Chapter Text
0
There are very few things more dull than having to make deals with human beings. The only thing more dull is the inevitable begging that follows when the ten years of the deal are up and they realize they’re destined for Hell because they sold their souls to an actual demon.
Lestat has been doing this for over 300 years now, and it became dull about three months in, so it’s with great exasperation that he feels the tug at his belly that means a human is forcibly summoning him to his crossroads.
Lestat regularly curses whichever idiot demon let the humans in on the secret that a box with a photo of themselves, some graveyard dirt, and an animal bone buried into the middle of a crossroads was enough to summon them.
Back in the day, Lestat could at least amuse himself by delaying his arrival when humans started shouting and begging for him and surprising them when they least expected it.
When he appears, there is a man kneeling on the ground patting the dirt around the box he’s just buried. Lestat sighs heavily, saying, “Okay, that’s enough. You don’t actually need it if you want to see me, you can take your box back. I have no need for more dirt.”
The man freezes on his knees and slowly looks up. Lestat studies him, reluctantly curious. He’s much younger than most of the humans who have asked for deals here. Lestat always hates dealing with the rare young person who comes to him — their requests are usually more idiotic, made with the desperate want that claws at young people, and they’re always more likely to get angry and violent when Lestat comes after them when their ten years are up.
“What do you want?” Lestat asks flatly. “Women, riches, et cetera.”
He watches with some amusement as the man tries to hide his fear behind a mask of calm and confidence. It’s not a bad effort, but Lestat can feel rather than see how desperate he is, the energy practically vibrating off him.
“Money.” He says quickly, standing up. “I need money.”
Predictable. Lestat sighs again. “Of course. I can make you rich—“
“No, I—“ The man interrupts, licking his lips. “I don’t want you to make me rich, I just need a specific amount. I just need the — the money I should have inherited before my father lost it all.”
“Why would you need that?” Lestat asks disdainfully. “I could make you rich in an instant, make everything you do successful. It is the same thing.”
But the man is already shaking his head as Lestat speaks, stubborn. “I don’t want that. I just want what was supposed to be mine.”
“I’m not a bank.” Lestat scoffs, a little insulted. He has enough power to bend anything to his will, change this man’s life, remake it into any form he wishes and he wants to — what? Withdraw some money?
The man straightens and glares at Lestat, his nerves forgotten. The effect is mildly shocking. “But it’s an exchange, isn't it? I can ask for what I want in exchange for you having my soul? Well, this is what I want.”
“I still choose whether I honor the deal or not.” Lestat points out, annoyed at this human’s entitlement. Does he think Lestat is champing at the bit to get his hands on his soul?
“Fine then.” The man snaps, “Forget about it.”
He turns around and starts walking away like the whole thing was a waste of time.
Lestat blinks and impulsively says, “Wait. I suppose you have a point.”
The man turns around and looks at Lestat dubiously. Lestat doesn’t blame him; he doesn’t really know what he’s saying either.
All he knows is that it is a shockingly bad deal for someone to make. Does this man not realize what is in store for him? Any other demon would be celebrating the win of an easy get — another stupid human falling under their hands — but Lestat is unnerved by it.
So in the time it takes for the man to walk back to him, Lestat does something he hasn’t done in a very long time: he focuses and delves into the man’s mind, reading him.
It’s desperation, just as he thought. But the desperation is heavily tinged with pure devotion and love for his family. He sees in the man’s mind flashes of images of what he can only assume are his family. He sees, too, the memory of being told that his sick father had driven their fortune into the ground, most of it lost in poor investments and the rest gambled away, and he experiences the sick feeling of having all this responsibility suddenly on his shoulders.
Louis. That’s his name.
Lestat blinks and pulls out of his head.
Louis is looking at him suspiciously. “So we have a deal?”
“Fine.” Lestat says, tilting his head. “It’s your decision, Louis.”
He can see the use of his name hit Louis hard, and he looks away, for the first time something desperately sad and scared on his face before it’s blinked away again, his facing becoming blank.
Something in Lestat churns, something that feels a lot like regret when Louis says, “Okay, let’s do it. Ten years, right?”
“Yes. Ten years.”
Louis nods, rubs a hand over his face, and extends a steady hand as if to shake Lestat’s hand.
Lestat looks at it, smirking a little. “So you don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“Deals are sealed with a kiss.” Lestat says with relish, watching Louis’s reaction. Human men always have such interesting reactions to having to kiss a demon in a male body.
