose scrunched and he bent to sniff himself. "Am I really that bad?"

"You reek of hospital and spunk, mon ami."

He was so surprised by the frank assertion that he let his mouth open to respond before he'd given himself the time to think how. "Dope makes me dream like I'm 14 again."

Lestat's lip curled. "And you've been left to sit in your own mess? Armand, this is really shameful."

"The boy just woke up, Lestat. Stop embarrassing him and come help out in here."

"He's joking," Armand interjected. "The solution I was given to help keep the area clean has a… familiar odor."

Good cover, babe…

Never mind how easily the lie had seemed to come to him.

Daniel sat in his comfortable stupor, listening to their din and chatter as they began preparations, feeling no more a part of things when he was all the way on the sofa and the three of them were moving about in the kitchen. It seemed that Louis required enough help with preparing the kitchen that Armand was continuously distracted from going to put more clothes on and the drugs Daniel was on couldn't keep the obvious reason for that from dawning on him.

He listened to Lestat flirt openly, now and then feeling a violin string's pluck of anxiety about it. Did Louis mind? Would they begin to argue? Was a lover's quarrel going to break out in his own kitchen while he was too stabbed and high to do anything about it? He even found himself considering that Armand's bare thighs might be the equalizer here. A peace-keeping pair of totems, and why wouldn't they be?

"Have you an apron somewhere, Daniel?" Lestat's deep voice pierced through the cotton candy web of anxious thought cottoning up Daniel's skull. "Louis is wearing Barbieri and we wouldn't want him getting flour all over himself."

"Oh, uh…"

"He hasn't got any aprons," Armand supplied. "But he does have some novelty t-shirts I'm sure he wouldn't mind getting a little messy."

Daniel remembered the over-sized mermaid shirt, imagined Louis working in the kitchen while swimming in it, and began to laugh so hard it hurt.

"He's laughing," Lestat stated. "Is this a side effect of the drugs?"

"I don't need an apron," Louis protested. "I'm not nearly as messy as some people. There's a reason I don't let Lestat into the kitchen with me when I cook."

"I thought it was because I distract you."

Daniel had hardly recovered when he turned to see Louis, spreading flour out on his counter with Lestat boxing him in from behind, bending into his neck and pressing him forward against the counter where he, inevitably, caused the front of Louis' sweater to drag against the white powder. It sent Daniel into another fit of giggles as Louis cursed.

"Il trouvé ça drôle," Lestat muttered against Louis' neck.

Daniel flitted his attention to Armand who was stood just a few feet behind them, eyes wide and lip bit while he watched the display that Daniel wasn't entirely sure wasn't meant for him.

Weird. This is so WEIRD.

"Ah!" Lestat left Louis' backside and whirled around to face Armand. "Well, I suppose a little mess never hurt anyone. Armand, I should like some wine."

Immediately, Armand was turning for the cabinet to take down the only other glass Daniel possessed.

"Oh, but what about you?" Lestat asked as Armand poured his wine.

"Think maybe he wants to put some pants on before he starts drinking," said Louis. "Don't blame him."

"Daniel only has the two glasses," explained Armand.

"Oh, that's right. Damn. I meant to pick some up as a gift…"

Lestat set the glass on the counter and clapped his hands. "Well. I'll just run next door and grab a few more. We've plenty to spare."

"I don't know that I should, with Daniel in his state and-"

"Daniel," Lestat addressed him directly, keeping his eyes trained on Armand. "Do you think Armand should be kept from having a little fun on your account?"

Clever.

And Daniel felt his alignment with Lestat on this front forging itself like steel. He definitely agreed that Armand should have some wine. Seeing Armand loosen up -never mind seeing him slinking around in next to nothing- felt like the true road to recovery.

"Have some wine, boss."

Well. That seemed to settle it.

Lestat left them again and Armand disappeared down the hall, at last, to put something on. To his and Louis' disappointment, he imagined.

"We should see about propping you up here at the counter, Danny," Louis said loudly, clearly trying to make him feel included.

"I don't know if Armand would trust me on one of those bar stools."

"I wouldn't!" Armand's voice shouted down the way, making them both laugh. "But if it's what he wishes…"

Daniel's head craned as Armand's voice grew nearer, as he emerged from the hall wearing the same faded t-shirt with the addition of a pair of Daniel's old sweatpants. It was almost more obscene, the way their weight hung off his hips. They were already a bit loose on Daniel from years of wear and all the elastic going out, but on Armand…

Daniel could see the vein on his hip under the hem of shirt. He wondered if Armand had shucked the boxers entirely or if they'd just ridden down with the waistband of the sweats. And another property of the material's weight; Daniel could see the outline of the top of Armand's cock. He'd go as far as to confirm he could accurately estimate his flaccid girth from the way the material draped it.

He shot a glance over at Louis on the other side of the counter and saw that his eyes, too, were laser-focused on it.

"Don't you look… comfy," Louis stated.

"We really gotta get you some lounge wear of your own," said Daniel, hoping the lust in his voice could be masked over by the fact that he was a little medically stoned.

Lestat re-entered the apartment a second later, a third glass in his hand and a white apron slung over his shoulder. "Now we can get things started," he announced, breezing into the kitchen and placing the third glass on the counter before taking his place once more behind Louis, fitting him in the apron in a show almost more intimate than the neck-kisses had been. Upon tying the strings around Louis' tiny waist, he went to take his own glass back up and leaned back against the counter, finally getting his eyeful of Armand.

"Oh… You put on pants, finally."

"Disappointed?" Louis asked with a smirk.

"Non. Those… Well, they suit you…"

Pouring his own wine finally, Armand smiled and Daniel thought, even from his distance, that he saw a hint of color in his cheeks.

"Thank you."

"What happened to moving me to the counter?" Daniel whined. "I'm lonely over here and everyone's drinking without me."

"Daniel, you are high," Lestat reminded him.

"Been a lot higher. C'mon." He reached his arms up into the air like a child wanting to be picked up.

Louis snorted. Armand huffed out a sigh, setting his glass down before he'd even managed his first sip. He came to Daniel's aid, allowed him to sling an arm around his shoulder and walked him to the counter where he helped him up onto the stool, made extra sure he was stable, and then planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Mmmhm," Louis hummed, glancing at them through his lashes as he worked. "What's it been for you two? Not even a month, right?"

That was confronting. Daniel was still getting his bearings on the stool, the view of an apron-clad and quite capable pie-dough kneading Louis right in front of him making his brain feel even more sluggish. "Oh, I think it's been…."

"Around two weeks," Armand supplied, finally having a drink from his glass. "Oh, this is good."

"Two weeks…" Louis whistled. "Suppose nothing gets the ball rolling like a brush with death."

Two strong, warm hands on Daniel's shoulders, squeezing and massaging him into goo.

"I've heard there's no quicker acting aphrodisiac."

When did he get there…?

"That right?" asked Louis, sounding dubious, but playing along.

"Oh, yes, mon cher. There have been several studies." Lestat’s thumbs began turning tight circles in the meat behind Daniel's shoulder blades and it was heaven.

Had Daniel ever had a shoulder rub from anyone he wasn't actively sleeping with? He didn't think so… Did it matter?

Fuck, that's good.

He felt himself slumping forward, caught Armand's watchful and concerned eye on him as he rested his elbows on the counter and then placed his chin on top.

"I suppose we did make a week of it after that wreck we got into upstate," Louis conceded.

"Ah, yes. Neither one of us sustained a scratch, but still, it was so frightening. We wanted to do nothing but lie in bed for days."

"Careful, now, or you're gonna put the boy back to sleep."

"Nnn, don't stop…" Daniel objected.

He was still pretty awake, he thought. He just needed to get Armand to come down from that tree. Then they could fill up this bucket with water from the pond behind his house.

---

Never in his life had Armand found himself in a kitchen, sipping wine and talking with other adults as dinner was prepared. He didn't need a costume to feel like an adult here, he was simply being regarded as one.

And another thing; the electric little thrill that came with having a room full of men who clearly had their eyes on him, and not the eyes of any old lechers, but the eyes of the very men he fancied, himself. And he'd caught the attention of every last one of them this evening. Daniel, of course, was granted, and he knew Lestat had an appreciation for him that was kept at a careful distance, but Louis…

Louis had never looked at him with anything close to the desire Armand read on his face this evening. He'd almost lamented having to put on Daniel's sweatpants. The reaction he got leaving the bedroom, well, he hadn't anticipated that. It made him want to perform for them, to preen and sway his hips when he walked, but when he considered why that was, where that instinct in him came from, he felt the urge to shrink in on himself in shame. So he tried not to think about any of that. In fact, he tried to imagine himself, Armand, the suave and capable keeper of these towers, so sophisticated and well-liked amongst his tenants that he was invited to dinner parties sometimes. Daniel, his novelist boyfriend, well… he'd gotten into a bit of a jam and here they were, with friends, making the best of their circumstances and celebrating one another with a communal meal.

"I hope you don't mind me putting my paws all over him, Armand. For someone on medical grade dope, he is a little tense in the shoulders."

Armand snapped up from his own reflection in the surface of the Pinot Noir to Lestat, whose large hands were still at work on Daniel's neck and shoulders while he rested his head against his arms on the counter, looking blissed out and half-conscious.

"No," he answered with an amenable smile. "If he likes the way it feels then it pleases me."

Lestat gave him an odd look, and after that, he saw that an even odder one was thrown to Louis, whose face he could not see from where he stood, and he wondered:

Have I said something strange?

He hadn't meant to. It was just that he was feeling so warm and so happy, the wine in his hand and the smell of Louis' preparations so delicious and so rare a treat. He straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

I should mind myself better.

"Well," Lestat spoke, his voice registering even lower than usual, more seduction behind it, "perhaps my goal is to make him feel so good and so loose that he divulges what else pleases you…"

Armand’s mind went fuzzy around the edges at the thought of Daniel answering. There were some answers they’d found between them now.

"Alright," Louis cut in, tossing a half a carrot so that it landed right in front of Daniel's arms where his head was rested. "Don't get too carried away. They're still feeling things out."

"What a tragedy," Lestat went on, snapping up the carrot and taking a bite off the end, "to find yourselves in a position where you must abstain right at the onset of what I must imagine is an incredibly charged attraction. Landlord and tenant. One of whom is a best selling author of what I hear is an incredibly erotic vampire novel."

"You still haven't read it?" Daniel's voice came muffled from his arms, making them all chuckle fondly.

Lestat bent to his ear to whisper -and Armand was certain he saw a shiver run through Daniel when he did- "Mon ami… it's been an eventful week, not just for you…”

“You get him to read something other than the lifestyle section of Boss and I will come back and make this pie crust from scratch.”

Lestat scoffed, retreating at the jab but clearly not too put-out as he slid back on to the seat of his stool. Daniel snored lightly between them, and Armand found himself petting his hair without a thought. With Louis setting to work at the stove, he hardly noticed the silence that had fallen in the room until he looked up to find Lestat smiling fondly at him, pointing his way with the carrot stick.

“Would you believe it took two months for Louis to even consider giving me his phone number?”

“Here he goes,” Louis sighed.

“One enchanted evening ignoring every other patron at L'inclinaison, tucked up in a corner booth until we finally sought the privacy of my temporary lodgings, and he leaves behind the phone number for a Chinese restaurant.”

“Hey, not just any Chinese restaurant.”

“Yes, yes, Madame Mei’s dumplings were delicious. It was still a terribly low blow.”

“Tellin’ me about how he was a ballet dancer, how he had all this money but it was tied up in a trust.”

“All true.”

"You require more than a bit of charm and a dancer's body to win you over?" Armand asked, pretending as though he did not know exactly what Louis found attractive in men and that oftentimes it really was just that nakedly shallow.

"Simply put, I wasn't buyin' what he was sellin'."

"Which was?"

"That he was some kind of fairytale prince, come to sweep me away from the toil. Just a few short years and he'd be able to provide a lavish lifestyle, ballets and operas on the weekends, bumping elbows with New Graven's upper crust as if that was something to aspire to do."

"Yes," Lestat finished the last bite of the carrot, crunching as he twirled around the counter, placing himself between Louis' back and Armand where he was leaning, affecting a casual pose. "Well, this was before light had been shed on where certain members of our upper crust's tax write-offs were being donated, of course…"

'A bit of charm' might've been an understatement. Armand couldn't help dazzling a little when Lestat made eye contact with him as he boxed him in against the counter where he stood, reaching for the drawer behind his hip as though he knew just where to find whatever it was he was looking for, as though he couldn't have just asked and instead would be required to check every last drawer on his own, beginning with the least convenient of them.

"Pardon…"

For a moment, Armand did not move. Could not. He was trapped, his only way out to sidestep with a foot that refused to lift from the floor. His eyes dropped when he spoke, both hands cupping around his wine glass as though it were the carefully kept barrier that might protect him from Lestat's further advances.

"Perhaps I can help you find what you're looking for?" he asked, sounding to his own ears like a squeaking mouse.

When he lifted his eyes again, Lestat's were scanning back up him as well and Armand gave a quick glance down to see that the jut of his hips from his leaning had him unignorably and a little indecently on display.

Ah…

"A knife, my pet. Louis wouldn't dare evict me from a kitchen that wasn't his own. I'm going to speed things along."

"That's a bold assumption," Louis warned.

The fingers of Armand's right hand slowly pried from the glass and he pointed to a block on the other side of the kitchen, near where Louis was set up. "The knives are right there."

"Merci," Lestat said with a wink.

"Better not cut yourself. Another trip to the hospital's the last thing we need."

Armand smiled at the way Louis pronounced 'hospital', with the accent on the third syllable, and watched Lestat join his side, bumping him out of the way with his hip. He listened to Lestat yarn on about all the ways he wore Louis down and finally managed to win his affections, hopping up onto the counter and letting his toes dangle while he happily sipped his wine.

"S'called stalking," Daniel muttered groggily as Louis and Lestat's love story concluded at last.

"See?" Louis crowed. "Thank you, Daniel."

"Well it worked, did it not? And here we are, living in the most sought after building in all of New Graven with the most luxurious views from every window, careers we love, good wine, home-made meals when we aren't dining out…"

"And thank you, Marius de Romanus," Louis tacked on with more than a hint of sarcasm.

Armand had been absorbing the secondhand praise, unprepared to hear the name. It nearly shocked the wine glass right out of his hand. He fumbled, managing to keep it from falling to the tile and shattering. He hopped down from the counter and caught Daniel's eye.

What did he see there exaclty? Suspicion? Sympathy?

"I'm just going to run to the restroom," he said quickly with a forced smile. He drained the rest of his wine after excusing himself and placed the empty glass on the counter before making his way around.

"Hey…"

His journey was stopped short by a finger catching in the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He turned to face Daniel's concern.

"Do you need something Daniel? Do you have all that you require?"

"Yeah, just…"

Armand was tugged closer by the crook of Daniel's finger in his waistband.

"The pain's not breaking through, is it?"

"No. I'm alright."

Their guests' eyes were on them, Armand could feel their curious scrutiny, like they were anticipating something. Maybe the same thing Daniel seemed to be anticipating. It felt as though something was meant to happen now, he was expected to act. The heat in him, whipped up by wine and by the attention of Daniel, Louis, and Lestat; three inamoratos in one place and time, on the same side of the wall as himself, it was all making him a little giddy. He felt a smile spread over his wine-warm face and a small laugh bubbled up from his chest.

"Not laughing at me, are you?" Daniel asked. "Can't a man with a stab-wound feel a little needy?"

"I just don't know what you want…"

His eyes were on Daniel, but he spoke to the room.

"Think it's pretty obvious," Lestat offered. "The boy would like you to kiss him."

Ah. Well, Armand could certainly do that. He placed one right in the center of Daniel's forehead and watched him pantomime a dizzy sway, like he might topple right off the stool. It got Armand in the moment and he clapped a stabilizing palm on his shoulder in earnest only to be met with puckered lips and closed eyes.

"What?" he asked, laughing again. "Another?"

"Can you blame him?" Lestat went on. "That was hardly a kiss."

The heat in his cheeks turned to embarrassment suddenly. Perhaps a deeper kiss was customary in these situations In his experiences, affection was kept behind closed doors and only ever performed in front of sanctioned company. There was nobody to make the rules anymore. There was he and Daniel and perhaps it was perfectly normal for Daniel to anticipate a deeper kiss from him in front of company. Perhaps he'd been silly to be so precious in the preceding few seconds.

Besides… If Louis and Lestat's appetites were anything like his own, he might be hitting three birds with one stone. That was a powerful feeling. If he could stir up desire in the three of them…

Then what? He asked himself, drawing closer to Daniel and pushing his fingers into his curls, pulling him close by the back of his head and kissing his drowsy lips slow and deep, licking his way past his teeth, a little dry and cottony, but waking up, growing wet with the reciprocal hunger. The gasps of their witting audience scored the kiss and Armand hoped that they were pleased.

When Armand pulled away, Daniel appeared even more lost than he'd been at the top of his entreaty.

"May I be excused now?" Armand asked.

Permission was granted in garbled unison by the three of them and Armand went on his merry way, putting a hallway and a bedroom's distance between them, then closing himself on the other side of the bathroom door, pressing his back flat against it and sliding down. He worried his finger against his thumb and brought them to his lips, rubbed the knuckle of his thumb back and forth and smiled privately to himself.

He hadn't had the time, yet, to process his afternoon dalliance with Daniel. The solution had been so simple and so obvious, he couldn't believe he hadn't considered it sooner. And he hadn't panicked. He'd enjoyed his unobstructed access to Daniel's body and its responses, and then he'd enjoyed himself. And it hadn't seemed to disappoint Daniel in the least. He hadn't, as he'd feared, fallen short. Whether or not he could hold Daniel's interest with using this method, however, remained to be seen. There was still the nagging fear that once Daniel recovered his strength, he'd be hungry for more. He'd want to get his hands on Armand.

Men always did.

And was he tempting that sort of danger tonight? Had his behavior been a little on the tawdry side? With recent events being what they were, Armand had to wonder if he was putting on a bit too much of a show. For Daniel, for Louis… for Lestat.

He'd known Lestat's touch once. It'd been a night rivaled only by this night; one of the happiest nights of Armand's life. He'd been Amadeo, then, of course, and the Palazzo's second floor had been a ballroom still. A 12' Christmas Tree decorated the space, towering in the center and professionally trimmed. Lights twinkled all around. They hung from the walls, making everything glow, and everyone was in costume, dressed as lords and ladies from ages past, dancing and chattering with twinkling cut-crystal cordial glasses in hand, filled with red and green liqueurs. Amadeo had been dressed in a blue velvet tunic with gilded embroidery and tights that itched against the darkening hair of his legs. He'd loathed it. Thought it made him look like a child. Riccardo, whose beard had long come in, was dressed like a young man of the period and Amadeo was catching up to him in height, only one inch shorter. He'd felt ridiculous standing by his side for the photo they'd taken, a whole head taller than the other Palazzo boys who were dressed in tunics like him. He'd wanted to shrink away, make himself small and unassuming, but he found himself nevertheless roped into the festivities, swept around the room on the arms of guests, complimented, and fawned over. Women pinched the material of his tunic between their fingers, commented on how fine, touched the jewels around his wrists, on his fingers, petted his curls. The men clapped gruff hands on his shoulders, gripped his elbows, made vulgar jokes about how he'd be a Casanova one day, like his esteemed sponsor. Occasionally, he'd receive a pinch on the behind, sometimes it'd hurt and he'd have to keep up the smile on his face to cover his surprise and his pain.

That had been the night he'd finally met Lestat, face to face. After nearly a year of seeing his name in the headlines, hearing Marius speak so highly of him and profess that he'd discovered a diamond in the rough with this one. Armand had resented him, in a way. He'd been jealous, but then… then… all of that faded away when his fingers were held so delicately in Lestat's own, soft and warm. When the boy's lips touched the back of his hand he was asked, like a fairytale princess, if he'd like to dance.

He'd been so preoccupied with going unnoticed, with tucking himself away in the dark recesses of the shadowed wings, that he'd inadvertently drawn Lestat's attention.

"Why are you hiding away? Aren't you having a nice time? All of this is for you, after all. C'est votre fête, n'est-ce pas? An event put on just for you and your brothers to shine?"

And he'd been right. There were piles of wrapped and glittering boxes under the large tree and all of them were addressed to him and his Palazzo brothers. Donations from the guests. A gift or a check, that was all that had been required to attend.

Charity, wrapped in gold and ribbon.

But when Lestat turned him about the dance floor, swept him quite literally off his feet and dipped him down low again, it didn't feel like charity at all. Amadeo's heart had sung. It was the first time anyone his own age had ever looked at him with that sort of interest and it broke something open inside him. It gave him something that was special and his alone to keep. A gift given to him that, for once, was not in exchange for any favor.

