Work Text:
Will hasn’t been back to New Orleans since he quit the force all those years back. Never really felt right since the beginning, but the knife in his shoulder was the last straw. Handed in his badge as soon as he got out of the hospital and left the city no more than a week later.
He almost flat out turned Jack down when he called him two days ago, informing him of a crime scene believed to be connected to a recent string of murders in the city.
“One a night,” Jack said, “All white males, many of them young, mostly between the ages of 19 and 24. Every last one of them was found either in the dump, the junkyard, or some poor soul’s trash can. All of them missing every last drop of blood in their body, yet with no visible exterior wounds beyond a couple bruises here and there.”
First thing Will noticed when he examined the bodies in person was that they were all conventionally attractive, or at the least above average in the looks department. Toned and fit, most of them.
“What else we know about these men?” Will asked.
Jack ran him through the basics. One other thing they shared in common was their drinking habits. Every one of them was known to be a bar hopper or an alcoholic, often both. It was clear their killer frequented the same bars, scouting attractive men. But to what end? Why kill them afterwards, and how?
“He’s certainly got a type,” Will said. “He’s picking these men up at the bar, taking them back to his place. They’re going willingly: he’s a real smooth talker, attractive. He knows how to bring them in quick. It’s routine for him.”
“But why kill them?” Jack asked. “How is he draining the blood? I’ve had Price and Zeller working overtime with a full team and they’ve found nothing. No puncture wounds, no evidence of the use of needles. These two here,” Jack gestured between the two laid out before them. “They’re the only ones that are bruised up. And we checked the cameras at every bar in the vicinity, nothing. They’ve been tampered with or our guy’s smart enough to not walk out hand-in-hand with them.”
“But we do have the footage?”
Jack nodded.
“I need to see it.”
There really wasn’t much to go on. People coming and going, stopping outside the bar to have a smoke and a chat. The owner closing up shop every morning. He couldn’t say what it was that gave him the feeling—never could, really, it’s not how his gift worked—but there was a man: light skinned or mixed race—impossible to know for certain—who caught his eye. There wasn’t anything particularly special about him. He seemed attractive, probably near Will’s age. There was a level of confidence evident in his walk, but it really came through an hour later when he appeared on video again and nearly got hit by a Mercedes driver who failed to notice their light was red.
Everyone reacts differently in stressful situations. When it comes to potentially life-or-death ones, though, the reactions tend to be similar. Most in this position would at the least flinch back, or start running, or jump, or maybe stop in their tracks and squeeze their eyes shut, hoping for the best. The man on video did none of these: instead, he merely continued to follow his path towards the bar.
It wasn’t like he didn’t notice. He looked over his shoulder at the driver when he or she slammed on the brakes just in time, stopping close enough for him to reach out and touch the grill with ease. He made eye contact with the driver and looked away like it was nothing. Just kept walking.
That kind of confidence was abnormal. Either he found himself untouchable, or he was part of the rare minority of those who were genuinely unafraid of dying. Either way, it made him stand out.
“I know that look,” Jack said, appearing in the doorway. “What are you thinking?”
“Just a hunch,” Will said, pushing up his glasses. “But this guy,” He pointed at the man once Jack came further in to stare over his shoulder. “Something suspicious about him. Always goes in and comes out alone, which is hardly weird on its own, but watch this.” He played the almost-accident again. “See that? No reaction.”
“And that means what?”
“Could mean nothing,” Will shrugged. “Or it could mean he thinks he’s invincible, or that he has nothing left to lose. I’m willing to bet on both.”
“And you think that’s the kind of person our killer is.”
“I think it’s likely.”
“Okay,” Jack nodded. “We’ll assemble a squad and—”
“No,” Will interrupted. “He’s smart. He’ll know something is off. Intimidation is unlikely to work on him. We need to be careful.”
“Okay, what do you suggest?”
“Give me your honest opinion first: do I look like his type?”
Jack took a moment to look him over before he nodded. “I could see it, yeah. But Will, whatever you’re thinking isn’t safe. I can’t let you go in alone.”
“Not alone, then. Get eyes on all the exits and cover the perimeter. But don’t make it obvious. He’s smart. If my suspicion is unfounded and this guy is innocent, we could still end up scaring off the real deal if we aren’t extra careful.”
“Okay, got it. I’ll make the arrangements. When do you want to do this?”
“Tonight.”
