Chapter Text
“Hmm… Daniel… nnno… that’s a Stein…”
Daniel looks over to the other end of the couch when he hears the string of nonsense words and noises. Armand must have fallen asleep. He’s just slumped over against the backrest, iPad flopped screen-down on his stomach, Daniel’s old Ramones shirt slipping off his shoulder, one kitten fang half-out… It’s a rare sight and so fucking adorable Daniel might not get used to it even if he lives a thousand more years.
They still have a few hours until dawn but it makes sense that Armand would be wiped already. Daniel woke him early today, always eager to extend their sun-exposure window. He’s been having meetings in all sorts of weird timezones. And the sheer amount of times he’s managed to tell Daniel to fuck off over the past week… The mental effort of that alone has got to be a considerable drain on his system.
Fortunately, there is only one more item left on Daniel’s list of things he wants to try.
“Hey, love,” he says quietly, scooting closer to Armand and rubbing a hand over his upper arm. There’s no good way to wake him up without startling him but his flinch is just a small, tired thing this time.
“Yes, Daniel?” Armand says, with the voice of someone pretending they were totally awake all along.
“You seem real sleepy there. Wanna go to bed early, maybe?”
Armand looks at the glass staircase leading up to their bedroom, then back at Daniel, then sighs deeply like he’d rather sleep in the swamp than drag himself up there right now. Which is kinda perfect, actually. Daniel gets off the couch and holds out his hands.
“I’ll just carry you upstairs, c’mon.”
He ducks a bit as soon as he’s said it, fully expecting the iPad to come hurtling towards his face. Because Armand, as a rule, doesn’t let himself be carried anywhere. He’s never said as much with words, because of course he hasn’t. But Daniel has seen him squirm and curl into a ball (or actually try to hide under the furniture) any time Daniel’s been tempted to do it. Even right after the whole vampocalypse debacle that very nearly left him short an eyeball, the most assistance he would ever accept from Daniel was an elbow to grasp while making the torturous trip up to their bed. Proud and stubborn and self-reliant to a fault, his fascinating creature of a boyfriend.
So this one was kind of a no-brainer, basically. Which is why Daniel needs to blink a few times to process the lack of touch-screen devices thrown at him and the pair of grabby hands now extending his way instead.
“Yeah?” he has to ask, just short of pinching himself. “You sure?”
For a second, Daniel is terrified it might all have backfired, he might have overdone it with his relentless needling and cracked one of the very few boundaries Armand ever set with him before all of this. But there is no sign of discomfort, not on Armand’s sleep-softened face, not inside their bond.
“Yeah,” Armand finally drawls, and Daniel could eat him up for that snarky imitation of his accent, for the quirk in his eyebrow, for the way he’s sitting up to drape his arms loosely around Daniel’s neck.
Armand is surprisingly difficult to carry.
Though neither of them will ever admit it, Daniel knows Armand usually throws in a hint of Cloud Gift whenever he lets himself be manhandled, especially in bed. But now he’s actually clinging on to Daniel, all far-more-than-137-pounds of him. And it’s a point of pride not to drop him or take a break halfway up the stairs but - vampire powers or not - Daniel’s thighs are a burning mess near the end and his lungs might be well on their way out too.
“My strong, gallant fledgling,” Armand coos drowsily into Daniel’s ear. “My silver-haired knight.”
Daniel could swear he’s somehow making himself heavier now. The little shit. With the absolute last of his strength, he manages to set Armand down on the bed, where he sprawls out like all his limbs have gone liquid. He grins up at Daniel, suddenly looking much more awake.
“Thank you.”
“What for?” Daniel pants. He needs to hold on to the closet door for a second.
“The lift.” Armand’s grin gets wider, all sharp teeth and glee. And for the first time in his life and undeath, Daniel Molloy, card-carrying monsterfucker since 1973, fears he may have created a monster himself.
“Oh, and the lovely use of operant conditioning, beloved. I’ve been enjoying it immensely.”
“The what now?” The spots are slowly starting to fade from Daniel’s vision. It gives him a clear view of the smug look on Armand’s face.
“Your mobile phone’s note-taking application synchronizes automatically with our shared electronic data storage.”
Well, fuck. How is it fair that Armand talks like that whenever he wants to be extra ancient and annoying, but somehow Daniel is the tech-illiterate boomer in this relationship? And why is that making him feel all warm and fuzzy inside??
“You little shit,” Daniel says, out loud this time. “You read my entire list, didn’t you?”
“I cannot recall now. My mind was foggy with love.” Armand smiles, angelic and demonic and like Daniel needs to kiss him right now.
So he does. Until Armand - newly minted brat that he is - shoves him off with a wild, giddy cackle. It might just be the most beautiful sound Daniel has ever heard.