He thought of Lestat after the party that night and many other nights. When he had a duty to perform, he imagined that it was Lestat who'd asked it of him and it became easier. He put up wallpaper in Lestat's honor, he polished railings and patched floorboards, and when it came to his nightly work, he closed his eyes sometimes and imagined it was Lestat commanding him, instead.

The blue velvet tunic became a prized relic. The next time he was ordered to wear it, he didn't mind so much, and then it was ruined by the blood of a piggish man who'd been such a stark contrast to Lestat, whose touch had soiled all the shine and left him happy to see the garment destroyed in the fireplace.

He saw Lestat several more times when he was taken to the ballet, but they'd never come face to face again. Not until the day he and Louis stepped into Armand's office, looking to lease an apartment in the building Lestat had such fond memories of.

Armand wasn't sure how much time he'd let pass as he reminisced on the bathroom floor. His bladder urged him to get on with it and after he emptied himself, he stood at the sink, washing his hands and looking over his reflection.

For a second, he saw Amadeo staring back at him. Boyish curls, secret smirk in the corner of his mouth, and mischief in his eyes. It was the Amadeo he'd become after dancing with Lestat. The one who'd learned to take some pride in his wiles, the one who'd gotten bold with the sway of his hips in a room full of admirers, tempting them at times, and oh how that had been a miscalculation.

'To charm is not to beguile. You are on a dangerous path, Amadeo.'

Was it possible, as a 35 year old man, with his threads of silver coming in at his temples and the faint lines in the corners of his mouth… was it possible to beguile still? Was that what he'd done in the walls with Daniel, only a few feet away from where he stood now? Where the evidence still lay in a heap — bloody knife, ripped buttons and all? Could he make that mistake on a larger scale with two more men? Was he making it right now?

---

"Yeah, Armand was definitely in that program."

"I promise you, Daniel, you are mistaken. We were a tight-knit band of youths. We traveled and boarded together, everywhere we went. When we were split up, it was only for a month or two at a time. Armand is similar in age to me, no? We'd have boarded together, there'd be no mistaking it."

Louis stood with his back to them, stirring the pot of gravy on the stove while letting the oven heat. He didn't see the point in joining in, he had no skin in the argument and Daniel was a little out of it.

"I'm telling you," Daniel doubled down.

"Armand," Lestat heralded his emergence from the bathroom. "Would you please clear this up for your confused boyfriend. He seems to have been given the impression that you attended some studies under the Marius de Romanus Exceptional Youth Arts Scholarship."

"Oh!"

Oh? He sounded awfully caught off guard.

"Yeah, tell him. You were like… specially selected because you were being fostered or-"

"Ah, yes!" Armand cut him off quickly.

The oven sounded as it reached the set temperature and Louis got to work adding the gravy to the chicken and the vegetables, carefully turning over the mixture inside the pie crust before dusting his fingers with flour again and lifting the top over it. He continued to listen to their banter.

"I was in the foster care system but Marius had taken me into a different program. The Palazzo was, originally, a philanthropic endeavor on his part. Around a dozen or so of us. New Graven's troubled youth, brought up and refined. We were made productive members of society and we were proud."

"Troubled?" Louis muttered aloud without quite realizing.

"Not necessarily in the carceral sense," Armand clarified. "Most of us were orphans or otherwise… without guardians…"

Louis felt a bit of regret having challenged him. So Armand had been in the foster system. He might've even been an orphan, though Louis did not think now was the appropriate time to ask.

"Sorry," he said, pinching the crust together around the edges of the egg-washed rim.

"It's alright. I was provided an education, a beautiful home, and a family of brothers."

Lestat was notably silent. Louis looked up from his work to check on him and was not sure what to make of his expression.

"We only crossed paths once that I can recall with any clarity," Armand continued. "Lestat has previously professed not to remember. We were quite young, though you were already making a name for yourself in print. That's probably why I remember. You made an impression on me."

The heat of Louis' thumb sunk him right through the edge of the crust to the pie-dish. He'd forgotten himself and now he was fumbling to patch and repair. "You two had met here?"

"You're right," Lestat said quietly. "I still don't remember this encounter…"

Louis let his eyes dart to Armand who was standing behind Daniel on his stool, hands on his shoulders as if keeping him steady. "It was so long ago. I'm not offended."

"You knew Marius?"

"It was his program, yes."

A look came over Daniel's face and Louis captured it, stowed it away to scrutinize later. Something here was striking him as odd. Beyond the coincidence that Armand and Lestat might've crossed paths in their youth, in this very building, it seemed as though something was being purposely held back. Obscured. And once more, it made him feel paranoid and crazy.

You're having an alright night for once, with new friends even. Your head's just trynna ruin your fun, don't let it.

He shoved the pie into the oven and set the timer before taking up the bottle of wine and refilling Armand's glass, deciding once and for all that he wouldn't.

"Take a load off," he said. "It's three of us looking after him tonight, right?"

---

Daniel, himself, was learning something here. He could understand, of course, why Armand might want to keep the fact that Marius de Romanus had adopted him from Lestat. Knowing how that ended, how Armand was likely a poorly strategized stunt in optics, he could see how that might embarrass him and how he might find it cruel to shatter Lestat's illusion of the man. He, himself, might've made the same call if he were in Armand's shoes.

Still… It was a difficult thing for Daniel Molloy to sit on the truth. His saving grace here was that he didn't even feel like he'd fully cracked it, himself.

"So you never left," Lestat marveled.

Armand pulled the stool beside Daniel out and climbed into it, sipping from the glass Louis had refreshed and smiling. "No. My understanding of the program that sponsored you is that you and the other talented boys were shipped out to art academies for your studies. Us Palazzo boys, our home was here. It was a stable sanctuary, and that suited us best. We took care of the building, learning skills in carpentry and craftsmanship-"

"Yes," Lestat nodded eagerly. "I remember the carved cherubs in the corners of the ceilings, the way the floors shined…"

"We were lucky to have such a lavish home and we were taught to show our appreciation through our hard work tending to it."

"And you… stayed on?"

Daniel couldn't help turning his head Armand's way to see how he might navigate that question.

"Yes. As caretaker. Written in to the deed."

A lie. A notably swift, dodgy lie…

"Admirable," Lestat remarked.

"Sounds like chattel slavery to me," said Louis, wiping his hands on his apron before reaching behind his back to untie it.

A salient point.

"Ah, I don't look at it like that. I love the building. I'm grateful to have a home and purpose…"

Ah, fuck…

Daniel's heart felt like it was being gripped in an iron fist hearing that. He knew just what 'home' meant in Armand's case. And thinking back to the basement forced him to think back on what it contained.

What the fuck am I doing?

Again, Armand was lifting the wine to his lips out of the corner of Daniel's eye and he wondered what the both of them were doing.

Courting your friend and neighbor to be bosom buddies with the man stalking him and his boyfriend, that's what.

A brutally honest assessment. One he stuffed down deep, under the surface, letting the undertow of the morphine carry it away for the time being.

"Well, we've got an hour before the pie comes out to cool," Louis announced. "Should we take this to the living room?"

---

The four of them were sat around the glass coffee table with Daniel propped by pillows behind his back, allowing him to rest against the couch. The music playing through the speakers was not to Lestat's taste, but it was pleasant enough as a background to underscore the flow of conversation.

They'd dipped into the port, having finished the bottle of Pinot Noir, though Armand was still nursing his second glass. Lestat couldn't keep his eyes off him.

He was trying desperately to think back in time, to all the events he'd attended here at The Palazzo. There'd been many. He simply… could not recall. It was hard to imagine forgetting someone as striking as Armand. Even if they'd been boys at the time.

"I mean, what do you do for fun, Armand?" Louis asked. "You're always chained to your desk or screwing in light bulbs. Don't you ever just want to take a sick day and play hooky?"

"'Play hooky?'"

"Like… take the day for yourself. Go to the park, go throw bread at the ducks or something…"

"Lay around on the couch and watch television," Lestat added. "Baby steps." He watched as Armand folded inward a little, perhaps feeling bombarded, perhaps cornered or even attacked. Lestat rested his arm on the coffee table and leaned across it to tilt his chin up. "You're in your prime. You shouldn't be wasting it on paperwork and leaky sinks."

The gesture had been a gamble, but it'd won him Armand's eyes.

"Baby steps," he repeated. "Like you said. Before Daniel asked me out, I still took time every week to see films when I could. Mostly at night, outside of my hours."

"You can't replace living a life of your own with watching the movie stars live theirs on the screen."

"Don't tease him too hard, Lestat," Louis pressed his upper arm. "He's trying something now, ain't he? You ever seen him in a t-shirt and sweatpants before?"

"Non." He most certainly hadn't. "In fact, if I were Daniel, I'd have sent you away the moment you knocked on my door in order to keep him to myself, freshly stabbed or not."

"I wasn't the one who answered the door," Daniel said, spinning his room-temperature glass of water in a circle on its coaster. "But then, my track record for turning Louis away isn't the best…"

Lestat chuckled. No. It is not. He wondered if Armand knew about that. The little devil on his shoulder pressed him to inquire, but he thought better of it. Louis was nudging his shoulder, anyway, prepared to steer him from the conversational iceberg.

"Though it is tragic," Lestat began on another path, "that you've been stricken lame at the start of a new relationship, perhaps it will be a good opportunity to get to know one another more intimately without the distracting temptation of your flesh."

Daniel grimaced. Maybe at his phrasing. He was used to that. Louis rocked into his shoulder harder, but Armand struck up.

"Oh," he said. "I don't believe abstinence was a part of the doctor's orders. If so, we might be in a bit of trouble, already."

He said it so demurely that it took a few blinks and an assessment of the other two in the room for Lestat to be sure that he'd heard him correctly.

"Alright… Didn't realize we were gonna…" Daniel was shaking his head, lifting his water to hide behind it before taking a bashful sip.

Louis' jaw had come unhinged.

Lestat felt a charge in his loins. He leaned onto his elbows on the glass, sliding his fingers together and closing his palms. "Would it be too gauche to inquire how you managed that?"

"Yes," Louis answered on Armand and Daniel's behalf, putting an arm out across his chest and hauling him back. "Sorry about him. Wine makes him forget his manners."

"Les balivernes! It's beautiful men in high quantities that leads me to err in my graces."

The broad compliment did its trick and both Daniel and Armand were struck flattered while Louis simply shook his head, his arm falling away as though Lestat were a lost cause.

"Perhaps it was my manners I'd forgotten," Armand spoke in humble apology. "You must forgive me, I have not dated in quite some time and I've never been much of a drinker. I may be a little confused about the social mores."

He was taking the hit? Lestat would not stand for it.

"Mon chérubin, non… I assure you it's perfectly acceptable to talk sex over wine with consenting parties. We're all adults here."

"Well, some of us are," Louis muttered behind his glass.

Armand seemed to catch that, and again, he appeared to misinterpret. Lestat watched as he deflated.

"To balance the scales, I can admit that it wasn't alcohol we'd run out of last night, but Ocean Motion, in fact."

Louis choked — that was to be expected, but Daniel was laughing. Slowly, Armand began to join in and Lestat received a light slap on the arm from Louis who, himself, was beginning to laugh too.

"You're a clown," he admonished.

Well. Everyone loves a clown…

---

Dinner, of course, had been delicious. Would've been even better if he'd had enough of a head start to make the crust from scratch, but he felt certain he'd have the opportunity to do it again. Armand inhaled two helpings and that alone did a lot to warm Louis to him. Never mind seeing the man with his buttons loose.

Had he even been wearing any buttons…?

He let the hot spray hit his back as he lathered his washcloth in thought.

"Do you think Armand knows about you and Daniel's rendez-vous amoureux?" Lestat's voice rose above the shower from where he stood at the vanity counter, gently patting some kind of serum around his eyes.

Well, it'd been obvious that they were both wondering in the moment. It was only natural that it'd come up. Better to discuss it before sleep, Louis thought.

"You know… I wondered about that, myself." He scrubbed at his neck, behind his ears. "I mean, maybe they just assumed that because you're a dancer you'd be free."

"I'm at the studio more than you're at the gallery."

"They might not know that. Do you think it might be a jealousy thing?"

Lestat scoffed. "Did they appear like the jealous sort to you?"

Louis had to admit that they did not. In fact, he was still reeling a little from how jealous he'd managed not to get this evening. Not that flirting had never been sanctioned in their relationship. In the beginning, when they'd been younger, they'd go out to the club to attract the attention of other men for fun. Rile each other up some nights, find themselves dancing with some attractive young man between them who had lofty hopes of being invited home. They'd never gone that far with it, but they'd entertained the fantasy. A time or two, they'd even gotten so caught up with one another that they'd found themselves performing for an audience. Unwitting, at first, and then knowingly, Lestat on his knees in some dark corner of a club, Louis in his lap, grinding himself off with his back to the crowd while Lestat soaked up the adoration and the jealousy. They played with the malleable attention of others for sport and it had not been until Lestat's stunt with Eglee that any harm had come from it. But that had left such a wound in him. In the both of them…

"Maybe they were just confused by you throwing out the welcome mat," Louis suggested. "One of them was high and the other appears to be new here on planet Earth."

"A welcome mat? Well, we wanted to be 'hospitable.'"

"In Daniel's apartment while his boyfriend was still commando, apparently after some ill-advised romp with a stab victim. And here I am, worried we might've made things weird."

"You like him," Lestat teased, finishing his routine and coming to sit, legs crossed on the toilet seat. He watched Louis rinse away the suds, fond as ever. "I see why, of course. He has a puppy-like charm."

"If the puppy had fleas."

"Or," Lestat countered, "if the puppy were particularly well-endowed."

Louis snorted. "He told you that?"

Bragging about one's dick size spiritually detracted from it in Louis' book, but Daniel hadn't seemed the type. He'd been humble right up to Louis' moment of discovery.

"I spent some time in a dressing room with him ahead of their first date."

"So you saw it?"

"He had his underwear on and I was a perfect gentleman, of course. But… yes. I noticed. When I offered to pluck out my wandering eyes and present them to you on a tufted pillow, you declined the offer, remember?"

Oh, Louis remembered.

"Well, like I said, I didn't get past shaking hands with it."

"Pity."

Cutting the shower off and stepping out, Louis was gallantly presented with his towel. "Merci. And you definitely don't mean that."

"Why not? I wouldn't have begrudged you. You were single and wanting."

"We both know damn well that's what you're saying…" Louis rubbed himself dry before wrapping the towel around his waist and moving to the vanity.

"Well, tomorrow I can take stock of the damage my flirting has done and report back."

"I'll be standing by."

He felt Lestat's loving gaze roving over him and tried to keep his face neutral as he pressed his moisturizer into his skin.

"Would you like me to fetch your pajamas, mon cher?"

"If you would."

"I'll lay them out on the bed."

"Put 'em on the dresser instead, alright?"

"Oh?" Lestat halted when he reached the bathroom door.

"I got one more thing for you to do for me before sleep."

Lestat's voice grew faint and breathy and Louis caught his gaze through the mirror.

"Yes. Of course."

"You're gonna regret putting all that expensive shit on your face, mon cher."

"Am I?"

"I'm gonna have the world's most pampered backside after sitting on it."

He turned his eyes back to his own, witnessed Lestat's reverential wilting in his periphery, and smiled at himself in triumph.

---

"You're sure you're comfortable?"

Armand stood on the other side of the coffee table, his arms crossed dubiously across his chest.

"Yes. I've been to pee, I've got my water, and my pillow's never been more fluffed. Go to bed."

Instead of doing as told, Armand came around and flopped down onto the floor, bringing their faces close.

"Yes?" Daniel asked.

Armand kissed him in place of an answer.

"That all?"

"No."

"It's gotta be after midnight."

"You can sleep in."

"But I'm tired now," Daniel groaned. "You're staring at me like a bug."

"A bug?"

"I just mean-" He sighed. "Is it the bed? You just gotta get in slow and then keep still until it settles."

"I haven't gotten in bed yet. It isn't the bed."

"So what is it? Can I help you?"

God, he's lucky he's adorable…

"I could make you feel good again…"

Daniel had been looking at him with one eye, sleep having shut the other prematurely, but now he was wide-eyed and staring. "You're joking…"

Inky black curls blotted his vision out as Armand rubbed their heads together.

"No," he said. "I just know that you like an orgasm before you sleep."

"I mean, what guy doesn't?" He inhaled the smell of him, picking up the sight tang of wine underneath his shampoo. "It's just really late and something tells me I'll sleep just fine without. What are you doing?"

"Mmmm… I don't know…"

"Okay, well…" Fuck. Daniel supposed this was probably what five years of touch-starved hovel-dwelling did to a guy. It was too damn bad Daniel couldn't just touch him if that were the case. "Look, I get it. You're a little tipsy and this is all new and exciting — for both of us, but what if we raincheck it for tomorrow?"

"You'll be Lestat's charge tomorrow."

"Yeah, but not the whole day."

He let himself reach for Armand's head, pushing his fingers into his hair and stroking him like a cat in need of a scritch.

"I'll stop in for lunch."

"What, and kick him out?" Daniel laughed.

"Yes. He'll understand. He's got an inherent appreciation for the erotic. He's like me."

"Yeah, that's… What you just said, that's really hot, but I'm way too doped up and sleepy to really get it, I think…"

Armand was still leaning into his touch, writhing where he sat with his legs folded under him. He was illuminated from behind by the lights under the kitchen counter, glowing through the glass blocks in the dark.

Back to squinting again, Daniel could see that Armand was tenting his sweatpants, palms on his thighs and fingers clenching around nothing but air.

"Hey, if… if you're feeling frisky, you know you're welcome to take care of it. There's lube in the drawer and tissues by the bed…"

Stupid. He knows that…

Armand pushed harder into Daniel's touch. "That would be alright?"

"Of course. I mean, I'm sure I'll have harsh words for myself in the morning when I remember I turned down the opportunity to watch, but I really am exhausted here." That was the truth. He could feel himself fading, clinging with desperate fingertips to the edge of consciousness. "Mi casa es su casa…"

"Yes," Armand agreed. He pulled away from Daniel's hand as it went limp in his hair. "And I am being quite needy. Forgive me."

"Nothin' to forgive," Daniel mumbled, lazy syllables, lazy lips. "Y'should drink some water. Glass in the bathroom… Hmm. Y'knew that already…"

"Yes, that is probably wise."

Armand landed one more kiss on his forehead and then he was up. By the time he made it past the bedroom doorway, Daniel was already snoring.

Chapter 19: still feeling the sharp edges

Summary:

Armand asks for direction, Lestat dispatches insider knowledge, Daniel gets wet

Daniel slid in and out of dreams that night. One moment he was chasing Armand up the hidden stairs of the building, the next he was being awoken by a gentle nudge from Armand in the dark.

“Head back, mouth open, tongue up."

“You sleepin’ okay?”

“Don’t worry about me.”

In the walls again, being chased this time, up past his own floor, the narrow stairs climbing higher and higher until they were blocked by a heavy red velvet curtain. Awake again the next moment — or was he?

A bright orange light was shining across the pink of the carpet. Daniel sat up and turned his head towards the glass block fixture between him and the bedroom. He saw the outline of something, cut out of the light behind it. A shadow distorted by the uneven faces of the blocks.

“Armand?”

The shadow didn’t move.

“Am I awake?” he asked. “Armand?”

“I’m sorry,” Armand’s silky voice between his ears, in his skull. “I can’t get out.”

Another stab from a phantom knife in Daniel’s gut finally ripped him from sleep.

"Ah, good."

Daniel blinked against the morning light to see Armand standing above, looming over him with a mug of coffee in hand.

It startled Daniel and he jerked, making the pain quite a bit worse. He grimaced and nearly came to clutch at his belly before Armand's serpent-strike hand darted out and snatched his wrist to stop him.

"That would be unwise," he was warned.

"Don't… do that…"

"Do what, Daniel?"

"Stand over me while I sleep."

"You'd begun to stir, I knew you'd wake soon."

Still. The idea of Armand's owl-eyes watching his own turn under his lids sent a shiver through him. He wanted so badly to trust the man, and when the morphine hit again, he knew his justified paranoia would drop away once more, but right now in the waking light, having just come out of a nightmare he could only half-remember, he was feeling a little on edge.

He stabbed you, the voice in Daniel's head reminded him. And nobody knows but the two of you.

"My guts are all twisted up…"

He could see, now, having adjusted to the light that Armand was wearing a frown of concern. Maybe his feelings were a little hurt, too. Already, Daniel softened.

"Yes, I'll get your dose and then help you to the bathroom…"

Daniel's bladder was full. The twisting in his bowels was hard to account for with the general stabbing pain, but he imagined he was in no need of coffee as an accelerant this morning. It made the prospect of having Armand accompany him undesirable.

