Home / Fan Fiction / V(cough) C(cough) fic / Living With the Unfamiliar

DISCLAIMER: The following stories are all non-profit, amateur efforts not intended to infringe on the rights of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, David Geffen, Warner Brothers, Geffen Pictures, Knopf, Randomhouse, the city of New Orleans, the U.S. Consititution, any copyright holders that I might not have thought of or even a certain author who shall remain nameless but who has a set of initials which are, coincidentally enough, just one letter off from spelling "B.S."

Living With the Unfamiliar, Year 1, a 'tweener spec
by the Brat Queen

Immortality Awards:
Second Place: Best Romance '95-'96

"Take me as I am
I may disappear
Fade into the night
Lighter than your thoughts
Take me while you can
Never knowing who or what you are
Until you're living with the unfamiliar"

--October Project

I could feel my temper starting to rise. Foolish, I know, but I can't help these things sometimes. And at the time logical thought wasn't my main concern.

David was supposed to be home, you see. But he wasn't. He had promised me that he would be back within two hours so that I could go out and hunt and not have to worry about leaving Louis alone.

He was only five minutes late but I was ready to go insane. I'd been enclosed in the flat for two whole nights with no one but myself for company and by now I was sick of it. I couldn't even bring myself to look at Louis' closed bedroom door anymore. It made me feel ill.

And the living room, of course, was just as bad. I had to design the flat so that the damn thing was right in the middle of it, hadn't I? I couldn't leave my room without passing through it and, in doing so, pass by the velvet lounge as well.

Two nights. Two nights since Louis and I had been there. Together. In every sense of that word that man had ever intended.

Sweet memories of him. His body entwined with mine. His soft lips, his hands, his blood. Mon Louis.

I had carried him back to his bedroom once it was all over and the light of the sun began to rise. I'd laid him there lovingly and, like a gentleman, went back to my own room when David returned soon after. One must act with class, after all. And, when the sun set, Louis and I would be together again.

But the sun had set and set and Louis had not come out of his room.

If he was awake, I couldn't tell. David had been too strangely silent for me to attempt to ask him. All I knew was that closed bedroom door.

Fine then. I'd shut myself up in my bedroom as well. Partly out of worry and partly out of a temper tantrum, I'll admit. I lay in my own bed not knowing what to do. Had something gone wrong with Louis?

Or had something gone wrong with us?

It had been David's suggestion that I go out tonight. He came to me earlier and, with that proper English voice of his, had persuaded me to take some time to myself. I didn't want to, at first. I was reluctant to leave Louis and the possibility that he might want to see me when I was gone. But I knew that I needed to get out. I felt trapped in my own home. Finally, with relief, I agreed. I longed to fill my lungs with the cool night air and, perhaps, to have a little fun as well. I waved good-bye to David, dressed myself in my finest linen suit and waited.

And waited.

Where the hell was he?

I paced in my room impatiently. Now that I was ready, all I wanted was to leave. But David wasn't back and, even feeling as uncertain as I did, I didn't want to leave Louis alone. I *couldn't* leave Louis alone. Who knew what could happen to him?

I thought of Louis, all by himself in his room, and wondered what he was doing. If he was sleeping, I could understand. He'd needed a lot of sleep lately. His body had a tremendous amount of healing to do and that was exhausting work. He was probably asleep.

Of course, he might *not* be. It would be entirely like Louis to lock himself up in his bedroom and lay there in the dark, miserably, for days. How many times had I seen him do *that* little stunt in the past?

And a Hell of a lot of good it ever did him. All it ever did was make him more depressed.

But what if I had been the one to make him miserable?

For the millionth time that night alone, I wished I could read Louis' thoughts. I would have given anything, just then, to know even the tiniest glimmer of what he was feeling. My dreams were of no help. They were too confusing and convoluted for me to know what, if anything, came from Louis. There had been no repeat of that one dream we had shared together so completely that it might as well have been real. Now I was on my own and I had no idea what to do.

The sound of a scream ripped through my head. I needed no time to know it was Louis.

Using every bit of preternatural power, I raced to his bedroom, forcing the door open as I did so. The light from the doorway cut across the bed and Louis jumped back from it in fear, trying to shield his eyes as he did so, but his whole body was shaking too much for him to hold anything still. He'd had another nightmare.

"L-Lestat?" His teeth were chattering but I could make out his attempt to say my name.

He'd had enough of these dreams for me to know how to comfort him. I slowly walked to his side of the bed and sat down beside him.

"Oui, Louis. C'est Lestat. Tu as un reve, mais il est fini. Maintenant, je suis ici avec toi."

