Chapter Text
Manhattan. 31st of December, 1974.
—
New Year’s Eve has crept around again, and this time Daniel Molloy is greeting it with an entirely new outlook- more or less.
Last year he was a wreck, sobbing himself to sleep in the guest bedroom of his mother’s house and desperately trying to convince himself that he would ever be happier sober. He had pictured what ‘74 had in store for him: a grubby little shoebox apartment, the tedium of his job writing for the lifestyle section in the local paper, and probably another trainwreck relationship with a woman who was much too pretty and motivated to ever put up with his bullshit longterm. Or maybe he’d skip the girlfriend aspect and learn how to play the guitar or something, instead.
Either way he looked at it, Daniel wouldn’t have dreamed he would be where he is now; in his lavish Manhattan penthouse, drinking a whiskey neat on the balcony overlooking the Hudson River, as gorgeous men and women laugh and twirl around on the dance floor behind him.
Well, not his penthouse- technically it was Armand’s and Daniel lived there unofficially. Also, not his gorgeous friends, they were Armand’s too, connections from his modeling career. But that was another thing Daniel didn’t anticipate- couldn’t have anticipated: that year he would be thrust into a fast-paced world of twisted, supernatural romance straight from the mind of Bram Stoker.
The Vampire Armand had stalked him for weeks in San Francisco before saving him from what would have been another guilty cocaine binge, and the implosion of his wobbly attempt at a new life. They had slept together, because what else are you supposed to do when you wake up to find an ethereal man like Armand has let himself into your apartment with no intention of leaving; and it had been… amazing.
On top of everything the Vampire was, (stunning, athletic, commanding, elegant), what truly drove Daniel insane was the fangs, how they felt in his neck while Armand caressed him. He would hold that sensation in his mind for weeks afterwards; clinging to it like a fix.
When Armand returned like he had promised, it had been nearly two months since their last encounter, and Daniel was nearly beginning to think he had imagined it all in some drugged-up wet dream. Safe to say, what followed their second encounter was a weekend of exploration that lived up to Daniel’s fantasies and left him even crazier for the Vampire.
Armand too, seemed fixated with Daniel after that, differently to how he had been before- all jealousy and spite for Louis that drove his curiosity. Now when he looked at Daniel, brushed against his skin or invaded his thoughts there was something else there. Adoration maybe? He revered Daniel for some reason; looked at him like he was the sun. Bright and splendid- forbidden.
Both men decided then that they could no longer contain their affair to sordid, breathless nights in Daniel’s apartment followed by weeks of pining and silence. Armand had invited Daniel to stay with him at his residence in New York, and he hadn’t taken “no” for an answer.
The reporter had protested at first, purely because it was all so unfamiliar and fast for him; he pointed out the lease he was locked in for at least another eight months, but Armand had only flashed those pearly fangs and offered to take care of the landlord.
He tried again, “I can’t afford to pay any more in rent than I already do, and given your chic tastes-”
“Don’t think for one second you would pay for anything. I am more than capable of providing for both of us, Daniel.” Was the Vampire’s reply, which though Daniel found incredibly hot, only pressed him further.
One night in August while they lay tangled in sweaty sheets, Armand once again imploring Daniel to move in with him, the man had taken a long drag on his cigarette and finally conceded.
“But you have to promise me one thing?” Daniel had asked.
“Anything.”
“I’m not gonna be some second to Louis. I will only be all yours, If you are all mine.”
The Vampire’s laugh had fluttered against Daniel’s skin, and it was agreed.
*****
Like newlyweds, they had wasted no time at all in intertwining their lives. The reporter packed away his dearest possessions: his tape recorder, LPs and record player, favourite mug, photographs, novels and clothes. The rest of his furniture was sold or donated, and soon the last trace of him in the flat was the single peacock blue wall in the bedroom, but that was promptly covered over again with the original hateful ochre.
