Chapter Text
“Grace is sending pictures from Egypt,” Louis says, tilting his phone screen towards Paul so he can take a look as Louis swipes through the pictures.
Grace is looking happy and tan. Louis smiles at a selfie of her and Levi kissing in front of a pyramid.
“She should have used her part of the inheritance more wisely,” Paul scoffs.
Louis sighs. “She's not thinking of kids and college funds yet like you are. It's always been her dream to travel the world, and mama supported that dream.”
“It's frivolous,” Paul states. “I'd rather know Claudia was set up for the future than be gallivanting about.”
“We all have our own priorities,” Louis says.
Paul's are more serious than most people's, always have been. Having Claudia young, and losing his wife in childbirth, has only contributed to it. Louis knows these past five years haven't been easy, but sometimes he wishes Paul would lighten up a little bit.
It's a sunny afternoon and they're sitting on a bench in the small yard that comes with the parsonage home. Claudia has been happily absorbed in attempting to catch grasshoppers, and she comes running now with her hands cupped together.
“Uncle Lou, daddy, look!” Claudia calls. “I got one!”
She slowly opens her cupped hands and the captured grasshopper immediately grasps the opportunity for freedom.
“Oh,” Claudia says, disappointed. “I had it! Did you see it, daddy?”
“I saw it,” Paul assures her. “Good job.”
Claudia bounds off to harass more insects.
Paul suddenly grows very pensive.
“If something ever happens to me,” he says, “I have to know that you'll take care of her.”
“It won't,” Louis says. “And I will.”
“Promise me,” Paul says, eyes boring into Louis’.
“I promise, Paul,” Louis says, patting Paul's shoulder reassuringly.
Paul has these pessimistic episodes occasionally that make him urgently extract promises from Louis. Louis doesn't mind indulging him because if it ever were to come to it, he would take Claudia in a heartbeat.
“I have to get going,” Louis says. “I need to finish setting up the vernissage at the gallery.”
“Claudia,” Paul calls. “Say goodbye to uncle Louis!”
Claudia abandons her entomological pursuit to clamber onto the bench between them and give Louis a kiss on the cheek. Louis puts an arm around her and drops a kiss on her head.
“Bye, uncle Lou!” Claudia says brightly.
“Goodbye, Claudie,” Louis says. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Claudia says as she scampers off again.
“I'll see you at church on Sunday,” Paul tells him. Louis starts to say something but Paul firmly says, “No excuses. And you should bring Lestat.”
“I live with him, I don't control him,” Louis says.
“I don't like that you associate with someone like him,” Paul says.
“I know you don't,” Louis says, with a roll of his eyes. “But I really like that he pays half the rent.”
“The man needs Jesus,” Paul says.
Louis sighs. He doesn't say that he's pretty sure Lestat is beyond needing Jesus. He gives Paul a hug goodbye.
“See you on Sunday,” he says with a last clap on Paul's back.
&
On Sunday morning, Louis is having coffee in the kitchen and leafing through an art magazine when he hears Lestat burst through the front door. Lestat storms into the kitchen, sets his guitar case down carelessly, and steals Louis’ coffee, taking a deep draught with a sigh.
“I was drinking that,” Louis says at the same time as Lestat exclaims, “She threw me out! Antoinette threw me out on the street!”
“What did you do?”
“Apparently it's all the things I don't do,” Lestat gripes. “And sometime in between last night, when she was screaming on my dick in ecstasy, and waking up this morning, she apparently found some self-respect and isn't going to take it anymore.”
“No details, please,” Louis says, reclaiming his coffee.
Lestat drops onto a chair.
“Who does she think she is, breaking up with me? She's delusional if she thinks she can find better dick than this,” Lestat says.
“Uh-huh,” Louis says, trying to keep a straight face while secretly enjoying the melodrama.
“Self-respect?” Lestat says. “Self-respect my ass. Like she hasn't fucked every musician in a 50 mile radius.”
“So have you,” Louis points out.
“You're supposed to be on my side, Louis,” Lestat says accusingly.
