Chapter Text
Armand knew he was getting sick, and he’s been trying his best to prevent it. On the way back from work last week he’d bought vitamin C supplements and orange juice, as well as some Dayquill and cough drops. Hopeful that it would be enough to keep the infernal illness from developing.
“Hhh’eshuh, ‘ksh!”
Obviously, he was wrong. He stifles the sneezes into a fist rubbing his nose to calm the itch. The lone sneezes from a few days ago have turned to doubles, which would soon become fits.
“Á tes souhaits” Lestat says, sauntering into the room. He’s dressed casually, he was probably recording today. God awful nepo baby bullshit, as Daniel would call it.
Armand wishes he too, was cloaked in cotton jersey knit instead of a starched white button up and slacks. The thought of changing sounds exhausting though.
“Armand? My love? I asked you something, mon ange.”
He blinks, shaking his head, as if that will clear his mind. Right. Lestat asked him a question. What was the question? He can’t recall.
“Sorry,” Armand sniffles back the wetness encroaching on his upper lip. “Kindly repeat yourself?”
Lestat sighs, and flops back on the couch next to him. Drama queen. “Daniel and Louis offered to pick up dinner, what would you like? They texted.”
“Oh, I must have had my iPad on ‘Do Not Disturb’.” He didn’t. It would be too humiliating to admit that he’d zoned out and missed many a text from his beloved Daniel, and dear Louis.
He responds in the group chat saying that they can get him some soup, he’s not very hungry and the thought of solid food scraping its way down his tender throat makes him want to gag. Daniel hearts his message and Louis replies with, “Okay baby.”
Baby. Louis only started calling him after Daniel and Lestat reentered their lives. He rather likes being Louis’s baby.
Lestat puts on a shitty reality TV dating show, Love is Blind, maybe? Armand pillows his head against Lestat’s shoulder.
“Tired, mon amour?”
Armand nods before he can think much of it. Fuck, they’re going to know.
Lestat makes a soft cooing sound, he wraps an arm around him, so Armand’s head rests on his chest. “That’s alright, my dear diableton,” lips brush against Armand’s curls, “Rest, now.”