###
Jack did a decent enough job of not making it obvious. He made sure when he arrived at the bar to check every angle for any sight of his team and was pleased to find none whatsoever. He stepped inside like he wasn’t a man on a mission, just a guy recently off work looking for a drink and some pleasant conversation, or a hookup. He really hoped no one else tried to hit on him while he was waiting—got a couple of interested looks from some guys up front and one in the back, tried not to make eye contact with them as he took a seat and asked the bartender for a shot of whiskey.
Their guy never arrived at the same time, but it was normally earlier in the evening that he made an appearance. He left the bar at around midnight both times he was clearly caught on camera. He never left later than an hour or so before the bar closed, and he never showed up before nightfall. Will was there just ten minutes after the start of that window of time.
Their guy made an appearance about fifteen minutes later. Will had been trying not to watch the door too obsessively, but it was hard not to turn and look when he heard it open. He looked away before the guy could notice him staring, choosing to ask the bartender for a refill and attempt to pass as just another sad drunkard instead of the on-duty special agent he really was. Just as he’d hoped, the guy came and took the seat directly to his right before ordering a shot of the same whiskey Will had been drinking.
Will gave him a polite nod of acknowledgement as he downed his, taking a subtle peek at the guy’s credit card as he placed it on the bar.
Louis de Pointe du Lac.
“You catch last night’s game?”
Will blinked at him, a little taken off guard by the question. “Sorry?”
Louis gestured at his shirt. Will had to look down at himself to remember he was wearing a Saints shirt. He noticed, similarly late, that Louis was wearing a Saints jacket.
“Ah, no,” Will answered honestly. “I’m actually not much of a sports fan.”
Louis leaned back, hand on his chest in mock offense. “You go out in a Saints shirt in New Orleans the night after a big game, but you’re not a fan? What is it then, a disguise? Trying to fit in or what?”
Will nearly began to panic, thinking he’d been seen right through, but then Louis chuckled and waved his own words away.
“Tell you the truth, I’m not a big sports fan myself.”
Will raised an eyebrow at him. “Why the apparel then?”
Louis shrugged. “New Orleans born and raised. I take pride in the city of my birth, and the things my fellow citizens take pride in.”
He’d said only a few words, but already his manner of speaking was coming across a bit…odd. Will couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I was also born and raised here,” Will admitted, “Though I moved to Virginia way back when. Long enough back that I lost my accent.”
Louis considered him for a brief moment. “Nah, it’s still there. I can hear a bit of it trying to peek through. Guessing you’ve only been back a short while, otherwise it’d be more obvious by now. Same thing happened to me. Been traveling all over the world for, well…long time now. Only been back in New Orleans maybe a month or so.”
A month. That’s about when the bodies started dropping.
“So why’d you come back?” Louis asked, raising his drink.
“Work,” Will answered honestly, then raised his own freshly refilled glass to his lips. He took careful note of the way Louis’s eyes slid to them as he did.
“You a cop?”
Will nearly choked on his drink. He coughed a little just to be safe, and Louis gave him an apologetic smile.
“No,” he said, “I’m a professor now, but I used to be a cop. How’d you know?”
Louis gave him an indecipherable look. He finished his drink and slid the glass closer to the bartender when he reached for it.
“I’m a mindreader,” he said, like it was just a simple fact.
Will waited for the punchline but his face remained perfectly stoic. Not a hint of humor in his expression.
“What kinda work they got a professor coming down from Virginia to do anyways?” Louis asked instead.
Mindreader or not, it was obvious he’d been found out in some capacity. Best to try and convince him he wasn’t a suspect. His outright lies were failing so he’d best tell the truth, much as he could, and hope that was enough. If he was lucky and Louis was their man, maybe he’d be the type to find danger alluring.
“Alright,” Will said, raising his hands in surrender. “You got me. I am a professor, yes, but I’m also a Special Agent.”
Louis looked genuinely taken aback by that. “Like with the FBI?”
“Yup. Came down on official FBI business.”
“Huh. Could’ve fooled me.”
Will gave him a look as if to say really? Louis laughed wholeheartedly with a wide grin. Will found himself chuckling in response, despite himself.
He was very charming: confident yet down to earth, and with an air of mystery surrounding him. Intriguing and alluring. Quite handsome too, especially when he smiled. Will noticed only then that his eyes were an unusual shade of green with what almost looked to be a thin ring of barely-there purple around the pupils. Special contacts, maybe, but he couldn’t see the edges of them like he normally could when this close to somebody.
Almost like they both noticed how close they’d started to lean towards each other at the same time, they both leaned back a bit.
“What kind of business?” Louis asked, then added quickly “If you can tell me. I assume most of that stuff’s top secret.”