He doesn’t disappoint, his cheeks flushing in a manner that draws Lestat’s eyes to his smooth skin. “A kiss,” He repeats inanely, then shrugs, “Fine then.”
Lestat walks over to him, close enough until their chests are a mere foot apart. The night is dark, the moonlight fighting through a heavy veil of clouds, but Louis is shockingly beautiful up close, and Lestat has seen many, many humans. True, his face is drawn and tight with stress, but it does little to distract from his wide dark eyes, his soft pout, high cheekbones, and his thick eyelashes dark like his hair.
He distantly wonders how Louis could not have just walked up to any human and just asked for the money outright. He can imagine many would be happy to hand it over if only just to please him. But, alas, he came to Lestat instead.
Lestat frames Louis’s jaw with his hands, enjoying the feeling of warm skin under them and he leans in, pausing just a hairbreadth away from Louis’s lips. Louis exhales and his breath is sweet on Lestat for a moment before he closes the distance, pressing his plush lips to Lestat’s. They kiss just once, lingering for a moment before Louis pulls himself away quickly, rubbing at his mouth.
Lestat lets him go, hands falling from his neck.
Huh.
He looks at Louis one last time, lingering over his long neck, the dark curls of his hair, then says with a smile, “I will see you soon, Louis. Good luck.”
Louis doesn’t say anything, just watches as Lestat leaves.
1
Contrary to what many people might think, there is a lot of work involved in being a demon.
There’s the bureaucratic stuff — reporting to his supervisors and checking up on his subordinates, making sure things are going smoothly.
There’s also the general business of scaring humans and wreaking havoc and leading them astray, which — as Lestat ages — has become increasingly boring. All humans have bad thoughts and if you appear to them and spend a few minutes convincing them it’s a good idea, they’ll eventually do it. Once you figure out this predictability, it’s not very fun anymore, so Lestat mostly lets younger demons take care of this side of things.
There’s also the business involved with being a crossroads demon, which is a special designation that not all demons have. It is, honestly speaking, not a hard job. He appears to humans twice: once when they make their deal and another when the deal is up and he comes to collect their souls. Sometimes, they call to him early to renegotiate (often unsuccessful) or to beg for mercy (always unsuccessful). But for the most part, he has little contact with the humans he’s made deals with.
There is one, however, who he does think about. Not often, of course, as Lestat is quite a busy demon. But sometimes when Lestat is bored he thinks of that young man that came to him asking for a very specific amount of money, which Lestat of course easily deposited into his accounts the very minute they kissed. (He sometimes does think of the kiss, too.)
He was just unusual, is all. And Lestat is perhaps bored and curious to see what he’s done with himself. That’s his excuse anyway for why he looks into the universe for where Louis is and wills himself into the space exactly one year after they made the deal.
It is an exact year later after making their deal, down to the very second, so it is very late when he appears in Louis’s bedroom. Luckily, he has the forethought to silence the room just as Louis spots him and shouts.
“Hello, Louis.” He says, a little pleased with how surprised Louis is to see him. He does enjoy the dramatics of making an entrance.
Louis scrambles to sit up in his bed, staring at him in shock. “You’re too early,” he chokes out.
Ah. That explains the fear, then. “I’m not here for your soul, Louis, don’t worry. It is, as you say, much too early.” He hopes his voice is soothing.
“Why are you here then?” Louis asks, shifting oddly in the bed.
Lestat realizes that he’s trying to cover up his bare chest. He looks at all the naked skin in front of him, studying with some curiosity the divot between Louis’s collarbones, the faint trail of hair on his chest, the muscles of his flat stomach.
“I’m here to check on you. See how you’re doing.” Lestat says absently, eyes catching on those little dark nipples that have peaked in the air. Or perhaps under his gaze? Lestat does not want to presume.
Louis pulls up the sheet around his shoulders, glaring at him. “Is that typical?”
Lestat is unsure if he’s asking about the staring or about him checking up on Louis. He decides on the latter, saying confidently, “I like to see how my contracts are faring.”
It’s a lie, of course. Lestat couldn’t give less of a fuck about how his contracts do, and his supervisors don’t care either as long as the soul is collected by the end of it, but Louis relaxes a little.
“So you want an update on what I’ve been doing?”
“Yes.” Lestat says easily. Sure, why not?
