mmmm currently thinking about armand being supersuper gentle with bestie while she’s drunk and helping her get ready for bed and she gets all emotional bc he's so sweet with her😭😭😭
The blissful nothingness of true unconsciousness is replaced by the weight of general discomfort with no warning. The change is so sudden, it takes you a minute to even think about squinting your eyes open.
Your memories from the start of the night aren't exactly hazy, but they do feel a little distant. You remember leaving the penthouse with Armand and Louis, ordering drinks at some bar, stumbling home, and then...eventually you pestered Armand into making you another drink at home…and then at some point, you managed to get him to make you at least one more after that.
The specifics are a little more difficult for you to piece together. If the details felt more pressing, you might have minded the vague lapses, but you're too tired to worry about them right now. You woke up in Louis and Armand's bed. That means that nothing bad happened.
You let out a breath before shifting onto your side. The bedding that you're tangled in is soft against your skin, but the movement makes you realize that the sheets are adding to your discomfort. Everything is too warm, too suffocating.
Great. You fell asleep in a hoodie.
Ignoring the dull ache settling behind your temple, you force yourself to sit up. Before you can start trying to awkwardly tug the unnecessary layer of clothing off of your body, you realize that you're not alone.
Louis's sleeping next to you, his lips slightly parted in a way that's usually a sign of true sleep. You don't think Louis's capable of overheating in the middle of the night, and even if he was, you really doubt that he'd be mad at you for trying to use him as a living ice pack. Louis would also forgive you if you accidentally woke him up in the process.
Still, you probably shouldn't. You have no way of knowing how late it is, but the fact that Louis's the only vampire that's gone to bed probably means that the sun has just started rising. There's a good chance that Louis only fell asleep recently. Or maybe he's been sleeping next to you the entire time.
Wait..how long have you been asleep? Before you can dwell on the question for too long, a much more pressing issue pops into your head. Your stomach feels completely empty. And now that you're thinking about how hungry you are, you can't think about anything else.
Your movements feel sluggish as you push yourself to stand, but you manage to get up without waking Louis. You take your time wandering out into the hall.
You're always pleasantly surprised by the variety of snacks available in the penthouse. There are a few things that would be easy for you to just grab out of the pantry, but hangover food works best when you're smart about it. You need something dense, but not heavy.
Picking out the right food for a hangover isn't really a talent, but your sister was the best at it. Kara always knew when you needed someone to make you eat eggs and toast instead of plain cereal out of the box. Maybe Kara's actual talent was taking care of you.
You push against those thoughts as you step into the kitchen. You're not going to fall apart in the middle of the night while you're still a little drunk. You're going to have some toast, and then crawl back into bed with Louis.
Having an actual goal to work towards gives you a much needed sense of direction. You make it to the pantry as easily as you would have if you had been completely sober. You even manage to find a loaf of bread without any real issue, but that's where your luck ends.
The twist ties used to keep bread wrapped in plastic really don't need to be as tightly wound as they are. You bend the tie again, but it doesn't budge.
"You're supposed to be asleep."
You turn towards the sound of the voice instinctually, too out of it to properly flinch. "I'm hungry."
It's too dark in the kitchen for you to make out Armand's expression, but you can feel him glancing between you and the loaf of bread you're still holding onto.
He sighs. "You're drunk."
You blink at him. He's probably right, but you don't see what his point has to do with yours. "And hungry," then, as if to emphasize how much you mean it, you start trying to unpack the bread again. Struggling with something that should be simple only further agitates you. Your stomach is too empty, and the hoodie that you never took off is too suffocating. "And hot."
You set the bread down on the counter before reaching for the hem of your hoodie. You tug on the fabric, doing your best to pull it off of your arms and over your head.
"What are you doing?"
"Brain surgery."
Armand scoffs. You can hear him walking towards you, but you don't think about what he might be trying to do until you feel him adjust the bottom of your oversized t-shirt. He helps you finish pulling the hoodie over your head.
Even though you no longer need his help, he remains near you. It's still too dark for you to fully decipher his expression, but from this angle, you can assess some of his features. The slope of his jaw, the loose curls framing his face.
He's the first to break the silence, "better?" You nod blankly. "Go wait for me in the living room." You look between Armand and the bread on the counter. "I'll take care of the food."
The offer reminds you so much of your sister, you're nearly overwhelmed by it. You exhale in an attempt at forcing yourself to focus on the present. Armand is still standing incredibly close to you. There's something particularly comforting about having him within reach.
