Chapter Text
Louis was disoriented. The man he thought vehemently hated him was currently attempting to broker some sort of peace treaty between the two of them. Louis reasoned that he should be grateful for this new development– Having Lestat as a networking connection was no doubt better than having him as an enemy that worked at the Talamasca Gallery, of all places. Louis could not afford such an adversary in the New York City art scene. And he would be lying if he said he had not lost sleep during the trial in France over ten years ago, and maybe he viewed this as his own form of penance. Not that Louis blamed himself for Lestat’s incarceration. He did not. Lestat had dug his own grave there.
Louis had been so in his head ever since his weird run-in with Lestat at the auction house that he could barely focus. After obsessing over the way Lestat had gripped his wrist on the sidewalk for a full hour at work, Louis looked up from his desk to find Madeleine gone from hers and laughing along with Claudia at the printer.
“Claudia!” Louis yelled, sticking his head out from his office. “Could I speak to you for a moment?”
Claudia looked incredibly irritated, but walked over to Louis’ office anyway. “What?”
“Don’t say ‘what’ like that, young lady,” Louis reprimanded, which made Claudia laugh out loud.
“Young lady?” Claudia repeated. “You’re thirty-five and my brother, Lou. Start acting like it.”
“Close the door and sit down,” Louis demanded, feeling annoyed. “I have to ask you an uncomfortable question.”
Claudia made a disgusted face but obeyed the request. “Okay.”
Louis took a deep breath. “Claudia, are you and Madeleine… a couple?”
Claudia groaned. “Ugh! Ew, Louis! Don’t ask that!”
Louis held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. You two seem very close. I wasn’t sure if it was more than a friendship or not. Madeleine’s quite a flirt, so she’s hard to read.”
Claudia’s face fell slightly. And there was Louis’ answer.
“She is?” Claudia asked, sounding much more quiet than before.
Louis knew it was wrong to crush his sister’s spirit, but he also remembered the hordes of men and women who had come to the gallery to pick Madeleine up for a date after work– never the same person twice. “I just… want you to be careful. Office romances are rarely a good thing, Claudia.” Louis could rest easy knowing that advice was actually quite sound. He had seen many an awkward interaction between employees who slept together– mostly Armand and Daniel when they were in the “off” stage of their on-again-off-again relationship.
“We’re not a couple,” Claudia stated. “And stop worrying about me. I’m an adult. I can handle someone flirting with me.”
“So… you’re into women, then?” Louis pressed.
Claudia rolled her eyes and stood up from her chair. “Goodbye.”
Louis looked down to his phone to see a text from Lestat. His stomach immediately dropped. He supposed that Lestat had asked for his number for a reason, but Louis had wondered if perhaps the man’s momentary lapse of sanity outside on the sidewalk had been a result of alcohol or drugs… or even a mental breakdown. There was simply no way that Lestat was actually interested in Louis' opinion on any matter.
He opened the text message.
Could you stop by Talamasca after work today? I need you to take a look at something.
Louis let out the breath he had been holding. “Something.” Of course Lestat was choosing to be vague as hell.
After a two-hour-long debate in his head, Louis texted back: You’ll have to be more specific for me to make my way up to the Upper East Side.
Lestat’s answer came immediately: Don’t be annoying.
Funny, coming from you.
It’s a sculpture from this pretentious Italian artist David knows. I need you to help me stage it in the showroom so no one notices how ugly it is.
Louis wanted to block Lestat’s number. The man was basically asking Louis to do his job.
You don’t know how to stage a sculpture?
Just come by. I’ll make it worth your while.
Louis paused. He wondered if Lestat was aware of how flirty he sounded. Lestat asking him if he “liked to watch” had played over and over in his head for days now. And now this. Louis was well aware that he was the last person on earth Lestat would ever flirt with, so he pushed past it. He could only hope that Lestat had truly grown up and his behavior now was due to a realization of the error of his ways. And, selfishly, he hoped that Lestat really was willing to connect him to artists in Europe in exchange for Louis’ help now. It was something that he was annoyed to admit would be useful down the line.
Fine.
