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Daniel isn’t sure when he first notices the feeling of being watched.
He’s a fairly well-known journalist. He knows the invasive feeling of paparazzi watching him. The way they come out of the woodwork whenever he writes, or when his unfortunately public announcement of Parkinson’s disease happened.
But this feeling is older, deeper.
It feels like it’s been there for years. Yet, he knows it became stronger after coming to Dubai.
At first, he assumes it’s cameras. Louis has got to have things installed to keep an eye on the staff. It stands to reason he would want eyes on the geriatric invalid shacking up in his guest room.
Eventually he realizes it isn’t cameras or even Louis at all. It’s the other one.
Daniel isn’t proud of his first thoughts about Rashid. The way he takes one look at him and immediately brushes him off as a child. He is a child who has ridiculous dreams of playing house with a vampire and is gonna get himself killed based on his own naivete.
Daniel can honestly say that first impression never completely goes away, even as he begins to find himself uncomfortably drawn to the man. It’s something about the eyes. They pull him in, even as his mind tries to tell him there’s something wrong about them. Not wrong as in there’s some insanity lurking behind them (although he will soon revise that opinion) but because something in his brain tells him the color isn’t right. Isn’t rich enough. Isn’t bright enough.
And he always feels him watching.
Maybe that’s what originally makes him start thinking about him more. He notices that Rashid’s eyes always seem to be on him, even when he’s listening to every order that leaves Louis’ lips. Daniel thinks there are some very odd power dynamics between the two of them (an opinion that won’t be revised) but the strangest part is still how Rashid seems to never stop watching him.
And then the stupid vampires decide to get dramatic when Daniel pushes a little too much for their liking.
So Rashid is really Armand. Though there is also a Rashid, which Daniel finds frankly hilarious. Louis proclaims Armand is the love of his life–something Daniel considers laughable based on the past several days he’s sat listening to the man talk about hearts beating as one .
It isn’t until hours afterward that something occurs to him.
Armand hadn’t agreed. Nothing about his face had changed; he even seemed pleased at the statement. But he hadn’t verbally agreed. Just kept looking at Daniel, the intensity of Rashid now quadrupled with him taking out those contacts or whatever ridiculousness they were.
(His eyes are right now. The color is right. The sense of wrongness has left Daniel. He no longer dislikes looking into them even as he avoids doing it as often as possible.)
The point is, the farce still wouldn’t have been sold, but Daniel might have thought Armand at least believed it. Believed in this stupid love story. If he hadn’t looked at Daniel with such intensity as Louis talked about the love of his life .
It doesn’t stop after the reveal either. Daniel is constantly feeling those eyes on him, and he can’t explain how it makes him feel. It should frighten him. No matter what anyone tries to say, he can’t believe that Armand is the less threatening presence in his life right now. But feeling those eyes watch him, always watching him; he hates the twisting in his gut that happens whenever he becomes aware of it.
He hates how pleasant the twist is. How welcome it feels. How familiar.
He hates how when the two of them are left alone together, when all of Armand’s focus becomes on him, he still isn’t bothered. He almost…welcomes it? Which is the opposite of what he should want.
He hates the small, young voice in the back of his head that always whispers nonsensical things like, ‘ there, see? It was real’ or ‘ you and I both know what love really feels like, don’t we, Armand?’
He sometimes wonders if Armand hears that voice too. The staring always becomes more intense afterward. The clenching of his jaw and anxiousness of his fingers always become more pronounced. Daniel doesn’t know what to tell him though, as he has no clue what those thoughts could possibly mean.
So he continues to ignore it. Continues to act as if he doesn't notice the watchful eyes that never seem to stray from him. Even when he knows Armand's entire focus is on Louis, it feels like he's watching Daniel, waiting for reactions Daniel refuses to give.
Then shit hits the fan. Armand hits a wall. Daniel attempts to hit the road, but he never really expected his story would end that way so he can't say he's surprised by what happens next.
And after that, it’s the absence of the eyes that really does Daniel in. The months upon months of never feeling them. Realizing how much comfort he’d weirdly started to take from knowing he was being watched, even when he didn’t know how. He tries to act unbothered. Tells Louis how furious he is with the abandonment (which is true) and tells Lestat that he couldn’t care less what his erstwhile Maker is up to (which is so untrue it’s absurd).
He tells no one about the memories. He tells no one about the way he now understands that voice in his head, the one that always sounded like himself. The way he now knows that those eyes have been fixed on him since he was 20 years old, for better or worse.
He goes months like this, acting uncaring, acting blasé about everything that isn’t his work. It’s like the days leading up to both of his divorces all over again.
All the while he wishes he would feel the strange heat of being watched again. Ignores Louis’ fury on his behalf, ignores Lestat’s disbelieving eyes whenever a session ends. Ignores the strange absence of threats surrounding him, despite how often he knows Louis gets targeted. Chalks it up to being unimportant enough that other vampires don’t see him as a threat. He isn’t sure if he finds that insulting or comforting.
Then one night he comes home. Dinner had been invigorating; his meal had actually put up a bit of a struggle, and he will never tell Louis how much he takes after his Maker in his love of the hunt. He suspects his friend knows, though.
He enters his house, the faint moonlight and streetlight streaming in through closed curtains, casting lines of white and yellow across his floor. And he feels them again. Feels them and looks up to the darkened couch in his living room to see another type of light looking directly back at him.
His heart picks up speed. He hears a pounding in his ears that slowly catches up with the rhythm of his own heart before they synchronize and begin to beat as one. The twin specks of amber move as the dark figure rises from the couch. Silence engulfs the room as Daniel slowly closes the door and steps forward into the dark.
“Hello, beloved,” the shadow says.
Daniel knows that soon, he will have to confront his watcher. That they will probably fight like they always do and say scathing things like they always do. He also thinks that maybe it won’t end with someone storming out if the way those amber eyes are rapidly coming closer is any indication.
He meets Armand in the center, flinging his arms around him in this moment. Allows himself to stop feeling the stare as they both close their eyes. As they both lose themselves in an embrace for the first time in decades. He stops feeling the stare, but the devotion continues to envelop him.