Louis’ phone rings. He picks up without looking at the screen.
“I'm on my way, Paul,” he says.
“Mr du Lac?” an unfamiliar male voice sounds over the line.
Louis lowers his phone to check the display. It's an unknown number. He raises the phone back to his ear.
“Mr Louis du Lac?” the voice asks again.
“Speaking,” Louis replies after swallowing nervously.
“This is Deputy Habersham with the NOPD,” the man on the other end says. “Your brother has been involved in an accident. I regret to inform you he didn't make it.”
“What?” Louis says, his brain stalling out.
“Your brother, Paul du Lac–”
“Claudia,” Louis’ brain provides suddenly, urgently. “Claudia, my niece, is she–”
“There was no one else in the car, sir,” Deputy Habersham says.
He keeps talking, but Louis barely registers anything he's saying. He's only thinking about Claudia. As soon as the deputy hangs up the phone, Louis dials the number of Claudia's babysitter. She picks up on the third ring, but it feels like an agonizingly long wait.
“Lily, thank god,” Louis says. “Is Claudia with you?”
“She's right here,” Lily says. “Do you want me to put you on speaker?”
“No,” Louis says. “I'm coming to get her.”
“Aren't you going to church? I think she'll be happier with me.”
“I'll explain when I get there,” Louis says.
When he hangs up, Lestat is staring at him with big eyes.
“What's wrong?” he asks.
“Paul–Paul is–he’s–” Louis can't get the words out. He feels like he's choking. He can't get enough air.
Suddenly Lestat is standing in front of him, telling him to breathe with him. Louis sucks in a desperate breath of air and then lets it out slowly.
“Good,” Lestat says, rubbing Louis’ arms. “Just like that. Again.”
When Louis' breathing normalizes, Lestat asks very gently, “What happened?”
“Paul was in an accident,” Louis says, willing Lestat to understand. “I have to get Claudia.”
“Let's go. I'm driving,” Lestat says.
&
Louis only really feels the vice grip around his chest loosening once he feels the warm reality of Claudia's little body against his. Safe. He's holding her and she's safe.
“You're squeezing me, uncle Lou,” Claudia complains.
Louis takes one more deep breath in, clutching Claudia to his chest, before he lets her go.
Claudia is peering at him with a frown on her face.
“Are you okay, uncle Lou?” she asks.
Louis forces a smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “I'm okay now. I need to speak to Lily. Can you play with Lestat for a minute?”
Lestat, who's been hovering in the background, steps forward. Claudia grasps his hand and eagerly leads him to the play area where she hands him one of her dolls. They make a funny picture: Claudia in a prim floral dress, her hair neatly tied back with ribbons, Lestat still in last night's makeup and ripped jeans. He sits on the ground with Claudia, listening attentively as she tells him the doll’s life story.
Lily startles Louis out of observing them.
“Louis, what is going on?” she asks.
“Paul is–he drove off the road. They don't know what happened. But he's–”
Louis rolls his eyes back to keep the tears from falling, but to no avail. Lily is frozen in shock for a moment before she pulls him into a hug.
“God, I'm so sorry,” she says. “What are we gonna tell Claudia?”
“I don't know,” Louis says.
He glances over at where Claudia and Lestat are animatedly playing with her dolls. Lestat is talking in a high-pitched voice while wiggling his doll, making Claudia giggle.
Louis hates having to rip that away from her. In spite of growing up with only one parent, she's always been a bright and happy child. He doesn't know what this is going to do to her.
Telling her ends up being easier than he thought it would. Too easy, perhaps.
“Claudia,” Louis says, crouching in front of her after sitting her down. “You know how sometimes people go to heaven?”
“You mean like my mama?” she asks.
“Yes. Like your mama,” Louis confirms. “Your daddy… he's gone to heaven, too.”
Claudia tilts her head, processing.
“But daddy said he would pick me up later,” she says. “Like every Sunday. Daddy doesn't lie.”
“I know, Claudia–” A traitorous tear runs down Louis’ cheek. “Daddy wasn't lying. He just… He didn't know.”
