Louis pulled a candle out of a drawer, along with a stiff, wooden match, then sat down on the sofa and placed his things on the end table. He set the candle in a small, brass holder, wedging the wax in tight. The match was struck against the side of the table, and he wiped away the mark before Lestat came down. The last thing he needed was another scolding about scratches on the furniture, what Lestat considered playing with fire, especially after he nearly set the pillows ablaze.

A smoky scent filled the room. Aside from the match's dim glow, the room was dark. Now he set the matchhead on the wick, and the flame transferred like magic. Louis barely held in his gasp as the match burned his finger tips and went out. He hated to lose the flame.

He turned his attention to the candle then, just staring at the fire. Light sparkled and shimmered in the darkness, almost dancing. He blew gently against the flame, marveling at how it shifted about. It looked like a miniature star.

"Chere, you're not going to...do anything with that, are you?" Lestat's voice echoed down from the top of the stairs.

Louis smiled up at him, golden light playing over his dark hair and green eyes. The sight nearly made Lestat swoon.

"Of course not, Lestat. Stop worrying."

Lestat vaulted over the railing, landing next to Louis, who sighed in disappointment as the sudden breeze put out the candle. Lestat rolled his eyes at his fledgling, then stared at the blackened wick, which burst back into flame. Louis gave a little, surprised cry of delight, which earned him a soft kiss on his cheek.

"I'll be home soon, Beautiful One," Lestat said with a sad tone in his voice. "Don't burn the house down."
Louis glanced sideways at Lestat, who had grinned to take the sting out of his tease. He smiled mischievously.

"I'll wait until you get home for that, love."

Lestat smiled indulgently, caressed his fledgling's hair once more, then left the house. Louis watched him disappear, then turned back to the candle's light.

The candle had nearly burnt to the end when Lestat finally returned. He gave Louis a very small, uncharacteristic smile, then disappeared to the table in the dining room. Louis could hear him rustling through a book and different papers.

But Lestat hates papers and books, Louis frowned. He'd rather let his lawyers do that.

Worried a little about his lover, Louis left the still-lit flame (it was nearly out anyway) and stepped closer to the rarely used dining room. His feet scratched the carpet, though, marring the silence of the house. There was the soft rustling of pages, a flurry of papers, and when Louis came in, Lestat was leaning out of the window, staring idly at the garden. Nothing was on the table now.

"Lestat," Louis started hesitantly, coming close, "are you all right?"

Lestat grinned, but that same, sickly sad stare hung in his eyes. "Of course, darling. Why wouldn't I be?"

Louis wrapped his arms around Lestat, resting his head on his maker's chest. As he rested, a strange scent wafted around him. The first was joined by a second, a third, then a fourth. His brow furrowed as he realized what they were. Colognes.

Lestat seemed to know that his fledgling had discovered something. He pulled away, separating himself by a few feet. Louis stared at him, more in concern than in reproach.

"You've slept with other men," he whispered.

Lestat's eyes widened artificially, as if he were surprised. "Louis! How could you think that? I was hungry, you know how close we have to get to the victim."

Louis nodded slowly. "But you wouldn't smell of several men if you just had one. And the cologne would not get on your hair, your clothes, your arms. Not so strongly. You've slept with others tonight, at least four."

Lestat glared coldly at him. "Are you calling me a liar?"

Louis took a deep breath. "You are not telling me the truth. What's wrong? You've never done this before."

Without any explanation, the brat turned and walked briskly by Louis, his head slightly lowered.

"Please, Lestat, you're hurt!" Louis suddenly cried, not understanding how he knew, the insight just came to him in a flash. "Let me help!"

"You want to help?" Lestat snarled. "Then leave me the fuck alone!" With that, he disappeared out of the room and up the stairs. Louis heard his bedroom door slam, and the shock wave knocked a mirror to the floor, breaking it. Then the house was quiet again.

Louis knew better than to follow him. The door would be locked and Lestat would not answer any questions. Instead he began his search of the dining room. They so rarely used that room that, even though it was great for hiding things away, there were few spots that could conceal anything. It wasn't very long before he found what he was looking for. He found the scrapbook on an empty chair that had been pushed under the table.

He brought it up and opened it, hoping he could find out what was disturbing Lestat. The first page held a few dollar bills, extremely worn and old, maybe decades old, stapled together under a date. He turned more and more pages, but he was just greeted by more of the same. Sometimes it was twenty dollars, sometimes it was fifty. The only difference was on one of the last pages, where a little, handwritten note had been placed with the bills.

