have you no idea that you're in deep?

by Anonymous

Summary:

Sam and Jacob wake up in the VC universe with no recollection of how they got there. Will they play Louis and Lestat convincingly enough to get back home? Or do they have to realize something else first before the universe lets them go back to their old lives?

Notes:

Originally I had planned to finish it before I post it but I got too impatient and excited so here's the first chapter! This idea has been on my mind for a hot minute and I finally made it into a fic :)

RPF is fiction, and this is extra fictional because of the added fantasy/alternate universe element :)) Hope you enjoy!!

Title from Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Chapter 1: The Deep End

“Sam!” 

Jacob’s voice pulls Sam out of his sleep and into reality, but he doesn’t open his eyes just yet, enjoying the warmth and the comfort of being cozied up under the blanket, exhausted from whatever happened last night. But then Jacob grabs his shoulder and shakes him. 

“Sam!” 

Sam groans. Not at Jacob – he could never be upset with Jacob, no matter what he did – but at the fact that the more his hazy brain wakes up, the more he notices his pounding headache. That’s what you get for drinking, he thinks to himself. But then, he’s not much of a drinker. Whatever was in that drink last night really got him good.  

He opens one eye, the light in the room too bright to open both. But when he sees the concerned, no, more like terrified look on Jacob’s face, he sits straight up.  

“What’s wrong?” He puts his hand on Jacob’s arm, an attempt at a soothing gesture, but Jacob ignores it. He takes a deep breath, a little less terrified now that Sam is awake.  

“Don’t freak out.” 

He blinks. “Okay?” His gaze wanders around the room – a hotel suite, the bedroom door open to reveal a lavish living room with marbled floors, fluffy white sofas around a glass coffee table and a grand piano in the back. His heart starts pounding hard in his chest as his still sleepy brain catches up with the situation. He’s never seen this place before. “Where are we?” 

Jacob hesitates. “I don’t know.” 

Sam lets out a nervous chuckle, more so an automated reaction to keep himself from fully freaking out. 

“What do you mean?” 

Another moment of hesitation until finally he sighs and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I woke up around ten minutes ago. Here.” He gestures around the room. “It’s six PM, and according to my phone, we’re in San Francisco. And I feel like absolute death.” 

Sam’s heart drops before his brain even processes the words. “San Francisco? Are you fucking with me?” 

It’s a desperate attempt to hold onto denial, but he can see it in his eyes that he’s serious. Defeated, Sam lets out a deep sigh. 

“Fuck.” 

“Fuck,” Jacob agrees. 

It’s impossible. Sam tries to think, tries to remember what happened after they went to the bar last night. The bar in New York City. But his memory only comes back in broken fragments and the pounding headache grows. He feels nauseous suddenly, struggles to get out of bed to find the bathroom but before he can untangle his limbs from under the duvet he feels better again. Running his hand through his hair he sighs, his gaze defeated when he looks at Jacob.  

“I don’t remember either,” Jacob helps, one hand on Sam’s in comfort. “Last thing I know we were drinking at the bar. Do you think…” He trails off, and Sam too is unable to finish the thought, but he knows exactly what he’s trying to ask. It was the first thing on his mind, too. 

“God, I hope not.” 

If they’d been drugged and abducted, it certainly would’ve taken them more than what, fourteen-ish hours to get from one coast to the other. They obviously couldn’t have flown here while unconscious. 

“But we weren’t even drinking that much,” Sam continues, memory fragments slowly piecing themselves together like lost puzzle pieces. Sam getting drinks for the both of them at the bar. Sam handing Jacob his drink. A while later, Sam and Jacob, half passed out in a corner booth, not from the alcohol but from the exhaustion of socializing and staying up longer than was necessary. He looks at Jacob again. A lump forms in his throat that he tries to ignore as his eyes flood with tears but he doesn’t let them fall. His mind jumps from one idea to another, about what could’ve happened, about how to get back. They’re panicked thoughts, things that if he thinks about them for a split second longer stop making sense. He squeezes Jacob’s hand tighter. “What are we gonna do?” he whispers. 

“We need to get back,” Jacob says. “We can ask at the reception. Just tell them we don’t remember how we got here. It’s humiliating but I want to know. Maybe there was someone else with us.” 

Sam nods even though he doesn’t love the idea of humiliating himself in front of the reception staff. He’ll just have to bite the bullet.  

“What’s the last thing you remember?” he tries. Maybe Jacob remembers a little more.  

“We were drinking. We had two cocktails, we were sharing them. We were hiding away from the others in a booth at the very back of the bar, and then…” Jacob stops to think for a moment. “I think you wanted to leave?” 

“Oh!” Suddenly, another memory. “Yeah. I remember that. But we didn’t go home, we just went outside.” It’s coming back more clearly now. They went out for a smoke. Shared a cigarette. Joked about how much fun it would be to be vampires in real life.  

 

* 

 

“Who would you be?” Sam asked, exhaling a puff of smoke, his lips immediately curving back up into that adoring smile he always gave Jacob. Jacob was standing across from him, close enough so he could feel his body heat emanating through his many layers of clothes. It was a cold night, even for late October.  

“Oh, easy,” Jacob said, taking the cigarette and bringing it to his lips. Sam watched, a little more mesmerized than he should, as he inhaled, the tip lighting up orange before he took it between his fingers and breathed out the smoke. He stubbed it out on the trashcan next to him. “I’d be Louis. I already kind of am.” 

“Yeah.” Sam didn’t notice his eyes were still on Jacob’s mouth. 

“I love Louis,” he continued. “He’s the most vampire of them all. We all have our dark moments that we don’t want to admit to. Thoughts, feelings. And then, you know. The whole queer aspect.” 

Sam nodded.  

“I’ve always felt a lot of shame surrounding that, so I get him. Didn’t come out until I was twenty-one.” 

Sam could relate way more than he would’ve liked to admit. He, too, had had a hard time accepting his bisexuality, but reading the Vampire Chronicles at fourteen, seeing Lestat just be himself and be it loud and proud healed something inside him. Still, it took him moving to the other side of the world to allow himself to have his first queer experiences. He was glad he could be so open and vulnerable with Jacob. He’d never had that in his life. 

“What about you?” 

“Yeah, same,” he said, nodding. “I’d be Lestat. Live with him already. I would like to be more like him. He’s so confident. I can’t help but wish I was a little more like that.” 

Jacob chuckled and Sam watched him, that loving smile still on his lips. “What?” 

“Would we be together in this alternate universe?” 

Sam scoffed playfully and laughed. “Of course. Louis and Lestat would be together in every universe. I’d be head over heels in love with you and you would be with me, but you’d never admit it.” 

“Oh, you wish!” Jacob laughed. “But you’re right. Louis and Lestat would always find each other. They’re home to each other. Kind of like we are, just… yeah.” 

Sam looked down and nodded. They were also home to each other, just not… like that. 

 

* 

 

He tells him what he remembers, but his memory cuts off after the smoke break. Even at that point, he doesn’t recall them being particularly drunk, just slightly tipsy, slightly more open to being affectionate towards each other. They’re always affectionate, but a few drinks have the potential to bring out a little more than usual. Something must’ve happened afterwards to warrant one of the worst hangovers he’s ever had. 

“Do you remember anything after that?” 

Jacob contemplates, but eventually shakes his head. “No. Nothing.” 

And Sam, too, draws a blank.  

Jacob sighs, then takes a deep breath. “At least we’re together. I’m freaking the fuck out but it would be so much worse without you.” 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees, trying not to think about the warmth that spreads in his chest at that. The world does seem slightly less terrifying with Jacob around. “We’ll figure it out. For now, let’s just see if we can find a flight back to New York? That way we can maybe get there before tomorrow.” 

Jacob nods, some of the tension washing away from his face. “Okay, yeah. Sounds like a plan. You look up the flights and I’ll call Rolin in the meantime. Let him know we’re –” He looks around the room, sighing in defeat. “Here.” 

While the flight page loads, Sam watches Jacob scroll through his contacts and hold his phone to his ear. But as the seconds pass, the little glint of hope in his eyes fades. He hangs up. 

“It says the number doesn’t exist. He literally texted me yesterday, how is that possible?” 

“Huh? That’s weird.” But just as Sam is going through his own list of contacts, there’s a knock on the door. They shoot each other a glance and then they’re both tiptoeing to the front door, Sam right behind Jacob. Only then does he notice he’s still wearing last night’s clothes. What the hell happened?  

Sam is prepared for anything – from room service, to Rolin jumping out from behind a corner yelling “Gotcha!”, but he’s not prepared for the sheer relief he feels when he sees Eric and Assad standing there in the hallway, fully dressed in their character costumes including lenses, looking at them like they’d just witnessed a scandal. Of course – there are rumors about them, and now they apparently spent a night in the same hotel room. But the explanations can wait.  

“Oh my god, you guys are also here? What the fuck happened?” 

Eric laughs, his tone half-mocking. “What, other than you guys being late for the show?” He looked at Sam. “And what are you wearing?” 

Sam glances down at himself. He’s wearing a baggy, washed-out shirt and straight cut jeans. A pretty normal outfit in his opinion. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“You look like you’ve just come out of the shack,” Assad says, only giving him a once-over and focusing back on Jacob. He frowns, tilting his head slightly. “What’s happened with your eyes?” 

Jacob looks taken aback but chuckles. “What?” 

“They’re brown.” 

“Yeah… They’ve always been brown…” Sam offers, completely confused. But then it hits him – the costumes, the attitude. Everything suddenly makes sense. “Oh, you’re method acting.” He turns to Jacob like he didn’t hear him “They’re method acting.” But why? They finished filming season three half a year ago.  

Jacob looks at Sam like he’s lost his mind, then looks back at Eric and Assad. “How are you not freaking out about being here? Do you know how we got here?” 

“Your boyfriend’s tour bus.” Eric nods in Sam’s direction. Great. Still not dropping the act. “Why do you suddenly sound like you’re from London? But anyway, are you coming or what? The fans are waiting.” 

Sam looks at Jacob, mouths a confused what, but realizes that going with them is their only option.  

“Uh… sure,” Jacob says, hesitant. “Would you give us two minutes?” 

Before they can answer, he slams the door shut.  

“What the fuck?!” he whisper-shouts. “What’s going on? Why are they method acting?” 

“A prank maybe?” Sam tries but realizes the moment he says it how ridiculous it sounds. But on the other hand, waking up on the other side of the country with zero recollection of how they got there is crazier than any other theory. 

“Okay,” Jacob begins, grabbing Sam by his arms to steady himself. “This is gonna sound insane, but bear with me. What if…” He trails off, his eyes searching the room for something.  

“What if?” 

He focuses back on Sam. “What if… No, this is stupid.” 

“What is it?” he urges. “If you have a theory, tell me. Can’t be more insane than this entire situation. I’ll believe anything at this point.” 

“We were talking about how we wanted to be vampires. What if… We’re actually Louis and Lestat?” 

Sam’s first instinct is to huff out a laugh, but it quickly dawns on him that this is so far the most sensible theory they’ve had. He doesn’t know if he believes in parallel universes, not to mention ones with supernatural beings, but at this point, he wouldn’t completely rule out the possibility.  

“We feel sick, like they do in the books when they get turned,” Jacob continues. “We don’t remember shit because –” 

“We fell into a parallel universe,” Sam concludes. Jacob nods.  

“Which also means…” He glances at the door and whispers the rest. “Those two are actually Daniel and Armand. Those are fucking vampires.” 

“But we’re not Louis and Lestat,” Sam ponders out loud. “We remember our own lives. We’re still us, but they think we’re them.” 

“Because we look like them.” 

Suddenly, it all makes sense. The dig at his clothes – Lestat would in fact never wear anything even remotely close to what Sam has in his own personal wardrobe. And Jacob’s eyes and accent – two things separating him from the character he plays on screen. They weren’t method acting. Fuck, they’re actually real.  

“Okay.” Jacob lets out a shaky exhale. “We’ve been playing these characters for three seasons now, we know them inside out. We’re gonna have to play along. Give them no reason to doubt us.” 

“I mean if we’re vampires now, they won’t just kill us.” 

“Wouldn’t count on that. I don’t wanna know what Armand would do to imposters. And I certainly don’t wanna find out.” 

And that is a fair point.   

“So we just pretend we’re Louis and Lestat for the rest of our lives?” 

“No.” Jacob shakes his head. “There’s probably a reason we got here. We just have to figure out what it is. That’s what always happens in films, that’s how they get back.” 

Sam draws in a shaky breath and nods.  

“Hey…” Jacob rubs his arm soothingly, then engulfs him in a tight embrace, and Sam almost falls apart. “We’re together, yeah? We’re getting through this together.” 

“Okay,” Sam chokes as they separate again. “Together.” 

“You’ll be a great Lestat, love. Come on. Don’t wanna make them wait for too long.” 

When Sam nods again, Jacob opens the door. Daniel and Armand are still standing there, waiting for them, their faces bordering on impatient. It didn’t occur to him before, but he hopes they didn’t overhear any part of that conversation, since they’re vampires. He doesn’t really know how sensitive their hearing is exactly. 

Sam puts his arm around Jacob, holding his waist. That’s a good couple’s pose, right? He feels like this is something Lestat would do.  

Jacob lets himself be guided down the long hallway and into the elevator, all while clinging onto the back of Sam’s shirt with his fingers. Sam can tell the grip makes him feel a little safer, and it has the added bonus of them actually looking like a couple. Sam isn’t sure at what point in their story they are – there’s a show, so that could mean any point covered in season three and beyond. But Daniel and Armand don’t seem to give them any more shocked glances, so he figures Louis and Lestat are at least back together. This should be easy enough, right? Play Jacob’s – Louis’ – lover, and then when they’re alone, they can figure things out. For now, he just has to act.  

“Final show,” Daniel mentions. “Are you excited?” 

Sam feels a jolt of anxiety rush through his body but he keeps up his façade. He knows all the lyrics, after months of practicing with his vocal coach and long hours in the recording booth, then followed by months of actually performing on stage, so there really isn’t any reason for him to be nervous. But still, the thought of standing on stage, with actual people who aren’t paid extras looking up at him, wanting to see The Vampire Lestat, fills him with absolute, crippling dread.  

Instead of answering, he shoots him a look that he hopes says it all, something akin to a mix between of course and why are you talking to me right now. If he wants to be a believable Lestat, it’s safer to be too bratty than not bratty enough.  

Lestat, post the events in season three, is… classic Lestat. There’s no other way to put it. An unfiltered, heart-on-his-sleeve kind of guy with regular emotional outbursts of varying intensity. But he’s also softer, especially towards Louis. He knows what it’s like to lose him for almost a century, and he’d rather let wolves rip his body to shreds than go through it again. He recognizes his wrongdoings, has lived for over eighty-five years with the knowledge that he hurt Louis in unforgiveable ways. There is no way on earth he could hurt him again. Which is good – Sam would never hurt Jacob either, not even if his life depended on it.  

He’s glad they’re meant to be a couple. Not in the sense that he desperately wants to pose as Jacob’s partner, no, of course that’s not the case. But it gives him an excuse to hold on to him in moments like these when he feels like he’s going insane.  

Without exchanging any more words, Daniel and Armand lead the way through the lobby. Sam isn’t used to so many people eyeing him if he’s not at an event, and he suddenly feels incredibly self-conscious as the chatter dies down and everyone follows him with their gaze. Whispers about the Vampire Lestat float through the air, and he realizes just then and there that he wouldn’t be able to pick those voices up as a human. A woman leans over to her sister sitting across from her, whispering, “Oh my god, that’s him!”. The voice carries through the entire lobby straight to Sam, covering a distance of about 70 feet. If there was any doubt before, it’s gone now. He tightens his grip on Jacob’s waist. They exchange a brief glance and it’s clear they’re both thinking the same thing.  

The car is waiting right in front of the hotel with two security guards standing by the doors.  

Sam gets in first. No – he doesn’t get in, he is shoved into the backseat by an impatient Daniel mumbling something about the flock coming any minute. Thankfully, Jacob climbs in next, and then Daniel. Armand takes the front seat. 

“This is why we change hotels every night,” Daniel says when the car starts moving. “Did you forget about what happened in New York?” 

Sam nods, his expression contained with a hint of annoyance. “Of course I didn’t.” 

He’s not sure he wants to know what happened in New York, but it can’t have been good. From context clues, he gathers that it was probably something along the lines of fans figuring out his location and flocking the place. He hopes they’ve upped security measures since then before he remembers he’s immortal now – a vampire of all species, someone who drinks blood and cannot be killed no matter how hard you try. A wave of excitement hits him as the realization sinks in; he read the Anne Rice books at fourteen, fell in love with the universe and dreamed of being Lestat. Of course, those dreams were like any fourteen-year-old’s dreams – wishful thinking, an idealized future in which he would be a successful actor, completely unpalpable to anyone with semi-realistic expectations. But then, he got cast as Lestat. 

And now he is Lestat. With real fangs and real vampiric blood flowing through his veins and a perfect Louis by his side. Well, almost perfect. He’s not his real lover.  

At fourteen, the story of Louis and Lestat gave him hope that one day, he too would find his Louis – someone he loves and who loves him in return despite their darkest moments. For the first time in his life, he saw someone be proud of who they were, for things that Sam at that point knew about himself but shoved away in a dark corner of his closet to never see the light of day. Lestat demanded to be looked at, to be seen for everything that he was. Deep down, Sam wanted that too, but he’d never been brave enough to ask for it. 

In Jacob, he’s found the closest thing he dares to believe he’d ever get to Louis: a soulmate, if those even exist.  

One that’s married with kids, so anything beyond a deep and fulfilling friendship with occasional lingering touches and long shared glances has always been strictly out of the question. 

Jacob’s light squeeze of his knee draws him back to reality. He looks over, forcing a small smile to let him know he’s okay. As okay as one can be in this situation, anyway.  

The shaking of the car doesn’t help his nausea at all and he feels the heat flashes all over him, cold sweat forming on his forehead. He’s just about to roll down the window for some fresh air in hopes that would keep him from puking when he notices the dryness in his mouth. Briefly, he tries to think back to when he had water last but his head starts throbbing, not allowing him to remember. The feeling gets worse. He’s parched. 

And then it dawns on him. He doesn’t want water. What he’s feeling, that dryness, that almost uncontrollable craving, it’s not thirst. Not for water, at least.  

“I gotta say,” Daniel suddenly begins, distracting him from his crisis. “I’m glad to see you’re still in love. Armand and I were actually surprised at how long it’s lasting this time around.” 

“Give them until the end of the concert,” Armand interjects from the front seat without turning around. “They’ll be at each other’s throats again. It’s just the calm before the storm.” 

Jacob ignores them, and before Sam can argue that he will not be at Jacob’s throat by the end of the night, he stops himself. He shoots Armand a death stare, then focuses it on Daniel when it has no effect. He’ll get better at improvising. He’s playing it safe for now. Instead of giving them the reaction that they want, he rests his hand on Jacob’s to compose himself. Again, the reality of the situation hits him at full force, and this time he hurries to roll down the window and throws up onto the street. 

Chapter 2: Brat

Notes:

Rockstar Sam? 👀 I do feel sorry for him that's probably his literal nightmare rn. Hope you enjoy this chapter! <3

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jacob whispers, his eyes darting around the dressing room in panic. They’re alone, the door’s locked, but it still feels like someone’s watching them. Sam is all too aware of the fact that if he can hear Armand and Daniel flirting in the hallway, then they can also hear what they’re saying.  