He grabbed at me and wrapped his arms around me tightly, burying his head against my chest and sobbing my name. I was momentarily surprised. In the past, all that he had needed and tolerated where my assurances that his dream was over. The fact that I was there had seemed to mean so little. But now he clung to me as though I were the last thing on this earth. Not knowing if he might pull back, I carefully put my arms around him and continued to whisper the simple words that had always helped in the past. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I dimly noted that he hadn't changed out of the clothes he had been wearing when we were last together, but this knowledge paled in comparison to the feel of Louis in my arms.

After his trembling had stopped, he shifted position and lay his head on my shoulder. "It was so strong this time," he said hoarsely. His words were in French, as mine had been. "I didn't think I could wake up, then you were here."

He turned to look at me. His green eyes searched mine in the darkness then he came in close so that his cheek was against mine. "I'd still be there, if not for you," he whispered.

My heart was pounding. He'd gone from a wild, frightened creature to a soft, sensual man. His right hand lay on my chest and I could feel the heat of it through the thin material of my shirt. The warmth of his hand throbbed deliciously over my pectoral muscle and centered on the even more sensitive nipple. Louis didn't resist me as I pulled him closer. I let my hand slide through his silken hair and I could hear him sigh as he leaned into my touch, his body wonderfully aligned with mine as I brought him towards me so that I might kiss his tender mouth.

"Lestat--" he began to speak but suddenly stiffened in my arms and broke away from my embrace. I moved towards him but he moved further away from me. He brought his hands to his lap and made tight fists of them. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and, when he saw my questioning look, made a slight motion towards the doorway.

David had finally come home.

"Is everything alright?" he asked. He looked from Louis to me, then back. "Louis? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine," Louis said, not turning around to look at him.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm *fine*," Louis clenched his fists even tighter and I could see him begin to tremble again.

"Lestat--"

"He said he's fine, David," I glared at him from behind Louis' back. Couldn't David see that he was only making it worse?

David looked at us for a moment, then took a step back. "Forgive me for interrupting," he said. He pulled the bedroom door closed behind him and left.

I switched on the lamp beside Louis' bed. "Louis--"

"Why does everyone persist in asking me that inane question?" Louis got up from the bed and stood in front of me. "Do they think that they are going to get a different answer? I feel as though I'm trapped in some third-rate horror novel where the protagonist is lost in a world where the inhabitants only speak one sentence. 'Are you well? Are you well? Are you well?' When will I be allowed to speak something other than the mythical answer to 'Are you well'?"

For a moment I thought he expected a response from me but then he sat back down and put on a pair of shoes that had been left by the side of the bed.

"Let's go out, Lestat. I can't stand being in this room anymore." He crossed over to the window and quickly opened the blinds and sash. "Please? Will you go somewhere with me?"

"Of course," I said. I walked over to his side. "Where would you like to go?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here." He looked to see if I was still interested then, once reassured, jumped out through the window to land soundlessly on the ground below. I waited until he was out of the way, then joined him.

"Lead the way," I told him.

We walked in silence through the dark New Orleans streets. If Louis had a destination in mind, I didn't know what it was. I simply walked beside him, brimming with satisfaction that he was finally out of the flat and that he had chosen me to come along with him for the journey.

The streets were mostly deserted, save for the occasional passing car. Louis took no notice of this. To be quite honest, I'm not sure what Louis took notice of that evening. He had relapsed into dark visions with far less stimulus than all of New Orleans at night, I didn't want to risk anything by trying to draw something out of him. I had no idea of what thoughts ran through his head until the moment he stopped and tried to look at his reflection in the window of a parked car.

"Lestat? Is there something wrong with my sweater?" Unable to see the back of his sweater in the car window, he turned so that I might look. "It feels as though there's a rip in it."

As soon as the back of the sweater came into view, his question became rather comical. There was a tear in the garment, a rather large one at that. It cut across his back in a diagonal and exposed much of his pale skin.

"There is," I said. I ran my fingers down through the break. "Right here, can you feel it?'

He moved away from me and looked at his reflection again. "Mon Dieu," he said. "When did that happen?"

"The other night, when we, ah--" I cleared my throat and let him complete the sentence in his mind.

"But--"he began, then stopped, his mouth forming a small O as he suddenly remembered the exact moment when I had been lying on top of him, my hands underneath him as he kissed me so passionately that one of my hands had jerked reflexively and created the tear in question.

He was beginning to blush. He quickly changed the subject. "Lestat, I can't walk out in public like this. It's unseemly."

"We could go back to the flat and change."

