Archive of Our Own

If being loved by Death meant no pain, then Death really fucking hated Daniel Molloy. 

Sitting on the floor just inside his Brooklyn apartment, waiting for the dots dancing in his vision to subside, Daniel knew that this was why vampires weren’t supposed to turn the sick. It was funny—in a horribly morbid sort of way that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled—to think of the vampires of yore scrambling to write that particular Great Law into existence. He could practically hear the footnote from millennia earlier as it echoed in the darkened foyer. 

Thou shalt not give the Dark Gift to children or the infirm, and especially not to Daniel fucking Molloy. 

The pill went down hard, a crushing dose of reality cutting him up from the inside out as it rained on his immortal parade, made worse still by the fact that Daniel didn’t understand why he seemed to be the exception to the wonders of vampiric magic. Armand had been poisoned before he died, and he’d seemed to recover just fine. The fact that Daniel hadn’t gotten a new, fresh off the lot lease on life when he’d had his soul sucked out through his neck was, to put it mildly, pissing him the fuck off. 

It also didn’t help that ever since they’d realized something was “not quite right” with The Vampire Danny Boy Molloy, Armand had started hovering. Not off the ground—which would have at least been more amusing. Just…watching. More than usual. He peered around corners and listened on the other side of walls, and Daniel was grinding his teeth so hard he’d had to stop and wonder if there were such a thing as vampire dentists. 

He wondered, not for the first time, if karmic retribution was finally catching up to him a few decades too late. See, Daniel had always been the observer in life; he was always the one who moved through the world with a sharp eye, finding stories on the margins and in castaways, picking up on subtle cues and piecing puzzles together. He had never liked being observed himself, and several stints in rehab did nothing to improve his taste for being monitored. 

Armand had always been and would always be his only exception. Their cat and mouse romance across the world woke something in him; Armand liked to watch Daniel, and Daniel craved every second of Armand’s attention. 

Sometimes, Armand watched Daniel like he was a bug in a jar, just waiting to see what he would do next, and it set Daniel’s heart racing in a way that was concerning to romantics everywhere. Armand stared at him even in sleep, his own gothic guardian angel, like no one else could ever compare to the fascination Daniel held for him. 

Daniel ate that shit up. And now that he was a vampire too, clingy hardly covered their mutual obsession with each other. So it wasn’t that Daniel minded Armand hovering per se; he just greatly preferred when it was because Armand wanted to fuck him, and not when he was afraid that Daniel was going to keel over and die. Again. 

Armand had already been struggling with the lack of access to Daniel’s thoughts since he’d been turned, and these…episodes—the ones that had left him gasping for breath he wasn’t supposed to need on the floor of his apartment—were only exacerbating the problem. Daniel was pretty sure that if his fledglinghood had progressed as normal, Armand would have adjusted to the sudden silence with more ease. He would have learned to trust that things were going well without the constant reassurance of checking in with Daniel’s brain. Given the circumstances though, it was not going well, and each time he stared at Daniel with poorly concealed self-loathing, Daniel couldn’t help but wonder if the resentment Armand feared between fledglings and their makers really went the other way. 

Without the ability to dip into Daniel’s thoughts at a moment’s notice, Armand had taken to doing all of his mental checking out loud, appearing next to him and asking him if he was all right, if he needed anything, if he was thirsty, hungry, horny, angry about five hundred times a day. His new favorite tic was cataloguing and pointing out any discrepancies that might prove Daniel was lying or Daniel was forgetting or Daniel wasn’t okay. 

Daniel was lying sometimes, as much as anyone did. He wasn’t forgetting. And deep down, he knew he wasn’t okay. 

It was still annoying, though, and one night Daniel had yelled that if Armand didn’t cut it out, they were going to need couples’ therapy. After that, Armand had taken to more subtle ways of watching Daniel, clearly forgetting that since Daniel was now a vampire too, he could feel Armand just as strongly through their bond. Daniel put the lessons of two failed marriages to good use and kept his mouth shut. 

Daniel laid back on the floor, hoping that being fully supine might help his head stop swimming. It usually took a good five minutes before his vision completely returned to normal and the ringing din in his ears went away. The dizziness, though…that, by far, was his least favorite symptom, and it had only been getting worse by the day. The thought of it being around forever, of being trapped like this in unending immortality, made a panicked sob rise in his chest. He swallowed the sound down as well as he could; he didn’t want Armand to come running. If he saw Daniel lying on the ground, he wouldn’t stay in his hiding place, and the indignity felt like too much to bear. 

The uncomfortable prick of tears in his eyes just made Daniel feel worse. He hated this. He hated feeling out of control. Feeling weak. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He had ancient blood in his veins. He was supposed to be strong, a prodigy. Someone Armand could be proud of. He had made it through a lifetime, one full of mistakes and circumstances and bad decisions that should’ve gotten him killed much sooner, and he had survived them all, just to end up where he was now. Cold and alone on a laminate floor. The merciless vampire, afraid of the dark.

He was dead, and he couldn’t even do that right. 

He failed to keep the next sob as quiet, squeezing his eyes shut behind the glasses he wore out of habit rather than need. Armand had replaced the lenses with plain glass when he saw how inexplicably sad that one loss had made Daniel. Armand was always doing things like that for him. His lover, his maker, his companion… 

Daniel felt another wave of anger surge up, but not at Armand. Whatever was happening to him was turning him into someone he didn’t like, someone who felt the shame of his own existence so deeply that he snapped at the being he loved most like an untrained dog baring its teeth. None of this was Armand’s fault, not even his overprotectiveness. Armand had been equally traumatized by their nearly forty years apart. He knew that. And if it were Armand who this was happening to, Daniel would be out of his mind with worry, banging down every door to find the answer. 

So why was he such a prick about Armand’s overbearing behavior? Daniel was his fledgling after all. Even if they hadn’t been soulmates, surely Armand would have felt some pull, some responsibility to care. 

Aye, there’s the rub. 

He let the tears run down the side of his face without wiping them away, without moving at all. What was the point? Maybe if he laid there long enough, he would decay and become one with the engineered wood, just unnatural enough to be useful still. Then Armand could move on and finally have something he deserved. He would be better off. If Daniel could just find it in him to be noble enough to abandon that thing inside everyone that clawed its way to the surface when faced with death. If he could just stay still and silent… 

Daniel didn’t have to open his eyes to know that the slight shift in the air next to him was his maker. Armand wasn’t breathing, wasn’t touching him, though Daniel could sense the way his fingers twitched towards him. Whether it was more for Daniel’s comfort or his own, he didn’t care. Daniel needed it too. He reached out and took Armand’s hand, bringing it to his chest. He heard the soft gasp as Armand sucked in a breath, but he didn’t say anything, and Daniel was grateful for it.

The familiar heaviness of the summer air usually wrapped him gently in its balmy atmosphere, but it had turned suffocating now as it pressed in against his lungs on all sides. Daniel clutched Armand’s palm against the beating of his pointless heart and let the blood tears track down the sides of his face and into his hair. 

Slowly, Armand curled himself against the side of Daniel’s body, his arm a cool, welcome weight against Daniel’s frame. Never letting go of Armand’s hand, Daniel lay in the dark with his maker and surrendered to the night as silent sobs rent his heart in two. 

Daniel stood in front of the bathroom mirror as he waited for the tub to fill with water and scratched at the red, dry patch of skin on his chest. Violent feelings of déjà vu bombarded his psyche, leaving him almost lightheaded. He stared at the inflamed skin and clenched his teeth. 

He was used to it, or he had been—that irritated little square of skin that appeared when he removed the 4x4 inch adhesive dressing that sat there all week long. But it had been a while…he’d been alive the last time—another fact he was reminded of as his sharp nails did damage to the fragile skin. In the unflattering light, Daniel looked as old as he felt. He poked as gently as he could at the little piece of metal and plastic sitting just beneath his skin, three inches below his clavicle on the right side of his chest, and tried not to recoil. 

Daniel had not wanted a central line when his doctors first proposed it almost two years ago. The idea of having an IV permanently embedded under his skin and threaded directly into his fucking heart was not exactly his idea of a good time, former needle enthusiasm be damned. (Actually, the fact that his doctors weren’t worried about his previous addictive tendencies was a bit offensive, if you asked him, like they’d already decided he wasn’t gonna live long enough for it to matter if he went off the deep end and used his fancy new direct access vein for something more illicit.) 

Still, the appeal of being a cyborg was lost on Daniel, and he resented the implanted little fucker even before he’d agreed to it (and he had, eventually, agreed to it, though he would dramatically claim it was under duress if pressed). Unfortunately for Daniel’s ego, it was immediately obvious that his doctors had made the right call. They’d decided on a port-a-cath because it was a little less obvious than the other options, since the only time anything was visible was when the needle was in place. Whenever it was time for his levodopa infusion, a nurse would come to Daniel’s home and access his port by placing a specialized needle into it, dress it so it stayed sterile, and voilà—instant access to his bloodstream. Eventually Daniel had the nurse teach him how to do it himself because there was nothing that made him want to die more than listening to a twenty-five year old yap at him in a customer service voice and ask how his bowel movements were. 