“Yeah,” Sam lies, forcing a smile, but Jacob can see right through him. There’s never a point in pretending when they’re alone. 

“You threw up three times tonight. Just cancel the thing. We’ll tell them it’s a medical emergency. You don’t have to do this.” 

Sam’s eyes drift towards the door, and when he focuses he can hear the crowd screaming for the Vampire Lestat. Even though they’re not asking for him, he feels responsible. He doesn’t want to let them down. And then there’s the whole Daniel and Armand problem. 

“Maybe I’d cancel if it was just the show. But –” He nods towards the door again, not wanting to say their names out loud. “That’s not an excuse for them,” he whispers, almost mouths to make sure they don’t hear it. It’s a shame Louis and Lestat are exempt from communicating telepathically with each other. It would be a great help right now. “They’ll know something’s up. Can’t risk it.” 

“Do you want me to do this with you?” Jacob suddenly offers. Sam knows how much Raleigh Ritchie means to him and how he wants to keep it separate from the show. It warms his heart to know he would do this for him, but he shakes his head. 

“It’s fine, Jacob. I can do this. I did it for months. I’ll just. Act.” He starts to feel sick again, so he takes a deep breath through his nose and tries to compose himself, lets himself sink into the cushions of the green couch. Jacob puts a hand on his shoulder before he flops down next to him.  

“I’ll be right there in the VIP tent, yeah?” Jacob puts his head on his shoulder, and Sam stops breathing for a second before he catches himself and relaxes under his touch. God, how he wishes he could just go on stage with Jacob. “If you need me, I want you to look at me and blink three times, okay? I’ll come out with you.” 

Sam releases a deep breath or relief even though he’s determined not to take him up on the offer. “Thank you.” There’s a moment of silence before Sam huffs out a laugh. It’s better to laugh than to cry. “Fucking hell. What happened?” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jacob promises, but Sam can tell his confidence is just a facade. He’s as worried as Sam is. “We’ll talk about it later, yeah? Try some things, see if anything works. Okay? But let’s just remember that we have each other. We’ll make it out of here together, okay?” 

“Okay.” Sam nods. There really isn’t much else they could do but brainstorm some theories, try out different things. He shifts, finally pulling himself up. The sooner he gets out there the sooner they can go back to the hotel. “Come on. Let’s get this nightmare over with.” 

* 

Sam hates conventions. He likes to interact with fans one-on-one, but if there are hundreds of them screaming at the same time wanting his attention, it gets overwhelming, and as an introvert, his energy is very limited. During them, Sam often grabs Jacob by his hand and pulls him to one of the backrooms for a quick smoke break, to take a breather before heading back out. Well, an arena with 20,000 people and the spotlight on just him alone is infinitely worse than any convention he’s ever been to. 

He takes a deep breath and straightens his posture before looking over at Jacob one last time. Jacob gives him an encouraging smile and with that, he is dragged on stage by an impatient Tough Cookie, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest at the sight of the crowd, all eyes on him.  

They scream once they see him, and the nausea rises up again. He’s Lestat, he keeps telling himself. I’m Lestat. They love me. I’ve done this a million times before. Just once more to get out of here.  

The setlist is taped to the floor, thankfully, and as he scans it he lets out a small breath of relief at the realization that Long Face is the first song. It’s the song he’s most familiar with – it was the first song Daniel Hart wrote for him, the first one they recorded a year prior to all the other songs, then re-recorded again later on with some minor readjustments. He knows the lyrics inside out, so if he had to pick a song to ease him into this ordeal, it would be this one.  

The metronome starts in his earpiece, the sound on top of his anxiety drowning out the crowd. The band starts playing. And then, he goes into autopilot.  

Muscle memory guides him through the songs, has him strutting around the stage and putting on the show of a lifetime. Despite his persistent nausea he manages a few of Lestat’s trademark hair flips and even takes off his sheer glittery shirt midway through the concert. This isn’t about him feeling comfortable. This is about being as convincing as possible in order to survive. 

A couple of times, his eyes wander over to Jacob, and every time they do he gives him a big smile and nods in encouragement. God. He must be as terrified as Sam about the whole situation and yet he’s here in the VIP tent being the supportive friend he has always been. What did he do to deserve him? 

The lights dim and one glance at the setlist lets Sam know that next up is The Loneliness – a lovely, emotional ballad that he usually performed on the – 

The piano.  

Fuck. 

Of course. There’s a glittery golden grand piano in the middle of the stage, how did it not occur to him that he would actually have to play it? He can play a few chords. Simple melodies. He’s not going to fucking perform a song in front of 20,000 people.  

Well, thank god Lestat is a brat.  

“Do we have track for this?” he calls over to his band who just look at each other with confused expressions. “I don’t wanna play right now.” 

“Dude,” Alex says. “You always play it. We don’t have a track because you claimed it was better to keep it acoustic.” 

Sam purses his lips. Just double down. “Well, I’m not playing it. Skip it, then.” 

“Geez. What’s gotten into you,” Tough Cookie mutters, but eventually nods. “Fine. Say a few words to the crowd and then we’ll play our final song.” 

Sam feels awful about upsetting the band, but if he attempted to play the piano it would not go well. He turns back around, clutching the microphone in his hand. The spotlight is on him so he can thankfully barely see the crowd. His gaze flicks over to the VIP tent and once it settles on Jacob, he feels himself relax a little.  

He’s said these lines before, in the show. He doesn’t remember them word for word, but it’s enough to be able to improvise. 

“What a wonderful night, San Francisco!” he shouts into the microphone, the crowd roaring with screams and applause. “This night has been an absolute blast.” A lie. It has been one of the most, if not the most exhausting night of his life. “I love you guys. Thank you for coming out tonight, and now, for our final song... Let’s go down with a bang.” He winks at the last word, delivering the line exactly how he did as Lestat.  

The band starts playing All Fall Down, and Sam, for one last time, has to own the stage as the Vampire Lestat.  

He swings his hips to the music, thrusts against the microphone stand, tries to forget about the fact that the people whose eyes are fixed on him and who are screaming along to the lyrics aren’t paid extras but spent their own hard-earned money to be here. And as the song comes to an end and the golden confetti drops from the ceiling, he blows kisses into the crowd and hurries backstage.  

“Lestat, what’s wrong with you?” 

Tough Cookie follows close behind him, but all he wants is just to get back into his dressing room, pass out on the couch and preferably wake up in his own bed in New York City. In his own, human body, with Jacob right by his side. Maybe this is all just a terrible nightmare. Maybe he got sick and this is a literal fever dream, and when he wakes up he’ll laugh about the absurdity of it all with Jacob. Speaking of Jacob – 

“Lestat!” 

He spins around. “Please, TC. It’s been a long night, I’m not feeling well, I just want to go home with J- Louis.” 

Tough Cookie looks shocked. “You’re still together?” 

Sam rolls his eyes dramatically, almost offended everyone seems to think they’d have broken up by now. He doesn’t know the exact timeline in this universe, but by the end of season 3 Louis and Lestat are pretty much inseparable. “Yes.” 

As she stares him down, he holds his breath, but finally, she lets out a long sigh. “Why am I still surprised? You’ve been with him for a good couple of months now. But I’m glad you two are good. You’re 20% more likeable when you’re together.” 

Sam scoffs, taking even more offense on Lestat’s behalf.  

TC raises her hands in defense. “I’m just saying you don’t get on my nerves as much because you’re busy with someone else.” 

Fair. Sam has to give it to her.  

“Fine. Now, would you excuse me? I need to find Louis.” 

“Wait. What about your meet and greet? Did you forget about it?” 

Fuck Lestat and his stupid fucking showbiz.  

“Cancel it,” he says with a flick of his hand. “Give them refunds, whatever they want. I’m not seeing anyone tonight.” Or ever again. Hopefully. 

Without waiting for her response, he spins on his heel and makes a beeline for the dressing room. He can hear her calling after him, telling him it’s not her job to coordinate his meet and greets which, fair enough, but he’s so overwhelmed he just wants to crawl into a hole and cry. So he does the next best thing and pushes the door open, relieved to find Jacob already on the couch. He jumps up the moment Sam enters. 

“You were incredible!” 

Sam doesn’t like to admit just how much Jacob has showered him in compliments during filming, but he still blushes every single time. He can’t help it – he’s modest by nature. But at least tonight, he doesn’t want to get into it.  

“Let’s get out of here. I swear to God if we’re not back in New York by tomorrow I’m going to lose it.” 

He walks over to the closet, throws his shirt onto a pile of clothes and peels off his leather pants. He’s not used to skin-tight clothes in his day-to-day life, but looking the part definitely helped him get back into the role. Still, his baggy pants make him feel way more like himself. And then – God, then there’s the makeup.  

He spins around and walks over to the vanity, grabs the bottle of makeup remover and squeezes some onto a cotton pad and starts rubbing at his skin, removing the layers of foundation, eyeshadow and glitter.  

“Cookie said I had a meet and greet,” he says as he’s smearing his mascara around his eye, the pad not removing it but making him look like a raccoon. “Canceled it. I don’t care anymore, I just want to go home.” 

It’s silent for a moment, and then he hears Jacob sigh behind him. “Yeah. Me too.” 

He stills, propping himself against the table, suddenly weak and shaky. The high from the performance is wearing off. Reality setting back in. The thirst – he ignores it. 

“Fuck. People think we’re missing! Or did fucking Loustat take our place in the real world and now everyone thinks we’re in some fucked-up situationship?” 

Despite the tension, Jacob huffs out a laugh.  

“To be honest I’d prefer that over people thinking we’re gone. People will just accept the fact we got fully possessed by our characters. We wouldn’t even have to explain anything.” 

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile but he can’t laugh quite yet, his worry making him feel guilty for even thinking about laughing.  

Finally, Sam manages to wipe off his makeup. He grabs a makeup wipe out of the box and wipes his face, just to soothe the irritation from the rubbing. He feels it again, the thirst, making him nauseous, his veins throbbing, demanding blood. He swallows. Surely, if he’s Lestat, he can control it. 

“Hey,” Jacob suddenly says, his voice soft, his eyes meeting his gaze. “Me too. We’ll take it one step at a time, yeah?” 

Sam hesitates, but finally gives in and nods. As terrifying as it is, there’s no way around it. They will have to feed at some point. But maybe they’ll manage to delay it for as long as possible. 

The knock on the door pulls him out of his thoughts. 

“Lestat?” 

Sam looks at Jacob in the mirror, takes a deep breath and straightens his posture – something he does subconsciously when he gets in character, and ever since Jacob pointed it out Sam always notices when he does it.  

“Yes?” he calls back, conjuring up his Lestat accent. 

“Your pickup is here. You can go whenever you’re ready.” 

His gaze flicks to Jacob before he closes his eyes and exhales in relief. Jacob lays his hand on his shoulder and his voice is soft when he speaks.  

“Come on. Let’s go.” 

 

* 

 

“There has to be a way.” 

Sam is pacing around the hotel room – presidential suite, more like, but he’s not in the right headspace to admire it right now – his face buried in his hands for a second before he runs his fingers through his hair and sighs loudly. 

“There is,” Jacob says. “I’m sure of it. Why don’t we just try a few things?” 

“Like what?” Sam snaps. Taken aback by his own tone he takes a step back and looks at Jacob apologetically. “I’m sorry, Jake. It’s just –” 

“I know. You don’t need to apologize to me. I’m freaking out too.” 

The whole ride to the hotel they spent in silence and Sam contemplated ways to get back. Nothing made sense, so after a while he just sat there defeated, telling himself that accepting their fate was their only solution. He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair again, annoyed at the mere sensation of it in his neck right now. He grabs one of the hair ties on his wrist and ties his hair back into a knot. Good. One less problem. “What can we try?” 

“It’s always true love in the films,” Jacob begins, but before he can continue Sam huffs out a laugh. 

“True love? I haven’t even found true love in the real world and you want me to find it here?” 

Jacob gives a weak shrug before he flops down on the bed. “We’re Louis and Lestat. Maybe it’s about us? Or them?” 

Sam’s tone softens when he speaks up again and he takes a few steps towards Jacob. “What do you mean?” 

“Maybe we need to learn a lesson? I don’t know. Something about loving each other at our worst?” 

“Well, I am kind of at my worst right now, so if you still love me I guess we’re getting out of here.” It’s self-deprecating humor. It’s always gotten him through some shit. 

But Jacob looks genuinely offended that Sam could even question it. “Of course I still love you.” 

Suddenly, Jacob lets out a quiet gasp. Sam raises his eyebrows at him.  

“What?” 

“Don’t laugh at me. I know how this sounds, but at this point, I’m willing to try anything. Maybe the universe wants a true love’s kiss. I love you as my best friend. You’re my soulmate. I’d say it’s true love, even if it’s not romantic.” 

For a moment, Sam just lets it sink in, ignoring the way his heart clenches. He’s not sure why it does that sometimes. “A kiss? Don’t be ridiculous.” 

Jacob gets up from the bed again. “Doesn’t have to be on the lips. Literally anywhere.” 

“Um. Okay?” It’s absolute insanity to think that a kiss will catapult them back into the real world, but then, the fact they ended up in an alternate universe is crazy in itself. Who’s to say that’s not the solution? And Jacob is right – they do love each other. 

Sam walks up to Jacob, cups his face in his hands and presses a gentle but lingering kiss to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping, praying it works.  

A few moments go by before he dares to open his eyes again. Nothing.  

He feels Jacob slump in despair, the same way his own heart sinks. 

“Can I kiss you? Maybe it – I don’t know.” 

“Sure. Go for it.” 

Jacob stands on his tiptoes, cradles Sam’s face and presses his soft lips to his forehead. Sam’s heart does its weird skip again, but when Jacob pulls back, they’re still in the very same ridiculously fancy hotel suite.  

“Should we just fuck it?” Sam suddenly says before he can stop himself. “Kiss on the mouth? If it gets us back...” 

“Sam, in all honesty, I’d sleep with you if it got us back. Let’s try to kiss for real.” 

They’ve kissed hundreds of times before, the scenes going on for hours sometimes. A kiss from this angle, the same kiss from another, and then maybe it wasn’t up to the director’s standards and they had to go again. Sometimes, late at night Sam caught himself in the fantasy that Jacob maybe messed it up on purpose but then he shook his head to get rid of the intrusive thought. Jacob is a professional. And so is Sam. 

Jacob’s warm gaze meets his as he cups his face again. “You sure?” 

Sam gives a determined nod, ignoring his pounding heart with practiced skill. Jacob’s lips press against his in a soft, chaste kiss, lingering long enough so Sam can kiss back. And when they don’t feel a difference, it becomes a mutual, unspoken decision to deepen it. 

Sam’s hands grip onto Jacob’s waist, his fingers tangling in the shirt as he parts his lips slightly, just enough for Jacob to kiss his mouth all the way open and let his tongue slide against Sam’s, making his heart race, drawing out tiny little gasps from them both.  

When Jacob pulls back again Sam’s lips feel wet and swollen, but there’s no difference otherwise. Still the same place. 

He lets out a long sigh as he takes a few steps back, bringing some more respectable distance between them. It’s a reflex he picked up on set from the very start to keep everything appropriate and professional.  

Jacob chews on his bottom lip. “Well, shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

There’s a long moment of silence. Neither of them speaks, both caught in their own anxiety. 

“Maybe it’s about self-acceptance?” Jacob says after a while. “Maybe we have to accept ourselves at our worst. Learn to love ourselves despite everything. Maybe we just have to prove we’re good vampires because if we accept ourselves as monsters, we can love ourselves in any other circumstance?” 

Sam has to admit, that’s a pretty solid theory. “You’re probably right, yeah,” he says, his voice still weak after that kiss. “And how do we do that?” 

“We go for a hunt and feed. I think that’s the first hurdle. Once we do that, I hope the rest just follows...” 

Sam nods, worrying his lip with his teeth. “Looks like we’re gonna be stuck here for a while, then.” 

“I think so. Yeah.” 

“We’re gonna have to play Loustat convincingly. Maybe we should, uh... discuss what we’re okay with in public.” 

Jacob just shrugs. “I don’t have any hard lines with you. I’m down for whatever. Whatever it takes to convince them. You can touch me, kiss me, on the mouth, the neck, wherever. We’re basically just going full method here, it’s not much different from filming.” 

For a moment Sam thinks about it but he quickly realizes Jacob is right. There’s no difference – they’ve played these characters for four years now, they’re best friends, they know they can trust each other. They may be without their intimacy coordinator now, but it’s not like they ever really needed her.  

“Okay. Me too,” Sam says. “Should we still have a safe word?” 

Jacob nods, his gaze averted as he thinks about the options. “We need something inconspicuous. What if we comment on... each other’s shoes? That’s not something we usually do. Anything else, like a single word, would be too obvious I think.” 

“Yeah, okay. I like that.” 

It’s not like he thinks they’ll ever need it. They’re professionals, they know each other’s boundaries, and Sam would never do anything he isn’t completely certain Jacob is okay with and he knows Jacob would do the same. Still, it’s reassuring to know they can communicate their discomfort if they ever need to. 

“Well, let’s get this over with.” Jacob grabs his jacket, probably out of habit since they don’t get cold anymore, and walks towards the door. And once again, Sam’s nausea kicks in, his stomach churning and his mouth dry, right as Jacob says, “I, for one, am hungry as hell.”  

Chapter 3: Bleeding Through

Notes:

We're leaning into the vampirism a little in this one, but it's gonna be the only chapter like this. It's all about character bleed though. Hope you enjoy!!

It’s not difficult to find a victim. Once they step out of the hotel into the still bustling streets of San Francisco, they let their instincts guide them to a nearby park. The gate closed at nine so they jump the fence, surprised to still find some people lingering, whether by free will or intoxication they can’t tell. 

Despite every fiber of Sam’s being recoiling at the idea of draining a human, he follows his intuition to a lake, Jacob following close behind him. And as they sneak behind bushes they see them: a couple, high on love and other things, half-hidden in the shadow of an old oak, making shameless, loud love in the dirt. Sam cringes but feels his fangs come out, feels his focus lock on them, unable to look at anything else. His heartrate slows and everything feels like it moves in slow-motion. Lestat’s words flash in his mind and somehow, intuitively, he knows he was right: no blood is sweeter than that of two people on the height of their passion. 

The couple can’t hear them, too lost in themselves, the drugs doing the rest. They could appear with an entire marching band and they probably wouldn’t notice.  

“Do you want the man or the woman?” Sam asks, his eyes not budging from the pair. He feels Jacob shift next to him.  

“I don’t care.” 

It’s obvious in his voice that he does care. Not about who to drain, but about draining them in the first place. If Sam allows himself a single thought about it, he knows he’s not going to do it. But the thirst... He’s going to die if he doesn’t. 

“Can’t we get some fish maybe? An alligator? There’s probably something in that pond.” 

Now his gaze finally flicks over to Jacob and he raises his eyebrows. “I thought the point was to be good vampires? Believe me when I say the last thing I want to do is to kill them. But we’re trying to prove to the universe that we can live with our atrocities, no?” 

“That’s not exactly what I meant when I said it.” 

Sam swallows, suddenly annoyed at Jacob’s shift in morale. Half an hour ago he was the one pushing the idea to drain people and now as they’re just about to do it and Sam’s fucking fangs are out, he pulls back? 

