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The moment Armand had left the butchers, Rashid had approached him. He'd told him how Daniel had been ambushed by the Talamasca, the very organisation that he’d been affiliated with all those years since the interview. They’d betrayed him and Armand was too focused in his interrogation of Louis to recognise the signs.
Now, he can feel the slight panic from the other side of the bond, the flash of anger and the signature snarkiness that accompanies Daniel like a cologne. It grows in intensity the closer Armand gets to the bowling alley, his heart beating harshly in his chest. Daniel was inside, alone, and while he knew his fledgling was strong, Armand was still worried.
Armand had watched Daniel for years, stalked him from the darkness. He’d slept by him on soft, white sheets, with the sun falling across the boy's face. Never was Daniel not in his mind, running around like a puppy, yapping like Armand’s own personal commentary. And, during one of the most significant moments where Armand should have watched, he hadn't. It was a gross oversight, one Armand will not be making again.
The moment Rashid pulls over on the side of the road, Armand is ripping the door open hard enough to pull it from the hinges. He runs into the alley, bursting through the glass door, shattering it all. Shards of glass embed in his curled hair, but he pays no mind, his thoughts on only one thing: finding his boy. Armand’s vibrating irises flit across the room, searching until he finally sees his fledgling against the far side of the alley.
Daniel’s sitting with his back to the wall. His head hangs as he looks down at his shoes and his back is hunched over. He seems dejected, but in one piece. Armand lets out a quiet sigh of relief, slowing his pace as he begins to walk over.
“Daniel,” Armand calls.
The fledgling's head flicks up, eyes dilating, shock causing his back to straighten. He must have not heard Armand, which is slightly concerning, considering he’d smashed an entire glass door. Armand will circle back to that later.
“Armand,” Daniel replies back, his voice cracking. He looks worryingly small, curling up, shoulders hiking. It reminds Armand of the boy he met in 1973, how fragile he looked then, the way he’d shake in fear when Armand regarded him. “I… I lost the head.”And then it clicks.
Daniel thinks he’s going to be mad at him, for whatever reason he’s conjured up in his hectic, reporter mind. The thought pains Armand, but Daniel always had a bad relationship with expectations, pushing himself beyond what those expect of him for praise. Truthfully, he’s actually rather surprised Daniel didn’t go too far. In all aspects, he could call it a job well done, but Armand should’ve known he’d beat himself up about it after.
Armand, now standing in front of his fledgling, sinks to the floor and crosses his legs in a pretzel. His knee touches Daniel’s, sitting as close as he dares. “I am not mad at you, Daniel,” he says, and the boy looks to the side with that twitch in his lip that tells Armand he’s embarrassed. “I am… proud.”
Daniel scoffs. “Proud? Proud of what, the fact I screwed it all up?”
“No,” Armand says, shaking his head. He tilts his head just enough to catch Daniel’s attention, the boy's eyes meeting his. “Rather, I’m proud you’re unscathed. You are brash, too pleasing, sometimes. You showed remarkable restraint.”
“Hah, thanks,” Daniel says, rolling his eyes, deflecting in the way he usually does. He’s still closed off, perhaps because Armand is reading him well enough without the gift that he feels vulnerable. But it’s frighteningly hard to stop; every reaction Daniel gives is something Armand can pick apart. He’s spent the better part of fifty years figuring out how Daniel works — even in his old age, he’s frighteningly predictable.
“Daniel, if you’re worried some sort of consequence will fall on you because you’ve parted with Lestat’s head, don’t be. I’m just glad you’re in one piece,” Armand says, his hand twitching out to touch the boy's knee. “I’m… sorry I was not there to protect you.”
Daniel shudders, brief surprise flashing over his face. “Man, I— you don’t have to apologise. Come on, I’m fine, like you said. I’m not a lamb.”
“And there you have it. No one is injured, so please, cease your sulking,” Armand says, the corner of his lip quirking up into a smile, unnoticeable to anyone but Daniel. The boy's eyes light up and he straightens his back, the fear he's felt slowly ebbing away.
“Uh-huh. And for the record, I’m happy you’re okay too,” Daniel says, and Armand loses control of his expression just enough for a slither of hurt to pierce through his small smile. Daniel, as always, catches it. He stares, eyebrows furrowing, head tilting endearingly. “Did you… get what you wanted from him— from Louis?”
“Yes, I suppose,” Armand says, looking to the side. “In retrospect, I realised I was quite selfish, I should have navigated it differently.”
“Oh well, then that’s something you can do for next time, or something. Louis ain’t gonna, I dunno, come back with vengeance, even if he says he is. A seventy-year companionship holds some feelings — well, at least I hope it does.”
“Seventy-seven.”
“Hah. Hah,” Daniel remarks dryly, rolling his eyes again. “Still, you can probably find him again.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Uh, it’s Louis?” Daniel says, like it’s obvious. “And who would you rather want? Eternally 30-something or eternally 69. I think I know who the majority will choose.”
Armand lets that settle for a moment, seeing the slight change in Daniel’s character to something more guarded and small. Again, the boy doubts himself, doubts how much Armand wants him, has wanted him for years. And yes, Daniel is still painfully unaware of that part of his life, but he will gain it back, Armand is sure. He’d gained it back before, and he will again.
“I called you my companion to Louis,” Armand says plainly, letting the admission settle into the air, tension a thick blanket upon the pair's shoulders. “I’d like for you to be.” The admission causes a harsh thud in his chest, a break in the even pattern that betrays how much the words mean to him.