Louis arrived at the Talamasca Gallery after hours and watched Lestat from the window as he tried to carefully figure out a place for the sculpture that was giving him such a headache. Louis raised his hand to knock on the glass door, before pausing to take in the other man’s appearance. Lestat looked… different. More at peace. True, the last time he saw Lestat was when he was desperately claiming his innocence while on trial, but Louis had a feeling that was not the reason for this change. Lestat had grown up. And it was not just because he had managed to bulk up slightly in jail. He looked right in his cool, relaxed, navy suit while he stood in his new gallery. Louis was unsure why Lestat needed his help at all. If he had managed to rehabilitate his image well enough to get a job as head curator, even after a stint in jail, then he could definitely play around with some stupid sculpture all by himself. Louis broke away from his thoughts to see Lestat smirking at him from inside the gallery. He motioned for Louis to come in.
“Enjoying the view?” Lestat asked as Louis opened the door.
“Watching you struggle is always entertaining,” Louis bit back, embarrassed that he had been caught staring at Lestat. Louis wore his icy exterior as a badge, but when it came to Lestat, that cold defensiveness turned almost aggressive. Probably due to the fact that Lestat had once promised Louis that he was going to ruin his life once he got out of jail.
Lestat had never done that, though. He had fixed his own life instead. And now, here Lestat was, standing in front of the man who testified against him, asking him for help.
To say Louis was perplexed about the whole situation, was an understatement.
Lestat nodded his head towards the sculpture. “Come over here,” he practically purred.
Louis swallowed and walked forward. “Look, Lestat, this is… too weird. You should just ask David. I don’t think you need my help at all–”
“Hush, Louis,” Lestat demanded.
Brat.
“Let me show you the options,” Lestat continued, picking up the sculpture and dragging it around the gallery.
“Careful,” Louis breathed, not wanting to care about the sculpture, which was ugly and was part of Lestat’s collection, but being unable to shut off the part of his head that told him “all art is important.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Louis,” Lestat dismissed. “If this one crashes to the ground, I doubt many would miss it.” He placed the sculpture in the left corner of the room. It was a bright red piece that looked like a cartoonish drop of blood that stuck out so badly with the rest of the art on display Louis was about to suggest Lestat send it back to Italy. “How about here?”
“It’s never going to look good in here, Lestat,” Louis said, unable to be anything but truthful. “I know you want to modernize Talamasca, but maybe you need to try a piece from the eighteen-hundreds first before you take a chance on, what I can only assume, is a child’s art project you found in the trash?”
Lestat stared at Louis before barking out a laugh. It almost made Louis recoil. Lestat had never laughed in his presence. Snide remarks, yes. But actual laughter? Louis had never witnessed it.
“You’re funny,” Lestat stated, sounding surprised. “I didn’t know you were funny.”
The weirdest part was that Lestat seemed genuine as he said it.
“It wasn’t a joke,” Louis told him. “The piece is never going to be cohesive with the rest of the gallery.” He took a look around the palatial room, discouraged by every inch of the space until his eyes landed on a corner that featured a Rubens painting. “Hang on.”
Louis pulled out a pair of gloves he always kept in his briefcase, putting them on as he walked over to Lestat and delicately took hold of the sculpture. It was a testament to how much Lestat had changed over the years that he let Louis handle the piece of art, no matter how silly he found it to be. Louis carefully moved the sculpture next to the Rubens– the shades of red in the painting brilliantly contrasting with the drop of blood in a way that was pleasing to the eye. “There. Switch to a gold pedestal– no, dark wood. And bring that Tiffany lamp from the front back here to place next to it. I think that could work.”
Lestat let out an annoyed breath. “Well. You’re quite good at this.”
Louis lifted his chin and handed the sculpture back to Lestat. “I am. But I suspect you had just been looking at the space for too long. Sometimes the most obvious answer is right in front of us, begging to be chased–” Louis paused. He was unsure why he was suddenly being so nice to Lestat. He immediately changed his demeanor, ripping off the gloves and pulling the lapels of his suit jacket straight. He never wore suits, but it had seemed necessary to throw on a jacket once Lestat called. “Is that all? Can I go now?”