“What did you mean?” His voice sounds snappy. He crosses his arms.  

It’s the vampirism talking, he knows it from the countless hours he spent reading Anne Rice as a teenager and as an adult. Feelings are more intense. Mild annoyance becomes rage in a matter of seconds, and Lestat in particular has a certain predisposition. Uncrossing his arms, he forces himself to take a deep breath. No matter how much he loves Lestat, he’s not going to become him. Not when he’s with Jacob. 

“You don’t have to do it. I’m sorry.” 

Jacob shakes his head, his gaze averted. The way he worries at his bottom lip – he’s embarrassed, anxious he disappointed Sam.  

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft now, his hand on Jacob’s shoulder. “It’s fine. You’re right. We don’t have to do what we’re not comfortable with. Maybe that’s what the universe is trying to tell us. To just be ourselves.” 

Jacob nods, but it seems like he’s not really convinced. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” 

Sam feels his fangs retract again, but he doesn’t mention it. One more look at the couple, his head spinning, his stomach churning in hunger before he follows Jacob to the lakeshore.  

Jacob stills suddenly, his hand extended to signal to Sam to halt, too. His eyes take in his surroundings, snapping from barren tree branches to the murky water to bugs crawling through the mud. He can’t smell much aside from sandy dirt and decay, and when he tries to listen all he gets is literal crickets and other insects. A dog starts barking in the distance. 

“I swear to god, Jacob, if you follow in Louis’ footsteps and start draining pets –” 

“Shh...” 

Without taking his gaze off of whatever he had focused he grabs Sam by his shirt and pulls him along as he makes his way over to a hollowed log on the ground, overgrown with moss and wood-decay fungi that looks so brittle it would crack and scare off their prey if they got too close. Sam follows Jacob’s line of sight again and this time he sees it: in the shadow by the shore there are two nutrias, their fur wet like they just came out of the swamp. Sam feels his eyes lock on the prey again, his fangs coming out, his breath slowing. It’s his vampiric instincts – he’s on a hunt.  

“They’re invasive species,” Jacob says, and it’s so quiet Sam doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to pick it up as a human. “We’re protecting the wildlife.” 

He can hear their little feet now toddling over the mud, and when he focuses more intently, he can hear their fast little heartbeat. He brings his hand up to grab Jacob’s, loosening his grip on his shirt so he can move. And then, it’s all instincts. 

It should be gross. He should be revolted. The moment he tosses the carcass back into the lake, watching it float unconsciously, he should be convulsing, purging his stomach’s contents right out of his system. Instead, he feels warm, suddenly so full of energy when he could barely think straight only a few moments ago. He spins, turning around to see Jacob still clutching the animal, its blood smearing around his mouth as he drains it. And it’s almost like his body expects to, wants to be sick, but it never seeps through. Completely mesmerized he just watches the life drain out of the swamp rat, his gaze following as its limp body lands in the water and continues to float until the light current pulls it under a shrub and it disappears into oblivion. That’s when Sam snaps back to reality. 

“Oh my god,” he mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. Shaky, he brings his fingers to his lips and looks at his red hands, all bloody and sticky. Did they just –? 

“Sam.” 

Maybe reality hasn’t hit Jacob yet, but he comes over and cradles Sam’s face, runs his thumbs over his cheeks, the smell of blood wafting off of him. It should be repulsive. But he wants it.  

His hands push Jacob away before he can even think about what he’s doing, terror spreading in his body like a kick of adrenaline, and suddenly he’s running, back to the entrance of the park and over the fence and back through the bustling streets, people’s chatter morphing into white noise, his head pounding with thirst. He’s not parched anymore. Not starving. But he craves it nonetheless. 

“Sam! Wait!” Jacob calls from behind him, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t take the same way they came from, but after a while he still ends up at their hotel. “Sam. Please.” Jacob places his hand back on Sam’s shoulder and this time, he leaves it there. Still, he remains silent as they make their way through the lavish lobby, passing by the reception, feeling the staff’s gazes on them but not turning around to pay them any attention.  

Only when the elevator door slides closed, Sam manages to exhale.  

“Fuck, Jacob,” he mutters, his voice shaky. “We drained them.” 

“We did,” Jacob says matter-of-factly. It almost drives Sam insane how detached he seems about it. “We had to. We’re vampires.” 

That’s another thing that still hasn’t sunk in. They’re vampires. Actual, predatory creatures that hunt and kill and drain and are monsters. Creatures he thought only appeared in fairytales and nightmares.  

His ever-approaching insanity draws a humorless huffed out laugh out of him. “Maybe this is all just a dream and I’ll wake up sweaty and gross but at least I’m in my bed in New York and you’re just a call away and I’ll call you and we can laugh about how fucked up my brain is for coming up with all this. Fuck, nutrias? That’s ridiculous!” 

His gaze flicks over to Jacob and he half-expects him to laugh, but when he only gives a nervous chuckle he knows he’s not dreaming.  

The door slides open again and with his eyes down he tries to make a beeline for their room when he runs into someone. 

“Shit, so-” 

Assad – no, Armand – stares at him with his big, amber eyes.  

“Watch your step, Lestat,” he says, his voice flat, completely devoid of emotion. “And what was that? Were you just about to apologize to me?” 

Intuitively, Sam slips back into character. “Apologize to you?” he asks in his half French, half something unidentifiable trademark Lestat accent. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Daniel catches up and puts an arm around Armand’s waist. Sam feels Jacob next to him mirror it, feels his comforting warmth on him. 

“Ah, there you are,” Daniel says, his tone surprisingly not as condescending as Armand’s. “We’ve been looking for you. Figured maybe you needed some alone time.” 

“Or you found a place to fight that wouldn’t disturb your next-door neighbors.” Armand shrugs. “All the same. If not tonight then maybe tomorrow.” 

Sam feels Jacob’s grip tighten around him. “The fuck’s your problem?” 

“Nothing, Louis.” He raises his hands in dramatic surrender. “It’s just that I’ve put up with listening to you yearning for Lestat for seventy-seven years and as soon as you get him back you dump him again for some stupid reason. It’s entertaining, I’ll give you that. Certainly more than the stability and love that we shared.” 

“It was never love between us, and you know it.” 

Sam holds back a laugh. Jacob is very opinionated about Armand and his relationship with Louis, and when someone insinuates they were truly in love he does not hold back with his arguments. 

But in order to keep Armand from killing Jacob, he needs to defuse the situation. “Why were you looking for us? We just went on a hunt.” 

Armand squints his eyes and furrows his brows, looking at Jacob. “Since when do you hunt?” 

“We hunt, on occasion,” Sam tries to help but Armand’s eyes linger on Jacob.  

“I thought you didn’t want to kill anymore? Didn’t you brag, oh, I’m Louis de Pointe du Lac, I haven’t killed anyone since the year 2000!” 

Daniel contorts his face in sympathy. “You did say that.” 

“It’s none of your business what I do,” Jacob snaps, his grip tightening possessively around Sam.  

Daniel groans. “I can’t do this again. I just wanted a word about the documentary. But if you’re gonna argue we can do it literally any other time.” 

Sam straightens his posture and shrugs, just like Lestat would. “We can do it now.” He looks at Jacob, letting his eyes linger on his beautiful face. “We can behave.” 

From the corner of his eye he catches Armand roll his eyes. “Just say what you wanted to say. I can read your mind, Lestat.” 

His gaze snaps back to Armand, panic washing over him. With everything else going on, he didn’t consider they could actually read their fucking minds. Now he hopes and prays he can’t feel the sheer terror spreading through his body. 

“Well, if you already know then I don’t need to say it,” he sasses instead, narrowing his eyes, his arm tight around Jacob now as he leads him towards their room. “Follow us or don’t. I don’t really give a shit.” 

For a moment they hesitate but eventually he feels the vibrations of their footsteps following close behind. He shoots Jacob an anxious gaze, hoping to convey his thoughts as best as he can without actually thinking them in his mind, and he finds the same look reflected back at him.  

Daniel and Armand scurry into the suite behind them, and take their seats on the white leather couch, making Sam cringe when Daniel puts his feet, muddy shoes and all, on the pristine ottoman. Sam flops down in the armchair across from him, only realizing there’s no room for Jacob when he has to let go of his waist.  

Lestat would flaunt their relationship obnoxiously in front of Armand, that, he’s sure about. But he also wouldn’t use Louis as a tool just to rub it in. But if there’s one thing about Lestat, it’s that he just got Louis back after over eighty years. Lestat has always been naturally touchy. Imagine him now – he’d never want to let go of Louis ever again. 

“Come, chéri. We can both fit in this chair.” 

He takes Jacob’s hand and guides him to the armchair, scooting to the side to leave half a space for him. The look on Jacob’s face is fond – he’s playing Louis flawlessly.  

“It’s fine, I’ll just –” He trails off, taking a seat on the armrest instead. Sam lets his hand rest on his lower back. Jacob’s eyes flick over to him and he gives him a soft, reassuring smile that Sam immediately returns. Then his hand finds Sam’s and he interlaces their fingers, pulling it around so both their hands eventually rest on Jacob’s hip. And it’s probably the aftermath of the blood that makes him feel so hot right now, makes Jacob feel so hot, his body radiating a sparkling energy that tingles under Sam’s fingertips.  

It’s either that, or – 

“Earth to Lestat, hello?” Daniel flicks his fingers, Sam’s gaze immediately snapping back to him. He raises his eyebrows, shifting in his seat, crossing one leg over the other.  

“Hm?” 

Daniel chuckles. “I remember interviewing these guys and thinking they were obnoxious, but this is a whole 'nother level. Anyway, the documentary?” 

“Yes.” Sam gives a courteous nod, pretending to know exactly what he’s talking about.  

“We paused it when – you know.” 

Sam nods again. “We did.” When Akasha kidnapped him. That happened in the show, so for once he actually knows the context.  

“Well... Would you like to continue it?” 

For a moment Sam contemplates the idea before he realizes just how absurd it is. He’s not Lestat. He’s certainly not going to do a documentary on Lestat’s life.  

“What’s the point now? I got what I wanted.”  

He squeezes Jacob’s hip and looks up at him smiling, and suddenly, Jacob leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. It takes Sam completely off-guard and he hopes he doesn’t blush with how hot his cheeks feel all of a sudden. Part of him wants to reach out and put his arm around Jacob’s neck and pull him back in, steal another kiss or two, but as soon as the thought comes it’s gone again. Why did he think that? It’s probably something about feeling more intensely as a vampire. Whatever spark may or may not have been there as they were filming, it has the potential to take over their bodies now that they have to live it. He better be careful. 

“So you don’t –” Daniel laughs as he points between them. “Don’t tell me you did all this just for Louis.” 

Sam feels his blood start to boil in offense on Lestat’s behalf. How is that not a good enough reason? He shoots him a glare, then a humorless grin.  

“Of course I do everything for Louis. I thought after two years of being in our orbit you would’ve gotten that.” 

Jacob mindlessly slides his hand across his back, just to let his arm settle around his shoulder. He can’t help but look up at his face as he does it, and only when he settles, he realizes he held his breath. It’s not like vampires need to breathe anyway – he can get away with it.  

When he looks back at Daniel and Armand, he notices Armand tilting his head slightly, his big, round eyes narrowed. He sits back, his legs crossed, his hands resting on his knee. He’s the image of calm confidence, and for a second Sam finds himself excited at the thought of sitting across from the Vampire Armand.  

“Something’s odd,” Armand remarks, clearly talking to Daniel even though his eyes never leave Sam. “There’s a sense of excitement at Louis’ touch, like he hasn’t touched him in a very long time. His heartbeat quickened.” Now, he lets his gaze drift over to Daniel. “I think they’re playing games with us.” 

“What did I say about you poking around in my brain?” Jacob hisses, but as terrifying as it is it seems to have no effect on Armand. “That goes for him too.” 

“Alright, alright.” Armand raises his hands in surrender. “Still policing what I do or say after eighty years.” 

“If you’re gonna do that, you can leave,” Sam says, surprising himself with how steady his voice sounds despite his panic. “I’m not going to let you insinuate there’s something wrong between me and Louis.” 

“It’s getting uncomfortable anyway,” Armand says, standing up from the couch with his palm pressed to his forehead. “You two are not hiding your thoughts about each other very well.” 

Daniel’s lips form a straight line and he slaps his hands on his lap and gets up as well.  

“Well. I was sure you wanted to do the documentary. If you’re sure you don’t want to do it, then I guess we’ll be on our way.” 

He looks over at Armand who gives one brief nod. 

Despite his better judgment, Sam allows himself a tiny dip into Daniel’s thoughts. He doesn’t dare to hack Armand’s brain, not yet, but he can practice on Daniel. He focuses in on his breathing, his heartbeat, his blood pumping through his veins. Quiet. And then, his thoughts, spoken in the same boisterous voice Sam is all too familiar with.  

Hell with these guys. And Armand. He’s fucking jealous of the both of them. They’re a unit. They’re not going to separate just because he’s still thirsting after Lestat two hundred years later. 

Of course, Sam knows it from reading the books and the scripts for their adaptation. It’s tragic, the way Armand holds on to toxic people because he never got to develop a sense of self. He submits himself to anyone who’ll have him for a brief moment, devoting himself entirely to that person because he doesn’t know how to exist outside of it. Sam realizes he should be terrified of him, but instead, he just feels sorry. 

Save your pity, Lestat. 

Armand isn’t moving his lips. He’s speaking to him in his mind.  

Save it for Louis once he realizes you’re nothing more than just a lonely man one crashout away from burying yourself underground for a hundred years. You abandon people before they abandon you. It’s what you’ve always done. 

“One more thing,” Armand says, his eyes on Jacob now. “It is most curious how your eyes changed color overnight. And Lestat doesn’t seem to know you so well if he claims they’ve always been brown. I spent an entire human lifetime with you and they were always a striking emerald green.” 

“They’re contacts, Armand,” Jacob says, his voice drawn out in mock patience. “My eyes were brown as a human. I missed it. Makes me feel more like myself.” 

“Ah.” Armand smiles but his eyes remain cold. “A man of nostalgia. How touching.” 

Without waiting for a response, Armand exits the room, Daniel following close behind. The door falls shut behind them.  

It takes a moment for Sam to move, just from how perplexed he is at the whole situation. At first, he’d been surprised to find Armand tagging along on his tour, but at least now he understands his presence; Daniel’s here because of the documentary, and well, if Daniel’s here, so is Armand. Jacob would argue that he could fuck off and never come back, and well, he wouldn’t be wrong about that. Armand, at least in their version, had committed some unforgivable atrocities, and neither Louis nor Lestat had forgiven him by the end of the season. Sam knows of and loves their special bond in the books, but with the history between them in the show, there’s no hope for rekindling anytime soon. Still, he’s an ever-present nuisance in their lives apparently that they need to learn how to deal with. This Armand has killed their daughter. This Armand is haughty and broken and jealous and unpredictably calculated. 

“Sam?” Jacob asks, shaking him from his thoughts. When he feels his hand on his shoulder, it pulls him out completely. “Are you okay?” 

“Hm? Yeah.” He blinks, shaking his head lightly to clear his mind. “Sorry, I just – Armand. He –” He trails off, gesturing with his hands before he stills his movements too, not knowing what he’s even trying to say. 

“He read your mind?” 

“Yeah. I guess so.” It feels like his breath was punched out of his lungs.  

There’s a moment of silence before Jacob speaks again. “What did he mean when he said there was excitement –?” 

Sam huffs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it, maybe to distract from his feelings. “Don’t worry about that. I don’t know what that was. A character bleed moment. Do you also feel like you’re slowly becoming Louis?” 

Another beat of silence, and then, “No. Why, are you feeling like you’re becoming Lestat?” 

Sam huffs out a laugh. “Then I guess insanity finally got to me. It’s all in my head.” 

“No.” Jacob furrows his brows, his gaze following as Sam sits on the sofa. “Maybe it just hasn’t gotten to me yet. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and be Louis with no recollection of ever being anyone else.” 

Sam’s heart drops at the thought. “Don’t say that.” 

 His voice softens and he takes a seat next to Sam, his hand resting on his thigh in comfort. “Sorry.” 

Instinctively, Sam’s hand finds its way to Jacob’s and he leaves it there, his touch, knowing he still has one person in this universe he can trust finally giving him some comfort. It leaves him with a fluttery stomach too, and there’s really nothing stopping him so he lets go of his hand and wraps his arm around his shoulders instead, pulling him in. 

“I can’t express how glad I am to have you,” he whispers, the weight of the words making it impossible for him to say them any louder. “You’re keeping me sane – somewhat.” He cocks his head to the side as he says it, fully knowing he’s on the verge of a breakdown.  

“We need to be really careful,” Jacob says, his face pressed into his shoulder, his words muffled by the hair in his face. “We can’t have them doubting us. Earlier, in the VIP tent, Armand mentioned a party tomorrow.” 

Sam groans before he can even think about it, the idea of going to a party when he wants nothing more than to get back home to safety and never see these vampires again sounding like absolute torture.  

“I know you don’t want to go. But what would Lestat do? What would Loustat do?” 

“He’d be fashionably late, with Louis by his side, making a big entrance.” 

“Exactly.” 

“He would never leave Louis’ side, and eventually they’d disappear somewhere secluded to make out or have sex.” 

“Right.” 

Sam huffs out a laugh. “But we’re not Loustat.” 

“We pretty much are, though. Well, minus the sex part, but we’ll figure something out.” 

Confused and curious, Sam turns his head to face him. The question remains unuttered, but it’s clear they both know what it is.  

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam’s voice is a little hoarse in his attempt to stick to the topic. There’s no point in trying to figure out what Jacob meant by that. They don’t have to be in love with each other to love each other, that’s probably what he meant. Loustat love each other. They love each other. In that way, they are similar. 

“We’re gonna have to up our game. I want you to be as touchy with me as you can. Hold my waist, grab my ass, I don’t care. Do whatever it takes for them to believe you’re Lestat and I’m Louis. Then, we’re going to make out and make sure Armand sees us. It’s better to be too much than too little.” He looks around as if he’s trying to make sure no one’s listening in. Then, he whispers, “We’ll be seriously fucked if anyone finds out we’re not really Louis and Lestat. We have to do this to stay safe – alive – so we can figure out a plan.” 

Sam nods, his stomach fluttering at the thought of doing all that with Jacob. But he’s right. And after all, his fate could be a lot worse than having to make out with his best friend. 

Chapter 4: Blood and Liquor

“Wait, Sam.” 

Jacob smiles, reaching up to tousle Sam’s hair. They’re in the back alley behind the dodgy club the real Lestat’s manager had apparently booked for tonight. Music is blaring inside, but out here they only get a vague idea of the bassline, the vibration carrying through the ground right to their feet.  

“What are you doing?” Sam can’t help but giggle at Jacob’s fingers getting tangled in his waves he had so neatly styled before leaving their hotel room. 

“There’s a good reason we’re late,” he says, and when Sam doesn’t understand he keeps going. “We had sex. You don’t look messy enough.” 

“Oh.” He feels his cheeks flush but nods, playing along.  