Usually, yes. But Jack and his superiors were willing to let him bend the rules a bit when doing so helped him deliver results.
“We’re investigating a string of murders,” Will said, and Louis waited just a second too long before looking surprised. If he’d been 50/50 on it at the start, he was about seventy five percent positive this was their guy at this point. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Louis approached him with the sole intent of finding out how much he knew, how far along they were in their search.
“Murders, you say?”
“Yep.”
Will took another swig, giving Louis a bit of time to formulate another question. An open invitation to learn more and possibly incriminate himself in the process.
What he actually asked was far from what Will had in mind, though.
“So what does a Special Agent do, exactly?
“Well, it depends,” Will said, struggling to decide how best to answer. “I’m not officially FBI, but I have a temporary badge. I look at crime scenes and give my opinions based on what I see. Theories, criminal profiles and the like.”
“And does your being a professor have to do with that?”
“Well, yes. I’m a professor at Quantico. I teach future law enforcers.”
Louis hummed thoughtfully, looking him up and down. Will couldn’t get a clear read on him.
“So when they can’t find a killer, they call you to tell them what kind of person that killer is.”
There was a light in Louis’s eyes then. A light that unsettled Will as much as it intrigued him.
“Pretty much,” Will said.
“So?” Louis asked, pointing at his own chest. “What kinda person am I, you think?”
Dread seized Will’s heart. This guy was…much too perceptive. Sure, anyone might be curious to know what an empath like himself would think of them after a short conversation. Reading people was his job, and people liked to be read. Louis’s expression, though…his posture, and his overall demeanor…they told him he knew. He knew that Will knew, and he knew that Will wouldn’t get anything from him he could use. He was, for whatever reason, untouchable.
Will swallowed uncomfortably, unsure what to do now that he was found out. What could he do? Threaten him with the knowledge of over a dozen agents surrounding the block?
Louis shifted a little, looking over his shoulder for just a second before returning his full attention to Will.
No, that wouldn’t work. He had to know his rights. He didn’t seem the type to be easily intimidated or intimidated at all for that matter. He was bold, confident, and he killed in a manner that couldn’t be identified let alone linked back to him in any way. The camera footage was all they had. Nothing.
“You…” Will started, wetting his lips. “Give me the impression that you think you're invincible. But it’s not ego, is it? It’s true. Whatever armor you’ve got on, it’s impenetrable.”
Louis sat forward at that, rapt.
“You’re searching for real connection,” Will continued. “You search every night, but you never find it. You’re great at making connections, charming as you are, but you’re still lonely.”
Louis looked impressed at first, eyes widening as Will went on. By the time Will finished, though, he just looked sad.
“You’re good at what you do,” he said. “Do you enjoy it?”
“I help save lives,” Will said in lieu of a direct answer.
Louis nodded. “Used to feel good, helping people,” he said. “But I’m not that good at it. Not anymore. Seems the only thing I’m good at these days is hurting people.”
His expression was so sincere, Will felt a pang of misplaced sympathy. Empathising with a killer was one thing—something he did all the time—but sympathising was a no-go. He had enough trouble disentangling his own mind from those of the killers he wore like a second skin. He needed to think of something quick, some way of ending this before it got worse and more people died. If the conversation continued down the route it was going, he might actually be able to convince the guy to turn himself in.
“Do you wanna know how I see you?” Louis asked. “Since I’m a mindreader and all.”
It wasn’t like he could say no. Plus he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious.
“I think we’re similar, you and me,” Louis said. “You want to help people but you’re afraid of hurting them. You understand killers a little too well, and you’re afraid people will start to notice.”
What? Will’s jaw went slack as he processed what Louis was saying.
“You want to save lives but you’re afraid you’ll look too closely one day, and never look back. There’s a part of you, deep down, that you’re deeply afraid of acknowledging. A version of you that’s capable of the same sort of violence you unpack and analyze days after it happens.”
Will didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have the faintest clue what, specifically, he’d said about himself that gave any of this away.
“You do this kind of work to make up for it,” Louis said. “Almost like…an apology. To compensate for the things you’re capable of.”
Will felt dizzy. He had no clue how Louis was doing it, but it was like he’d unscrewed his skull and reached right into his brain, pulling out his deepest, darkest insecurities and putting them under the light for all to see. Like he was, in fact, a mindreader.
“Sorry,” Louis said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “You probably didn’t want to hear all that.”
“I…” Will stumbled over his words. “I don’t understand. How do you…?”