Several more minutes passed before Louis figured out what the message meant.

"My Lestat...is prostituting himself," Louis whispered. An enraged tone slipped into his voice. "Those bastards are taking advantage of Lestat!"

The anger dropped away as quickly as it came.

But he's letting them use him. Why? It can't be for the money. He doesn't even spend what he gets. He can't like it. And there are safer, cleaner ways to satisfy that need than... he couldn't bring himself to even think the word again.

Louis stood up and started pacing the room, trying to come to an answer. The sun would drive him to sleep before he found the answer, but not before he had come up with a plan.

The next night when Louis woke, the house was empty, but he had expected that. He got up and called immediately for their chauffeur. The man was on call, so rarely did they need him, but at the price they paid, he didn't mind the odd hours. After half an hour, the limousine arrived.

Louis gave the chauffeur directions to merely cruise the darkest, most criminal neighborhoods, and within an hour, they came around the right street. Lestat stood on the corner across from them, standing separately from two other boys, wearing tight jeans, boots, and a thin shirt. Louis closed his eyes in pain, then told the driver to pull up in front of the small group.

Lestat gave a little smirk as the limousine came closer, wondering what this next rich businessman would look like. A slight breeze coursed over him, and his damp hair chilled him a little. He would hate cleaning his hair so many times in one night, but he couldn't risk keeping the smells of the 'clients' on him, not with his fledgling around. He couldn't bear the thought that Louis might suspect something. The limo door was opening, though, and he forced himself to drag his thoughts back to the impending pain.

When he saw who was sitting in front of him, he almost collapsed.

Lestat shut his eyes, begging God to make him disappear, that if he opened his eyes, Louis would be gone and some ugly stranger would be there instead. He wanted a trap door to open beneath him and swallow him up. A heavy weight pressed on him, as if he was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. Black spots swirled in front of his eyes as his vision went dim.

"Come inside," that familiar voice, terrible in its gentleness, called out to him. "Sit down."

No, no, no! Lestat mentally screamed, Not Louis, not like this! But his body did not obey his mind. His legs moved against his will, carrying him to the car and forcing him to take his place by Louis, as if he was just another john. His arms closed the door of their own volition, locking it. Once he was trapped, he could move again, but all he could do now was cover his face with his hands, wishing he could just vanish from the face of the earth. His eyes grew sore and his face burned in shame.

He was vaguely aware of his fledgling telling the driver to take them home, but he couldn't bring himself to utter a sound, save for his ragged breathing. Tears were welling up in his eyes, but he did his best to force them down. The limo stopped, and he knew he was being guided out of the car and into the house, but it was as if he was no longer in his body. He heard Louis tell the driver he could leave now, and then Lestat was sitting on the sofa, with his fledgling beside him. He lowered his head, trying to hide behind his hands.

Oh, God, just don't let him speak, Lestat prayed, I don't think I'll survive.

"Lestat?" Louis tried to look into his eyes. "Lestat, please, are you all right?"

"How on earth can you care about me?" the shattered whisper broke out of Lestat, who could no longer hold back his emotions. Tears fell out in a torrent, threatening to drown him. Louis took out a large handkerchief from his pocket and placed it in Lestat's hand. The blonde vampire immediately pressed the cloth to his eyes, muffling his sobs.

Louis pulled him closer, so that Lestat could lean against his body. Louis wanted to cry as well, but he had to be strong for his lover. Lestat's entire body was shaking. It was all he could do to hang onto the handkerchief. After decades of living with his lover, Louis knew exactly what Lestat was thinking--how can he care about a cheap whore like me?

A few minutes later Lestat finally calmed down, only because he had worn himself out. Louis held him even tighter, stroking his hair and face.

"Lestat? Chere, are you all right? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

Lestat sniffled a bit. "Why do you care?"

"Because I love you!" Louis insisted. "I care about your feelings. I want you to be happy, but chere, why did you do this?"

Lestat started to weep again, softly though, not as violently as before. "I don't know," he moaned. "I didn't want to, I couldn't stop myself..."

"You didn't want this," Louis said quietly, "but you did it anyway."

"I'm sorry," Lestat began to wail, "I didn't mean to...to..."

"Shh..." Louis whispered, trying to comfort him. "I need to know why you did this."

"No, please, no." Lestat didn't want to hear, didn't want his fledgling to know.

"Lestat..." Louis said quietly, "I won't hurt you. I won't belittle you. I still love you, even if you can't believe that. Please...why?"

"I have to," came the tiny whisper.

"Why?"

