Chapter Text
“You want to end things?” David asks in the middle of dinner, dropping his cutlery onto his plate in apparent surprise.
Louis is not entirely sure the surprise is warranted. They’ve been engaged for close to four years and still haven’t set a date for their wedding. They didn’t even live together. No one in Louis’s life was surprised when he broke the news that he was planning on breaking his engagement to David, but David apparently was.
“It’s not like we’ve been spending a lot of time together.” Louis points out, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He had imagined this going differently. “And I think we’re just on different paths right now.”
“I want to spend more time with you, Louis, but you’ve been blowing me off. Look, baby, if you’re stressed out about work, maybe you should take some time off and we can go somewhere again.” David’s tone is a little desperate.
Louis had decided it was best to do things in public. The last breakup he had was at home and had resulted in numerous house calls about a domestic disturbance. But he was seriously regretting that decision now, looking around covertly to see if anyone had noticed David’s rising tone.
It probably isn’t the best time to mention that he’s already packed David’s things for him, but he says it anyway. “They’re in boxes in my car. But you can just mail my things to me.”
But then David turns mean suddenly, laughing snidely. “You know, Louis, I actually do know what this is about.”
It sounds like a trap, but Louis is curious. “What’s it about?”
“It’s about that ex-husband of yours.”
“Lestat?” Louis laughs, then quiets when he realizes David is serious. “No, David, it’s definitely not about him.”
“He lives two blocks from you.”
“This is one of the densest cities in the world.” Louis says flatly. “It’s not like there’s a lot of space to fit all 8 million of us. I’m sure there are plenty of divorced people who live close to each other.”
David’s face twists. “You say that like you don’t know he followed you there.”
“Not this again. Please.”
Did Louis himself think the same paranoid thing when he heard from Armand that Lestat had purchased a place only a stone’s throw away from Louis’s? Of course. And did he immediately call his agent to ask about putting his place up for sale and finding another one as far away as possible? Maybe.
But Bricks told him the same thing he told David: Lestat wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety. If he wanted to be back in Louis’s life, he would be knocking down the door and making Louis’s phone unusable by calling incessantly and changing numbers whenever Louis blocked him. Louis had learned that lesson a year after their divorce.
However, Louis had never caught so much as a glimpse of Lestat in all the time since they’ve been living in close proximity. No orchestrated run-ins at the grocery store, no stray calls — not a single sighting of that blonde head anywhere.
Louis had only ever seen him once while walking past a restaurant with a big glass window and only one occupant on the other side. The sight of Lestat dining alone, a frown on his face as he scrolled on his phone, was so striking, so unusual, that Louis lingered by the window staring at him, only darting away when Lestat moved like he was about to turn his head and see Louis there.
Eventually, even Louis had to admit that it was probably just a coincidence. It was clear Lestat had moved on. The realization hurt just as much as it soothed Louis’s heart, but he didn’t want to examine that feeling too closely.
David is still talking. “You know, Louis, I really wanted to believe that you were with me for me, but maybe my mother was right and you were only with me to stick it in his face, I should have—”
Louis tunes the rest of it out, texting Lily covertly under the table to meet him for drinks as soon as this was over.
Ending an engagement turns out to be pretty simple; far simpler than ending a marriage, at least.
His family accept the news with relative predictability: Grace is sympathetic and too knowing, Paul is unsurprised and too knowing, and his mother is silent on the other end of the phone for too long before asking when Louis plans to come home. As far as reactions go, Louis will take it.
Work is another thing altogether. There is nothing people in advertising love more than gossip, and this was pretty juicy for the holiday season. When Louis shows up to work on Monday sans engagement ring, he knows it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows. By day’s end, Louis has received a dozen “random” drop-ins to his office to ask about how he is and just as many invitations to get drinks, dinner, or straight-up offers to hook up.
Louis shrugs and laughs it all off, but is more than ready to be done with the month at this point, nevermind the day. Two minutes to the end of the day, though, a text comes in that makes him freeze.
didn’t i say it was an ominous sign that his trousers were always too short at the ankle?
The number is not saved, but it doesn’t matter — Louis knows who it is. Who else would reappear in his life just to crow over Louis’s relationship falling apart?
