Work Text:
There is blood on Daniel's shirt. It's a nice one, a red floral, and the dark bloodstains hardly harm its color palette. All-in-all, things could've gone worse.
When he saw Raglan James across from him in the bowling parlor, he'd been convinced he was a goner. A mid-tier vampire, still weak from cooking in the sun, against a century-old shady organization like the Talamasca? No chance.
But perhaps Raglan saw him as little more than a cog in the machine, not worth pursuing, because when he pushed the man to his knees and went for the door, only a few bullets found his chest and nobody ran after him. It truly seemed Lestat was all they wanted to take.
Which was alright. Daniel would have loved to see the asshole die in that bowling bag, but he wasn't about to risk his own life to see him go. A part of him suspected that Armand had never truly believed their plan would work. It was nothing but a feeble attempt to stop the inevitable - the Great Conversion was already in full swing. Not even Armand was delusional enough to think he could stop it.
I wonder, if he got out as well, Daniel caught himself thinking. What a ridiculous thought - worrying about Armand fleeing unharmed from a mess he caused. It seemed this was all the 500-year-old vampire managed to do every single time.
And even if the Talamasca slaughtered him, why should Daniel care? Armand was a liar, manipulator and a psycho. Daniel was better off without him. Better off without his pretense of loving the fledgling he chose to abandon, and better off without the havoc Armand continuously wreaked upon his existence.
Daniel had kept his distance since Armand's confession and the start of their collaboration, not geographically but certainly emotionally. He wasn't equipped to deal with Armand's "love", not with its obsessive nature nor its messed-up history. His maker was a means to an end, nothing more. Thanks to him, Daniel got to see Lestat's surprised expression as he lopped off his head and once he learned how to walk in the sun without turning crimson, he'd be done with Armand and all his bullshit.
Keep telling yourself that, said a voice, buried in the back of his mind, but Daniel ignored it.
Instead, he focused on walking as normally as possible, to avoid attracting the attention of random humans. It was already bad enough that he had to grip his chest with the force of a gorilla to stop any blood that could leave a trail. Armand had rented a room a bit out of town, in a hostel so inconspicuous, Daniel worried it might just draw attention again.
This worry was squashed, as he nearly missed the structure in his hurry. It truly was impossibly unremarkable.
When he entered the lobby, the receptionist squeaked in horror at the state of him. She started rambling, offering to call an ambulance for him, but Daniel simply waved her off and said, "Don't bother. I look fine. You're just paranoid."
The sudden way the receptionist's eyes dulled sent chills down his back. He had hardly been an upstanding vampire citizen the past two years, but despite all the murder and violence, the act of mind control still unnerved him. Perhaps it was because it had harmed him in the past, or perhaps he just didn't like ripping away someone's free will.
But it was either messing with the receptionist's mind or killing her. And Daniel preferred to let service workers live - their job was hard enough as is.
The hostel's only elevator was broken, so Daniel had no choice but to drag himself up several flights of stairs to their room on the fifth floor. After the whole sun-walking business, I'm getting that evil twink to teach me how to float.
He passed no one on the stairs, which Daniel was endlessly glad for, and after what felt like hours, he finally stood in front of the door to their room.
Exhausted and in pain, he still found himself hesitating. What would he do if the room was empty? Wait until Daddy returned? Go look for him, probably walking right into a trap in the process? He could just pack his things and leave, he supposed. Not let himself be engulfed further in Armand's insane plans and schemes.
And where would he go? What place was not infested with vampires at this point? Atlantis?
He sighed. It was no use. Stalling could only get him so far. It was time to face whatever waited for him inside. Armand or no Armand.
Gently, he opened the door.
Darkness. The lights were off. The blinds were lowered. Only the annoying red dot by the TV flickered obnoxiously.
He's not here. Daniel hated the way his heart sank at the realization.
Then, something stirred beneath the blanket of the singular bed, which was pushed into a corner to make space for Daniel's shitty travel-coffin.
"Armand?"
The blanket shifted a little.
"You are not dead."
Daniel let out a soft chuckle. "That depends on how you define dead. My heart's not beating, there's no need for me to breathe, I-"
"Alex betrayed us, did he not? The Talamasca... they knew. Someone told them."