Thus, by the time the leaves on the trees had begun to redden and curl, and the wind brought with it a sharp chill to usher out the summertime, Daniel had found himself in New York. He had visited the city twice as a kid during the Christmas holidays, but he had been young at the time and the only recollection he had left was the blurry memories of twinkling lights and the bustle of suits and thick coats wherever he went. The skyscrapers, theatres, stadiums and shopping centres were new, unexplored terrain that left Daniel feeling dwarfed and overstimulated.
For the first few weeks he didn’t leave the borough of Manhattan, and hardly stepped out of the penthouse at all, except to accompany Armand on one of his walks through the darkened streets. Not that the Vampire had minded; he clung to Daniel nearly as tightly, like the man might have grown bored of him in those early days and left.
They found plenty of ways to pass the time in their new found domesticity. For one, the large penthouse was decorated in a monochrome, minimalistic fashion that gave the rooms a polished yet gloomy impression. Daniel had convinced Armand they should redecorate, and for a while the space was abuzz with tradesmen, painters, and interior design consultants.
The finished product was to both men’s tastes with elements of each of their personalities: black walls with little overhead lighting, a plethora of warm abstract lamps, tall ferns, striking analogous wall hangings and a deep conversation pit with burnt orange upholstery. The fiery colour palette was mostly Daniel’s idea; he had discovered a fondness for shades of orange and yellow in the time he spent lost in the Vampire’s eyes.
*****
The days continued to grow darker and harsher, but Daniel hadn’t noticed because he hardly ever woke before sunset these days. In fact, he had trouble keeping track of time at all now that he lived as the living-dead do.
He noticed Armand didn’t sleep very often, and he didn’t hunt like Daniel had expected him to. Willing meals were sent up to the penthouse, drained in moderation, and paid before leaving again. Sometimes they even went out together, the Vampire and the reporter, dining at popular restaurants across the city, or watching a film at the theatres. Armand had business meetings, and photoshoots, and friends- yes, human friends who were none the wiser of the predator that sat across from them wearing a rehearsed smile.
There was no living with a savage, blood thirsty, beast of the night; Daniel’s life with Armand was the life of a socialite, and he found Armand’s curated performance in the role to be more unsettling than anything else regarding his vampirism.
That was what tonight was, an obligatory role in maintaining the image of the young model and entrepreneur: a New Year’s Eve party, one of thousands in this city alone. And Daniel is having a great time so far, he’s already had plenty to drink and his favourite song is playing right now…
If only…
Not a second after Daniel thinks it, the squeak of the door handle twisting downwards signals the entrance of someone else behind him. A burst of music and ecstatic voices flood out onto the balcony, but it is quickly shut away again. Four heeled strides ring across the stone.
You called, beloved. Hums a silky voice in Daniel’s mind.
The corners of his mouth curl upwards, and he turns his head to the man who appears beside him.
“Boss.” He greets the Vampire affectionately. “Been missing you.”
An amber gaze slides over Daniel, taking in the pink flush of his face, sloppy grin and relaxed posture.
“You are drunk.” Armand hums.
“Oh yeah, thoroughly. Still standing though, aren’t I?”
Armand scoffs as if to say ‘barely’, and tilts his head to the side to get a better view of Daniel’s neck, specifically the veins there. A small tremble of anticipation runs through the man.
“You want to taste?” He whispers suggestively, eliciting a hum of longing from the Vampire.
“You know I do…” But not right now.
The Vampire finishes his sentence telepathically, and Daniel nods in agreement.
There are too many people around, and the balcony doors are glass. Their party guests are discreet enough to respect whatever arrangement they imagine is going on between the men; hell, plenty of them have similarly unorthodox relationships of their own; but seeing Armand sink his teeth into Daniel’s neck and drink his blood… that might be crossing a line of social acceptability.
Instead the pair settle into companionable hush; non-specific, fuzzy thoughts flicking between the two as they simply stand admiring each other in the glow of the city lights. Armand appears like an angel, the night casting shadows to accentuate his cheekbones, his lips, beneath his jaw. He has opted for a dark plum velvet suit blazer and trousers, slim fitting and elegant, with a tight cashmere silk button down, cream to contrast the purple. The colours make him look regal, complementing his dark complexion and giving him a warm glow.