“Hm,” Claudia frowns, lifting a small hand to pet his face. “Are you sad, uncle Lou?”
Louis nods.
“It's going to be okay,” Claudia says. “Can I go play?”
“I–” Louis tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you understand–”
Lily shakes her head at him.
“You can go play, Claudia,” she says. “Uncle Lou can come pick you up later.”
“You're going to come stay with me,” Louis tells her.
“With you and Lestat?” Claudia asks avidly.
“Yeah,” Louis says.
“Lestat, come play!” Claudia says and Lestat helplessly shrugs his shoulders at Louis as he follows her.
Louis wants to protest, but Lily puts a calming hand on his arm.
“It's a lot for her to process,” she says. “I think it's best if she stays here a little longer, as planned. We don't want to upset her day more than necessary. You've probably got your hands full with… everything.”
“Okay,” Louis says. “Yeah. You're right.”
Louis eventually collects Lestat from the play area, much to Claudia's dismay. He drops Lestat off at home in spite of his protests and drives to the police station. He has to do this on his own.
He is shown to an office.
“Mr du Lac,” the man behind the desk says, and Louis recognizes his voice from the phone call. “I'm Deputy Habersham. I'd like to offer my deepest condolences. Please, sit.”
Louis sits in a lumpy chair, feeling uncomfortably hot in the stuffy room.
“As you know, we found your brother's car off the road and against a tree this morning. May I ask when you last saw him?”
“Just a couple of days ago,” Louis says.
“Can you be more precise?”
“It was… Thursday afternoon,” Louis says.
“And how did he seem to you? Anything strange?”
“No, he–he was his usual self,” Louis says.
“Is he on any medications? Any history of mental illness?”
“What are you insinuating?” Louis asks, hackles rising.
“I'm not insinuating anything, sir,” Habersham says. “I'm just trying to figure out what happened. Now we can't say for sure, but there were no brake marks, which suggests that he was asleep at the wheel or… that he intentionally hit the tree.”
“You're suggesting he killed himself?” Louis asks heatedly. “He was a single father to a five-year-old daughter. He wouldn't have–”
“These things happen all the time,” the deputy says. “You're sure there weren't any signs?”
Louis thinks back to that afternoon three days ago. To Paul having him promise he would take care of Claudia. But he did that all the time, it wasn't unusual, it didn't mean anything–
Louis takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly.
“I don't know,” he says. “I don't think so.”
“Alright,” Deputy Habersham says. “I understand your brother had a daughter. Is she being taken care of?”
“She is with her babysitter right now,” Louis says. “She's coming to live with me.”
“A support worker from social services should be getting in touch with you shortly. They can provide you with resources like grief counseling.”
“We don't need that,” Louis says curtly.
“In a case like this, it's standard procedure to involve a social worker to ensure the welfare of the child.”
“Are you suggesting that I can't take care of–”
“I'm not suggesting anything, Mr du Lac. I understand this is a difficult situation, and social services can provide the kind of support a situation like this requires.”
Louis tries to quell his anger.
“Before I let you go, I have your brother's personal effects for you.”
Deputy Habersham hands him a plastic bag with a number of items inside. Louis opens it in the car. It contains Paul's wallet, his rosary, a creased baby photo of Claudia, and some of Paul's favourite strawberry hard candy. Louis picks up the picture and smoothes it out with his fingers. He presses the rosary against his lips as the tears start flowing.
“I promise I'll take care of her,” he whispers against the rosary.
Then he wipes his tears and commences the drudgery of unpleasant but necessary tasks that come with someone's death. He's familiar with most of them due to his mother's death a couple of years ago, so he puts his brain on autopilot and gets to work.
&
On the day of the funeral, the church is packed. Louis is overwhelmed with the number of attendants, but he should have expected it. As pastor, Paul was a vital part of the community and his congregation wants to say their final good-byes. Louis wishes they could have kept the service small and intimate, if only for Claudia's sake, but it touches him how loved Paul was.