When Jacob seems content with the hair, his fingers drop down to his lips. Sam had rummaged through a makeup pouch that had TVL embroidered on it with silk thread, figuring it was probably Lestat’s. In it, he’d found a nude lipstick that matched his natural lip color almost exactly but gave a faint pop of color, and with Jacob’s encouragement he’d decided to put it on. Now, Jacob’s thumb is smudging it, keeping him rooted in place, unable to breathe. Stunned, he watches as he brings his thumb to his own lips and smears some of that lipstick on his mouth.  

“Do I look like we just made out?” 

Sam just nods, his breath catching in his throat. There’s a pink sheen on Jacob’s lips that undisputedly matches his own.  

“Are you ready?” 

He gives another nod. Anxiety is making his heart thump – they’re being tested, and if they fail, it could end catastrophically. That’s also why they decided to skip the big entrance – too many eyes on them if they slipped up. But at least he has Jacob to soothe his anxiety.  

Jacob entwines his fingers with Sam’s, squeezing his palm in reassurance.  

“Let’s just be all over each other,” Sam suggests, rehashing what Jacob already said last night, mostly just to hype himself up. “We are Louis and Lestat. Let’s act like them.” 

Sam straightens his posture and pushes the door open. Immediately, they get overwhelmed by a wave of loud music and the sweet smell of blood. Sam glances over at Jacob and it’s obvious in his eyes that he can sense it too. There’s something else, though, something neither of them can quite place. 

They make their way through a narrow, exposed-brick hallway, then push another door open to get to the actual club. And just as Sam had anticipated – even through the backdoor, as soon as they step in, all heads turn to look at them and loud cheers erupt.  

For a moment Sam considers saying something, shouting something into the crowd, but then Armand appears, Daniel right beside him. Sam can’t believe he’s actually relieved to see them so he doesn’t have to be as extroverted int he moment.  

“Ah, there you are,” Armand says, little drips of blood tinting his lips a deep crimson. “I thought you’d decided not to show. You’re three hours late.” 

Sam looks at Jacob in the most obnoxiously in love way he can manage. “Louis and I got a little caught up. My apologies.” His gaze flicks back up to Armand as he lets go of Jacob’s hand and settles it on his lower back before thinking better of it and sliding it down to his ass. “Are you saying you missed me?” 

Armand rolls his eyes. “I didn’t. But your groupies did.” 

As if on cue, a young woman emerges from the crowd, a red solo cup in her hand, clearly drunk out of her mind. A group of ladies behind her, cheering her on. Her arms wrap around Sam’s neck, and as he struggles to push her away without hurting her, Jacob hisses, his fangs out on full display, making her jerk back and scurry back into the crowd.  

He looks at him and can’t help but huff out a laugh, completely impressed with what he just did.  

“Whatcha got these for?” he asks, showing off his fangs again. It’s the perfect opportunity for Sam to play along with it.  

“Oh, mon cher.” He turns to face him, his hand still on his ass, now adding a second one to pull him closer. Jacob’s arms wrap loosely around his neck, that glint in his eyes asking, no, challenging him to do it. He leans in and nips at his bottom lip, gently, giving Jacob the option to pull away. But he doesn’t, instead deepening the kiss, making him forget for a moment that there are other people around until Daniel clears his throat. 

“Are you done?” 

“No promises,” Sam says but puts some distance between them, letting his arm settle on Jacob’s hip now. Jacob’s hand finds his, pressing against it in reassurance. They did a good job just now. And that’s what it is – a job.  

“Overcompensation,” Armand begins, his critical eyes flicking between the two of them, his arms crossed in front of him. “The devil’s crutch. I don’t buy it.” 

“Well, it’s a good thing our relationship is not up for discussion,” Sam retorts. “Especially not from you. And now would you excuse us? I can smell the blood, but I can’t see it. And I need it in my system.” 

Before either of them can say anything, he grabs Jacob’s hand and leads him through the crowd. They don’t get very far before another groupie girl blocks their way, rolling her hips to the music, her eyes gazing seductively into Sam’s. Just like the other girl, she’s completely wasted. 

“I loved your show last night,” she purrs, her gaze glued to Sam, not even noticing him holding Jacob’s hand. “What do you say? Wanna go to the backrooms? Heard there’s a roomy one with a plush couch we can test –” 

Sam is not used to people flirting so openly with him. Sure, some fans he’d met over the years had seemed rather interested, but never so outwardly. But he swallows his personal bias and reminds himself he’s here as Lestat. 

“You are most gorgeous, chérie,” he flirts, letting his fingers glide along the soft skin of her face. “As much as I’d love to, I’m afraid I’m not available.” He drops his hand and looks over at Jacob. “I am devoted to my Louis.” 

“As if that’s ever stopped you,” she giggles, reaching out to cup his face but Sam ducks just in time. He lets out a frustrated laugh. 

“Well, it is stopping me this time.” 

“Come on, let’s go,” Jacob urges, his hand around Sam’s waist, pulling him along.  

Finally, they get to a bar where the unmistakable scent of blood mixes with alcohol. That’s what they’d smelled when they came inside.  

The bartender just eyes them and brings out two ready-made crystal glasses of deep red blood. 

“The donations you requested,” the bartender explains with a thick Irish accent as he notices Sam staring at the viscous liquid. “Happy ethical drinking.” 

Donations. Does that make him feel any better? He’s caught in-between, the vestige of his humanity fighting against his vampiric instinct to enjoy it. But as his fangs start to come out he knows refusing it is futile. He needs it. It’s food. Plus, he’s not killing anybody.  

A disturbing thought flashes through his mind. Would one of the groupies volunteer for him to take a tiny drink? They would. That’s what Lestat actually does in the show. The intrigue of what it would feel like fills him with disgust, so to drown it out, he grabs the glass and downs it all in one go.  

A pleasant warmth spreads in his body. He can feel the fresh blood pumping its way through his veins already, giving him energy, making him feel more alive. Alive and dizzy. His fingers wrap around the glass and he lifts it up, examining it as if he could make any guesses about the residue of its contents. Then, he brings it up to his nose to smell it.  

It’s pungent, the smell, but it’s unmistakably alcohol. Alcohol smelled through his heightened vampire senses, but at least it’s just alcohol. 

“Did you spike this?” 

The bartender looks up at him in confusion. “You ordered alcohol blood. The donors were inebriated.” 

His lips form a straight line. Of course Lestat ordered alcohol blood. Why is he even surprised at this point. 

“Want a refill?” 

Sam thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs. It did feel good to drink it. “Sure, whatever.” He slides the glass over, then watches as Jacob tentatively brings it to his lips and sips it like a fancy red wine.  

If he doesn’t think about it too much he can ignore just how much it affects him that drinking blood doesn’t appall him. So in an attempt to distract himself, he leans over to Jacob, trying to look seductive as he whispers into his ear.  

“What do we do? Armand can see right through us.” 

Jacob leans in then, his hot breath against his ear casting shivers all over his body.  

“What would Loustat do at a party? We do exactly what they would do.” 

“But what about him? He caught us overcompensating,” Sam argues, jerking back away from Jacob when the bartender slides over his drink. He nods in thanks and focuses back on Jacob. 

“Yeah, let’s maybe not make out right in front of him. That was on me though, I’m sorry.” 

Sam furrows his brows, the alcohol in his blood making him a little more blunt. “I kissed you. I should be the one apologizing. But I still don’t feel like that’s completely out of character for him.” 

“Out of character for whom?” 

Sam startles as Daniel slaps his hand on his shoulder. Quickly, he thinks of something to say. “I was saying it wouldn’t be out of character for Armand to be... jealous.” He cringes at the realization that he’s insinuating someone’s jealous because of him.  

“Ah, yeah.” Daniel looks back, probably to check if Armand is within earshot. When he can’t spot him, he continues. “He’s been weird ever since you two got back together. Wouldn’t put too much weight on what he says.” 

Jacob laughs. “Don’t let him hear you say that.” When Jacob brings his glass back to his lips and the blood stains them red, he feels that pull again. He wants it. Or him – he can’t tell. He tears his gaze away, balling his hands into fists. He can deal with character bleed. Maybe character bleed is the exact thing that will save them.  

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel says with a chuckle, then turns to the bartender. “Hey! Where’s my stuff?” 

The bartender slides over a different glass filled with the same viscous red liquid.  

“What’s that?” Sam asks, pointing at the blood. 

“That’s not for you, kid.” Daniel pats his shoulder again, less aggressively this time. “We don’t want another breakdown. Let’s just say it’s a little stronger than what you’ve got.” 

Sam knows immediately what he’s referring to. In the show, the groupies Lestat drains in a desperate attempt to drown out his thoughts are drugged up. He suffers constant hangovers, is often left in nearly unresponsive states because of it. By the end of the season though, with Louis’ help, he recovers.  

No cocaine blood for him, then. 

Jacob finishes his glass and slides it over, signaling to the bartender to fill it back up. He disappears with the glass and a few moments later comes back with a new drink. 

“It’s stronger than I expected,” Jacob says, bringing the filled-up glass to his lips and taking a sip. “Is it weird that I like it?” 

It is weird that they like the taste of blood. But Sam gets it. He’d be a hypocrite to judge Jacob for it. 

“No,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass. He leans in to whisper the rest even though there’s nothing secret about his words. Maybe he just likes the proximity. “We’re vampires. We’re allowed to enjoy it.” 

When he pulls back, Jacob looks at him, a smile forming on his lips. For a moment, they enjoy their drinks in silence, the bass drowning out Sam’s thoughts. It’s nice, not having to think for a moment. And the lovely buzz of the alcohol certainly helps. 

“Wanna dance?” Jacob smirks at him, knowing fully well that dancing in front of people is Sam’s worst nightmare.  

He huffs out a laugh. “I think I’m gonna need a few more drinks for that.” 

“Come onnnnn!”  

There has always been something about that playful pout that makes it hard to resist him, especially when he presses his palm against the lapel of his shirt, his thumb grazing his bare skin. Sam rolls his eyes, the smile spreading on his face betraying him. Downing the rest of the blood he hops down from the barstool and takes Jacob’s hand. Instinctively, he knows he’s stepping into dangerous territory when he gets tipsy. It’s not like he would ever do something, but the alcohol makes it harder to ignore the fluttery feeling in his chest when Jacob’s fingers entwine with his and he pulls him to the dancefloor.  

Completely on autopilot, his arms wrap around Jacob’s neck and he pulls him closer, shivers spreading where Jacob’s hands rest on his waist. Jacob hums, his voice warm and sweet, and he follows his gaze as he scans him up and down, taking him in then smiling in appreciation. 

“You look so good like this. You should wear this style more often.” 

Sam looks down at himself, already forgotten what he put on. It’s something he found in the hotel room closet, probably set out for him by some stylist he – Lestat – hired for the tour. He’s wearing a gold chain body harness that wraps around his neck like a choker, drapes down in the front before wrapping around his ribs. On top of that, he threw on a burgundy silk blouse and left it unbuttoned, tucked into some high-waisted black slacks with gold buttons adorning its sides. Jacob already complimented him in their ensuite bathroom, but hearing him say it again now has his cheeks flushing and his heart fluttering.  

“You want me in a chain body harness on just a random Tuesday afternoon in New York?” Sam teases, trying to ignore what the thought is doing to him. 

Playfully, Jacob rolls his eyes. “Take the compliment, Sam. I need to up my game if you’re still so bad at it. Where do I start?” He starts swaying to the music, completely off-beat, then lets out a giggle. “Ah, I think the blood’s getting to me. I feel dizzy. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Compliments. You’re soooooo talented. And so committed. And I love that you’re my best friend.” 

Sam chuckles nervously, tucking his hair behind his ear. It’s a reflex. He does it when he blushes. “You’re drunk.” 

He’s starting to feel it too, how the crowd goes blurry, how he’s able to focus so hard on Jacob that everyone else kind of disappears. The bass turns into a hum, and the people’s chatter dies down completely. “I love it too that you’re my best friend.” 

Suddenly, Jacob stands on his tiptoes, his grip on Sam’s waist tightening to steady him. He leans in to his ear, and whispers, “But we’re not best friends now, are we?” 

Sam pulls back, his eyes searching for some hint on Jacob’s face to reveal that he was joking and when he doesn’t find it, his heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?” 

“We’re Louis and Lestat! We’re in love!” 

Oh. Of course that’s what he meant. He forces out a chuckle.  

“That, we are.” 

He leans in once again. “Sam. Can I touch you?” 

Sam tries to fight the shivers his hot breath spreads on his body. 

“Here? On the dancefloor?” 

“I don’t mean like, touch you touch you. Just...” He lets his hands slide down his lower back to rest on his ass, his beautiful brown eyes gazing into his. “This okay?” 

Sam feels like his breath was punched out of his lungs when he nods. “Yeah. But why are you asking? We said it was okay.” 

“I know. I just wanted to make sure you’re still on board. You’re a little stiff. You need to loosen up if you want to be Lestat.” 

His gaze averts from Jacob and he nods, biting his lip. Ever since he got tipsy, he’s been a lot more vigilant, overthinking his every move, trying not to say the wrong thing at the wrong time. But Jacob is right – if he wants to be compelling as Lestat, he needs to let go and flirt with Jacob like he’s his Louis. 

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry,” Sam mumbles, looking down at his feet before he straightens his posture and pulls Jacob even closer. His hips move to the beat of the music, swaying into Jacob’s on occasion, their thighs bumping together until they find a rhythm that works. And again, Jacob stands on his tiptoes, his entire body pressing against Sam’s when he whispers into his ear again. 

“Let the bass guide you. Stop overthinking. We said what we’re okay with. You’re Lestat. What would he do?” 

Sam closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to think straight through the drowsiness of the alcohol. He can’t tell just yet if drinking was a good idea or a terrible one. His hands drop down from his neck and glide down his back, palms pressing into his muscles, all while his gaze is fixed on Jacob. He’s looking at him with his lips slightly parted, that slight red tint from the blood so enticing he can’t focus on anything else for a moment. Jacob’s lips move, but it takes a moment to pull him out of his trance. 

“Hm?” 

Jacob giggles. “I asked if you wanted another drink? Would that help you?” 

“Oh, no.” Sam chuckles, and when he looks around the crowd blurs. “I can feel it already.” 

“Oh my god!”  

Sam jerks backwards when someone bumps into him. A man, around his age, handsome, but just like all the other groupies awfully drunk. 

“The Vampire Lestat!” he slurs, and Sam forces a smile. At least he’s forcing him back into character. 

“That’s me. Can I help you?” He hates the way the man is gripping onto his shoulder, touching him just for the sake of it. 

“Can you sign my dick?” 

While Sam is taken aback by the request, he also realizes it’s an offer Lestat would never say no to. But thankfully, Jacob takes the matter into his own hands and pulls the man off of him. 

“Back off,” he hisses. “He’s mine.” 

The man just looks at him, disgusted.  

“And who the fuck made you super fan number one? You’re not any better than me.” 

“That’s Louis,” Sam manages. “He’s my eternal companion.” His gaze falls back on Jacob, making it easier to speak the words that follow. “He’s the love of my life.” 

He hears the man gasp next to him before he sees him. He points a thumb at Jacob in disbelief. “That’s Louis? He’s real?” 

“Of course I’m fucking real!” 

“Alright, man.” The man raises his hands in surrender. “Didn’t know you had a fucking boyfriend. Heard about encounters that tell a different story. Anyway, you never said no about signing my dick?” 

Sam draws his eyebrows together. “No.” 

“If you change your mind, you know where to find me!” And with that, he turns and disappears back into the crowd. They both look at each other for a couple of seconds before they burst into a laugh, Jacob steadying himself on his shoulder, fully leaning into him. 

“The fuck was that?” Sam asks, trying to contain his giggles. “Thank you for saving me. I was about to say yes.” 

“You didn’t actually want to sign that guy’s dick, right?” If Sam didn’t know any better, he’d say his voice was laced with a little hint of jealousy just now. Character bleed is getting to him too, it seems.  

“No! Of course not. But I feel like he would’ve.” 

Jacob nods, then puts his arms around his neck. “Yeah. You’re probably right about that.” 

His hands bring him closer until he rests his chin on his shoulder, his fingers absent-mindedly stroking through his hair at the nape of his neck. Sam lets his hands rest on his back, feeling his muscles move through the silk fabric of his black shirt as they sway back and forth to some explicitly sexual song definitely not meant for slow dancing.  

When he feels Jacob’s lips on his neck he freezes. It only takes a second or two for him to remember to keep moving, but it feels like forever with his hot breath against his skin. He doesn’t do anything, just rests with his mouth against him until he starts moving, one hand cradling his neck as he leaves little kisses in his wake. 

Sam draws in a shaky breath, remembers to stay in character. “Fuck, Louis...” 

The kisses grow more intense, more heated, more needy. His body is pressed flush against Sam’s, his crotch pressing into his thigh and when he rolls his hips, he can feel Jacob’s erection pressing into him. 

He’s just about to ask if he needs a break when he feels Jacob’s hot breath against his ear again. “Grab my ass, baby.” 

He trusts him, trusts his intuition, and trusts him to let him know if he was uncomfortable. So he does, letting his hands drift down his back and settle on his ass before he grabs him, pulling him impossibly closer.  

“Are you okay?” he still whispers, and only feels Jacob’s nod in response.  

Physical reactions happen sometimes. It’s rare with all the people on set, but the body can’t distinguish between reality and simulation, so sometimes, when they’ve been grinding and kissing for god knows how long, it happens. The professional thing to do in those situations is just to ignore it, and when it gets distracting, you ask for a break. But with their modesty garments, he’s only ever been aware of his own state, and it sends a jolt right through his body to know that Jacob’s been there too. 

The least he can do is remain professional. They are acting, after all. 

Jacob’s kisses grow impatient as he sucks on Sam’s skin, no doubt leaving marks. Quickly, he shakes off his own feelings and lets his intuition as Lestat guide him through the scene.  

As he tilts his head Jacob pulls back, and so it’s now Sam who dives in, kissing the skin at the crook of his neck before he trails his kisses up, letting them gradually become more and more hungry.  

His skin tastes different, and he figures that’s because his vampiric taste buds are now different. He lets his tongue wander, expecting saltiness but instead only encountering sweetness. And somehow, that encourages him further, letting him drown in the sweetness that is Jacob – Louis – before he eventually pulls back, but not without leaving one last gorgeous purple mark on his skin. 

Jacob looks at him through lidded eyes, his pupils fully blown, his fingers still caressing the nape of his neck. 

“Are we gonna –?” Sam finally asks, still breathless even though there’s really no reason to be.  

Thankfully, Jacob understands. “Yeah. Wanna find a place?” 

Sam just gives a weak nod before Jacob grabs his hand and pulls him through the crowd to the back of the venue. There’s a small metal staircase leading up to a balcony overlooking the entire place, probably reserved for a DJ, but definitely not big enough for a live performer. Behind the stairs though there’s a space the spotlights can’t reach, still vaguely illuminated but dark enough so they at least wouldn’t get accosted by drunk groupies. The plan is still to be seen, but make it look like they were trying to hide.  

Sam straightens his posture as Jacob pulls him behind the staircase and lets himself fall against the wall before he giggles, pushing himself off again.  

“I should be the one pushing you against the wall. That’s my thing.” 

Jacob is a lot drunker than Sam is, so he’s getting the pronouns confused. My thing, Louis’ thing, it all morphs into one – into the very man standing across from him with a big smile on his face. Sam can’t help it – it’s contagious. 

