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Lestat never called first. Some hysterical notion of eighteenth century genteel rules of engagement and a deep seated fear of refusal, meant he'd text until the sun came up. But when questioned about his inability to just hit the call button he’d chirp about how rude it is to arrive unannounced, joking blithely about how vampires needed an invitation? Non?
So, when a combination of frenzied telepathic equivalent-to-voicemails from Daniel and some actual, unintelligible, french laden, voicemails from Lestat reached Louis who had been having a lovely, cozy night in. He battled his curiosity for what couldn’t have been more than mere minutes, before resigning himself to the only thing he was ever going to do and called Lestat back.
He didn’t answer, this wasn’t atypical, Lestat liked to barter for his attention when he was feeling high, usually post performance. liked to wave his fame in Louis' face with texts linking provocative social media videos and articles about his sexcapades in hotels, in clubs, in cars, and then he’d scorn Louis' attention once he had it, affecting the appearance of someone much too busy to even speak to Louis. Sometimes the following evening he’d shoot a text back, ‘Mon dieu beloved, I’m too busy these days!’ Or ‘You’ll have to go ask Christine for my availability if you want to talk my dear.’
He seemed to scramble with the prospect of actually having Louis in reach, the bubbly combination of adoration and anger fizzling out, floating away into indecision. Leaving Louis wise to the best course of action, never fucking responding. A lesson in Lestat he knew all too well and hated that much more for it. They hadn’t had a real conversation, let alone seen each other in months.
Reaching for their telepathic link with a sigh from the bottom of his stomach, an iron grip on his patience, resigned no matter what happens next to abandon his comfortable solitude he sent Daniel a message.
“What do you mean, is he with me?”
“Louis” Daniel shot back, apparently so relieved he’d entirely missed the part where he answers the question.
“Why would he be with me? If he ran off you should know better than to freak out by now, you’re supposed to wait 48 hours before submitting a missing persons report”
Louis in his eternal and ever misguided hope was attempting levity, where Lestat was concerned. There was after all, no point in getting worked up over someone functionally immortal, the sun wouldn’t be up for hours, furthermore Lestat was like a cat, he always landed on his feet. One hundred odd years of knowing him had only proved how incorrigible he was, better not to give up an inch of attention.
“Louis, hey! Look man, he flew off there was this girl-“
Untinterested, as ever, at the prospect of hearing about whatever girl Lestat was fucking he pushed a little harder.
“You’re an all powerful vampire now Daniel, I’m not taking over baby sitting because you lost his ass”
“No Louis, hold on, there was this coven they poisoned him, they nearly took his head off!”
Despite the apparent urgency of the situation, there was another feeling coming through their link, a dawningly familiar one for Louis and Daniel both. The mode of intoxication may have changed, yet there was a phantom acrid burning in his nose, between his eyes it was as if Daniel who’d spent enough time on coke as a human was now unable to separate the accustomed physical ache, and he was talking lightning quick. Louis was exhausted already but knew, at least, what he was dealing with now. Not that Daniel fared very well in his care the last time he was high, his mind supplied.
“Slow down, just reconfirm for me where are you guys tonight?” Now that he could attribute some of the anxiety in Daniels voice to the drugs, the panic was receding.
“Detroit” He knew that already, he was the majority owner of the godamn hotel Lestat was supposed to be staying at.
“Okay, And what happened to Lestat?”
“He ate a coven member and jumped out of a window in front of everybody” Daniel sounded a little too excited about this, Louis' fist came up to his forehead.
“...and that’s how you lost him?”
“Yeah Louis we got it on video it’s gonna look amazing in the documentary, they evacuated the party, but he went right through a window! eighth floor! Can you believe it? the absolute diva!”
Oh Jesus sufferin Christ. Louis didn’t really know who he was trying to fool, himself, or Daniel who had predictive qualities as a human and now had been made into a potential bloodhound by the mind gift. Both of them knew equally well this information was enough to get Louis moving, but still he hoped he achieved a steady delivery when he asked, grabbing his coat, his car keys. “What about the Detroit coven?”
“Dead” Daniel said proudly “I saved Lestat!”
"Saved?” Louis echoed resolutely not spiralling, sure you did pal, he thought. Daniel apparently picked up on his doubt, just like he would have if he’d been sitting across from him, horrible, attentive, journalist that he is.
“Seriously Louis” he said, boastful. “They had him on knees before we got there, they were trying to take his head off, Lestat practically owes me his immortal life.”
That did it.