He had only been able to reach Grace the day prior to the funeral. She had been on a several-day trip in the desert with extremely spotty cell service. When they finally talked, Grace offered to get the next flight home, but Louis talked her out of it. She wouldn't have made it in time for the funeral anyway and Louis could manage on his own. Claudia was taken care of. Grace only agreed reluctantly. They cried on the phone together, and Louis wished he could have held her.
He's still not sure if Claudia fully understands that Paul is gone for good. She hasn't cried. She was her usual attentive self during the service. They're now filing out of the church in the wake of the pallbearers, Claudia’s small hand clutched in Louis’.
Louis crouches down next to Claudia as he hands her a rose to throw into Paul's grave.
“Goodbye, daddy,” she says quietly, letting her rose tumble down onto the coffin.
Louis lets his own rose fall. They watch as the pile of soil next to the grave is shovelled onto the coffin. At first there's a dull thud with every shovelful, but soon the coffin is fully covered and the noise becomes quiet and finally stops.
That night, Claudia is quiet and withdrawn during her bedtime routine. When Louis tucks her into his bed, she finally speaks.
“Uncle Lou,” she says. “Are you my daddy now?”
“I can't replace your daddy,” he says. “But I'll always take care of you. You never have to worry about that.”
“A lot of people cried about daddy today,” Claudia observes.
“Your daddy… He had a lot of friends, at the church. They loved him very much.”
“They didn't love him as much as I do,” Claudia says firmly.
“No, I don't think they did,” Louis says, squeezing her hand.
“Do you think that daddy is with mama? In heaven?” Claudia asks thoughtfully.
“I'm sure he is.”
“Then he must be very happy now.” Claudia sounds satisfied. “He always missed mama a lot.”
“He must be missing you now,” Louis says. “He's probably telling your mama all about you. About how wonderful you are.”
“I love you, daddy Lou,” Claudia says.
Louis’ heart seizes in his chest. He has to take a beat before answering.
“I–I love you too, angel girl,” he says, voice thick with the tears he's holding back. “I always will.”
“Okay,” Claudia says.
She holds out her little arms for a hug and Louis wraps his arms around her.
“Sleep tight,” he whispers into her hair.
When he goes downstairs, he finds Lestat getting ready to leave for the night, guitar case slung across his shoulder.
“How is she?” he asks Louis.
“Still, somehow, miraculously fine,” Louis says. “She–she called me daddy Lou.”
Lestat's eyes widen. “Oh.”
“I don't know what to do with that,” Louis says. “What if I can't be that for her?”
“Tough luck,” Lestat smiles at him gently. “You already are.”
They stand there for a moment, silently looking at each other. Louis secretly wishes Lestat would step in close and put his arms around him. Hold him. Kiss him. It's a stupid impulse fueled by grief. There was a time when he would have given into it, years ago when they first met and drunkenly hooked up a few times, but not anymore. Louis likes to think he's a little wiser now.
“You're not sleeping on the couch again?” Lestat finally breaks the silence. “My bed is perfectly comfortable, you know.”
“Stop trying to get me in bed with you,” Louis says wryly. Lestat has definitely not become wiser.
“I promise you wouldn't regret it,” Lestat purrs, batting his eyes.
“It's pretty low of you to try and take advantage of a grieving man,” Louis says, smiling in spite of himself.
“I would never!” Lestat gasps, offended.
“We both know you would,” Louis says and Lestat turns his nose up at him. “But I've been thinking. We could convert the music room into a bedroom for Claudia?”
“My music room?” Lestat asks indignantly. “With my instruments?”
“Claudia is going to need her own room,” Louis says.
“Why can't she move into your darkroom?”
Louis leaves a beat of silence for Lestat to realise how ridiculous he's being, but he continues to stare expectantly at Louis, waiting for an answer.
“Lestat…,” Louis says. “The darkroom is a windowless broom closet. I can barely move around in there.”
“Claudia is tiny,” Lestat points out. “She doesn't need as much room as you do.”
“Lestat,” Louis says darkly. “You're talking about my recently orphaned niece.”