Lestat observed him with a strange expression before giving into a relaxing laugh. “Louis. You just got here. Let me take you out to dinner for your help at least.”
Louis almost burst out into laughter himself. He had no fucking idea what Lestat was trying to do here. “I’d rather not–”
“Louis!”
“What?” Louis asked, annoyed. “You called me up here because you’re not clever enough to pair two reds together and now you’re asking me to go to dinner with you? What is this?”
Lestat pretended to look dumb. “What is what?”
“Why are you being… nice to me?” Louis wondered, hating how much his voice wavered. Most people were barely affable to him most days due to his abrasive personality– Lestat paying him any sort of kindness was something so out of the blue, Louis figured there must have been a hidden television crew in the corner of the store and a host waiting to burst out and tell them that they were on candid camera.
Lestat, to his credit, looked slightly guilty at this. “I recognize my behavior towards you must seem odd, but I–”
“You hate me,” Louis reminded him. “You may want to use me to… do your job, or connect you with the best dealers in the city, but there’s no way in hell you want to go to dinner with me. Let’s just spare ourselves the discomfort, shall we?” Louis walked back to the door and opened it to leave. “I’ll see you around, Lestat,” he said, exiting before the other man had any chance to protest.
For some reason, Louis found himself opening the dating apps that weekend. He usually did whenever he was stressed with a problem at work. And though Lestat was far away, curating his own gallery on the Upper East Side, Louis did consider the man to be a problem at work.
As Louis was swiping through a sea of men, he almost dropped his phone when he came across Lestat’s profile. Louis supposed he was not surprised to find the other man there– Lestat had very casually joked about fucking men in jail, but Louis also remembered the manic blonde who hung on Lestat’s every word in court, crying any time he was cross-examined. Louis had assumed that woman had been Lestat’s girlfriend. He carefully scrolled Lestat’s profile and got the answer he was looking for under the “sexuality” section: Bisexual.
That explained it.
A small part of Louis wondered if Lestat actually had been flirting with him on the street only a week prior. He pushed away the thought.
No matter what Lestat’s sexuality was, that interaction continued to make no sense. Despite what he claimed now, Lestat had once made it clear to Louis that the two of them would be nothing but enemies for the rest of their lives. And rightly so. There was no need for them to be anything else.
Louis closed the app and rolled off his couch, getting changed to go out to a bar in his neighborhood. Louis was not necessarily… skilled at chatting people up in a bar, but he was attractive enough to get a man to hit on him. As long as Louis could act complimentary enough, he was certain he could get fucked that night and hopefully get rid of the weird tension he had been feeling ever since David had reintroduced him to Lestat.
After Louis arrived at the bar and sat down with his drink, he pulled out his phone and immediately checked Claudia’s Instagram. He quickly cycled through her posts when a hint of red hair caught his eye in one of her pictures. Louis paused and practically shoved his phone in his face to get a closer look. The hair looked long and curly. A lot like–
“Well, well, well,” a voice said from behind Louis’ shoulder. He dropped his phone at the sound of Lestat’s low timbre. “What do we have here? Louis DuLac, out on a Saturday night in Brooklyn, all by himself?”
Louis narrowed his eyes as Lestat sat down next to him without invitation. “Did you chip me, or something? How did you know I was here?”
Lestat laughed again– Louis supposed he would have to get used to that– before ordering himself a water, of all things, and shrugging. “I’m meeting a date. I didn’t know you would be here as well.”
Louis bit his lip so as to not slip and tell Lestat that he had just seen his picture on a dating app. “Okay. Well, you should probably sit elsewhere.”
“Why?” Lestat wondered.
“Do you really want your date to see the two of us talking?” Louis asked. “They might get jealous.”
Lestat smirked. “Oh, I don’t date people that insecure, Louis. Don’t worry.”
Louis wanted to strangle him.
“So, tell me,” Lestat continued. “Are you also waiting for a date?"
“Not exactly,” Louis mumbled, trying to sip his drink as fast as possible so he could leave and go home to jerk off. He could try to find a hookup next week instead.
“Looking to… pick someone up?” Lestat questioned, as if he could read Louis’ mind.