So he’d learned how to do it himself, and begrudgingly admitted that his healthcare was a lot easier with it; it certainly made getting his infusions a lot less cumbersome. The levodopa infusion was a little less stressful when it didn’t mean sitting still with an IV in his arm for the entire day. Honestly, that would’ve been reason enough if he’d known how much he preferred things with a central line, but it proved to be the gift that kept on giving. As his Parkinson’s progressed and his body started to fail, they’d used it for other things too—potassium, iron, even fucking saline. It was even useful for symptom management. Who knew IV antiemetics were so good? 

He started using his port so much that they switched to only accessing it once a week and leaving the needle in for seven days until it was time to take it out and place a new one. Daniel liked this a little less, if only because it meant he couldn’t take a normal shower without the added effort of making sure the line stayed dry, but it was still a thousand times better than getting poked in the arm every week. And he needed the help the meds were giving him…more than he was prepared to admit. Parkinson’s was tearing him apart faster than he could adjust to the symptoms. Dizziness, headaches, an inability to stand for long without a fifty-fifty shot of passing out. Honestly, without the central line, he wasn’t sure he would’ve even made it long enough for Louis’ tapes to arrive. 

For Armand to find him again. 

Of course, Daniel couldn’t have foreseen that he’d end up in a position where he couldn’t permanently change anything about his body back when he agreed to it. And now it was just…there. For all eternity. If Daniel had known that he was taking a one-way human trip to Dubai, he would’ve gotten the damn thing removed before he died. Seeing it there now, the outline of it just beneath his skin, the indentation paling just a bit where he pressed on it, made Daniel’s stomach turn. If he’d had enough blood in his system, he would’ve blushed with the embarrassment of it all. What kind of fuckass vampire walked around with a goddamn central line in their chest—forever? It didn’t exactly scream super strong nepo fledgling. 

And Daniel was strong! He had inherited so many of Armand’s gifts. And he loved how much Armand loved that. Daniel couldn’t help but soak up the attention, the pride he felt from Armand through their bond over how capable and impressive his fledgling was. He was only a former human after all, and Armand’s praise was like no drug he’d ever tried; his love, too. Daniel loved a lot of things about Armand, but being loved by the most interesting, singular, gorgeous creature to ever walk the planet when he himself was old and gray, knowing that no other vampires would mess with them because of how strong they were and how insane Armand was about Daniel…well, that shit never got old. Who could ever feel self-conscious when Armand was your maker and in love with you? Not Daniel. 

Well, not Daniel most days. 

Today was not one of those days. 

Daniel pressed his palms to the edge of the vanity, leaning his weight into it as he hung his head and exhaled the stale air he’d been holding for too long. 

This was ridiculous; he felt ridiculous. 

Things had been going so well… 

After Armand had turned him, Daniel had felt better than he had in years. Suddenly he could run, he could fly (well, he could sort of hover, but Armand was still impressed), he could fuck without the need for little blue pills. He was in love with life and with his maker and high on the euphoria of it all. It had almost been unbelievable, to fall mortality first into the life he had once longed for and forgotten. 

Armand was the love he had been missing without even knowing it. Armand, who had returned his memories and begged on his knees for Daniel’s forgiveness. Armand, whose blood was his blood, who he could sense anywhere in existence, who he never wanted to be apart from again. Sure, Daniel was still mad about some things, but he had forever to get over it. Armand had pressed his lips to Daniel’s skin from where he knelt on the ground of that floor in Dubai and looked up at him with such devotion that Daniel had reacted instinctively, scooping him up with a possessive growl and taking him to bed. They kissed and cried and fucked about their problems for two weeks straight and had been nearly inseparable since. 

But eventually, Daniel started to feel the come down. The high of turning was wearing off and something…wasn’t right. Another month and Armand started to notice too, started to look concerned, started asking more questions and then resorting to silent watchfulness. A few more weeks before the tension led to a blowout fight where Armand threatened to lock Daniel in his coffin while he summoned the doctor and Daniel had stormed out and Daniel had run too far, too fast, too much, too much, too much, until he was lying on the floor in the entryway with Armand curled into his side, and he knew. He knew. 

Daniel looked up at himself in the mirror and he could see it written all over his face—the heartbreak, the anger, the defeat. Yesterday had turned out to be one of the worst days of Daniel’s life, and it showed on his skin, in the weariness of his eyes, the deep lines that made him look gaunt. He knew that vampires couldn’t age, but he felt that he had. 

Because yesterday, Dr. Fareed Bhansali had appeared at their front door, at Armand’s behest—and insistence. Daniel had liked Fareed well enough in Dubai, though he was genuinely surprised to learn that the man was still alive. But seeing him in his Brooklyn apartment made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. 

They all wound up in the living room, in a strange approximation of their last meeting. Daniel’s skin itched, his fingers twitched towards the door, and he wanted to run. But he looked at Armand and froze. His eyes…the fear in them—the fear for him, the love for him—and he knew there was no way out of what was about to happen. He sighed, resigning himself to it, and reluctantly agreed to be examined. 

Thus began a series of seemingly endless questions about every facet of Daniel’s health. He bristled at that immediately, arms coming up to cross in front of his chest; was reminded again that he hated being the one observed, but there was nothing for it—Armand was perched on the arm of a nearby couch, watching, watching, watching. The elder vampire was drawn in on himself like a coil wound too tight, big owlish eyes fixed on Daniel going rounder still as the truth became suspect, then likely, then undeniable. 

Something was wrong with Daniel. 

Armand never looked away, but Daniel couldn’t bear to hold his gaze. His eyes fell to his lap as the doctor’s words became muffled, his ears ringing. The questions were unimportant; the answers didn’t change anything. Daniel had heard enough to understand, had heard it all before. 

He was sick. He had lived and gotten sick, and died and stayed sick, and now he had dragged them both into a hell that he was sure Armand had not meant to sign them up for. The flighty maker and the crippled fledgling who would never be quite right. It was humiliating—way worse than when he had picked up an STI in the 80s and had to call everyone he’d slept with in the previous six months to let them know. Way worse. 

Daniel had to be the first fucking vampire in history to be made broken. 

Without Armand’s ancient blood, he probably wouldn’t have even survived this long, might not have survived the turning at all, just become one of those revenants who never had a chance. The other vamps would’ve scented out his weakness and taken him down. Maybe that would’ve been merciful. Maybe it would’ve been better if he’d gone down early before he and Armand had a brush with the taste of their former happiness. 

Maybe he wouldn’t have felt so bad about it all if Armand didn’t look horrified. But he did. He was staring at Daniel like he’d never seen him before, and Daniel didn’t feel fascinating anymore. He felt grotesque. Armand’s mouth parted slightly, the sorrow in his eyes turning to rage as he finally looked at Fareed. 

“Fix it.” 

Fix it. 

Fix it. 

Fix it. 

Fix it. Like all Daniel needed was a pill, or a surgery, or something quantifiable that would turn back the clock on everything his body had been through. Because Armand didn’t know, hadn’t really known the full extent of Daniel’s illness. He didn’t even know Daniel had a port until he’d changed him. Daniel went to Dubai with his port deaccessed, no needle in place, and he still had enough meat on his bones that all you could see was the faint scar above it, and the tiny one on his jugular where they threaded the line into his heart. Unless you were feeling for the three dots of the triangle around the edges of the reservoir, you’d never know it was there. Next to the bite mark, it was nothing. 

Daniel knew Fareed had noticed it immediately in Dubai. He had seen the little scab in the center of the triangle where the needle usually sat. Fareed had made eye contact with Daniel, and Daniel had shaken his head just a little bit, not wanting the good doctor to rat him out to the world’s two nosiest vampires. And so Fareed, good guy that he was, said nothing and used his left antecubital vein instead. 

And Armand had never known. 

But boy did he know now. 

He had noticed the port at some point, of course. It would’ve been impossible to be breathing each other’s air that closely for months without noticing, but he didn’t pause for even a moment. And Daniel loved that, loved the way he brushed it off without a second thought—even as curious as Armand always was—because who would care to focus on some vestigial medical device when there was so much makeup sex to be had? But the longer Fareed spoke, the more Daniel knew the pieces were clicking together, for both of them, and he could feel Armand’s eyes on him, could almost hear the Look at me through their bond, though he knew he couldn’t. Nor could he bear to look at him, not with rivers of shame running through his veins. 

Fareed was talking, but Daniel didn’t hear a word, his head a buzz of static, everything sounding like he was underwater. He didn’t tune back in until Armand’s voice cut through the haze with a, “So fix it,” once again.  

Daniel pulled his arms across his chest with a mirthless laugh, finally looking at Armand. “Regretting making me, boss?” 

Armand’s big orange eyes were nearly vibrating with panic as he stared at Daniel and said nothing. And then he looked away. 

Well, that hurt. 

But Daniel didn’t say anything, just swallowed the lump in his throat down to join the rest of his sorrow while Fareed sighed. 

“Daniel’s condition was too far progressed as a human for vampirism to totally erase all of the damage. I’m surprised he didn’t feel the effects sooner.” 

“The effects of what?” Daniel snapped. He was tired of this. Tired of being looked at with pity, with horror. Tired, tired, so tired of feeling faint and dizzy and his vision blacking out and being so exhausted that he felt like he couldn’t move. He wanted Fareed out of his house, wanted Armand out of his line of sight. He wanted to escape his own skin, but that wasn’t an option, so if nothing else, he wanted to be done talking about this. The faster they stopped dancing around it all, the sooner he could be alone. 

