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“What about this one, mon cher ?” Lestat turns around with a flourish, brandishing a tiny pumpkin costume in hand.
Louis pauses. It’s adorable, of course it’s adorable. But that’s besides the point.
“Cute, but no.” he says in answer, bending down to check on Claudia.
He can hear the familiar sound of Lestat’s over dramatic sigh of disappointment behind him, and then his husband is next to him at the side of the stroller, still holding the costume. He bends down and holds it up next to Claudia, who's currently lying deep in sleep, dressed in an overly expensive fall-themed onesie from their last shopping trip. Louis had relented that time. He would not relent this time.
“But Louis, wouldn’t she look just delightful? Imagine it, Louis. Just imagine. ”
Louis could imagine it. Their daughter had just turned one last month, and Louis still hadn’t stopped thinking she must be the most adorable baby who ever lived every time he looked at her. The thought of her dressed up as a little pumpkin was cute enough to make him melt. But no. He couldn’t lose sight of what was really important here.
They were throwing a party for Halloween, a small, family-friendly party where no one would be drinking anything stronger than beer or wine and the playlist featured ‘The Monster Mash’ and ‘Spooky Scary Skeletons’, but a party nonetheless. And Lestat loved parties.
He’d taken to the planning and execution of said party with all the dedication and thoroughness most people would devote to a particularly important work project, to the point where he somehow completely forgot that the three of them needed costumes. Matching costumes, at that.
Louis hadn’t exactly remembered either, but that was only because he assumed there was no way his other half would forget.
So now, only a week and a half out from the big day, they were desperately searching for inspiration in cheap costumes in a last minute fashion that Lestat called ‘tragically American.’
“She would look very, very cute, I’m sure. But would you?” He asked his husband now, raising his eyebrows. “Orange really isn’t your color.”
Lestat frowned, standing back up and staring at the costume like he was envisioning himself in it. It looked comically tiny in his grasp. He looked back at Louis. “Why would I be dressed like a la citrouille , mon cher ? This is for the little one only.”
Louis grinned, trying not to seem as smug as he felt. “Matching costumes, remember, mon cher? If she’s a pumpkin, you’re a pumpkin. And so am I.”
Lestat sighed in defeat, hanging the costume back on the rack. “ C’est vrai. You may make a very attractive pumpkin. I would not.”
He turned back to Louis and Claudia. “And so, the search goes on” He said theatrically, like they were hunting for an ancient artifact and not just browsing the costume section at their local Spirit Halloween.
Louis had to smile at his husband’s dramatics. When they’d been looking into adoption, Lestat had fallen into a perpetual state of nervous panic that; in all the years he’d known him, Louis had only seen him in twice before. Once, when they’d first met and were crossing the delicate boundary between friendship and romance. And again, when they reconciled after their tumultuous breakup and Lestat had been walking on eggshells around him.
As much as he loved him, and as much as he’d craved fatherhood himself, Louis hadn’t been sure how Lestat would take to being a parent. He’d had a rough childhood, and he’d made it very clear that he wasn’t as confident in his ability to give a child the life and love they deserved as Louis was. It was part of why they’d broken up in the first place.
But when Lily, their friend and social worker, had asked them to foster the beautiful baby girl with a deceased mother and an unknown father, they both knew what the answer would be. And when Louis saw the awed wonder in Lestat’s eyes the first time he held her in his arms, he knew the answer would be the same if they were asked to adopt her.
And it was.
Now, Lestat ran his fingers over the racks of tiny baby and toddler costumes and mumbled something under his breath in his native French. He was wearing a vintage leather jacket and dark pants that were far too tight for a thirty nine year old, looking all for the world like he’d wandered off the set of The Lost Boys. It was part of his washed up rockstar look (said with all the love in the world) that had stuck around despite the fact that ‘The Vampire Lestat’ persona had been retired for the last five years.
