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Daniel Molloy did not intend to drop by Louis de Pointe du Lac’s house unannounced—
Actually, that was a lie. He absolutely intended it, but he liked to pretend he didn’t.
It made him feel mysterious.
“Come on,” he told Armand, waving him toward the car like a man corralling a golden retriever that might bite. “We’re just stopping in. Say hello. No big deal.”
Armand stood beside him, arms folded, expression schooled into an emotion he probably practiced in the mirror. “You said this would be a professional visit.”
“It is,” Daniel said. “Professional-ish.”
By the time they reached Louis’s house in New Orleans, Daniel was already rehearsing a few casual greetings, things like ‘Hey man, long time no see’ or ‘Please tell me Lestat isn’t home,’ but all of that dissolved the second the front door opened.
Because the noise hit them first.
A screech. A giggle. Something that sounded suspiciously like a small body tackling another small body. A cry of, “Daddy! Daddy he stole my crayon!”
And then Louis—glowing, radiant, actual sunshine incarnate—appeared in the doorway.
“Daniel!” Louis said, smile wide. “Armand! You’re just in time.”
“In time for what?” Daniel asked, stepping inside.
He stopped.
Stared.
Turned slowly, very slowly, back to Louis.
“So… did you open a daycare?” Daniel asked, voice deadpan. “Is this a side hustle? Is this tax-deductible?”
Because there were children. Everywhere.
Victor sitting on the floor building something that looked like a tiny Eiffel Tower out of blocks.
Another kid toddling past with a stuffed bat in her hand.
Two kids wrestling on the couch.
A toddler chewing on a program from Lestat’s last concert.
And—oh god—were there twins in matching outfits?
Lestat, of course, looked thrilled with himself. He swept dramatically into the room, baby Rose on his hip like the world’s most chaotic accessory.
“Ah! Visitors!” he announced. “Welcome to our humble château of joy.”
“She spit up on you,” Victor pointed out helpfully.
“She shows her affection as she sees fit,” Lestat said, chin lifting proudly.
Louis reached over and wiped Rose’s chin, affection softening every line of his face. “We always talked about a big family,” he said, tone warm enough to melt glass. “I just didn’t expect…” He gestured vaguely at the swarm of children that definitely exceeded the building code’s maximum occupancy for vampires.
“Yeah,” Daniel said. “I don’t think anyone expected… this.”
Armand, meanwhile, was watching the children with the same expression he wore when inspecting a rare manuscript. Curious. Mildly suspicious. Deeply fascinated.
One of the twins walked up to him and handed him a crayon.
“You may draw,” the child declared.
Armand looked down at the crayon like it might be a holy relic. “I… may draw,” he echoed, uncertain.
Daniel slapped a hand over his mouth to hide a laugh. “Oh my god. They imprinted on him.”
Louis beamed. “They like calm people.”
Armand, who was arguably the least calm being on earth, nodded solemnly.
A toddler wearing a tiny velvet cape (Lestat’s influence, clearly) toddled over and clung to Lestat’s leg. “Papa, he took my bat!”
“I did not take your bat,” one of the couch wrestlers yelled.
“You did!” the caped toddler shrieked.
Lestat crouched, adjusting Rose to his other arm with practiced ease. “My little love, if he took your bat, I shall retrieve it and punish him severely.”
“No punishing,” Louis called. “Gentle parenting, Lestat.”
“I am being gentle,” Lestat protested.
“You threatened punishment.”
“It was metaphorical!”
Louis gave him a flat stare. “Lestat.”
Lestat sighed dramatically and kissed Rose’s cheek. “Fine. I shall negotiate peace.”
“You’re doing great,” Daniel muttered, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed.
“Thank you, Daniel,” Lestat said, preening like he’d just won an award for Dad of the Year.
Armand finally knelt in front of the child who’d given him the crayon. “What shall I draw?” he asked.
“Bat,” the child said simply.
Armand nodded as though receiving sacred instruction. “A bat. Yes.”
Daniel stared at this. “Okay,” he said. “I’m officially scared.”
Louis laughed softly. “It’s a lot. I know. But…” His eyes drifted over the mayhem—Lestat negotiating toddler treaties, children shrieking, crayons everywhere—and he looked peaceful. “It’s good. It’s really good.”
Daniel softened. “Yeah. It is.”
A second later, a child launched a stuffed bat directly at his head.
“Okay, less good,” Daniel corrected.
Louis laughed harder.
Armand held up his finished drawing: an astonishingly detailed, Renaissance-level sketch of a bat with dramatic shading.
The toddler blinked at it.
Then said, “Can you draw a truck?”
Armand stared at the child, absolutely stricken.
Lestat burst out laughing.
Louis covered his face.
Daniel took a picture.