“I’m a vampire,” Louis said, chest expanding as he released a huge breath. “Never gets old, saying it out loud like that.”
Will must’ve looked stupid, staring at him wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open.
“No blood left, right?” Louis said. “‘Cause I drank it all.”
Uh, okay. Things were starting to get really fucking weird.
“Life is weird,” Louis said. “As is unlife. Say, why don’t you and I head back to my place for a bit and chat some more? Somewhere private, where we can say what’s really on our minds.”
What the hell was going on?
“I, uh…”
“Don’t worry,” Louis said, leaning in close as he gave him a lopsided grin. “I don’t kill cops or special agents. Not worth the hassle. Besides, I like you. You’re a fascinating guy. Smart and handsome to boot. I think we’ve got a lot in common.”
At a total loss for words, Will stared back silently. Louis seemed to be telling the truth but he had no way of knowing for certain. He could very well end up like all those other men, and then…
Louis shook his head. “You’re not gonna end up like them,” he said. “But you don’t have to come along if you don’t want to. Just know that, if you choose not to, you’ll never see me again. I’ll be out of the country in a day’s time. You’ll never know how I did it, or why.”
“I don’t understand,” Will said, snapping out of it. “Why are you telling me all of this? What’s the goal here?”
“You were right,” Louis said with a small shrug. “Somewhat. I’m lonely, looking for some connection. It’s been a long time since I ran into someone like yourself. Someone I could tell the truth to.”
“You’ve told others?”
Didn’t matter what this truth of his entailed, Will wasn’t concerned with that. What he was concerned with was whether or not these others still lived or not.
“Oh yeah, he’s still kicking it. Been almost fifty years since I last saw him, but he seems to be doing pretty good since last I heard of him. Won a couple Pulitzer prizes and everything.”
“A journalist?”
“Mmhm. First a journalist, now a cop. Special agent, sorry.”
Too busy being utterly flabbergasted by the turn of events, Will caught on slowly to the fact that Louis was responding directly to his thoughts like he’d said them all out loud. What in the everloving fuck…
“I did say I was a mindreader, what, fifteen minutes ago? You starting to believe me now?”
Jesus Christ. What had Will gotten himself into?
“I can tell you,” Louis said, sliding off the bar stool to stand. “But you’ll have to come with me. I’ll wait out front for a couple minutes, otherwise I’ll assume fear won over curiosity.”
And just like that, he paid off his tab and left Will all alone in his bewildered, frightened state.
###
Will really couldn’t believe he was doing this.
He’d waited about one minute before hurrying after Louis, legs carrying him towards the strange, self-proclaimed vampire like they were on autopilot, not a single coherent thought to be found in his head. Louis said nothing when he stepped up to him, just nodded his head and put his cigarette out under his foot before leading Will down a dark alley.
“Assuming your entourage is gonna want to follow,” he said. “So I’d like to speed things up a bit, if you’re alright with that.”
“What do you mean ‘speed things up’?” Will frowned at him as he approached, taking a step back and finding himself with his back pressed up against the brick wall.
“I can move faster than the human eye can keep up with,” Louis said. “Here, I’ll show you.” Will jumped a bit when Louis stepped up close and wrapped both arms around him, but his hold wasn’t tight. “Ready?”
“Ready for wh—”
It was like the world suddenly blurred around them. Their surroundings moved so fast Will couldn’t tell what was up or down anymore, and his stomach lurched painfully as the wind buffeted his hair. Right before he thought he might vomit, Louis released him.
“What just…”
Will looked around them. Their surroundings didn’t match the alley or the general area outside the bar at all. He hadn’t the faintest idea where they were.
“My place,” Louis said. “One of many places I own across the country.” He took the short concrete steps up to the front door and unlocked it. “Please,” he said, gesturing for Will to enter.
Trembling like a newborn foal, Will took the steps and stepped cautiously inside.
The place was nicely decorated—modern and sleek. But there was something distinctly missing. There was also something present which was rather unanticipated, until Will remembered what Louis had claimed to be.
“You sleep in a coffin.”
It was as much a statement as a question.
“Uh-huh.”
“Why not a bed?”
“Safer. No chance of getting burnt should someone open the blinds while I sleep.”
Why have someone over at all if that’s a risk?
“It’s also just more comfortable,” Louis added. ‘Couldn’t say why, exactly. Just a natural thing for us, I suppose.”
“Huh.”
“Why don’t you have a seat at the table,” Louis said, pointing to the table in question.