"Because."

Louis shook his head to himself. This wasn't going to work. He had to get Lestat to open up. "Chere, how long have you done this?"

"Since Paris."

"As a vampire?"

Lestat drew in a ragged breath. "As a mortal."

Louis gasped inaudibly. "Why?"

Lestat hiccuped through his tears. "You'll laugh at me."

Louis gently forced Lestat up, wiping away the tears with his own handkerchief. "No, Lestat. I will not laugh. I love you." He gave Lestat an almost intangibly soft kiss, calming him down as best he could. "Tell me."

Lestat stared mournfully into his fledgling's eyes. "You won't hate me?"

Louis shook his head.

"It...right after I met Nikki...he promised that we'd be happy in Paris...the night before my father had...had...and Nikki promised me I could get away, go away with him. I was scared, but he kissed me and...I fell in love. He said I could dance on a stage, and people would love me...I wanted to believe him." Lestat sniffled and brushed away his tears.

Louis put his arm up around Lestat's shoulders and smoothed his hair from his face. "What about the long conversation you wrote of?"

"Lies," Lestat whimpered. "All lies. I couldn't bear to let the whole world know the truth. I couldn't say how he used me. My father said I'd never be anything more than a piece of meat, and he was so right...I fulfilled every damn thing he said about me..."

"Hush..." Louis whispered. "It's all right. What about Nikki?"

"Nikki was a drunk. He spent all his money on wine, and whatever I brought home, he'd spend that, too. And one night, when the landlady demanded her rent, he told me to go out and not come back until I had the money. I was so scared...but I found a group of boys on the corner. I huddled there in the shadows for a long time, until a stranger came and told me to follow him into an alley. And afterwards, he gave me a few sous. I cried for a long time, but a little later, another man came. I had four men in that first night. Everything I made either went to the rent or Nikki's drinking. I could only eat when I worked, or else I went hungry. But even later on, I couldn't stop. I needed to go out. I became a cheap whore."

"My poor Lestat," Louis whispered. "No...you are not that. You had no choice, but the fear of death and starvation was so terrible, it indelibly impressed on you the idea that comfort only came with prostitution. And now that you do not have to degrade yourself, you feel strange. You don't know how to act, and you don't like that, so you retreat back into the abuse, because to you," he took a deep breath, "to you it feels normal."

Lestat looked up at Louis with blood shot eyes full of guilt and self-loathing. "You must think I'm a pathetic fool," he whispered shakily, "a sick child who can't do anything right."

Louis shook his head, amazed at how vulnerable his lover was right now. His maker had never dropped his shields so entirely before. One wrong word was all it would take to utterly devastate him.

"No, Lestat. I love you. You've just been forced through so much pain and misery that it's hard for you to feel decent anymore."

Lestat glanced at the carpet, still dabbing at his eyes with the handkerchief. "Why did you come for me?"

"I can't let you hurt yourself like that. I won't stand by while you suffer. I just can't stay and see you do that to yourself." He suddenly straightened, pushing Lestat back a few inches. A feeling of abandonment swept over Lestat, who mistook his fledgling's motion as an indication that he was leaving.

"Now," Louis started, "I know you may not like this, but it has to be done. I just won't watch you kill yourself slowly. Therefore, I've decided to move--"

"No!" Lestat screamed, interrupting him. He flung his arms around Louis as if to forcibly keep him there. "Louis, I know I'm a worthless fool, but please don't leave me! I need you, I love you. I'll give you everything I have, I'll be your slave, just please don't leave me..." his voice trailed off in a desperate groan. He slipped down in exhaustion, his arms now around Louis' waist and his head on his chest. "You're the only one...you love me, don't you?"

Louis was speechless for several seconds, shocked by Lestat's outburst. ~It's astonishing what it takes to make him admit he loves me,~ he thought.

He reached out and gripped Lestat's shoulders, pulling him into his arms. Lestat wept profusely, and this time when he finished, his entire body was weak from the exertion.

"Lestat?"

"Please, Louis..."

"I'm not leaving, darling," Louis rushed to tell him, afraid he had hurt him, "I'm moving my things into your room."

"You're moving...to my room?" Lestat asked incredulously.

Louis nodded. "Yes. You need someone with you at all times, not like a master, but as a friend. Someone who will keep you safe from harm and pull you out of your depressions. Someone who loves you, and someone you trust."

"I love you so much, Louis."