"Think I'll be able to manage. Just…"

God, was it ever going to get easier to ask for it?

"Yes, of course."

Thankfully, Armand seemed to understand his unique discomfort around the topic. He set the coffee mug down on the table and Daniel watched the sway of his hips as he left his side to retrieve the medication. When he returned, Daniel felt more certain that his trip to the bathroom would need to be negotiated. He'd pulled himself up to a half-sitting position, holding his breath through the worst of the pain, and tilting his head back, lifting his tongue.

Armand, angelic in the golden morning light, administered the drop under his tongue with kind, understanding eyes. Daniel watched those eyes while the medicine absorbed, soothed, and dulled.

"Let me know when you're ready to stand."

“Sit with me,” Daniel suggested instead, gingerly moving his feet the rest of the way to the floor to make room.

Armand did as he asked, palms down on his knees and his face held in an anxious, anticipatory profile. He was already partly dressed for a day of work, Daniel realized. Slacks and dress socks and a shirt half-buttoned.

Daniel tugged at one of his sleeves and Armand angled his head just enough to make eye contact. Lower lip bitten between his teeth.

“Did I snap that bad just now?” Daniel wondered aloud. “S’just the pain.”

Mostly the pain…

“Of course not,” Armand said, eyes full of sympathy again. “We were a little over the four hour mark. I hesitated too long in waking you.”

Great, Daniel had made things icy between them and put Armand on defense about his nursing skills. He let go of Armand’s sleeve in favor of curling his fingers around his arm and squeezing. Thankfully, the message was received and Armand leaned in for a kiss. Not the steamiest — which was probably for the best with Daniel’s morning morphine breath — but with enough power behind it to reassure Daniel things hadn’t gone completely south overnight.

Armand was a bit more relaxed when he sat back, resting one of his hands on Daniel’s knee instead of his own, but he was still clearly avoiding Daniel’s gaze.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about my behavior last night,” he finally said.

“You didn’t sleep well?”

“I cannot believe I had you sleeping on that horrible mattress.”

Daniel snorted at Armand’s utter seriousness. He had seemed a bit crestfallen when he had realized yesterday Daniel would need something more supportive to sleep on for his recovery.

“The new spring mattress should arrive in a day.”

“It was kind of fun the first few nights,” Daniel told him, to be fair. “Had you lying awake, though?”

“Yes.”

Daniel had imagined it would be a step up from that sad mattress on the concrete floor of his apartment. He understood, though. One man's gentle rocking might be another's bout of seasickness.

"Well, like you said, we'll be sleeping stationary soon. You wanted to discuss last night?"

"I fear I might've come on too strongly."

“Are you talking about trying to get handsy before bed? Because that’s never gonna’ bother me, Armand. I’m just a little off my game here.”

“I suppose that’s part of it.”

What else— oh.

“Is this about Louis and Lestat?”

Pained, Armand's attention turned down to the carpet. “Yes. It was so thrilling to have the three of you here together like that. Something I had never anticipated after several days of…things I had never anticipated. I’m afraid my behavior wasn’t what it should have been.”

There was that word again, behavior. It was childish in a way that scratched a few other itching sensations at the back of Daniel’s head. He found himself setting 'thrilling to have the three of you' on the back burner, thrilling as it sounded.

“I don’t know if Fran Landers has covered the proper manners for our kind of situation.”

Armand blinked at him.

“I mean I guess I was a little stoned but I had fun watching them get tongue-tied at you walking around looking like that.”

“You liked showing me off?” Armand asked like he was fitting two puzzle pieces together.

“I liked you showing yourself off. That’s sexy. I didn’t feel like… I mean, I think they were laying it on a lot thicker than either of us.”

“That was unexpected.”

“Yeah,” Daniel laughed. “Very. I haven’t, you know, done this before, but—”

Armand cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Being…with a guy, around other guys.”

“That’s right,” Armand nodded, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he squeezed Daniel’s knee.

It was obvious Armand appreciated the moments in which he got to be the more worldly person between them, which Daniel didn’t mind as it did a lot to dull the sting of embarrassment of being a 35-year-old stumbling his way through what should be the more mundane parts of this new relationship.

"Was the ex a jealous guy?” Daniel asked, taking what he knew to be a pretty big swing.

Right on cue Armand sucked in his breath and winced into an unconvincing smile.

“It depended greatly on the company. In most cases discretion was more important than anything. Under certain circumstances I was expected to be…appealing. Not enticing, though.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“Complex, perhaps, but always clearly defined. If not before the fact, then after.”

Daniel hesitated to respond to that. He obviously enjoyed a little definition here and there, liked the way a word like ‘boyfriend’ buzzed around in his head, but being asked nearly in exact words to tell Armand how to behave was another thing. The picture Daniel was continuing to piece together of Armand’s past relationship was again not looking so bright.

“I guess we’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Daniel said, bracing himself for Armand’s inevitable dissatisfaction with the answer.

“Hm.” There it was.

“With those two in particular it’s complicated anyway, right?”

“In which way?” Armand asked, obviously implying there were many to choose from.

“We still haven’t dealt with the cameras.”

“Ah.”

“‘Course you’ve been pretty busy the past two nights. Not like you’ve had time for them.”

“True,” Armand nodded. “I only checked on them briefly before showering yesterday.”

The revelation hit Daniel like a brick. He froze still, a dozen thoughts flooding his brain. Thoughts like: Who were you watching? Who would you still care to watch now that you have me? And: Were you watching me?

They came on so fast that he had no time to cover. Armand was watching him. Caught.

“I see. Another misstep.”

“No. It’s… I just hadn’t thought you would. It’s—” It’s what? ‘Fine?’

Daniel hadn't the time to recalibrate before a knock sounded on the door. Two short raps, somehow managing musicality. Armand left his side to answer and then Lestat was standing in the living room in purple wavy-print Zabuz and a loose white shirt with the sleeves cut down to his waist and the logo NGBC emblazoned across the front in bold block letters.

"I hoped we'd be casual," he said, drawing attention to the outfit as though it necessitated that.

"You forgot your suntan oil," Daniel quipped.

"Alas, it is not the beach I am headed for after this, but to the studio. We’re heading into the off-season but I have a little project I’m working on with our director.”

Armand perked up immediately at the words.

“Le Corsaire?” he asked.

Lestat let out a surprised laugh. “How did you—? We haven’t announced anything, yet. Still workshopping the idea.”

“Oh no,” Armand grimaced. “I shouldn’t give away my source.”

“Your source?” Lestat asked, seeming entirely amused in a way that did not quite help Daniel’s nerves.

“Maria Vargas,” Armand said, eyes closed in a show of penance. “We often cross paths at the supermarket. I was just recently asking her for any hints about upcoming shows.”

“Maria!” Lestat said the name fondly. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised she is as on top of the programming as she is our sparkling floors.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Armand agreed, not unkindly.

"Welp," Daniel said with a grunt, placing his palms on the edge of his seat as though he were about to push himself up.

He saw out of the corner of his eye how the movement struck a little fear into Armand, how he braced, locking his knees in the event that he might need to rush to Daniel's aid.

"Now that Lestat's here to distract you, I think I'm gonna attempt the bathroom."

He carefully got to his feet, the scabbing between where he'd been slit stretching a bit, feeling for a few seconds like the horsehair of a bow pulled too taut, bending the wood to an arch. The muscle sliding against torn muscle was probably the worst of it. Like his whole belly was a bruise. He masked it the best he could, but he'd forgotten to breathe and by the time he was on his feet and Armand and Lestat were on either side of him with his arms in their hands, he felt a little sweaty-faced and faint.

"I'm alright," he said.

"You look like you're on the verge of passing out, mon ami."

"You shouldn't be standing without assistance for another two days, Daniel."

"Shouldn't be doing a lot of things, Armand. And look, I'm not bleeding this time."

He could see the sting and, god, he hadn't meant it, it was just the pain making him snap out at the hands that were only trying to help. Like a fucking dog. That's what he was. And now he was sore and sorry.

"Yes…"

Ah, shit…

Lestat stood by, still bracing him by the elbow, but Armand had let his arm go completely. He'd left him in Lestat's grasp, in his care. He looked so wounded.

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. He reached out for Armand's cheek, saw him flinch, but as his gentle fingers touched down, Armand's eyes fluttered closed, the consternation concentrating on his face with a brief pinched look that melted just as soon. "I'm just… you know. Hurting."

"No, I am sorry, Daniel. You go relieve yourself. I'll give you just the slightest touch more when you're finished since you're still feeling the sharp edges and Lestat and I will be listening should you need assistance."

Daniel prayed he wouldn't.

 

---

 

"The Purple Panther is an amethyst, then, not a cat?"

"No."

"So why was there an animated sequence with a purple cat at the beginning?"

Daniel was beginning to wonder who was babysitting who here.

"I don't know, it's just… because it's cool."

"This man's accent is abominable."

Daniel gave the blanket they were sharing a good yank to recover what Lestat had absent-mindedly stolen. They were both on the couch and if they were brave enough to sit hip-to-hip, it might not have been so much of a problem, but decorum and tact felt like a very fine thread they were hanging by following the events of the previous night.

"I think that's the joke."

Again, Lestat fidgeted and the blanket untucked itself from under Daniel's thigh. His feet were propped up on a box with a pillow resting on top and he was clad in a pair of thick wool socks to help the chill that'd come over him just before Armand left for his office. Lestat did not appear to be chilled at all and Daniel was biding his time, waiting to bring up that point.

"I suppose I don't see what's so funny."

"Pfff. The French are a perfect target. What do you care, anyway? You're not actually French."

Indignant, Lestat turned to him, telecasting his wounded look.

"What? You're not. You said it yourself, you're a New Graven boy. You should let me hear your real accent."

"Mon ami, this is my 'real accent'."

"C'mon. Indulge me. Give me your best American accent."

He sighed, squaring his shoulders and sniffing before clearing his throat. "Hey, who do I gotta fuck around here to get a meatball sub?"

Daniel raised his eyebrows. "Well, now I'm offended on behalf of Italian Americans."

"I told you… this is my real accent."

Fair enough. Lestat had gone abroad as a child, and Daniel didn't profess to know anything about language development. Though he still wasn't fully sold on the handwaving explanation Armand had given him for his accent — the influence of a British foster mother didn’t seem like it should be able to stick the same way Daniel imagined life in another country would. In fact, there was a whole lot he wasn't sold on, still. He hadn't had the time to really sit and process.

"Did Marius de Romanus speak with any kind of accent?"

"Quoi?"

Daniel flinched. Had that been a strange thing to ask?

"I mean… Well, the name is a little… odd. Not odd, just…"

"I suppose his accent was… hmm… It's hard to pin down, now that you mention it. American, but classic. He spoke like Barry Grant. Like he might have a tobacco pipe in the other side of his mouth. And oftentimes, he did."

It painted a picture. The lines and shapes, anyway. Daniel wanted to see it filled in a little more, so he pressed further.

"So he was kind of like a paternal old Hollywood type?"

"Exactly like that."

"What did he look like?"

Lestat scoffed and Daniel felt sheepish again.

"Well, you can find his face etched on so many plaques around the city. There's a bust of him in the study hall of the Library and a statue outside of the pediatric wing at the hospital. But I suppose you are new, so you might not have come across any of these monuments."

Daniel shook his head.

"Well. He was a handsome man. He was alarmingly tall, several inches taller than my own 6', and his hair was a shade or two lighter than my own. Pin-straight, however, and almost Nordic. It fell neatly down his back, stopping right in the center of his shoulder blades."

The description was a little more detailed and wistful than Daniel had anticipated. It was also doing well to color in the lines. He didn't bother to interrupt as Lestat kept going.

"His eyes were a wintery blue and his mouth was like a straight line. Thin lips that only ever smiled in small doses, a strong brow that let you know when he was displeased. When he did smile, it was with his eyes which crinkled in the corners."

"You talk about him with such reverence."

"I admired the man. I loved him. I'll say it again, he was the closest to a father I can count. I'm surprised you have not already heard all this about him from Armand. But then, I am surprised Armand had also been lifted out of his circumstances by Marius' generous hand. There've been so many occasions I can recall where it might've come up."

"He's really private. I'm sure he'd talk about the guy if I asked, I just…"

"Ah, yes, I can understand. A budding relationship. You are talking with your bodies more than your words, still. And now you are bedridden in a much more unfortunate fashion. I can tell you that if I had been stabbed, the road to recovery would certainly be a long one now that Louis and I are back together."

"We really weren't… I mean, we hadn't…"

The movie played on, forgotten in the background as Lestat pulled his legs up onto the couch and turned, readjusting the blanket over his lap and resting his elbows on his knees. He leaned in as though Daniel were preparing to drop the hottest gossip.

"We'd only been on a handful of dates and he's a little… old fashioned, in case you couldn't tell." Was that really a lie? Daniel didn't see the need to get into how far from shy Armand had been in the bathroom on their first date, and he certainly didn't feel he should disclose where their second had taken them. "We hadn't even kissed until after he… thought I might die…"

Close one…

"Well, he seemed to imply last night that-"

"We had a bit of an indulgent slip-up yesterday afternoon. I ended up bleeding through my shirt. So, guess it’s fair to say he wants to catch up."

And was that too much to divulge? Daniel's head was so mixed up about all of it. If he looked to last night as any kind of indication, he'd say he was probably fine. Armand had seemed thrilled to talk about the experience, catching Daniel off guard.

"You weren't fucking, you weren't discussing your childhoods…"

"We talked about a lot of things. His childhood included. I just… I feel like I haven't really gotten the full picture where this Marius guy is concerned. He's… a bit fascinating."

‘Ominously mysterious’ was more like it, but Daniel had a feeling he knew what angle would work best here.

"Oh, yes. Incredibly fascinating."

"Besides yourself, were there any other kids from the program that garnered a bit of fame? Do you remember?"

"Well, of course there was myself, there was Carlie Bainbridge — another dancer, there was Philip Westmorland, a cellist. He was a bit after my time, when Marius’ focus turned more towards musicians."

Those names sounded fairly Caucasian to Daniel's ears, but then again so would ‘Armand’ if he didn’t know better. He wasn’t sure if he was striking out or bolstering his theory that Armand's adoption might've been a stunt.

"You don't recall anyone else?"

"I recall that there were projects that got some press in which the spotlight was shone on this or that ward of the state, sometimes to drum up interest for adoption…"

Daniel grimaced at the sound of that. "But you don't remember any specifics?"

"Non. I remember that it was fairly common for him to have a few with him at a time just about anywhere he went. Every now and then a journalist would come out with some outrageous story about him, founded on scandalous lies told by his political enemies…"

Ding ding ding. Now we're getting somewhere. Gotta do a little damage control, though.

Daniel shrugged. "Political enemies. Wow."

"Well, pas de bonne action."

“Pass the…”

“No good deed,” Lestat translated. His eyes went sympathetic and he placed a hand on Daniel's thigh over the blanket, making his now-nervous state just a touch worse. "Perhaps these are questions for your lover. No use getting yourself worked up when my answers will not satisfy." He leaned in to show Daniel a small smile that might've looked intentionally private were they out in public. "It's not me you are curious about."

Daniel felt sluggish in his response, caught off guard by the contact. Lestat spoke again before he could unmuddle his thoughts.

"Apologies. I forget, outside of the company, that it's customary to ask before touching."

"It's… fine."

"Forgive me, then. Maybe it is nothing, but I cannot help feeling as though there is some level of defense rising between us. From both sides."

If so, Daniel certainly didn't think that was any way to lower it. He could forgive the rookie mistake, though. He was well aware whose company he was sitting in and Lestat, when compared with most, showed very little aptitude for investigative subtlety.

"Sorry, I'm just… I feel like I'm living in a lot of gray area, right now."

"Gray area such as?"

Hoo boy. Was Daniel ready to get into any of it? He'd scarcely had the time to wade through it all, himself.

"The stuff with Armand, I guess. I wasn't counting on the brush with death as relationship accelerant trope to manifest in my actual life."

"I see. Yes. It has forced your quarters to close in. And they were already quite close, weren't they?"

"You could say that."

Lestat tilted his head. "You're feeling unsure. You'd like the terms defined."

"We've settled on 'boyfriends', I think."

"Yes, but still there is much to negotiate, no?"

The line of questioning was only sandbagging Daniel's defenses. Scenes from the previous night danced around his head. Lestat was a flirtatious sugar plum fairy, making eyes and stilted advances toward anyone in his path while Louis looked on, not with disapproval.

"You trying to negotiate with me, Lestat?"

"Oh, yes. I much prefer a more playful safe-guarding. But let me put you at ease. I only mean to talk about last night, my own behavior, and you and Armand's perceived receptiveness to it. You see, I've come to understand the necessity for boundaries in all kinds of relationships over the last several months, and after speaking last night with Louis, I felt that it is probably a subject that should be broached amongst the four of us."

He was saying a lot of words and when Daniel boiled them down, they came to one thing.

"I don't think Armand minded the attention," he said, boiling things down himself.

"You've spoken with him, then?"

"A little bit this morning."

"And how did you feel about it, Daniel? I'd be devastated to learn that it caused any friction."

"It didn't. He felt a little guilty about it, but I soothed him. Can I ask you something?"

Lestat gestured as if to say that he was an open book, and Daniel was sure that that was true. He was also sure that the reception to what he was about to ask could never be accounted for when you didn't know a person all that well. He knew Lestat about as well as he knew Louis. Claudia. Armand…

"Have you ever talked to a shrink?"

Lestat scoffed. "A shrink? Non. I see a therapist bi-weekly, but only to talk. As you know, it was quite lonesome when Louis and I were apart."

It was a struggle to keep himself from laughing at the distinction — now who's defensive — but Daniel managed to press on. "Does Louis know?"

"Mon dieu. No. Louis does not have much faith in the psychiatric practice. I imagine he might not appreciate my motivations for pursuing counsel, either.”

Well, Daniel couldn’t be expected to let that hang in the air.

“Your motivations, which were…”

Lestat sighed, his smile going tight across his face. “To understand why I did what I did, knowing it would hurt him exactly as much as it did.”

A hell of a question, Daniel had to agree. Between the donut-and-cigarette-fueled sessions of relationship rehashing he’d unwittingly facilitated for both parties, the picture of Lestat’s betrayal was dramatic to say the least. Louis turning his key in the door to their apartment to find Lestat and Eglee going at it on the living room floor, with Lestat immediately turning his anger on Louis for not arriving home on time when he allegedly would have found them in a compromising position instead of a compromised one.

“Of course, it is the strictest confidence in which I'm telling you about this,” Lestat added.

Daniel didn't like the sound of that. More secrets. More keeping his head straight. "Are you going to tell him?"

"In time, yes. Only after I feel like I've effectively embodied the good it's done me. Once I can prove that I am improved, then I think I will try again to convince him to go."

Oh.

Suddenly, Daniel was feeling a bit like a heel for having almost laughed. "I see. No, that makes sense. I'll keep a zipper on it. It, uh… It just explains some of the familiar lingo."

"You are in therapy, yourself?" Lestat asked, eyes growing large with sincere interest.

"Me? No. Not anymore. I only ever did group and a little addiction counseling, but the tenets are the same, I think."

"Ah, right, of course. I'm sorry."

Daniel waived the apology off. "So, what did Louis say? About last night, that is. He didn't appear to mind."

"He seemed exhilarated. We went home and wound down for bed, then he surprised me by riding my face like a bicycle seat for upwards of an hour. I felt certain I'd have lock-jaw setting in this morning, but t'was a miracle. Alléluia."

Daniel shocked himself with an unanticipated nervous laugh. The image was in his head now and nothing could be done about it.

"Yes," Lestat agreed with him. "I was quite taken aback, myself. I don't suppose you got as much mileage."

"Almost. I think Armand was pretty worked up, but I was so tired and we'd already-" Shit. Maybe I shouldn't be talking about this…

It was just that it'd been a while since Daniel had a pal. A pal and a romantic partner to discuss with them. It was… nice. It felt normal in the midst of all the things, presently, which were not.

"No need." Lestat halted him with his palm. "I shouldn't be pressing you. Besides, he divulged plenty last night. What a twist."

Yes. Exactly. What a fucking twist.

"You'd be surprised."

Steady, Daniel…

"Oh, I'm sure. Those loose sweatpants were quite a surprise, as well."

Sucking in a breath, Daniel nodded. "Yep."

"Anyway," Lestat ventured on. "Every surprise has been a welcome one recently. With the exception of your brush with death, of course. Last night was fun, Daniel. It was a little like the early days for Louis and I."