Armand's voice was tight. Daniel nodded, although his maker had his back turned to him, and pulled up a chair to finally rest his legs.
"That seems to be the case. I doubt it was one of your minions." Daniel despised Armand's minions. They were the obvious result of a control freak, who had lost his grip on the situation, desperately trying to regain it at all costs. Also, they were endlessly creepy. "The doctor could've been in on it, too. Never trusted that guy if you ask me."
"Lestat survives, then?"
A long silence. Daniel considered how likely it was that Armand would kill him for failing the job. In the end, he settled on the fact that he might die and there was little he could do about it. A regular Tuesday for Daniel Molloy. "I assume so, yes. The Talamasca has his head and it seems they want him to do the concert. A dark day for rock and rockstars everywhere, I'm afraid."
Within seconds, the blanket lay on the floor and Daniel found himself looking up at Armand, now looming over him like a vulture. The hard lines of his face appeared sharper in the dim light of the room. His hair was disheveled and his eyes burned with the hatred of a thousand pyres.
"This is a joke to you," Armand noted sharply, "Just another idiotic scheme among a dozen others. Is that it?"
Daniel felt as though he should be getting better at anticipating Armand's outbursts, but the man was difficult to predict. At least nowadays Daniel managed to mask his shock instead of pissing his pants like he had done in the seventies.
He leaned back in the chair, unimpressed. "Serious? Oh, I was serious. Serious about seeing Lestat's smug face lie in the dirt and I did. Killing him would've been nice, sure, but hardly more than the cherry on top."
His response only served to make Armand more mad, his eyes bulging and the corners of his mouth drooping. He looked like a furious Furby. Far from the first time since he had reunited with his maker, Daniel was glad the man could no longer read his mind. The fact that his angry face reminded his fledgling of a children's toy would only worsen Armand's already volatile mood.
"You don't understand, Daniel. Now all is lost. Humanity is doomed," he said slowly, each syllable harsher than the one before.
Daniel laughed and the bitterness in it shocked even himself. "Humanity. Like you give a shit about humanity, Armand. Spare me the pretense, will you?"
Armand bared his teeth. "You know nothing of me. I spent centuries underground, trying to protect humanity from us vampires. To protect it from itself. I-"
"You only killed those that deserved it, yes, I am aware. Playing God and choosing who lives and who dies, you really are a true philanthropist, Armand." Daniel didn't know what exactly he wanted to achieve by mocking his maker's values, but he didn't feel like listening to his pretentious whining anymore. "And when Lestat offered you a way to make a show of openly killing your victims, you nearly hesitated before taking him up on his offer and continuing his murder theater for more than a century after he left."
"I hated every second of it."
"Of course, you did. Just like you hated every second you spent at Louis' side. And yet you did everything in your power to keep your place with him, to uphold the lie, for decades." Armand took a step back, his eyes wide. Daniel leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and smiled. One could almost mistake him for the man in power right now. "You know, Armand? Even after all those years I spent interviewing politicians, war criminals, business tycoons, and all other kinds of powerful sociopaths, you remain the most delusional self-pitying manipulative asshole I've ever met. It's remarkable re- urgh!"
Slender fingers wrapped around Daniel's throat, sharp nails digging into his skin. It was a surprisingly mild gesture, all things considered, seeing as cutting off a vampire's airways was hardly life-threatening, but it served as a stark reminder of the things Armand could do to Daniel without any effort at all.
A normal person would've taken this gesture, paired with the wild look in Armand's eyes, as a sign to shut up. But Daniel had always been a maniac, never knowing when it was time to chose silence. His vampirism had only exacerbated the issue.
So, despite the force applied to his larynx, Daniel pressed out, "Did you kill the girl?"
Armand's nose twitched and his grip on Daniel's throat loosened. Ha! Caught you off-guard there, boss. "What girl?"
"The one you hired to fuck with Louis' head. You brought her with you to the tribunal, didn't you?" Daniel said, a slight grin forming on his face.
"It wasn't a tri- I did not tell you of the girl."