“I… might have called you my wife to the bowling guy,” Daniel replies, a hand rising to scratch at his hair, feeling awkward. It's as if he's recognised Armand's given him something and now he's repaying that back.
“Is that what you’d like me to be, Daniel? Your wife?” he asks, leaning forwards, encroaching on the fledgling's space, eyes wide and enquiring.
Daniel makes a soft noise. “You can be whatever you want Armand. You could do anything and I think I’d stick around,” he says, then bites his lip, as if holding himself back from saying something else. It doesn’t work. “I mean, I know I’d stick around.”
Armand finally reaches over, his hand gliding over Daniel’s knee, resting there against the bone. “I want you to. I was a fool to think I could live without you, that I could ignore the overwhelming love I feel for you, Daniel.”
Daniel shifts, his eyes flittering over Armand’s face, searching for the lie. When he can’t find one, his face opens up, a soft expression slipping through. “Yeah, I can feel it,” he says. “Can feel your love, in here.” He puts a hand to Armand’s undead heart, beating even harder now the boy's touching him.
In that moment, the background noise of the city ebbs away and he can hear it, his and Daniel’s heart. They’re in sync, perfectly alongside one another, in a lover's entanglement. Armand sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, breath hitching. “Oh. Oh beloved,” he whispers, his other hand rising to press against the boy's heart, feeling it supernaturally in time with the one inside him. “Can you feel it too? The pull? The way my heartbeat slows when you’re near?”
“Yeah, yeah I feel it boss,” Daniel says, laughing, the remaining tension in his shoulders falling into something unguarded. Armand almost flinches at the name, unable to tell if it’s because of Lestat’s song or if bits of Daniel’s subconscious are seeping through the cracks. “I wish I could hate you for this. Y’know, for killing me. I really do. But we’re bound, and I feel everything you feel. And… I already forgive you. For it all.”
“That’s a lot of things you’re forgiving me for, Daniel,” Armand reminds him, though his hand stays pressed against the boy's chest, unable to pull away. Daniel’s hand does, however, falling to the one on his knee, resting softly upon Armand’s own. “What if I don’t deserve it?”
Daniel shrugs unhelpfully, which is entirely on par for him. “I don’t think that’s for you to decide. I forgive you, even after you killed me. If you don’t forgive yourself, that’s okay. We can work on it. We have time — a fuck tonne of it, I hope.”
“And yet, I’ve destroyed you time and time again. Who’s to say it won’t happen again? We have a lot of time, and that means more opportunities for things to break.”
“Are you listening to me? You immortal idiot.”
Armand gasps, pupils expanding until only a slither of burnt orange is left. He can’t help himself, the words pulling the reaction out of him fast enough he can’t stop himself expressing it. Daniel had said that to him in 70s in such a similar way, towards the end of their travels across the world, where Armand would stalk the boy. A barrage of memories are thrust upon him, the early years when Daniel was still bumbling like a newborn fawn, so endearingly fascinating.
“Hello?” Daniel calls, snapping his fingers in front of Armand’s face.
“Sorry Daniel, did you say something?”
“Typical,” Daniel huffs, though Armand can tell he’s amused. “I was saying, even if it is broken, we can fix it. It’ll always be able to be fixed. And we’ll do it together.”
“And if I mess up?”
“Why’s this all on you, huh? You think I’m incapable of messing up? If you’ve been stalking me as long as you say, you should know how frequently I do. I mean, look at my ex-wives, I don’t speak to either of them. Kate and Lenny don’t want to hear from me either. You’re all I’ve got, man,” he says, then drops his voice slightly, as if he's embarrassed. “I can’t mess you up too. And if either of us do, well, I know we’ll figure it out.”
Armand sighs. “This is all new to me Daniel. I’m afraid I don’t know how to not mess up. The weight I carry, I’ve held it for so long. I do not know how to let go.”
“Then we’ll figure that out too, okay? Together. And if you can’t let go of the weight, I’ll carry it with you,” Daniel says, a slight blush rising to his cheeks, surprising himself with his own words. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
“That was quite beautiful, you should get into poetry.”
“Okay, don’t ruin it now, asshole. You know I hate poetry,” Daniel hisses, pulling away to cross his arms over his chest, leaning back and away from Armand’s hands.
Armand stands up with a laugh that surprises him. It’s genuine, probably the first laugh where he's truly felt happy for decades. He reaches a hand out to Daniel, fingers wiggling as he calls the boy to hold it. Daniel reaches for it, his cold hand clasped in Armand’s colder one, and he pulls him up.
Once he’s standing, Daniel doesn’t let go, and neither does Armand. They stare at each other for a while, the world still nonexistent beside themselves as their hearts continue to beat perfectly in sync.
“It's been an awfully eventful day, we should go to coffin. Would you like to head back to your apartment, Daniel?” Armand asks, his thumb running over the back of Daniel’s wrinkled palm.
“Nah, take me home.”
“Home?” Armand questions, feigning confusion, an eyebrow rising.
Maybe he’s already beginning to remember things of their past, that’s the only way he’d have any inkling that there's a ‘home’ at all. Armand wonders what memories are coming first, or if they’re being uncovered in order. It will be a learning game for them both, as he’s never seen the consequences of mind wiping on this scale with any other vampire. Armand is almost excited about the prospect, to see the unravelling of his own Mind Gift. It makes him want to study Daniel under a microscope.
“Home,” Daniel confirms, sounding entirely sure in himself.
Only one place comes to mind, that island of theirs in Florida.