Louis deletes the message swiftly.
But just a few days later, as Louis is studying some mock-ups for a prospective client, his phone lights up with another message, again from an unsaved number.
i think i saw him on the train this morning, he was crying 😢
Louis feels his whole face twitch in annoyance and some grudging amusement, and, this time, cannot resist responding. You can start a club now.
Lestat replies almost immediately: ROFL 😇
It’s absurd enough to make Louis snort, and he bites his lip, thinking for a moment, before reluctantly saving the number. It’s not like he’s going to use it, but it’s useful to know where Lestat is striking from.
It turns out to be useless, though, when just a couple of weeks later, they’re in the same room for the first time in years.
In Louis’s defense, his defenses are already extremely low when it happens. It is a flurry of several things happening to him all at once: (1) he has to be at Armand’s Christmas party fresh out of another failed relationship; (2) the drinks are free-flowing, delicious, and he has already arranged the car to drive him home at the end of the night so there’s no lingering worry about drinking too much; and (3) his ex-husband is here.
Christmas has always been a hard time for Lestat. Even when they were married, they usually said no to invitations altogether unless they were work functions that required Louis's presence. Louis has vivid memories of nights leading up to Christmas spent on long walks, holding hands in empty movie theaters, and trying new restaurants — pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening in the world until Christmas morning where they’d put the act aside and exchange gifts, Lestat softened enough under the glow of the early morning light and Louis’s affection to allow it.
That Lestat is voluntarily at a Christmas party, seemingly in a good mood, bright and chatty enough to be holding conversations with Armand’s friends who he used to call dull and lifeless is further proof that the man has changed in ways Louis has lost track of.
“Hello, Louis.”
Or maybe not that changed. Lestat’s smile is small and innocent, but his warmth is familiar and he’s leaning in too close to be appropriate, using music that is barely audible as an excuse to speak almost directly into Louis’s ear.
Louis leans away, not bothering to cushion the rudeness. “Merry Christmas, Lestat.”
Something bright sparks in Lestat’s eyes, like amusement. “Armand did not mention you’d be here."
“I come every year.” Unlike you, goes unsaid.
Lestat waves a hand casually, “Oh. I had dinner plans cancel on me so I thought I would come see Armand’s catering for this thing.”
There is, as always at any of Armand’s functions, no food being served, and it was an old inside joke to say that even if they had no money left for dinner, they could always go to Armand’s for sustenance. Louis ducks his head quickly to hide a grudgingly amused smile. It would not do well for Lestat to see any kind of positive reaction lest he take it as encouragement.
Louis nods at someone he vaguely recognizes at the other side of the room. He wouldn’t usually be this eager to talk to anyone, but special circumstances require it. “I’ll see you later, Lestat.”
It isn’t anywhere near a promise and Louis has full intentions of sneaking out before he has to talk to Lestat again, but just an hour later, he’s pulled into Lestat’s orbit again when Louis finds him rifling through Armand’s kitchen cabinets, apparently looking for something to eat.
“You weren’t kidding about those dinner plans, huh?”
Lestat smirks. “Do I seem like someone who would lie about that, Louis?”
“And more.”
At this point, a few drinks in, Louis is vaguely aware that his tone is too flirtatious and not sarcastic enough and very aware that Lestat fully knows this. Unfortunately, he has little to no awareness at all of this can only mean they’re careening full speed into another disaster.
The rest of the night is an unfortunate blur, fueled by Armand’s open bar.
As much as Louis tries to create some physical distance between them — and he doesn’t try very hard — Lestat is always only one step behind, ready to make some joke or insert himself into a conversation Louis is already having. It’s infuriating and charming in equal measure, and Louis feels himself falling into the familiar heady feeling of being chased by Lestat, being wanted by him.
He feels ridiculous and stupid and incredibly horny. And that Lestat is here to soak all that up, to take those feelings and give them a purpose — it’s like fate. Or a curse.
At some point, Lestat says, speaking directly to Louis’s lips, “Do you want to share a smoke on the balcony, Louis?”