“Well…I invested some of the money — in railroads this time, which I’ve been told is more stable. And I’ve bought a few places in town, I’m planning on—“
Lestat hums as if he understands the intricacies of money making, looking around Louis’s room. It’s more sparse than he thought it would be, just a bed and a desk and a closet, and absolutely nothing else. He doesn’t know what he was hoping to see, except that he’s hungry for something he can't name.
He realizes a moment too late that Louis has stopped talking and is looking at him expectedly, untrusting.
“Well then.” Lestat says, smiling sharply. “That’s good to hear. Until next time, Louis.”
He disappears again, a little annoyed. He won’t be coming back next year, that’s for sure. That was a total waste of time and a good reminder of why he doesn’t mix with humans — they are, at the end of the day, extremely boring.
2
He comes back again the next year.
He’s not sure why, exactly, except that he feels unsatisfied about his visit last year. Plus, it’s quiet tonight anyway and Lestat isn’t in the mood to stand around at the crossroads.
This time he appears in what looks like a small office. Not in Louis’s home, then. Louis is at his desk, his head pillowed by his folded arms, fast asleep. The desk is a mess of papers full of writing and numbers and illustrations, but Lestat ignores it all to focus on the sight of Louis’s sleeping face.
He’s seen humans sleep before, of course; they are particularly fun to torture when they are sleeping. Though, of course, now that Louis and him have a contract he can no longer access Louis’s mind, so perhaps that’s why he simply gazes at him instead. He looks so much more peaceful when he’s sleeping, and his eyes twitch behind his eyelids like he’s watching something.
Lestat looks around the room curiously. Well, he thinks, if Louis’s bedroom was sparse, then this is its exact opposite — as though Louis only allows himself to exist in one place.
He notes with some surprise the sheer amount of books here, some arranged carefully in shelves and others haphazardly piled up on flat surfaces. There are some photos, too, and Lestat barely gives a glance at a photograph of who might be Louis’s father before his eyes settle on one more recent of Louis and his family.
This must have been Louis before the deal; his father is still in this one and there’s a boyish smile on his face, slightly knowing and teasing. He can almost imagine the sparkle that must have been in his eyes. Lestat fights the urge to steal the photo just as Louis starts to awaken behind him.
“Hello, Louis.”
To Louis’s credit, he startles only slightly before giving Lestat a fierce glare.
“Can you come earlier next time? Christ.” Louis says, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you weren’t dropping by anymore.”
“Were you waiting for me?”
Lestat ignores the eye roll Louis gives him. Louis is startlingly loose here with not even a hint of the fear or shock he had last time. He does look more tired, though, and he’s lost weight since Lestat saw him last.
“Just wanted to get it over with,” Louis mutters, and then breathes deeply before starting, “So —“
What follows is a boring recounting of more human business, but what Lestat can parse from the expression on his face is that Louis is doing well. Of course, not as well as he might have been doing if he’d simply let Lestat make it so, but he seems grimly content with his progress so Lestat assumes that it’s a good thing.
“You look a little unwell, Louis.” Lestat remarks casually when he finishes.
It is little more than an innocent observation, but Louis reacts with surprising anger. “That’s none of your business, frankly.”
Lestat raises his eyebrows at the reaction. Louis blinks and deflates a bit, “Sorry, I’m just — just tired. I was supposed to be home hours ago but I was waiting for a meeting and — anyway, Mama will be angry with me for missing dinner.”
“Surely that is the cost of working so hard.”
Louis laughs a little at that, and the way mirth transforms his face is — well, it’s interesting, to say the least. “Yeah, but maybe not on my birthday.”
“Your birthday?” Lestat repeats dumbly.
Louis raises an eyebrow at him, saying slowly, “Yes. I made the deal on my 23rd. Thought you knew that.”
23. Louis was 23. Younger than he assumed — maybe one of the youngest Lestat has ever had a deal with. Again, regret scratches at his core. Louis will only be 33 when he is dragged to Hell, and the thought is suddenly so repulsive that Lestat can only push it away hastily.
“I see.” He says, hoping nothing he’s feeling is showing on his face. But Louis is looking at him a little strangely, so he isn’t too confident. “Well,” He says. “Happy birthday, Louis.”
Louis blinks and a small flush creeps over his cheeks as he smiles, surprised. “Uh, thank you.”
Lestat disappears before he can do something stupid like smile back.