Which gave Louis an idea. Peering into the stroller to check that his daughter was still dead to the world, he proceeded to walk over to where Lestat was deep into what Louis liked to affectionately refer to as his ‘shopaholic haze’.
“Lestat?” He asked quietly.
His husband did not turn around. He was actually singing in French, Louis realized. A lullaby, it sounded like. One he often sang to Claudia on the nights where they had trouble getting her to sleep. He felt a twinge of familiar fondness at the realization.
“Lestat?” He said again, louder this time. Not quite as loud as Lestat could be when he wanted attention, but loud enough.
Lestat turned, his styled blond locks swinging as he did. He smiled when he saw Louis, smiling wider when his eyes flicked down to Claudia in the stroller, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t here alone and was delighted to remember.
“Yes, mon amour? ”
Louis gently pushed the stroller back and forth, unable to conceal his grin. “I have an idea for our costumes, mon cher .”
Lestat raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”
“We should dress up as vampires.”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Claudia stirred with a tiny, adorable cry of awakening. Lestat was crouched down in front of her in a second. “Hello my little citrouille, did you enjoy your slumber?”
She gave a sunny little smile as she opened her eyes and recognised Lestat’s face. “Dada!”
Lestat was dada. Louis was papa. They weren’t sure how long those names would stick, but for now they did just fine.
Louis bent down, putting his face next to Lestat’s. Claudia’s gaze shifted. “Papa!” She said in excitement. Louis reached out and jiggled her tiny foot with his hand. “Claudia!” He replied, imitating her tone. Claudia let out one little giggle, and then a second when Lestat reached for her other foot.
“You think we should be a little family of vampires?” Lestat asked Louis, in between all the cooing and baby voices.
“It’d be kinda fun right? Putting the fangs back on?” Louis said, voice low as he made faces at their daughter.
“It would. But I do not think any of the vampire costumes in this… establishment would be appropriate.” He gestures vaguely to the shop around them.
Louis had to fight the urge to laugh. “Right, we need to be stylish vampires.”
“ Exactement.”
Claudia is making grabby hands, so Louis unstraps her from the pram and picks her up, watching as her face lights up with wonder at all of the Halloween decor surrounding them. Louis watches her carefully, instinctively feeling Lestat doing the same next to him, both of them anxiously waiting to see if their daughter’s amazement turns to fear.
But she seems perfectly happy, so Louis gives Lestat a one-shouldered shrug. “We can figure out the costumes ourselves, sure.” He pauses. “Or at least, you can.”
Lestat, smiles, looking decidedly smug, like he’d just won an argument where there hadn’t even been one. “Oh of course, though I will surely still need your enlightening input, mon cher .”
This would’ve sounded faintly sarcastic coming from anyone else, but Louis knows Lestat is being completely sincere. And even if he doubted it, his spouse leans over and plants a chaste kiss on his mouth. Smoothing back the light smattering of dark curls on their daughter’s head, he plants a soft kiss there too.
Lestat decides to make a moodboard for their costumes. An honest to God, physical moodboard. He couldn’t do a Pinterest board, something modern and easy, no. He buys a large cork board from a craft store and props it up against a spare wall in their study.
Then he proceeds to fill it with his ‘inspirations’. Color swatches and fabrics in shades of wine red, velveteen black and ivory white. Costumes from vampire movies and theater productions. Makeup ideas that he actually had found on Pinterest and Instagram (with Louis’ help). And a healthy amount of his own ‘The Vampire Lestat’ looks.
“I often find I am my own biggest inspiration.” He’d said, in answer to Louis’ questioning look when he wandered out of his photography studio to take a glance at how the costume creation was going. Currently situated in the center of the board was a picture of Lestat at one of his shows in San Francisco. He was on his knees, microphone held in a white-knuckle grip, wearing a dark, glittery jumpsuit with a deep V cut to his navel, fake blood spattering his face, neck and the pale expanse of his torso. Louis recognised the photo well. Because he had taken it.