The doctor blinked. “Hypovolemia.” 

“Hypo…” Armand trailed off. “Daniel’s problem is that he doesn’t have enough blood?” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Daniel chimed in. “I drained two guys this morning.” 

Fareed looked like he was employing many expensive years of training not to call Daniel an idiot. Instead, he calmly explained, “When you were human, you used your central line for hydration, correct?” 

Daniel bristled again at the mention of his least favorite accessory. “Yeah. And?” 

Fareed shrugged. “This is similar. The problem when you were human was that your autonomic nervous system was failing, so you couldn’t hydrate properly or sufficiently solely through oral means as your disease progressed. You had to infuse it directly into your veins. And now that you’re a vampire…” 

“Daniel’s fangs are magnificent,” Armand stated, crossing his arms and looking almost offended. 

The automatic defense of him, the lack of understanding and the guard dog behavior… Daniel wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, a little of the knot in his stomach loosening. 

“It’s not a problem with his fangs,” Fareed said. “It’s not an issue of being physically unable to drink. It’s that his body doesn’t…route the blood correctly. It’s why he’s feeling lightheaded and fainting. There isn’t enough blood in his veins to keep him upright.” 

“So fix it,” Armand said again, eyes bright orange. 

He’s scary when he’s angry. And hot when he’s scary. Daniel shifted a little on the couch, trying to inconspicuously adjust his jeans which now felt uncomfortably tight. Apparently his blood didn’t have any problem traveling down his body. 

Not that Daniel was feeling particularly sexy at that moment. 

“I can’t fix it,” Fareed said, and his tone belied that he too was getting a little exasperated with the declarative. Daniel thought that was awfully brave when staring down the barrel of Death himself. “But it might be possible to use his port to infuse blood the same way he infused saline when he was alive. We can’t do it peripherally because the skin would heal too quickly, but the port is already there. We may be able to use it.” He turned to Daniel. “Having that may have saved your life. It’s not like we can put one in once someone is already turned, and without it… I think you wouldn’t have long before you’d go mad from thirst.” And throw yourself into the fire, Fareed thought but wisely did not say, though it was loud enough for Daniel to hear. 

Loud enough for Armand too; the threatening noise that left his throat was one Daniel had never heard, and Fareed quickly took his leave after that. He did promise however to come back the next day with some supplies to test the theory. If it worked, then they would figure out how to set Daniel up with a home infusion company to send him port supplies. And with some heavily greased palms, they’d be able to get medical grade blood bags as well. 

As soon as Fareed was gone, Armand stood and turned to him. 

“Daniel—” 

But Daniel put his hand out, palm up towards Armand, halting him in his tracks. Whatever it was Armand wanted to say at that moment, Daniel couldn’t handle it. “I’m…gonna go up to the roof for a bit.” 

Armand shifted his weight as if he wanted to reach out towards him, but he didn’t. His face took on that eerily blank quality and he placed his hands behind his back. “As you wish.” 

Daniel dropped his gaze to the floor and nodded. Saying nothing, he left. 

He’d stayed up there for hours, chainsmoking cigarettes and looking out across the city. It was a familiar sight; Armand had had no problem with Daniel wanting to continue living in Brooklyn for a while. Usually the constancy of the sight comforted Daniel, the skyline more or less the same throughout years of uncertainty. Any changes that were made were slow, organic, marking the passage of time like the change of the seasons. Daniel had always liked that. 

But that night, looking out at the familiar skyline felt like being caught in a downpour and Daniel was drowning in long overdue grief. The city still stretched out before him, but even in its stillness, it was capable of more, of becoming, of growing into something wondrous and unpredictable. Daniel, frozen in time, was incapable of even that. 

He watched as the sky began to lighten, leaving it as long as he could before he thought Armand would seek him out. He did not want to be found. Stubbing out the cigarette, he headed back inside. 

When Daniel crawled into bed, in their room where his lover had ensured no sun would reach them, Armand was curled up to the far edge of one side, tucked into himself. Daniel wasn’t sure if Armand really believed he was selling the whole sleeping act, or if he was just hoping for an out. 

Daniel gave it to him. Slipping under the sheets, he stayed on his side of the bed while his maker kept as wide a distance from his mistake as he could manage. If Armand could smell the bloody tears as they stained Daniel’s pillowcase, he said nothing. 

The next evening, when Fareed arrived, they had still barely spoken. 

Fareed returned with the supplies he’d promised and set about conducting their little experiment—not that Daniel needed any more help feeling like a lab rat. He’d accessed Daniel’s port and run a small bag of blood through it, one he’d gotten from a hospital, not from wherever Armand’s farm-sourced ones showed up from. Daniel hadn’t even realized how much he was banking on Fareed’s idea to work until he felt the relief flood his body the moment it proved successful. The effect really was instantaneous; of course, it would take a lot more blood and a bit of time before things truly improved, but the immediate relief from some of his worst symptoms made Daniel’s eyes prick with tears. Every moment that the blood flowed into him, he felt himself come back a little farther from the brink. Even if things weren’t normal yet, Daniel knew the doctor had been right. 

Fareed promised to come back as soon as he could secure more supplies and sterile blood. Armand had been uncharacteristically quiet during the encounter, sticking towards the perimeter of the room and only speaking up at the end to ask Fareed whether cash or credit would be best. 

Daniel had slipped out of the room quietly and made his way down the hall to the bathroom. 

Now, he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as the last few inches of the tub filled with water. He poked the little device in his chest again. Sometimes, when he was alive, it still felt foreign, even after almost two years. He wondered if he would ever feel normal with it now, this little thing that held so much promise and marked him as different all the same. 

He turned towards the tub, sitting on the edge to shut off the tap, the steam of the tantalizingly scalding bathwater calling to his dead, cold limbs. In life, he would have waited at least an hour after de-accessing before getting in the water, to make sure the hole in his skin had had a bit of time to close first, but one of the perks of being a vampire was rapid wound healing. 

At least I got something right. 

He hadn’t heard footsteps, but suddenly Armand was there, standing in the doorway. His stunning companion stood at the threshold in uncertain silence, and Daniel had an errant thought about vampires waiting to be invited in. It would have been funny, but Daniel didn’t feel like laughing; it was already everything he could do not to pull a towel against his chest in embarrassment. He had never felt embarrassed in front of Armand before, not even in his aged skin, but suddenly everything about his body felt wrong. Undesirable. He had the crazy impulse to slide into the water still wearing his jeans. 

But he sat there, bravely holding Armand’s gaze, and waited. 

Armand’s eyes took him in slowly, roving his body in a way where Daniel couldn’t decide whether it made him feel more like a boyfriend or a bug. Maybe to Armand he would always be both. 

“Can I join you?” 

Daniel swallowed. “Sure.” 

They undressed silently, Daniel feeling stupid for how much he was avoiding Armand’s eyes. He was grateful, for once, that Armand couldn’t read his mind anymore. He didn’t need anyone else seeing how much shame had buried itself inside the nooks and crannies of all his usual thoughts. 

When they slipped into the water and Armand pulled Daniel against him so Daniel’s back was to Armand’s chest, Daniel felt unexpected relief. It made him feel small, almost mortal again, to sit between Armand’s legs like he had in his 20s, and the easy intimacy was a balm to his fragile heart. The tension seeped from his muscles as Armand ran his fingers through Daniel’s hair, grounding him. He liked feeling like the young, stupid, human boy that this creature had taken notice of. That he had deemed worthy, even as fucked up and flawed as he was. 

They always had seen the best in each other. 

He let Armand go through the motions, lathering up his hair, raking his nails over Daniel’s scalp, tilting Daniel’s head back and using a cup they kept on the ledge to rinse the shampoo out. 

With his eyes closed as he leaned back and let Armand tend to him, feeling both a little braver and a little bit at his wit’s end, Daniel finally broke the silence. 

“You know, you never answered my question.” 

Armand paused for only a moment before continuing, pouring one more cup of water through Daniel’s hair. “Which one?” 

“Do you regret making me?” 

Daniel felt Armand freeze, his body suddenly tense. He waited, not even breathing as his heart went a mile a minute, the sword of Damocles hanging over his head. 

Armand seemed to consciously make the effort to relax one part of his body at a time before saying, quietly, “Don’t.” 

Daniel laughed, but he wanted to cry. It wasn’t exactly the answer he’d been hoping for, but there was no going back now. “I’m genuinely asking.” 

“Why must you do this?” Armand’s voice was snippy, exasperation dripping from every word. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Daniel’s own indignation was rearing its head. It made it easier to push down those feelings of inadequacy. His instinct to fight was just as strong if not stronger than Armand’s, and he let it fill him up. 

Maybe he hadn’t really learned anything from those marriages at all. 

“You’re deliberately trying to get a rise out of me and I do not know why. Now sit still and let me detangle your hair.” 

A flush rose up Daniel’s body that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. He felt like a misbehaving child, still being reprimanded, even in death. Well fuck that. 

“No. Fuck my hair.” He turned in the tub, as much as he could, and met his maker’s gaze—vibrant and orange, and knew his own eyes would be a mirror. “Stop avoiding the question, Armand.” 