Louis smiled tenderly. Twice in one day! "Come on, chere, let's get you to bed." He cradled Lestat in his arms as if he were a child to be protected, then carried him upstairs and gently undressed him as he set him in the bed. Quickly he shed his own clothes before sliding beside his lover. Lestat eagerly fell into Louis' cool embrace, burying his face in his lover's hair.

"I hated it," he whispered. "I hated every minute of it. I felt so cheap and dirty."

"No more," Louis promised. "Never again. I'm so sorry, Lestat. Part of this is my fault. I never should have made you forgive your father, it just gave him even more power over you."

Lestat gave his fledgling a weak smile. "It's all right, chere. I have you. I don't care about anything else."

Louis gave Lestat an unnecessarily long kiss. When he finally drew back, Lestat grinned, the familiar, happy light back in his eyes.

"Why do I insist on abusing myself," Lestat laughed, "when I can just take advantage of you instead?"

Louis caressed Lestat's face, making him meet his gaze. "There you go again, darling, trying to hide the pain with a smile."

Lestat heaved a sigh, setting his head on his lover's shoulder. "You know me too well, Beautiful One. It's all I know how to do. It's why I like the stage. I can put on a mask and perform, and listen to the audience applaud."

"And prove that they love you."

Lestat nodded wordlessly. The room was quiet for several seconds.

"You're not going to do this again," Louis asked reluctantly, "are you?"

"No, no more 'street-walking', not as long as you're here."

Louis smiled. "You have no idea how much pain I felt when I saw you on that corner, letting them use you like that. I thought I was going to lose you." He gave a short laugh. "We're both so afraid of losing each other, but neither of us is really leaving."

Lestat just tightened his hold on Louis, who smiled indulgently. They lay like that for what seemed an hour, until a sad thought entered his mind.

"Mon amor," he whispered, "when you thought I was deserting you, you said that you were worthless. You said you'd be my slave if I'd just stay."

Silence.

"Lestat, did you really mean that? Do you really believe you're worthless?"

A crimson drop spilled down the blonde vampire's cheek. It was all the answer Louis needed.

"Lestat..." he sighed, rising up so he could stare into his eyes. "You're not worthless. You can't believe your father was right about you. You can't believe Nikki was right. You're so much better than they ever dreamed."

"They're not the only ones," Lestat sighed.

"Who else?"

"Akasha...Gretchen..." he closed his eyes in pain. "You."

Louis froze a moment, then forced himself to meet this challenge. "Akasha...was not the type to love anyone. She was too arrogant and never appreciated you, but she only wanted to kill you because you were right and she couldn't accept that. Gretchen simply was not ready, and you were not ready, not in a new body. Nothing could have stopped that."

He sighed. "As for me...Lestat, I didn't know you then. I was afraid for Claudia and myself. If I had known what you truly felt, if I had known who you really were, things would have been so different." He paused a moment. "But I did love you, Lestat. I still love you, and I will love your forever. Believe me when I say I won't ever leave you again."

At that point, Lestat wept again, mostly out of relief, though, and this time he cried himself to sleep in his lover's embrace.

When he woke up, Louis was still beside him, barely breathing. A small grin played on his lips as he smoothed over his fledgling's hair, marveling at how this beautiful creature could possibly love him. A long time later, Louis gave a tiny moan, signaling that he was now just in a mortal sleep, so Lestat gave him a fleeting kiss to wake him up.

Dazzling emerald eyes gazed up at him over a languid smile, noticing his lover's intense stare. "Do you like what you see?"

Lestat shook his head. "No, I love what I see. I could ask you the same question, though."

"How could I not love you?" Louis laughed. "You're so gorgeous, so strong and vulnerable at the same time. You're perfect."

He expected Lestat to give him another kiss, or at least a hug, but instead the brat got up to preen his hair in the mirror, making sure that every golden strand was in place. Louis rolled his eyes in barely restrained and disappointed irritation.

"Careful, Louis, you'll make me vain," Lestat grinned, pleased with the reflection.

"Too late for that, you peacock!" Louis shouted, tossing a pillow at him and mussing his hair up.

Lestat grabbed the feather pillow and threw it back at him, nailing him in the chest. Unbalanced, Louis fell back against the rest of the pillows, and when he managed to get the fluffy missile off, he found Lestat on top of him, pushing his shoulders back down into the soft surface. Before he could say anything, Lestat leaned down and stole a long kiss from him.

"Silly chere, it's not wise to insult a powerful vampire!"

"I know," he replied, pulling Lestat back down on him and rolling on top of him. Black hair mixed with gold as they came closer, until it was hard to tell where each began and ended.