Will did as suggested, for lack of a better option. He was, for the first time in a very long time, completely out of his comfort zone.
“You’re a vampire,” he said when Louis came to sit across from him. “Vampires are real.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Why? How?”
“In answer to your first question: I was turned into one by an older vampire. As for the second, I can’t say. Not sure any of us knows how exactly we came to be as we are.”
“And I’m supposed to just sit with this knowledge now?”
Louis shrugged. “What you do with it is up to you.”
“So you were…eating them?”
Bloodless corpses, no exterior wounds.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Louis gave him a perplexed look.
“I mean, why those men specifically?” Will clarified.
Another shrug, this one a little uneven. “I found them attractive,” was all he said, like that was reason enough.
And perhaps it was, considering how many killers Will had profiled whose victims consisted only of those they found sexually attractive. Not so strange after all.
“Do you find me attractive?” Will asked, though that wasn’t his real question.
Louis gave him a disarming smile. “Yes, but not like that. Not for eating. The wires can get crossed sometimes, yes, but it’s not a problem for me anymore. I’m in full control of myself now.”
“You’ve been around for a while now, haven’t you?” Will asked, finally coming to understand the reason behind his odd manner.
“Lived in three centuries now,” Louis said. “Though I’m nowhere near the oldest amongst our kind.”
“You’ve made it this long without getting caught, then,” Will said, coming to another realization. “So why let us get so close? What changed?”
Louis hummed thoughtfully, resting his chin on his fist. “Lot of things change over time. Forensics, laws, people. Attitudes and outlook on life.”
Could he be any more vague?
Louis sighed. “Was hoping to get someone’s attention,” he said. “Someone I’m not even sure is around here anymore, if I’m honest. But it seems I caught the FBI’s attention first.”
There was a wistful tone to his voice.
“This someone, is that…the person who made you a vampire?”
Louis’s smile was just as wistful. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a mindreader too.”
“I have been called that once or twice on occasion.”
“So, what happened? Why are you searching for this other vampire now?”
Louis looked a little hesitant at first, but he answered quickly. “We were lovers, he and I.”
“Oh.”
It shouldn’t be a surprise to hear. It certainly shouldn’t come with…what was this feeling, exactly? Disappointment?
“But it didn’t work out,” Louis added. “We tried a couple different times, but it always ended in heartbreak. He refused to change and I refused to acknowledge that.”
“But you’re looking for him again?”
Louis looked down at the table. He’d started tapping it in regular intervals about a minute ago. Nervous tic, probably. “It must seem stupid,” he said. “What’s the definition of insanity? Trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?”
“Well, first of all: I don’t have any context. Secondly, you guys live forever, right? People do change. An immortal might not change in a decade, but what about a century? A millennia?”
Louis’s finger stilled. The look he gave Will was so open, so full of desperate longing, Will felt suddenly overwhelmed.
“It’s been a long time,” Louis said. “Close to seventy years. Things ended really badly the last time.”
“What happened?”
Now that the shock of Louis’s true nature had more or less worn off or otherwise had enough time to settle into the background, Will couldn’t resist asking. He found this man positively fascinating. Little as he’d learned about him in their brief time speaking, he thought he was beginning to see why Louis said the two had a lot in common.
“It’s an incredibly long story, but, well…I killed him.”
Uh, okay. Not what he was expecting.
“I killed him,” Louis continued, “And he came for revenge. I survived but our daughter…did not.”
The uncomfortable silence that followed was like a physical presence in the room. Will didn’t know how to respond to that and Louis didn’t seem to want to say anything more. He just stared down at the table while Will stared at him in confused disbelief.
“And you think…what? That he’s changed his mind after all this time?”
He didn’t have the courage to demand why he would want to be with someone who, certainly by the sound of it, killed his daughter. He tried not to think about Abigail: she was never his daughter, and he was never close to Hannibal like that. They were merely friends, or so he thought.
“He loves me,” Louis said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “I know that. Even when he hurt me. It’s not some delusion of mine, I’m bound to him by the blood that runs in our veins. A vampire who creates another vampire is bound to him and vice versa, and the two are able to feel each other’s emotions as strongly as they do their own. I have always felt his love for me. Even then.”
It was clear from his expression when he finally looked up at Will again that he expected him to pass some kind of judgement upon him. Like he was someone with that kind of authority: a holy entity, perhaps. But there was no judgement to pass—the only thing Will felt for him in that moment was sympathy. He didn’t know the particulars of this relationship or really anything at all, but he could see that Louis had been through hell and back. The loneliness Will saw in him was much deeper than he initially thought.