Armand sucked in his cheeks, lips pursed as his eyes began to vibrate the smallest amount, and Daniel realized it all at once. 

He wasn’t angry. He was scared. 

Daniel deflated, all the fight going out of him. No matter what Armand did, Daniel’s first instinct was to protect him, even if his own heart got smashed up in the process. 

“I would understand,” Daniel said, voice much quieter and softer now, hand aching to take Armand’s and lace their fingers together. “I mean it. I…you didn’t know about all of this before you chained yourself to me for eternity. Even if we weren’t…this, we would still have that maker-fledgling bond. That’s not fair to you either. I—I’m sorry.” His voice broke on the last word, but he forced himself not to look away. 

Armand made a choked sound in the back of his throat and closed his eyes, inhaling a shaky breath through his nose. Daniel knew this face too, hated this face, because this was how Armand looked right before he cried. Sure enough, a single blood tear escaped through his lashes and down his cheek. 

“Daniel…” His voice cracked, lip trembling, and Daniel watched as he pressed them together in a hard line, trying to get himself under control. Daniel chanced running his fingers gently up and down Armand’s arm; even if his maker didn’t want him anymore, he would always have this need—this ache—to take away Armand’s pain. He would always want to soothe the man whose life had been unforgivably unfair for five centuries, who had done horrible, unforgivable things himself in the name of survival. Who Daniel loved unconditionally anyway. 

“It’s okay,” Daniel told him gently, meaning it, even as his heart broke. “It’s okay.” 

Armand’s eyes flew open. “No, Daniel, it’s not okay. I—” He swallowed, expression panicked. 

Daniel wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to hold it together. He wasn’t sure he’d ever experienced anything as painful as watching his soulmate try to find the words to leave him. 

He swallowed hard and bravely said, “I know. It’s fucked up, it is. It’s—it’s all right. I’ll figure something out. I’m not mad.” 

Armand tilted his head, squinting at Daniel in that way he did when he was trying to understand something. “What are you talking about?” 

He was going to make him say it out loud? Daniel sighed. Fine. “I mean, I’ll see if Louis has a spare room or something I can crash in for a while. I don’t want you to have to find somewhere new. You love this place.” He shrugged one shoulder. Brooklyn might have been his home longer, but Armand’s imprint was all over the apartment. He didn’t think he could stay in it anyway. 

Armand’s bottom lip trembled. “You…want to leave?” 

Daniel was getting more confused by the minute. “I mean, not really? But you decorated this place and you have your blenders all categorized in the closet and you’ve been painting that mural on the ceiling in the bedroom. I just…you never get to stay.” I want you to have that, for once. 

Armand’s face broke, his voice small and childlike in the quiet. “So you are leaving me?” 

Daniel blinked quickly, utterly lost. “I don’t understand.” 

“I know you are angry with me,” Armand said quickly, arms crossing over his chest protectively. “But I…I would spend…” He turned his head, cutting himself off, fighting back emotions that were clearly desperate to burst forth. His exhale before he tried again shook his whole body. “I know I can never make it up to you, but please, Daniel, I…” His voice got smaller still. Quiet, imploring. “Please don’t go.” 

Daniel froze, no part of him moving except for the blinking of his eyes that seemed to clear nothing. 

“Please,” Armand begged, meeting his eye. “Please,” he mouthed one more time. 

That woke Daniel up, and he shook his head. “Armand, I don’t want to leave you. Ever. I thought…I thought…” He exhaled heavily, pushing a hand through his wet curls. “You never said no.” 

Armand’s brows drew together. “No to what?” 

Daniel laughed and looked away, the pain of the question too great no matter how many times he said it. “I keep asking you if you regret making me, and you can barely look at me, let alone answer the question. So I’ve been left to draw my own conclusions here.” 

It was silent for a long moment, until he finally looked back at Armand. Armand, who was looking at him with such…love. And such pain. 

“No, Daniel. That is not a decision I regret.” 

Daniel’s heart beat faster but he was afraid, so afraid to believe it and be wrong. “No?” he asked, voice more breath than words. 

Armand shook his head. He reached out and cupped the side of Daniel’s face with his palm, and Daniel melted into it, his heart beating faster still. “How could I regret you for even a moment, beloved? I could not imagine living in a world where you do not exist.” 

Daniel felt his chest constrict, a tight sound catching between his ribs. He breathed out shakily, trying to keep his own lip from trembling as he smirked out of habit, but the effort fell flat. He had nothing left to hide his emotions, and knew Armand could see the fear plain as day when he asked, “Even though you didn’t sign up for this?” 

Armand’s hands moved so fast Daniel almost slipped, but his lover pulled him so he was sitting fully in his lap, cupping his face with both hands. Daniel felt dizzy with it all, but every place his body touched Armand’s where he straddled him healed a piece of his aching soul. Armand brought their foreheads together, long fingers pressed gently to the sides of Daniel’s face. “I signed up for you, my beautiful boy. And I would do so a thousand times more, and a thousand times after that. Until the sun gets so hot it scorches the earth and us with it.” 

Daniel couldn’t help the way his entire body shook as he sat there, trying to absorb this creature’s impossible words. No one had ever chosen Daniel like that. He knew who he was; abrasive, obsessive, hard-headed. Put his foot in his mouth more often than not. A workaholic who treated people like stories and always failed to write a successful one in his own life. He understood why everyone left, and that was before the burden of this illness took hold. So how was he to believe that Armand wanted him like this? Now? Forever? 

“I would understand,” was all he said again. 

“Daniel.” Armand’s voice was stern, but not unkind. “Listen to me. Look at me. Are you listening?” 

Daniel reluctantly made eye contact. A small nod. 

“I do not regret turning you. I do not. Whether you are ill or not. No matter what kind of vampire you turn out to be. Even whether you one day decide that you no longer want me.” His voice softened again. “I cannot, ever, regret you. Turning you was the most selfish, cowardly thing I’ve ever done, deciding that I could not bear to lose you. But as long as you walk this earth, I do not care about the rest.” 

But you haven’t been able to talk to me. Look at me. Touch me. 

He didn’t need to say it out loud for Armand to see insecurity in his eyes. 

He sighed. “If I regret anything,” Armand said, and Daniel braced himself, “it is only that I caused you this pain. I did this.” His voice broke on the last few words. 

Well, that’s not at all what Daniel was expecting. “What? How in the world do you figure that?” 

“I condemned you to a fate where you are stuck like this.” 

“Sick,” Daniel whispered, and he did not try to hold back the bloody tears that tracked down his face anymore. 

“No,” Armand said, forcefully. “In pain. I…I could have prevented this specific outcome if only I had listened to you earlier. I could have saved you the pains of your disease if I had turned you any of those millions of times you’d asked me to. Or any time after that, as I watched you throughout your life. Or when I first heard you had fallen ill. I didn’t know—that…that doesn’t matter. You got worse and the damage was done and then I…I took you for myself. I thought the tradeoff was fair, that I was giving you a gift, a life, in exchange for my own selfish love for you, and now—” Armand choked back a sob. 

“Hey,” Daniel said, pressing his palms to either side of Armand’s face too, so they held each other closely. “No. No. This isn’t your fault, baby.” He felt Armand’s shaky breath against his lips, but he kept going. This was too important not to say. “I know we have stuff to work through, I know you know that. It’ll probably take a couple years to fully get over all the mindwipe stuff, and I’m sure we’ll fight about other stuff along the way. But that’s just how love goes, yeah? I’m not harboring any resentment for you not turning me sooner. Wouldn’t have my daughters if you had, even if they don’t like me much. The world’s still better with them in it. And I was kind of an idiot in my 20s, anyway. I think I know how to love you better now. So yeah, it sucked that I got sick, I won’t lie about that, but I don’t blame you for any of this.” 

“You should,” Armand whispered. 

“You don’t get to decide that for me, and you wanting to blame yourself for me being sick now doesn’t make it true. I understand why you did what you did. You know that right?” Daniel watched Armand’s throat constrict as he swallowed. “Armand, baby, love of my fucking life…none of this is your fault.” 

Armand shook his head, but he didn’t move away, didn’t break the connection between them. “It is selfish, I know, to be worried that you will resent me for this when I should only be worried about you.” 

“Nah, babe, that’s just human.” He leaned in until their noses brushed affectionately before pulling back just enough to press a kiss to the tip of Armand’s. “I don’t resent you. And I sure as hell don’t blame you.” 

Armand exhaled a shaky breath. 

“I…” Daniel continued, the flush of embarrassment coursing through him once more as he tried to force the words out. “If anything I thought you…ya know…” 

Armand leaned back a bit, meeting Daniel’s eye and tilting his head in a way Daniel always found adorable. “What?” 

Daniel shrugged. “I mean, you finally make a vampire and look what you get stuck with. I thought maybe you’d wanna take off.” 

Armand leaned in and pressed his lips lightly to Daniel’s, his fingers curling possessively, reassuringly in his hair. Daniel melted into it, just as much putty in Armand’s hands as he’d always been. 

“So, I don’t repulse you?” Daniel asked, only half-joking.  

Armand let one corner of his mouth pull up as his gaze fell across Daniel’s face like he was memorizing him. “Impossible,” he said. “You are mine.” 