“Well, where do you suggest I put the piano?” Lestat asks.
“We'll find a spot. Maybe in the living room.”
“Ugh fine,” Lestat says, and then his face turns sly. “You know what would really make this easier for me?”
“I am not having sex with you.”
“Have it your way, then,” Lestat huffs, flipping his hair. “Just know that I could throw your back out in much more pleasurable ways than that couch can.”
“I have no doubt,” Louis says dryly.
As he lies awake on the couch, the springs digging into his back, he decidedly does not think about any of those ways, not the vaguely remembered ones or otherwise.
&
Louis feels prickly about the home visit from the social worker. Armand is a very well-dressed slender man who just rubs Louis the wrong way for no discernible reason. And yet, he has the kind of attentive demeanor that makes Louis want to keep talking to him, and Louis shudders to think how the rapt expression on that angelic face could draw out thoughts he would never normally voice.
Louis shows Armand around the house and Armand keeps scribbling notes on a small note pad. Louis tries to sneak a look and Armand flips it closed with a chiding look.
Armand stops in front of the mini bar in the living room, pointing at it with his pen.
“Is there alcohol in here?” he asks.
“Yeah,” Louis says. “Is that a problem?”
“You're going to have to install a child safety lock.”
“It's not like she'll ever be unsupervised to chuck a bottle of whisky,” Louis says.
Armand seems deeply unimpressed.
“It's a requirement,” he says simply.
They eventually find themselves at the kitchen table.
“How is Claudia settling in?” Armand asks.
“Fine,” Louis says. “She seems to be taking it all in stride.”
Armand hums thoughtfully and writes something down.
“I'm going to give you the number of one of our grief counselors,” he says.
“She doesn't need that,” Louis says. “I'm here for her.”
“A professional can help her process her emotions far more efficiently. She might not be fully honest with you about the extent of her feelings,” Armand says.
“You think she's lying to me?” Louis bristles.
“It can be hard for children to be fully open with an adult who they know is also grieving.”
“We talk,” Louis says.
Armand writes something else down. Louis squints at his notes but he can't make out the cursive.
“As I understand you're planning to house Claudia long-term with the end goal of adoption?”
“Of course,” Louis says.
“She is currently sleeping in your bedroom, correct?”
“Yes, but we're going to turn the music room into her room.”
“I would like to see that sooner rather than later,” Armand says. “It's important for her to have her own space and not feel like she's taking up yours. It will help her feel like this is home.”
“It is home,” Louis says. “She knows that.”
Armand makes a placating humming noise.
“Are you in a relationship?” he asks.
“Why is that relevant?”
“It's part of the information I need to collect to ensure that this is a stable environment for Claudia. This is about what’s in her best interest.”
“So if I'm not in a stable relationship, you'd rather put her with strangers than with her own family?” Louis demands.
“It's only one of several factors, though of course not an insignificant one,” Armand states calmly. “So that's a no on the relationship then?”
Louis hears the front door unlatch. Lestat must be home. And that's when Louis has a desperate idea to salvage the situation.
“Lestat,” he calls out. “Can you come in here for a second?”
Lestat walks into the kitchen.
“Hey,” he says. “What's up?”
“Lestat, this is Armand from social services,” Louis says, gesturing to him. “Armand, this is Lestat, my… uh… fiancé.”
Louis is staring at Lestat, trying to telepathically convey the importance of playing along. Confusion flashes across Lestat’s face, but it's gone as quickly as it appears. Lestat steps closer to the table, putting an arm around Louis’ shoulders and kissing his cheek. Lestat's stubble tickles Louis’ skin and Louis has to fight the urge to lean into it.
Armand is flipping through his notepad, frowning.
“That's certainly new information,” he says, seeming a little put-out. “If I'd known, I would have scheduled the interview with both of you.”
“Why?” Louis asks.
“When we're looking at long-term care and even adoption, I'm sure you understand that the views of a long-term partner are extremely relevant. Is there any way you could sit down with us right now, Lestat?” Armand asks.