"Oh?" Daniel has just been about to close the topic and turn his attention back to the TV, but now he was curious. "You and Louis used to…"

Lestat gave him a smirk. "Quoi? To square dance?" He allowed Daniel to suffer his regret for just a hair past a moment before continuing. "Non, we never invited any newcomers into our bed. I assume that was your question."

Daniel's cheeks were hot. He let his sheepish smile serve as his answer.

"Louis preferred to toy with our prey, get a few free drinks out of them, and then release them unsatisfied."

It made a sort of aesthetic sense, to Daniel. The two of them moved like cats. He'd experienced firsthand the feline flavor of seduction Louis employed and Lestat, at a few points throughout the prior night, had literally cornered Armand like a fieldmouse. Daniel had worried for his safety a time or two, in fact. He could see it in his mind's eye, the two of them working in tandem, scattered mirror ball lights the only camouflage they'd need.

"Sounds hot," he said, underselling the impression it made on him. "So is that typical?"

"Typical?"

Daniel shrugged. "First time in a gay relationship here. Sorry if I'm being an ignorant asshole, all I've got to go on is the stereotypes and what I've seen firsthand while trying to cop."

Lestat pursed his lips as though a decision needed to be made and he was finding himself in a tight spot. To tell the rube about the secret handshake or to keep it sacred…

"Everyone desires different things," he seemed to land on. "Though, it is true that the transcendent love between two of the same gender can oftentimes be unhampered by society's restrictive expectations."

Fair enough.

"So Louis' not the swinging type, then."

"Well, I've never known him to be, but maybe he's since changed his mind. Maybe it only took a handful of boy-next-door to change it."

This was starting to feel dangerous. Daniel winced, leaning for the remote on the sofa beside him, but just before he could turn up the volume on the movie, the handle of the door turned and shocked the two of them, their backs straightening stiff as Armand strolled into the apartment.

"Lunch hour already?" Lestat asked.

"I'm famished."

He'd slid his shoes off at the door and Daniel thought he'd caught his eyes flitting their way as he went to the kitchen to open the refrigerator.

"Would anyone else like any of the leftovers?"

"I'll take some," Daniel said. "Pot pie for breakfast, pot pie for lunch. Not sick of it yet."

"I could never get sick of it," Armand confessed, taking the dish out and laying it on the counter. "I did wrap up just about everything I needed to do today, so as long as Santiago isn't bombarded by anything unforeseen, I will be in the rest of the day."

"Ah!" Lestat threw the blanket off himself and stood. "We'll have to finish your little movie on another day, then, Daniel."

"You don't have to leave," Armand said quickly, turning from where he'd been dishing up pie onto plates for himself and Daniel. "Unless you had something pressing, in which case I'd understand, but I think the company is good for Daniel."

For Daniel, yeah…

Lestat sat back down, looking slightly shackled which Daniel tried not to take personally.

"Shall I heat some up for you, as well?" asked Armand.

"No, I am actually… I'm watching my figure. So easy to fall into temptation during the off season if one isn't careful."

Daniel flinched a little when the microwave door shut with a bang and Armand knuckled in the time before its soothing hum took over. His nerves were a little frayed after the turns that conversation had just taken and he hadn't had the opportunity, yet, to impress upon Lestat how he'd like to keep those topics between them for the time being.

"Of course," Armand agreed. "And there's Le Corsaire…"

Daniel couldn't help the feeling that he was a bit on the outside here. He remembered Armand listening to the cassette when he'd discovered him on the roof. He remembered like a pinch to the brainstem. The implication of just how Armand might've known ahead of time what project Lestat was preparing for, and even just how he might've come across a copy of the tape hit him a split second later.

"I can comp you both some tickets. I had no idea you were such a fan of ballet, Armand."

"I am, admittedly, only a casual fan. It's a little embarrassing to say, but my passion for the art had lapsed a little as I grew older. Then, of course, you moved into the building and I was reminded how much I'd admired you as a youth."

Daniel watched Lestat's expression, on tenterhooks waiting for their prior discussion to come back into play like an unstoppable gale. He was so relieved when Lestat simply smiled. Never mind that the smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"Thank you. I never get tired of hearing it, no matter what I might say. You must never believe me when I feign that fatigue."

Daniel saw Armand giggling to himself in the kitchen. He thanked his lucky stars that Lestat's charm could cut so cleanly through the suspense. He felt his hackles lowering.

"You ever seen this one, Armand?" he asked, turning the topic completely and innocuously from danger.

"The Purple Panther? Of course I have. I love jewel thief stories."

I'll bet you do.

"We're doing a piss poor job paying attention to it. Was wondering if you had any better suggestions? Something that won't offend a fake Frenchman."

 

---

 

Armand ran a touch late getting out of his office, but he'd given a courtesy call to relieve Lestat of his duty around ten past five. It worked out swimmingly for them, leaving them just enough time to finish Complete Recovery — Daniel snickering until his stitches hurt at Lestat’s outburst of French when an alien call girl showed off her otherworldly rack around the hour mark — and for Lestat to set Daniel up with the phone in case of an emergency. Then he was gone and Daniel sat alone, waiting and thinking.

There was much to discuss.

"I am so sorry for the delay, Daniel, I hope you're not suffering too terribly."

"Still sailing on that last little bump of morphine from lunch," Daniel said with a smile as Armand slipped out of his shoes and hung his jacket before heading in.

Armand was loosening his tie as he drew near and Daniel felt himself knocked a little breathless. Was this just his life now? He felt like a homemaking wife, small and feeble in her domain, anxious to please her work-weary husband who just got home.

Of course, a homemaking wife he was not. He was more Paul Caan from Agony and he wasn't too delusional to see it.

"Well, thank goodness for that."

Daniel tilted his face up when Armand stepped near enough to inspect him, smoothing a cool palm over his hot forehead.

"Lestat took good care of you while I was away?"

"He yapped through the third act twist but other than that, yeah."

"I hope he'll forgive me for making him late."

Daniel shrugged. "He's their leading man. I think he gets a lot of slack."

Armand hummed, still in appraisal of him. At last, he let Daniel's chin go, bent to kiss the top of his head, and wrinkled his nose.

"Yeah, I know. Another couple days and I'm allowed to shower again."

"We should sort this out sooner. You must be uncomfortable."

Daniel weighed out whether now was an appropriate time to bring up some of the bare mattresses he'd flopped on in his day, ruled against it, and shrugged again. "I mean, I'm open to a sponge bath. Why not?"

'Why not?' Well, Daniel had had a handful of 'why nots' yesterday, but in light of their little dalliance the previous afternoon, some things had changed. Like the fact that Armand's lips had touched his scrotum while his hands were bound with a belt. And a sponge bath, certainly, was no more debasing than that, right? Never mind how much he'd liked the light debasing.

Might be a good opportunity to talk sex without the pretense of it.

But then… Well, but then maybe not. It seemed as though the circumstances of Daniel's condition, Armand's charge as his personal nurse… It was charged. The very idea of a sponge bath should have had Daniel recoiling in shame. Instead, it thrilled.

I can control it if he can…

Armand left him to change and run the bath and Daniel chose not to question his methods. He hadn't really known what to anticipate, anyway. It wasn't like he was truly bedridden. When he was brought to the bathroom by Armand — clad only in the over-sized mermaid shirt from the pier and maybe some underwear beneath that? Daniel hadn't had the opportunity to peek quite yet — he saw that the tub was only filled with a couple feet of water. There was a towel folded on the edge where the tile stepped up into it, presumably for Daniel to sit on.

"I'll help you undress," Armand dictated.

"I guess I've always thought of a sponge bath like you see in old war movies," Daniel said, raising his arms and tucking his chin for his shirt to be lifted off of him. "You know, bedside with a bucket of soapy water."

"We have much more sophisticated means." Armand moved to his sweatpants, shucked them down and held them for him as he stepped out, dutifully averting his eyes.

Daniel could smell himself. He almost wanted to apologize. The thing about rotting on the couch in sweatpants was… well… all the sweat.

"Yeah, I guess so," he said instead.

Armand lead him carefully to the steps, holding his hands as he lowered himself onto the towel and then stepped up and into the water, himself.

"Oh…"

"It's easier this way, Daniel. We might make a bit of a mess, but I'll wipe up before you're in danger of slipping when you stand again."

Daniel turned his head to watch them in the mirror — the mirror which, of course, obscured a literal crime scene now, but never mind that — and saw Armand bend for the washcloth, wetting it and bringing it to his back.

"Just to moisten your skin," he said.

Daniel felt like a kitten, soothed by its mother's tongue. He melted, the almost hot wet washcloth making circles over his back, between his shoulders.

"Hey, uh… I wanted to apologize for earlier."

"For what?"

"It was shitty of me to bring up yesterday like I did earlier. In front of Lestat…"

He found himself staring straight ahead again. Not like he was afraid to see Armand's reaction to his apology, but rather that it felt like he should avoid his eyes while making it. The impact of his apology was Armand's to determine. He didn't want any temptation to mold it around his expression. He wanted to speak from the heart, so he continued.

"I don't regret what we did and I shouldn't have tried to make you feel guilty for it."

The cloth left him, dunked back into the water before his left arm was lifted and it returned under his armpit, then the other side.

"Still, it was not wise. I should have tempered us back."

"I'm okay, though. Any number of things might've ripped me back open. I'm glad it happened. It was hot."

Some apology, Molloy.

"We'll do better to abstain from now on. For the next 48 hours, anyway. I'll be discreet about my own urges, of course."

Daniel felt a drop in his stomach. A pleasant shiver that reminded him to feel with the parts of himself that weren't being tended to by the warm cloth. His skin shrunk around him.

"You're cold?"

"No, just… Uh, you know, you can feel free to…"

How to thread this needle, now, when Daniel was suddenly struck inarticulate? He smelled the soap, turned to watch Armand finally lathering the washcloth before returning it to his back.

"I really don't mind if you masturbate, Armand. In fact, I wouldn't be at all offended if you weren't discreet."

Armand was silent as he worked before finally giving a little hum that he understood. Daniel, of course, didn't want to press the matter for fear of making him uncomfortable.

"So, I was thinking for dinner tonight, maybe we order Chinese? Just to change it up a bit. How does that sound?"

"If that is what you'd like, Daniel, then it sounds good to me."

"Listen to some music, maybe?"

"Yes. That sounds nice."

"You can tell me about your day in the office."

He heard a snick of a laugh. It made him smile, himself.

"Now what would you want with all that tedium?"

"I don't know. I'm just interested in learning about you."

Quiet again.

"You're good at this," Daniel muttered after a while longer, his arms raised as Armand soaped under them.

"Hold your hands over your bandage for me, please, so I don't get it wet," Armand directed.

Daniel did as he was told, allowed Armand to soap over his chest, carefully around his sides, stopping before meeting the edges of his fingers there. "How are you gonna get the suds off?"

"Carefully," Armand answered. "I'll have you step into the water and I'll rinse you by hand." He took Daniel's hand, then. "Alright. Stand up. Easy."

Daniel stood from the edge, about a head taller than Armand as he rose up onto the top step before carefully, under his and Armand's power, stepping into the tub with him.

"I can get the rest," Daniel offered, but Armand was already bending to re-wet the cloth.

"Nonsense."

"I just- Oh!"

They were chest-to-chest, soapy suds soaking into the oversized mermaid shirt between them. Armand's eyes met his in an almost challenge as he swept the cloth up between Daniel's thighs and cupped him through it.

"I'm going about this as clinically as I can, Daniel. If you grow excited, you've only yourself to blame."

"Well that's just… cruel."

Armand laughed. "Your face…"

Daniel could only imagine. He stood, stunned, as Armand sunk down to wet his legs next before soaping up again and going back in. He ended up on his knees in the water, the hem of the shirt just inches above its surface, his face turned up to Daniel's. The eye contact was… confronting.

"Some bedside manner. And to think I was just praising you…"

He looked up from Armand's gaze and found himself staring at the backside of his thighs in the mirror which was equally dangerous. He settled for staring at himself.

Damn.

He wasn't completely aroused, but he was a little… fuller than he'd been when he'd first stepped into the bath. A little in the way of Armand's work. He grabbed himself and pulled it to the side, down into submission against his own thigh. Clearing his throat he prepared for Armand's soapy touch again. Up between the thighs, parting them, cupping over his balls, the lightest massaging there, and then-

"Whoa-oh…"

Armand sat back with a huff, his ass coming to rest on his ankles under the water, soaking himself up to the belly-button. "Do you want me to be thorough or not?"

"I said I could-"

"And deprive me the pleasure to atone for putting you in this predicament in the first place?"

Incredible.

To be wholly fair, Daniel saw the blame laid out like Russian nesting dolls. Sure, they were here because Armand had stabbed him. But Armand had stabbed him because Daniel had frightened him. Which, naturally, could be understood to have come about as a result of Armand's reluctance to be candid. Of course, Daniel could have asked.

And then there is the unsettled business of the cameras, too. Of course. Of course of course of course…

"Are you atoning or are you trying to get me worked up right after promising not to do anything about it?"

"I've already washed my hands of that blame."

"Cute."

He was lucky that he was.

Daniel remained stone-faced, doing all that he could to control his wanting, keep it under his own power rather than Armand's. He watched with a forced detachment as he was scrubbed over, turned this way and that, and then rinsed clean by the cup of Armand's hands. When they were finished, he was shivering and Armand's novelty shirt was clinging to him up to his belly.

"Your turn?" Daniel asked, hand in Armand's as he was helped out of the tub and held steady coming down the steps.

"My turn for what?" Armand asked back while setting him up with a fresh towel before bending to drain the tub.

"Still haven't gotten to see you in my bathtub."

"You just did."

"You know what I mean. I think I've even got a bottle of bubble bath somewhere."

"It's under the sink."

"There you go."

"I've dinner to sort out, haven't I? You said you wanted Chinese delivered?"

"I'm capable of ordering out for us, Armand. You can leave that to me."

Armand stood with his hands on his hips, staring Daniel down. "You want a show. Is that it?"

"Just wanna see you relax a bit is all."

"Fine," Armand said, patting his feet dry. "Let's get you dressed and then and I'll do as you please."

He sauntered out of the bathroom at that, water still dripping down his legs from the soaked hem of the shirt. The shocking display of disregard for the carpeting he seemed to take such pride in only further revved Daniel’s engines.

"Yes, boss!”

 

Chapter 20: Eager is good, actually.

Summary:

Armand finally rids Daniel's apartment of the waterbed

Daniel's dose was tapered back considerably over the next several days. It was a blessed relief not to be wracked with chills and shakes, but it made the disparity between his own libido and Armand's all the more glaring. He no longer had the excuse of being doped up too heavily to get more than semi-erect just watching and as the days went by, waiting on delivery of a ‘sufficiently firm’ mattress that continued to be delayed, Armand's urges appeared to be ramping up. He seemed to have adopted an unspoken goal to arrange himself like living art over every viable surface of Daniel’s apartment from which he had optimal vantage. Sometimes it was clear he wanted Daniel's eyes on him and Daniel would give in, put his book down or turn from his work at the Yomiga to crook a finger, beckoning him over. Other times, he was quite utilitarian about it — bored in Daniel's periphery while he corresponded with his editor over the phone, for example. After the probationary couple of days before Daniel was deemed medically sound for sitting, standing, light stretching, and even showering, they got off together at least once most evenings. Sometimes watching one another at a safe distance, sometimes with Daniel's hands bound and Armand's mouth on his cock, swallowing him up, drinking it out of him with an element of greed.

But the amount of times Armand had come up to Daniel's apartment in the middle of his work day, skipping lunch in favor of a couple of quick orgasms, well… It was a little remarkable to say the least.

If Daniel had to condense it down, he'd be forced to admit that the guy masturbated a lot. It was beginning to present itself as a cause for concern — perhaps a convenient one when stood up next to all the other things concerning Daniel presently.

Another concern, presently, was the company Armand had brought in to drain the waterbed tracking dirt in over the carpet.

"Babe, your eye is twitching. Do you want me to be an asshole? I can be the asshole if you don't want to-"

"And who should I bill for the steam-cleaning?" Armand asked, loudly and a bit shrill. His arms were crossed over his chest and his neck was tensed taut, held haughtily high.

Alright. Never mind. Looks like he's got this.

Daniel observed as Armand followed behind the men, ignoring their requests for him to back up, to 'let them take care of it.' It was a little sexy seeing him in his element as uptight building manager. Daniel took his own step back and settled into the couch to watch the show.

The new frame and mattress was scheduled to arrive at three and the removal of the waterbed, which had already been pushed back an hour with a courtesy call from the company coming 15 minutes past their missed appointment time, was on the verge of pushing into their next appointment. Armand was fuming.

"Busy day?"

Daniel turned his head from the hall where the two grunts were arguing over who had been bearing the most weight and who needed to hold up their fair share to see Louis standing in the doorway with a magazine rolled up under his arm.

"We're having the waterbed taken out," he explained, catching a glint of something in Louis' eye.

Yeah, you remember. Of course you do…

"Oh, shit." Louis walked into the apartment, following the dirty footprints a way and then stopping his tracking to grimace in Daniel's direction. "Armand see that yet?"

"Oh, he saw…"

"Where is he?"

"He's out on the balcony with the phone, tearing the removal company a new one and demanding that they pay to have it cleaned."

That seemed to impress Louis. "Well… if only I needed some cumbersome piece of furniture removed."

Amused, Daniel bit. "Why's that?"

"Lestat's about to drive me up the wall. He calls it nesting. I call it getting under my feet at every pass. He came home with three new throw pillows yesterday and each one of 'em was more hideous than the last. I might need to set you two up on another play date just to get him out of my hair."

"I'd have to ask the head nurse, but I think I could probably take him off your hands for a day pretty soon here."

"I'd owe you another hot meal."

"Wouldn't say no to that, either."

"So…" Louis started again with a smirk. "No more waterbed."

"No more waterbed."

"You done sleeping on the couch, then?"

"Will be. If this fiasco doesn't totally screw up the delivery guys who're bringing the new bed's ability to get it in here and set it up. To be honest, I could've been done with the couch already, but Armand didn't like the idea of me risking it so soon to getting my stitches out."

"Remind me when that is, again?"

"Tomorrow."

"Well. Congratulations. Just in time."

"Just in time for what?"

"For Claudia's housewarming party on Friday. She's requested your attendance."

Daniel balked, having no time to consider how he should ask if the invitation was also extended to Armand before the sliding glass door behind him was pulled open and Armand was striding back in, coming around the couch with a smugly satisfied look on his face.

"Not only will they be footing the bill for the carpet cleaning, they've knocked 30% off the removal service fee. Sometimes you simply need to bypass the brawn and speak with the brains of an operation to get anywhere productive."

Daniel and Louis both clocked the two workers' looks of disdain as they scuttled through the living room and out into the hall to take another load of water down to their reservoir truck.

"Thought they used a hose for that sort of thing, usually," said Louis. "Run it up through a window or something."

"They do," Armand confirmed. "Usually. I gave the distance of hose they'd need in meters when I ordered the service, but they arrived with one half the length. It was folly to even consider the more budget-friendly option. I must admit my own fault there."

Daniel was beaming. He could feel it stretching his face and he could do nothing to help it. Armand was a stone cold bitch when he had to be and Daniel loved to see it.

"Have I told you today how sexy you are?" he asked.

Armand was setting the phone in its cradle on the counter, attention turned to a grimy set of fingerprints on its surface from when the men had broke for hydration. He looked up from his scrutiny to Daniel, surprise melting into a demure smile that spread over him.

"I'm only working, Daniel."

"Yeah. And it's hot. You should be meaner." Daniel looked to Louis. "Tell him."

Louis shrugged, smiling politely. "Suppose it is a change of pace from how we usually see you."

"Well I don't mean to come off as a tyrant. It's just that I detest poor workmanship. I loathe it."

"Understandable," Louis said with a nod. "I feel about the same, myself."

"Louis just invited me to Claudia's housewarming on Friday, boss. As long as the doctor gives the okay, I should be alright…?"

"Oh." Armand froze, blinking.

"Of course, that means you're invited too, Armand."

"Ah," Armand tossed out another bewildered vowel.

"Well," prompted Daniel. "Would you like to go?"

"I suppose that sounds fun. What time Friday?"

"In the evening. It's casual, of course. Claudia's promising finger food and she'll be gutted if there's any leftover, so come hungry."

"Can do," Daniel said with a mock salute.

Louis took the rolled up magazine out from under his arm and bent to lay it on the coffee table. "Great. She'll be thrilled."

"What's this?" Daniel reached forward for it, flattening it out on his lap. "The Gravy?”

"We get at the gallery for free," Louis said. "Imagine my surprise to see a write up about you and your book in there. You've been getting noticed, Daniel. Folks've been spotting you at the diner, scribbling your notes. Seems like New Graven is pretty proud to have attracted yet another celebrity."