His pupils are blown so Louis, of course, licks his lips and says very innocently, “Oh yeah, thanks for asking, Les.”
They don’t make it outside, barely closing the door to one of Armand’s bathrooms before they’re all over each other, lips meeting and hands fumbling and competing for who can take the other’s pants off faster.
It has all the familiar beats Louis remembers from their marriage.
“I’ve missed you, Louis.” Lestat’s words are surprisingly tender whispered against an ear, in contrast to the hard pace he sets fucking him. “I’ve missed you so much, mon cher, my love.”
“Les, fuck.” Louis groans, his head dizzy with Lestat’s words and the pleasure sparking up his spine. The hand lotion they found in Armand’s bathroom cupboard is not nearly slippery enough to use like this, and Lestat has to keep pulling his cock out to slick himself up repeatedly, and it’s right on the edge of painful and too much when he fucks it back inside him. It’s so good Louis sees sparks behind his eyes every time he blinks.
“Missed you.” Louis confesses in a rush, wishing desperately that Lestat was fucking him on a bed, where he could wrap himself around him, claw at his back, taste his spit—
“Kiss me.” Louis begs, turning his head towards Lestat.
Lestat leans in to kiss him sloppily, their tongues moving with little finesse before settling into the rhythm they know they enjoy. Louis moans at the taste of him, his blood singing at the familiarity of it.
Lestat laughs breathlessly at his eagerness, joyful. “I knew he wasn’t fucking you properly. Not like how you need it.”
Louis shudders at the arrogance of it, but can’t find the words to deny it when Lestat’s thrusts are punching out small moans out of him. He suddenly needs to feel like he’s affecting Lestat as much as he is Louis — needing desperately to hear that Lestat has been pining for some part of him.
He grinds back hard, twisting his hips in a circle on Lestat’s dick, catching him off-guard and making him moan. “And you missed me? You missed fucking me?
Lestat’s hands on his hips are hard enough to bruise. He says brokenly, “You know I have.”
Louis’s hand stutters on his cock and he comes hard, his shoulders curling in as the orgasm wracks through him. He’s barely aware of Lestat behind him finding his own end.
“Putain.” Lestat breathes later, splayed all over Louis’s back and kissing his temple clumsily. “Are you okay, cheri?”
Louis nods, eyes squeezed closed. “Yeah.”
Lestat kisses his temple again, hands reaching down to clean the come off Louis, then pulling his underwear on again, buttoning his trousers. Louis leans heavily against him, his limbs too heavy to be of any help.
Lestat says something about booking a car for them to take them back to Lestat’s apartment, about distracting Armand and making up some excuse so they can sneak out, and Louis nods and nods, all the while his mind comes back to him in a panic.
As soon as Lestat slips out the door, Louis pats his pockets, checking that he has everything, and resolutely ignoring his reflection in the mirror, leaves.
It only occurs to him the next day, while nursing the worst hangover he’s had in a decade, his phone off, that he let Lestat fuck him without a condom. He sighs, knowing that he’ll have to do an STD panel soon. Who knows who the fuck Lestat has been sleeping with?
It never occurs to him to pick up any Plan B. He hasn’t bothered with birth control in a while, but what did it matter? After all, they’d tried for years without getting pregnant, fucking at all hours of the day, trying every position the human body was capable of, Louis taking all kinds of vitamins to encourage his body to take. What were the chances one sloppy fuck in a bathroom would result in anything?
Their marriage had been an impulsive decision, one that had inauspicious signs written all over it, destined to haunt the rest of Louis’s life.
They had been sleeping together for over eight months and it had been six months since they had grudgingly admitted to the other that they had stopped sleeping with other people and would like the other to stop sleeping with other people, too, please. They were doing something that resembled dating and yet was nothing like any relationship Louis had ever had before. Even looking back at it with everything he now knew, Louis wasn’t sure what to call it except that his once-small and contained life had suddenly exploded with Lestat’s presence.
Their engagement went like this:
“I’m never going to get married.” Lestat said thoughtfully one evening as they smoked and watched reality TV in Lestat’s giant bed, naked under the sheets.
“Yeah?” Louis turned his head lazily. “You don’t believe in tying yourself down to one person forever?”