That’s another thing Daniel’s keen reporter’s eye had picked up on; Armand, always conscious of how others perceive him, disguises his obvious supernatural glow (and lack of blood flow) by dressing in colours that give him a natural warmth and blush, all part of his mortal disguise. It doesn’t make much of a difference though, Daniel is sure that he always looks this beautiful and vigorous, no matter what he wears.
You have it on. Daniel thinks with a smile, as his eyes are drawn to where light from the party catches on the thin gold chain around Armand’s neck.
It was a gift from Daniel for Christmas, modest, but the Vampire had been elated. Apparently he and Louis hadn’t celebrated the holiday in over a decade, when they had indulged the spirit of the season two years in a row for pure novelty.
“Of course.” Armand chuckles, bashfully adding “It means a great deal to me, beloved.”
Beloved. I like it when he calls me that. Daniel thinks to himself.
He doesn’t even care if the Vampire really loves him, because for the longest time he thought he would never find love; now he’s content to simply be swept up by the affair.
Realising he has slipped into a doting smile, the reporter scrambles for a response to fill the stretching quiet between them.
Can’t let the Vampire know how soft I am. That doesn't seem smart.
“Well, I just thought seeing as you can never seem to find the top two buttons on your shirt, I might as well get you something to display there.” It’s a clumsy tease, but Armand knows how drunk the reporter is so he laughs anyway.
“I don’t see you having any problems with how I wear my shirts. Or do you think I never catch you staring?” He counters sportively.
“Shut up!” The man giggles, then in a tone of mock awe he mumbles “They’re just the nicest tits I’ve ever seen on a guy, is all…”
Armand throws his head back to hide a grin, placing a hand on Daniel’s chest to shove him back playfully.
“You are truly a poet, beloved.” And I know you like it when I call you that, that is why I do.
Daniel stiffens at that, embarrassed the Vampire heard the thought.
He had been trying to learn how to block the link, like putting up a privacy screen because not everything needed sharing between them. Armand had tried to reassure him that most of what Daniel thought just sort of got filtered out, and that he would never purposefully mean to be invasive, yet still he showed little restraint when it came to the reporter’s mind.
Sometimes Daniel could feel him reaching through the telepathic link when they were apart, when he thought Daniel might be distracted with a book or his work. Shadows that stretch like fingers, raking through his brain, scattering the notions and perceptions there. They sift through discreetly, like they are looking to uncover something in particular, but then Daniel’s awareness becomes apparent, like a beam of light illuminating their suspect activities, and they slink away again with no explanation.
What upsets Daniel about this, is that it doesn’t work both ways. He isn’t a Vampire, and the tricks of telepathy elude him; Armand knows nearly everything about the man, maybe more than he knows about himself, but the immortal is shrouded in mystery. Daniel trusts Armand more than anybody, but sometimes he feels like that’s because he has to. And sometimes it seems Armand doesn’t trust him in return, not nearly enough. The tilted power balance works in bed, but in their daily lives… it’s not so sustainable.
But now isn’t the time to bring that up, so he just dryly chuckles “Dammit.”
Armand smiles sweetly, and if he is aware that his lover is suddenly put out, he chalks it down to the intoxication. Once more appraising the man, he remarks, “You are shivering, beloved. The party isn’t out here, so why don’t we rejoin our guests, hm?”
Daniel sways into Armand, fingers instinctively rising to meet the soft skin at his temples. A couple of midnight curls have slipped from their style, and he pushes them back behind the Vampire’s ears gently.
Armand moves to hold him back, hands creeping into his wax leather jacket to caress above his ass. Their noses are inches apart, and it is strange because Armand isn’t currently breathing. His embrace is lukewarm at best, not uncomfortably cold, but not the reassuring heat that Daniel’s brain would recognise as something living. It doesn’t bother him though, because he is too busy being swallowed whole by the Vampires eyes.