He shook his head. "No, I don't want to go back, not just yet."

"Here then," I took off my linen coat and handed it to him. "You can wear this over the sweater and no one shall be the wiser."

He took the coat gratefully and put it on. Somewhat loose on me, it was roughly two sizes too large for him. It hid the sweater, but also covered his hips and hands as well. The faded black of his sweater and jeans stood in sharp contrast to the gleaming white jacket. On top of that, his hair, which is mussed at the best of times, was now a tousled mess.

In short, he looked absolutely awful.

Louis turned back to his reflection and took all of this in. He stared at himself for a moment then leaned against the hood of the car, burying his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

Suddenly worried, I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "It's alright, Louis. It's not as bad as it seems."

"No, it's worse," Louis said. He turned to look at me and he was laughing. Laughing! He stepped back and looked at his reflection again. "Oh God, look at me. I'm the yuppie from Hell."

"Louis!"

"I didn't mean you. The jacket's lovely. In fact, it's the only nice thing that I'm wearing. Of course, there is this," he shook his hand to show how long the sleeves were, "but that's forgivable. As for the rest of it." He laughed again. "I look positively absurd. Admit it."

"Well, you've had better days," I said, but I smiled to take any sting out of my words.

"You've always had a flair for the understatement, Lestat," he said. He looked around us. "There is no way on this earth that I am going to stay outdoors for another second while I'm looking like this."

"Where do you want to go?"

"This way," he said. He crossed the street and walked down a few blocks until we came upon a small Church. "Here. We can go inside and have some privacy. I've been here before. It's not grand, but it's nice."

If it made him happy, it thrilled me beyond words. With a quick mental command, I unlocked the doors then held them open for him as he went inside. I followed right behind him then locked the doors up behind us so that we wouldn't be disturbed.

The Church was empty, of course, with the only light that of the Votive candles and the faint streetlight that filtered through the stained glass.

"Lestat, I don't have any money with me. Would you mind...?" Louis motioned towards the poorbox. He liked to make donations whenever he visited Churches. It made him feel better for violating them at night in this manner.

"Not at all," I said. Taking hold of the corner of the jacket with one hand, I reached inside of it with the other, accidentally brushing Louis' hip as I did so.

"Lestat! What are you doing?" Louis grabbed my hand and pushed it away from him. "This is a Church!"

"I know," I said. "And I was about to make a donation for you."

"What does that have to do with what you were about to do?" he asked.

"My wallet," I said, "is in the inside pocket of my coat. Why, what did you think I was going to do?"

"I-I wasn't sure," Louis said. He looked away and I had a sudden suspicion of what he had been thinking. "Here, why don't you sit down, Lestat, and I'll join you in a minute?"

He looked extremely uncomfortable. Not wanting to make it any worse, I made my way to the first pew then waited for him. I listened to the sound of his footfall as he walked to the front of the Church to join me. Louis had always been so careless about that sort of thing. Anyone could hear him coming, if they tried. But now there was a change. Every now and again, the sound would disappear, only to appear again much closer. It was as though my blood was working in him, trying to protect him even if he didn't know it.

And how much more could be done if he drank even more from me? How strong could I make him? How quickly would he heal and never again be this weak creature that he was struggling so hard not to be?

If only he would let me.

He sat beside me, handing me my wallet as he did so. "This way we won't have any further confusion," he said.

I looked inside before putting it into my back pocket. "You gave fifty dollars?"

"It was the smallest bill you had," he said. "If it was too much for me to take--"

"It's fine," I said. "You can have anything of mine that you want, Louis. You don't have to ask."

"Thank you," he said. He ran his hand through his hair. "I used your comb as well. I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine too."

We sat in silence for a moment, both of us thinking about what our small talk had not distracted us from. It was Louis who finally ventured forth.

"Lestat, what did we do the other night?"

Unable to read the emotions in his eyes, I took the cowardly approach. "What do you think we did, Louis?"

"I think," he said slowly, "that we made love."

"I've been thinking that as well."

"But, it wasn't what I expected."

"How so?"

He looked frustrated. "I don't know. I just--I have no way to think of it, to place it in my mind. Everything was so different. Being with you, being with a vampire. I wasn't sure what would happen until it did."

I was crushed. "You didn't like it then?"

"No! I mean yes! I mean--" he put his hand on my shoulder. "I mean yes I liked it, Lestat. Mon Dieu, I more than liked it. I loved it, I loved being with you. I haven't felt anything like that since you first made me and God knows I couldn't appreciate it then. Not like I can now, after all we've been through."