He could feel Lestat’s eyes on him as he peered at the nostalgia-inducing picture. Next to it on the board, there were some preliminary sketches of three different outfits, two for grown men and one for a small but very precocious toddler. The more detailed sketches were spread out over the desk. Lestat joined him there, Claudia perched on his hip. “When are you taking them over to your seamstress friend?”
“Soon. This afternoon perhaps. I’ll take Claudia with me, I think. She likes it there. And her measurements will need to be taken.”
Claudia, who up to now had been quietly watching her fathers’ exchange, perked up at the sound of her name.
“Dada?” She asked, tugging at his loose hair. Lestat tried not to wince.
Louis laughed. “Yes, my love, Dada’s going to take you out on a walk later. You can see all the pretty colors at the dress shop.”
Claudia squealed with delight as Louis tickled her under the chin.
“You won’t join us, Louis?” Lestat asked, bouncing their daughter up and down, her giggles echoing.
“Nah, I’ll let you two spend some time together. I got some stuff I need to work on.”
Lestat returns from the seamstress in a remarkably good mood, with a very sleepy Claudia in tow. Louis imagines they’ll have no problem putting her down tonight.
“So, do you think the costumes will be done on time?” Louis asks as they cook dinner that night, sipping at a glass of red. It’s already the 23rd, and as good as Lestat’s tailor friends are, Louis can’t help but doubt their ability to finish three extravagant outfits in the space of a week.
He feels relieved that his only tasks have been to call up the people who used to do Lestat’s fangs and contacts back in the day and to procure some semi-realistic fake blood.
Lestat gives an easy shrug, sniffing at the aromas wafting up from the pot on the stove. “Of course. They may even be done early. We will have plenty of time, mon cher , do not fret.”
Louis chuckles to himself, taking another sip of wine. “Alright, alright. I’ll trust your judgment on the costumes. But I do think we need more cajun.” He gestured to the stove.
Lestat inhales deeply. “Perhaps. Juste un petit peu .”
Louis grabs the cajun.
Lestat, Louis decides, as well as his seamstress friend, has well and truly outdone himself.
The costumes are phenomenal.
For him and Lestat, form fitting dark pants are paired with brocade patterned waistcoats and long tailcoats over starched button up white shirts. The suits are complimentary, with Louis’ deep red waistcoat matching Lestat’s tailcoat and Lestat’s black waistcoat matching Louis’ tailcoat.
Claudia’s is a little dress that bears some similarity to a Christening gown. The torso is red with black lace, the skirt in layers of red and black and white that match her fathers’ outfits.
Once they’re dressed, they plan to artfully spray their clothes with fake blood, and then smear the stuff around their faces. Louis and Lestat will don both fangs and contact lenses that make their eyes look inhuman.
“They’re perfect.” Louis says in awe, watching Lestat do a twirl, his coattails billowing around his legs. “We’ll look like we walked right out of the 1800s.”
“A photoshoot done in the style of the time might be in order, non ?” Lestat says,as he finishes his twirling and takes Louis in his arms.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Louis grins, kissing Lestat.
He can see it in his head now. A sepia toned portrait of their little vampire family. It would certainly be more unique than most family photos. Something for Claudia to show off to all her friends when she’s older.
“Should we see how Claudia’s dress looks?” Louis pulls away, tugging at the lapels of Lestat’s jacket.
“ Oui. Though I assure you, it’ll be perfect.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
It is perfect. And Claudia looks perfectly comfortable in her little vampire costume, imitating her father with a twirl, delighted at the oohs and ahhs coming from her parents. Louis feels relieved that they’re not forcing her into something she doesn’t want to wear. He’d hate for them to be one of those parents. When she’s old enough, they’ll let her choose her own costumes, no matter how ridiculous or simple they are. Although knowing him and Lestat, he can’t imagine a daughter they raised ever choosing something simple or easy.
Louis kneels to adjust Claudia’s skirts. “Our guests are all going to be fawning over her.” He tells Lestat.