"You didn't, yeah. But you know me, I'm kinda nosy. Can't blame me, it's my job. Once I heard that Louis somehow happened to stumble upon a girl that was a near perfect visual match for Claudia, I got curious. It wasn't difficult to connect her to you after that, I'm honestly surprised Louis couldn't. But I suppose he wasn't exactly in an inquisitive state of mind..." Daniel felt the grip on his neck slacken entirely, the soft hand slipping down to rest on his collarbone. His maker's uncertainty emboldened Daniel. "Seeing as she was a good piece of leverage to hold over Louis, you must've brought her along. What did you do to her? Cut off some limbs? Pull some nails? Or did you tell her to rest?"
Daniel wasn't sure what he expected Armand to do. Answer the question perhaps. Or maybe decide to rip out his fledgling's throat after all. But instead of taking either of those predictable paths of action, Armand collapsed. He slumped forward, burying his face in the crook of Daniel's neck and letting the entirety of his weight drop onto Daniel's lap.
For a second, Daniel was stunned beyond belief at his maker's display of weakness. Armand loved to feign submission, Daniel was painfully aware of this. But whenever he played at being a meek underling, there was this air of power to it, serving as a reminder that Armand was in full control of himself and everyone around him at all times. This very thing had been the reason for Daniel's outbursts whenever Armand tried to make his amends, because he could practically smell the sense of superiority in each of Armand's pretty and empty words.
But somehow now, in this dingy hostel room outside Montreal, all he smelled was desperation. All he felt was a young man clinging to him, like he was his only lifeline, one hand tearing at his collar, the other slung around his shoulders. It reminded him of his daughters, seeking reassurance after a nightmare, and his wives, looking to reconcile after a fight. Daniel had always felt lost whenever someone reached out to him for comfort. He was a broken man, there was no comfort his existence could bring to anyone. Yet somehow, he had always managed to stop the tears soaking his shoulders, to make puffy eyes scrunch up with laughter, and to share a warmth he didn't know he had.
Armand wasn't crying and yet Daniel put his arms around him anyway, pulling the older vampire into a proper hug. It was strangely intimate. Daniel's memories of his and Armand's relationship throughout the years were still scrambled and incomprehensible, but he was almost certain that they had fucked at least once in the past. Yet the feeling of Armand's narrow frame in his arms was unfamiliar, perverse almost.
Armand was one of the most powerful vampires in existence. He was a murderer, a liar, a sadist, not some sensitive boy looking to have his hair stroked gently. But Daniel's fingers slid through those raven locks like they were soft butter.
They stayed like this, for a strange amount of time, both perfectly quiet.
Eventually, Armand broke the silence. "She lives. Louis told me what I wanted to hear. I let her go."
Louis told me what I wanted to hear. Not Louis apologized, not Louis admitted he made mistakes, no.
Louis told me what I wanted to hear.
Daniel would never understand this man.
And right now, he didn't feel like he needed to understand him. He needed to hold the monster in his arms as close as he could. He needed his maker.
"What now?" he mumbled, face almost entirely buried in Armand's hair, "We failed to stop vampire Armageddon and made a lovely power couple our immortal enemies. Can't see this ending well for us."
"I apologize. I have put you in danger. Again."
"Oh, please. I would've tried to rip off Lestat's head sooner or later. Trouble tends to find me with or without you, boss."
Armand's head moved, causing Daniel to lean back until they were face to face.
"You seem to hate Lestat quite a bit. Did he do something to upset you?" Amber eyes stared at him with painfully earnest concern.
Daniel chuckled, certainly failing to seem nonchalant. "Nah. He's just a massive bitch. Can't stand his attitude."
The vampire Daniel fantasized about murdering pretty much anyone and everyone who dared to annoy him. He remembered the horror he felt at Louis' recounting of vampiric cruelty, how monstrous each atrocity appeared in his mind. But the Daniel shocked by the murder and torture of innocents was long gone and the being that had replaced him thrived on violence like it was fuel in his tank.
Sometimes, in moments of weakness, the new Daniel scared the remnants of the original Daniel. Those moments only ever lasted a few seconds and the anguish they brought was easily forgotten.