Louis was all at once concerned and furious. The image of a bloodied Lestat, brought low, flashed in his mind like it had a hundred times before in all shades of emotion, and they had drugged him? Louis was beginning to feel sick, their reunion a few years ago had shaken that godlike image of Lestat, unkillable, untouchable, now he saw the boy inside the man, where he once didn’t see a man at all. He should’ve acquired better security at the hotel, he could’ve come to the show, Daniel should have called him in earlier, he wasn't far.
He called Lestat again, no answer. It was a long time and absolutely none at all, numb as Louis was to the world before Lestat called him back. He’d amused himself by flinging between self loathing for coming running, and self hatred that he’d let something like this happen in his own hotel. And then just outright absolution for himself and hatred for Lestat, Louis didn’t ask for any of this. Regardless he answered the phone before the ring tone could shift notes.
“Lestat, Hello?”
“Oh Louis” he was scarily unlike himself, his voice deep but timid, melodic through the car speakers.
“Hey” He considered how to play this, the Lestat he knew who could be relied upon, always, to give in to his desire to be near to Louis, had been putting up barriers as of late. And Louis had found himself too cowardly to make demands and face being ignored, it would shake him, to be refused by Lestat. So, it was a familiar path he ended up on now. “Lestat what were you thinking? Jumping out a window?”
Lestat of all things, giggled, christ this might be a phone call instead of a telepathic one, but all the same Louis could feel that he was fucking blasted. Louis felt very strongly he was the only vampire he knew capable of being an adult.
On his knees, about to cut his head off! Flashes of a bloody Lestat in 1132 Royal St. Ran through him, it was like being submerged in ice water, Louis adjusted his grip on the wheel.
“Lestat be serious, please, what happened? Where are you now?”
There was another bought of manic laughter, it broke off with a gasp “Ah Louis, sweet of you to call… but I must be going, my dear Maman is visiting, you don’t need to concern yourself” Well he was talking, and inside presumably, so alive, he could shoot Daniel a message that Lestat seemed fine and take the out. Hallucinating his mother of all people, but he’d sleep that off, and he clearly wasn’t going to be receptive to pity.
“No wait, Lestat” eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, Louis found himself frightened at the thought of the call ending, he resigned himself further. Took a fortifying breath in. “Please, I want to see you”
“Worried about me suddenly, are we?” came Lestat's voice through the sound system, bitter and mirthless.
“Yes”
“How trite, you needn’t be, I’m fine” and he sounded like it too, he’d gotten a grip on his anger again, and it had steadied his cadence, he sounded like himself.
“I know you are” call his bluff Louis thought, “I know you don’t need me to worry but I need to see you” and then channeling all the beguiling tenderness Armand was so adept at wielding, he added. “Please, I can wait until you’re done with your Maman I just want to know where you are, that you’re safe” The tower of cards fell in on itself, Lestat was always an indulgent lover. On rare occasions he’d claim he was feeling wicked, wanting to hear his Saint Louis beg, only to give in the moment he achieved his goal. Unable to bear it, and then he’d lavishly make up for his errors. Lestat had hardly ever known restraint, scarcely able to tell him or Claudia the word ‘no’, when asked nicely, thankfully this still remained true.
“Of course Louis” came Lestat's voice, as breathless and timid as it had been when Louis had answered the call, he spoke as if he was in a gallery, all hushed whispers. “Mon Saint Louis, my muse, mon Ange” If Louis were a betting man, he’d say Lestat was having visions, he couldn’t bring himself to feel smug about puzzling that out, it was that he recognised that wishful tone from his own dark years. But he knew now, what his next move would be.
“Yes, it’s me, I’m coming to get you, you just have to tell me where you are Mon Cher” Lestat hiccuped,
“A motel”
“in Detroit?”
“Non ah, Windsor” Despite himself, despite the delicate dance that was this conversation and Lestat's state of being, Louis laughed.
“You fly that far?” Lestat didn’t reply for a long time, he seemed to be breathing steadily through the line though, so Louis was content to wait. He was about to ask if Lestat was still conscious when there was a scuffling noise, a lock disconnecting and suddenly the call cut out. For Lestat, who no matter the severity of their arguments had never failed to whisper ‘Bonne nuit’ over the lid of Louis' coffin at night. This was alarming, still Louis held fast, he had a destination in mind, Lestat could be worse off he reasoned, things weren’t dire, he’d only be another thirty minutes, maybe his phone died, Lestat would be fine. He shot Daniel a quick “on my way to him” and was returned a message of
“Great, tell him Christine is going to kill him if you don’t!”
He wondered how bad the damage was, and what the hell his next shareholder meeting was going to look like.