“I can’t pretend to understand your reasoning here,” Will said, “But I think I can understand your pain, to a degree.”
“Have you ever lost someone you loved?” Louis asked.
“My father, I guess,” Will said, though they weren’t particularly close towards the end. He did not think about Abigail. “Never had much in the way of friends or family. I have my work and my dogs.”
Louis gave him an odd look. Will wondered if he was reading his mind again: was that a constant thing, always running in the background, or did it only happen with intention?
“Intention,” Louis answered. “This girl you keep trying not to think about. She wasn’t your daughter?”
Well, so much for that. “No,” Will shook his head. It was his turn to stare down at the table then. “I…I wanted her to be, I think, but she wasn’t. I killed her father. I would have adopted her if I could’ve.”
Hannibal had said they were her parents. But then he killed her.
“Wasn’t with my own hands,” Louis said, “But it was my fault my daughter’s building was lit on fire, and her auntie burned to death. I rescued her, and had my maker make her a vampire as well.”
An unlikely commonality.
“Abigail’s dad slit her throat, after he did the same to her mom. He never would’ve done that if it hadn’t been for my…my psychiatrist’s interest in me. He caused it, but he wouldn’t have had the means to do so if it weren’t for me. He saved her, though, kept her from bleeding out…and then later on, he killed her and pinned it on me. Went to prison for it and everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Louis said, and he both looked and sounded genuine. “Were you…close to this psychiatrist?”
“I thought I was,” Will said, and it surprised him how much it hurt. “I thought he was my best friend. But it turns out I never really knew him like I thought I did.”
Louis nodded with a look of understanding. “As I suspected. We’re similar.”
“I guess.”
They fell into a more comfortable sort of quiet for a moment. Will figured Louis was reading his mind still, but he didn’t address any of his thoughts out loud, something Will found he was grateful for. He hadn’t thought such feelings would’ve been brought to the surface again when he followed a vampire serial killer into a dark alley.
“Are you hungry?” Louis eventually asked. They’d both been quietly lost in thought so long Will had no idea how much time had passed.
“A little, yeah.”
“Would you like me to order you something to eat? We can chat about something less depressing after.”
“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”
Louis ordered him two pepperoni stuffed crust pizzas. He didn’t have the faintest clue why he thought Will would need or be able to eat that much food on his own, beyond maybe having forgotten how much normal people eat, but then he tore a piece from the second box and took a bite of it himself. He didn’t look outwardly disgusted, but it was still clear from the awkward way he chewed that it was doing absolutely nothing for him. When asked about it, he said he still ate human food from time to time. Something about maintaining a thread. Will didn’t understand what he meant exactly, but he could understand the sentiment behind his words.
Afterwards, they talked about the city and how much it’d changed for the both of them—a lot more in Louis’s case, obviously. They talked about their respective childhoods a bit, and shared some embarrassing stories. They talked about music and learned they had similar taste in books. At one point, Louis asked him another question Will wouldn’t have had a problem answering any other time, but that he found himself debating when it came from him.
“Are you into men, or do you only find yourself in gay bars when you’re hunting serial killers?”
Should’ve been an easy no. Sure, he’d had experiences when he was younger, as many boys did, but he’d never looked at another man that way since. Except maybe…no, it was too painful a thought to complete.
“Men aren’t normally to my taste,” Will said instead, “But there’s always room for exception.”
He would like it, he thought: being with someone like Louis. Someone who could look into the deepest, darkest corners of his mind without being afraid of what he saw there. He might’ve been a killer, but he was nothing at all like the killers that haunted Will’s dreams every night. He was, quite literally, a monster, but that fact combined with everything else he shared about himself only served to make him all the more human in Will’s eyes.
Louis was staring at him like he was thinking about kissing him. Seeing that made Will think about it too, which might as well have been permission in the eyes of the former. And perhaps it was, after all, since Will leaned into it without having to consider it at all. Louis’s lips were soft against his. His barely-there stubble was the exact opposite, but Will found he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. When Louis reached up to cradle the side of his face and tilt his head, deepening the kiss, Will moved with him.
He pulled away much too soon.
“Your coworkers are nearby. They’re panicking, thinking I’ve dragged you off to kill you.”
Will huffed an amused breath. “Can hardly blame them. I did disappear down a dark alley with our top suspect.”
“You should probably get going, then. Before things get dire.”
“Yeah, probably,” Will said, though he didn’t move an inch.
One more kiss wouldn’t hurt, would it? Only one way to find out.