"I'm hardly a celebrity. The book is like a cult hit."

"You shouldn't be so modest, Daniel," Armand said, coming around to peer over the arm of the couch at the magazine as Daniel flipped to the dog-eared article. "You should be proud of the recognition."

He supposed he was a little proud. A little. His cheeks, however, were burning.

"Well, I mean… cool. I'll save it for the john, I guess. Thanks."

Louis rolled his eyes at his lack of grace, but it was all in good humor. "I'll tell Lestat we're on for tomorrow evening, then." He turned, attention dropping back down to the footprints on the carpet which caused him to grimace again before reaching the door where he paused. "Oh. There'll be booze, but I'll make sure she's got a dry setup for you, Daniel."

"He should be cleared to have a drink," Armand spoke up. "But of course, I'll keep an eye on it."

Daniel could see Louis' eyes narrow a bit, his mouth turning hard before he tugged a smile back on. "Well. Figure we can carpool, if that sounds alright. I'll limit Lestat to a glass of champagne with his cake and designate him driver."

Daniel gave him a nod. "Sounds good."

"And, of course, I'm sure we'll run into each other more between now and then," Louis said, patting the open door jamb before disappearing into the hallway.

"A housewarming," Armand muttered in awe. "I don't believe I've ever been to one of those."

 

---

 

That 30% off turned out to be a real blessing when they were charged an extra hour for making the delivery men wait. It was half past five by the time the bed was set up and the delivery men paid and gone.

"Can you manage getting the bedding on by yourself?" Armand asked.

"Sure. Should be able to."

"If you feel any strain, you'll stop and wait for me?"

"Yeah, but… Why? Where are you going?"

"I've some things to sort out in my office and I really must take care of my laundry and bring up some fresh clothes," Armand explained, stepping up to him and kissing his cheek. "I won't be long. Promise."

"What about dinner?"

"You can manage something for yourself, I'm sure. I'll sort myself out, as well. Don't worry."

He wasn't worried, per se, it was just a little frustrating. The previous night, Armand had been called away around midnight to help with a small kitchen fire. He'd come back in some time in the early morning, smelling like smoke and curling up by the couch until Daniel's alarm woke him from the bedroom. He'd been non-stop since.

And now Daniel was alone, grateful for Armand's show of faith in him and his recovered ability, but also a bit lonesome for it. He'd gotten so used to having Armand around.

He dressed the bed, made it look as nice as he could before flopping back onto the light blue velvet and absent-mindedly stretching himself into an X. It felt good on his back, and he could feel the itching start up around his stitches. He imagined his hands tied to the corners to prevent himself from scratching just as absently. He nearly dozed off before the growl of his stomach brought him back around.

Gotta fend for myself, he thought.

There were the pies, of course. Why not? They weren't half bad with a little hot sauce.

He got up and began to pre-heat the oven, hoping Armand wouldn't be too long, then remembered the reading material Louis had left behind.

The Gravy seemed to be less of a proper magazine and more of a thin weekly freebie. It boasted at least one feature article of substance — "Save the Last Dance: Can New Graven’s only remaining gentleman’s club outlive Mazzoni’s mayoral reign?" — along with typical local features about restaurants and shows.

He flipped to the dog-eared page:

Vampire novelist finds a lair in New Graven

Har har. But, holy shit, a paparazzi photo? Grainy, from a distance, it was him standing outside of Pompeii paying for his valet parking. Armand was next to him, but turned away from the camera. He felt a bit of relief at that. He’d never thought of himself as a guy to get papped and he sure as hell didn’t want to be responsible for Armand being put on blast unaware.

Daniel Molloy, author of the genre-straddling hit vampire novel The Devil’s Minion has reportedly made the switch from west to east coast right here in New Graven’s Tailor's Row.

Molloy, 35, has been spotted around town writing in cafes and taking in business dinners.

Business dinners? He supposed that was the more polite assumption to make about the contrast of his leather jacket to Armand’s three-piece suit. Sighing at the fluff, he skimmed over a summary of the surprise success of The Devil’s Minion, the troubled background of the author that the marketing team for his publishers loved to have sprinkled into his mentions. It didn’t bother him on a personal level, but it did unhelpfully activate the little itching question in the back of his mind about how important it might be to the story…

Molloy’s activities orbit the Tailor’s Row district, home to the New Graven Performing Arts Center as well as the dance clubs Inferno and Sly Fox, where he is rumored to have taken up residence. One wonders if Molloy, who has deflected questions about his connection to the gay community, is looking for inspiration in his new neighborhood.

“One wonders, huh?” Daniel scoffed aloud.

Okay, now he regretted Armand not being in the paparazzi shot. If he was going to get Martin Musto’d like this, people might as well know the man he was seeing was ridiculously hot.

Right on cue, the oven dinged. Daniel wasn’t going to get so worked up about this that he didn’t eat lunch. He’d made his peace with the prospect of being speculated about since deciding to publish the book, and he couldn’t deny the humor in the fact that by the time it finally happened in earnest, it was true.

 

---

 

Daniel had dozed off on the couch with The Gravy on his chest, open to a ranking of the best hot dog stands in the city. The sun had already begun to set and when Armand let himself back into the apartment, he stirred to darkness in a state of mild confusion.

The light came on, causing him to shield his eyes as he sat upright from the position he'd slumped into. Again, the itching around his stitches set in and he stopped himself from scratching, halting his hand in mid-air with a groan.

"Mm'and?"

"Yes, it's only me."

"Time is it…?"

"Later than I'd anticipated, for which I am sorry. Eglee has been dealing with a personal matter and someone jammed the shredder."

"A personal matter?"

Daniel stopped himself short of a full stretch, mindful and alert enough not to disturb his stitches with it.

"She's dealing with a stalker."

Oh.

Armand was sliding his shoes off and loosening his tie. The duffel he'd taken with him was pushed up against the wall, presumably for him to deal with later.

"You got your clothes sorted?"

"I'll need to drop some things off at the dry cleaners tomorrow after your appointment."

"I'll be able to drive us," Daniel said with a yawn.

Armand smiled at him, looking a good 20% less buttoned up than he'd looked when he left him and all the sexier for it.

Except…

"Your hair's different," Daniel commented, getting to his feet and resisting another urge to stretch.

Armand looked caught. His hand reached as if to touch his now-loose curls, hesitated in the air, and then dropped.

"Yes. I… I had a shower."

"You had a shower…" It didn't make much sense following the contrition Armand was showing for having taken so long to get back. "You could've just showered here."

He fought against the paranoid thoughts attacking him from all sides. Could he have stopped to watch the cameras? Could he have gotten distracted touching himself? Was it, in fact, proving to be a real problem Daniel couldn't, in good conscience, keep ignoring? Was ignoring even the word? He was actively enjoying it. Had Armand made such a mess of himself that he'd needed a quick rinse?

Daniel recoiled at his own biological response to that thought.

A couple of sick pups, the both of you…

"I trust that you ate?" Armand asked, fully changing the topic.

"I ate. Yeah."

"And you're in no severe amount of pain?"

"No," he answered. "No pain. Armand, why did you need to stop and take a shower when you were in a hurry to get back?"

"Showering was incidental. I was in the shower already, so I thought I might as well present the style of hair you prefer. Washed and towel-dried. Does it please you?"

Showering was incidental, huh? Still didn't explain why he was in the shower in the first place.

But there was a lot of good on their horizon. A lot of things Daniel had no interest in fucking up at this particular juncture. Like a bed to share, his stitches coming out, an evening with friends and yes, even dry cleaning. Normalcy. Normalcy — or the semblance of it — at last.

"What is this 'does it please me' business?" he asked, softening into a smile. Concern later. Confrontation after tomorrow. Yeah, they'd talk about a plan for the cameras eventually, of course they would. Just… not right this second. "Of course it does. You're gorgeous."

Armand softened, too. He drew closer, his defenses lowered, his body moving with a liquid slowness that only made Daniel more disoriented. Had he even woken? Was he still dreaming? And could that account for all the things that weren't quite adding up?

"I apologize for taking longer than I'd planned. Do you forgive me?" He came to grip the front of Daniel's shirt in his fists, eyes large and hopeful.

"Nothing to forgive."

Daniel's palms were beginning to itch. He wanted to grab Armand about the waist, haul him in and squeeze. It'd be so natural a thing to do.

"Good." Armand's eyes fluttered closed and he bent his lips to Daniel's, brushing over them and making him shiver. "I've prepared myself for you," he whispered.

Despite the implication not quite sinking in, Daniel felt his breaker trip.

"Uhhhh-heh-heh…"

With a lack of clear direction and those discordant five words hanging in the air between them, he was like a sheet twisting in the wind. His instinct had him pulling his arms behind his back, clasping his hands together. Once he recovered the ability to speak coherently again, he did.

"You couldn't just 'prepare' yourself here?"

Armand shook his head, still so close to Daniel that they were sharing the same breath. "Unless I'm incorrect in my assumption that you don't own a douche."

Own a WHAT?

"We've a bed, now," Armand continued, low and breathy. He lifted his arms over Daniel's shoulders, linking his own fingers behind him — the closest to an embrace they'd had since the night in the walls. "Don't you think we should celebrate?"

Sex. He means sex. Right?

Daniel opened his big, stupid mouth and prayed that whatever clarifying question tumbled out wouldn't completely throw a wrench in things.

"You want me to fuck you?"

Could've come out worse. Could also have come out with a little more conviction behind it. He was feeling hesitant, though. Him. Daniel Molloy, thinking before sticking it in. Who'd have thought?

Armand wasn't just some guy he'd picked up, though, and now that Daniel's mind was running back over all their tracks of stopping and starting and never getting this far, he was recalling the first night he'd felt really certain they would.

The night he'd discovered Armand's dwelling… and the cameras.

He was running up against some sharp disparities, here. Admonishment for daring to desire sex contrasted against a latent expectation for him to. And Daniel was no expert, of course — the conclusions he'd begun to come to regarding Armand's past were murky at best — but he had to wonder if a man who could panic so dramatically in the face of Daniel's advances (ones he'd openly invited) weeks ago could possibly know if he was ready for sex now.

And, then, there was all the masturbation. What was it Daniel had read in rehab about the signs to look out for in victims of sexual abuse?

"Daniel?"

He snapped himself back into the present, back to the room where he was bracketed between Armand's arms, that loving stare boring into him with stalled expectation.

"Yeah, boss?"

"I answered you. I said yes. If you'd have me."

Maybe now simply wasn't the time for nuance.

"Oh, I'd have you, babe. Don't you worry about that."

There it is… I'm back, baby…

He kept his hands very well behaved as Armand pressed in close, chests touching now, mouths hovering. Daniel thought that Armand might do something wild. Bite him, maybe. But, instead, he withdrew, leaving Daniel for the duffel bag against the wall.

"You go shower, Daniel. I'll prepare the restraints."

 

---

 

When he was fresh from the shower, Daniel emerged with a towel about his waist, the lights were on the dimmest setting and there were several candles in various states of melted set up around the room, glowing warm. Daniel didn't own any candles, so he could only assume that they'd been brought in by Armand, himself. Armand, who was sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him now.

Daniel conquered the urge to ask where (who) the candles had come from, and approached him instead.

"You didn't undress," he said, hand over where the towel was secured at his hip.

"I thought you might make a joke at my expense were you to find me looking too eager."

That stung a little. Daniel had been making comments over the course of the last week. Every time he'd turned his head while they sat on the couch together watching TV, or otherwise laying about the apartment to find Armand squirming again with an idle hand down his pants. Perhaps he could've been more delicate.

"Eager is fine," he said. "Eager is good, actually."

"So you'd have preferred me nude and waiting?"

"I never really was one for the whole Princess Freya fantasy," he admitted. "I mean, generally I prefer to be the one at someone's disposal."

Armand showed him a soft smile. "Yes. I had considered that."

Daniel watched him run his gaze down him, to where his hand bolstered the towel. He dropped it to his side and Armand took it upon himself to tug the towel loose. It fell around Daniel's feet and he held his breath steady as Armand appraised him.

"Doesn't hurt?" Armand asked, running the tips of his fingers around the mending wound, still soft from the shower.

"No. Followed the doctor's orders and only washed around the area."

"You didn't pick or peel?"

"No, sir."

Armand hummed. He let his fingers trail down Daniel's belly and looked up.

"I'm at your command," Daniel added after a beat, hoping to hurry things along or at least to receive some sort of marching orders.

"Is that so? Because I suspect what you really desire is to see me strip out of my clothes. You're scared to ask and disrupt the balance. You were hoping I'd just do it."

"You got me."

"You can ask me. I want you to ask me for the things you want, too."

"Alright, then… yeah. I'd like to see you. You always have your clothes on."

Daniel hadn't pressed the issue on the bath thing since the first night Armand had skirted it and every time they'd had their lopsided version of sex, Armand had remained at least somewhat clothed no matter the state of dress Daniel found himself in.

"You could've asked me earlier," Armand said as though it were a gotcha of sorts. A little unfair, considering that Daniel felt as though he were tip-toeing real, live mines here. And he was doing it all in the dark.

Never mind that now. You'll lose your nerve.

"You're nervous I could hurt you?" Armand asked him next, sitting back on his palms.

"No, I know you could. But that's not what's got me nervous."

"How can I help?"

"You can tell me what to do so I don't have to worry about bungling this up."

Armand laughed. "Very well." He pushed up off the bed and stepped out of Daniel's way, gesturing to it. "Get on the bed, in the center, and spread your arms out above your head."

Done and done.

As he'd climbed onto the bed, he'd noted the rope tied around the top two legs. They were drawn up to rest on either side, just about where he imagined his wrists might fall. And, of course, he discovered he'd been right.

Armand came into view, first on his right side where he looped the rope around Daniel's wrist and made a knot that he couldn't quite follow on the first watch. He got a better understanding after the second and once he'd satisfied Armand that he was comfortable enough and the he was absolutely certain the ropes weren't going to be too tight, Armand finally began to undress.

Daniel's toes clenched in the air in anticipation of seeing the sum of all of Armand at last. His cock was stirring to attention between his legs and his supine position was making it a little difficult to be modest.

He takes his clothes off like there's a wall of bullet proof glass between us…

It was like a dance, button by button, slow and careful. His shirt came off, his belt, then finally his pants.

"I would've worn something nicer," Armand said as his socked feet stepped out of them and Daniel saw, for a flash as he lifted his knee, that he was wearing leather sock-braces on his calves.

Fuck off those are sexy…

"-Underneath," Armand continued. "But I didn't have anything that wasn't borrowed."

Was he apologizing for something? Daniel wished he could slap himself focused.

"What?"

"Under my clothes. I wish I'd had something to reveal that wasn't-"

"What, you mean like lingerie or something?"

Was that even a thing? Did they even make men's lingerie?

"I just meant something that wasn't so every day and plain."

"I mean, if you wanted to keep something on, I wouldn't object to those sock garter thingies."

Sock garter… thingies?

Armand had just lifted one beautifully sculpted leg to the end of the bed to unfasten one of them and he halted, lifting an eyebrow.

Mouth feeling suddenly dry, Daniel licked his lips and nodded. "Keep 'em?"

"That would please you?"

"Yeah. A lot."

Armand seemed to swell a little as he brought his leg back down. "Alright. Sure." He shimmied his underwear down, kicked out of them, and then he was crawling up the bed.

"The, uh… the lube and condoms are in the-"

"Yes, Daniel…"

Yes, Daniel, of course, Daniel…

Well enough, because Daniel was struck dumb a moment later when Armand was straddling his thigh and leaning across to get into the bedside drawer. Daniel's hands tugged in their restraints like they had a mind of their own and it'd been stubbornly made up about getting a feel for Armand's thighs.

When Armand had his supplies, he settled himself between Daniel's spread legs, managing to avoid even brushing his dick in the process while his own was absently taken up in his left hand, half-heartedly stroked as he curiously turned the foil-wrapped condom this way and that in his hand, seeming to inspect it.

"No pinpricks. Promise."

"Hmm?"

"What are you looking for?"

Armand chewed his lip, eyes focusing harder on the wrapper. "I thought there might be instructions."

"It's… just a regular condom…"

Armand hummed again and left his idle stroking to tear it open. He stared at it a good while before turning his focus to Daniel's waiting dick.

"You have… used one before, right?" Daniel asked.

"No, actually."

Again, Daniel's hands tugged, ready to take the thing from him, unburden him, teach him. Frustrated, his head fell back.

"I'm sorry," Armand apologized. "I know that it's something I should-"

"I'm not frustrated with you, I just… I would take care of this part if I-"

"Ah…"

An awkward silence grew between them before Daniel couldn't stand the suspense any longer.

"Look for the little peak on it. You want to be able to roll it down, so check that you have the right side, first."

"Like this?" Armand pinched the tip and held it closer for Daniel to inspect.

"Looks good. You got it. Now you'll place it on the head and roll it. Slowly."

Armand nodded dutifully and did as Daniel directed, holding his cock in place and rolling the condom successfully over his head and down him, bit by bit.

Daniel let out a sigh when it was finished and he could finally allow himself to enjoy Armand's hand on him.

Then, it occurred to him that he had no idea how he was going to get Armand ready for him if he needed to.

"I hope we didn't jump the gun on tying me up," he said, lifting his head to see that Armand's was tilted to the side and he was inspecting his work with some curiosity. "I usually have to get a guy ready when I… I mean, in the past when I've…"

"Oh, it's no trouble preparing myself, Daniel. I've done a little work behind the curtain so it wouldn't have to inconvenience you."

Daniel blinked. "It's no inconvenience, babe. I mean… I certainly don't mind."

And there was also the fact that he was quite considerably large. Not that he was bragging, but reportedly, he could be difficult to take comfortably for some. Even impossible at times.

"Well, you're presently indisposed, so I don't think you'll have a choice."

"Suppose now's a good time to mention that we definitely jumped the gun on the condom, then," Daniel joked.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

On second thought, explaining condoms and flagging sensitivity was probably better suited to the second time. Or the third. Or maybe never, considering how well they tended to go down with Alice in the past. Adding on to that, Daniel figured now probably wasn't a great time to lament the missed opportunity for a little head, either. Not out loud, anyway. And keeping coincidentally on theme, Armand surprised Daniel with the next thing he said.

"I want to try your mouth…"

Daniel's cock strained hard at that one.

"Try my… Uh, yeah… sure."

Fuck.

Armand bit his lip, stroked himself a time or two, and then he was crawling up Daniel's body — at first laying flush against him, so much naked skin touching, and then kissing him briefly before Daniel felt the warm slide of him, legs slipping between legs, hips, cocks, and-

"Ah! Ah… shit…"

"Oh! Daniel, I'm sorry!"

Armand had forgotten himself, bearing his weight down on top of Daniel's tender side. He'd frozen, then, his carriage held above Daniel by his capable, well-toned arms.

Hellooooo nurse…

They stared at one another like animals caught in headlights and then Daniel cracked. His abrupt laugh brought about a slow smile from Armand and soon he, too, was laughing.

"It was never going to be perfect," Daniel said. "I mean, I'm laid up and lame."

"I wasn't aiming for perfection, exactly. I was just hoping to look sexy."

The honesty made Daniel laugh more and the sore spot in his gut began to wash out of his consciousness through it. "You do. Believe me."

Armand recovered and carefully arranged himself so he was straddling Daniel's waist, lifted up onto his knees. His thighs squeezed a little at Daniel's ribcage, but he found that he liked the compression, actually.

"Should I prop your head up with a pillow?" Armand asked, seeming lost in the consideration.

Daniel gave a shrug. "I don't know. I've never given head to a guy at this angle. Sure?"

That seemed to settle it, somehow. Armand nodded in affirmation. "Yes. You should be propped," he said, leaning over Daniel and tempting him to go for a nipple like a fish in a bowl at feeding hour. He stuffed a pillow behind him, cradling his head in the meantime with the palm of one hand as Daniel lapped and sucked at him. "Hah… There."

It was a disappointment to have Armand's chest ripped away from him, but then he was climbing up higher on his chest, his thighs spread so wide and only able to bracket Daniel thanks to their incredible length, and Daniel was confronted for the first time at such short distance with his beautiful, blushing cock, already wet and glossy at the head.

Daniel's once dry mouth filled and he had to swallow fast, lick his lips, and then Armand met them and he parted for him. The taste of him was bright, salty, but clean underneath. The thatch of dark hair that drew nearer to his face as Armand slid over his tongue and bumped over the roof of his mouth. He smelled like soap with only the lightest spice of male arousal under it and his hair tickled Daniel's nose a bit when he pushed to the very hilt with a stuttered cry.