"I have to be so careful with you," Lestat sighed, one hand on Louis' waist and the other wrapped around his back. "I could hurt you so easily."

"You could never hurt me," Louis said in between several kisses aimed at Lestat's face. "You love me too much."

"You know me too well," the other replied, rolling over and pinning his fledgling back on the bed. "Louis, do you ever get tired of being helpless under me?"

Louis smiled seductively. "I may be weaker, darling, but helpless?" He started laughing.

Lestat frowned in confusion. "What are you laughing about?"

Instead of telling his maker, though, Louis decided to show him. He reached up with his left hand, caressing Lestat's hair and tracing his fingertips along the edge of his jaw. Lestat's skin was hot to his cool touch, still filled with last night's kill. His right hand slid beneath the blanket, touching hidden places out of sight. Lestat gasped in surprise at his fledgling's sudden overtures.

"Ohhhh..." Lestat groaned, arching his back in tense pleasure. "Who are you and what have you done with my fledgling?"

"Hush, Lestat, don't talk," Louis smiled suggestively. "Lay back down and I might keep this up."

Lestat edged to the right and settled his head back on the pillow. Louis hovered over him, gently stealing kisses from his captivated lover. "See, mon amor, I'm not helpless. It's the other way around. You're completely at my control."

"I'm not complaining," Lestat sighed, not minding the abrupt role reversal. "In fact, why haven't you done this before?"

"I sometimes worry what you would do if I encouraged your advances," Louis answered. "It's a miracle I ever succeed in dragging you from the bed at all. If you knew what I am capable of, I might never get you off me."

"Well, I love this," Lestat laughed, "and maybe I won't let you drag me from the bed."

"You wanton!"

Lestat opened his mouth to say something, but instead he found Louis' lips on his, cutting off his words. They lay still for several moments, loving each other, Lestat thriving on his fledgling's aggressiveness, and Louis enjoying his maker's amorous surrender, even if he knew Lestat could climb back on top of him any time again.

Lestat, Marius' voice suddenly broke in, how does--oh no! Oh, hell, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-- The contact broke off.

Lestat started laughing as Marius retreated in embarrassment. Louis glanced questioningly at him.

"Oh, it's nothing, Beautiful One, Marius simply got an eyeful, that's all."

Louis smiled and sat up. "I suppose we'd better talk to him."

Lestat nodded, sighing in resignation, then concentrated. Yes, Marius?

Lestat started to laugh. Um, Marius, those might be a bit frayed by now.

He broke off and stared up into Louis' eyes, dazzled by their brilliance.

"So, what was the conversation about?" Louis asked innocently.

"A painting of the entire coven, in clothes we wore when we were mortal, in two weeks." Lestat jumped out of bed and made his way to the closet. "Come on, lover, get dressed! We have to find you something to wear!"

"We have two weeks," Louis sighed, laying back on the blankets.

Lestat threw a shirt on, then turned around and froze, staring at his lover's naked body spread out invitingly on the bed. "Louis...this isn't fair..." he moaned.

Louis turned his head toward him. "Come back to bed, Lestat. Come back to me..." he sighed. "We have plenty of time to shop. Right now," his fingers absent-mindedly twisted in his hair, "I have other things I want to do."

Lestat sat down on the edge of the bed, torn between shopping and another love-making bout, so Louis sat up and started unbuttoning his maker's shirt. The cloth fell to the floor, and Louis wrapped his arms around Lestat, pulling him back.

"I was so foolish," Lestat whispered.

"About what?" Louis asked cautiously, worried that they might have a replay of last night's conversation.

"I thought I was in charge here."

"You are," Louis said, somewhat amused. "Except in bed. Everywhere else but the bed."

It was the next night that Lestat managed to drag him to the most highly regarded tailor in New Orleans. Louis stood still as his measurements were carefully recorded by the old man's assistant, vaguely listening to Lestat's detailed descriptions of the garments he had in mind. He remained silent for the most part, only nodding or giving faint intonations if Lestat or the mortals happened to speak to him.

Oh, he just loves to treat me like some living doll, Louis sighed inwardly. I wonder how he'd react if I did the same to him?

Finally the tailors were finished with him, fussing between themselves about the fabrics and designs they would have to purchase and the time it would take to make it. Of course Lestat merely waved them away and gave them a down payment that would have paid for the entire suit. The amount gave the mortals the motivation to guarantee completion in a few days.

Louis expected the tailor to start taking his lover's sizes, but instead Lestat just grinned, took Louis by the arm and took him back onto the street.