Two lanterns in the dim lighting on the balcony, radiating enough warmth to make up for his cool touch. Liquid gold slips through those irises, weaving like a braided river through rocks of amber, framed in tawny. Daniel would feel small suspended in their gaze, except they have a safe, almost sedating effect on him.
A little involuntary sigh of contentedness escapes the reporter’s lips, and for a moment his whole world is reduced to the space between himself and Armand. Then reality storms in and forces its way between them again; a sharp rap on the balcony sends both men recoiling from each other, heads snapping to the source of the knocking. A tall woman with mahogany skin and a sleek pixie cut hovers on the other side of the glass, waggling a long finger at Armand and beckoning him inside. Daniel recognises her as Lisa Miller, one of his lover’s model friends.
The Vampire breathes a sigh through his nose, and offers a slanted smile to the reporter.
“I’m sorry, but it seems my hostly duties are required.”
Daniel nods sympathetically, and agrees “We should get inside anyway; you were right before, I am getting cold.”
Armand turns and strides ahead of Daniel, opening the door and once again letting the sounds of the party escape. He has barely stepped inside when Lisa starts animatedly whispering to him, and whatever scandalous topic she is referring to piques the Vampire’s interest enough. He laughs, first astonished, then with cruel mirth. The pair are across the parlour in seconds, disappearing down the hallway towards the front door. Daniel watches them go before resigning himself to pour a glass of water and mingle.
The bar is in the next room, it’s part of the spacious kitchen and dining open floor plan, and yet when Daniel manages to weave through the crowd he finds the room packed to claustrophobic extents. Shouldering past men and women he doesn’t recognise, he hardly notices when a large hand closes on his shoulder, the person it belongs to having to call his name twice in order to get him to turn around.
“Daniel!” The man says a third time, and the reporter instantly recognises him as Thomas White, another of Armand’s colleagues, though he is on much less friendly terms with White than he is Lisa Miller.
The man stares up at him with those disproportionately small eyes, dwarfed by his bulbous jaw and chin. His hair is in a stupid quiff he must think hides the thinning, but it really doesn’t. Daniel realises he is grimacing, and slips into an unenthusiastic smile instead. Maybe White will think he’s just very drunk and out of it, instead of figuring out how much Daniel actually dislikes him.
It seems to work, because the model doesn’t hesitate to press on, “Great party man, really great! And you got the girls here tonight too!”
He laughs sleazily after the last remark, and Daniel might be grimacing again.
“Glad you like it, Thomas.” He nods, attempting to twist his way free of the grasp on his shoulder and failing.
“Tell you what, I’ve got Saskia waiting for me over by the bar. We were gonna do some lines, want in?” His words tumble out heavily, as all the sound in the room fades away.
Daniel’s heart is in his ears, and he slicks his palms against his pants. The idea of the drug is all it takes to get him buzzing, his stupid tunnel vision returning and he is once again the addict obsessing over when the next fix is coming. The pit of guilt and self-reproach forming inside of him should really be enough to get Daniel to decline the offer, but just like he always has, he pushes those feelings deep, deep down where he doesn’t have to acknowledge their painful existence.
“You have blow?” He croaks with a dry mouth.
He should really just get the glass of water he came in for and go. But now Thomas is grinning.
“Oh yeah, good shit too apparently. I don’t know. The girl got it from someone at a party she was at before this, but she’s done a few bumps already and she’s fine. Playing a little bit loose with it tonight, but uh… I’m not compainin’!” Another dirty laugh from White.
Daniel pauses for a second, not to decide- no, he’s already made up his mind- but to make sure he can’t feel Armand up in his head again. He doesn’t openly judge Daniel for his… occasional needs, but there is unspoken disapproval. If he’s doing this, he’d rather not let Armand catch on, save him the whole patronising sighs and glances song and dance.
The Vampire isn’t active on the telepathic link, so he’s probably safe.
“Yeah man, thanks.” Daniel accepts the offer with a broader smile.