Later, Louis scooped up one of the wrestling couch-goblins—Julien? Jules? Julius? Daniel couldn’t remember, there were too many J-names, and settled the kid easily on his hip. The child immediately melted against him, tiny hands gripping Louis’s shirt.
And Louis?
Louis looked like this was the best moment of his entire immortal life.
Lestat drifted behind him, watching Louis with the soft, gooey expression of a man who would bulldoze a city for him. He leaned over Louis’s shoulder, kissing the top of his head like it was instinct.
“You’re glowing,” Lestat murmured. “Mon dieu, look at you.”
Louis gave him a warning glance, though he was clearly pleased if the smile on his face was anything to go by. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” Lestat said. “I’ve already been in the middle of it for decades.”
Daniel made a gagging noise behind them. “God, it’s like watching a Hallmark movie.”
Louis ignored him and kissed the child’s temple. “You okay now, sweetheart?”
The kid nodded, then pointed at the other couch wrestler. “He breathed near me.”
“That’s… not a crime,” Daniel muttered.
“In this house?” Louis said, adjusting his hip. “You’d be surprised.”
Lestat swooped dramatically across the room to deal with the breather-in-question, handing Rose to Louis as he passed. Rose immediately grabbed Louis’s ear and started contently gnawing on it.
“Teething,” Louis explained to Armand like this was normal.
Armand nodded solemnly—as though absorbing ancient wisdom. “Fascinating.”
The crayon child tugged Armand’s sleeve again. “Draw the truck now.”
Armand looked rattled. “I do not know the anatomy of a truck.”
Daniel leaned against the wall, thoroughly enjoying this. “You’re immortal. Figure it out.”
Another child barreled into Lestat’s leg at full speed. “Papa! Papa! Papa!”
“Yes, love?” Lestat said, crouching down as Rose reached for him from Louis’s arms like a grabby little starfish.
“There’s a monster under my bed!”
Lestat gasped dramatically. “A monster? In this house? Impossible. They would have to go through me first.”
Louis gave him a look. “You check under the beds, Lestat, you know that’s your job.”
“I vigorously check under the beds,” Lestat corrected, placing a hand over his heart. “No monster will ever touch a hair on my children’s heads.”
“Except the ones they bring home,” Daniel muttered.
Louis shot him a warning look.
“We only brought home one monster,” Louis said. “And I married him.”
Lestat’s jaw dropped in delighted offense. “Louis!”
Louis smiled, leaning into him. “You know I love you.”
A chorus of “Ewwwwww!” erupted from at least four children.
“You see what you’ve done?” Lestat whispered, slipping his arm around Louis’s waist.
Louis handed him Rose. “Here, hold your daughter.”
“She is always my daughter,” Lestat said, taking her back with exaggerated care. “But I accept the offering.”
Then he leaned over and kissed Louis—gently at first, then a little less gently—until Rose smacked Lestat’s face with her stuffed bat.
“Boundaries,” Louis said lightly.
“Right,” Lestat said, sighing. “Our daughter demands respect.”
Across the room, one of the twins tugged on Armand’s pants leg. “Can you draw a spaceship too?”
“I have not yet completed the truck—”
“Spaceship!” the kid insisted with the fervor of someone who had never been denied anything in their undead life.
Armand looked helplessly at Daniel.
“Don’t look at me,” Daniel said. “I’m not the parent here.”
“You’re not the parent,” Louis corrected. “But you can sit on the floor and help them color.”
Daniel blinked. “I’m a Pulitzer-winning journalist.”
“And today,” Louis said, smiling, “you can be a tree in their crayon kingdom.”
Daniel sighed deeply—dramatically—then sat down on the floor as one child climbed into his lap and another used his shoe as a ramp for a toy car.
Louis looked delighted. “See? They love you.”
“They fear nothing,” Daniel corrected.
Lestat, bouncing Rose, drifted behind Louis. Louis smiled at him and wrapped his arm around Lestat’s waist.
“You know,” Lestat murmured in Louis’s ear, “you were always meant for this.”
Louis’s eyes softened.
“Meant for what?” he whispered.
Lestat pressed his forehead to his. “A home full of life. A family. A place where you smile like this.”
Louis leaned into him, letting the warmth of the moment settle between them. “I do like the chaos,” he admitted. “Sometimes.”
“Always,” Lestat said confidently.
Louis smiled. “Maybe always.”
Armand watched them with the expression of a man witnessing a species mating ritual he never knew existed. The crayon children continued tugging at him. A toy fire truck bounced off Daniel’s sleeve. Someone yelled that their sibling was “stealing my vampire cape.”
And in the middle of it all, Louis kissed Lestat again—soft, unhurried, full of a peace he hadn’t touched in decades.
Lestat glowed as if someone lit him from inside.
And Daniel, from the floor, surrounded by crayons and toddlers, muttered,
“Yeah. Okay. This is actually… kind of cute. Disgusting. But cute.”