Pink Tinted Monocle

A 300 word loumand fic for @loumandmicrofic for the prompt hunt/contain. 

Here on Ao3 and below:

“I won’t kill in the new millennium” stated Louis.

“In that case we should make your last special”, Armand replied thoughtfully.  “One more hunt.”

Louis scowled.  “I don’t need one more hunt.  I’m just gonna stop.”

Yet once the seed was planted in his mind the idea of a memorable final kill grew more and more appealing.

A few weeks later he asked “If I did decide to have one last hunt, how would you suggest making it, uh, special?”

Eyes brightening from russet to tangerine, Armand immediately flipped open his new laptop.  

“I have a few ideas”, he said, flooding a document with words as his elegant fingers flew over the keys.  “Just leave it with me.”

Armand kept the plans close to his chest, but Louis still had access to their bills and outgoings.  He knew that Armand had rented a loft in New York and that he’d ordered frankly ridiculous quantities of both balloons and plastic sheeting.

On the night of December 31st 1999, they descended on Times Square.  They weaved through drunken revellers, fingers entwined, until Armand located their target.

Them.

The group was composed entirely of Wall Street traders, self-satisfied white men armed with the confidence that comes from never being told ‘no’.

Louis slipped on a long neglected persona, offering them women and narcotics at a discreet establishment.

With the victims snugly contained in the loft, Armand barred the doors and he and Louis shared a kiss before gleefully tearing out throats amid a cacophony of screams and bursting balloons.

“The turn of your second century, darling”, Armand commented on the stroke of midnight as they embraced with bloodlust fueled passion.

“Your fifth, my love”, responded Louis.

Another (much sillier) 200 word loumand fic for @loumandmicrofic for the prompt house/haunting.  

Here on Ao3 and below:

In New York, they join a walking ghost tour one night.  The guide is engaging and their fellow participants are pleasant enough.

Apart from Ronald.

Ronald wears a cap embroidered with the slogan women want me, fish fear me and slurps constantly from a large soda cup.  He interrupts the guide loudly to give his opinion on the house or ghoul being discussed and keeps asking where the nearest Wendy’s is.  When Armand and Louis hold hands, Ronald glares at them, shaking his head and tutting.

I know he’s not your usual type, Louis says, telepathically, but it has been a while since you last fed.

Armand smiles.  The tour would be far more enjoyable without him, wouldn’t it, my dear?

Oh, far more enjoyable, my love.

At The House of Death, Armand coaxes Ronald inside while the rest of the group stand frozen on the sidewalk.  He relinquishes his hold on him just long enough for the human to realise he’s about to die.  Afterwards, he plucks the cap from Ronald’s head and places it on top of his curls.  

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