Lestat glanced at him quickly, then shrugged. “No.”
Some weird feeling had burned in Louis’s chest then, a weird impulse rising in him. He wanted to prove something suddenly. That he could keep Lestat to himself, to make sure no one could ever take him from Louis. He put his cigarette out to distract himself, ashing it on the tray between them.
“So what would it take for you to marry?” Louis asked, voice harder than he wanted it to be.
Lestat laugh was a little uncomfortable, a little self-conscious, like he wasn’t the one who brought up the topic. “For someone to ask, I suppose.”
He hummed like he was deep in thought, wondering what the fuck was going on with him even as he said, “What if I asked?”
Lestat looked stunned for a moment before laughing. “Oh, Louis, you almost scared me.” But his eyes were wide and he was watching Louis, looking like he was barely breathing.
Louis should have laughed it off and taken the out Lestat was offering. He didn’t. “So you’d say no?”
“Are you…asking, Louis?” There’s a beautiful flush over Lestat’s face, his cheeks pink.
Louis didn’t even hesitate. Heart in his throat, he said, “Will you marry me?” Then added a moment later, sheepishly, “Ring to follow.”
Lestat’s eyes were wide, and he swallowed shakily. “Are you serious, Louis?”
“If your answer is no—“
“Yes.” Lestat said, blinking his wet eyes rapidly. “Yes, Louis, if you’re serious, if you’ll have me.”
“You’ll marry me?” Louis said giddily, climbing clumsily into Lestat’s lap, holding his cheeks in his hands. “Really?”
“Yes, Louis.” Lestat looked dazed. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Louis repeated, laughing. “You won’t wait for the gaudy engagement ring?”
Lestat shook his head. “You might change your mind before then.”
Louis kissed him a little clumsily. “Don’t be ridiculous. I love you.” He whispered.
“I love you, too.” Lestat’s face was wet, but his smile was dazzling. “I think…this is the best day of my life.”
Maybe it shouldn’t surprise him that Lestat appears on his doorstep after barely 24 hours have passed since they fucked at Armand’s party, but it surprises him all the same.
Lestat is dressed in a suit, all formal, and his hair is tied back like he does when he’s trying to be serious. As if that wasn’t enough to set alarm bells ringing, he’s also carrying a large bouquet of amaryllis flowers. Louis’s favorites.
Louis stares at the flowers in detached horror, then at the strained nervous smile on Lestat’s face. “What is this, Lestat?”
“I wanted to give you some space, but I think we need to talk.” Lestat clears his throat. “I didn’t want us to reconnect this way, I had planned…something different. But after the other night, I think we’re on the same page again, oui?”
Lestat keeps speaking, but an incessant buzzing starts in Louis’s head, blocking the rest of it out.
“Lestat. Stop it.” Louis says a touch too loudly, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead. He can feel the headache he’s been keeping at bay returning.
Lestat nods but he clearly isn’t listening, saying softly, entreating, “It’s okay, mon cher. We can take things slow.”
Louis quiets, disbelieving. Slow is not exactly in Lestat’s dictionary, and Louis is proven right with his next words. “I have tickets to see Turandot. Remember we saw it on our honeymoon? Well, our proper honeymoon, anyway.”
The buzzing in Louis’s head increases to an almost deafening degree, and he blurts out with little finesse, “I can’t do this with you, Lestat.”
Lestat has the gall to look surprised. “Because of him?”
“Because we’re divorced.”
Lestat’s expression sours, and he lowers the bouquet he’s been holding up hopefully. “Yes, I am aware.”
“Then you’re probably also aware that we divorced for a very good reason. A reason that has not magically…magically fucking disappeared.”
“It’s been years.” Lestat says earnestly, like that means anything, like time was enough to wipe the slate between them clean.
Louis sees red. Of course it was easy for Lestat to believe that. “You probably know better than most people, Lestat, that sex can not only be a bad idea, but also completely meaningless."
“Ah.” Lestat breathes out, his eyes dimming. “I see.”
Lestat looks down at the flowers, laughing with no humor. “I see. I’m making a fool of myself. I misunderstood.”
“You did.”