It hasn’t been a year yet, barely even two months since he saw him last, but Lestat decides one night that he would like to see Louis again.
And why not?, Lestat thinks. There’s nothing in the rules preventing him from doing it, although truthfully he doesn’t know the rules well enough to actually know that for sure.
Lestat doesn’t have a good excuse for dropping in, however, so he elects to stay invisible and watch Louis from afar this time.
He’s walking alone leisurely, smoking, looking up at the sky occasionally, the moonlight fetchingly highlighting his cheekbones as he tilts his head this way and that. He looks a little better than the last time Lestat saw him, though, in his opinion, still far too thin. And there’s a relaxed look to his face that Lestat hasn’t seen before.
He realizes soon enough when Louis bumps into a streetlight and giggles to himself that it’s because Louis has been drinking.
Lestat smiles to himself, amused. It’s not a good habit for humans to have, though he figures that if anyone deserves to have a drink and relax, it’s Louis. And there’s something charming about young he looks like this, smiling and humming to himself as he walks home. Something in Lestat relaxes the longer he spends in Louis’s company, taking comfort in the knowledge that Louis has some good moments. That Lestat hasn’t ruined all possibilities of joy for him.
Lestat follows him all the way to his house, to the wrought iron gates of the big home he shares with his family, keeping a careful distance.
Just as Louis’s hand touches the gate to open it, he freezes suddenly and looks around. Lestat watches curiously, anticipation curling in his veins. Can Louis feel his presence? Is that possible? But then the moment passes and Louis shakes his head and goes inside.
Lestat nurses the small kernel of disappointment the rest of the week.
He doesn’t make a habit of it, but he does see Louis a few more times that year. Not often and never for long, but it becomes a comfort to check up on him once in a while.
Most of the time, Louis is alone, sometimes at work and other times in his bedroom at night. (Lestat tries not to dwell too long in his bedroom when he’s sleeping; he is aware that even among demons this is strange behavior.)
Sometimes, Lestat will see him with his employees, and his persona is different with them: professional, calm, straight-shouldered. It’s charming.
Once, Lestat sees him with his brother who harasses the working girls. Lestat sees Louis threaten him and is shocked (and a little out of breath) to see Louis pull a knife on him. Lestat elects not to look too closely at his own reaction. He does, however, peek into Paul’s mind, if only to reassure himself that there isn’t an errant demon in the area terrorizing him. But no, Paul’s mind is completely his own, if severely troubled.
Lestat learns a lot about Louis through these observations. He already knew Louis was devoted to his family to the point of being willing to sell his soul to take care of them, but he also sees it in how hard he works, in the gentle expression he has as he looks after Paul even after threatening him.
He sees, too, how lonely Louis is. How little of himself belongs to only him. How hard he works and how little he takes.
Lestat aches in painful recognition of it. He doesn’t know why, exactly, but he does.
3
On Louis’s 26th birthday, Lestat finds him smoking at the back of his house, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed.
When he lazily opens them again, he blinks only once in surprise.
“Hello, Louis.” Lestat smiles, giddy at being able to show himself again. Eager to see Louis react to him.
“Well, you’re early this year, I’ll give you that.” Louis says with a faint smile, shaking his head and putting out his cigarette. “We need to work on your entrances, but I feel like you might enjoy catching me off guard.”
Lestat just smiles serenely, but Louis snorts like he sees through it.
“So…checking in again, huh?” Louis asks, rueful.
“Yes, of course.” Lestat says.
Louis nods and begins, and Lestat tunes him out almost immediately to instead study how Louis looks up close, the determined glint in his eyes as he speaks, the ways his hands move to illustrate his points.
“Look,” Louis sighs suddenly, breaking Lestat out of his distracted reverie. “Are you actually interested in any of this? You just seem — distracted.” Louis says it like it’s not the word he wants to use.
Lestat blinks, doing his best to appear innocent. “To be honest, Louis, I just don’t understand a lot of what you talk about. It all sounds very complex.”
Louis flushes a little even as he casts a doubtful look at Lestat. “Too complex for a demon, huh?”
“Yes.” Lestat says, smiling. And it is, truthfully. Lestat perhaps lost the ability to learn new things a long time ago.
“So what should I update you on, then?”
Lestat is stumped, deciding that everything you think about is probably not a good answer. “How is your birthday?”
“Oh.” Louis looks faintly surprised. “It’s okay.” He shrugs. “You know how these things are.”