Daniel huffed a shaky laugh as his stomach did a nervous, hopeful flip. “You sure you still want me like that? Even old and sick and—” 

Armand didn’t give him a chance to finish that sentence. He surged forward almost violently, kissing Daniel with unexpected force. One hand stayed wrapped in his hair and the other pressed Daniel’s lower back to bring him flush against Armand. Daniel groaned at the feeling of their bodies pressed together after so long, unable to move for how tightly Armand held him against himself. He loved reminders of just how strong Armand truly was—how powerful he was beneath the delicate façade. 

They were practically attacking each other’s mouths, hands sliding everywhere, all over each other like it had been decades instead of days, unable to decide where they most needed to touch first. They came up for breath eventually, out of habit more than anything, their hearts beating fast and in sync. 

“Okay,” Daniel panted. “Okay, fuck, I believe you.” 

Armand looked smug, his pupils blown wide. “Good.” 

Daniel pressed his forehead to Armand’s shoulder as he caught his breath, letting the other vampire trace his fingers up and down his back with an unhurried, featherlight touch. 

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut tight, something settling in his gut as one alleviated fear left room for another. “Fuck. If I didn’t have this thing in my chest, I’d probably be dead, huh?” He tilted to look up at Armand. “Like, not right away, but in that slow, starved till you’re screaming sort of torturous death way.” 

Armand didn’t miss a beat, his fingertips never breaking their pattern. “Nonsense. I would have killed you first.” 

“You sort of already did, boss.” 

Armand looked down at him, that cute exasperation back on his face. “Again.” 

Daniel tucked his face back against Armand’s shoulder. A strange sadness permeated him at that confession, one that had nothing to do with the thought of dying. “D’you think you’d have waited a hundred years and tried again? Bound to go better the second time, right?” He laughed, but it was hollow. And now he felt guilty for finding it amusing when Louis had cried to Lestat about walking into the fire and leaving the Frenchman to make a new companion. 

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and clung a little tighter. 

But Armand gripped his hair gently and pulled until Daniel looked up at him. Daniel was surprised to see a quizzical expression on the other vampire’s face, but his words sounded entirely honest. “No, Daniel. I would have followed you into the fire. I would have walked in holding your hand.” 

He let out an undignified noise, wiping the tears that filled his eyes. “Fuck, Armand. You can’t say something sweet like that when I’m trying to be all pathetic.” 

Armand smirked. “Don’t worry, beloved. You still look perfectly pathetic to me.” 

“You’re a dick, you know that, right?” 

Armand beamed, his arms encircling Daniel just a little tighter. “Yes.” 

Daniel rested there, wrapped snug against his lover’s chest, feeling safe for the first time in days. 

It only took a day for Fareed to get everything set up with the home health company, and then Daniel’s apartment was back to looking like his worst nightmare. He hadn’t expected all his anger to come rushing back when he saw the floor flooded with boxes of supplies. He hadn’t expected the gut punch he felt at realizing that this was now his life all over again. 

Forever. 

He hadn’t missed it. He hadn’t missed having to walk around with a needle in his chest all week. He hadn’t missed the monotony of having to set up his infusions on a schedule. He really hadn’t missed all the fucking rules that came along with it—for one’s safety of course. 

Daniel could understand that when he was human, at least, but he hadn’t expected it now. The second the words “sterile technique” left Fareed’s mouth, Daniel’s fangs descended without any conscious thought and he’d excused himself to take a quick run through Central Park—not really his best idea when his blood volume was already low, but it was still better than killing their only doctor friend. He drained some asshole, stole his sunglasses, and brought them home for Armand, who was graciously making small talk with the good doctor, who had, graciously, not simply left. 

“We just don’t know exactly what the risk factors are for you,” Fareed explained. “This is the first time we’re using human medical practices on an immortal. Following sterile protocol for port access and, at minimum, aseptic technique during your infusions, seems like a precaution we can’t afford not to take.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel said, sounding petulant even to his own ears. “I get it, doc.” Daniel understood. He knew that they couldn’t really say what would happen if Daniel didn’t practice proper line care. The central line was a human intervention in an immortal body; it seemed unlikely they’d ever be able to replace it if he got an infection. 

He heard Armand huff from the corner, undoubtedly vexed with Daniel’s seeming lack of care about the situation. But Daniel wasn’t being casual about it. It was just that, if he was totally honest, the thought of anything going wrong scared the shit out of him. There was the infection risk, sure, but there was also the matter of wear and tear. He wasn’t sure what frequent blood infusions would do to the suddenly-fragile-seeming plastic in his chest. Hopefully since his own body wasn’t in a constant state of slow decay anymore, it wouldn’t attack the material, and maybe they’d get away with not ever worrying about that. 

But still, ports generally did have an upper limit for their lifespan. Every time it was accessed, a needle pierced the silicone, which allowed for the medications to flow through the device. If Daniel remembered correctly, it was generally advised to change the port out after 2,000 sticks. That would still last them 40 years if nothing went wrong, and maybe longer in reality, but not knowing the answer, not even knowing if there was a way to resolve any issues that did come up, filled Daniel with a cold, anxious dread, and his heart beat out of rhythm. 

What if they did need to replace the line? Would they be able to thread a new one in with a guidewire? Could you even thread something into a dead vein? Would the incision stay open long enough to try? 

He couldn’t think of that now, not when he didn’t know what the outcome would be. Not when he knew that if anything happened to him, he’d have to call in a favor from one or two or five other vampires to keep Armand from throwing himself into the fire. 

For now, he would try not to worry. He would try not to let it bother him that Fareed’s best guess at the consequences of ignoring his advice was an infection they wouldn’t know how to treat, a situation where, “I don’t want to be in a position where I have to encourage you to feed mortals antibiotics and then drain them.” Daniel would try, he really would, but it did grind his gears that the doctor was putting a random human’s life above Daniel’s (and therefore, Armand’s). Daniel would do just about anything to keep himself alive for both their sakes—short of agreeing not to write another book. It wasn’t his fault that he needed human blood, and it wouldn’t be his fault if the only way he could get antibiotics was through the blood he was planning to drink anyway. 

Real Rashid would’ve understood. 

But for now, Daniel huffed and sighed dramatically and acquiesced to Fareed’s requests for him to take things seriously and be safe, in the interest of not needing to harm mortals in this specific way to fulfill his own biological imperative. And in the interest of not, ya know, dying. 

The doctor informed them that the blood—sterile, medical grade, from a real hospital and not Armand’s sketchy sources—would arrive the next day. 

Daniel’s own remaining blood felt like it was simmering with the unfairness of it all. All he wanted to do was fuck his boyfriend about it, but his jaunt through Central Park had taken a lot out of him, a lot more than he’d realized, and the spots in his vision must have given him a dazed look because Armand knew right away. So instead of wrapping themselves around each other in bed, they curled up on the couch to watch movies for the rest of the night. Armand even graciously allowed Daniel to pick every third movie, and only made him watch Blade Runner twice. 

But Daniel could barely concentrate. His face itched, his sharp fingernails picked at the edge of his thumb, and he couldn’t seem to get rid of the nervous energy that kept him shifting position every five minutes. His shirt felt too tight and his hair hurt somehow and he just wanted to peel himself out of his own skin and take a bath until the poison seeped out. If this was how Armand felt every time he got overstimulated, then Daniel thought he deserved an award for not killing the whole fucking planet by now. 

Armand quietly took his hand, eyes still trained on the TV, and stroked it soothingly. He pressed a kiss to the back of Daniel’s hand before holding it against his chest, where Daniel could feel the steady pulse of Armand’s heartbeat. 

“It’s all right, beloved,” his monster said. “I’m here.” 

Daniel took a deep breath, feeling like he could finally breathe again. He watched Armand as Armand watched the movie, and something in Daniel settled at the simple reassurance; at Armand’s presence, and that promise that he wasn’t alone. Armand… His boyfriend. His lover. His gremlin, good nurse, goldmine of a companion that he’d been lucky enough to get to keep. 

Armand must have felt the weight of Daniel’s gaze, or perhaps the love down their bond, and glanced over at Daniel. He blushed and mumbled that Daniel should be watching the movie, but he laced their fingers together and held his hand a little tighter. 

Another deep breath, and this one came even easier. One day at a time. Maybe they’d find a new normal. Everything becomes normal eventually. 

He snuggled down into the couch, throwing his legs over Armand’s lap, and fell asleep holding his boyfriend’s hand. 

It wasn’t a completely smooth transition. Nothing ever is. 

Despite looking decades older than Armand, Daniel finally felt like a fledgling. His normal “fuck off” attitude escaped him in lieu of the very human embarrassment that came with appearing noticeably different, much more insecure about this than he was about his age. He didn’t like having a needle in his chest every day. He didn’t like that wearing what he wanted meant the other vamps might see it and immediately clock him as different. Weak. Vulnerable. 

The anxiety came back full force, too. Not being able to get the dressing that covered the needle wet, wondering if he was going to sweat so much that the adhesive might peel off and expose him to infection risk. Learning the hard way that dying didn’t relieve him of his allergies, apparently—bullshit, if you asked him—so it still took him twice as long as anyone else to access his port. He couldn’t simply swipe it with chlorhexidine and call it a day; no, that would’ve been far too easy. That would’ve required the universe to stop fucking with him and throw him a bone. 