And Daniel was full then. The drag of Armand up his chest was a secondary sensation to the filling of his mouth, the tapping against the back of it that set off the reflex to swallow around him. Luckily, Daniel had had the opportunity to school the gag out of himself — but still, it'd been so long and the bruising stretch as the head of Armand's cock pushed past it caused some alarm to well in his chest.

Armand retreated, then, and through brimming, reflexive tears Daniel saw that he wore a look of curious concern.

"Is that alright?" he asked. "I won't hurt you?"

"It's alright," Daniel answered, voice just a little choked. "Fuck me, you're beautiful from this angle."

Armand gave him a half smile, pushing his fingers into Daniel's crown. "I'm worried my nerves are breaking the illusion for you."

"What illusion?"

"That I'm confident I know what I'm doing."

"We're figuring it out together, boss."

Already, Daniel's mouth missed him and Armand must've sensed it, seen it in the way Daniel's eyes dropped back down to him and his lips trembled.

"Alright, then," Armand sighed, gripping his hair and pushing his hips forward once more, pulling Daniel in tandem with the effort until he was once again seated in the cavern of his mouth.

When Daniel moaned, it was in gratitude and Armand pumped his hips, small and measured, slightly in and slightly out again, until Daniel began to pull that weight himself. He bobbed his head forward and back, speeding things along, feeling the strain against his tongue and the roof of his mouth, swelling that prised his jaw a little, made the thing hotter, denser. The taste of Armand trickled out over the back of his tongue, down his throat. The man was a fountain, normally. Especially if it was the first indulgence of the day — and Daniel knew, of course, that unless Armand had knocked one off in the hours he'd been away 'preparing', that this was the first he'd witnessed, at least. And it was all his.

Armand pushed in hard, held, fingers pulling roughly at Daniel's curls. His clenched fist at the top of Daniel's head trembled with some effort and Daniel's throat felt the pulse of him as he swallowed and swallowed, another thin salty trickle down his throat, threatening to end up in his sinuses. For the first time, Daniel sputtered, but he was disciplined not to clamp down, not to rear back and fight.

Armand gentled after a while, pulled back again and resumed his softer pace. It'd made Daniel dizzy and dazed. His nose was a little sore from the hard press against Armand's pubic bone and his throat felt punched from the inside. It was heaven.

God, he'd missed giving head. He hadn't realized just how much.

Armand left him again, then, settling back on his chest and drawing his hand down to caress Daniel's cheek. "Suppose that's enough of that…" he panted, ruddy cheeked and heavy-lidded.

"Could keep going," Daniel choked. "Wouldn't complain…"

Armand smirked and blindly reached behind himself to feel for Daniel's dick.

Oh. Right.

He gave it a squeeze through the latex stretched over it as if checking to be sure Daniel had enjoyed what just transpired while also reminding him of what was to come. That there was so much to be looking forward to, still.

"Yeah, no, you're right. We can move along…"

Armand scaled back down him, landing between his legs again. He took the bottle of lube up and flipped the cap before grabbing Daniel by the base to hold him upright. The dollop of the stuff was cold until Armand was smoothing it down him with practiced hands, reminding Daniel again that he'd been such a good nurse these past few weeks. Not that it was clinical, exactly. Although… Well, in a way, Daniel supposed that it was. A shudder ran through him when his subconscious considered why that might be. It tapped at the insulating bubble his present, waking consciousness had formed around the two of them in this moment. He shuttered it out.

"That's good, babe," his mouth started up. He could always count on that, at least. If Daniel had one tool in his belt to fight against his unwanted thoughts, it was the power of his running mouth. "Get it nice and slick, you're gonna need it."

Armand was fixated on it. He squeezed out a bit more and rubbed it over his own spit-slick dick. "Surely that will be enough?"

"Wish I could get you wet inside, first," Daniel's motor continued to idle without him.

"I don't require it…"

Armand was pushing Daniel's legs back together, now, throwing his own over them and bringing himself to rest on Daniel's thighs. He took them together in hand a moment, stroked them up and down in the way he'd done several times now over the last couple of weeks. It was made a little blunt by the condom, but still it had Daniel's toes curling, his eyes rolling back.

"I'm going to sit on it, now," Armand narrated.

Yes, good, Jesus, fuck…

If it was a weird way to announce it, it didn't matter. It didn't matter because he was following through, raising himself up and moving up Daniel's hips, leaning back and stretching his body lithe as he gripped Daniel behind him, bringing him to nestle just between his cheeks. Daniel could feel himself sliding up to meet Armand's entrance, which he could distinguish by the concentration of heat. He was going to be molten inside and Daniel's dick twitched at the thought.

There was a lot of pressure as Armand bore down, but Daniel didn't breach him. A surprised — impressed? — almost disbelieving look washed over Armand's face.

"More lube, maybe?" Daniel asked.

"No, just…" His lips disappeared between his teeth and he tried again with a determined grunt.

Daniel felt himself squeeze in finally, remembering all at once just how tight other men's bodies could be.

"Fuck…"

Armand was wincing, his eyes so narrow and concentrated on the headboard behind Daniel that it seemed to him like it might be a lost cause. An immense disappointment began to settle over him and then Armand slid down him another few centimeters and the pleasure washed it away.

"God," Armand shuddered, bringing himself all the way down at last, shaking with the effort, eyes still far away and gone. "This… really is quite ridiculous, Daniel."

He was boiling hot inside and so very tight that Daniel's words were coming out strangled.

"If you need to stop," he began. "If you need-"

"No." Armand's head shook and he continued to sit, tensed up tight one moment, then drawing a deep breath and releasing it.

Daniel felt him relax some.

Another breath, in and then out, and he relaxed a little more.

Daniel, meanwhile, was tensing up himself with the effort not to buck his hips. The grip Armand had inside him was dangerous.

The nerves, probably… Or how long it's been for him…

It'd been a while for Daniel, too, he supposed. Another thing to consider, though maybe not now, was that the men who typically sought him out were ones with predilections for his size. Daniel had no idea what Armand's preferences were. He doubted Armand knew, himself, having only ever been with one other man.

And then, that bit of seriousness dawned on him.

"I want this to be good," he said. "For you. You gotta tell me if-"

"Mmm," Armand hummed in place of words. He brought the tips of his four fingers to Daniel's mouth, holding it shut while he bent forward on him, his other hand bracing him on Daniel's shoulder, gripping him there.

A few seconds passed like that and then Armand rocked his hips and his fingers fell away from Daniel's lips. With both hands braced on Daniel's shoulders, he began to move in earnest.

Daniel's brain turned to sludge. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Armand's eyes were finally focused on him, the concentration having turned to vacant awe — like the look he'd get when they watched each other from opposite sides of the couch sometimes. He was getting into it, thank god. Daniel's size would obviously be something to adjust to in the broader sense, but if he'd been able to here and now, Daniel could hold some hope that it wouldn't be too large an issue.

"Is this alright?" Armand asked in a whisper.

Daniel couldn't believe it. "You're… you're asking me?"

"I must know if this works for you."

He's kidding…

"Does it work for you? I was about to…"

Armand's hips drove forward and then back and Daniel lost his vocabulary.

"Yes?" Armand prompted in a breathy whisper, hands sliding past his shoulders, slipping under the pillow propping Daniel's head while their bodies pressed at the chest. Armand's lips found his ear, kissed him there. "You were about to…?" he continued.

"Was about to… call it off…"

"Oh…" Armand continued his slow back and forth churn, his slicked-over dick dragging up and down between their bellies. "Well I'm very pleased that you did not."

Yeah. Daniel was pleased, too. His arms were burning. He wanted to wrap them around Armand's warm body, squeeze them closer, hold his hips in place and fuck him from below.

"Just don't want you to push yourself…"

He felt his earlobe bit between Armand's teeth as the angle of his hips changed slightly. Armand chewed a little before letting it go and moaning into Daniel's ear, hips shaking.

"Ahh… there…"

A warmth spread on Daniel's belly and the lazy gears in his brain began to turn.

He knows how to find his own pleasure, he's gonna make this so easy…

"Let me see," Daniel prompted.

Armand did not hesitate, drawing himself up with his back arched to display himself for Daniel. His head lolled onto his shoulder as he braced his hands on top of his own thighs, his heavy cock rising from it's sticky mess on Daniel's stomach, lifting into the air for Daniel to see the strain in it and the glinting thread of sap still connecting them.

Armand sighed, eyes fluttering closed and a smile spreading on his face. "There's no bad angle," he said.

Daniel felt himself laugh. "What?"

"You fill me out so well, I can't escape you…"

Sure thing, sweetheart. Whatever you say.

He watched Armand's lips part and he rose and fell on him, stroking him with his body and making the muscles of his stomach go tense. It hurt a little, stung where his healing skin was tight and dry and scabbed over still, then there was the dull ache of his damaged muscle. It didn't detract, only added, and it made Daniel want to temper back the mounting pleasure inside him before it overflowed and he ruined this with an early finish.

"You can hit me," he said.

Haha, what?

"What?" Armand asked in tandem with Daniel's inner thoughts. His eyes snapped open in surprise and his hips froze where they'd risen, squeezing Daniel so tight, so near the crown of his cock that he wasn't sure if the orgasm threatening him was being strangled into submission or brought closer to the surface.

"Slap me, hit me, I don't know-" Daniel rambled in a panic. He was desperate to delay it. He could not be allowed to ruin it this time.

Armand blinked at him a few times, settling back down on him — DANGER DANGER ALERT — but then he hauled his arm back and slapped him across the face full force.

A starburst of bright white exploded in front of Daniel — no pain at first, just a balloon-pop shock. WHAM! Like a cartoon crack of a bat against a baseball bearing his own face.

Shit… knocked me into another dimension, Daniel thought. The sound of his own laughter brought him around, pulled the color of the room back into focus with it, and Daniel's vibrating head and cold cheek began to tingle as the blood flowed back into it and Armand started to take shape in front of his eyes again.

"Daniel…?"

"M'okay… fuck…"

He tasted blood. He tasted a lot of blood. His mouth was filling with it and he had to swallow to speak again.

"Maybe a little less wind-up next time," he joked, feeling a little trickle from the corner of his mouth and watching Armand's eyes dart to it like a cat's.

Oh. Right…

"Daniel, you're…"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah… Come on, then, you little sicko. I know you want to."

Armand grabbed the sides of his face and pulled himself down to kiss him with nearly as much force as he'd slapped him with. Daniel's lips were gonna bruise and he could feel the slice in his cheek working over his molars while he kissed Armand back, tongue pushing the welling blood into his mouth — yes, there you are, take it if you want it so bad.

"Fuck," Armand gasped against his lips, forehead still pressed to Daniel's as his right thumb caressed him on the side he'd connected with.

Daniel's blood made their lips slick and his tongue chased Armand when he retreated for air, licking, taking some of it back for himself. "Yeah?" he grunted back.

Armand licked back into his mouth again, then bit his lower lip, scraping it clean. "Fuck," he repeated. "I love you—"

His hips had started up again and they hadn't missed a beat even while the realization of what had just happened hit Daniel and he was stopped dead in place.

He didn't… Did he…?

"Daniel, I could drink you," Armand went on. It was as if he hadn't heard himself only a moment ago. As if the gravity weighing Daniel down now against the bed had no pull on him.

And Daniel, himself, was growing lighter again with every thrust. His briefly abated pleasure mounting, though tapered enough still by the shock of the slap and the absent declaration.

Armand's lips were bloody and shining in the dim, warm light of the room. There was a trickle down his chin, darkly obscene, gorgeous…

Fucking gorgeous…

"We'll have to…" Oh, Daniel's mouth was leaving him in the dust again, it seemed. "We'll have to get you some fake fangs or something…"

Stupid.

The image filled his head. He saw Armand riding his dick, up and down, naked save for a cheap drugstore halloween cape and a pair of big, white plastic fangs in his tiny mouth. He laughed, imagining Armand holding the cape out like batwings as he undulated, drooling around the stupid teeth and counting his thrusts; One, ahh-ahhh, TWO ahh-ahhh…

Absurd.

But what was this?

"Armand…?"

So wrapped up in his silly little fantasy, he hadn't realized when Armand had gone for his wrist. His cool fingers were tickling against Daniel's rubbed-raw skin as they flew to untie him.

"What are you-"

"Hush," Armand whispered, hurried. He freed Daniel's left wrist and pivoted to his right, his body moving enough with the effort to give Daniel the slightest bit of friction inside him, just enough to keep him desperate. "I want your hands on me…"

Lightening bolt panic. Flashes of what happened the last time. Daniel sputtered.

"I want to give myself completely," Armand went on. "I trust you. I know I can trust you, now…"

Like he'd passed some sort of test? His mind scrambled to remember if there'd been one. If he'd known.

Then he was free, arms tingling, wrists cold where the ropes had hugged them. He and Armand stared at one another like time had been suspended and then it snapped back into the onward march again and Daniel was sitting up, grabbing for Armand to pull him back into a kiss. He ignored the screeching pain in his gut, kissed the drying blood off his man's lips and pushed forward enough to send Armand back a little, reaching to catch him around the small of his back.

He used the momentum to lift him with a forceful upward thrust, body moving with an intuition of its own to heft Armand's weight, to force them into a new configuration. Daniel kissed and pressed and handled until Armand was on his back, underneath him.

He had to pull back, then. To assess.

Armand's eyes were bigger and rounder than Daniel even remembered seeing them after he'd been stabbed. His beautiful face was nestled back in his curls against the bed and his arms had come up around Daniel's shoulder's, his legs crossed behind Daniel's back. And Daniel had never left him, hadn't disconnected from him once in all that shuffling effort.

"Is this-"

Armand stopped him. Slammed their mouths back together and ate the words right out of his. It was as good as any other green light, Daniel supposed, and he pumped into him, tempered and careful, swallowing the whine from Armand in return.

His stitches felt so tight, his core having grown so unused to all this work had him burning, but he worked, holding himself back the best he could despite everything in him crying out for him to turn Armand to pulp.

He lifted to look again, because what a waste if he didn't, and Armand's pleading, upward drawn eyebrows nearly ended him then and there.

Then Armand spoke.

"Hadn't you promised," he said, breaking to gasp between, "to fuck me hard if I wanted you to?" He panted into a slight laugh, one brow lifting up in challenge.

Oh, so it's like that…

It was almost a blessing to know he could run his mouth without risk of ruining things. "That what you want?" He punctuated 'that' with a powerful snap of his hips.

"Hah… Well," Armand went on, recovering his mocking tone which only revved Daniel's engine, winding him up. "Maybe a little attention down here, as well…"

He slid his left hand down Daniel's shoulder, down his arm, circling around his wrist and wrenching it from behind his back. He pulled it around and shoved it between them, down to his poor, neglected cock.

Daniel's mouth hung open and his brain went smooth as he gripped around it, feeling how hot, wet, and hard it was in his fist.

"Can you manage multi-tasking?" Armand added hot insult to delicious injury.

Could he ever…

He gave him a gentle squeeze to start before slamming into him again. He let himself find the pace with his hips first, then followed with his stroke. He willed himself to concentrate on Armand, first, above his own pleasure, and then as he grew more confident in his pace, as Armand responded with the appropriate moans and whimpers, he let himself get lost in it.

"Daniel, yes, fuck, yes that's good…"

He let the encouragement build him up and he was edging closer and closer, feeling Armand tensing around him, his fingers digging into his back as if he could pull him in deeper somehow — as if Daniel wasn't slamming into him so hard his hip bones hurt.

"Want you to come first," Daniel grunted against his cheek, his sweaty forehead nuzzling against Armand's temple.

As if hearkening to the command, Armand took up some of the effort, rolling his hips up to meet Daniel's thrusts, fucking his fist out of sync with his stroke.

Daniel recalibrated to work with him instead of against him, let him lead from below, and after a few short seconds, Armand was trembling under him, cock strained thick in his fist and then pumping out his release between them.

He'd crunched inward, rising up and attempting to muffle his cry against Daniel's shoulder, but Daniel had pulled back to watch, himself — to do like Armand always did and try to intuit it, ride it out with him, keep it going as long as he could. He pushed Armand back down with his left hand and continued to tighten, pull, wait for the pulse, then repeat with his right as Armand intermittently squeezed around his dick.

He'd successfully managed to beat back his own orgasm just long enough, but Armand's was drawing it out of him, bringing it closer and closer to the surface and if he let it hit him now, without any aid, it'd come without the fanfare it deserved. After all that? He was certain Armand would be let down, as well.

So he slowed his stroke to a stop, let himself feel the final, weak throb in his palm before letting Armand's cock go, pulling himself up onto his knees and tugging his ragdoll limp legs up by his thighs around his hips. He paid no mind to the sticky mess he was making, spreading Armand's cum around with no consideration for the cleaning up that would follow, and stared down at his flushed face. He hadn't recovered, and Daniel wondered if he should wait. He hadn't the time, however. That fact was pressing him, urging him to just go for it. So he did.

He slapped his cum-covered palm down on Armand's lower belly, just above his hips and started up again, fucking him wild and hard and focusing solely on his own pleasure in the wake of Armand's, plunging into its aftermath as Armand's whimpers struck back up, encouraging him to keep going, keep chasing, even as he winced uncomfortably through it.

"Fuck, Daniel, yes, keep going…"

Daniel could feel the way he displaced Armand's insides through his belly, even through the tensed muscles just under the skin. He bore down harder with his palm, thrust deeper into him, and let himself go, pushing in and in as he spasmed inside, wave after wave, each one loosening the tension he was holding in his limbs a bit more until he was all but lax, slumping over Armand's panting body.

Armand pulled him down the rest of the way and once again, Daniel's belly was coated in a sticky, ill-advised mess.

Oh well. Whoops. Sorry, doc.

Armand held him, rubbing their cheeks together, kissing his neck, nipping at the skin of his shoulder. Daniel soaked it in a while before murmuring against him.

"I know you asked me to, but… if that was too rough…"

He felt the rumble under his chest. Armand was laughing.

At him?

"Daniel, we should take care of your face. You need ice, there's a bruise forming already."

Oh.

"No shit? Really?"

"No shit."

"Well I shouldn't be surprised, I mean… you really walloped me."

Armand laughed again. "Yes."

Their mess was getting cold where the air touched it and Daniel could smell the mix of them together now that the cloudy post-climax haze was settling over them.

"I should get us cleaned up," Armand said a moment later, tensing under Daniel as if to get up, but Daniel pinned him back down.

"No, you stay here. I'll take care of it."

"Daniel-" he protested.

"Let me."

 

---

 

Armand couldn't account for how long Daniel was gone; it might've been seconds, minutes, many or few. Their fluids were cooling on his skin, but it was as if it were happening outside of a carapace. He could feel it in a way, but it did not touch him. The discomfort could not sully what had just taken place. He was hot and throbbing still, inside, and all of him was concentrated there. The rest of him was an impenetrable shell.

He was so very happy.

Daniel came back to him with a warm, wet cloth, cleaned him up, removed his garters and socks with reverent delicacy before kissing the top of each of his feet, and then took him by the hand and lead him into the bathroom where the tub was filling. Yes, Armand remembered hearing that. He'd brought candles into the bathroom as well. Taken them from his dresser where Armand had originally arranged them and set them on the steps of the bathtub. Armand considered what this might mean.

"Daniel, you're under doctor's orders not to-"

"Relax, I'm not getting in. It's for you."

Oh. Oh, I see…

Armand had needed to come up with so many excuses over the course of his stay here in Daniel's apartment and now he had none. And it didn't matter. He watched Daniel switch the vanity light from bright white to dim yellow, watched him turn the main light off and gesture to the tub.

"I checked to make sure it wouldn't be too hot, already," he said. "Get in."

No, it wasn't too hot at all. It was just right and as Armand stepped up with Daniel's hand and lowered himself into the water, he let himself consider all that had changed. He tried to pinpoint what exact moment he'd fallen in love with Daniel and found that he couldn't. He tried to trace back the night in his mind to find the moment in time that he'd realized it, and even that eluded him. He settled into the warm bath and let himself reflect on all of that and not at all on the last bath he remembered or those that had preceded it.

Things were different now. Things were getting better and better by the day.

"What is that?" Armand asked.

"Bubbles," Daniel answered. "Well… soap. But it'll make bubbles."

Armand laughed, delighted to see that it did. Daniel was pumping it out under the faucet and the bubbles were building and expanding like a glittering city of fresh snow.

"Alright, hang tight and I'll be right back."

"Where are you-"

"I gotta ice my face," Daniel said with a laugh, setting the bottle of soap down before dipping to give him a playful splash.

In the dim candle light, Armand hadn't been able to see the blooming bruise any longer. He'd nearly forgotten. Remembering now gave him an electric shiver. He went for the bottle of soap and took it upon himself to pump a little more out, swirling the water to create more before shutting the faucet off, himself, and settling back against the wall of the tub.