“Sorry, but I'm in a rush. I'm only dropping in to pick up my guitar,” Lestat says.
“Ah yes,” Armand says. “From the music room. Which you will be converting?”
He looks at Lestat like he's testing him.
“... yes?” Lestat says slowly.
Armand nods, but he seems pensive.
“Although I wonder… The two separate bedrooms made sense when I thought you were nothing more than housemates, but if you're engaged, wouldn't sharing make for simpler arrangements?”
Shit.
“Louis snores terribly,” Lestat declares. “Don't you, my love?”
“Uh, yeah. It's real bad,” Louis says, grateful for the save.
“He may look delicate, but you wouldn't believe the noises that can come out of this one. Like a congested rhinoceros,” Lestat keeps spinning the tale with obvious enjoyment.
Louis shoots him an annoyed look, but Armand seems satisfied.
“We should schedule an interview with the both of you present,” Armand says. “How does Monday afternoon sound? It's the only opening I have next week.”
That leaves them only three days to get their story straight, Louis thinks, trying not to panic.
“Sure,” Lestat says.
Then he tilts Louis’ chin up with his index finger and presses a lingering kiss to his lips. Louis suppresses his surprised gasp. When Lestat draws back, he gives him a mischievous wink.
“See you later, honey,” he says.
All Louis gets out is a “yeah.” His mouth feels dry.
Armand packs up his notepad as Lestat runs upstairs.
“I will see you next week, then,” Armand says.
“Yeah,” Louis says again. He’s so dazed he almost forgets to walk Armand to the door.
&
“I should come clean.” Louis is pacing. “I'll just tell Armand that I panicked and lied. No, that wouldn't reflect well on me. God, what was I thinking? I can't come clean. We need to make this convincing.”
“Does my opinion figure into this at all?” Lestat asks from where he's sprawled on the couch, still wearing his clothes and make-up from the night's gig. He's wearing a crop top and low rise pants and Louis is steadfastly trying not to stare at his exposed midriff.
“What's your opinion?”
“My opinion is that if we're engaged, you shouldn't be sleeping on the couch.” He gives Louis a seductive smile with half-lidded eyes.
“That's not helpful,” Louis says. “Like, at all.”
Lestat pouts.
“We need to convince Armand that we're happily engaged and… that you're capable of parenting,” Louis says.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lestat says. “Why are my parental skills the only ones being called into question?”
“I mean, look at you,” Louis huffs, gesturing at Lestat.
“I'm pretty sure looks aren't indicative of parental skills,” Lestat says. “I can be a hot piece of ass and a good father.”
“Do you even–do you think you can convince Armand that's something you want?”
Lestat is studying his nails.
“If I do this, what do I get out of it?” he asks.
“Only the satisfaction of having done the good deed of keeping a family together,” Louis says sardonically.
Lestat puts his chin in his hand and pretends to think. “Doesn't seem like a good trade to me.”
“Can you get fucking serious for a second here,” Louis says, nostrils flaring. “I could lose Claudia over this. They could put her with complete strangers.”
“Calm down, I'll do it,” Lestat says. “Obviously.”
“Okay,” Louis says. “Thank you.”
“But I get a favor. I need to make Antoinette jealous.”
“What does that entail?” Louis asks with trepidation.
“I don't know, whatever it takes. You coming to my gigs, us making out in front of her, that kind of thing.”
“No,” Louis says. “There will be no making out. Not in front of Antoinette, and not in front of Armand either, come to think of it. That stops now.”
“Oh come on, Louis! It's pretend. What's a little make-out session between fake fiancés? It's like… method acting. It'll help you get into it, make it more authentic.”
Louis looks at the ceiling in supplication.
“Do it for Claudia,” Lestat says with a sly smile.
“You're a devil,” Louis says.
“Oh Louis, you flatter me,” Lestat preens. “Five gigs and I'm all yours.”
“Two,” Louis says. “I have a five-year-old to look after.”
“Three,” Lestat counters.
“Fine,” Louis says.
Lestat bounces off the couch in excitement. “This is going to be so much fun. I can't wait to see Antoinette’s face.”