Instead, he had to go about this whole elaborate fucking process involving alcohol and betadine and more alcohol, and by the end of it the bathroom floor was littered with so much paper and plastic that he felt personally responsible for future generations having microplastics in their DNA. Being a vampire was already going against the laws of nature, but the amount of medical waste was truly on another level. At least bodies burned… Daniel was pretty sure he was condemning his great grandchildren to a world without rainforests, but what was the alternative, really? 

There wasn’t one, as Armand had taken to reminding him often. If Daniel didn’t know it was impossible for Armand to be reading his thoughts, he’d have wondered if he still was. Armand always seemed to know when Daniel was spiraling or questioning whether or not his existence was a net positive for the world. Not that he was going to hurt himself, really; he didn’t survive nearly seventy years and Parkinson’s just to finally get a second (albeit, slightly used) lease on life and throw it away. 

It made for mixed feelings. Daniel was genuinely happy to have some number of endless nights in front of him and be sharing that with the love of his life. He was grateful that his knees no longer hurt and his hands didn’t shake and he got to spend however long he wanted touching Armand and watching that face he made when he finally let go. When he relinquished responsibility and control of the leash he held on the world for a little while. When he curled up in Daniel’s arms all sated and fucked out and pressed a kiss to his sweat-sheen chest and just was. 

Daniel was grateful and happy and lucky. And, on some level, he was glad that little bit of plastic and metal in his chest had given him the chance to have such things. 

But there was grief too. 

For the human who was sick. For the vampire he would never get to be. For whoever he was trapped in the middle, taking it day by day. 

Seventy years on this planet had taught Daniel that most emotions are temporary, most upsets ebb and flow. He would never be a “normal” vampire, and that was that. And that had to be okay. He looked forward to the day when he wouldn’t care so much that he was dead and somehow still disabled. That day had to come eventually. 

He did have an awfully hard time with the mess, though. 

Every week, the supplies arrived in three or four boxes, and every week, they made his space just a little more disorganized. Daniel wasn’t a clean freak by any means, but it was unbelievable, the amount of space that supplies took up. The mess seemed to grow exponentially as the endless cardboard boxes stacked in his hallway, and he knew that if he just put things away, organized them, he would feel better. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. There was something too defeating about the idea of sorting through the inventory, handling everything inside the boxes and acknowledging in some backwards konmari method that none of it brought him joy and he had to keep it all anyway. 

One night, he just needed some time alone. 

He begged off, telling Armand he wanted to hunt alone that night, and Armand hadn’t argued. But instead of chasing criminals around New York, Daniel found himself making his way to the Central Park Zoo. Not to eat the animals, of course; he had no qualms about killing people for dinner. He had just always loved the zoo. It was one of the only places he had good memories of bringing his daughters, somewhere between stints in rehab and lying to his wives about being clean, when he could still remember things clearly, he had memories of his girls smiling and laughing in sheer joy at seeing all the creatures. 

It was well past closing now, so Daniel snuck inside and made his way to the endangered species section. He’d always had a particular fondness for the red pandas, and crouched down on the ground to watch them sleep in their enclosure. He stared at the animals in their cages for quite a while, wondering if he was really any different from them—all kept in captivity to prevent their own extinction, requiring a very specific habitat to stay alive. One wrong move and they’re gone forever. 

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, just watching these beings that had fought like hell to still exist, who someone else had deemed worthy enough to protect, and wondered how many other species out there never got the chance to be saved. How many succumbed to the environment and predators and the changing landscape of the world and simply…ceased to be? 

When he walked back into the apartment later that night, something felt different immediately. It took him a second, and then he gasped, the air punching out of his chest in a whoosh. 

The boxes that had littered the floor for weeks, that he had refused to deal with, were gone, and a faint radio sound played from down the hall. 

Daniel toed off his shoes and stuck his hands in his leather jacket pockets—a protective gesture he’d never lost over the years. Slowly, he made his way further into their home, towards the dim light that emanated from the crack beneath the door of the spare bedroom. Daniel felt shaky, but he steeled himself, taking a deep breath, and turned the knob. 

A soft, sharp inhale; his violet eyes went wide. An ache formed somewhere deep inside his chest, and he swallowed at the enormity of it all. 

The room was filled with meticulously organized supplies, his supplies. Daniel couldn’t move or speak or even blink for fear that one move would open the floodgates and all his pent-up anxiety from the last few months would come rushing out and leave him in a puddle of tears on the floor. 

“Beloved,” Armand said, his own eyes going wide like he wasn’t sure what Daniel would think. “I’ve put everything away.” He started to flit around the room as he showed Daniel the things he’d done, iPad in hand. “I’ve organized the supplies in here, there are sensors set up to automatically keep track when you remove an item, and I ordered a specialized fridge to store your infusion blood. It has a bluetooth connection so we’ll always know if the temperature drops or there’s a power outage. I know you’ve felt guilty about taking blood from a real blood bank, I don’t have a solution to that yet, but I’ll talk to Fareed and maybe we can create a clean room in the farm and use blood from volunteers—” 

Daniel pulled Armand to him and kissed him, putting an end to the vampire’s ramblings at once. The older vampire melted under his touch, wrapping his arms around Daniel’s neck. Daniel never broke the kiss as he lifted Armand into his arms and carried him to their bed. 

It didn’t stop with the supplies; Armand was determined to make Daniel’s life easier in any way possible. Daniel suspected that at least fifty percent of that was Armand’s own neuroses and deeply held need to find control amongst the chaos, but it was still sweet nonetheless. He created a schedule for Daniel’s infusions, both hung on the fridge and connected to their phones through their shared calendar app; he color-coded the supply inventory and had taken over the weekly calls informing the company of what to send; and he had typed up a written list of steps both for accessing Daniel’s port and administering his medication. 

Daniel already knew how to do that last one, of course—it was muscle memory now—so the instructions were really for Armand’s benefit, but Daniel was quietly basking in the care and attention, so he didn’t say anything. He also never told Armand that he’d caught him practicing the steps in secret with some spare inventory. Armand had always been comforted by understanding how things worked, and Daniel saw no reason to interfere with that, even if he was doing all of his line care himself. 

Besides, there were days when just the thought of having to do all of the care for his port drained him body and soul, and the possibility of Armand helping out didn’t sound so bad. He knew he wasn’t subtle about his feelings either; on those bad days, he would look into Armand’s eyes and see his own sadness reflected back in the deep orange. 

The first time he gave Armand that look was about a month into the routine; the very next day, Armand’s iPad screentime was 50% less minecraft and 50% more instructional videos. Daniel’s dead heart warmed. 

It was a bit longer still before he finally let Armand access his port for the first time. 

Daniel sat on the bathroom counter and leaned his head against the wall. Armand had the sterile field draped on the other half of the counter, the sterile supplies laid out meticulously. He and Daniel both wore paper masks despite not being sure whether vampire breath even contained pathogens. Armand had insisted, since it was technically part of sterile protocol, and it wasn’t a hill Daniel felt like dying on. Besides, the mask let him hide some of his face, though the pit of shame still sat heavy in his belly. 

Armand, the sneaky motherfucker whom he loved very much, picked up on it anyway. 

“What is that look, Daniel?” he asked as he carefully swabbed the site with betadine. 

“You can’t even see most of my face right now.” 

Armand flicked his gaze to Daniel’s, immediately putting an end to whatever line of evasiveness his fledgling had been planning to pursue. God…look at him. Even with part of Armand’s face obscured by the mask, Daniel was still distracted by how beautiful he was—equally beautiful and terrifying, though Daniel never felt afraid. He made a conscious effort not to squirm; he always had gotten some wires crossed when it came to being equal parts intimidated and turned on by the angel of death. 

But Armand raised one eyebrow, and Daniel was brought back to the present. He exhaled so heavily it fogged his glasses. 

“This was just not exactly what I pictured, that’s all.” 

Armand ran another swab over the site, his focus back on his task, but Daniel knew he was listening. 

“When I pictured being a vampire, I mean. I wasn’t counting on all  this—” Daniel went to move his arm, always one to gesticulate when big emotions hit.  

“Stay still, please.” 

“Sorry.” 

He felt stupid, was what it was. He felt fragile and embarrassed and defective and old. 

“I don’t understand why you feel this way about yourself,” Armand said gently, though Daniel knew he hadn’t said anything out loud. But he didn’t have to; Armand still knew. 

“Look, it’s—it’s hard enough being an ancient-looking baby in this world. Don’t get me wrong, there’s something extremely hot about having my eternally young-looking boyfriend be old and powerful enough to scare the shit out of any other vampires we cross, but…” Daniel chewed his lip behind the mask, trying to find the words to explain. “It makes me feel weak, even if I’m not.” 

“You’re a very talented fledgling, beloved.” 

Daniel felt his face go hot. “I know,” he mumbled. “It’s not that. It’s like…imagine being in a zombie apocalypse and you’re diabetic. You’re fucked, right? Same thing.” 

Armand looked up at him, waiting for the antiseptic to dry, and Daniel could tell by the way his brows furrowed together that he had lost him. 