He looked at his reflection and smiled. He looked well loved and sleepy.

"Had to chip these out of some ice at the back, but check it out."

Daniel had entered the room again, a bag of frozen peas in hand. He was dressed, now, in a pair of boxers and he came to settle on the edge of the tub, carefully dipping his legs in and holding the peas to his cheek.

"That enough bubbles for you?" he asked, lifting one foot up with a mountain of them balanced on top.

"Almost," Armand answered cheekily. He pulled himself nearer to Daniel and rested his own cheek on his knee, gazing up at him. "That was fun," he said. He regretted how humdrum the statement sounded. It was so much more than that, but they were winding down from it now. The atmosphere was romantic and subdued and he didn't want to agitate it.

"Don't sell yourself short," Daniel said. "That was…"

He'd stopped himself short and Armand was certain he knew exactly why. He giggled.

"You can be crass," he said. "I don't mind."

"You're an insanely hot lay, is what I was going to say. But that's me selling it short."

"Well… thank you. You're not so bad yourself." And now that Daniel had opened the floor… "I really enjoyed having you under my power."

Daniel chuckled, wiggling his knee a little under Armand's cheek. "Yeah. Me, too."

"But then, when I let you free, it was like… it was like I unleashed you upon me. Like a starved lion or… or…"

His knee stopped. "You like that? I mean…"

"Yes. Daniel, it was so primal. I've never felt freer to let go and just… enjoy…"

Armand lifted his head from Daniel's knee when that was met with silence. He tried to gauge his expression, but the vanity and candles were behind him, the only light illuminating his features coming from the reflection in the mirror.

"It's a compliment, Daniel," he added self-consciously.

"Yeah, no, I… thanks. Obviously, I enjoyed that, too."

"I should schedule a blood test for myself so we can forego the condoms."

Again, Daniel was silent and Armand was left to worry that he might've miscalculated or said something strange. He squinted at Daniel, saw him catch his eyes and watched his expression morph into a smile in the flickering light.

"You want to 'forego the condoms', huh?" he teased.

Armand nodded. "Of course. That's what dedicated lovers do, right? Louis and Lestat don't use them…"

The smile seemed to fade.

"Daniel?"

"Sorry. Was just thinking…"

"Yes?"

"I wish I had a big palm leaf or something. To fan you with."

Relieved, Armand pushed himself back to the far side of the tub and lifted his feet out, crossing them at the ankle over Daniel's knee as he sunk down to his chin in the bubbles. "I see. I'd have you wearing less than that, if that were the case."

"A big leaf to fan you with and a smaller leaf for me to wear. How's that?"

"And some grapes, of course."

"Of course…"

Oh, Daniel, I love you.

"How is your belly?"

"Oh." Daniel pulled the peas from his cheek and glanced down. "Fine, I think. Didn't feel like anything… seeped in."

Armand felt his stomach flip a little at the prospect. Not a revulsion, but something else. He'd caught sight of their fluids, a drip off the end of a suture that dropped from Daniel and back onto his own skin. He shivered.

"Do you think they'll let me watch them come out at the hospital?"

"They let you watch them go in. I don't see why not."

Armand could feel himself beaming. "Stitches out, then dry cleaners, perhaps find a gift for the housewarming party?”

“Mhm.”

“Then work and apologies to Santiago for picking up my slack…"

"That's the same itinerary I've got," Daniel affirmed, pressing the peas back to his face and taking Armand's sudsy foot with his free hand to rub it. "Packed day."

"And then lovemaking again?" Armand asked, watching Daniel play with his toes, flexing them between his fingers.

"Uhhhhh…." Daniel trailed off into a nervous laugh.

"If you have the stamina, of course," Armand caveated. "You may fuck like a horse, but I don't want to work you like one."

That seemed to tickle him. Daniel doubled over his foot, dropping his peas into the water with a dramatic splash. They sunk through the suds and landed in the basket of Armand's lap, making him jerk out of Daniel's grasp in surprise at the cold.

"Sorry," Daniel wheezed, recovering enough to lean forward and take the bag from him. "Shit… it's all soapy now."

"It's alright, you've probably iced it well enough. The bruise was forming already anyway."

"Thanks again for that, by the way." He shook the bag over the bath in an attempt to throw as much of the suds off as he could.

Armand grinned. "You're very welcome, Daniel."

The bed was so much cozier after a bath and crawling into it together, pulling the sheets up and folding into each other's arms felt like another first of many.

"Sorry in advance if I snore," Daniel said, forehead pressed against Armand's, barely able to see anything but the whites of his eyes in the glow of his alarm clock.

"You do," Armand confirmed. "I've been able to hear you from the living room every night."

"Oh, man… I was worried about that. Ever since I hit thirty…"

"I don't mind it. It lets me know you're sleeping. Much less unsettling than silence."

"Well if you snore, I'll probably throw a pillow over you. So, you've been warned."

He could see just enough to know that Armand was mocking indignation.

"I can't help it. My ex fiancee used to snore louder than me and that's how I'd know she was on the verge of a night fight."

"What is a night fight?"

"Beats me. She'd get all pissed off at me in her sleep and start swinging."

Armand giggled. "You would night fight me?"

"No, but I'd be prepared to defend myself out of habit."

Armand snuggled closer. "I promise not to night fight you, Daniel. Unless you really make me angry in my dreams."

Daniel kissed the top of his head and Armand could feel him breathing his scent deep into his lungs. "And I promise not to cheat on you with your sorority sister in your dreams if I can help it."

"Well, if you can help it. She might be really attractive…"

Armand's voice was half-muffled by Daniel's chest. He felt the heat of his own breath spreading out against it, making the air between them humid.

"I mean, I'll do my best…"

Armand kicked weakly at his shin beneath the covers and Daniel laughed softly into his hair. He was looking forward to many more nights like this.

 

Notes:

Good thing they haven't left any loose ends hanging :)

No but really thanks so much to everyone reading, especially folks leaving comments on chapters as it helps so much to have confirmation that people are still interested in more as we hit 150k on this beast!

Chapter 21: I know all your tricks

Summary:

A night outside the dreamy bubble of Daniel's apartment

Spending his days entirely within the confines of his apartment gave almost everything a hazy pink and teal hue. Dreamy. He'd alternate between reading, napping, and attempting to write in the mornings and afternoons while Armand was out, and then when his lunch hour came, indulging him with kisses and cuddles — sometimes more — on the couch and in the bed. Their bed, Daniel was coming to think of it as. They’d fucked two more times in it already, after a grace period of one night for Daniel’s achingly sore abdomen.

Daniel still hadn't addressed the off-hand comment about Armand checking the cameras during the day, but he would. He just needed some of the happy fog to clear. Never mind the morphine. Now that his pain was mostly manageable with over the counter pills he could take on his own, his excuses were wearing thin.

He would've brought it up at lunch that day, but Armand blew in raving about some overlooked and outstanding fee from the city he swore he'd paid already and it was very clear to Daniel that bringing it up would be like walking through a forest in the dry season while carrying a lit roman candle. Instead, he took Armand's mind off with a pot pie and an episode of Salute! Normanno, Diana, and Samuele did their level best to wave away his worries and Daniel managed the rest by playing with Armand's hair, loosening his curls, finger-brushing them out of place.

"I'm going to be made fun of for coming back with different hair," Armand protested weakly.

Daniel's mind flitted back to the second time they'd fucked — a near repeat of the steps of the first right in the middle of Armand's work day. Armand had achieved his vision of cool control, stripping down with a self-assured smile at Daniel's reaction. He left his sock braces on without prompting and Daniel could swear he'd chosen the nearly knee-high dress socks (Merino wool, he was cleverly informed) just for him, just for this. He ran through an itinerary of exactly what they would do, suggesting how Daniel might be rewarded with the use of his hands should he follow each step to the letter. Of course, Daniel had meant it when he'd told Armand that he didn't need to suspend disbelief to get off on handing over the reins, but goddamn if Armand's fully-realized performance hadn't left him speechless.

He'd wondered if it'd improved the latter half of Armand's day when he returned to the lobby with slightly mussed curls and a raw redness around his mouth. He suspected that it had.

"So what? Santiago will be jealous."

"The last thing I need is for him to get ideas about what I might be doing on my lunch breaks, Daniel."

"Oh, I think you like it."

Armand was silent after that. Another domestic little snapshot they made on this Friday afternoon. The conversation could wait until evening, of course.

It had to.

 

---

 

"You've been pacing since you got in."

"Have I?"

"You have."

Armand hadn't realized. He'd left his office a tad early, telling Santiago he had a social engagement and receiving an impressed but dubious smile in return. Daniel had been surprised to see him. He was still on the couch in his sweats.

Ordinarily, lately, Armand had taken to breezing in for his lunch and extending it a little in service of whatever physical activity they inadvertently ended up getting up to. He made up for this in the evenings, of course. Just that afternoon, their typical canoodling post-lunch had taken a turn beyond the usual touching, kissing, sometimes sucking, and as if moved by some spirit, Armand had spontaneously blurted out his desire — a request to have Daniel list out all the filthy things he'd like to do to him. Somewhere in the middle of that, it'd become quite clear that simple talking and touching wouldn't be enough. Armand broke away, clamoring to the edge of the bed to get into the nightstand for the necessities and Daniel, quick-witted and perfectly in sync with him, seemed to realize immediately that Armand wanted at least some of that list fulfilled then and there. He'd bent his lips to Armand's ear, whispering as if they were on stage and there was some immersion he had to be careful not to break; "Is it going to bother you that you didn't clean out?"

He'd been quite delighted then — awe-struck, even — to discover Armand's carefully kept secret. He already had. He'd been keeping himself prepared, having snuck up the supplies to do so from the basement and storing them under Daniel's sink. His private hour in front of Daniel's vanity each morning before he slipped off to work had been managed just so to give him the time and Armand thought, as he saw Daniel's eyes go lust-drunk and stupid at the very idea, that he could not wait to educate him about the capabilities of a plug. He'd simply need to source one.

After his unexpected early arrival back from the rest of his work day that followed, they'd showered together and Daniel shaved while Armand fixed his hair to his liking and fretted over what he'd wear. After a near meltdown, Daniel sat him down and picked out his clothes for him.

"Are you sure it will be that casual?" Armand had asked.

"It's a college girl's first apartment housewarming and Louis already told us it was gonna be casual. It's going to be casual."

Now, regrettably, they were ready with a good hour and a half to spare.

"I hadn't realized I was pacing," Armand said now, coming to a stop in the center of the bedroom. "I thought I was tidying."

"You've moved the same three objects back and fourth in some strange triangulation that I've been sitting here trying to decode."

Armand was a tad bit confused by that. He certainly hadn't been trying to send any secret telegraphs.

"C'mere."

"I'll rumple my clothes."

"Your jeans and v-neck?"

Reappropriated, of course. He'd raided Daniel's closet and managed to find some old clothes in a box packed with mothballs. He'd ran them through a rinse and spin, tumbled them dry, and they were good as new, but still too ill-fitting on Daniel — he'd thanked his dead Aunt Penny in a tone that tickled Armand to giggles — and almost miraculously, they fit Armand nearly perfectly. He was still getting used to the reflection of himself in blue jeans every time he passed by a mirror. He didn't look cheap, as he'd feared. He looked… a part of things.

He put his palms on the bed, raised his knees one by one, and crawled up to Daniel, slotting himself into the crook of his arm.

"I'm still getting used to them."

"Are you nervous about the party?"

"Hmm…"

He hadn't considered that he was nervous.

"Is it because you don't know Claudia that well? Or is it being around Louis and Lestat? Maybe it's just being in someone else's home while they're aware of it."

Daniel's little sprinklings of disapproval had stung initially, then he'd gotten tolerant of them, even enjoying them some of the time — having someone know him so intimately. Like no one else. But recently, they'd begun to needle a little deeper. Past the dermis, into the meat, threatening to plunge into his bones. Like they were building to something and Armand could guess what, but he couldn't bare to let it get closer than an arm's length.

"I don't know if I'd rather that you just come out with it, Daniel, or if I'd like to keep like this. It's become so comfortable and reassuring, having you."

Daniel's fingers had been stroking the curls resting on his neck, but he halted, hesitating and seeming to consider how he might respond to that. A moment passed in which Armand was certain he hadn't drawn a breath. Then Daniel spoke.

"I guess I owe it to you to be forthcoming, huh," he said.

"You don't owe me anything, Daniel. I owe you everything."

"Yeah, y'see… I gotta admit, I'm getting pretty comfortable here, too. Someone as pretty as you, as focused and devoted… A guy like me can take a sharp turn for the sleazy in the snap of a finger."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

He didn't. He felt the crease form between his brows as he tried to puzzle out Daniel's meaning.

"It's not fair to you if I don't bring it up. I could keep letting it ride, getting my dick wet and watching you lounge around my apartment in next to nothing, but it's all festering under the surface, isn't it?"

Festering? Oh dear…

Armand pulled up so they were sitting at eye level. He braced himself with a palm against Daniel's chest, prompting him to look at him.

Daniel put him at ease with a kiss to the forehead before continuing on. "The cameras, Armand."

Armand sighed. "The cameras. Yes."

"What are we going to do about them?"

It was a little funny. Daniel had implied that he was nervous, Armand had taken an exploratory look inside and found that he agreed — and this change in subject, well… it wasn't going to do anything to help with that. He wondered what Daniel's endgame was here.

"If this is meant to soothe my nerves, Daniel…"

"We gotta talk about it. Productively. Is there going to be any better time? Because we could pencil it in."

And there was Daniel's sarcasm, a surprising balm. He was getting to know when he was in trouble with Daniel. Real trouble, and the bite of his wit helped him to place the needle on the scale. This was medium trouble. The traffic light was yellow. Of course, he'd only seen Daniel on red at the start, at the moment of his discovery, but still Daniel hadn't hurt him, hadn't even threatened to.

"No," Armand answered at last, small and in defeat.

"Alright. So…" Daniel tugged him back into the crook of his arm and swatted his hand when his thumb came up to press its nail hard against his lower lip. "And stop that, I know you're biting yourself."

A little annoyingly, Daniel was coming to know everything. Armand let his hand fall away, soothed the bite inside his lip with the tip of his tongue and flexed his fingers over his leg instead. He attempted to dig his nails into his knee through the thick denim. Perhaps he hated jeans. Perhaps they were stupid and common after all.

"If you're too anxious right now, it can wait."

"And continue to fester?" Armand asked a little more nastily than he'd intended.

Daniel nodded. "Alright. I see your point. I'm sorry for the bad timing, but now that it's out in the air…" He brought his hand to rest over Armand's, to gentle its destructive pinching and digging. "You want some paper to tear up or something? A tissue? Want my hand to gnaw on?"

"You're teasing me."

"You're easy to tease and I'm kind of an asshole. Sorry." He pulled Armand's head in and kissed its crown. "Sorry," he repeated, meaning it.

Armand didn't know where to begin. The cameras, yes, the cameras. What was to be done about the cameras? Was he down there watching them right now? No, he was not. Had he taken the time to watch them at all recently beyond a brief check-in now and then when he could spare a moment? No. He hadn't. He'd been so very good and this was his reward? This line of questioning at the most inopportune moment. If Daniel wanted him to relax and have a good time tonight, he sure was going about it strangely.

"We could be spending this time having fun," Armand said, forcing his fingers lax under Daniel's, letting them spread to give his own room to sink in between them, to capture them and pull them up his thigh.

"Yeah, I know all your tricks, now."

Armand mocked up his offense.

"You actually turned on right now…?"

Daniel asked so dubiously that Armand did take some offense.

"I can be. I always can be. Say the word."

"Would it help you calm down a bit?"

"It may even help you to calm down a bit, Daniel."

He made a bold move, a cat-like pull from Daniel's side, turning his body to straddle Daniel's legs and taking his wrists in hand. He pulled them behind Daniel's back and crossed them there.

"Can you be good and stay?" he asked with some cheek.

He found, however, that Daniel was looking no more interested than he'd sounded only a moment ago.

"I'll stay," he said. "You can go ahead and do what you like. But I want to talk."

Armand wasn't disappointed to hear that. He pressed in close, nuzzling into Daniel's aftershave-fragrant neck and licked. "Mmm… I love when you talk. Will you say something sexy?"

He could feel Daniel's head shake.

"No, I'm gonna talk about the cameras if that's okay. If this is the way we gotta do this."

Armand thought he had a good chance at changing Daniel's mind. He ran his finger up the artery of his neck and felt him shiver, then latched his lips over it and sucked. What a scandal it would be when they showed up to Claudia's apartment and Daniel's neck was covered in bruises to match the one fading on his cheek. What a delight if it earned him some secret comment from Lestat or a smirk from Louis. Titillating fodder to take home and put to use again and again. And the best part-

"You said you'd checked them the other day…"

-was that between Daniel's rocky words, there was this heat and this pleasure. It wrapped his mind up in yards of silk, cushioned it against Daniel's edges. His dick throbbed where it was trapped against him, under the too thick and too tight denim. He held the back of Daniel's head with one hand and snapped open his button with the other while Daniel continued to talk.

"I kept it cool in the moment, but I gotta be honest, I had no idea you were still…"

"Of course I am, Daniel. I…" He drew himself out with a hiss, forehead resting on Daniel's still shoulder. "It's only to keep up with… There are…" He sighed as his fingers circled around and gripped himself at last. His brain was skipping and repeating. The circuit was frying itself. He had to choose pleasure or discomfort and he was so much better suited to pleasure.

"Is it that you worry?" Daniel asked. "You worry something bad might happen when you're looking away?"

"Yes…"

"Because you care about your tenants."

Armand nodded, pulling back to spit down on the action, give himself some slip. He imagined Daniel must've snuck a glance, but he controlled his urge to check with his own eyes before bringing his cheek down against him again, lips to his throat while he pumped himself in earnest between them, feeling better and better and better…

"You know, everyone who lives in this building, they're all capable of leading their own lives and looking out for themselves. You've seen that, right? I mean… that's what you're witnessing when you watch those screens, yeah?"

"Yeah," Armand puffed out against his neck. He was listening. Sort of. He didn't entirely agree, but now was certainly not the best time for him to turn his mind to Those Who Must Be Kept, either.

"I wonder if we should maybe go about this with a plan, if you're willing to hear it."

"Tell me…"

"I'm thinkin'…" Daniel tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against Armand's for one pacifying moment while he seemed to be parsing out how to put it into words. "Can you be accountable? If I made you promise and if I made a promise, too?"

"Mmm… Promise what, Daniel?"

"If I promised not to get angry with you for stumbling," Daniel continued, "and you promised to tell me when you do so we can get back on the horse?" He cleared his throat, suddenly. "The wagon, that is. Heh."

"What is the wagon?"

He drew up and spit again, this time leaning back with a stable palm on Daniel's knee, chin down to watch himself until he could feel the burn of Daniel's eyes pulling his attention up. Yes, Daniel was watching him now with parted lips and a glaze over his eyes. Armand thought that he must look like quite the picture like this; his fly open, his forearm taut, his own expression fogged over with pleasure.

"The, uh…" Daniel swallowed before blinking some of the lust-dull stupidity away. "We'll get you on a schedule and we'll taper you back. You're already doing good, right? Better than it was before."

"M'well," Armand said, eyes down, then up, expertly compartmentalizing his own pleasure for the moment to speak with eloquence and to perform with grace. He'd had that lever installed inside him so long ago and it was nothing, now, to toggle it back and forth, to connect the train with this track or the other. "I haven't watched with erotic interest since your little show. I was watching every night before, letting the odds that someone in this building full of appropriately aged adults would be taking the time to indulge themselves. I'd say that that's a marked improvement."

Daniel drew a breath, closed his eyes and let it go. "Yeah," he said. "And that's good. You've done really good. But that's not… recovered."

"I tell you when I watch the cameras?"

"I'll make a little calendar, you can put X’s on it with the time and duration."

Armand nodded his agreement. It sounded easy enough. Accountability, Daniel was calling it. It felt quite counterintuitive to tell on oneself, in Armand's opinion, but he did not fear Daniel's ire. Still, he did not want to disappoint him. To consider that Daniel's long-term intent was to do away with the cameras completely, of course, was inevitable. Even if it sparked a territorial sort of fear in Armand. He didn't own much in his tiny little life. Hadn't, anyway. And it might not have mattered all that much to him before. For instance; if upon Daniel's initial discovery, he'd rejected Armand outright, well Armand had a plan for that. In a way. An abrupt exit. If the one source of pleasure in his life were to be suddenly stripped from him, then what use was there in continuing on? Unlike some, Armand had no legacy to care about. Now, there was Daniel. There was Louis and Lestat, made real through some sort of transformative magic Daniel seemed to have that made life waking.

