Chapter Text
1980
New York City
1:38 am
“Daniel, what is this?” Armand asked.
Daniel closed the magazine he’d been looking at and put it back on the rack. He crossed the store in search of Armand.
It was hot out, one of those sticky nights when lying on the bed with the windows open just wouldn’t do. Going to the convenience store had been his idea, though Daniel didn’t really need anything. It was just an excuse to stand in the air conditioner while Armand explored. Something rattled in the vents. Air blew down fast enough to stop the bead of sweat on the back of Daniel’s neck in its tracks.
He found Armand in front of the slushie machines, hands in his pockets as he stared at the brightly colored liquid sloshing around. Armand tilted his head. A drop of cherry syrup dripped off the nozzle of one of the dispensers and fell to the tray below.
“It’s a slushie. It’s a drink, kind of,” Daniel said. “All it is is crushed ice mixed with flavor syrup. It’ll stain the shit out of your clothes if you spill it though, my mom used to get after me for that all the time when I was a kid.”
Armand cocked his head. “And what flavor is ‘blue raspberry’? Raspberries aren’t blue.”
Daniel huffed out a laugh. Armand could be so literal sometimes.
“I don’t know, something some executive made up to sell blue syrup. It tastes like blue cotton candy,” Daniel said with a shrug.
Armand furrowed his brow as he looked at him. Right. He probably had never had cotton candy either, being five hundred years old and all. He had no frame of reference for any of this stuff.
Sometimes he acted so normal Daniel forgot exactly what he was. When he was full of blood he was as ruddy cheeked as any young man, even under the harsh lights of the convenience store. It wasn’t until he opened his mouth that Daniel was reminded that he was standing at a slushie machine with a dead and unnatural thing.
He grabbed a styrofoam cup from the counter and handed it to Armand. “Here, get one and I’ll drink it. You can spy on the flavor through my brain or whatever vulcan mind meld shit it is that you do.”
Armand wrapped his fingers around the lever on the machine so carefully. He looked so intense. Like pouring a slushie was a delicate operation. Sometimes he handled things with such care, but then others-
Daniel’s hand went to the hickie low on his neck, barely hidden by the collar of his shirt. The bruise was terrible. The edges of it were almost the same blue as the ice coming out of the machine. If he pressed down on it he could still feel the ache, the searing pain of Armand’s fangs buried in his skin. He shuddered at the memory.
“Are you cold now, Daniel? You’re shivering,” Armand said as he plucked a lid from the stack beside the machine.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Don’t play dumb.”
Armand grinned at him and stabbed a straw into the drink. Daniel couldn’t help but grin back.
At the register he let Armand request a pack of cigarettes for him and then handed him his own wallet to let him pay like a little kid. On their way out the door Armand took his hand.
They walked the two blocks back to their building like that; hands clasped, Armand’s rings pressing into the space between his fingers. When they sat down on the front steps of their building Daniel held their hands up. Turned them from side to side and watched Armand’s rings glitter under the hazy glow of the light from the windows around them. His fingers were so pale. His palm was so dry, a sharp contrast to Daniel’s which had begun to sweat in the humidity.
“In my time we had a drink, brought over from the Middle East and called sharbat,” Armand said suddenly. “It was made from fruit syrups. Cherry and pomegranate and lemon. I was told that in some places it was consumed frozen but I never experienced it myself. In Venice there’s no way to build the cellars required to store ice.”
Daniel brushed his thumb back and forth over the back of Armand’s hand. Sipped at his slushie and tried to digest the information he’d just been given.
It was so rare that Armand talked about his youth. It always came in fits and starts, at the most unexpected times. Daniel could press him for hours on what it was like to live in renaissance Venice and get no answer, and then he’d put on a certain shirt or they’d see a particular film and off Armand would go with some fact that made his head spin.
“Do you miss being able to eat and drink things?” Daniel asked.
Armand blinked at him slowly. Like he had to process the question just as Daniel had to process his sudden story. He remained quiet.
A car rattled down the street. Somewhere above them someone cracked a window and the sounds of the program they were watching on tv filtered out. Daniel shifted on the steps and felt the concrete dig into the bare skin at the back of his thigh.