“What?” he asks, but Jacob just shrugs and puts his arms back around his neck, swaying to the still blaring but a little more distant music now. Sam steadies him with his hands on his waist, mindlessly pressing their bodies together. Jacob’s still in a state, he can feel it, but he tries not to pay much attention to it. Tries to ignore it so he doesn’t feel uncomfortable. 

There is no difference between this and filming, aside from the fact that they’re the ones coordinating their intimate scenes now. Louis is the love of Lestat’s life. No matter how heated their arguments got, how angry their sex got, there was always a hint of tenderness there. Sometimes from the beginning, sometimes making itself apparent throughout a scene. At the core of the show is always Lestat’s love for Louis and Louis’ love for Lestat. So now, the tenderness needs to shine through more than anything else. 

If Sam wants to be convincing as Lestat, he needs to push all his personal thoughts to the back of his mind and focus entirely on the scene. There’s no room for getting carried away like he just did on the dancefloor.  

He cradles his face like he’s the most beautiful thing, then leans in to kiss him, a chaste peck to his lips first that has Jacob chasing for more, and then he grants him more, licking along the seam of his mouth, taking his time to really taste his lips, finding that he tastes just like any other part of his skin tastes – like the sweetest, most addictive honey, and his lips haven’t always tasted like this, but always sweet, so at least he hasn’t lost that with the vampirism. 

It’d be a shame if he’d lost that. 

Jacob’s hands are in his hair and he’s tugging it gently, urging Sam to let out a tiny whimper that would part his lips so he can deepen the kiss. He doesn’t, at least not yet. But when Jacob spins them around and pushes him into the wall, he can’t help himself. It’s partially the comfort of feeling someone so close, the familiarity of Jacob, and certainly the residual alcohol in his bloodstream, but he loses himself in the kisses. His fingers clutch at Jacob’s shirt, then tangle in his curls, and now Jacob is moaning into his mouth, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine and through his body. Their tongues collide, and what once were gentle and loving kisses turn into yearning, longing, the feeling of being together once again after far too much time.  

Jacob presses his thigh between his legs, and Sam’s body submits to him fully. He lets his hands wander – from his hair down his back, taking in the dip of his small waist, then letting his hands linger just below his hips, his thumbs resting on the waistband of his jeans.  

Jacob pulls back from his mouth, trailing his kisses down his neck now, adding to the bruises he already adorned him with. Sam lets out a tiny gasp when Jacob gently nips at his skin before he soothes the bite with an open-mouthed kiss.  

“Ah- god- J-Louis-” 

Their real names should not be on his mind right now. They’re Louis and Lestat.  

“Yes, baby?” he mouths against his skin, sending more shivers right down to his groin.  

“Feels so good.” 

They’ve established sometime throughout season one that they genuinely enjoy kissing – and that includes each other. Kissing releases serotonin, and it doesn’t matter who you’re kissing. As long as it’s consensual, it’s nice. So it’s not weird that Sam is enjoying it. And saying it out loud makes perfect sense for Lestat, in case anyone’s listening in. 

His thumbs dip under the waistband of his jeans on their own volition. It feels organic in their state but it’s completely intuitive, like Sam has finally managed to tap into Lestat’s mind to act and think as he would. Jacob grinds his hips into Sam’s thigh, letting out a gasp against his lips. 

“Oh goodness, they’re about to do it under the staircase.” 

Jacob freezes, but Sam manages to pull back with a little less embarrassment on his face. After all, Lestat would be proud to show off his physical affection for Louis. Armand is standing a few feet away, his gaze scanning them skeptically, until he finally sighs and turns to Daniel who is just now emerging from the crowd. 

“We came to say goodbye. We’ll be heading back to New York tomorrow, so I suppose we won’t see each other again for a while.” 

“New York?” Sam says, surprised. He knows Lestat lives in New Orleans now, but maybe getting to New York could bring them closer to getting back home. “Can we join you? We had plans to go to New York as well.” He shoots Jacob a glance, noticing his red, kiss-swollen lips, and the purple marks he left on him. It’s Lestat speaking through him when he thinks he’s the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.  

Jacob gives a brief nod, his eyes flicking to Sam. He puts an arm around his waist, pulling him in to his side for comfort.  

“Uh...” Hesitant, Armand looks at Daniel. 

“Yeah, not to give you too many details but seeing as you were about to rip each other’s clothes off just now I think you can handle it. We hired a camper van. With beds. We were gonna have a couple of days just for us.” 

Sam can’t let this opportunity slide though, and fortunately, he doesn’t think Lestat would feel any inhibition about inviting himself on a trip.  

“Perfect!” he says. “You said beds, plural? Then you certainly have a spare one.” 

“That’s not –” Daniel lifts a finger, but trails off, then sighs. “Fine. You can come.” 

Armand gasps in shock. “But we were gonna –” 

“I know. We still have the master bedroom. It has a door. It’s gonna be fine. Besides, you don’t think they’re not gonna –” 

Sam looks at Armand with raised eyebrows, challenging him to say yes. He purses his lips, looks between him and Jacob, and finally gives a dramatic sigh. 

“Fine. Under one condition.” He holds up a finger. “I don’t want to hear you two fuck.” 

Sam pretends like that’s going to be an issue and turns to Jacob. “Can we fuck quietly, mon amour? I think we can. We had a teenaged daughter, we have lots of practice having quiet sex.” 

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t fuck at all, but I know you and I know that I can’t stop you.” 

Sam gives a forced smile. “That’s right, you can’t. Anyway.” He tightens his grip around Jacob who gives a courteous nod to Daniel and Armand. “I think we’re leaving, too. This party is not... giving us the needed space to be alone.” 

Notes:

I wanted to get this chapter out but I ran into a little bit of an issue with the next two chapters, and I have a feeling I'm gonna need to rewrite a big chunk of them. There's a chance it's gonna take me a little longer to update, but know I'm actively working on the story and it is gonna be up soon!! In the meantime, thank you so much for reading and for the kind comments <333

Next up: Sam and Jacob trapped in a camper van with Daniel and Armand for two days. What could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 5: Comfort Part 1

Notes:

What could happen when you get drunk off your prey with your best friend/co-star/person you're in love with but you're in denial about it, and you're sharing a bunk... 😱🤭

“Why the fuck did you ask to tag along?” 

Sam can’t even be mad at Jacob for being mad. As soon as they got out of the club and the cold air brought him back to his senses, he realized what an awful idea it was. Yes, on the one hand it would bring them to New York City. On the other, more important hand it means spending at least two nights under constant surveillance with two very real vampires who could kill them at any moment. Besides, Lestat probably has a private jet. If not, he has enough money to rent one. 

“They’re not gonna be in our faces 24/7,” Sam says instead of giving his tenth version of I panicked. They had this exact same conversation last night already. No need to rehash all the excuses when they can focus on some comforting delusions as they make their way to the parking lot where they’re supposed to meet Daniel and Armand. “They’re gonna be too busy fucking.” 

“Yeah, while they wonder why we’re not fucking.” 

Sam bites his lip. That’s a point he hasn’t considered yet.  

“They told us to fuck quietly. We can probably convince them we did while they were in their bedroom doing their thing.” 

Jacob huffs. “As if they’d believe it.” 

He does have a point. Armand already has his doubts, and he would probably go to lengths to confirm them. Daniel can and does go against Armand sometimes, but it’s not his judgment they fear, nor do they think he’ll be on their side if Armand does figure it out.  

“We’ll just... moan a few times while they’re not in the room. I don’t know. But I mean, is it that inconceivable not to have sex for two or three nights?” 

Sam knows the answer the moment the question leaves his mouth. It’s not just Loustat, it’s newly back together Loustat, Loustat who haven’t seen each other in a lifetime. Neither Lestat nor Louis can keep his hands off the other for a few hours, much less a few days.  

“I don’t think Louis would throw himself at Lestat first chance he gets,” Jacob begins tentatively. “Especially when there’s people around. But he loses himself. If Lestat makes advances, he’s going to forget about everything and everyone else.” 

Sam frowns. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t make advances?” A huffed out laugh escapes his lips. “Lestat, not flirty at all, can you imagine that?” 

“No.” Jacob wipes his hand across his face. “Let’s say we, or, I mean Loustat, talked about this exact thing. Louis doesn’t want to have sex with Daniel and Armand present, so Lestat has to hold himself back. If anyone asks, you tell them that. Louis wouldn’t admit it, but you would.” 

Sam contemplates it for a moment, ignoring the blatant mixing up of them and their characters, and his proposition makes sense. Sort of. “That could work. It’s the best thing we’ve come up with so far.” 

Jacob gives a brief shrug. “It has to do.” 

Sam lets out a long exhale and stops. They’re just around the corner now, and he feels like he has more things to say before they can’t talk out of character for two full days.  

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice genuine. “I wasn’t thinking. Are we okay?” 

Jacob looks at him for a moment before he sighs. “Of course. I love you, and you dragging me on a road trip with Daniel and Armand isn’t going to change that.” He stands on his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Sam in a tight embrace, and just like that, the tension in Sam’s body melts away almost fully. How many times has Rolin thrown them into the deep end, but as long as they had each other, they knew they were going to be okay. It’s the same thing now. 

“I love you too. We’re gonna be fucking phenomenal as Loustat.” 

Jacob huffs out a laugh that muffles against his neck. “Yeah. We always are. If all else fails, we’ll have to simulate it somehow. We’ll be okay.” 

Eventually, Sam is the first one to pull back, desperately trying not to think about the possibility of that happening. He looks at Jacob, one hand still on his shoulder. “Are you ready?” 

“Absolutely not. But we can do this.” 

Jacob takes hold of Sam’s hand and entwines their fingers like he always does. The touch gives him comfort, makes him feel like he can take on just about anything with Jacob by his side. 

Together, they walk around the corner to the big parking lot, straight towards an abnormally huge camper van standing right in the center of it. Despite vampires not being sensitive to temperature Sam feels like he’s shivering – it’s cold, and even though he’s wearing a wool cardigan and a leather jacket it still doesn’t seem enough. Jacob, on the other hand, found a lovely oversized jacket that on his small frame makes him look so tiny but keeps him wrapped up in his own body heat. It’s the anxiety though rather than the temperature. There’s quite literally everything on the line. 

“There you are.”  

They hear him before they see him. Armand is standing by the hood of the van, leaning against it nonchalantly with his legs crossed.  

“Took you long enough. We’ve been waiting for you.” 

Sam frowns. “You said 10 PM. It’s 9:45.” 

“Exactly. And now get in. We don’t wanna be any later than we already are.” 

As they climb in, they can still hear Armand muttering behind them.  

“I suggested we leave without you but Daniel wouldn’t have it.” 

Armand slams the door shut and Sam and Jacob awkwardly take a seat at the dining table. There are two drivers in the front; Sam assumes they are going to take turns driving. He can’t tell yet if they’re vampires, but either way this is a good sign – fewer breaks and less time spent together in this enclosure. 

“They’re not,” Armand answers, his eyes fixed on Sam like he’s trying to break right through to his soul. “But they’re our friends so we’d appreciate it if you didn’t eat them.” 

Sam raises his eyebrows but nods. Maybe Lestat would’ve come up with a witty response, but Sam needs to take everything in first. Armand’s remark is also a humbling reminder that they’re under constant surveillance. 

“There’s a special film on the windows for the sun-challenged, just like the one we had installed in the penthouse,” he explains to Jacob, the same patronizing tone he’s always had with him on the show. The perfect picture of a former couple with way too much history between them, two people desperately trying to remain cordial for the benefit of everyone else but themselves. Under any other circumstance this situation would be great for a character study, but obviously, that’s the last thing on his mind right now.  

“We are going to take breaks to hunt, once a night, one hour. Armand brought some blood bags he stole from a blood donation center, but I prefer it fresh. You can thank me for that.” 

Sam turns to Daniel and gives him a nod. He’d personally prefer the blood donation bags if he has to drink blood at all, but he knows Lestat would hunt. There’s no other option but to bite the bullet.  

“Other than that,” he continues, “master bedroom’s ours, you can have the bunks. There are no double beds I’m afraid.” 

“We’ll fit into a single bunk, right, mon amour?” He bumps into Jacob’s shoulder, sending him a loving smile that Jacob returns. 

“Of course. We prefer to share a coffin anyway, so this won’t be an issue.” 

“Great.” Armand rolls his eyes. 

The bunk beds are behind a blackout privacy curtain. It’s not a separate room; they’re right behind the dining table where they were sitting just a moment ago, one above the big off-white leather couch, another one above the flatscreen TV mounted to the wall. Sam wouldn’t normally insist on sharing a single bed with Jacob, but for one, it would be odd for Louis and Lestat to sleep on opposite sides of the room, and two, it’s good to have him close for comfort. Even though it’s already been three days in this universe, it’s not any less distressing. Jacob is quite literally his comfort person – his only comfort in all of this.  

When Sam was little, he couldn’t go to sleep without a stuffed animal pressed close to his chest. His favorite was a little blue elephant he still keeps somewhere in his apartment, tucked away in some box with old childhood photographs and mementos. At boarding school, he couldn’t afford being seen hugging anything in his sleep, much less a stuffed animal. He was already a misfit, preferring theater over rugby like most of his classmates, so there was no chance he’d make matters worse by painting himself a target to the bullies. But even then, he kept an extra pillow an arm’s length away from him just in case he couldn’t fall asleep. 

He likes to think that’s where his need for physical comfort comes from. It’s not like he’s all over his friends constantly – he’s not even sure he likes that kind of affection, never really having craved it from his previous partners. But there’s something about Jacob that makes him different in all this. Maybe it’s his overtly physical nature. Physical touch is his love language and he makes no secret of it, always a hand on Sam’s thigh, or on his shoulder when he laughs a little too hard at a joke he said, or reaching out to fix his hair when they’re in the middle of a conversation. Having Jacob close makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, like someone wrapping a blanket around him and telling him everything’s going to be okay. His presence alone calms his anxiety, makes his fears and worries disappear because life can’t be shit as long as they’re together. 

Down the hallway, there’s a sliding door, presumably leading into the master bedroom. Sam tries to curb his curiosity before he reminds himself he can be nosy – it’s perfectly on brand for Lestat. 

Putting on his best attempt at the trademark Lestat Walk, he struts to the door, slides it open and takes a step in, ignoring Daniel clearing his throat behind him. 

“That’s our private area.” 

“Hm, yeah. I figured,” he says without looking at him, admiring the room. The back wall is clad with dark wood paneling, two lamps hanging off the sides of it above the king-sized bed in the center. Two shrubby houseplants, one in either corner for a pop of elevating the room from sad and muddy to a lovely forest aesthetic. The moonlight shines in through the open window, casting a silver film on everything, making it look even more mature than the minimalist design already did. It’s definitely a Dubai penthouse 2.0, and intuitively he knows Daniel left it up to Armand to pick out the furnishing.  

He ignores the big, transparent plastic box filled to the brim with sex toys, but notes that’s probably the reason Daniel signaled for him not to enter. 

No, he can’t ignore it. Lestat wouldn’t ignore it. Raising his eyebrows, he nods towards the box.  

“Gonna have some fun later?” He turns back to face Daniel and smirks. “Can we borrow some?” 

He’d rather die than use one of Daniel and Armand’s sex toys, but he has to tease him somehow.  

“Actually, Louis told me you’re embarrassingly vanilla in bed so I don’t think you’ll need them.” 

Sam gasps in mock offense. Daniel knows how to clap back, he has to give him that. “Louis!” he calls out to Jacob. “Did you tell him I was embarrassingly vanilla in bed?” 

Chuckling, Jacob comes up to him and slides his arm around his waist. “I said no such thing!” 

“When our bodies collided, Lestat was never capable of handling me roughly,” Daniel mocks Louis’ voice. “No matter if we were fighting or loving each other, in those moments he was the most tender, the most loving man I’d ever known. Even hate sex turned into gentle lovemaking in a matter of seconds.” 

Jacob purses his lips. “Okay, fine, I did say that.” 

“Nothing about this says I’m vanilla though,” Sam argues with a raised finger.  

“It’s okay, baby.” Jacob squeezes his side as he looks at him, still chuckling. “I love it. Even if we only do it in missionary.” 

“I want to look at your beautiful face! How else am I supposed to see you when you –” 

“Are you done?” 

Their gazes snap back to Daniel and they nod in unison.  

“My apologies,” Sam says. “It’s hard to remember there are other people in the room when I’m with Louis.” 

“I can see that.” Daniel’s expression borders on disturbed. “How come you two are even worse than you were a couple of days ago?” He motions between them. “What happened that pushed you into this intense... honeymoon phase you should’ve had over eighty years ago?” 

“The tour is over,” Sam explains like it’s the most obvious thing. 

“Lestat’s tour is over,” Jacob repeats. “We finally have time to focus on each other. We missed each other, Daniel. You must understand, we haven’t been with each other in a lifetime. And now we can finally be together. Publicly. Do you have any idea what that does to vampires as old as us? Who’ve gone through so much oppression to hide who we really are, and now we are granted eternity together in complete freedom while still making up for the time we lost.” 

“Yeah,” Daniel retorts. “I do have an idea. You seem to be forgetting I’m an old man too who’s lived through some shit.” 

Sam grips onto Jacob as the van starts moving and Armand joins them, a glass of blood in his hand.  

“Fancy a drink?” 

“I’m gonna wait for the hunt later,” Sam says with a hand on his stomach as if it was a genuine offer. “Hunger makes the blood taste better. Why don’t we test our bunk bed, love?” He turns to Jacob, telling him through eye contact to say yes even though there’s no reason he’d say no. 

“Sure. We can take a nap. This is going to be a long ride.” 

 

* 

 

After the hunt, Sam and Jacob settle back in their bunk. They shared a kill tonight – a man, drunk and wandering around the middle of nowhere, begging for an easeful death. He would’ve died of hypothermia or dehydration anyway in a matter of hours. The kill was mercy. But the amount of alcohol in the victim’s blood system makes their heads spin and forget about the tragedy, as they constantly bump into each other by accident and can’t keep their giggles contained. 

“No, you have to put your leg between mine.” Sam holds his leg up as he lies on his side, sandwiching Jacob between his thighs as he follows the proposal. “See? Better. We’re making perfect use of our limited space.” Sam beams like he’s just figured out the secret to sharing the tiny bunk bed, and maybe, he did. 

“What are we doing?” Jacob giggles. His head is resting on Sam’s biceps, his hand on his chest. They’re completely intertwined under the fluffy blanket, and frankly, Sam wouldn’t have it any other way.  

“Keeping each other warm.” 

Jacob’s chuckle turns into a laugh. “We don’t feel temperature though! Did you forget?”  

“Then why do I feel warmer when I’m with you?” 

Even through his drunken haze he knows he said a bit too much. It’s not a lie, but Jacob doesn’t need to know that. He brings Sam’s hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it. Kissing sounds – smart! Sam grabs Jacob’s hand and kisses it, too. 

It’s silent for a few moments. A minute or two pass, with the only sound being the distant voices of Daniel and Armand having a heated discussion in the bedroom and the sound of the road around them. 

“I’m so comfortable when I’m with you,” Sam finally doubles down, one hand cupping Jacob’s cheek, his thumb stroking down his side, then along his jawline. His lips are still slightly red from the prey.  

“Me too,” Jacob says, and only then does Sam realize he’s been staring. He pulls his gaze back up to his eyes. There’s a shift, like they’re not talking in character anymore, all while maintaining their silly accents. “Are you still scared?” 