"How does that sound?" Daniel reinforced, dipping his head when Armand did, locking their eyes and bringing him back up.

"It sounds good," he agreed, a means to an end. "Can I try to come now?"

Daniel cracked, laughing. "Can you try? You're battin' 100, babe. I've seen you do it in amounts that I never thought possible of a man our age."

Armand supposed he did feel the urge often. Was it too often, though? Was it, perhaps, only habitual? He set in on himself with the aid of a bit more spit from Daniel and wondered.

"It was the only thing to do sometimes… most times…"

"Not knockin' it. Do me a favor, first?"

"Yes, Daniel, of course…"

He held himself back, treading pleasure's waters and awaiting Daniel's request.

"Can I have my hands for just a second?"

Armand regarded him carefully before giving a short nod. Yes, Daniel, you have my dispensation…

Daniel only drew out one of his hands, showed it front and back while his fingers waggled in the air, and then he was bending himself towards the nightstand. He plucked four tissues from the dispenser and produced them like a bouquet.

"Here. Try to catch it so I don't have to change shirts."

 

---

 

Just as Daniel had hoped, another last-minute kiss in the elevator and an approving low whistle from Louis when they stepped out of it in the lobby seemed to put Armand more at ease.

“A new shiner, huh?” Louis asked when they came close.

It wasn’t that bad, not really, all cheekbone and no orbital. Daniel touched the still-purple mark reflexively while giving his best ‘ain’t I a scamp’ shrug.

“Doctor’s orders are still not to lift anything over twenty pounds, right?” he started. “So I got the brilliant idea—”

“Danny,” Louis stopped him. “I know how you got the first one.”

“—so, yeah, we got the bed finally, what do you want from me?”

Louis broke into laughter. It didn’t seem like it was cut with the same disgust Daniel had perceived the day he’d explained that the slap from Raven had been entirely pre-robbery. Louis just seemed amused, at both of them. He kept smiling as he shook his head, turning and leading the way to where Lestat was waiting in his car for them outside The Palazzo doors.

Armand shot Daniel a look on their way out. He seemed caught between obvious excitement about the acknowledgment and uncertainty about whether that was appropriate. Daniel kept a supportive hand on his knee in the back seat of Lestat’s sedan for the short drive over to Claudia’s apartment. He gave it a squeeze, too, when he could feel them both become a little anxious about the small cactus plant Armand was holding on his lap the more that Louis went on about the cookware he’d selected for the occasion.

“Of course this is all beside the fact that Claudia has never shown the slightest interest in lifting a kitchen utensil,” Lestat teased gently.

“Being single and hungry in your twenties is how you learn,” Louis argued. “Daniel, I bet you can make a little bachelor chow.”

“I’ve got a couple passable casseroles, yeah,” Daniel agreed.

“Now, if your place of work provides you with all the salad and cigarettes you need to sustain yourself, you might miss out.”

“C'est ridicule. Le physique d'un danseur nécessite—”

“Jesus, is the street parking always this bad?”

“Fortunately there is the bus stop around the corner. This too will build character,” Lestat said, nodding to himself as he effortlessly maneuvered into a tight spot between cars.

Daniel had come to learn that Lestat’s day-to-day contained many strange little surprises that seemed incongruous with his personality, and this was one of them. In a just world, a man like Lestat de Lioncourt would not be serenely calm as he parallel parked in Friday night traffic.

As Louis and Lestat gathered up boxes of pots and pans from the trunk of Lestat's car, Armand caught Daniel’s eye and held the cactus up in front of his chest.

“We also brought wine,” Daniel whispered. “And we’re not her dad-uncles.”

Armand rolled his eyes, worrying his bottom lip again until the four of them headed up the stairs towards what Daniel considered to be an admirably reasonable volume of synth and drum escaping the apartment where they knocked.

“SOMEONE GET IT,” Claudia hollered inside.

It was silly, Daniel knew, the way his heart soared at the noise. All things considered, he’d only really spent a handful of morning smokes with the kid, but she sure had charmed the hell out of him in that time.

The door swung open and the four found themselves face-to-face with Madeleine.

Shit, that's right.

Claudia had told him. He hadn’t forgotten, exactly, even as doped up as he’d been at the time. He just hadn’t ever really slotted the fact into place in his mind. Why was that?

The back-and-forth of French between everyone in the vicinity of the doorway except Daniel sounded as friendly to his ears as French could, he supposed.

“As-tu apporté suffisamment de cartons?”

“S'il avait eu gain de cause, nous serions en train de monter un canapé dans les escaliers.”

“Quel plaisir de te voir, Madeleine.”

“Louis, tu as bonne mine. Et Armand! Quelle surprise! Vous êtes venu avec Daniel?’”

“Oui. C'est vrai.”

“Can y’all come in here and close the damn door?” Claudia called. “Maybe spare a thought for the folks who need subtitles, too.”

Daniel took in the apartment as they entered. It was on the ‘cozy’ side. Claudia’s handful of guests overflowed from a small couch out onto floor pillows gathered around a coffee table. He could see why Claudia would find it acceptably chic, though. There was obviously a history to the building and it showed in the look of the walls and windows.

Claudia, to Daniel’s surprise, was in fact stationed in the small kitchen. She had a variety of liquor bottles and mixers crowding her counters and was making quite a show of her expertise with a martini shaker.

“Alright everyone, these are the uncles I told you about,” she announced, nodding her head towards Louis and Lestat. “And their neighbor and landlord for some reason,” she added with a wink to Daniel.

“Building manager,” Armand amended softly amidst the weak echoes of ‘hello’ from the party.

“Brought a few things,” Louis said, hovering in limbo as he searched for any kind of uncluttered surface.

“Oh, God, put ‘em on the bed with the coats I guess.”

“There is a cactus,” Madeleine informed her, loud and flat.

“Cute!” Claudia garnished her creation with an olive and passed it to Madeleine as she took the pot from Armand’s hands. “Got a spot for this right here by the window.”

Daniel watched in a bit of awe as Madeleine took up what looked like a coveted spot in the living room’s arm chair and slid right back into comfortable conversation with Claudia’s peers. Seeing her with her hair down in a striped sleeveless dress was almost as surreal as having Armand next to him squeezed into a pair of jeans.

Then Daniel was forced to recall that he had seen Madeleine with her hair down before, had seen a hell of a lot more than just that.

'After Louis and Lestat, she was my favorite.'

He watched, dumbstruck, as she casually patted Claudia’s backside when she passed by. On instinct, he looked for Louis’ reaction, but Louis and Lestat were just then returning from dropping gifts in Claudia’s bedroom. Daniel’s eyes fell next on Armand, who was clearly waiting for some kind of direction.

"Shall we grab a seat on the floor?" Armand asked.

Daniel felt himself nod.

'It relaxes me to watch her.'

Daniel felt sluggish as he criss-crossed his legs to make a spot for himself at the corner of the coffee table. Armand sat close to him, legs tucked politely under his knees.

'I rarely avert my eyes.'

“Shit, sorry, are you…?”

“Daniel Molloy, right?”

“Huh?”

“The Devil’s Minion.”

“He is,” Armand confirmed, breaking through the voices Daniel wasn’t bothering to distinguish.

“Claudia, what the fuck? You didn’t say anything.”

“I don't know who reads his dumb book,” Claudia dismissed them with a laugh.

A lot of girls in their twenties, oddly enough, Daniel thought as the words around him flowed in and out. He clocked that he was talking to two right now, one with a short brown bob and enormous plastic eyeglass frames and another with long black hair parted neatly in the middle. One was Jeannie and the other was Esther and he would never know which. He mostly responded in in nods and ‘hmms’ as they excitedly leaned in over the coffee table to ask questions.

“Is Antonio really the oldest living vampire?”

“Does Christian have any family looking for him? How does he explain disappearing for months and years?”

“Antonio says vampires don’t have sex, does that mean he can’t do it or that he won’t do it?”

“Well, the relationship is deeper than that.”

Oh good, they can just answer each other.

“Is it deeper than that for Christian?”

Or argue with each other.

“I would argue that Christian feels that their union is incomplete without the intimacy of sex.”

Jesus Christ, Armand.

“Well, no offense, but of course a man would think that.”

“Christian is a man, is he not?”

“Yes, but Antonio chooses him because he is exceptional.”

“Mmm.”

“What?”

“Come on.”

“I would also disagree strongly.”

“You want one of these?”

Daniel looked up and saw Claudia backlit by her ceiling lamp, bent over him with a martini in hand. He nodded. She passed the drink to him with a furrowed brow but seemed to quickly wave off his unexplained stupor.

Thank God I never saw you on the monitors.

Armand nudged his arm.

But he did. He must have.

“Hm?”

“Antonio’s victims,” Jeannie-or-Esther repeated, apparently. “Christian refuses to pick them out for him, but he still talks to them. He sleeps with some of them. Does he know he’s helping Antonio hunt?”

“Maybe. Yeah,” Daniel waffled, caught off guard. “He’s gotta know on some level, right?”

Jeannie-or-Esther stared back at him.

"Bathroom?" he asked, eyes turning to Claudia.

"Oh! Down the hall, on the left."

Daniel closed the door and sat himself on the lid of a blush-pink toilet. It matched the sink and the built-in tub and he felt horribly out of place on it. Because he was out of place. Because it was a college girl’s first apartment and he was the motherfucker who gave her free cigarettes and brought a guy who was peeping on her to the party as his date.

How had he not factored Claudia in? How had he not connected this thread? He’d let himself get so damn entangled from day one of discovering Armand’s habit that he wasn’t bothering to ask the most basic questions.

Was it possible Armand hadn’t watched Claudia on the monitors? He clearly liked to collect tenants who were closer to his age, but it wasn’t like Claudia was a child. It was just… Well, it was like she was Louis and Lestat’s child. At least spiritually, to Lestat, and from what Daniel had observed of Louis he had to feel the same.

Incidentally, he did have to piss. Gathering enough strength to get to his feet without risking the anxious spiral making his hands shake too much to aim, he lifted the lid and seat and relieved himself.

While he washed his hands, he heard a voice rising above the running water. He turned it off, dried his hands and listened.

Louis. And he sounds angry…

“And I’m supposed to act like it’s just fine?”

Daniel moved cautiously down the hall towards the kitchen where the voices were raging on. He diminished himself the best he could, letting his eyes scan nervously over to the rest of those in attendance, sat or otherwise scattered about the living room past the built-in partition. All were silent, occupying themselves with their hands or drinks, some openly staring with gaping mouths at the scene that was playing out across the room between Claudia, Madeleine, and Louis.

Shit.

“Not payin’ for you to have a love nest with a woman twice your age,” Louis said. Out loud. In front of everyone Claudia knew in town.

Shiiit.

Madeleine cackled at it.

“Deux fois l'âge? Va te faire foutre, idiot.”

Claudia and Louis were locked into each other already, though. Unflinching.

“Don’t need you to pay for anything if it means you’re gonna act like you own me.”

“Didn’t say anything like that.”

Daniel managed to swing himself around the partition and join Armand again where he'd thankfully sunk himself into the shadows near the bookcase, eyes wide and fingers fiddling. Daniel took his anxious hand.

His dolls are fighting, the voice in his head reminded him.

He might've let go of that clammy hand, then, but Armand gripped tight like a plea not to be left. Daniel wanted to run.

“Right. Of course. You only want what’s best for me, Daddy Lou.”

“Perhaps we should all take a break?” Lestat suggested, approaching Louis with gentle raised hands.

Neither the players in the spotlight nor the audience took any interest in his suggestion. The shots fired on.

“I’m just thinking you might need to consider the dorms.”

“He’s just thinking.”

“This isn’t undergrad anymore. It’s not the time to fuck around.”

“She is twenty two years old,” Madeleine said, with a bright angry smile that mirrored Claudia’s almost perfectly. “When else does one fuck around?”

“She has a point, mon cher,” Lestat pleaded. “Our Claudia is an adult.”

That finally drew Louis’ attention away.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Gonna throw your hat in like you’re father of the goddamn year, too?” Claudia scoffed, eyes wide on Lestat.

“Claudia, I am on your side.”

“I don’t want you on my side! I just wanted you two to come here and say my apartment looks nice! That my girlfriend treats me good! Tell me that you’re happy for me instead of how you’re gonna fix me!”

Louis was steeping in his anger, his jaw tense and his nostrils flaring. Lestat put a gentle hand to his shoulder, but he was flung away in an instant.

"C'mon. Get your things, we're leaving."

Armand tugged at Daniel's arm for his attention. He hadn't realized when he'd come to grip it with his other hand like a shy child. Daniel turned to him.

"Does that mean us?" Armand asked.

Shit.

"Guess so. They're our ride."

This is going to be awkward…

The party began murmuring back to life, uncomfortable and quiet to start and then growing louder. Daniel was grateful for the cover as he dragged Armand through to the kitchen where Claudia was huddled in against Madeleine's arms, speaking low and angry.

He didn't know why he did it and he certainly hadn't known he would, but as they brushed past, Daniel placed a hand on her arm, grabbing the attention of both her and Madeleine.

"Hey, sorry we gotta-"

Claudia stepped back from Madeleine's embrace and palmed the streaks from her round cheeks, sniffing it all back and forcing a smile. "Yeah, of course," she said. "Not your fault."

"Your new apartment is very nice," Armand spoke from behind him, making him stiffen a little.

"Thanks," Claudia said with a nod.

While rubbing the warm sentiment that Daniel would remain a pal if she'd like into her arm, he returned her nod and let her go, tugging Armand along towards the door.

 

---

 

The car ride had been uncomfortably silent. Of course it had. At one point, Lestat reached for the radio dial to fill it, but Louis knocked his hand away. Daniel couldn't help feeling a little sorry for Lestat. It made him wish he could take some of the heat off, but the only thing he could think of that might accomplish that would've made matters 100 times worse.

"They're fighting again," Armand said with an air of defeat in his voice as they shut themselves into the apartment.

"Yeah, well…"

Daniel was getting out of his shoes, a numb sort of antipathy having settled over him throughout the course of the evening. Seeing Louis erupt had only spurred it on more. Now, he was steeped in it.

"I hope it isn't for too long this time."

"Not really for you to determine, is it?"

It'd come out acrid and Daniel regretted speaking before giving himself a moment to calculate. He lined his sneakers by the wall and turned to see Armand's dark eyes staring sadly at him in the half-dark.

"Are we going to fight, now, too?" Armand asked. "Have I done something?"

This was Daniel's fault. He'd let it slide, unexamined. He'd actively pushed the true horrors of it away at every pass. 'I'll deal with it later, I'll turn it over a bit more when I'm healed'…

Well, he was healed enough now, wasn't he? And he couldn't keep playing stupid now that reality had crashed the party.

"Did you know about Claudia and Madeleine?"

Armand looked at him quizzically. "Well, you seemed to know about them."

"That's not what I asked. I knew already because Claudia told me, in confidence. I'm asking if you knew."

Of course, the question was a trojan horse carrying a much more nefarious question inside — one that Daniel couldn't bear to ask out loud. Not now. Not when his tongue seemed only to want to spit fire.

Armand's feet drew close, side by side. His shoulders drooped and he clasped his hands in front of him, the picture of practiced contrition.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Daniel's heart sank despite already knowing as much.

"You saw them."

"Together. Yes, Daniel."

His hand shot up, a revulsion rising in his gorge. He found he couldn't look Armand's way without imagining it; Armand in front of those stacked monitors, consuming the lives of everyone he'd managed to catch in his web.

"I've gotta get ready for bed," he heard himself say. Just like that, his feet were carrying him down the hall.

"Daniel, please-"

Armand followed behind, keeping a safe distance, but remaining in earshot. "You must've known this already on some level. It wasn't planned for, it was-"

"Have you watched them since? Did you turn the monitor off the first time or did you keep on watching?"

He hadn't meant to keep engaging with it. It'd been his intention to put a cork in it for the night and tackle it in the morning with a level head, but the cork had popped, it seemed, and now Armand was staring at him where they stood in the bedroom, looking like a kicked puppy, so audaciously betrayed.

"I only ever saw them the one time," he said, voice low and trembling. "Maybe twice."

Maybe twice?

"But did you watch…"

"Yes."

It hissed out of him, and for a second, Daniel saw the contrite facade crack.

He felt like he could be sick. He went into the bathroom, shocked when Armand continued behind him, closing the door after and pressing himself flat against it.

"You won't go silent on me, Daniel. If you're angry, if you're upset, and silence will only risk leavening it, then we must have this out."

Daniel saw the pair of them reflected back in the mirror. Armand looked like a creature the way he was sprawled against the door. He loomed large, spreading like ink behind Daniel.

Instinct had him wheeling to face him again, not feeling safe to leave his back exposed. "Another ball that's not in your court," he said, conviction ebbing out of him with every flare of Armand's nostrils.

"You must make up your mind, Daniel Molloy. Do you want to have your soft ambushes, your productive tête à têtes at the expense of my peace of mind, on the very edge of the hour of what you know to be a big effort and ordeal for me, or do you want to wear your disgust plainly and put me out in the doghouse like your good friend Louis is wont to do when his disobeys?"

Daniel was unmoored by the avalanche tumbling his way. "I only wanted to get ready for bed," he said. "I wasn't icing you out."

"I don't appreciate being swept into the corner the moment I become unmanageable for you."

"Who said anything about-"

"I can see your disgust, Daniel. I can't go back and fix what's already done."

"It's not-"

But it was.

"It's just… Well, you heard them! Claudia's basically a daughter to them."

Armand scoffed, his eyes rolling to the ceiling and his arms crossing over his chest. Daniel could hardly believe it.

"You really don't see the problem here," he muttered — to himself, mostly, but of course Armand heard him.

"She's no different from Madeleine, herself. From you, Louis, or Lestat. She's an adult, Daniel. As evidenced by her actions."

"Listen to yourself! I just said that's their daughter…"

"In sentiment, if you insist upon it. You're acting as though this sin falls outside the umbrella of the ones you've forgiven me."

"Let's be clear there; these aren't sins I've forgiven. They're criminal invasions of privacy that we agreed, just this evening, that you'd curb. You claim to love Louis and Lestat-"

"Careful…"

"How can you not see how spying on their daughter is worse than spying on them? They're our friends, Armand. It was hard enough sitting on what I already knew."

"It shouldn't have been some big revelation. Perhaps your journalistic instincts have grown dull. And again, she's an adult. She's not their young daughter. She's simply Louis' co-ed cousin."

Daniel was in disbelief over the dissonance on display.

"Armand, you were adopted. How is it any different?"

Armand's jaw tensed, his eyes darting from Daniel, narrowing on some fixed point in the room like he was so angry he required grounding. Daniel found it frightening and concerning all at once.

"What?" he emboldened himself to ask. "You said you wanted to have it out, so we're having it out."

"We're having it out over old news," Armand spat. His eyes returned to Daniel, his chest rising and falling as though he were carefully metering out each breath. "Nothing revelatory came from tonight outside of you opening your eyes. You'd accepted this once already, Daniel. How is this fair? To make me answer to you again and again for the things you've willfully overlooked? Is your affection suddenly conditional? Have I missed some fine print?"

Jesus Christ, that was rich. Daniel could've laughed if the prospect of what that might bring about didn't scare the humor right out of him.

"That silence again…"

"I don't know what you want me to say, Armand! I don't think I've got anything to apologize for!"

"And so you must expect one from me…"

"I didn't say that, either."

Armand closed his eyes and exhaled long and slow. Then he dropped his arms to his sides and lifted his chin pridefully.

"Perhaps it's best if I sleep in my own bed tonight," he said. "You're right. Nothing productive can come about while we're both this angry."

"I'm not angry, Armand," Daniel said, finding that he really wasn't. "And I don't want you sleeping down there."

"Why is that? So that you can keep me under your thumb? Under your watchful eye?"

Was every fight going to be like this? Daniel dreaded it if that were the case.

"So I can hold you," he countered, at least a little truthfully.

"So thumb it is."

Daniel heaved a sigh. "I'm not trying to win this fight, I'm just tired. I'm not giving up on you if that's what you're worried about. I still think the calendar system we talked about could be a good way to-"

"Manage me."

"Manage the problem." He forced himself to turn away, to bend over the sink and turn on the faucet. He splashed water on his face and felt Armand's hot stare against his back. "Alright?" he asked after a few more splashes before grabbing his toothbrush.

"Like I'm a child you've grown fed up with."

What?

"No…"

"You want to parent me, you want to fuck me. Another man who confuses the two."

Daniel's hand froze where he'd been squeezing toothpaste onto his brush. The words settled over him like a death shroud. He forced himself on, not to raise the alarm, not to let on how they had chilled him. When he checked the mirror again, Armand was gone.