He walks past Louis, letting their hands brush. He lingers for a moment.
“You know, the offer still stands,” he purrs into Louis’ ear. “Come to bed, fiancé.”
Louis shivers but he draws away.
“I wouldn't want to keep you up with my snoring,” Louis says. “By the way, I've found some people on Craigslist who can carry the piano down the stairs. They're coming tomorrow so we can start converting the music room.”
“Tomorrow? Craigslist?” Lestat gasps, outraged. “If I find a single scratch on that piano–”
“I'll make sure they take the utmost care with your precious piano,” Louis says.
Lestat makes a disapproving hmph noise. “You'd better, or this whole thing is off.”
Lestat flounces up the stairs to his room.
“Goodnight,” Louis calls after him, but he only gets another hmph in response.
&
Once the piano has been safely conveyed to the living room, and with only two close calls (okay, maybe three), Louis takes Claudia to Home Depot where she chooses a dusky pink paint for her bedroom.
Lestat has agreed to help with the painting. He's wearing stained denim overalls over a baggy t-shirt, his hair tied up in a messy bun. Louis thinks it's deeply unfair that he still manages to look amazing.
Louis is painting large swaths of wall with a roller while Lestat is painstakingly doing the corners with a brush, letting Claudia dip it into the paint for him, which she diligently does over and over.
“Thank you, ma petite,” Lestat says as she hands over the brush again. “You're helping me a great deal.”
Louis watches as Lestat readjusts his kneeling position and paints around an electrical outlet before pausing to have the brush dipped again. Claudia accidentally drops the brush into the bucket and sprays Lestat with droplets of paint. Claudia instinctively reaches to stick her hand into the bucket and rescue the brush, but Lestat catches her little wrist, laughing.
“No, no, no,” he says, “careful! We don't want you to get covered in paint! You'll look like a big piece of bubblegum and I'll eat you up!” He lifts Claudia up by the waist with both hands and she breaks into a fit of giggles.
Maybe Lestat isn't as bad at this as Louis thought he was.
For a moment, Louis lets himself imagine that they're actually in this together. That Lestat is his, and Claudia's. That they're a family. Lestat looks over and catches his eye. He cocks his head and smiles.
“Louis,” he says in that dark timbre that always sends a pleasant shiver down Louis’ spine, and Louis finds himself caught in his eyes, plunging into the bluest ocean water on a hot sunny day– “Louis, you’re dripping paint all over the floor!”
“Oh, shhhucks!” Louis says, catching himself just in time.
He puts the paint roller on the tray and hurries to get kitchen roll, but by the time he's wiping the paint off the wooden floor, some of it has already started to dry, leaving a small stain.
“It's shaped like a heart,” Claudia observes.
“If you really squint,” Lestat says, tilting his head.
“It's a sign that this room will be filled with love,” Louis says.
Lestat looks up and smiles at him. His face is painted with pink freckles. Louis feels his heart stutter in his chest.
“I'm going to miss this room,” Lestat sighs.
Louis gives him a sharp look.
“Though I don't need it and am very happy to let Claudia have it,” Lestat amends, and to Claudia, “You'll be having the most delightful dreams in here.”
“Can I sleep in my room tonight?” Claudia asks.
“We need to let the paint dry for a few days,” Louis informs her regretfully. “But then it's all yours.”
“Can we put up a picture of daddy right here?” Claudia asks, pointing to a spot on the wall that will be right opposite her bed.
“Of course,” Louis says. “We'll pick a nice one.”
“Any ideas on how to get the paint brush out of the bucket?” Lestat pipes up.
“I got a spare one,” Louis sighs.
&
On Sunday, Louis and Lestat finally sit down together to work out the finer details of their purported engagement.
They decide to match the timeline of their relationship as close to the truth as possible. The story goes that they met four years ago, during the height of the pandemic, so at first all of their dates consisted of long walks through New Orleans. They officially got together September 1st, 2021.
“I definitely said ‘I love you’ first,” Lestat says. “You're so emotionally unavailable.”