Sam shakes his head. “Not anymore. Thanks to you.” 

Jacob lets out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I bet the alcohol helped.” 

“Probably.” 

Silence for another moment. Tension so thick you could cut a knife through it.  

“Is it weird that I like doing this?” Sam looks between both of them. “For comfort?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Being yours.” He can’t say pretending to be. Can’t even think it. They might be listening in. “Holding you too. All of it, really.” 

“Not weird.” Jacob shakes his head and gives him an encouraging smile. “I do, too.” He bites his lip, his gaze flicking down before it flicks back up again to meet his eyes.  

Sam knows exactly what this would look like if anyone saw them. Two people, taking up the space of one. He lets his hand drop down from his face, suddenly all too aware of the implications.  

“Can I – can I try something?” Jacob suddenly says. 

Sam frowns, confused. “Sure. Go for it.” 

Jacob’s fingers graze his face as he cups his cheek, letting it linger for a moment. Then he leans in, inch by inch, and presses his lips to Sam’s.  

It’s a gentle, barely there brush of lips against lips, but it makes Sam’s heart threaten to jump right out of his chest. Something about that kiss just now felt so intimate; he’s never been kissed like this before.  

“Is this okay?” he whispers, his breath falling hot against Sam’s lips. He just nods, too weak to say anything, and so Jacob kisses him again, harder this time, longer, still chaste and gentle but like they’re the only people in the world right now.  

The kisses make his heart skip and his body relax at the same time. He can’t explain what’s going on, too drunk to think straight, too focused on Jacob’s lips on his to have the capacity to think about anything else. They trade lazy kisses, and just like they started they slow again until Jacob rests his head against Sam’s shoulder and pulls him closer with his arms around his waist.  

“Comfort,” he just says. 

“Hm?”  

“There’s something so comforting about kissing the only person I trust in this universe.” 

Jacob is right. Sam felt it too – feels it still despite his fast pulse making him breathless. He turns his head and presses a kiss to the top of Jacob’s head and leaves his face there, lets his curls tickle his skin, breathes him in because he really is the only person he trusts in this entire world. 

Notes:

Hope you liked the ending hehe 🤭 This was a short one, the next chapter will be a lot longer! Ty for reading <333

Chapter 6: Comfort Part 2

Notes:

Sorry for the delay again! Life has been pretty stressful lately. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this longer chapter, it gets. Um. A little unhinged there at the end 🤭

They are curled up together on the couch when Daniel and Armand emerge out of their bedroom. Sam has his legs drawn up to his chest and Jacob’s resting his head against his shoulder, his fingers playing with a strand of Sam’s blond hair, his other wrapped mindlessly around him.  

The bunk did get a little tight once the buzz started to wear off, and so they decided to make use of the fact that Daniel and Armand were busy and cuddle up in the living area. Obsessively, Sam scrolls through his phone to get his mind off of everything he’s not allowed to think of. It doesn’t help that it’s all he wants to think about.  

There are tactics to deal with the mind infiltrator Armand, certainly. He knows Armand still has a soft spot for Louis, so he could lean into that, be all over Jacob, have Jacob be all over him, be a little too much and have him hesitate to read his mind. Of course, there’s also the risk of this backfiring. Of Armand still infiltrating his brain and realizing it’s all a hoax. Speaking of hoaxes – he shouldn’t be thinking about that. 

His eyes focus back on the phone screen, trying to familiarize himself with the posts Lestat apparently posted on his Instagram account. Sam can’t lie – social media still terrifies him, and seeing the tens of thousands of comments under his half nude images proclaiming they want to lick him doesn’t exactly help the matter. Even though it’s Lestat, they still share the same body, and even though he technically knows people go insane for Lestat, it’s still weird seeing that attitude attached to his own image. 

Maybe he shouldn’t be critiquing social media in his mind either. He’s not sure how Lestat feels about social media as they never delved deep into this topic on the show, but he’s sure he would be flattered about all the comments calling him the sexiest man on the planet. Lestat is a very complex thing after all – sexualized from his childhood, continuing to promote this part of himself like it’s the only thing that can save him. It’s tragic really, to think that – 

No. No looking at Lestat from an outside perspective. He is Lestat, and if Armand is infiltrating his brain right now, he’s a dead man. 

So what does he think about? What does Lestat think about? 

That’s easy. Louis. It’s always Louis. Except the Louis next to him is Jacob and Jacob just kissed him half an hour ago. 

It’s the pink elephant paradox. When someone tells you not to think of a pink elephant, what do you picture in your mind? 

But Jacob is Louis. Maybe if he tries to substitute his name for Louis in his mind, he can think of Jacob without getting caught.  

“Who’s Jacob?” Armand asks suddenly, bringing his heart almost to a stop. His gaze flicks up to the two vampires approaching them, and he forces himself into character. “Do I sense a third person between you two? Is that what’s causing this rift?” 

“There is no rift,” Jacob – Louis – assures, tightening his grip around Sam and shooting Armand a tight-lipped smile. “Jacob is no one that should concern you.” 

“Jacob is...” Sam begins, trying to lean into Lestat’s mindset, “a groupie that I fucked recently. Very handsome. Great kisser.” 

“I granted Lestat... certain freedoms when he was on tour,” Jacob continues, but Armand interrupts him in that eerily calm and detached tone of his. 

“Do you realize he still thinks about him? I wasn’t even listening in, but his thoughts are loud. I’m just telling you because despite everything I still care about you, Louis.” 

“Bullshit,” Jacob spits and leans forward, his eyes boring into Armand. “You care about me? If you cared about me you wouldn’t have done half the shit you did to me! And I know exactly what you’re doing. You can’t stand the thought that someone moved on without you. You can’t stand that someone doesn’t choose you because you’re fucked up and you lied to them for eighty years! And as if that wasn’t enough, you killed their daughter!” 

“It was seventy-seven years!” Armand counters like it makes a difference. “But I never hurt you! I saved you from yourself time and time again! Isn’t that worth something?” 

“I would’ve rather died than spent fifty more years with you!” 

“I didn’t let you because I loved you! I’m the reason you’re sitting here now drooling over Lestat while he thinks of some other man and you still think he’s the love of your life when I’ve never been unfaithful to you!” 

“He wasn’t unfaithful to me! Besides, take one look at yourself. You would’ve jumped at the chance to be with Lestat if he’d just asked! Oh right, but he never did!” 

Armand scoffs and rolls his eyes. Sam and Daniel just exchange a glance, silently agreeing to remain bystanders until they literally start to rip each other to shreds. Daniel shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“I have a very complex past with Lestat, and you don’t get to negate that.” 

At that comment, Sam can’t hold back his scoff, once again protective over his character. “Half of which you imagined, but sure.” 

Thankfully, both Jacob and Armand decide to ignore him.  

“A week with your high school crush who denied your affections, sure that sounds exactly like my thirty-year-long marriage with him.” 

“Thirty years, that’s laughable. That’s the equivalent of about three years in human terms.” 

“So what’s a week then? An hour? If you want to calculate time in human terms.” 

Armand just stares at him, his eyes narrowed. He purses his lips, Sam guesses it’s a tactic to compose himself a little. Jacob uses the moment of silence to keep going. 

“You’re still so hung up on him you’re trying to break us apart. You have to ruin everything around you just because you’re miserable. I chose him, and I’ll continue to choose him until the sun explodes and burns this planet to ashes. There’s nothing you could possibly say to change that.” 

A silent gasp falls from Sam’s lips. He knows he’s talking about Louis and Lestat, but his performance is so compelling that for a moment Sam finds himself wondering if he’s blurring the lines between their characters too. Everything’s blurry, has been blurry for the past hour or so since they lay in bed tangled up, sharing languid kisses even though nobody was watching. What the hell were they thinking? It was the alcohol that made them do it, had to be because if it wasn’t, what was it then? The longing for comfort, like Jacob claimed? Maybe it was that, too. A relationship growing more intimate because you only have each other. Jacob is his everything, now – his co-star, his best friend, his lover, his fledgling, his faith and comfort, the only one keeping him from falling apart. 

“Are you guys done, or –?” Daniel motions between Armand and Jacob, pulling him out of his thoughts again. His voice sounds annoyed. Anyone would be if their partner was loudly proclaiming his jealousy and yearning for another man sat just across from him. 

“I don’t know, are you?” Jacob challenges, looking right into Armand’s big amber eyes. He presses his lips into a straight line and finally huffs before he looks at Daniel with a forced smile. 

“For you, my dear.” 

“Wow. I feel special,” Daniel says sarcastically. As they retreat back into the bedroom and forcefully slide the door shut, their muffled arguing continues. Sam sighs, leaning back on the couch, feeling his muscles relax a little.  

“Do you think we ruined their couples’ trip?” 

Jacob huffs out a laugh. “Nah. You know there’s not a single couple more dysfunctional and fucked up than those two.” 

He does have a point. Sam lets his head fall against the backrest, his eyes focusing on a dark spot on the ceiling. For a minute, neither of them speaks. 

“You were incredible just now,” Sam finally says as his mind starts replaying what just happened. “The way you argued back. One of the best performances I’ve ever seen.” 

“Who says it was a performance?” Jacob asks, his eyebrows raised to match his teasing tone. Sam can’t help but smile back. 

“I know you hate the guy. It must be really cathartic to let it all out. Say it directly to his face.” 

“I’ll admit it kind of was. But it did feel like something Louis would have done.” 

“Oh, absolutely. You were him.” 

Jacob smiles, his cheeks blushing lightly at the compliment. “Thanks. That’s good to hear.” 

For a moment they just look at each other, smiling, and for a split second it looks like Jacob’s eyes flick down to his lips but before they can linger he meets his eyes again. But then, Jacob’s smile turns into a grin. 

“Tell me, mon cher,” he whispers, his voice teasing. “About that Jacob guy you fucked? Very handsome? A good kisser? Mhmm, he sounds like quite a catch.” 

Sam feels his cheeks flush and chuckles, averting his gaze. “Bastard. You’re not gonna let me live that one down, are you?” 

“Depends,” Jacob says with an innocent shrug. 

“On?” No matter how hard Sam tries, he can’t contain his smile. 

“If you were telling the truth. I happen to know for a fact you didn’t fuck him, but is he very handsome? And a good kisser?” 

He chuckles again and shoves his shoulder lightly, his eyes focusing on anything but Jacob’s face. “Fuck you. I’m not going to answer that.” 

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” Jacob beams. 

Sam rolls his eyes playfully and laughs, his heart skipping a beat. “You’re impossible.” 

 

* 

 

It’s completely silent in the camper van, the only sound the windy morning outside. Daniel and Armand are asleep – Sam can hear Daniel’s light snoring, and when he focuses to listen in to their thoughts, there’s absolutely nothing he can pick up. At last, some peace and quiet. 

He didn’t even realize how exhausting it was listening to Daniel and Armand’s constant bickering. Armand unhappy with Daniel’s boots on the couch, Daniel annoyed with Armand controlling his every move. And then, the jealousy that left them stoically silent in front of Sam and Jacob only to pick the fight back up in the bedroom. 

Sam is positive they did ruin their couples’ adventure, even if they didn’t mean to. But now they’re stuck here for one more day, so they might as well make the best of it.  

Jacob shifts next to him, turning from his position as the little spoon to face him. His eyelids are closed, but his breathing isn’t even. He’s awake. 

“Hey,” Sam whispers, his fingers brushing over his face, gently grazing his stubble. “Can’t sleep either?” 

Sleepily, he shakes his head and lets his eyelids flutter open.  

Sam nods lightly in the vague direction of the bedroom. “They’re asleep. We can talk.” 

Jacob lifts his head to look in the direction Sam nodded in. After a few moments he sighs and lets himself flop back down on the bed.  

“It’s been a lot.” 

It’s the first time he lets himself speak in his own accent again since they got here, and it’s only when Sam hears it that he realizes how much he missed it. It’s different on set – they slip in and out of accents, and it’s not a big deal if they mess up. Here, they really need to stay focused at all times.  

“It has been,” Sam agrees. “I miss home. I miss Rani. I was supposed to be on my flight back tonight.” 

“Yeah, me too,” Jacob breathes. “I miss my family.” 

Sam bites his lip and looks down. Of course he does. Sam knows he has a family, knows he loves his family. There’s no reason for him to feel like the word family stabbed him in the heart. 

“I miss my girls.” 

“Do you miss her?” 

Sam regrets the question the moment he asked it. He knows the answer. Obviously, he misses his wife. Even if he never mentions her, even if he mostly just talks about his kids, his wife is part of his family and will remain part of his family. But it’s a normal thing to ask your best friend, so why does he so desperately want to take it back, pretend he never asked it and move on, make up a fantasy world in which she doesn’t exist and he doesn’t have to feel guilty about wishing that she didn’t? 

After a moment of agonizing silence, Jacob finally answers. “Does it make me a bad person if I don’t?” 

“Huh?” Sam doesn’t know what to think. He was so certain his answer would be a clear yes that he’s taken aback by his honesty, unprepared for this kind of response. “No, of course that doesn’t make you a bad person. But why?” 

Jacob shakes his head and averts his gaze. Sam can’t quite make out what it is, but he doesn’t want to talk about it.  

“Why does it matter? We’re stuck. I’m starting to think we’re not getting back anytime soon. Let’s not talk about her when I’m with you. I left that stuff at home and I’ll take care of it when we get back.” 

Sam offers Jacob a soft, comforting smile that he returns. A masochistic part of him wants to push the issue, ask him about her until his heart bleeds, but a much bigger and more selfish part is relieved. At least here, he gets to live out his fantasy of her not existing. 

Jacob’s hand finds Sam’s under the covers and he laces their fingers together and brings it up to press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“I love you. I really mean it when I say I couldn’t do this without you.” 

Sam’s smile grows for a moment until it drops again. He shifts, tries to listen for Daniel and Armand and is thankfully only met with silence. There’s one burning question he hasn’t been able to ask and it’s beginning to eat him up. It’s definitely not the time or place to ask it, but he needs to get it off his chest. And he doesn’t know when he’ll get the opportunity again. 

“Hey,” Jacob says softly, bringing his hand up to cup his cheek and stroke his thumb against it soothingly. As always, he sees right through him. “What’s wrong?” 

Sam’s first instinct is to brush it off, but he finally sighs. It’s Jacob. He can ask him anything. 

“Why did you kiss me earlier?” 

Jacob bites his lip and averts his gaze. “Sam, I’m sorry, I didn’t –” 

“No,” Sam interrupts. “I don’t want you to apologize. I told you it was fine. I just want to know why... what it... what it meant.” 

There is a long moment in which Jacob doesn’t speak. Sam can tell he’s thinking about his answer, maybe trying to come up with wordings that convey exactly what he’s thinking. Or maybe, he’s trying to come up with an excuse. 

“Please be honest. No matter what the reason is. It’s fine. I need us to be honest with each other.” 

He looks up at him and sighs, then nods a few times, maybe to hype himself up. “It’s going to make me look like an asshole, but you’re right. I owe you an honest answer. It’s... completely selfish, but I wasn’t lying about it. Your closeness gives me comfort. Being close to you, in... every way possible, makes me feel less like we’re all gonna die and this is the end of it. I wanted to see if that made it better. And it did. It feels good. Takes my mind off of things. Makes me feel like I’m not falling apart for once in my life.” 

Sam just looks at him, trying to make sense of the words. And yes, there’s something about it, some aspects that Sam relates to. The comfort and familiarity of it all. The way they can be anything to each other, whatever they need in that moment.  

“I’m sorry, Sam,” he says again, and before Sam can protest he holds up a finger, silencing him. “I know, don’t apologize. But I should’ve been completely honest with you from the beginning. I’m sorry I just took what I needed.” 

“Like I said, it’s okay,” Sam reiterates, his throat dry. “I get it. It did feel comforting to me too. And you know what, fuck it.” He forces a laugh. “We’re gonna get out of here, but we have no way of knowing when, or how. I’d rather us blur the lines a little bit than have us go insane while we figure it out.” 

Jacob huffs out a laugh, relief clear in his voice. “I know it’s weird. If you think about it too hard, it’s really fucking weird. But if it works for us?” His voice goes up, turning the sentence into an insecure question. Sam swallows and nods. 

“Yeah. To be fair all of this is weird, so, what does it matter?” 

“Exactly,” Jacob exhales, his eyes locked on Sam’s lips. Sam’s gaze flicks down to his mouth, too, but neither of them makes the first move. It’s ridiculous – they literally just discussed that they are perfectly comfortable with this exact thing. But acting on it still feels exposing. 

“Should we try to sleep? It’s late – or, early, I suppose.” 

Jacob nods and tears his gaze back up to meet his eyes. “Yeah.”  

Tentatively, he wraps his arms around Sam, but once Sam pulls him closer he feels him relax under his touch. Sam looks at him again and he can’t resist, his heart racing when he leans in and pecks his lips gently. 

“Good night, Jake.” 

Jacob smiles, and for the first time since they found themselves in this universe, his face shows no hint of anxiety at all. 

 

* 

 

Sam wakes up to a row of odd sounds.  

His head snaps to Jacob immediately, releasing a breath of relief when he finds him huddled up under the duvet, his chest rising and falling steadily, his lips slightly parted. He looks younger like this, no worry lines on his face. For a moment it almost feels like they’re back at Sam’s place and he’s just spending the night, sleeping off the exhaustion from staying up way too late watching a movie from Sam’s long list of arthouse horror recommendations. But if he’s not making the noise, then what is –? 

Oh. Oh. Just as the realization hits, there’s a moan to confirm it. 

Daniel and Armand are most definitely awake. And they are most definitely making good use of the toys they brought with them. 

Sam’s eyes widen in shock and for a moment he just stares at the ceiling, wondering if he can somehow shut his hearing off for a while. He doesn’t want to wake Jacob, but upon the next, much louder moan, he shifts and his eyelids flutter open.  

“Hey,” he says, his voice low from sleep, a soft smile on his lips. He hasn’t realized yet what’s going on. There’s no good way to break it to him. 

“Daniel and Armand are fucking,” he whisper-shouts, pointing his thumb in the vague direction of the bedroom. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Jacob blinks, and Sam can see how his brain processes the information before he finally bursts into a laugh. 

“It’s not funny,” Sam protests but can’t hold back his own laugh. An obscene whimper sounds from the bedroom, and Jacob makes a face. 

“God, they’re loud. Weren’t they arguing last night?” 

“They were.” 

There’s a moment of silence before there’s another moan, some muffled words accompanying it that Sam thankfully can’t quite make out.  

“Well, on a positive note,” Sam begins, not quite sure there even is a positive note to all this, “as long as they’re busy with each other they won’t bother us.” 

A hum of agreement from Jacob and then it’s quiet again until there’s another moan. Sam grabs the pillow from under him and presses it into his face, groaning. He hears Jacob’s muffled laugh, and then he pulls the pillow off his face. 

“Sam, don’t suffocate yourself. I need you.” 

“We need to drown them out. Do we put on a film?” 

“Sure.” Jacob shrugs.  

As soon as they hop down the ladder, Sam grabs the remote and puts on the first thing he can find, not caring at all what it is, just wanting something that’s louder than them. It’s the Great British Bake Off, and Sam gives Jacob a smile at the irony of it. Jacob would put it on for background noise when Sam first visited him in London after the filming of season one. Soon, it became their comfort show even though neither of them is particularly into baking, but there’s just something about it that reminds them of the early time they spent together. And after thinking about it for a while, he figures Lestat could find some intrigue in a show portraying lavish pastry he’d never be able to taste. 