Armand extends an arm with no warning, his hand finding your shoulder. "Are you alright?"
You're not as good at masking your emotions as you should be. If you were sober, you'd care enough to focus on recovering but because you're not, you give into your impulses. You move closer towards him, your arms bending around his waist.
He hugs you back almost immediately. You can feel the coolness of his skin through the thin material of his shirt. Armand begins to trace patterns against your spine soothingly. "I always forget that you can't handle your alcohol."
You're so comfortable, a part of you doesn't even want to bother responding. "Maybe I just really like you."
"I'm sure," he mumbles, his tone dismissive. "Go sit, I'll bring you something to eat."
Right. You never actually made any toast. You're still hungry, but the thought of letting go of Armand is way too unappealing. "No," you say, more to yourself than to him, "I like it here."
He sighs, but makes no attempt at making you let go of him. Armand adjusts his hold on you slowly, his fingers dragging their way up your back before coming to rest against the side of your neck. "You are a little warm."
With no warning, he moves his arm away from your back. You don't think much about the change until you feel him pull one of your arms away from his side.
You lift your head enough to frown at him, but before you can start complaining, he places your hand beneath his shirt. The contact is so unexpected, you have to bite your tongue to keep from reacting. If Armand notices your uncertainty, he gives no indication of it, he just places his palm over yours, holding your hand against his lower ribs.
After a long moment, you remember how to relax. There's no reason for you to feel weird about this. Armand is only trying to help you feel better, and it's not like you've never touched his bare skin before.
Sometimes, if Armand's recently fed, he feels just as warm as the average person. You always enjoy being close to him, but there's something distinctly soothing about his supernatural coolness. His skin also feels a little softer to you than anyone else's, which is a trait that may have nothing to do with vampirism at all.
Carefully, you drag your thumb across his side. He inhales sharply before easing into the contact. "You feel nice."
He doesn't respond, he just lets you enjoy the feeling of his skin against yours. After a stretch of time that could have been any number of minutes, Armand decides to remind you that you wandered into the kitchen for a reason, "you need to eat something."
You let out a heavy sigh before pulling away from him. "Okay."
Armand takes his time letting go of you, his hand squeezing your shoulder before returning to his side. It takes you a second to realize that he's still holding onto your hoodie. "Do you want to go wait in the living room now?"
Even in your current state, with the lingering effects of both alcohol and drowsiness blending together impacting your ability to properly assess things, you can tell that Armand's trying to be patient with you. That doesn't mean that you're ready to leave his side, though.
When you take too long to answer, he lets out a low breath. "Fine. Stay here. Just don't touch anything capable of producing heat."
Armand takes a step away from you before pulling your hoodie over his head. It isn't rare for certain clothing items in the penthouse to become communal property, especially loungewear. Still, you did just drunkenly pass out and sleep in that hoodie for an unknown number of hours.
"If you want, I can get you a different sweatshirt from my room."
He shakes his head once. "This one is comfortable." You thought that he'd say that, but you're still glad you at least offered to do something helpful.
Armand’s focus shifts onto the loaf of bread. He undoes the twist tie with an ease that makes your earlier attempt at making toast even more embarrassing. Maybe he was right to take over.
A small part of you is surprised that he doesn't even need to look around to find the toaster. You guess you shouldn't be. After all, you're well aware of his affinity for modern day appliances. He knows more about blenders than anyone you've ever met.
After the toast pops out of the toaster, Armand places both slices on a plate. Instead of handing the plate to you, he sets it aside. Then, he opens up the fridge. He takes a small carton of eggs and a pint of milk out of the refrigerator. He glances at the ingredients before finding a pan to put on the stove.
"What are you doing?" You've already pieced together a pretty good idea of what Armand's intentions are, you're just not sure how to articulate what you really want to ask.
"Making eggs," he answers easily, "the amino acids and protein will help you recover."
You know that eggs are good hangover food. They were always a part of your sister's go to post-drinking-meals. But again, you weren't really trying to ask him about what he was doing. "And you...know how to do that?"
It's not a secret that Armand doesn't consume human food, but for whatever reason, you're usually hesitant about pointing it out. Maybe you don't want to actively remind him of the differences between the two of you.
He turns his head away from the stove so that he can look at you. Morning is starting now, with the first rays of sunlight just starting to bleed in through the windows. Only a fraction of that already diluted light has reached the kitchen, but it's enough for you to make out his expression. Armand's lips are pressed into a thin line.