Twenty minutes later found Louis prowling slowly down the streets, a lone pair of headlights on the hunt for a familiar heartbeat, it wasn’t too hard, there were only a handful of motels. There was only one close enough to the edge of town that could have facilitated an area for Lestat to land.
Before he would have waltzed in, most likely thrown a wad of cash at the poor receptionist if not outright eaten her, Louis snuck a glance through the glass doors from the safety of his fancy sedan, no she seemed okay, small mercies.
He parked in a tidy little corner of the lot, safely tucked away from the other cars, so no one would be scratching his with a stray door, which was by far the most well kept in the lot if not the town. Then walked along the balustrade, catching glances through windows and snippets of conversations, until.
Stattico feminine moans could be heard coming through the door, he couldn’t hear Lestat, and yet he knew better than to write off this room as a strong contender. He put his back to the door, closed his eyes and let his head fall softly against it so as not to make a sound then listened intently, he was no prude, you can’t run an empire of whorehouses being one. It was Lestat's heartbeat he was searching for and sure enough, erratic and pounding as loudly as ever there he was behind this door.
There wasn’t any time for anger really, he knew Lestat, he knew better than to expect celibacy in his absence, this wasn’t anything like Antoinette, regardless of the emotions that stirred, hunting him down like this.
He just needed to see that Lestat was unharmed, deliver him back to Daniel, and then he could go back to his comfortable life. The poor girl had no idea what she was caught up in, Louis almost felt bad for her. So, he banged on the door once and said loudly
“Lestat? It’s Louis”
before pushing his way in, there was a woman, just as predicted. Eyes closed and head thrown back in pleasure from where Lestat had buried himself between her legs, kneeling, at the foot of the bed. He had one arm braced on the floor half holding himself up, the other wrapped around her thigh, the woman paid absolutely no attention to the intrusion. While Lestat, made to swing around and pay his attention to Louis, only to be stopped most of the way there by a manicured hand in his hair.
“Louis-“ Lestat's eyes had never been bigger, pupils blown out from the drugs, the arousal, and he looked a damn mess, shirtless and bloody, his hair was matted. Vampires, especially of Lestat's age, don’t bruise easy, yet his skin had a sickly yellow hue in some places, where there wasn’t blood on his face there was glitter and drool instead. “Louis!” Letstat tried again, all unmitigated awe. Then turned to the woman on the bed who still hadn’t so much as looked at Louis, he was closing the door behind him and didn’t much care what she did, he wasn’t here for her, Lestat though, muttered. “Maman, please.” Sure, Louis thought, weird kink, he hadn’t known about this one of Lestat’s, but he’d exploited stranger predilections as the owner of the Azalea. Louis felt nothing about it, more important was Lestat before him looking the picture of pity.
Louis eyed the woman on the bed who had made no movement, not even to cover herself, she had no shame clearly, maybe a very expensive escort? And managed, none too kindly.
“you’d best be going now.”
Hoping that some of that southern charm in his voice did the trick, she looked older, the voice had an effect on some people. Then choicely, he ignored her, kneeling beside Lestat on the floor. Lestat, who appeared to be having an out of body experience, glanced between the woman and back at Louis as if desperately trying to keep both in his field of vision.
“you’re here” he said dumbly, finally, and wow the phone call didn’t do justice to the wrecked quality of his voice.
The picture of what kind of night he’d had was emerging as Louis had the chance to glance around the room, Jesus Christ he’d bled all over the floor, the walls, the girl had looked fine, so it could only be Lestat’s blood, had he been throwing up? Was that the work of the drugs? And then his eyes caught the line of red across Lestat’s throat from where he sat in a heap on the floor, and any fight left in him went out like a light.
That tender part of himself, the torrid, exhausting emotions he’d been beating down with a vengeance for the better part of the drive here if not, his entire life won out.
He fell forward folding Lestat into his arms, Lestat looked so high he might not even remember this later Louis reasoned, as he allowed himself the closeness. He wrenched an arm over Lestat’s shoulder, cradling the back of his neck, when cool sticky blood touched his palm he pulled back to slice across his fingers so he could heal the wound.
They’d all need healing, ideally, but a sliced neck, non fatal injury notwithstanding, was too gruesome a sight for Louis. The action tender as it was, and loaded with memory evidently became another blow to Lestat's psyche, he fell into himself even further, retreating, staring at Louis, oddly still and eerily silent.
Louis didn’t know where to start, he was furious, he was beside himself with concern he never considered he’d see Lestat like this again after that windswept night in New Orleans. He frankly couldn’t believe Lestat was trying to have sex with someone right now. He ran his hands down Lestat’s arms, then his torso almost absentmindedly, smearing blood as he went, he found himself drawn to it. The image of Lestat veiled in a sheen of Louis' blood, clothing him in it, it became methodical, a balm for his mind, something he could do with his hands, and watch the cuts and bite marks begin to knit themselves together which was immensely satisfactory.