Lestat definitely does not, but he hums anyway. Louis takes out his cigarette case and takes another one out, then hesitates. “Do you, uh, want one?”
Lestat looks at them, feeling touched that Louis has offered. He hasn’t tried smoking before but if Louis is offering then Lestat will gladly take, consequences be damned. “I’ve never tried one before.”
“Here.” Louis says gruffly, pulling one out and handing it over. Lestat takes it and pauses, which Louis takes as his cue to guide Lestat’s hand to his own mouth until it settles between his lips. Lestat freezes a little at Louis’s warm touch on his hand as Louis lights up Lestat’s cigarette and then his own. Lestat numbly mimics his movements until he thinks he’s doing what Louis is.
Louis’s eyes watch him and Lestat sees when Louis’s gaze falls to his lips, his gaze going dark and his cheeks flushing. Lestat watches it happen curiously, wondering if, like Lestat, Louis is thinking about their kiss. Lestat hopes he is, if only so that he’s not the only one.
Lestat takes to smoking naturally and Louis notices, saying wryly, “Thought you’d cough a little like most people do.” His smile is friendly now, no sign of the darkness in his eyes from earlier.
Lestat hums. “One of my brothers enjoyed this and I never understood why. But I see the appeal.” He doesn’t have the right equipment to truly enjoy the effects of it, but there’s a soothing repetition to the motion of smoking, the inhalation and exhalation of it, the way the smoke curls around the air.
Louis looks dumbfounded for some reason. “Brother?”
Oh. Lestat waves a hand, “You know — brother in hell. Another demon. Abbadon is another crossroad demon, but he’s been stationed in Chile for the past couple of decades.”
“Abbadon.” Louis repeats, then says haltingly, “Do — do you have a name?”
Lestat covers up his surprise by smoking some more. He does, though of course he has never shared his name with another human. He thinks idly of how his name might sound coming out of Louis’s mouth in that accent of his and says, readily, “Yes. Lestat.”
“Lestat.” He was right, of course: it is incredible hearing Louis say it, the way the t's sound in his mouth.
“Do all demons have accents like yours? It’s French, isn't it?” Louis asks hesitantly.
Surprised for the second time that night, Lestat shrugs to cover it up. “It’s French, yes. I suppose I’ll lose the accent in time. Eventually. We don’t all sound the same, though.”
Louis nods and drops it, perhaps sensing that Lestat does not want to talk about it. Louis is sensitive to things like that, Lestat realizes, incredibly observant about other people.
It scares him suddenly, what Louis might observe about him. What he sees when he looks at Lestat.
He vanishes the cigarette and says brightly, “This was interesting. I suppose I should be going now.”
“Okay.” Louis says, a little unsure, and maybe, just maybe, a little disappointed. Lestat isn’t sure if he can trust his own eyes. “Will I see you nex—“
Lestat disappears to avoid the question. He suspects Louis knows the answer, anyway.
4
Lestat has been practicing self-control the past year. He hasn’t visited Louis again once, though he did come close several times. He’s acting insane, he thinks, like one of those demons that lose sight of themselves and have to be dragged back to Hell for a remedial lesson. Lestat shudders. That will not be him. He can control himself.
Still, on the day of Louis’s birthday, he is restless waiting for it to be late enough in the day to warrant a visit. It would be uncouth to show up at noon, so he settles for sunset.
When he appears, he’s in Louis’s room again and Louis is in the middle of putting a tie on in the mirror.
“Hello, Lestat.” He says, turning around to smile hesitantly. “You’re early today.”
“Hello, Louis.” Lestat replies, voice admittedly rough at the use of his name. He decides to distract himself by looking around the room, noticing a book on Louis’s bedside table and picking it up, asking, “Where are you going tonight?”
“Checking up on my spots, doing my rounds.” Louis says a little tiredly, then hesitates before asking. “Want to come?”
Lestat hums nonchalantly, but can’t hide the way he brightens at the invitation. “I suppose I do not have anything else to do tonight.”
“Great. Wait. No, not in those clothes, you’ll stand out.”
Lestat looks down at himself, vaguely insulted. “What is wrong with how I’m dressed?”
Louis’s mouth twitches like he can’t help it. “It’s just old-fashioned, that’s all. No one dresses like that anymore.”