Still, they don’t watch it, not actively, just like they never do when they hang out. Sam puts his arm on the backrest behind Jacob, his thumb gently brushing against his shoulder. He could place his arm around him, no one would bat an eye. But is it too self-indulgent?  

They’re okay with kissing, for God’s sake. An arm around Jacob won’t kill them. 

“What’s wrong?” Jacob asks, his fingers mindlessly drifting up his leg to squeeze his thigh in comfort. “You’re in your head again, I can tell.” 

Sam averts his gaze for a second, letting out a sigh. He can’t hide in front of him. 

“Honest?” 

Jacob makes a face. “Of course.” 

“I’m overthinking my every move. What’s okay and what’s not. I don’t want you to think I’m making advances at you just because I’m – we’re –” He sighs, not knowing how to put his thoughts into words. With the hand that’s not on the backrest, he gestures around the van. “All this. You know?” 

Jacob lowers his voice to a whisper when he speaks. “Sam. Our situation’s fucked up. It makes us do things – say things – we probably wouldn’t in our old lives. But if that’s what keeps us from going insane?” 

Sam thinks about it for a moment, then finally nods. He was the one who said it’s better to blur the lines a little, and he meant it. He’d rather just go with the flow and figure out whatever this is when they get back.  

“Just promise me one thing,” he says, nervous to hear the answer. “Promise me this won’t get in the way of our friendship. We have to talk about the possibility of one of us – I don’t know.” He looks down at his nails, inspecting them instead of looking at Jacob. “I’m saying there’s a statistical chance that what we’re doing could lead to feelings, you know? I couldn’t stand losing you.” 

A part of him wonders if it’s not already too late for that, but he quickly pushes it to the back of his mind.  

“We’ll figure it out,” Jacob promises, his soft voice soothing his worries a little. “I know this could get messy. But it’s us we’re talking about. I trust us. Whatever happens, I’m always going to be your friend. You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.” 

He cracks a smile and Sam can’t help but smile back. Jacob’s fingers wrap around his hand on his lap and he squeezes it.  

“When it happens we’ll deal with it together, just like we always do. We’ll figure it out together.” 

“When?” Sam asks instinctively before he even processed what that means for them. But Jacob squints at him, his nose scrunched and a smile on his face. 

“If,” he says. “And now put your arm around me like I know you want to.” 

 

* 

 

Sam tries not to think too much about it. It’s ironic how they’re doing it for comfort and the more he thinks about what they’re doing, the more it stresses him out. How would he deal with it if he caught feelings for Jacob? Would he tell him? Would he hope he reciprocates his feelings? Would they risk getting into a relationship? 

It’s good to know Jacob sees it the same way. They’re best friends first and foremost, and Sam doesn’t care if it seems naive to think they can always fall back on that if things don’t work out. It’s not like catching feelings would be completely impossible in their old lives either – they still play a couple, albeit in a more controlled environment. The risk is still there. It’s not like they can completely avoid it. 

When Sam put his arm around him, Jacob rested his head on his shoulder and they’re still sitting in that position now, half an hour later. It’s also high time Daniel and Armand emerge from their bedroom, so they better look like the most in love couple they’ve ever witnessed. 

Sam turns his head and nuzzles his face into Jacob’s hair, pressing a kiss into it, making Jacob look up with a smile on his lips. For a moment they just look at each other, and it’s only when Jacob leans in to press a gentle kiss to Sam’s lips that he realizes he was smiling too. 

Should kissing your best friend feel this electric? It’s a thought that rushes through Sam’s mind for a split of a second before he gives in to his wants, his hands cradling Jacob’s face as he kisses him back, letting the sensation spread tingles all over his entire body. Somewhere, in the depths of his mind, something’s screaming at him that it’s already too late, it already happened, but in the moment he ignores it and focuses entirely on Jacob. 

Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. His Jake. His best friend, his partner in everything, the one he trusts the most, the one he loves more than anyone else in this world. It’s absurd that they’re kissing, but minds on the verge of insanity have come up with crazier things, surely. 

“Alright, keep it in your pants.”  

Armand’s voice makes them pull away as if they’ve been caught doing something they’re not supposed to, but Sam quickly catches himself and tightens his grip around Jacob’s shoulder and crosses one leg over the other to force himself into character.  

“I would say the same thing to you but it seems like it’s too late for that.” 

“It’s our trip,” he reminds him, already sounding annoyed despite being out of the room for two seconds. He glances at the TV and frowns. “A baking competition? Are you catching up on the culinary knowledge you missed out on from drinking blood for 265 years?” 

“I’m flattered that you remember my exact age,” he bites back, getting defensive over his character once again. 

“Where’s Daniel?” Jacob asks, probably to defuse the situation a little. Armand glances back at the bedroom door.  

“He’s resting. Even as a vampire, he still gets exhausted by what we do in the –” 

Sam raises his hands to stop him. “We don’t need to know the details. We heard enough.” 

“Good. Now you know how we feel,” he just says flatly and takes a seat on the far end of the couch. Sam doesn’t mention that an occasional kiss isn’t the same as them fucking with just a flimsy door between them. “Daniel and I talked last night.” 

Sam and Jacob huff out a laugh at the same time. Talked is certainly one way to put it. Armand ignores them, though. 

“He made me realize that I wasn’t being entirely fair to him. Lestat...” 

Sam blinks, realizing a second too late that he’s referring to him. “Hm?” 

“What happened between us is in the past. I want you to understand that.” 

“Yes. I’m not the one who got confused about the duration of our week-long fling.” 

Armand glares at him, but finally moves on to Jacob.  

“And Louis. What happened between us was truly unfortunate.” 

Jacob huffs again and Sam doesn’t even need to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

“We’re going to leave you be, from now on. If you want to fight, you’re permitted to. If you want to... do anything else, do it out of eye and earshot from us.” 

“A courtesy you will not grant us in return, got it,” Sam says, nodding in fake appreciation.  

Armand glares at him again. “We still have a very long time left in this van, we’re just trying to make it agreeable for everyone. And I think we agreed on you not fucking, and if you absolutely must you agreed to do it quietly.” 

All Sam can think about is how Lestat would drag Louis into their bunk and they’d fuck as loud as they can just to spite Armand. He can’t allow himself to think about the logistics of fake-fucking Jacob in case Armand is listening in to his thoughts, so his brain just imagines it for real instead, making him spiral into a panic. Desperately, he tries to think of anything else, but his brain keeps coming back to the image of Jacob, naked, pinned underneath him. With a huff he gets up and grabs Jacob’s hand, only letting go when they climb up the ladder. 

There are so many things he wants to say, from fuck, I don’t know what just happened to I’m sorry I just imagined you naked, I didn’t mean to, I panicked. Jacob just raises his eyebrows at him and nods in question, and it’s clear what he wants to say.  

Lestat’s next move is obvious. It doesn’t take a lot of thought to know he would not just sulk in bed. 

Sam gives a brief nod, mouthing, is this okay? Jacob nods again, an encouraging smile on his lips.  

They’re in this together. They’ve also simulated sex a fair number of times, so at least they sort of know what they’re going to do. But then, Jacob takes off his shirt. 

What are you doing? Sam mouths. Jacob widens his eyes and shoots a glance in the direction of the curtain, where the TV is still playing right below them. And sure, if anyone were to see them, it’d be weird if they were fully clothed. Still, he doubts Armand would venture to pull back the curtain if he heard their moans. 

With a nod, Sam takes off his own shirt too, tossing it on the bed and then Jacob’s already scooting over to him and kissing him passionately, humming into the kiss and sending the vibrations straight down Sam’s spine. 

Jacob pulls Sam on top of him, the duvet covering them from the waist down. Sam pulls back from the kiss only to continue kissing up the side of his neck so he can whisper in his ear. 

“We’re gonna have to be loud, mon cher.” 

He adds the term of endearment just in case, but as Armand raises the volume of the TV, he’s certain he’s not trying to listen in. Although with him, you never know.  

Jacob moans in response and Sam mirrors him, ignoring what the sound does to his body. They’re professionals. This is acting.  

Straddling Jacob but leaving enough space between them, he gives a tentative thrust and sure enough – the bunk squeaks just like he hoped it would. A triumphant smile spreads on his lips that Jacob returns, both relieved their plan has the potential to work. 

“Turn around,” Sam says, aiming for a demanding but gentle tone. Jacob looks up at him with a frown, and Sam quickly shakes his head. No, stay, I’m just acting, he mouths, making Jacob giggle. A lovely sound that he silences with a kiss.  

Another thrust, slamming the bedframe against the wall, and they both moan in unison. This is perfect. They’re perfect.  

Sam is trying hard not to bump into Jacob when he thrusts, but it happens with the limited space above them. Sam can barely sit up without banging his head against the ceiling, so there’s not much distance they can keep as they’re fake-fucking. 

Jacob moans again. “Baby,” he pants. “Right there.” 

It sounds shockingly real, but before Sam can think too much about it, the reality of the situation catches up to him and he bites back a laugh. It would look ridiculous, seeing them like this – Sam, carefully straddling Jacob, holding on to the bedframe, and Jacob, underneath him, moaning when he’s not even really touching him. Still, as absurd as the situation is, he can’t help but think Jacob is the most gorgeous man, and for a second his brain wanders into unholy territory, wondering if this is what he really looks like during sex. 

With practiced skill he pushes the thought to the back of his mind and focuses on what he’s doing – the rhythmic thrusts, accompanied by moans, a kiss to Jacob’s neck, a kiss to his mouth that before he knows it turns into tongues gliding against one another. They don’t have to go so hard for it; there’s no one here to see them. But he doesn’t pull back, just lets it happen organically because selfishly enough, it feels too good to stop it.  

“Oh, chéri,” he breathes against Jacob’s spit-slick lips. “I missed you so much.” 

He stilled when he said it, only to have Jacob panting against his ear. “I missed you too. Keep going.” 

He’s affected, he can’t help it. Once again, his body can’t tell simulation apart from reality. 

When he thrusts again, he accidentally thrusts against Jacob, and the moan that escapes his lips is real this time. In panic he stares at Jacob wide-eyed even though it really isn’t that big of a deal, it happened to Jacob too the other night, except now they don’t have the excuse of alcohol in their veins or any other circumstance that’s out of their control. 

Jacob throws his arms around his neck and pulls him in, bringing his lips close to his ear. “It’s okay, love,” he whispers, his hands gliding from his neck down his back to rest on his hips. Involuntarily, Jacob jerks against him and he can feel his erection too, seeking friction on his thigh. 

He shoots him an apologetic look and loosens his grip, giving Sam enough space to shake the bed without touching him again.  

It takes a few more minutes for Sam to notice the odd silence – the TV has been turned off, and when he focuses, he can sense Daniel and Armand at a distance. Just to be safe, he still leans down to whisper into Jacob’s ear, his crotch pressing against Jacob’s, eliciting a hiss. 

“He left,” he says, trying to ignore Jacob tensing up under him at the proximity. He pushes himself to the side, flopping down next to him on the bed. Even though they didn’t kiss all that much, his lips are still red and a little swollen, and Sam tries not to think about the fact that that’s not helping his situation at all right now. 

Fine. Jacob is and has always been insanely attractive. Some might even say hot. Sam might be included in those some. 

Part of him is relieved they stopped when they did. A few more accidental rolls of his hips, and he’s not sure he would still be able to think straight. At the same time, he wonders what would’ve happened if they’d kept going. Would they have at some point given in to their urges? Accidentally gotten each other off in the heat of the moment? 

Sam catches Jacob’s gaze flicking down to his crotch and back up to his eyes. He raises his eyebrows, a silent question of what’s on his mind. 

“You’re –” Jacob begins but trails off, his voice hoarse. He gestures towards his hips. 

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, only now realizing that he’s still breathless. Fake sex isn’t any less exhausting than the real deal. “You too.” 

“Yeah...” 

It’s silent between them for a moment and Sam purses his lips, trying to come up with what to do next. His gaze glides down Jacob’s body, and he notices how his slacks are tenting. Desperately, he tries not to pay it any attention but he also can’t think of anything other than that. 

“We could...” Jacob begins, his eyes flicking between his face and his crotch. It’s absolute insanity, but somehow, Sam doesn’t want to say no. 

“We shouldn’t,” he says, still. The idea of Jacob touching him sends shivers through his body, but they really shouldn’t. No. There’s no way. They’ve already broken so many classic friendship rules, they can’t go down that path too. Though somehow it feels like it’s just a matter of time until it comes up again. 

Besides, he’s married. Issues or not, he’s still legally bound to a person who is not Sam, who’s waiting for him in the real world, probably worried out of her mind about her husband not returning from his work trip. It’s a little detail Sam likes to forget when they’re together because it rarely comes up, but it’s a fact he has to live with. That gold wedding band always shimmers so tauntingly on his finger when they’re in public and he hates the sight of it enough to relish in the fact he doesn’t wear it when they’re at home. He doesn’t know why he hates it so much. It’s not like he wants Jacob all to himself, although maybe, just maybe, his subconscious has already decided it should be them against the world.  

Does he have feelings for Jacob? Fuck. Does he?  

Maybe his hate for the ring stems from the reminder that while Jacob is his number one priority, he’s not Jacob’s. Maybe it’s the regular friendship jealousy single people get when their friends can’t make time for them because they’re hanging out with their spouses instead. 

Deep down he knows there’s more to it, but he can’t do much about it right now. Just like everything else, he has to push it to the back of his mind.  

 

* 

 

Surprisingly, Armand keeps his promise to leave them alone. It doesn’t mean they don’t cross paths anymore, of course they do when they’re trapped in a camper van, but for the most part Armand holds back his jabby comments, which means they barely talk at all. Daniel, all recovered now, can’t help but let some comments slip through but at least they’re not laced with vigor, but more with friendly, half-annoyed banter that became less annoyed when Jacob apologized to him for crashing their romantic trip. They find comfort in the fact that it probably couldn’t have been that romantic and private to begin with with two drivers in the front seat. 

Sam never bothered to learn their names and he partially feels like an asshole for it, but after dealing with Armand and Daniel his social battery is completely drained. Heightened senses are not great for someone who gets overwhelmed quickly – he can hear the conversation Jacob is having with the drivers, something about the national parks they’ve been driving past, and he tries desperately to listen in if only to drown out the blaring music from every other car that drives by. To his horror he’s heard a fair share of snippets from his own – well, Lestat’s – songs, honored and mortified in equal measure to have people actually blasting his music out loud on their daily work commutes. 

Despite his year-long experience in the industry, the attention he gets is still something Sam struggles with. He’s always loved performing, has never really had a problem with putting himself out there, but the thought of millions upon millions of people seeing him and judging him is still a lot to handle. Once again he’s reminded of how lucky he is to have Jacob by his side to help him through it, a musician and actor himself, who understands him like no one else ever could. 

Jacob... Jacob, Jacob, Jacob. He whispers the name into the air like it’s a chant, like saying it out loud would bring some clarity to what he feels. Daniel and Armand are absorbed in some heated discussion about what blender to get for their new New York apartment, so he feels safe to do so. He’s not in love with Jacob, but he loves him. Those are two very different things, he figures. Love comes in countless different forms, and what they have is truly unique. Co-workers turned best friends turned whatever this mess is right now, physical attraction, a level of intimacy like he’s never had with any other friend or even partner before him.  

Suddenly, he’s pulled out of his thoughts by the ladder rattling under the bed and Jacob sticking his head in through the curtain.  

“You called me?” 

“Uh...” He panics for a second but finally finds something to say. “Yeah, I did.” Scooting over in the single bunk, he holds out his arm and Jacob gladly accepts his invitation, settling with his head on his biceps, putting his arm around Sam’s waist and holding him. “These have been the longest 48 hours of my existence. Please tell me we’re almost there.” 

“About four more hours,” Jacob says, leaning up to press a comforting kiss to his temple. He hopes he doesn’t catch his heart thumping hard against his ribcage. “We’ll take your private jet next time,” he giggles, resting his head on his chest now, sending a soft smile up at him. No doubt he can hear it now.  

“Good.” Sam returns his smile and catches himself just in time before his eyes can flick down to his lips. Is it just the comfort that he wants? Or does he want something he can’t have?  

It’s the comfort, right? It has to be the comfort. Otherwise, he doesn’t know what to do with himself.  

Notes:

Next up: Jacob and Sam, finally by themselves again. What will change when they suddenly don't need to act anymore? There is an eventual smut tag on this fic and I think it's about time, don't you?

Chapter 7: Confessions and Denial

Notes:

Hehe. This is my favorite chapter so far for obvious reasons. Hope you enjoy ;))

It feels good to lie in a hotel bed again, and in true Lestat fashion they splurged on the presidential suite which means they’re lying on the plushest mattress, the fluffiest duvets, and way more pillows than anyone could ever need. Even the decorative throw pillows are immaculate – freshly cleaned so they don’t have to grab them between two fingers at an arm’s length and throw them off to the side, in a vibrant yellow and wine red, almost like the staff knew to color-match the room to their personalities.  

It’s silly to match colors to people, but it’s something that Sam has always intuitively done. Louis has always felt like a deep red to him – passionate, stubborn, but above all so loving. Lestat, despite his volatile nature, has always felt yellow. Bright and bubbly, an open book, someone who shines when he’s the center of attention. Ironically, it’s also the color he associates with Jacob, albeit a more muted, darker yellow. If he had to describe Jacob in one word, he’d use the word sunshine.  

“I wish I could read your mind right now,” Jacob says, breaking the silence. They’ve been lying on the king-sized bed for a long time, just resting. Trying to come down from having to play their characters for forty-eight hours.  

Sam makes a face and turns to look at him, his head propped up on his bent arm. “Why?” 

Jacob shrugs without looking at him. “I don’t know. I can read everyone’s mind but yours. It’s eerily quiet in here.” 

Sam’s cheeks flush at the thought of his thoughts being out there for Jacob to hear. It’s not like his thoughts are inappropriate, although sometimes – okay, maybe he has had some thoughts about Jacob that he’s not sure are appropriate even with their weird unlabeled arrangement. “You’re not missing out on much,” he says, though. “Just now I was thinking about what colors our personalities are.” 

Jacob’s gaze flicks over to Sam now and for a moment he looks at him before he bursts into a laugh. “Of course you were.” 

“I’m serious!” Sam argues but laughs anyway. He can’t help it, Jacob’s laugh is infectious, especially when he reaches out to touch his shoulder when he laughs.  

“What color is my personality?” 

“Sunshine yellow.” 

“Mhmm.” Jacob smiles. “I like that. I wouldn’t exactly say I have a sunshine personality though.” 

Oh, how wrong he is. “You do.” 

“Aw. Thanks.” His cheeks flush lightly. “What color are you?” 

Sam purses his lips as he thinks about it. He usually tries to figure it out for others, not for himself. 

“Light blue,” he finally says. 

“Like your eyes.” Jacob’s gaze is fixed on Sam’s. His hand ventures up towards his face but then he drops it again. “It suits you.” 

When Jacob props himself up on his elbow, the tension dissipates.  

“Tell me one thing you’ve never told anyone before.” 

Sam huffs out an awkward laugh. “Well, what do you want to know? Ask me anything and I’ll answer.”  