A few times Lestat tried to speak, he’d halfheartedly bat Louis’ hand away, then grasp it loosely so Louis couldn’t reopen the cuts on his bleeding fingers. He’d rock away, then lean into his touch, he’d murmur and look at the bed nervously where the woman from earlier hadn’t moved at all, did he drink from her? Was she asleep with exhaustion? Louis hoped so, then they could slip out of here without any explanations. He hadn’t meant to do all of this here, vampire healing wasn’t easily explained. Thankfully, despite no longer dripping with blood himself, he still looked a wreck, certainly not well enough to raise questions, he was a gruesome sight, what with the smattering of bloody finger prints and trailing lines Louis had left.
“Does anything still hurt, Lestat?” It’d come out softer than he’d aimed for, he didn’t really want to give Lestat any ideas about them being back together after this, despite everything, before the book had ruined it all, he’d been cautious about being this attentive, this emotional. Lestat shook his head, then after another disconcerting blank stare at the wall muttered.
“Non, no Louis but-“
“Great,” he began rising up off his heels, “I’m sure you’d prefer a real shower, but I’m thinking we can do that at my place, rest in an actual coffin, yeah? We’ve still got a few hours before sun up.”
No reply, okay, that’s fine, he went in search of a washcloth and was rifling through the abysmal motel bathroom when so softly a mortal might of missed it he heard,
“Gabriella, s’il te plaît, don’t ignore me, Maman.” Fuck exhausted, Louis rounded the corner of the bathroom adjoining door, he’d come full circle back to anger now. What the hell made Lestat think he was going to resume his weird sex now that Louis had arrived. He wasn’t right Louis reminded himself, be mad at him when he’s sober.
Only the woman on the bed had shifted somewhat, onto her side, eyes open now, and looking at Lestat where he was still kneeling. Head on the mattress, chin cushioned under the arm Louis had just healed, he’d shuffled along the floor to the side of the bed, so they were eye to eye now. And her eyes looked-
Numbness took over Louis as all considerations went out the window, there were too many pieces of the puzzle before him, he was calm again suddenly, breathtakingly horrifyingly, calm, there were no questions to ask, he didn’t want answers to anything right now, all he said was: “Lestat?” He couldn’t have been in this motel room for more than ten minutes, yet the pendulum swing of extreme emotions was ravaging. He wasn’t equipped for this, you never could be for anything when it came to Lestat, whatever this was, he wanted no part in it, he desperately wanted to be back on his couch, safe, like this room decidedly was not. Instead, rallying his hope, he made his voice gentle.
“Lestat I want to take you home, we can shower, sleep, I can drive you back to Detroit, you coming?” He was here for Lestat, he just needed to get Lestat on his feet and then he could wash his hands of this, go home and do anything but think about the possibilities of what tonight was, this didn’t have to be his mess.
“Lestat?” The pendulum swung back, his words came out steely now, “you gon get up?”
Uncountable, the number of seedy rooms reeking of sex he’d barged into In his past life, evidently the authoritative persona was renewable.
Lestat seemed unable to move from his crouch on the floor, Louis wanted him out, out this room and its realisations, out of this putrid yellow lighting, this wasn’t how Lestat looked damn it. For the first time the woman looked at Louis, there was a resemblance, the thought flitted through his mind, it wasn’t pressing, it could be a thought for later, once Lestat was safe.
Similarities aside, her gaze held nothing of the waterfall of emotions he was used to seeing in Lestat. She was, clearly, the only one entirely at ease in this room, she- Gabriella, apparently? Moved to sit up looking at Louis the entire time, entirely naked, how could Louis have ever assumed this creature was a human, she was too agile, too balanced, animalistic, as she maneuvered herself on the lumpy motel bed. She seated herself before Lestat, who was studying the bedspread, despondent.
She grasped his head with both hands, fingers tangling in his hair, she spoke to him, voice stern.
“Will you go?” Her accent didn’t sound like anything Louis had heard before, it was another piece of information to file into a cabinet, one with a key he wished he could throw away.
Lestat was silent, that might have been the scariest thing, more chilling even, than the newly revealed third vampire in the room. “Will you go with him?” She asked again,
Louis’ mind flashed all of things to Armand, chances were, this new vampire probably wasn’t, and couldn’t be rewriting memories. But the image of Lestat's head cradled in her hands brought him back to a similar dilapidated room in the seventies, the pendulum stopped, it had decided on anger.