But even in his new form, Daniel struggled to understand why he hated Lestat the way he did. Was it because of the abuse Louis had endured at Lestat's hand? Because he was a smug asshole, full of unearned confidence? Because the world seemed to bend over backwards to turn him into an immortal legend? Or because he's a deeply insecure narcissist, who's never had a healthy relationship in his life, who desperately desires to create art that might bring his life some meaning, who covers all his anger and pain with unfunny one-liners and mean quips, who fucked up the child he never wanted, who was bursting with anger at everything and everyone, most of all himself, who-
"Also his music is dogshit."
Armand smiled, his usual smile, all controlled and not entirely able to reach his eyes. "Yes. It is."
His somber expression did something to Daniel's dead heart and before he knew it, his hands were cupping Armand's face. The older vampire let out a shaky breath. "You should get away from here as soon as possible. Lestat will come for you," Armand whispered.
"Come for me? Strange way to pronounce us, boss. Seeing as we've both fucked up royally, I'm not the only one with a target on my back."
"I can't leave now, not with the Great Conversion on the horizon," Armand said, like Daniel was ridiculous for even suggesting it, even though he'd done the same thing seconds earlier.
Just a few minutes ago, his dismissal would've had Daniel insulting his maker like he always did, but it seemed that he'd lost his bite. He sighed softly and pulled Armand's head closer until their foreheads bumped together. "That's a good point. Seems like I'll be staying as well, then."
Weakly, Armand looked at Daniel with those awfully big eyes of his. "I know you want to continue walking in the sun, Daniel. But this is not worth it. Hide somewhere safe and if I survive I promise I'll find you and-"
He gasped when Daniel sunk his teeth into his lower lip, but his fledgling hardly cared. All this nonsense coming out of his maker's mouth, someone needed to stop it. Blood trickled down Armand's chin, when Daniel pulled away. His mouth hung open in a shocked little "o". It looked positively endearing.
"How very typical," Daniel said self-satisfied, "You turn me into a monster, abandon me, shove me into all your conflicts, and now you suddenly get cold feet and tell me to fuck off. What is this? Some sorta reversed psychology shit? I'll save you the effort; I'm not leaving."
Daniel expected some pushback for his insolence, but for the second time today Armand threw him off his game entirely.
A small giggle, then a chuckle, then Armand was laughing, laughing like Daniel had never seen him do, shoulders shaking and all. It was infectious.
"Is this it? Have you finally gone insane?" he mused, trying not to laugh along.
Armand took a deep breath, before grabbing Daniel by the collar and smiling. "I've gone insane centuries ago, my beloved. Don't you worry."
Daniel, award-winning journalist and author Daniel Molloy, was at a loss for words. Here he was, a nearly 73-year-old man made vampire, face-to-face with his over 500-year-old maker, the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes on, and there were no words at his disposal. He was a man of words not action, but for once there was no need for words and only one action worth considering.
He closed the distance between them. Armand's lips still tasted of iron, but Daniel wasn't starving for blood anymore, he was starving for affection. Starving for the man that killed him.
Armand.
The older vampire responded in kind, gasping into his fledgling's mouth as he scooted closer in his lap. Daniel's hands found his maker's back and brought him even closer. This is it. This is where I belong. Where he belongs.
After minutes, perhaps hours, it was Armand that pulled away, causing Daniel to let out an undignified whimper. Long, pretty fingers caressed his cheek and he looked up to see his maker smile at him, amber eyes glowing.
"You know, my maker was always obsessed with creating a masterpiece," Armand said gently, "He never quite managed to do it. He taught me to paint as well, but I wasn't any good. I thought I'd never create something so perfect as to call it a masterpiece, so why even bother?"
"Armand..."
"I fear you won't believe me, even as I say it out loud, but I want you to know this: You are my masterpiece, Daniel Molloy."
Daniel tried to remember that beneath those wide eyes, those parted lips, those flushed cheeks, lay a liar, a murderous manipulative liar, but he failed. All he could see was the beauty of a man trapped in time.
A grin spread across his face. "A masterpiece, huh? You know what? I think I like that title: Armand's little masterpiece. That ought to ruffle some feathers."
Armand placed his raven-locked head on Daniel's shoulder and sighed. "It's always about causing trouble with you, Daniel."
The younger vampire placed a kiss on his neck, before whispering, "And you hate that?"
Armand's answer would have been inaudible to a human. To Daniel it was crisp and clear. "I fucking love it.”