Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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 Text

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…

Chapter Text

"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…"

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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?"

Chapter Text

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.

Chapter Text

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."

Chapter Text

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 Text

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 Text

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…"