“Yeah” he spat out before he’d decided entirely that he was saying it. “He’s leaving.” This wasn’t his mess an hour ago, he still wanted to run, he wanted to trust that Lestat, two hundred and sixty-five years old, capable, powerful vampire, wasn’t out of his depth here, that he could leave him with this woman. Finally, his most bitter regretful self sang, finally someone else in the world with the power to make him heed. Confronted with that reality though, he thought of what a gift he’d had and been squandering, who was she to be Lestat's North Star?
It was a privilege he’d become covetous of with shocking feeling. He didn’t care if she really was his actual mother, Lestat chose Louis, this was his mess, and he didn’t trust her to take care of it.
She didn’t fight for him, as Louis had thought she might, she didn’t sink her claws in him and refuse to let go, territorial like vampires could be. She, yet again ignored Louis completely, looked at Lestat and said, with less emotional resonance than anyone related to Lestat should have the capacity for.
“Go, if you must.”
Lestat stared at her even as Louis looped an arm around him and pulled him to his feet, his mouth open as if trying to speak but he didn’t manage it, what came out was too quiet, too unintelligibly French. Louis took off his coat, draped it over Lestat and pulled him towards the door, it wasn’t until they were most of the way across the lot, towards the car that Lestat began murmuring, not to anyone in particular.
“No, I haven’t seen her in so long, I just got her back.”
And that last piece of hope that she was a stripper, or an escort, even some vampire escort, died in Louis. So he said simply what he’d say to any drunk he was trying to placate, a skill he’d honed a lifetime ago.
“I know, but you’ll see her again some other night.”
The drive back was silent, and Louis in all of his cowardice basked in it, he knew there’d be no staying calm if he asked his questions. Beside him Lestat was adrift, though quiet didn’t equal involatile, old habits died hard where Lestat was concerned, even now Louis couldn’t smother the nerves of potientally setting him off. There was always tomorrow, but tomorrow he’d almost certainly be delivering Lestat back to his band and Daniel…
“Hey” Louis shot out at Daniel, none of his outward calmness made it into his message, he had the mental impression of Daniel skidding to a stop and nearly dropping his phone which he’d been using to text, before gathering himself, establishing the connection and replying.
“Louis? you got him?”
“Yes I’ve got him”
“Oh great because-“
“Daniel” Louis cut him off, impatient, his foot went down harder on the gas. “You hear anything about his Mom? for that documentary of yours” It really didn’t feel good, to go digging for information, especially with Lestat next to him, but what were secrets amongst vampires really? If Lestat was seriously going to tell the whole world his story, Louis could have a preview, Daniel was fair game.
“What? I mean, I know he loved her, it's hard to get a straight answer from him, and he’s been too busy refuting the more recent past, is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine” there was a worry, that he’d given too much, inadvertently set Daniel a task, Daniel was good. At some point in Dubai Louis had stopped bothering with attempts to direct his attention away, but it wasn’t just his past he was bartering with. It was already too late to tell Daniel there was nothing behind his inquiry, doing that would only ever have the opposite effect, he was after all, a bloodhound.
“So he hasn’t said anything of interest about her?” Louis knew the discomforting weight of Daniel's keen interest well, it floated across their link, tangible like water lapping at his ankles. He was in too deep already and he’d barely begun.
“No” Daniel said, slowly “He hasn’t”
“Okay” Tough, “I’ve got to go, but I’m taking Lestat back to my place, I’m gonna have to fill you in later” hopefully that would be enough to hold him for now. “Give Christine my number, tell her to call me about the hotel damages.”
Using the mind gift, in the presence of Lestat, talking about Lestat, had once brought uncanny glares from him and the itch of paranoia from those years in the thirties was ever present. But he didn’t so much as blink, just stared out the window, nasty frizzy hair made into a pillow against the glass, Louis suddenly couldn’t stand it, he tried his luck.
“You hungry?”
Nothing. Before, Lestat couldn’t be sure to be properly hearing him, or cognisant of where he was. Now it seemed the more likely possibility he was ignoring Louis deliberately, instead of lost he was beginning to look genuinely upset. The silence had been a blessing before, now filled the space with wrongness, since when could Louis not get a rise from Lestat?
“Once we get to my house I'm thinking we can shower together? There is a bath, but it’ll take a sec to fill up” Nothing.
“Would you rather we sleep in the same coffin, or not? I have a bed that’d fit both of us I’m sure”
He could’ve picked any topic, the weather maybe, could have just kept Lestat company with the kindest of steady mundane drivel. Instead, selfishly he wasn’t going to stop until he heard Lestat speak, prove there was more than a corpse laid beside him in this car.