"Isn't it a wonderful night, darling?" the brat said. "It must have rained during the day, the sky is so clear!"

Louis looked around himself. Either his detachment with the world had grown, or else the night seemed just like every other night, ordinary and routine.

Lestat hooked his arm around his fledgling's waist and started down the street at a faster pace. "Come on, the malls are still open, and--" he stopped so abruptly that Louis would have fallen forward if he had not had that arm around him to keep him steady.

He turned his gaze to what Lestat seemed to be staring at in a store window, then rolled his eyes. Another music box. If there was one thing Lestat loved, it was pretty little boxes with the dancers that twirled in continuous circles to monotonous music.

Louis frowned. He doesn't think I am like that, does he? A pretty plaything that repeats itself over and over?

"It's so beautiful," Lestat interrupted his thoughts. He glanced back at the sign over the door and smiled. "That's all this store sells, too! Let's go in."

And Louis was pulled inside before he could voice his opinion either way.

Lestat wandered around the aisles, a child in a toy shop, glancing at one item and then off to the next. Louis followed idly behind, trying not to become too entranced with anything on the shelves. Even the most boring box could catch him off his guard, with the light reflecting just so off of the metal and mirrors, and the swirling patterns of colors on every object threatened to paralyze him as he studied the paints.

Don't look too intently, he scolded himself, pulling his stare away from a particularly enchanting piece. Silly that something so simple in such a treasury could hold his attention so well. The small box was covered in a black lacquer with red flames dancing delicately over the top like roses, and when he opened the porcelain top to reveal the red velvet interior, Grieg's "Hall of the Mountain King" played softly. With a sad sigh he turned from it. He had no coin on him, and besides, Lestat would probably laugh at him for liking something so small and hardly noticeable.

He spent an indeterminate time roaming behind Lestat. The rest of the boxes were not as interesting, and he had just looked up after awhile to ask when they would leave when he noticed that Lestat was not really paying much attention to the boxes. Lestat just walked slowly around, giving the most cursory glances to the most exotic pieces. Louis intentionally bent over a box, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lestat studying him, watching for any sign of worry on his fledgling's face and then quickly looking back at the nearest music box.

Louis now understood that they were not in here because Lestat wanted a plaything. Lestat only wanted to keep Louis distracted, knowing full well the effect such pretty little trinkets had on him. Lestat was hiding something.

With a resolute breath, Louis walked over to Lestat, who seemed anxious now that his fledgling was coming near.

"Lestat, we need to talk," he whispered.

"And if we don't?" Lestat challenged stubbornly.

"Then I will hound you about it until you do," Louis said. "It is that simple."

"If only..." Lestat sighed, his shoulders dropping in surrender. "All right. But not here."

"No," Louis agreed. "The park a few blocks away."

Lestat let Louis lead him out of the store and into the darkness, walking slowly until they came to the dim lights of the park. Lestat shook his head at the stiff, rod iron bench, choosing instead to sit on the grass beside it. Louis let it go, anything to set Lestat more at ease, and sat beside him.

"All right, chere," Louis whispered, "why did you want to distract me tonight? Why didn't you let them start work on your clothes?"

"I couldn't," Lestat answered, laying back and staring at the stars. "I thought I would be able to do this when I was talking to Marius. He didn't even notice how my heart tightened when he mentioned 'period' clothing. But I don't think I can do it now, I really don't. The whole idea gives me a rotten feeling inside."

"You don't want to dress as you did when you were mortal?" Louis asked.

Lestat shook his head. Louis was about to ask why, then bit the question off. The explanation was obvious. Bad, bad memories. Ghosts that Lestat didn't want to think about.

Louis lay down and snuggled up against his lover. "Well, you don't have to wear exactly what you did then. There were different fashions, no one would know."

Lestat shook his head. "All such ugly styles. I never looked very good in them, anyway." He sighed irately. "I don't want to wear the clothes I commonly wore, and I don't want to wear what I did on the stage."

"You mean you don't want to be Monsieur Lioncourt or Lelio again," Louis nodded.

"I suppose that is it."

"A shame we can't dress you up as Monsieur Rockstar," Louis said with a perfectly straight face.

Lestat gave him a look that was half amusement, half amazement, but then Louis started to laugh softly, and he smiled.

"Oh, you just love to tease me," he grinned, kissing the top of his fledgling's head. Then he looked back up at the stars. "Louis, what am I going to do? We have a painting to go to and I have absolutely nothing to wear."

"You could wear what you did when you were a human again."

"Absolutely not."