Lestat scoffs. He is aware of that, of course, and thoroughly disapproves. Then again, he thinks, looking at Louis’s form, perhaps he was wrong about it all looking awful. Louis always manages to look excellent.
Louis is looking through his clothes, humming and muttering to himself, but Lestat simply has to focus on what he’s seen other men wear and he is easily able to change his clothing.
“Maybe you could try this—“
“No need, Louis.” Lestat says proudly, preening a little. “I figured it out.”
It’s a dark pinstriped suit, perhaps a little more obnoxious than what Louis would wear, but Lestat likes it. In fact, “I like this a lot.”
“Yes.” Louis says, clearing his throat. He’s looking at Lestat with something like dazed confusion, his gaze lingering around Lestat’s shoulders. “It’s perfect.”
“Are you okay, Louis?” Lestat asks, smug. If only he knew this is what it took to get Louis to look at him, he would have changed his wardrobe years ago.
Louis just rolls his eyes and they head out.
Lestat sits carefully in the seat next to him in the automobile, unable to resist the urge to run his hands over the leather of the seats, over the dashboard. It’s an interesting way to move about. Slow, of course, but interesting. Very human.
Louis is different in public than he is in private with Lestat. He sits very stiffly in his seat and studiously ignores all the curious looks people give them. Lestat doesn’t think it’s because they can tell what he is, though he is glad the night is dark enough to hide the vibrancy of his blue eyes. He’s been told they can be unsettling.
They stop outside a small establishment and Lestat looks around curiously. He’s been here before, but only to follow Louis, and it is strange to see people react to him.
A large woman comes out the front and approaches the automobile, casting a dubious and derisive look at Lestat before visibly dismissing him. “Hey boss, Larry didn’t show up. Again.”
Louis sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll take care of him tomorrow, thanks Brick.”
Brick just shrugs and hands him an envelope. Lestat reaches into her mind, curious about the people who get to see Louis everyday, and is unsurprised to find that though she doesn’t always enjoy her work, she is fond of, and respects, Louis. Of course.
It’s good to know other people appreciate Louis, even though Lestat feels a small amount of envy that they get to see Louis everyday. Okay, maybe more than a small amount.
Louis pulls out some bills out of the envelope and discreetly hands it to Brick.
“Thanks, boss.” Brick says with a small smirk, nodding at Lestat. “Have a good night. And happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” Louis says with a laugh and keeps driving.
“She likes you.” Lestat remarks casually. “And not just because of the money.”
Louis glances at him sideways. “Yeah? How’d you figure?”
“I saw it in her mind.”
Louis looks at him in alarm and then turns nervous. “You can do that?”
Lestat smiles, an admittedly evil one. “Don’t worry, Louis. I haven’t been able to hear your mind since we struck a deal. So I unfortunately cannot hear any of your naughty thoughts.”
Louis rolls his eyes but can’t hide his relief. They make a few more stops, and Louis looks curiously at Lestat after each one, like he wants to know what Lestat thinks.
“And that’s the end of it.” Louis says finally. “We can turn back around. It’s a quiet night. Which is good for me, because Grace might kill me if I’m late again.”
Lestat smiles softly at him. “You’ve done well for yourself, Louis.” It’s not close to what he really wants to say to Louis about how hard he works, how brilliant he is, how radiant, but it will do.
Louis flushes fiercely, and his voice is gruff when he says, “Only with your help. And there’s still so much to do.”
“No, Louis. This is all you.”
Louis smiles warmly at him, and Lestat simmers in that warmth for the rest of the ride.
When they pull up outside Louis’s house, he can hear the faint murmurs of conversation and laughter of what must be Louis’s guests inside.
“You wanna come in?” Louis says suddenly, surprising them both. He adds hesitantly, “It’s just some family and friends, I can tell them you’re—“
Lestat shakes his head, smiling. No. As tempting as it might be, he knows he shouldn’t. It was already dangerous to spend time with Louis in public like this, but to go inside where his family and friends are — “Better not mix too much with humans.” He laughs, a little stilted. “They’ll suspect something is wrong with me quickly enough.”
Louis looks disappointed. Lestat basks in it unashamedly. How good to feel like Louis might want him there, and he’s close to just saying never mind and going inside anyway. If that’s what Louis wants.
“Probably wouldn’t be fun for you anyway.” Louis admits. “It usually isn’t for me.”
“Another time, perhaps.”
“Next year.” Louis grins.