He’s not sure what to expect, but he decides to grant Jacob that little wish. He feels like he’s back in high school playing twenty questions or truth or dare, except it’s better this time because he actually doesn’t fear judgment for telling the truth.  

But Jacob shakes his head. “No. That’s my question. What’s something no one knows about you?” 

“Uhh...” Sam can physically feel his cheeks flush as his heart rate picks up. His mind wanders into unholy territory once again, making it hard for him to think about an answer. “Gosh, I don’t know. Let me think. Do you have something you’ve never told anyone? Then you go first.” 

Jacob studies him with playfully narrowed eyes until he finally sighs and says, “That’s cheating, but fine. I’ll go first. I... don’t like wearing my wedding ring. I only do it for appearances because the fans would go mad if I didn’t.” 

Sam eyes him curiously. “I figured. I noticed you never wear it when you don’t have to.” 

Impressed, Jacob raises his eyebrows. “Sometimes I forget about your great attention to detail. Alright –” He adjusts his position. “It’s your turn.” 

Sam averts his gaze, his cheeks burning hot. He hopes he’s not blushing quite as hard as it feels like he is. Finally, though, he comes up with something that’s not too risky and exposing. “I... guess this is something I haven’t told you yet. I have really mixed feelings about this here.” He gestures around the room. “I’m still scared, and the past forty-eight hours have been exhausting. But at the same time, it feels like a childhood dream came true. I get to be Lestat and –” I get to be with my Louis. “Armand is intimidating but so fascinating. Thinking about it now, from a distance, I want to spend hours, days just studying all these characters, but when I’m among them I’m terrified. I guess what I’m trying to say is, there’s a good side to it. There are parts that I... actually enjoy.” 

He chews on his lip, scared he went too far. He knows Jacob wants to get back home and he would never stand in the way of that. If he had to choose between staying here and leaving, he’d do anything it takes to get back. But slowly, he’s coming to realize that if they are truly stuck, there are probably worse fates. They don’t even have to stay here in the long run, they can buy some chateau in the middle of rural France and spend the rest of eternity just being. If he looks at it like that, being a vampire doesn’t sound all too bad. 

“I know what you mean.” Sam only realizes when Jacob speaks that there was a pause. “There’s a tiny part of me that thinks the same. Being here with you –” He pauses again, his gaze flicking up to Sam’s eyes as if to check if he caught some implication that got lost on him. “Sometimes I catch myself wondering if I even want to get back. We could have a good life here. Well, maybe not in New York City now that you’re famous.” He shoots him a teasing grin that makes Sam chuckle. “Anyway. Is it weird that our real lives are starting to feel like dreams? We haven’t even been here for a week and it’s already fading like it never happened.” 

“Yeah,” Sam breathes. Now that Jacob mentions it, he feels it too. The haziness of his memories, days, weeks melting together like it was one long dream and now he finally woke up. It’s probably the heightened vampire senses, but everything is so much clearer now.  

What if they never get back? Will they stick together until the end of time? Sam can’t picture it any other way. He can’t stand the thought of losing Jacob, so he pulls his thoughts back to the game. “One more admission from you. Something that’s not as obvious.” 

Jacob chuckles. “Alright, but you have to go again too, then. Yours was way more obvious than mine.” 

Sam rolls his eyes, smiling. “Okay, fine.” 

“Okay, I got one more thing,” Jacob says after a while of contemplating and he sits up, looking at Sam with a smirk on his lips. “I know this is weird, but we’ve had blood for dinner every single night now. Human blood. I’ve sort of been wondering...” 

Sam knows what he’s hinting at. He’s been thinking about it too, tried to suppress it in case Armand was listening in, but now that they’re by themselves, he can let his mind wander along the veins on Jacob’s body, feel the pull of the blood and indulge in his curiosity. 

“What vampire blood tastes like,” Sam finishes his sentence, his eyes glued to Jacob’s pulsating vein on the side of his neck. 

“Yeah...” Jacob breathes. For a while, neither of them speak, their gazes fixed on each other instead. Sam’s eyes slide hungrily down his neck, his clavicle, his chest, the rumpled black shirt obstructing his view. There’s definitely one more thing he hasn’t told Jacob, or anyone in the universe, and that’s how late at night he longs for his warmth, his touch, the softness and soothing nature of his voice, how he wants to be held by him, embraced by him, kissed, looked at in a way that screams I love you just as much as you love me. 

“What’s your confession?” Jacob asks, his voice low, and Sam still can’t peel his eyes away from him.  

It’s a fleeting moment and the thoughts are gone, replaced again by the mesmerizing sound of his blood flowing through his body. An intrusive thought, nothing more. He gets those sometimes.  

“That I’ve been wanting to try it too,” he whispers. 

“Should we –?” 

Sam gives a brief nod. “I think so.” 

They both sit up, eyes still on each other and then, Jacob is the first to lean in. He cradles Sam’s neck, combs his fingers through his hair to pull them back, the brush of his fingertips against his skin already making him take a deep breath in and let it out as a shaky exhale. Then, Jacob presses his mouth to his neck, and he braces himself for his fangs but instead, Jacob leaves open-mouthed kisses on his skin. 

“What are you doing?” Sam slurs, the heat spreading through his body overwhelming him for a second. But Jacob doesn’t answer and pulls back again.  

“You should take off your shirt, love. I would hate to ruin it.” 

Sam licks his lips. He’s only wearing his blue t-shirt and underwear, was actually expecting to go to sleep after this. But he likes the t-shirt. It would be a shame if it got ruined. So he grabs it by the hem and pulls it up over his head and tosses it on the floor. 

“You too,” he says, catching Jacob’s gaze wander over his newly exposed skin before he flicks it back up. “Tit for tat.” 

Jacob looks down at himself. He’s wearing an expensive black pajama set, nothing that would show blood splatters, but it’s more about the principle anyway. If he has to get undressed, so does Jacob. It’s not about self-indulgence. 

“It’s black.” 

“The collar’s too high. I need better access.” 

Jacob lifts his chin, and after a while, his fingers drift to the buttons and he begins to take it off so agonizingly slowly that Sam has to fight the urge to rip it off his body. 

“Bottoms too,” he says as soon as the shirt drops to the floor. 

“Mhmm?” Jacob hums, obviously entertained by Sam’s idea. “What’s your argument for that?” 

“I could spill blood on them by accident.” 

“They’ll be fine. They’re black.” 

For some reason, he didn’t expect Jacob to playfully fight back.  

“It’s only fair. I’m in my underwear.” 

“I’m not wearing anything under them.” 

Sam feels like his heart stops for a moment, the image of Jacob, fully naked while he drinks from him making his head spin. He urges to retort with an I don’t mind, but decides to let it go.  

Jacob settles with Sam’s thigh between his legs, shuffling over as close as he physically can. His fingers run along the side of his neck before he cradles it and brings his mouth close enough so that Sam can feel his hot breath against his skin, and then, he feels his fangs pierce the flesh. 

He expects pain, waits for the wave to hit his brain but is only met with adrenaline that ever so slowly morphs into pleasure. A soft moan falls from his lips at the realization that it feels just like when Jacob marks him with kisses, the sensation of being all his in mind and body, but then another wave rushes through him, and it’s another thing he expected which is partially the reason for why he decided not to make Jacob undress his bottoms as well.  

His cock stirs in his boxers and he feels all his blood rush south. He knows blood drinking evokes arousal, but he never expected to feel the goosebumps on his skin, the intensity of the pleasure coiling in his stomach, waiting to be released. Jacob shifts and he can feel him too against his thigh, as he deliberately presses his erection against him in his desperate need for friction.  

They shouldn’t do this. They really, really, really shouldn’t do this. But he can’t fight it, not with his blood rushing into Jacob, not with him humming against his neck, not with only two thin layers of fabric keeping them apart.  

His arms wrap around Jacob, clutching him close, and just as he finds Jacob’s knee to rut against, Jacob pulls back, his lips stained deep red.  

Sam doesn’t wait. Instantly, he leans in to meet his neck in return, his fangs piercing his skin with ease, and when the first drop hits his tongue he feels like he’s in heaven. Gleaming white light surrounds him, and it’s just him and Jacob now, in this little universe they’ve created. And they are everything to each other two people can be.  

Jacob’s moans vibrate through Sam’s body as he drinks, one tiny sip after another, the sweetness coating his tongue, making his chest explode with love and utter devotion. He is Jacob’s and Jacob is his, tied together with this unbreakable vampire bond they’re making. 

Jacob’s knee gives him some much-needed friction, all while his own thigh seems to offer him the same. His hands glide down his back, fingertips imprinting in the flesh, and then he’s pulling back again, afraid to take too much.  

They pant as they look at each other, and the natural consequence of their actions is clear. There’s no way around it, and in the post-drink haze, Jacob taking up all his tunnel vision, Sam sees no reason to fight it.  

It’s not a kiss, it’s a complete collision of two souls as if they’ve been longing for each other since the moment of creation. Sam can taste himself on Jacob’s tongue, his blood mixing with his own, creating its unique, intoxicating flavor. He can no longer taste himself, only them together as a unit as Jacob licks into his mouth then bites his bottom lip only to let it snap back and dive in tongue-first again.  

It’s hungry, it’s uninhibited. Jacob clutches at his shoulder, scratches his back with his vampire nails, then lets his hands dip down into the waistband of his shorts, grabbing onto his ass, rolling his hips into his thigh over and over again.  

Fuck whatever morals Sam may have had yesterday. He needs Jacob, and he needs him now. But Jacob is faster.  

He flips them over, pinning Sam’s hands above his head as he flops down on the mattress. With one hand he keeps his wrists in place while his other cradles his face as he kisses him, not allowing a single moan to escape. His knees are at his side, framing his waist, the wet patch on his trousers pressing into his stomach. As he trails his kisses down his neck and his chest he shuffles down, pressing his erection against Sam’s now, his hips rolling into him, making him throw his head back and let out a row of filthy moans.  

Under any other circumstance, Sam would be embarrassed about the sounds he’s making, but this is Jacob. With him, he can let himself go.  

He writhes under his touch, whimpers as Jacob lets his fangs graze over his nipples. His mouth keeps exploring his body though, completely unhindered, no, encouraged by his sounds.  

With a sudden surge of energy, Sam flips them over again, drawing a lovely moan out of Jacob as his back hits the mattress now. He leans in and licks over the wound on his neck, taking in some of the residual sweetness, and lets the adrenaline-pleasure-arousal rush through his body again. It’s addicting. He understands now why Lestat is the way he is.  

“Fuck, Sam,” Jacob whispers, his hands tangled in Sam’s hair. “What are we doing?” 

“I don’t know.”  

Moans fall from their lips as Jacob rolls his hips into Sam’s. 

“Do you want to stop?” 

Jacob shakes his head. “No. God, no.” 

Sam kisses him again, trying to burn the taste and feel of his lips into his memory. Even though they have this arrangement, it could always be the last time. They could be catapulted back into the real world after this, back to the confines of their friendship. The memory of the real world feels fake, though. Sam isn’t even sure they ever lived it. 

He kisses down his body, taking his time to worship every inch of his skin. His lips drag down his chest, his stomach, leaving messy kisses in their wake until he reaches his happy trail and takes his time there, his hands holding onto his small waist.  

“Sam. Sam,” he pants, completely enthralled by Sam’s mouth. “Keep going. Please.” 

That’s all Sam needs to hear. His fingers drift down into the waistband of his bottoms and he flicks his gaze up to meet Jacob’s, a slight nod allowing him to continue. With one swooping motion he pulls his pants off, then quickly gets rid of his own underwear as well. Tit for tat, as he said. It would seem unfair otherwise.  

Even in his darkest fantasies he’s never allowed himself to indulge in this view. Jacob’s cock, stained pink at the tip from the precum, twitching, causing another bead to roll down the shaft. His stomach tightens with every ragged breath, but he only sees it in his periphery, his gaze fixed exactly where he wants his mouth to be.  

His fingertips dig into the skin at Jacob’s hips as he once again settles between his legs and then he leans in, hesitant, unable to decide if he wants to keep looking at him or taste him. Jacob’s hands in his hair draw him in though, pulling him right out of his haze. 

Shamelessly, he licks up his entire length, closing his lips around the sensitive head, giving him a tentative suck that has Jacob moaning and his hands flying to the sheets and almost ripping them to shreds.  

Good. That’s exactly what Sam wants. 

Encouraged by his writhing and whimpering, he takes him deeper, letting his tongue run along the pulsating vein at the underside until he buries his nose in his lovely thicket of dark curls, forced to breathe through his nose to alleviate his gag reflex. 

“God, Sam, Sam, Sam,” Jacob pants, his hips tense as he tries not to fuck up into his mouth. One of his hands tangles in his hair again, the gentle pull sending shivers down his spine. As much as he hates his long hair, there are certainly perks to it.  

With one hand he lets go of Jacob’s hips and wraps it around the base of his cock instead, stroking him as he bobs his head up and down, hoping the way Jacob gasps and moans is a mirror of his pleasure.  

All he wants to do is to please Jacob.  

With a pop, he lets go of his dick and moves on to leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the base to his groin down his inner thigh. His hand slides from his hip down to hold his leg as he leaves a lovely bruise right where he sucked his skin between his lips, and another one right next to it. And really, it’s the heat of the moment when he bites him again, Jacob’s scent so intoxicating he just cannot resist.  

He didn’t think he could get any more turned on, but with the syrupy sweet blood on his tongue he feels his cock twitch and ache, begging for some friction to take the edge off. But with how far gone he already is, he’s not sure he would last very long.  

When he saw the packets of lube in Lestat’s make-up bag, he just rolled his eyes, but an instinct told him to keep them. His reasoning – Lestat would never travel without lube, especially not when he’s with Louis. He never would’ve thought it would actually come in handy for him.  

“Hold on a sec,” he says, his voice already hoarse. He scrambles off the bed and hurries over to the bag with all of Lestat’s essentials.  

“Sam? What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t make him wait too long, quickly grabbing the two little packets and hurrying back to Jacob, eagerly waiting for him in their bed. 

“What’s that? Condoms?” 

“Lube,” Sam says, tearing one packet open with his teeth and squeezing some of the clear liquid onto his fingers. “Looks like Lestat didn’t bring any condoms on tour.” 

“Vampirism clears you of all diseases.” Jacob’s eyes are fixed on Sam’s fingers as he speaks. “We don’t need them.” 

“Lie back and relax,” Sam orders, nodding towards the heap of pillows behind him. Jacob obliges and lets himself fall back on the mattress, angling his legs up for better access. Sam can’t afford to think too much about what he’s doing – firstly, because he would start to overthink it, but most importantly, he fears rationality will seep through and make him put a stop to it. He never wants this to stop. In fact, if this is a dream, he wants to live in it forever. 

With a slick finger he feels for his hole, then gently prods one finger in. Jacob’s entire body tenses up, then relaxes again as he gets used to the stretch. 

“You okay?” Sam breathes, exhaling in relief when Jacob gives frantic nods.  

“Yes. So good. Please, keep going.” 

Sam lets his hand wander from his knee back down to his thigh as he opens him up, the soft moans making it nearly impossible not to pick up his speed. He wants to draw it out as long as possible, indulge in it like it’s the last time. Maybe it is, but he doesn’t want to think about that right now.  

He adds another finger, fighting against his own impatience, and then another. Jacob throws his head back with every brush of his prostate, the moans falling from his lips the most beautiful sounds Sam has ever heard.  

“Jake, baby.” His heart is hammering against his ribcage at the fact that he gets to call him that, even if just for tonight. “Do you think you’re –?” 

 “Yeah.” Jacob nods, breathless. “Need you, Sam. Need you to fuck me.” 

Those words, directed at him, almost send him into a shock but he quickly recovers and pulls his fingers out. He lines himself up, then gently, with his hands on Jacob’s hips, he pushes in.  

As he bottoms out he stops for a moment, letting go of Jacob and instead propping himself up with his arms, the ends of his hair brushing Jacob’s face. Jacob’s thighs wrap around his hips and his eyelids flutter open, his gaze encouraging him to start moving. 

Tentatively, he rolls his hips against Jacob, watches his face for any sign of discomfort, only to find pure bliss. Quiet moans fall from his parted lips and his eyelids flutter shut again as he tilts his head back, his arm wrapping around his shoulder and his fingers tangling in his hair. The gentle pull sends shivers down Sam’s spine, evoking a moan from him that makes Jacob pull him in and pant against his mouth. Sam captures his bottom lip between his in a messy kiss, their moans interrupting it, every thrust making them break apart for a split second before they inevitably snap back together, tongues gliding against one another like they’ve never known anything else. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Sam knows they shouldn’t be doing this, but fuck, if this isn’t exactly where he wants to be right now, buried between his thighs, swallowing his moans as he’s the one causing them. Jacob’s body takes him in fully, meets his thrusts halfway to keep him as close as physically possible, his cock, untouched, smearing precome where it rubs against Sam’s stomach. Sam is tempted to wrap his fingers around it but he wants to draw this moment out as long as he possibly can. There’s no say as to when, or if it’ll happen again.  

Suddenly, Jacob hooks his leg behind Sam’s thigh and flips them over, startling Sam only for him to gaze up into Jacob’s beautiful brown eyes, now on top of him, pinning his arms down to the mattress again. And as quickly as he flipped them over he’s kissing him again, open-mouthed and filthy, while responding to every thrust by slamming his ass back into Sam’s hips. 

The sound of labored breaths, lips smacking, moans, and skin against skin fills the air. It’s unholy and absolute perfection all at once, and if Sam has ever fantasized about this, the reality tops it thousandfold. 

After a moment Jacob lets go of Sam’s wrists so he can throw his arms around him, pull him closer, let his fingers drift down his spine only to drift back up to settle on the nape of his neck. He runs his hands through his curls as Jacob kisses along his jawline and down his neck, letting his moans grow louder. The pleasure continues to coil in his stomach, slowly moving towards its peak, and judging by Jacob’s stuttering hips he feels the same way. 

“Jake! Jake,” he pants, completely breathless.  

“Hm? Sam. God, fuck.” He continues trailing his kisses, and without a doubt bruises, down his neck to his collarbone. 

“I’m close,” Sam manages, and it takes all his strength not to follow it up with an unrestrained moan.  

 “Yeah?” Jacob breathes. “Me too, baby. I want you to come inside me, yeah? I want to feel you when you come.” 

Sam can only squeeze his eyes shut and let out a moan at the image of that, but he forces his eyes back open, not wanting to miss a single second of Jacob’s face. He would forever regret not seeing him as he reaches his climax, the pleasure completely overwhelming him, drawing out the most beautiful sounds. Finally, he gives in and wraps his fingers around Jacob’s cock, tight, stroking him to the barely existent rhythm of their thrusts, dipping his thumb into the slit, then spreading the precome down his entire length.  

“Come for me, baby,” Sam says, his voice only a hoarse whisper. And just as he wants to repeat his request he feels his cock jerk and his hips halt, the orgasm crashing through him like a wave, painting his chest in gorgeous pink ribbons. Sam does not take his eyes off him the entire time, fucking him through it until it overwhelms him too and he releases inside Jacob with a cry of his name.  

Exhausted, Jacob collapses on top of him and then flips over to his own side of the bed, and Sam can only admire the long stretch of bare skin, just his back that’s turned towards him as the sun pulls them both into unconsciousness.