“There’s blood in the fridge too, though I bet you’d rather we eat fresh, should we hunt together?”
Lestat really didn’t look up for a hunt, he’d probably be able to make himself do it, Louis had no intention of finding out, he just needed Lestat to say anything, anything at all.
“Take me back” Lestat was staring straight ahead now.
“Come again?” There wasn’t a chance in hell of this car turning around, Louis wouldn’t be responsible for delivering Lestat to his chosen method of self harm, this whole tour had already been an exercise in that, Leaving Lestat to his own devices, witnessing the spiral.
“I don’t need your coddling, Louis”
“Sure look like you do.” It landed, Lestat slammed his hand on the dash and swivelled gracelessly to sneer at Louis.
“What is this?” He mocked, gestured around, then at Louis. When Louis didn’t rise to it he tried again, earnest “I’d like to go back Louis, return me to my” he hesitated, then choked out “motel.”
“I’m not gonna do that Lestat, we’re nearly at my house”
“You wouldn’t understand” He might be right about that, “take me back to her!”
“Not tonight” The dissociative spell had broken, now Lestat was all long limbs and frustrated shuffling, he must be itchy with all that dried blood on him Louis thought a little smug, mostly sympathetic. Lestat huffed, and strained against the confines of the cab, stretched his legs up on the dash then put them down, ran his fingers along the buttons and gear stick. Louis let him, thankful that Lestat was at least occupied, if he really put in the effort to leave, he’d be causing much worse damage, so whatever, let him tinker with the buttons.
Sure enough just as Lestat was getting the hang of the air conditioning modes they pulled into the underground parking, finally Louis felt his body give up a modicum of the tension he’d been holding since he heard from Daniel.
Lestat was okay, the two of them had crossed uncountable lines between them, but a new truth was emerging with regards to each other. Lestat didn’t seem happy to be here, genuinely mad that Louis had interrupted whatever he was up to in that seedy motel, but he’d allowed Louis to whisk him away, however unwillingly. Perhaps it was thanks to the long years they’d both spent in the purgatory of hallucinatory grief, Insane with hope.
In spite of his anger about the book release, which bled into the following months where they’d stopped speaking, had things gotten to that point, of needing reassurance, nothing more than proof of life. Lestat wouldn't have denied him, and he couldn’t fathom, despite everything, being cruel enough to ever withhold the same in return. The closest they’d come was on a handful of windy nights before the book came out, when Lestat, who was getting the hang of texting, would reach out with needling pleaful messages, asking if he could hear Louis' voice. Louis, fresh off the memory of Lestat and his wooden plank piano, his needful garden district abode could only acquiesce, he’d shoot back a voice memo, barely a few sentences. They had solidified an understanding between them, they could be unimaginably cruel to each other but not to the point of withholding proof of life, this they understood. It was perhaps the only way they were above weaponizing their shared past.
He’d never been more thankful, for this pact that had allowed him to pull Lestat out of his original plans for the night, as he opened the passenger door and walked an, angry, distrustful, ball of Lestat past the threshold. Selfishly grateful for every opportunity to touch him, every reminder that Lestat was fine, would be fine. The anxiety come-down was beginning to crash over him and having Lestat in his palms was the only thing for it, so another selfish decision was made and he steered them both to the bathroom. Took his coat from Lestat and motioned for him to sit on the side of the tub.
Lestat glared from behind the veil of hair in his eyes, trepidatiously silent, wise enough not to squander the domesticity of the moment. When Louis began to get undressed so he could join Lestat, he looked up and saw with jolting relief that Lestat was starting to come back to earth, his gaze was marginally less foggy, and was gaining clarity with every inch he took in of Louis’ body. When Louis moved to turn on the water in the shower, Lestat's head tilted and his eyes tracked, cat-like, inhuman. The air was thickening with humidity when Louis asked over his shoulder.
“You gon keep those on?” Lestat, who had, in those years before Claudia's arrival, enjoyed basking in nakedness around their home, could often be caught lounging in nothing but an open robe. Finally dropped his gaze with uncharacteristic shyness, apparently not excited to remove his pants, and all the comfort Louis had rallied within himself plummeted with it, Lestat wasn’t right. He sat, crouched in on himself on the perch of the bath's edge, a fluffy mess of blonde waves and bloodied skin, Louis unhooked the shower head and stepped towards him.
“Whatever” he heard himself say, none of his fear made it into his voice “you can keep em.” He took Lestat’s hand from where it had been gripping his thigh, dead weight, much colder than the air temperature. And lifted it so it was in the spray of the water, Lestat didn’t like being cold, he thought absently, the shitty motel would’ve had warm water, he could have warmed himself up.