Louis smiled. "There is another option."

"Yes?"

"You could wear the simplest clothing of your era, merely the shirt and pants, and..." he paused, hoping Lestat wouldn't hate this idea, "and a cloak made of wolf hides."

Lestat was silent for several seconds. "Dress as the wolfkiller?"

"In a way, that was your most individualistic moment," Louis continued. "The one instance where you made a choice that was not influenced by anyone else."

"Except a desire to live," Lestat argued sarcastically.

"Yes," Louis agreed. "You could have chosen to give up."

"No one would have done that."

"I might have, if I had been in your position."

"In New Orleans? How would that particular opportunity arise?" Lestat started to laugh. "Attacked by wild dogs in the street?"

"Don't be silly."

It was no use. Lestat was on his way to a real laughing fit. "You're right. This is Louisiana, after all. A swarm of rabid alligators, then, and you would have had the most magnificent skin boots."

"Lestat..."

"Perhaps you could have had the teeth made into a necklace," Lestat giggled. "Oh, I can just imagine it now. Green boots are a perfect accessory for green eyes."

Louis had to admit it was an amusing image, but he had a point he still had to make. "I'm serious, Lestat. Personally, I think you'd look gorgeous in a fur cloak."

"And where would I get wolf fur in this day and age?" Lestat asked, only partly sarcastic. "They're not the most popular of furs now."

"Just have an imitation made," Louis said.

"I'd look ridiculous."

"Marius will be wearing a toga, Khayman will be wearing an Egyptian skirt and heaven alone knows what Armand will wear. Lestat, you will look fine." Louis started to giggle. "And for once, you will not be the most outrageous one there."

Lestat smiled. "And, in being so modest, I will be the most noticeable."

Louis rolled his eyes. "You are the model of audacity."

"And you love it!" Lestat leaned over Louis, holding him down with one hand spread on his chest. "Admit it!"

"Only a little," Louis teased, smiling seductively without meaning to.

Lestat suddenly bent down and stole a long kiss from him, and when he rose back up a half a minute later, Louis was breathless.

"Tell me you only loved that a little," Lestat said, this time teasing his fledgling.

"I'm not sure," Louis laughed, "I'd have to try it again."

"How did that line go?" Lestat mused a moment. "Oh, yes. 'Trespass sweetly urged'."

"Something like that," Louis managed to get out before being silenced by another kiss. He reached up to Lestat when he could breathe again.

"So when are you going to have that cloak and suit made?"

"We'll go in an hour or two," his maker sighed.

"Why the delay?"

"Oh, Louis, we have plenty of time to shop. I have others things I want to do, mostly to you, sweet, and those need to be done right now."

"In a public park?" Louis asked, only partly abashed. "Lestat, someone might see."

"All the more exciting! Besides, it's late, no one will come around." He sighed sadly. "Maybe we could make some noise--"

"You brat! Don't you--" Louis' interruption was cut off by a kiss, however, and neither of them said much after that, falling into blissful silence.

It was only an hour or two before dawn when they finally returned home, Louis caught in a light mortal sleep and Lestat carrying him back in his arms. He gazed lovingly at his dozing darling, admiring the perfection in his face and hair. He had simply worn his lover out, exhausting him with the trips back and forth to all the shops.

"Let's get you upstairs," he whispered, taking him up to his bed. The only reply was a sleepy, incoherent mumble. With his mind, he pulled the sheets back, then sat Louis up on the edge of the mattress so he could remove the coat and shirt. Then he lay him down and slipped off both his boots and the loose pants. Louis sighed in relief as he lay down on the soft pillows, but when Lestat drew the blankets over him, he looked up in concern.

"You aren't going to join me?"

"Let me undress first, silly," Lestat laughed, shedding his clothes and climbing in next to him. He sat up against the pillows, gathering his fledgling up. The sheets were still cool, since Louis could never warm them up. "Who'd have thought that my Gentle One would be such a sensual creature?"

Louis rolled his eyes. "I'm not a wanton, Lestat. Just because I want you in bed doesn't mean I want to do anything like that. Didn't you get enough of that in the park?"

"From you, chere, I can never get enough."

Louis curled up in Lestat's arms, nuzzling at his throat but not biting. Never biting.

"I enjoyed tonight," he whispered. "Even being treated like a doll wasn't so terrible."

"A porcelain doll," Lestat smiled. "You're so delicate. I'm always afraid that I might hurt you without knowing."

"Never. You always take such good care of me." He yawned, close to his death sleep.

"I suppose I do now," Lestat shrugged.

