Work Text:
Dubai, mid December 2022
Armand stood at the wardrobe in their bedroom. He was picking out an ensemble for Daniel to wear.
Daniel was in the ensuite bathroom, shaving himself. He had been at it for quite some time.
“Ow! Fuck!” Daniel said emphatically on the other side of the door. His cursing was followed by the sound of the razor being flung down into the sink and Daniel heaving a deep sigh.
This was, if Armand had counted correctly, the fourth time Daniel had hurt himself during this particular shaving session.
Armand picked up a belt and took it to the bed to hold it against the pair of trousers he had already selected.
He had learned not to rush to Daniel’s aid whenever it seemed Daniel might need assistance with mundane tasks like this. Daniel was much more attached to his independence now than he had been when he was still young and relatively healthy and he had, on more than one occasion, yelled at Armand to stop treating him like ‘some kind of invalid’.
When he had finished laying out Daniel’s clothes, Armand lingered in the bedroom, occupying himself with changing a few of his rings, until Daniel emerged from the bathroom wearing a dark gray robe, matching slippers and a deep frown.
Daniel shuffled towards the bed and sat down on it, his shoulders slouched forward, and scowled at his own feet.
Armand studied his face from where he stood by the sideboard. The wounds Daniel had inadvertently inflicted upon himself were very small. A human wouldn’t have noticed them, but Armand could smell the blood as well as see the cuts.
The vampire walked over to the bed, took one of Daniel’s hands in his and kissed the back of it, turned it over to kiss the palm. Then he let go of it again to make some slight adjustments to Daniel’s hair.
Daniel closed his eyes and leaned into Armand’s touch as Armand ran his fingers through his curls, down his temple, over his face.
“I wish you would allow me to do it,” Armand said. He knew he wouldn’t have to specify what he was referring to.
Daniel’s expression, which had softened a little under Armand’s ministrations, hardened again.
“I can do it myself,” he grunted. He kept his eyes closed and Armand kept caressing his face.
“Can you?”
Armand made an effort to keep his voice as free from judgement as he could. There was no judgement there, but Daniel tended to see and hear judgement where there was none. Because he tended to judge himself.
Not on all topics – there were areas of his life in which Daniel could be wonderfully self-indulgent, often to a fault – but on the parts of himself that caused him to feel insecure. Such as (at times) his sexual identity and (at all times) his declining health.
Daniel’s expression changed again. It cycled through many emotions in just a few short seconds, and settled on defeat. He finally opened his eyes, which were filled with sadness. “No,” he confessed. His voice was soft, small, almost a whisper. “I can’t. Not today.”
He hung his head and covered his face with his trembling hands. His shoulders shook with silent sobs.
Armand knelt down next to him on the bed and pulled him to his chest, rubbing his hand over Daniel’s arm, pressing soft, comforting kisses to the top of his head.
“I would gladly do it for you,” Armand said when Daniel’s shaking had lessened somewhat.
“Baby, that’s not… I don’t want – ugh.” Daniel sighed again and buried his face in Armand’s chest, clearly frustrated by his inability to articulate his objections.
Armand held him a little tighter. “I have shaved you many times,” he reminded Daniel. “In the 1970s and 80s.”
Daniel used to enjoy it when Armand shaved his face. Armand’s undivided attention, his hand on Daniel’s jaw, turning his head this way and that. The feel of the straight razor scraping along his skin. The thrill he received from the undercurrent of danger inherent to letting Armand hold a sharp blade to his throat. The need to sit perfectly still.
Daniel made a soft, self-deprecating noise against Armand’s chest.
Armand continued to shower him in soothing caresses. Over his arm, his neck, his hair. “You let me select your clothes,” he stated simply. “Wash your hair in the shower. Buy you books and expensive liquor. I enjoy taking care of you.”
It would be so simple for Armand to add this small task to his list of things he did for Daniel.
“Those things are different,” Daniel all but whispered.
“Are they?” There was, again, no judgement on Armand’s part.
“Yes,” Daniel spat.
“I want to understand.”
Daniel pulled away from him, but only so they could look each other in the eyes while he spoke.
“I can still do all those things myself. I can choose to let you do them for me. And yeah, I like it. But I don’t have a Goddamn choice with this. I…”
He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed out hard through his nose. A tear ran down his face. “I cut myself four times, Armand. Four fucking times. Like some pimply teenager who’s never held a razor before. And I don’t… I don’t fucking want to need help.”
Armand could understand that. He might not know what it was like to have an incurable disease eating away at you, but it had been centuries since he had allowed himself to need help.
Daniel wiped at his face like he was angry at his tears. “And now I’m crying about it like some baby,” he pouted in a way that was, unfortunately, rather reminiscent of a young child.
Armand pulled him back into his embrace. “There’s no shame in experiencing these emotions, my love.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” Daniel sniffed. “You’re never going to die.”
Armand knew that this was not the time to remind Daniel of the fact that he was willing to share his immortality with him.
“Would it help if we practiced?” Armand asked instead.
“Practice what? You gonna re-teach me how to shave? I haven’t forgotten. I just can’t fucking do it.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Armand replied gently. “I meant practicing with you letting me shave you. What if, on a day on which your symptoms are mild and you could, technically, shave yourself, you choose to let me do it?”
Daniel was silent for a moment. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robe. “I guess.”
“Then another time, you can choose not to let me do it. And then perhaps, when needing my help becomes inevitable, it might not be so hard to accept.”
The logic might be slightly flawed but Armand knew that if there was anything that was important to Daniel in this stage of his life, it was to have agency over his own body. Which was something that that body itself was slowly taking away from him.
“Yeah.” Daniel nodded. “Yeah, okay. We can try that. But you have to let me choose, okay?”
Armand nodded, too. “Yes.”
Daniel gave him a watery smile and Armand wiped the last tear from Daniel’s face with his thumb.
Armand was glad that was settled. He did not like witnessing his boy’s distress. Did not like not being able to take his pain away. He stood up and took both of Daniel’s hands in his. “Now, will you let me dress you?”
Daniel shook his head. “Nah, I can do it myself. Might just take me a while.”
Armand nodded and they let go of each other. Daniel reached out for the belt Armand had picked out for him and fiddled with the buckle with his ‘good’ hand, the one he had the most control over. “You can tell the kitchen I want eggs, though.”
Armand raised his eyebrows. “Can I now?”
Daniel didn’t look up from the belt but Armand could see the small, mischievous smile on his face. “Yeah. You know, since you’re so eager to help,” Daniel answered matter-of-factly.
Armand decided to indulge him. “Very well, Mr. Molloy. Sunny side up?”
“Yeah.” Daniel faced him now, still smiling.
“Was there anything else you required?”
Daniel shook his head. “Just the usual. Oh, and that fancy tea,” He added, breaking character. “With the lavender in it.”
“Right away, sir.” They smiled at each other, then Armand looked down at the belt in Daniel’s hand. “Don’t change the belt. I picked it out specifically to coordinate with your shoes.”
“Yeah, boss, I know, I won’t mess with your vision.”
Armand pressed a final kiss to Daniel’s forehead. “Good boy.”
“Fuck you,” Daniel told him fondly as Armand turned to leave.
Which was a good sign.
It meant that Daniel felt at least marginally better about the situation. And that Armand had, in fact, been able to help.