“In a way. I don’t miss the necessity of it,” Armand finally said. “I only regret that there’s such a variety of food and drink available now and I can’t experience any of it firsthand.”
“And tasting it through my mind isn’t exactly the same, I’d imagine.”
Armand nodded. “Yes. A pale reflection of the thing you’re experiencing, that’s all that it is.”
Daniel took another drink of the slushie. Let the syrup linger in his mouth before he swallowed and wondered if he ate more slowly if Armand would experience it more clearly. More intensely. The idea of never being able to taste anything but blood, ever again- it was hard to imagine. Armand preached the drawbacks of immortality to him every time he pleaded for it, but this was the first time any of it had ever sunk in.
He thought about his morning coffee. Popcorn at the movies. A bar of chocolate. All things Armand had never really tasted. Never really would.
Daniel licked his lips and sloshed the drink around its cup. Suddenly Armand reached out and grabbed him by the jaw. Pressed his fingers into his cheeks and made him open his mouth.
“Your mouth is blue,” Armand said.
His face was so serious. Daniel laughed when he let go.
“I told you, this shit stains everything,” he said. “Do you think it would stain your skin too? Nothing ever seems to stick to you for long.”
Armand pursed his lips as he considered the question. “I don’t know.”
Well. Only one way to find out.
Daniel took a long drink and set the cup down on the steps. He turned to Armand.
His auburn hair didn’t seem to be affected by the humidity at all. Not like Daniel’s, which was damp with sweat and clinging to the back of his neck. He reached over and tucked a curl behind Armand’s ear. Brushed his fingers over his temple and watched his lashes, so full and dark, flutter against his cheek when he closed his eyes. For a moment Daniel could only sit there, palm on Armand’s face as he glanced between the pink flush of his skin and the soft shape of his mouth.
Daniel brushed the tip of his nose against Armand’s. Rubbed it back and forth, just sharing breathing space with him. He smiled to himself when Armand tipped his chin up in silent demand. Waited a second until he made a huffy sound and then closed the distance between their lips.
Warm. That was all Daniel could think about when Armand parted his lips and let him lick into his mouth. He was so warm tonight, so alive.
He felt the weight of Armand’s hand on his chest. It was warm too, even through his t-shirt, resting on his sternum right above his racing heart. When he grabbed Armand by the knees and dragged his legs across his lap he felt his fingers twist in the fabric. Armand’s nails, just sharp and dangerous enough to be felt through his shirt as he clung to Daniel and let himself be kissed.
Daniel sucked at his lower lip, worried at it between his teeth. Released it and then let out a quiet sound when Armand did the same back to him. His lips would be flushed and swollen after this. He’d bear the evidence of Armand’s kiss for the rest of the night. The thought made him shudder.
Somewhere in the city an ambulance siren wailed. The door to their building opened, the old hinges on it squeaking their protest.
Daniel ignored the other resident trying to get out. There was plenty of room on the stairs for them to get by. And besides, Armand was tracing over the roof of his mouth with his tongue in that way that always made him melt. There was no way he was going to stop this just to be polite and let someone get past.
He wrapped his arms around Armand and pulled him closer. Broke away to nose at his cheek, tease him until Armand yanked at his shirt and dragged him back in. Daniel didn’t even try to resist. He just angled his face just right and kissed him again.
Sometimes Armand could be so normal. Sometimes he was just the young man Daniel was crazy about. The sweet boyfriend who let Daniel make out with him on a hot and sticky night, out on the front steps where all of New York could see.
When they stopped to press their foreheads together Daniel’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his own ears. For a moment he couldn’t even open his eyes. He had to sit there until he caught his breath.
In the yellow glow of the streetlight Armand looked so alive. His mouth was stained. It was blue from the syrup. Flushed red from Daniel’s kiss.
“Your lips are blue,” Daniel said. His hand was on Armand’s cheek, thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth. “Could you taste the slushie any better that way?”
Armand shook his head. He ducked in and kissed Daniel again.
“No, Daniel. All I could taste was you.”