Louis reached his hand up to the blonde vampire's face. "Don't waste time feeling bad about the past, Lestat. Neither of us were thinking straight. All we can give each other is the future."

"Oh, that reminds me," Lestat smiled, reaching into the coat he'd tossed on the back of the chair. He drew something wrapped in paper out, then handed it to Louis, who tore the blue tissue paper gently away from the prize inside. With a delighted laugh he held up the music box he had been so enamored of in the store.

"Lestat..." he sighed, reaching up to kiss him. "Thank you. How did you know?"

"I saw you staring at it for five full minutes," Lestat grinned. "You have exquisite taste, chere."

"Well, I chose you, didn't I?" Louis smiled, setting the music box on the table by his side of the bed so it wouldn't be crushed.

A moment later he found himself caught up in a furious embrace which he eagerly returned. "Lestat, are you all right?" he said breathlessly.

"You'll never know how much I love you, Beautiful One," Lestat cried in one intense whisper. "I practically worship you."

"And you'll probably never accept the fact that I love you just as much, if not more," Louis insisted. "But I do."

"Just make sure you always tell me that," the brat begged. "I don't ever want to forget."

"You won't. I'll see to that." Louis pulled the blankets up over their shoulders and slid further into his lover's arms. "Go to sleep now, beloved. It's been a rather long night for you, too."

Lestat nodded wordlessly, sealing up the windows and doors with his mind before allowing himself to succumb to the slumber Louis had already submitted to. This time, for the first time he could remember in years, he had pleasant dreams instead of the same cruel nightmares.

Twelve days later, Louis lay comfortably cradled in Lestat's arms several hundred feet up in the air, his head resting on his maker's chest. He gave a lethargic look up into Lestat's eyes, icy blue in the dark.

"Are you sure our outfits will arrive in time?" he asked, concern riding in his voice.

Lestat smiled down at him. "Don't worry, chere. That's what FedEx is for. When it absolutely has to be there."

Louis nestled back against him, trying to keep his mind off of the ground hurtling beneath him. "Why must we always travel this way? Why not by airplane?"

Lestat sighed and shook his head to himself. "My poor, little Louis. I know you hate heights, but planes are so loud and there are so many mortals inside, talking endlessly about themselves."

Louis smiled. "And how would that be any different than living with you?"

"Oh, aren't you the comedian tonight?" Lestat laughed. He loosened his grip just enough to unnerve Louis, who reached up and wrapped his arms around Lestat, scared that he was going to fall off. Then he glared at Lestat, knowing he just wanted to feel his fledgling latch onto him.

"You deserve your title," he muttered, relaxing back.

"Just one question," Lestat grinned, "if I am the Brat Prince, then who is the Brat King?"

"Hard to believe anyone could surpass you."

"I don't know, perhaps a former slave owner, used to having servants do all the menial work for him? Someone who's only real work was done behind a small stack of papers, a sweet wanton who expects to be kept in perpetual comfort by his lover and lectures his poor darling on how much money he wastes, and then buys an ancient first edition of The Divine Comedy for an obscene amount of money. Someone who teases his lover unmercifully, and then accuses him of being audacious."

Louis cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so? Well, if I'm going to be called a brat, then I'm at least going to enjoy earning it." He undid the buttons on Lestat's shirt, then slid his hand beneath the cloth and toyed with his maker's body.

Lestat gave an ecstatic moan and they suddenly plummeted down. Louis tensed, gripping Lestat as hard as he could and burying his face in the open shirt.

"Don't drop me!" he yelled out.

Lestat finally stopped their fall, slowly rising back up to their previous height. He hugged Louis closer to him, reassuring him with a gentle kiss.

"It's all right, ma petit cherie," he whispered mischievously, "I'll keep you safe from yourself."

"Brat," Louis mumbled.

"The brat you love," Lestat laughed, whirling about in the air like a top and frightening Louis.

"Enough, enough! I yield, no more brat comments!"

"Is that all I get from your surrender?"

"What else do you want? I'm almost afraid to ask."

"How about one night with you, anything I want to do to you, no arguments?"

"Within reason, Lestat," Louis said, with a tone that was not to be argued with.

"Absolutely, chere."

"I mean it."

"Of course. Do you doubt me?"

Louis let the question slide. "How much longer until we arrive?"

"Probably just another hour or so."

"Mind if I sleep?"

"Not at all. Mind if I do?"

Louis just sighed and dozed in Lestat's arms. For the rest of the flight, they traveled to the Midnight Island in silence.

Part 2