He tried again. “If the world suddenly blew up and you had to rough it with nothing but yourself and your own survival skills, a healthy human might have a shot. A vampire who only needs to drink blood probably has a pretty good shot. I…” He huffed a laugh, though there was nothing funny about it. “I don’t like feeling so reliant on something outside of my control. It’s fucking scary, okay?”  

Armand looked at the floor as he often did when he was processing information. He nodded, taking it in. “I see. Yes, that makes sense.” He looked back at Daniel. “But Daniel, we are not in a zombie apocalypse. We are in the bathroom, in New York, and the world is the same today as it was yesterday.” 

Daniel couldn’t help but smile behind the mask. “Is this what it feels like when I talk you off a ledge?” 

It happened from time to time, when Armand panicked or got overwhelmed or had a meltdown. Daniel would have to ground him, and part of that was getting Armand to recognize where and when they were, and to see that the world was not ending, in whatever version of world-endingness he was feeling that day. Daniel knew it was a cycle they’d probably deal with forever, but he never minded helping Armand feel safe. It was a fucking privilege to be someone he felt safe with. 

Armand’s eyes creased the way they did when he grinned. “Probably. But you have been correct so far. So perhaps you should trust your own advice.” 

Daniel leaned his head back against the mirror and thought about that for a minute, during which Armand had determined that the betadine was dry and moved on to the next step. 

“It feels different,” Daniel said quietly, “when I help you. Versus you doing this for me. I don’t know why.” 

“But I do not mind it, Daniel.” 

And the thing was, Daniel believed him. And the thing was, that wasn’t the problem. 

“I know, baby,” he sighed. “But I do. Sometimes.” 

Armand leaned in as he pierced the needle through Daniel’s skin. “Would you not do the same for me, were our positions reversed?” 

Daniel’s brows shot up. “No, of course I would.” 

“And would you do it simply out of obligation?” 

“No, I—” Daniel could see where this was going, but he said it anyway. Because it was important. “I’d want to help you. I like helping you.” 

Armand raised one brow without looking away from his work. “Do you believe I am incapable of the same acts of love?” 

Daniel felt the heat in his face ratchet up and he knew if he had more blood in him, he’d be a deep crimson by now. He mumbled his reply, feeling like he had his tail between his legs. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Mmm,” Armand hummed noncommittally as he worked. “And would you desire me any less because of it?” 

“No,” Daniel said petulantly, desperately wishing he could cross his arms over his chest to protect the fragile heart that beat there. “But that doesn’t exactly mean this is sexy either.” 

Armand did look up at that. He tilted his head. “I had not been viewing this part specifically in a sexual manner, but if you wanted me to dress up or—” 

“Babe, I cannot express how much I do not want that.” 

“Are you sure?” Armand blinked, his big orange bug eyes both far too innocent and also stupidly adorable. If he wasn’t careful, Daniel would actually get a boner just from how much he loved his boyfriend. 

“Yeah, I’m sure. There is absolutely no chance you can sexualize this in a good nurse way or something, and I wouldn’t want you to. But thanks for offering.” 

Armand just stared for a moment while he took this in too, and then blinked, nodding, more to himself than anything. “Okay.” He went back to finishing the last touches of the adhesive dressing, taping the edges so they wouldn’t pull up. And then he took his mask off, and Daniel saw that he was biting his lower lip like he was holding something back. 

“What?” he asked, amused. 

Armand met his gaze. “I want to compliment you but I do not want it to appear that I am sexualizing you in this moment, nor that I am being patronizing.” 

Daniel looked down. The dressing was done, the needle change complete. Armand was pulling off his sterile gloves and tossing the supplies in the trash. Daniel pulled his own mask down and smiled. 

“Looks like things are done, to me. Medical moment over. You can sexualize me all you want now.” 

Armand’s head snapped towards him, eyes wide. Excited. “Really?” It came out breathy in a way only an apex predator could sound; a lion waiting for permission to pounce. 

Daniel smirked. “Mhm.” 

And pounce he did. They came together so fiercely that their teeth clashed and they bit at each other’s lips. They didn’t disengage as they fumbled down the hallway towards the bedroom like two insatiable, immortal beings flooded with hormones. 

As Daniel’s back hit the bed and Armand crawled over him to cage him with his body, he had just enough wherewithal left to pull back and gasp, “Wait, what were you gonna say? Before?” 

Armand kissed along his jaw, down his neck, letting his kitten fangs scratch just enough for his tongue to lap at the shallow cut as it beaded with blood. He licked his way back up and brought his lips to Daniel’s ear. “I was going to say,” he whispered, in the most seductive voice Daniel had ever heard, “that no matter what, you are still my beautiful boy.” 

Daniel’s blood sang for him. “Fuck, come here.” And he pulled Armand’s mouth back to his own. 

“Mine,” Armand said against his lips. 

Daniel nodded fiercely, kissing his love. “Yours.” 

The next evening, Daniel awoke alone. It wasn’t that uncommon; Armand often slept less and arose before Daniel’s newfound fledgling body had had enough rest. But something was different… Daniel could feel a pool of anxiety collecting in his stomach, some thread within him feeling strung taut. 

He pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt and made his way down the hall. 

When he reached the living room, he stopped in his tracks. There was Armand, kneeling on the floor, hunched over with an ungodly number of printed papers around him. 

“Uh, babe?” Daniel said carefully. 

Armand didn’t look up from his place on the floor, colored highlighters littering the space next to him, his laptop cast to one side but open to a page about autonomic dysfunction. “In humans, it seems there are certain bodies of research for the treatment of dysfunction in the autonomic nervous system, which—I checked with Fareed—is what we could classify your specific subtype of hypovolemia under since it does seem to be caused by nerve damage from your autoimmune disease, and—” 

“Whoa, hey, slow down.” 

Armand looked up, blinking in confusion. “Yes?” 

“What are you doing?”  

Armand looked around at the forest’s worth of research he’d printed out and then back at Daniel, gesturing slowly to the papers with one hand.  

Daniel pinched the bridge of his nose, his other arm locked across his chest. “Yeah, no, I see the papers.” 

“Then—” 

“I meant like, why?” 

Armand was silent for a minute, his eyes boring into Daniel’s like he was looking for hidden meaning in the question. He shook his head. “I don’t understand. You are ill. There is research. I am trying to find the most likely place to start.” 

“To do…what, exactly?” 

Armand tilted his head to the side, looking at Daniel as if his fledgling were making no sense. “To cure you, beloved.” 

“Oh.” Okay, he should’ve seen that coming. “Armand…” 

“If your body can continue to dysfunction in a human way, it seems just as plausible that it can recover in a human way too.” 

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I…don’t think that’s how that works.” 

Armand’s nostrils flared, his irises becoming more vibrant. “You do not know how it works, Daniel! Not any more than I do! You are the first vampire to be dealing with this, so I would appreciate if you could leave your pessimism at least in the other room as I have work to do.” He turned back around, a little violently, uncapping a highlighter. It shook in his hand. 

Daniel closed his eyes and forced himself to count to ten before moving. He exhaled slowly, reminded himself that he loved Armand very much and that he was trying not to repeat the mistake he made in both of his marriages where he had been determined to win every fight. He slowly made his way to the floor to sit next to the other vampire. 

“Baby,” he said, but Armand didn’t take his eyes off the paper before him, highlighting something angrily. “Baby, can you look at me for a minute?” 

Armand pursed his lips, but otherwise gave no sign of having heard him. He highlighted another line. Daniel wouldn’t have been surprised if he was highlighting something random just to avoid looking at him, and had to bite back a small smile at that. He knew Armand was shaken. He was bent in half on the floor and looked like a rocket about to go off at any moment. 

Daniel slowly reached out one hand and placed it on his shoulder. He was relieved when Armand relaxed a bit under his touch. “Please?” 

Armand looked up, his expression softening. He capped the marker and sat up, facing Daniel with less annoyance. 

“Thank you.” Daniel slipped his hand into one of Armand’s, and the other vampire took it easily. “Listen, I love you. I love that you want to help me and that you did all this”—he gestured to the sea of papers—“because you love me. Because I know that’s what this is.” 

Armand waited a moment, then gave a small nod. 

Daniel did too. “But,” he said, and felt Armand tense, “I need you to ease up. Just a little.” 

Armand’s expression shattered. “But, but there are things we can do.” He grabbed the paper nearest them. “There are multiple studies that show a course of intravenous immunoglobulin therapy is an effective treatment for slowing and even reversing nerve damage.” 

“Armand.” 

“I don’t know exactly what it would do in you, if it can reverse the damage to a state before you were turned or if it will only prevent it from getting worse, I know we say that vampires don’t change but there is evidence that bestowing the Gift does have some healing properties, like your hand, your hand doesn’t shake anymore, right?” 

“Armand—” 

“I will dose as many humans as I have to and have you drink from them, Daniel. I will!” 

Daniel squeezed his hand. “Armand, listen.” 

And Daniel’s heart broke, just a little bit more, because Armand snapped his mouth shut, but his bottom lip still quivered, and he just looked so…frightened. Small. Smaller than Daniel could ever remember seeing him look before. His brave boyfriend who had a survival instinct as sharp as a knife and had endured for centuries, who had always had the means to give Daniel absolutely everything he wanted—even immortality in the end—and who was now seconds away from a complete meltdown because this was one thing he could not give him. This was the one thing he could not fix. 