"I've lived a long life," he finally says, "I know how to make eggs."
His response feels like a much appreciated attempt at humor. You let yourself smile slightly. "Sometimes I think you might know everything."
Armand picks an egg out of the carton. He taps it against the side of the pan, cracking the egg in half expertly. He then cracks another egg over the pan. The familiar sound of something liquid-y hitting the hot surface of a pan fills the room. "Not everything."
You take a step towards him. "Do you have any examples of the few questions that haven't been answered in your 514 years of existence?"
Instead of responding, he focuses on setting aside the egg shells. He opens up the bottle of milk before pouring a little onto the pan. The sizzling grows louder. He opens up the drawer closest to the stove, pulling out a spatula that he immediately starts using to break apart the eggs.
There isn't anything inherently wrong about his lack of response. He's focused on what he's making. However, an unexplained stretch of silence from Armand isn’t always as innocent as it seems.
“Armand?" No answer. "I was kidding. I know you don't know things. I've seen you try to rationalize the final season of The Summer I turned Pretty."
"Are you happy?" Woah. A loaded question for someone who is still recovering from multiple shots of vodka and at least two martinis.
"Uh," you blink, "Yeah. I mean, my head starting to hurt, but that's fair...all things considered."
He looks between you and the pan. "I didn't mean it as a general question."
Oh. He's asking if you're happy in general. "Yeah." It should be harder to know whether or not you mean the answer. Happiness shouldn't come easily to you yet, it hasn't been long enough since Kara. But you are. Or at the very least, you're as close to happy as you're capable of being. Everything feels so much better when you're with Louis and Armand. "I'm always happy when I visit you guys."
Armand doesn't look at you, he just focuses on moving the now finished eggs onto your plate. His expression remains blank, but you can tell that he's breaking down every part of your response.
"If you're so happy," he pauses as he reaches for the dial he used to turn on the burner, "I don't understand why you always insist on leaving."
Ugh. There is no way Armand is trying to start the 'you don't need to leave yet' conversation while you're half asleep and still a little drunk. "I'm still staying for a few more weeks."
He sets the plate down on the counter instead of directly handing it to you. "That's not what I meant."
Great. This isn't a conversation about your visit ending, it's about you moving in with them...which is an even more unfair thing to bring up right now. "Oh," an incredibly weak start, "did Louis ask you to bring this up?"
A long beat of silence, and then a hesitant, "no."
An unjustifiable warmth begins to inch its way up your neck. "I love the idea of living with you and Louis, it just doesn't seem like the most practical thing for everyone." It's a response that you've given him before.
"There are a lot of artists in Dubai," his usual argument, "and you can fly to New York or other places as needed."
It's not like you've never thought about accepting their offer. You probably spend more time with Armand and Louis than you do alone, and when you are without them, the only thing you want is to see them again. But it's not that simple. You've always lived in New York City, every part of your life that isn't them is there.
It would also be a lot to live that far from your family. Could you be one of those people that only visits their relatives every Christmas at most? That might actually kill your mother.
"You would still be able to see your mother. She could even stay here, if you'd like." Your thoughts must be so incredibly transparent right now.
You reach for the silverware drawer. "Mind reading while I'm drunk is so unfair." He doesn't even have the decency to try to look ashamed. You pull a fork our of the drawer before pushing it shut. "It's nice of you guys to offer, but you know you don't really want me to live with you."
Armand scoffs. "Don't tell me what I want--"
"I'm not telling you anything, I'm just being realistic," you defend, "we're always arguing, imagine never getting a break from that."
He flinches, his entire body becoming so rigid it takes everything in you to keep from immediately apologizing. "Do you want a break?"
"No." You're surprised by how much you mean it. Bickering with Armand never exhausts you, and honestly, even if it did, you don't think it would be enough to make you not want to be around him. "Do you?"
He lifts his gaze just enough to meet yours. "No."
You let his response wash over you. Knowing that Armand doesn't get tired of you is more assuring than it should be. "Okay," you say it as a way of testing out breaking the silence, "then...we're good, right?"
He nods slowly.
"I'm still kind of out of it," you start carefully, "can we talk about this later?"
Again, his only response is a subtle nod. It's not the best reaction, but it's okay enough for you to finally feel comfortable bringing your fork to your plate.
You take a bite of the eggs. Of course they're perfect. "How are you good at everything?"
Armand keeps his gaze focused on the stove. "Years of practice."