“Even more than usual, mon cher.” Lestat smiles.
Their guests
do
fawn over her.
Louis’ sister Grace, who still tells him almost every time they see each other that ‘there’s really no shame in divorce these days, you know, Louis.’ gasps with awe when the three of them greet her and her own family at the door.
“Well, I’ll have to give it to him.” She tells Louis later, when the two of them are sipping zombie themed mimosas as Claudia plays with Grace’s twins at their feet. “It looks like your husband is good for something.” She nods to Claudia’s lavish outfit, begrudging respect in her voice. “She looks beautiful.”
Louis grins. “And I don’t? Where’s my compliment?”
“Oh, don’t push it Louis.”
An hour into the party, an old friend finally makes an appearance. Louis hands Claudia off to Lestat because his brother Paul wants to show off their high school dance routine to ‘Thriller’. As he walks away from the makeshift dance floor afterwards, laughing and far more winded than he would’ve been at sixteen, he spots his husband and daughter with some new guests. A younger man he knows very well, and a much older one he’d never seen before in his life.
Claudia is in the old man’s arms, giggling as she tries to tug his glasses off his face. Louis meets Lestat’s gaze as he makes his way over, and his spouse gives the subtlest nod. It says don’t worry, she’s perfectly safe and happy with this stranger.
“Armand!” Louis calls as he approaches. “I’m so glad you could make it.” Armand smiles, and kisses Louis on both cheeks in a very typically European fashion.
Louis and Lestat’s history with Armand is a little..complicated. Mostly because they both dated him briefly, albeit years apart.
He had a fling with Lestat when they were both at theater school in Paris that ended less than amicably. A few years later, after Louis had broken up with Lestat for the first time and decided to spend some time in Paris, searching for inspiration, he’d met Armand. They’d bonded over a mutual love of art and a mutual disdain for Lestat, and before Louis knew it they’d been together for months. He couldn’t say that their running into Lestat himself in the Café de Flore was the catalyst for their explosive breakup weeks later, but it had certainly helped it along.
But by the time Louis and Lestat had gotten engaged, it was all water under the bridge. That didn’t mean Louis wasn’t surprised when Lestat told him Armand would be his best man, but when he’d questioned it his fiancé had just shrugged. “He’s one of my oldest friends. It makes a certain sense, non? ”
Now, Louis pulled away from his ex-boyfriend as he replied “As am I, Louis.” in an accent that was equally French and British. Louis grinned, and glanced at the older man by his side questioningly.
“This is Daniel.” Lestat supplies, quickly, “Armand’s..” He trailed off, leaving the title unspoken.
“Partner.” Daniel said, doing that weird older white person smile. “I’m far too old to be called a boyfriend.”
Louis thought he was probably right. He looked to be in his sixties, seventies even. Meaning he had at least 25 years on Armand. He also wasn’t wearing a costume, at least not one Louis recognised.
“How old are you, exactly?” Lestat asked bluntly, sounding genuinely curious.
“Lestat!” Louis hissed under his breath, but Daniel just laughed.
“I’m sixty five, if you must know.”
“Age is but a number.” Armand added nonchalantly, with a shrug.
Louis raises his eyebrows. “So, how did you two meet?”
At the end of the night, when all their guests have left and the house is in the kind of state Louis would prefer not to think about too much until daylight, he finds himself dancing round the living room with his husband to the theme from ‘The Addams Family’. Claudia is safely ensconced in his arms, and although she was laughing a few minutes ago, she’s so silent now he feels certain that she’s drifted off to sleep.
Lestat wraps his arms around the two of them, gently swaying to the music. “I think she’s asleep.” He says in a whisper.
Louis grins softly. “I know. She’s not a very good vampire. It’s not even ten o’clock yet.”
“I don’t know about that, mon cher .” Lestat says, delicately brushing his finger against her cheek. “I think she’s the best little vampire in the world.”
When he kisses Louis, he tastes of expensive wine and cheap fake blood.