“Please,” Armand said, begging. “Please let me help you.” 

“You do help me, baby. You’ve been helping me. You helped me just yesterday.” 

“But what about the zombie apocalypse, Daniel!” And he was so serious that Daniel couldn’t help but laugh, though Armand barely registered it. “I cannot help you if something goes wrong and I will not lose you again!” 

His eyes were vibrating and he was breathing too fast, and Daniel sobered at once. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay. Come here, come here.” He pulled Armand into his lap and the other vampire went willingly, clutching to him like he could weld their chests together through sheer force of will and give Daniel his own blood in this way too. Hell, it was Armand. Maybe he could. 

“I’m okay,” Daniel said, rubbing Armand’s back, slow and methodical. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” 

He felt the tears hit his neck. “You don’t want me to help you.” 

“I didn’t say that. Just maybe pull back a little.” 

Armand’s voice got softer, but his nails pressed desperate crescents into Daniel’s skin. “Was the organization too much?” 

“No, that was really sweet actually.” He sighed, still stroking Armand’s back. “And I did like having you access my port for me. It was nice not having to do it myself, and you’re the only other person I’d ever trust. It’s just the research, babe.” 

Armand sniffed, burying his face into the crook of Daniel’s neck. “I’ve overwhelmed you. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do. And like, obviously I am also afraid of things getting worse or something going wrong. If I had the choice, it’s not like I’d pick being sick forever. But…at least for now—maybe forever, I don’t know—but at least for now, I just need you to press pause on looking for more treatments and cures and all of that and just be here with me. Okay? We haven’t even been doing this plan for that long, and I can’t live in the what if. Does that make sense?” 

Armand was silent for a long moment and then shook his head. But immediately after, sat up and looked at Daniel, and nodded miserably. “Yes. I suppose. You don’t want to get your hopes up.” 

“I don’t want you to get your hopes up,” he clarified. 

Armand’s brows drew together. “Mine? Why?” 

“Because we don’t know if there is a way to fix this for good. We don’t know much at all, seeing as I’m patient zero here. But Fareed thinks the damage is done, and I think he’s probably right. Even if you’re right that some damage can be repaired with the Gift, I already am a vampire, so I don’t think there’s going to be some miraculous cure. And I can’t hang everything on a maybe.” 

“And you don’t want me to try,” Armand said, no malice in his voice. Just resigned. 

“No, I don’t.” He said it not unkindly, but with finality. “I can’t make this better any more than you can cut your hair. It’s just something we manage, right? You can’t make it go away any more than you can suddenly decide we don’t need to eat. It’s part of how my body is.” 

Armand continued to look at him, but didn’t say anything. 

Daniel took a deep breath and said the hardest part. “And if you’re not cool with that being true indefinitely, then that’s something I’d wanna know now. I don’t want to sit around wondering if you’re only sticking around as long as you think there’s a way out of this mess.” 

“Beloved,” he choked. Armand swallowed, brushing his hands down Daniel’s face with something like reverence. “I am not staying out of obligation or wishful thinking or for a maybe. I want to be here, with you.” 

Daniel’s heart beat faster. He knew that, deep down, but he had no idea how badly he’d needed to hear him say it. “Then can we agree no more cure-alls for a while?” 

Armand rested his hands behind Daniel’s neck. “You want me to accept things as they are.” 

“I need you to. That’s the only way I’m ever gonna trust this. I just need to know that if things never get better, if this is as good as it gets with me, that it’s still enough for you.” 

“Daniel,” Armand began, tracing his thumb along Daniel’s cheek bone. He looked at him with such love that Daniel knew he’d never doubt it again. “You have always been enough for me. Mortal or vampire, healthy or ill. My feelings have never wavered once.”

He sucked his cheeks in, seemingly at war with the words he was trying to hold back before deciding he couldn’t.

“But for the record, I do not entirely agree that if things were reversed, you would not be just as stubborn about wanting to ‘fix’ things for me.” He did very adorable air quotes and Daniel laughed at how cute he looked when he was even the slightest bit vexed with perceived hypocrisy. Armand grinned, twining his arms behind Daniel’s neck. “But I understand what you are saying and your wishes are important to me, so we will leave it be. I am here, beloved, and I want to stay here. No matter what.” 

Daniel’s lip trembled and he cupped Armand’s cheek with his hand. “Yeah?” 

Armand tilted his face into Daniel’s palm, and smiled. “Yeah.” 

Daniel kissed him, not paying attention to his own tears that fell in relief. He barely noticed them in fact, as Armand’s legs wrapped around his waist. They didn’t even make it to the bedroom this time as Daniel laid Armand down on top of the endless papers and took him apart with his fingers and tongue before sliding inside of him. 

Armand, to his immense credit, did not say anything about them getting the research dirty. Daniel loved him even more for it. 

It didn’t get perfect, but it did get better. 

Daniel realized just how much, one day, while he and Armand were spending a night in. It was early evening and Armand’s eyes were glued to the TV screen as he watched Blade Runner for the millionth time. Daniel was lying on the couch with his feet tucked under Armand’s thigh, a notebook in his lap while he planned his next book. 

Of course, he couldn’t help but stare at his love from time to time and get lost in his thoughts. He had the freedom to do that now, because the world hadn’t ended when Daniel Molloy had gotten on a plane at 69 with Parkinson’s and a death wish. In fact, the world had opened back up to him, and he wanted to spend every day of his undeath with the vampire sitting beside him. 

And now, with a little help from modern medical interventions, it seemed like he could. Things weren’t perfect, no, but he was a far cry from the guy who had been despondent on the floor not all that long ago, and fuck, he had forgotten how good hope tasted. 

See, each infusion made Daniel feel better in the short term, but it wasn’t until about six months in that he noticed he felt better overall. Things seemed to level out and there was more carry over between infusions. So long as he stuck pretty closely to the schedule Armand had made for him, he felt, on average, pretty normal. Or at least whatever normal felt like now. Everything becomes normal eventually, so sometimes it’s hard to remember what came before it, but he knew that no matter what the actual quantifiable statistics of his condition were, he felt…happier. 

He was most excited to have more of his energy back. Especially for a fledgling who had proved so strong in other ways, losing that had been a huge blow to his morale. These days, he could keep up with Armand on their hunts, joyful in the simple pleasure of the chase with his maker. 

Maybe Armand was slowing down for him; he might not even be aware of it if he was. That was just sort of how things had shaken out between them. Daniel had never been in a relationship before where both people were orbiting around each other so naturally that they just organically accommodated for the other without even noticing. It was nice. 

Daniel might not have learned a lot from his marriages, but he’d clearly learned something: sometimes, it’s okay to just accept the good things as they are without having to unravel the thread to see if the root of it will hold. Sometimes the root is just love, and you gotta trust that the rest is solid. 

He was glad Armand couldn’t read his mind when he was feeling like this. But he must have felt the affection down their bond, because he glanced over at Daniel and his face broke into the most beautiful smile. He turned his attention back to the TV, this ancient, powerful vampire looking bashful, but his hand settled on Daniel’s shin as it so often did. And they both sat there, together, separately, connected and safe. 

That was nice too. 

Fareed hadn’t been able to predict how Daniel’s symptoms would go; he could only really say there would always be a little bit less blood running through his system than he needed, and it seemed like he was right. Daniel could feel it, the slight deficit, the tiny twinge of being just shy of delightfully unaware of your body. But it was nothing compared to fainting in the foyer, so honestly, Daniel was still pretty happy. 

And on the rare days where none of it really added up to making Daniel feel back to normal, where his fatigue caught up with him and his body couldn’t seem to agree that he’d done enough, Armand stayed with him in their bed and followed his lead. He would bring the iPad in for them to watch whatever show they were binging, or he would read out loud to Daniel (something that made Daniel swoon with affection, more than he ever cared to admit), or on the really bad days, he would lie next to Daniel and gently trace his fingers up and down Daniel’s arm to soothe him until he fell asleep. 

And then things would get better—not perfect, and they didn’t really need them to be, but better. They would go about their lives in this new normal once again. Daniel would run his infusions and Armand would order the supplies and they’d take turns doing the accessing because Daniel kind of liked how it was a bonding experience built into their week, and most of the time, all of the medical minutia was just a part of their day, and that was all it was. It wasn’t everything. There was so much more to their everything. 

There were whispered vows and stolen glances and messy kisses and pride and lust and gluttony and they wouldn’t apologize for any of it. There was laughter, so much laughter, and Daniel would spend every day of the rest of his life wanting to hear that beautiful, free sound fall from Armand’s lips. And Armand would smile at him and Daniel would wrap his legs around his waist and they’d fall into each other once again. They’d chase prey through Central Park and visit the red pandas and talk about taking a vacation to Florida because there was an island there that Armand thought Daniel ought to see again. 

And they’d take things as they came. 

To Daniel’s surprise, dying hadn’t meant he didn’t have a lot left to learn, and he was learning it day by day, every time that he trusted things to be all right. Every time that he trusted Armand would still be there when he woke up, and he was. Every time that he trusted love. It was surprising, until it wasn’t. And then it was safe, and sure, and theirs. He was happy. They were happy. 

And it was more than enough.