Okay. An answer that isn't overwhelmingly serious. You can work with that. "What have you been up to since I fell asleep?"
"Washing martini glasses took up a significant amount of my time," he starts, "after that I fed with Louis, we spent some time in the living room before Louis joined you. I logged into our shared Minecraft world, I found a new village."
That's exciting. "Really?"
He nods, this time the motion less stiff. "I marked the location. I can show you tomorrow."
You smile at that. "Cool." You eat some more of your eggs. "That reminds me, that one artist you said you liked--the one that does the cool glasswork--is doing a private exhibition next week. My agent sent me tickets." You don't look up from your plate. "We could go, if you want."
When he takes too long to answer, you force yourself to glance at him. He's already looking at you. "I'd like that."
The response eases you slightly. "Okay. I'll email her back later today."
Things settle after that. Neither of you speak again, but this the kind of quiet that you like sharing with Armand. There's no subtle tension corrupting the silence, the two of you are just existing.
The newfound peace makes it easier for you to focus on the food in front of you. When you start working on your first piece of toast, Armand returns to the fridge. He puts away the remaining eggs and milk before pulling out the water filtering pitcher. He fills a glass with water before handing it to you.
"Thanks." You didn't realize how thirsty you were until you were given a reason to think about water. You down about half of the glass in one go.
The combination of water and food helps you feel a lot more stable. You're still not completely sober, but you're not as groggy as you were earlier. After you finish eating, you carry your plate and used glass to the sink.
Armand sighs when he hears you turn on the sink. "You don't have to do that."
You give him a pointed look. This is a conversation that you've had before. While you do appreciate the penthouse staff, you do your best to not add to their workload. "I don't mind." He frowns. "Give me the pan."
It takes him a second to actually listen to you. Eventually, Armand relents and removes the pan from the stove. "At least let me do it."
"No."
He sets the pan down next to the sink. "Do you have to be difficult about everything?"
You finish rinsing off your plate. He takes it from you once your finished, placing it in the dishwasher in a way that only feels partially passive aggressive. "Apparently."
You rinse off your fork, and then, after you're sure that the pan is no longer hot enough to burn you, you rinse that off as well. Armand puts different items into the dishwasher as you finish.
"Happy now?"
You shut off the sink. "Thrilled."
"Well, at least there's that," his voice is heavy with sarcasm. "Are you ready to go back to bed?"
You do still feel a little sleepy, but you're not exhausted. At least, not so exhausted that the thought of going to bed is more appealing than staying near Armand. "Are you going to bed?"
He lets out a tired breath. "Do you want me to?"
You beam. "Yes." Without giving Armand a chance to respond, you wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the side of his arm.
Instead of complaining about the way that you've latched onto him, he just places a hand against your back. "Okay, then let's go."
Hm. To go to bed, you'll have to stop hugging him. Which is unfortunate...but you guess you'll live. You squeeze him one more time before straightening enough to pull away from him slightly. "Fine."
Armand drags his hand up your back and onto your shoulder, anchoring you in place. "Can I try something?"
That's suspicious. "Ominous." You don't think he's ever asked you if it was okay to 'try something'. "Okay."
With that, he bends, one of his arms pressing itself more firmly against your back and the other coming beneath your knees. He picks you up with no other warning.
You gasp, your arms instinctually bending around his neck so that you can feel a little more stable. "Armand."
"What?" He asks casually, as if there's nothing abnormal about this.
You blink, a little too surprised to do anything else. There was no effort, no strain...he just picked you up the way you'd pick up a few grocery bags.
Vampire strength is one of the first vampiric abilities you were told about. It was one of the many cliche supernatural abilities you asked Louis about the night you first discussed what he was. You've also had Louis carry you around bridal style before. Usually, at the end of a long night after you've gone out in shoes that are a little too uncomfortable.
So, objectively, Armand's ability to support your weight shouldn't be shocking, and yet you can't stop thinking about it.
He adjusts his hold on you, his thumb dragging itself against the side of your arm. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," the response feels much too hollow. You swallow once, forcing yourself to focus on the present. "Just--some warning would have been nice."
Armand starts walking towards his bedroom. "I did ask."
He seems much too proud of the technicality. You roll your eyes, pushing away thoughts that are much too centered around Armand's ability to pick you up like you weigh nothing. "Barely."
"Fine," he starts, "Darling, can I please carry you to bed?"
You try scowling at him, but you're not sure the look comes off as annoyed as you want it to. "If you insist."