“Yes, see you next year, Louis.” Lestat gazes at his face, trying to memorize the shape of his smile, the way he smells. He won’t see this for another year. It’s a maddening thought. “Happy birthday.”
It has not been a year yet, but Lestat is back in Louis’s bedroom. But this time, it is not with joy or greed that he gazes upon Louis’s form, but with trepidation and a small amount of dread.
Louis is shivering in his bed, pale and sweaty, his family and a doctor gathered around his bed.
“Lestat?” Louis mumbles suddenly, freezing Lestat where he stands.
“What’s he saying?” Louis’s sister says, her voice alarmed. “He’s saying something.”
Lestat. That’s what he said. Louis must feel his presence in the room, invisible though he might be.
Louis’s mother shushes the sister as the doctor speaks in low tones, grim and serious. Lestat ignores him. Whatever he might think is wrong with Louis is irrelevant now that Lestat is here.
But he will have to wait until they’re alone. Paul is hovering at Louis’s bedside, reciting prayers Lestat vaguely recognizes from panicked humans.
The doctor advises them to let Louis rest for the night and to see how he is faring tomorrow, but Lestat can see in his expression that he thinks it is a useless endeavor. Lestat has to resist the urge to rip the man’s head off. How lucky for him that Lestat felt Louis’s soul quiver in terror tonight; otherwise this man would pay for Louis’s life.
Lestat waits in the corner for everyone to leave, though he notices with some alarm that Paul pauses and looks around the room warily before he leaves, placing particular focus on the corner where Lestat is. Lestat resists the urge to sigh. Of course it would be his luck (and Louis’s) to have a brother sensitive to the supernatural.
Finally alone, Lestat approaches Louis slowly, unveiling himself. The sight of Louis sick like this is making Lestat feel weak himself, as though he can physically feel what Louis is feeling. He is struck for the first time by how fragile human beings are and how close they come to death everyday even as they pretend to be invincible.
He breathes out carefully and lays a palm on Louis’s damp, cold forehead. It is a simple matter of extracting the illness from him, but Lestat does it gently, carefully. He does not want Louis’s body to go through the shock of a fast healing, especially since Lestat has not done this in a very long time. It is not often that humans trade their souls in for healing.
Eventually, warmth returns and healthy color begins flooding Louis’s face again. Lestat sighs, relieved, watching as Louis’s eyelids start twitching.
“Lestat?” He says in a raspy painful-sounding voice.
Lestat’s chest twists. “Yes, Louis.”
Louis sighs, relaxing at his voice. “Feel like shit.”
“The worst of it is over now.” Lestat says softly. “You will be back to normal tomorrow.”
“You did this?” Louis asks, eyes half-open.
“Yes.” Lestat can’t help the urge to smooth back some of the sweaty curls stuck to Louis’s forehead, the urge to keep touching him and soothing him. “I did not want to heal you too fast in case it seemed suspicious to your family. But I’ve done my best to keep the pain away.”
“Okay.” Louis says easily. “Thank you.”
Lestat pauses and brings his hand lower to brush his thumb against Louis’s cheek, shocked when Louis fumbles for it and squeezes it weakly.
“You must take better care of yourself.” Lestat whispers softly as Louis’s eyes begin closing again. “It is not your time yet.”
Louis laughs a little, and Lestat feels relief flood him at the evident proof that he feels better.
“Rest now, Louis.” Lestat says as he places his hand on Louis’s forehead again, sending him into a deep relaxing sleep.
He knows he’s done the healing correctly, just as he knows that the sleep he put Louis into will let him rest until morning. Still, he lingers in Louis’s bedroom for one, two, and then three hours anyway, just to make sure.
Paul walks the house that night with an open bottle of holy water, shaking it at the doors and windows and muttering prayers. Lestat watches him with some interest. Lestat was around when they spread that rumor about how to get rid of demons, and he’s amused to see it has stuck around. Even if the demon Louis’s brother wants to get rid of is him.
This time, it is impossible to spend time away from watching Louis, as Lestat begins to worry that for every minute Louis is out of his sight, he might be in danger.
He spends the rest of the months until Louis’s next birthday dropping in to see him every night, sometimes for just a few seconds, other times for longer. Just to see. Just to make sure he’s alive and healthy.
Lestat could probably convince himself that he’s just worried about keeping the deal, but he doesn’t want to waste the effort.
He’s too old to lie to himself anymore: Louis has become important to him.