“I don’t do that,” Louis lied.
“Why not?” Lestat asked. “Handsome, single man like you–”
“Enough, Lestat,” Louis interrupted. “I told you. I’m not doing this with you. Whatever this is. I can only assume you got some sort of lobotomy in the past couple of weeks with how desperate you are to get to know me.”
Lestat smiled into his drink, his blonde hair falling forward to frame his annoyingly perfect jawline. He looked like he belonged in one of those old Sun In commercials from back in the day. “Can’t a man change his mind?” Lestat proposed.
“Sure,” Louis admitted. “Not you, though. I still remember what you said to me.”
Lestat’s face fell. He seemed to contemplate his next words wisely. “I was young, and–”
“I don’t need an apology,” Louis said. “I’m just not falling for this new nice guy act. You must need something big from me. I just haven’t figured out what it is yet. I’m not sure I want to figure it out.”
“And you?” Lestat wondered. “Why bother with me?”
Louis did not have an answer. “Maybe I believe in karma.”
“So you do think you’re responsible for–”
“I didn’t say that,” Louis interrupted.
Lestat drummed his fingers on the bar counter. “What can I do to make you believe I’m different now? How about I help you out here? Out of the goodness of my heart. I do owe you for the other day. Shall I be your wingman?” he suggested. “Pick someone here, and I can get them to leave with you in twenty minutes flat… I’m positive you’re not one for small talk.”
“I’m not here to–”
“Louis,” Lestat interjected. “I’m not going to judge you for going out to try to get fucked. I’m doing something quite similar myself.”
Louis felt the corner of his mouth almost rise into a smile, but he stopped it before giving Lestat any sort of pride in knowing he was anything but despicable to him. “Fine. Find me someone.” He was desperate to end this conversation and get out of the bar as quickly as he could.
Lestat’s eyes widened, as if he was shocked Louis took the bait. He straightened up in his chair and discreetly looked around. “What’s your type?”
“I don’t have a type,” Louis responded. It was not necessarily a lie. In opposition to how he lived most of his life, Louis could never really afford to be choosy on nights like these. “Attractive, male, thirties. That’ll do.” He took a long sip of his drink and looked around the bar as well, seeing if anyone in particular caught his eye.
Lestat scoffed. “Well, that could be anyone based on that description… That could be… me.”
Louis almost choked on his drink. He glanced over at Lestat, whose face weirdly remained impassive as he raised an eyebrow, as if he was waiting for Louis to challenge the statement. “I’m not into blondes,” he finally retorted.
Lestat said nothing as he continued to look for someone for Louis to take home, his eyes finally landing on a brunette in the back of the bar. He did not even wait to ask Louis for his opinion before walking over to the man and talking to him. Louis suddenly felt his whole body grow hot. He never got nervous when it came to hookups, but something about Lestat brokering “the deal” made him sweat. Before Louis could even process what was happening, Lestat was walking back over to him with a smile on his face.
“You’re welcome,” Lestat said.
“What did you say to him?” Louis wondered as he glanced over at the man who was looking him up and down from across the bar.
Lestat waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about that.”
“Lestat.”
“Fine,” Lestat relented. “I told him you were a freak in bed… As I said, you’re welcome.”
Louis could not help the small chuckle that escaped his mouth. Lestat tilted his head, as if he was fascinated by the action. “And what? You just assume I’m a freak in bed?”
“Does it matter?” Lestat asked. “He’s coming over to talk to you. Take him home. You deserve it. You look tense, Louis.”
Louis immediately stopped smiling as Lestat squeezed his shoulder and winked at him before walking over to the other side of the bar, sitting down to wait for his date.
You look tense.
Louis hated himself for letting his guard down for one second around Lestat. He was just as terrible as Louis remembered him to be. As the nameless brunette walked over and introduced himself, Louis’ gaze wandered to Lestat over and over again for the next half an hour while he somehow convinced the man to come home with him. Lestat indulged him, locking eyes while he flirted with his own date.
And when Louis went back to his apartment and fucked the brunette man whose name he had already forgotten, he was horrified to find that the look in Lestat’s eyes from across the bar remained burned into the back of his memory.