Armand still seems much too smug as he leans towards you, pressing his lips against your temple. The longer he carries you, the more comfortable the feeling becomes. You relax, letting yourself rest your head against his shoulder.
"Are you okay?"
"Mhm," you mumble, "comfortable."
You're finally reaching the bedroom. You lift your head slightly when you see the outline of Louis's figure beneath the comforter. A part of you wishes that he was awake so that you could talk to him about this. You could try not-so-subtly nudging him awake, but he's already asked you to stop waking him up just so that you can gush about Armand.
You wonder if Armand's as comfortable as you are. Louis has sworn that you're not difficult to carry, but you know he wouldn't tell you if you actually were.
"You're frowning." Armand really does notice everything.
"I'm not like..." There's no relaxed way to ask this. "Heavy, am I?"
"No, Bichette," he answers easily, "you're not heavy."
He could be lying to you, but something about his tone of voice makes you think he's telling the truth. Besides, vampire strength is fueled by the supernatural. Realistically, it's probably safe to assume that--
The world is thrown off of its access. One second, you're holding onto him, and the second you're hitting the mattress. Armand just threw you onto the bed. "See?"
You should be mad, or at least a little concerned about how easy that was for him. You're not. Armand didn't let go of you until you were directly above the bed, but you don't even care about that.
"Yeah," you say blankly, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, "you proved your point."
You're not sure what kind of reaction he was looking for, but something about the way the corner of his mouth tugs itself upwards tells you that he's pleased about the way that things worked out. "I always do."
You part your lips, but before you're forced to respond, you hear a tired groan followed by something next to you shifting. Louis.
It's instinctual to turn your head to look at him, "you're awake."
"No," Louis mumbles, "I'm not."
Instead of listening to him, you roll onto your side so that you can be closer to him. You rest your chin against his stomach. "Armand carried me here from the kitchen."
He squints his eyes open, "I carried you for six blocks last week, I don't remember you being this enthusiastic."
You frown, "Yes, I was. I talked about how wonderful and strong you are all night." If there's one thing Louis has no right to say, it's that you don't take every opportunity to talk about how amazing he is.
Louis hums dismissively. He can be so dramatic sometimes. You tug on his pajama shirt, adjusting the hem to expose his skin. You press a kiss against his bare side. "You know I love you."
He's trying to hold onto his imaginary hurt, but you can tell that he's struggling not to smile. "I love you, too."
You kiss the spot just beneath his ribs again before moving onto your back. Armand's still standing near the side of the bed. He's looking between you and Louis. You extend an arm, reaching out in his general direction. "Bed."
He sighs, as if something about you asking him to do what he already wanted to do has deeply inconvenienced him. He pulls your hoodie off over his head, and then he does the same thing with his shirt.
You drop your gaze towards the comforter. You're usually pretty okay with Armand and Louis walking around shirtless. They're guys, it isn't a big deal to them. However, that doesn't mean you know what to do when they start casually undressing.
Armand turns away from the bed and starts walking towards his closet. He's probably going to store your hoodie with his things, which is fine. It'll eventually cycle its way back to you.
"He doesn't take his shirt off half as much when you're not here," Louis says, his voice a little too amused.
You scoff. "Shut up."
"I'm serious," he starts, "you show up, and suddenly, he can't get through a night with his shirt on."
You hate the warmth inching its way up your neck. Louis likes teasing you and Armand. It doesn't mean anything. "I'm sure."
Armand returns from their shared closet, "what are you two talking about?"
"Why? Is your super hearing not good enough?" He narrows his eyes at you. "We're talking about you being obsessed with me."
Armand stiffens briefly stiffens, but he recovers so quickly, you might not have noticed the pause if you had been any less focused on his reaction.
"You've caught me." He starts walking towards you. Before you know it, he's standing directly in front of the bed, "I have to have you." He's leaning over you in an instant, his mouth finding the side of your neck.
Armand's being incredibly persistent, his lips brushing against your skin and his teeth occasionally dragging against your collarbone. You have to remind yourself to breathe. You shift back on instinct, but he's more than ready to occupy the additional space. He moves onto the bed without letting go of you.
"Armand," you try weakly, "come on."
"I can't help it," he whispers the syllables against your neck, "I'm obsessed with you."
You place a hand on his shoulder. The move lacks any real conviction. "Yeah, I believe you."
You can feel him grin against your skin. He places a final kiss against your collarbone before pulling away from you just enough to look you in the eye. "As long as you believe me."
"You are so annoying," the words are terribly soft.