Louis studied the now pink water, as it collected in the grout lines, it trailed down the side of the bath, onto the floor. It helped to see that most of the wounds were healed under the dried blood, not all though. There were some over his shoulder, another above his hip, that still weeped blood pitifully. Louis had missed them in his earlier ministrations, still, the fact that they hadn’t healed by now was worrying, Louis could only curse his own selfishness, he should have made sure Lestat fed first.
Lestat, who had a naked Louis before him and was being perfectly perfunctory in his movements. His expression was dawningly familiar, the girls back on Liberty Street had been tough, tougher than the pigs and the soldiers they serviced, and mostly the madam took care of them. But if they wanted a night off it was Louis they’d have to come begging to, and he’d stand there, looking down on that faraway look in their eyes, knowing they’d hit their limit. Weighing his humanity against his image, avoiding their faces before his mind could conjure grace, he wasn’t proud of the innumerable times he’d denied them reprieve, knew even then that the little rest he could give em wasn’t gonna undo any damage.
So it didn’t matter how nice it was to have Lestat dripping water all over Louis’ floor. He closed the door on any possessive part of himself that stirred, that pavlovian response to seeing Lestat for the first time in over a year, he wouldn’t follow the patterns of their reunions, he wouldn’t profit off of Lestat’s bad night. Regardless, his mind reasoned, Lestat had little in common with any of those girls, and he’d be back to himself, just needed some sustenance.
That, Louis could provide.
So he brought his hands together, fumbling with the shower spray, to slice his wrist open and held it out under Lestat’s nose. Wherever he had been, in the no doubt headless, technicolour maze of his own mind. The scent of blood roused him forward, the second he puzzled out the source of the blood he batted Louis arm away, Louis immediately put it back, Lestat, immediately pushed it aside rougher this time.
“I don’t need it” he sounded bitter, hysterical honestly, if he’d have seen himself he might not have had the face to lie.
“Drink”
“I don’t want it” Louis finally laughed, meanly and pushed his wrist even closer to Lestats face, his blood smeared across Lestats nose, above his lip.
“for fuck sake, Lestat” he needed to get this over with, he wanted his Lestat back with desperation. Decided in his path of action, he sliced into the side of his neck before dropping the shower head altogether, it clamoured against the tile, Lestat almost jumped. Finally he looked up, Louis got both hands around his elbows, and pulled him to his feet. He folded him into an embrace, tucked his head in the crook Lestat’s shoulder, bared his bleeding throat, and then he said again. “Drink.”
Not for lack of strength of will, Louis knew it more vampiric instinct than anything that won him this round, still his relief was palpable as Lestat drank. He’d known Lestat too long to be fooled into thinking he was taking what he actually needed, knew he wasn’t drinking as deeply as he would any of his victims, there was restraint in his posture. And on the topic of Vampiric instinct having Lestat before him, it was hard to stay still and maintain politeness for such an intimate act. He was still completely resolute, not to take from Lestat tonight. But his thoughts must have been telegraphed as he ran his tongue against his fangs, because Lestat unlatched for long enough to say.
“no, mon Cher” his breath tickled “I would of course allow you to drink from me, but not tonight, ah. Bad blood” Fuck they had poisoned him hadn’t they, fuck. Fuck. Louis held him tighter, it may have hurt a mortal. Lestat didn’t seem to find this as distressing as he, apparently done drinking, giggled “I know, I can’t believe it!” He was slurring his words slightly, Louis prayed it was due to exhaustion, he sang out “It seems I have a bit of a blind spot for blood poisoning!”
Well, Lestat was energised, clearly the blood had helped but he wasn’t back. Louis at least, could let go of him and trust he’d remain standing on his own two feet, while he returned the shower head to the wall. With his back turned Lestat came up behind him and was on him.
“How do you want me?” Well this finally, was classic, not even a minute after some blood, and he was already trying to resume his activities from earlier this evening. Louis turned in the circle Lestat had made with his arms and stoically replied.
“Clean.” He was hopeful that would be the end of it, he didn’t want to seriously think about the emotional hoops he’d need to jump through to fuck Lestat tonight, there was so much he was avoiding thinking about already. Lestat seemed to legitimately bat his eyelashes for a moment, he leaned in close mouthing against Louis neck.
“My saint has been so kind to me tonight” he dragged his teeth across Louis’ skin to make his point. “I’d like to repay him, tenfold, would you allow me?” Louis felt nauseous, and he couldn’t even pinpoint why.
“Lestat” he managed.