“I could have said it first,” Louis protests.
“How many people have you told you love them in your life?” Louis starts to speak but Lestat holds up a hand. “Not including family.” Louis closes his mouth. “Exactly.”
“Okay, you've made your point. When did you say it?” Louis asks.
“Two months in,” Lestat declares and Louis chokes on his own spit.
“That's way too soon,” he says.
“Would that make you run for the hills?” Lestat says with an eye roll. “Fine, it was… four months in. I wanted to say it sooner but I waited because I knew it would scare you off.”
“That bit is unnecessary, but fine,” Louis says.
“I'm developing a character here. My motivations are anything but unnecessary.”
“I obviously moved in summer 2022,” Louis says, which is his actual move-in date.
Lestat had been looking for a housemate because Nicki had abruptly decided to move back to Europe, and Louis had been looking for a place closer to Paul and Claudia, so it worked out well. Except for the fact that they had to stop hooking up. It would have complicated the housemate situation too much, Louis had reasoned. It would actually be a logistical advantage, Lestat had reasoned, but he had eventually conceded. For the most part.
Louis glances at the list of relationship milestones he's written down. “So who proposed?”
“I would want to get proposed to but I know I wouldn't get that from you.” Lestat heaves a dramatic sigh.
Louis coughs reproachfully.
“What?” Lestat says. “Tell me I'm wrong.”
“Oh hell, what do I care,” Louis says. “You proposed. Three years in maybe?”
“Conservative, but I can go with that. I would have done it on our anniversary. That's so romantic,” Lestat says in a dreamy voice. “Roses strewn from the front door to the bedroom, candles everywhere–”
“That would be a fucking fire hazard–”
“–classical music playing, me on one knee telling you you're the love of my life, and I think there's a tear in your eye–”
“There is not.”
“–and once you’ve said yes and I've slipped the ring onto your finger, I swipe the rose petals off the bed and make slow and tender love to you.”
“No, you don't,” Louis says.
“It would be out of character if I didn't,” Lestat says.
“Armand doesn't know that” Louis points out. “And he doesn't need to know.”
“But I need to know it! It's essential to my character,” Lestat protests.
“Okay, fine, you proposed to me and then fucked me into the mattress–”
“Made love to you,” Lestat corrects.
“Made love to me,” Louis repeats with gritted teeth. Lestat nods, pleased. “And we decided on a long engagement so we can save up for the wedding. Since I presume you'd want to go big.”
“Of course, Louis! It's a celebration of our love!” Lestat says.
“Fuck,” Louis suddenly realizes. “We're going to need an engagement ring.”
“Not a problem,” Lestat says. “I have my mother's ring.”
“Are you sure you want to use that?” Louis asks.
“I don't see myself proposing to anyone else with it any time soon.”
“What about Antoinette?”
Lestat laughs.
“Oh Louis! You've so delightfully and completely misconstrued my intentions! This is about getting back at her, not getting back with her,” Lestat says.
“So you're just doing this to be a dick?”
“You don't have to say it like that,” Lestat reproaches.
“Like what?”
“Like I'm the morally reprehensible dirt on the bottom of your shoe.”
“I'm just saying, you don't have to be an asshole,” Louis says.
“Well, I enjoy it,” Lestat says haughtily.
“Seems kinda morally reprehensible.”
“I'm engaged to a saint!” Lestat proclaims. “The great Saint Louis who has never acted with untoward intention, not even towards an evil ex!”
“Better put a ring on it,” Louis says.
&
“You have very slender fingers,” Lestat remarks when he slips the ring onto Louis’ finger. “I didn't think this was going to fit.”
“Must be fate,” Louis jokes uncomfortably.
Lestat looks up and Louis’ breath hitches when their eyes meet. There's something vulnerable in Lestat's gaze. Louis’ hand is still in Lestat's and Lestat's skin is warm against his, the pads of his fingers rough and calloused against Louis’ palm.
Lestat laughs, nervous and high-pitched, and lets go of Louis’ hand.
And just like that, Louis and Lestat are engaged.