He has the audacity to openly smile at that. Armand leans towards you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before moving off of you. He relaxes against his pillow.
At some point during your exchange with Armand, Louis must have sat up because you feel him shift towards you. He places a kiss against the side of your neck, the contact overwhelmingly sentimental. "Louis."
"I missed you," you can tell that he means it.
Louis lays down again without saying anything else. He must be really tired. You and Armand need to be considerate about Louis's sleep.
You place a hand against his arm, dragging your nails against his inner arm. "Sorry for waking you up."
"It's okay," you can tell that he means it. "What have you guys been up to?"
"I made her something to eat," Armand starts answering Louis's question before you get the chance to, "and we talked about the moving thing again."
Your head snaps towards Armand. "Traitor."
Conversations about you moving in with them are difficult enough when it's just Armand, but they're infinitely worse when Louis gets involved. The subject always makes him so sad.
"Yes, and the conclusion was that we wouldn't talk about it anymore until I'm sober."
Louis looks up at you, his eyebrows drawing together in that way that makes him seem like a puppy preparing to be kicked. "I don't get why it needs to be a conversation at all."
"It's complicated," you say carefully, "I mean, like, in theory it makes sense, but logistically, there are other things to think about."
Louis turns his arm so that he can hold your hand. "Like what?"
"Like..." Ugh. They're really going to make you say it. "You might get tired of me always being around."
Louis scrunches up his face in disbelief. "What?"
"I am like the first few nights of a vacation, the nights where you're committed to having a really good time," you explain, "which are good, but by the end of the trip, you want to rest before you need to start packing up your suitcase. If I lived with you guys, you'd never get any rest days, and you'd eventually resent the thing keeping you from getting to the airport on time."
"Airport?" He quickly pushes himself to sit up. "What are you talking about? I would be with you all the time if you'd let me."
"You only feel that way because I don't." You're not sure if this conversation would be easier if you were a little more drunk or a little more sober. You squeeze your hands together on your lap. "I am a lot, and I've kind of tricked you guys into thinking I'm not."
The silence that follows makes your skin crawl. Armand is the first to break it, "you can't possibly think that highly of yourself."
You turn your head towards him. "What?"
"Do you really think you could trick two immortal beings that have existed for hundreds of years when it comes to anything, especially when it comes to who you are?" He briefly presses his lips together. "Or that there's anything you could ever do to change how I--" He cuts himself off. "There is nothing you could do to make either of us not want you.
Oh. "And you--you guys don't think that you'd miss having personal space?" This is awkward for a completely different reason. "Like, as a couple?"
Louis presses an elbow into the mattress, pushing himself to sit up slightly, "are you really asking about that?"
You can feel yourself flush. You know that Louis and Armand are an active couple. It's never been an issue. You're don't care about what two consenting adults choose to do together, and you understand boundaries. But there's more to being in a long term relationship than having enough privacy to sleep together.
"Shut up, that's not how I meant it." A part of you is grateful for the change in subject. Even if it's this. "You guys probably want to do things as just a couple, and I want to make sure that you guys feel like you have enough space."
Louis sits up enough to look directly at Armand, "I'm comfortable with the amount of space we have, are you?"
Armand looks at Louis, "I'm comfortable."
You roll your eyes at the exchange. "I'm too tired for you guys to be this annoying." They can continue to talk about this if they want, but you're going to bed. You move to lie down, Louis moves over a little to make it easier for you to do so. "I'm going to sleep."
Armand's quick to follow you. He lays his head on your chest. "You never gave us an answer."
You briefly consider giving him a 'no' just because he asked again after you said you were going to sleep. "Maybe," you settle on, "ask me again after I wake up."
He shifts, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck before relaxing again. "I'll take it."
After a second, Louis lies down as well. "Ma Chérie, you know I love you, right? Not some idealized version of you, but the actual you."
Deep down, past personal insecurity, you believe him. If anyone you've ever met actually loves all of you, it's Louis. "I know, it's just hard to remember that sometimes, I guess."
Armand lets out a breath that you can feel against your collarbone, "you are one of the most amiable people I've ever met. If you aren't deserving of love, I don't know who is."
You bring your hand to the back of Armand's head. You drag your nails through his hair carefully. "I think you're even more deserving," the words are quiet, the structure of the syllables lost to your drowsiness.
He doesn't respond. You fall asleep before you can overthink the silence.
-----
bestie not realizing that she's also now a part of their marriage 😭