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong," he said. "Only that I do not understand where the line is drawn."

"What line?"

"The line that says one thing is making love and the other is drinking blood," he said. "What did you and I do the other night that we have not done sometime before with a mortal?"

"The line is the same that it's always been," I told him. "And that is in the intent of what you are doing. The other night, you and I were not trying to hurt each other, we were trying to be together, to show each other how much we cared."

"And this is how we make love," he said, thoughtfully.

"It's variations on that theme," I said, "but yes, that is how."

"You have done such things before, with other vampires." There was a mild accusation in this.

"I've never been a celibate man for long, Louis. You've known that since the day you met me and I've never pretended otherwise. I can, however, be a very loyal man."

"I know." He smiled and kissed me, softly at first, then hesitantly. He looked at me curiously. "Lestat, I'm not sure how to ask you this, but did you--that is, was I--"

"I enjoyed myself very much," I said.

"Really?" He looked surprised. "Please, you can be honest. After all, it's been over 200 years, I'd understand if there was something, shall we say, lacking."

"Nothing of the kind," I said. Where on earth would he get a foolish idea like that? Certainly not from me! Determined to keep him from continuing this line of conversation, I closed the gap between us and brought my mouth to his. He resisted at first, then gave in completely, opening the silken wetness of his hot mouth to me, his tongue darting out to meet mine, his hands tugging at my hair. It was as though he waited for my physical permission to try something new, but then could not stop himself. "Ah, Louis," I purred, "You are such a delightfully wonderful kisser. Have you ever been told that before?"

"No," he gasped, then silenced me with his lips. I pushed him back against the pew and ran my hand down his firm, beautiful body.

And how many ways could I explore this lovely creature with my hands alone?

As if reading my thoughts, Louis spoke again. "Lestat, what were those 'variations' that you spoke of before?"

Leave it to Louis to talk this to death and back. But if he liked talking, I could do talking. In my own way, of course.

"It's up to the imagination really," I said. I began nibbling along his neck. "It can be anything we wish it to. After all, the only thing that differs from how we did this sort of thing as mortals is how it culminates. And believe me, my beautiful one, our way is infinitely better."

I took one of his hands in mine, kissed the fingertips, then made my way to the sensitive veins in his wrist. He moaned as I nipped and sucked at them, but did not break the skin. I pushed the sleeves of my coat and his sweater higher up his arm and teased my way to the vein in the crook of his elbow. Both garments, however, became too thick and would only go up halfway.

"Here's an opportunity for one of those variations," I said. "Since these clothes of yours are clearly getting in the way, we'll have to take them off and see what happens when there is nothing at all in our way. Be it coats or anything else."

I slid my hand underneath his sweater and began to move it up his chest. Louis suddenly realized what I was doing and shoved me away, jumping up from the pew as he did so.

"Lestat!"

"What?" I tried for fake innocence. Then I saw how truly upset he was. "Louis, I'm sorry. What's wrong?"

"Did you mean to--to take everything?"

"I would have joined in, Louis," I got up and stood beside him. "Or let you do it. You know I don't like being left out of the fun." I grinned at him, gently.

"Not in a Church!" Louis folded his arms and leaned against the alter railing. "I mean it, Lestat! Not ever!"

"That's fine," I said. "We got carried away, it happens. Now why don't we go home and continue this where we left off?"

I went to take him by the hand but he didn't move. "Louis? What's wrong?"

"I'm not sure if I can," he said quietly. "Not in the way you were about to do. With the clothes I mean."

"Why?" I asked, and then I remembered. The last time that Louis had been stripped in any manner, he had been left in the sun.

"Oh, Louis." I whispered. I pulled him into my arms. "Beautiful one, I would never do anything to hurt you, you know that. We don't have to do it this way if you don't want to."

"Really? But how?"

"We did it before," I reminded him. "We can do it again. Louis, I won't do anything that you don't want of me. We can go as slowly as you like. I won't even take one of my own cufflinks off without your permission."

"When you say slowly," he said, "do you mean the relationship as well? Because I don't think I'm ready to move into your bedroom, just yet."

"That's fine," I said. "I don't think I'm ready to have you in there, just yet. Not on a permanent basis at any rate." I brought him closer and brushed my lips against his. "But how about tonight? Would you like to curl up with me on my nice, big bed?"

"It would seem that I would have to," Louis replied, a slight grin shaping his lips. "After all, my door no longer has a lock and I shudder to think what would happen if David interrupted us again."

"Trust me, beautiful one," I said, leading him out of the Church, "after all we've been through, I wouldn't let God Himself interrupt us."