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?"