Louis sets his mouth in a grim line. He refuses to feel any kind of pity, any kind of sympathy, for Lestat. Not ever again. He can deal with amusement, interest, maybe even sexual attraction, but he refuses to ever give Lestat any more of himself.
Lestat nod at him, saving gravely, “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry, Louis.”
Louis doesn’t say anything, letting the apology slide off his back. He’s heard enough of them from Lestat to last a lifetime, and he has no interest in hearing any more.
Appropriately, given the chaotic beginning to their marriage, their divorce was a similarly chaotic affair.
By the time they reached the point of being in conversations with their lawyers, things had gone very bitter between them and neither had any interest in an amicable separation. They used every opportunity available to them to make each other hurt as badly as possible, even when the knives they used on each other hurt them just as much.
“I can’t make it on that day.” Louis said blithely one day as they were arranging meetings for the month as the divorce dragged on. As had become the norm, this could only be done with their lawyers in the room acting as expensive and unwilling chaperones to prevent them going at each other’s throats. “David wants to take me to Greece.”
“David?” Lestat hissed, leaning across the table. “You are dating our marriage counselor?”
“Dating?” Louis frowned. “Who said anything about dating?”
He waited a beat for Lestat to relax again before rubbing at his eyebrow delicately with his left hand, the big fat diamond of his new engagement ring glinting in the office lights.
Lestat spent the next half hour threatening to call the police on him for bigamy.
“Tell me, Lestat, is being engaged to our ex marriage counselor better or worse than sleeping with our neighbor while we were still married?” Louis asked in faux wonder, looking around the room at their lawyer’s uncomfortable faces like he was seeking their opinion.
Their divorce was further complicated by the giant shift in their financial situations since getting eloped. At the time, Louis was working a shitty entry-level job that barely paid anything and Lestat supporting them both on what was left of his family’s money. By the time they divorced, they were independently and jointly wealthy, and both wanted to be the more magnanimous in their separation.
Lestat said dramatically, “I wish Louis to have all my earnings. Since money is the only thing he cares about, he should have more to fill the empty space in his chest where a heart should be.”
Louis smiled sharply back, “Aww, that’s sweet, but I always want to support struggling artists. Now that he’s with a gold digger, I don’t see that inheritance stretching any farther.”
In the six months since Louis had served him with divorce papers, Louis heard that Lestat had, in rapid succession, bought an opulently large house, hired a recording studio for Antoinette’s warbling, and bought her a tacky engagement ring (after, it should be noted, Louis’s own petty engagement with a much, much nicer ring).
But on the day they finally signed the papers, they were both somber. Their lawyers watched them warily like they had another trick up their sleeves for the final day.
It was shockingly anticlimactic and Louis felt mournful in a way that overwhelmed him. Of course, it was primarily a feeling of relief that he felt that it was finally over, that he was free now, that he would never again have to live under the same roof as this man who had made his life a shameful joke. But he also suddenly looked across the room at Lestat and saw not him as he was now, but the Lestat he fell in love all those years ago, who Louis loved with everything he had. It was as if there were two versions of the man sitting there, and Louis struggled to see past them.
Their antics suddenly felt so childish and stupid, and his face burned with embarrassment at the thought of what he’d been doing. They had a real marriage built on love and mutual support, and they chose to end it in the worst manner possible.
That feeling instantly evaporated when they left the office and Antoinette, waiting, jumped into Lestat’s arms, kissing him passionately on the mouth.
Right.
Lestat didn’t say anything as Louis walked away, but he felt Lestat’s eyes on his back the whole way to the elevator.
These are the memories that run through Louis’s mind as he stares at the positive pregnancy test sitting on his bathroom counter a whole four years after their divorce.
“Okay.” He says to himself in the mirror, trying for an small smile. The Louis in the mirror looks terrified. “Okay. These things can be faulty sometimes, it doesn’t have to mean anything.”
He goes out and buys five more from a variety of brands and two different pharmacies. Just to be sure. He follows the instructions carefully, laying them face-down on the bathroom counter and setting a timer.
Louis turns each test over one by one.
Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant.
Fuck.
He can’t believe Lestat finally managed to knock him up.