“I am feeling much better” Lestat volleyed back.
“I don’t care” he was barely holding it together “I don’t care how good you apparently feel, you were fuckin poisoned, probably nearly died, you can wait.” That’ll do, louis cut himself off, don’t bring up what he saw in that motel, let Lestat think it’s only concern for his physical state keeping them apart tonight.
“oh” Lestat's face fell, he looked only a little sheepish when started speaking again. “I see, yes I know I made a bit of a mess of things tonight but I’m fi“
“don’t you fuckin say fine”
“I AM fine!” Louis finally got that rise he’d been angling for, Lestat was loud, especially reverberating in a bathroom without windows. “I was fine before, so thank you for your charity” the last word came twisted and mocking “but I don’t need it, I didn’t need it, in fact I can perform my duties perfectly well without it”
“Christ Lestat I don’t want anything from you tonight, get that through your sick head”
“Louis, Louis please, don’t lie to me not like you used to lie to yourself, hm?” Lestat gestured wildly at nothing, at Louis, then himself where he suddenly became aware he was still partially clothed, he remedied this immediately so the two of them had only steam between them.
“See,” Lestat said, why did he sound so angry? “If you want me to, i'll prove it to you”
He dropped to his knees before Louis, who was feeling truly ill, this wasn’t what he wanted for tonight, this was the opposite of what he wanted. There was a determination in Lestat’s gaze, a horrid expression, where his body was lax and his mouth was open, his eyes were misty, if one weren’t so well versed in how Lestat usually looked during sex, reverent, adulatory, then the obligation in his expression would have gone unnoticed.
Anyone but Louis wouldn’t have seen it, or perhaps it was Louis who had seen that expression more than most, in the faces of a hundred girls.
He wanted to pull Lestat up off the floor, but there would be no moving him, bullheaded and determined as he was. So Louis dropped to the tiled floor, held Lestat’s head back with a hand on his cheek, and said simply, though not harshly.
“Stop”
Lestat froze, where his eyes were glassy before, they now spilled over. “You shouldn’t have come for me” he choked out “if you did not want me”
“I want you”
“then-”
He looked rather desperately in need of a hug, but Louis held his gaze, barely an arms length away.
“Just not tonight” trying to make Lestat understand was going to be impossible, and god he didn’t want to upset him further. Louis decided it best not to give him an inch, he couldn’t concede to speaking of his want for Lestat sexually, or else he’d just try again and suck him off again.
“I want to wake up next to you tomorrow night, I want to know where you are” Lestat was a mess of sniffles and heaving choked off breaths, fuck letting him down gently, Lestat needed more than that, Louis gave in, stumbled forward for that hug, it seemed to calm Lestat down some, Louis kept talking, into Lestat's glittery hair now.
“Would you do that for me? I know you’re angry with me” here goes, Louis thought, Lestat needed a purpose, an anchor.
“It’s been hard since the release of the book, turns out you aren’t the only vampire I pissed off, some have been coming after me. I’d sleep better next to you, so I’m sorry I do want you, I’m just tired” It wasn’t a hard sell, Louis was exhausted, just not for the reasons he let Lestat assume. In all honesty no vampire that had come for him post-publishing, had ever been anything other than an inconvenience.
"Of course Louis" Lestat said into his shoulder,he was if anything, crying harder now, but that was alright, he was staying.
Still, the white lie, convenient and based in truth as it may be, had a real possibility of crumpling under scrutiny come the hard conversations of tomorrow.
There'd be a lot of explaining to do, and he’d have to answer to Daniel, and there was the matter of hotel damages. So maybe, thought Louis with measurable relief, there’d be little time to question Lestat about the identity of the Vampire Gabriella tomorrow.
Maybe he could put the matter out of his mind, let it loom, like the approach of the book's release date once had while he and Lestat played out a fantasy.
He would know at least that she wasn’t around, if he travelled with them and saw more of the tour. Maybe Lestat would be more amenable to that if he gave him space, let Letstat speak on it when he was ready.
There was a lot to think about, he’d have to sleep on it, but the hope was fortifying, this could work. For now, there was a more pressing issue, conditioning Lestat's frizzy fucking hair.
Lestat of course, bitched about it, he sniffled and twitched at every tangle, eventually he cracked, giggling, which spoke to his state of sobriety, as he begged Louis for mercy. Louis gave him a chaste kiss for his troubles, and was surprised when Lestat seemed utterly content with only that, he didn’t fall forward, pushing for more, he just smiled.
The hard won, content joy wouldn’t last, Louis knew that, but Lestat was safe, and Louis found he really did sleep better for it.