[Cherik/LxL] Invitation from the Damned

Disclaimer : Characters belong to their respectful owners

Fandoms :  X-Men: First Class (2011), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014), The Vampire Chronicles (Anne Rice)

Rating : K

Pairing(s) :  Erik Lehnsherr x Charles Xavier, Lestat de Lioncourt x Louis de Pointe du Lac

Genres : Fanfiction, slash, crossover, AU

Characters : Lestat de Lioncourt, Louis de Pointe du Lac, Charles Xavier, Erik Lehnsherr, mention of other characters

Warning: silliness, crack, breaking the fourth wall, maybe a little OOC

Summary :

There’s one rule in the Lioncourt household: Never bring a mortal home – difficult to clean up and not very good for hygiene. But one day the infamous Rule Breaker broke his own rule: he brought a mortal man to their lair, alive and well.  

A noise was coming with rabid speed.

Louis’s fine dark eyebrows arched up and his blazing eyes tore themselves from the illustrious page they had glued on, peering at the blank space in front of the door as if piercing it. After a few minutes, he closed the magazine on his lap, setting it on the coffee table to begin counting.

One. Two. Three. Fou…

The door burst open, causing a small dust cloud to attack Louis’s respiratory system. Well, that’s what you get for neglecting the hygiene maintenance of the house. The landlord would have been furious provided he had been around. Lestat had seen to that when the two of them picked this little country house for their new lair.

Honeymoon runaway, he called it. Right.

Yet the evening had begun so nice and peaceful, thought the dark-haired vampire with a mental sigh. The dust cloud dissipated to reveal a sight of shiny blond hair and sleek leather.

“Louis!!!”

“Home so soon Lestat?”

A slight cough and an unfamiliar second presence were what Louis hadn’t expected. He immediately tensed. A mortal’s. Alive and well.

To bring a mortal home , what on earth was going on in his lover’s yellow head this time? He who set the rule of not taking mortals to their hideout and was now shattering it? Nonsense. No wonder David had broken their perfect little ménage à trois to take residence in Marius’s manor half a city away. Sound company is vital to a vampire’s well-being. Universal truth.

“Look who I met tonight, Louis!” Lestat’s cheerful voice boomed, a habit he couldn’t get rid of, a memento of his ill-fated, short-lived — but no less glorious, he insisted — stage career.

And never waiting for Louis’s response (most likely scowl), Lestat gingerly set the mortal down the couch, opposite from Louis.

That was a man in neat dress suit that Louis was studying with growing curiosity. Youth had departed from him years ago, yet unlike many mortals Louis had encountered so far, the years were kind to him; instead of looking weak and feeble like others of his age, he was so vibrant and full of life that the vampire unconsciously licked his cold lips. He should taste heavenly, the thought crossed Louis, but was vanquished the moment he was met with the splendid dazzle in the human’s eyes.

Louis stared into his eyes, dumbfounded and blissfully drowned in the vision of his long-lost summer ocean.

“Thank you. I didn’t know my eyes could be compared with such… beauty,” a voice rose, clear and British-accented, much like David’s.

Wait a minute! How could he tell Louis was thinking about his eyes? Was his staring that obvious?

“Terribly sorry,” the mortal apologized with a soft smile – Louis had already fallen in love with its warmth and tenderness. “Your expression is very intriguing and I’ve allowed my curiosity to get the better of me again.”

“How could you…”

Was he implying he was reading Louis’s thought? How was it possible? This man was undeniably mortal and yet a mortal could read a vampire’s thought while the vampire himself couldn’t the mortal.

Thankfully Lestat picked the right time to chime in, “Awesome, isn’t he?”. His forefinger wiggled at his temple. “His telepathy works even better than mine, considering that I can never seem to read you clearly.”

“Lestat, who is this… man?”

If a man was what he could call him – a mortal with the power to extend over an immortal.

Louis was stabbed with a sudden fright. Had any of his thoughts or Lestat’s revealed their true nature? Had he been picking it from their minds?

God help us, what catastrophe was he bringing about this time?

At his two-century-old lover’s horror-stricken face Lestat laughed heartlessly. “Louis, oh, Louis, I wish you were always this easy to read,” he said, patting the mortal’s shoulders with alarming intimacy. Louis was flabbergasted by the man’s easy acceptance.

“Relax, Charles knows who and what we are, mon cher.”

“Thanks to your books,” the mortal, ‘Charles’, explained. Holding out his right hand, he spoke in immaculate British accent.

“My apologies for not having properly introduced myself. I am Charles Xavier, headmaster of the Xavier School for the Gifted.”

“Xavier School for the Gifted?” Louis repeated. The words rang a familiar bell. Somewhat.

“In Westchester, New York,” Charles added, his smile bashful.

It took him a few good seconds to register the geographical distance. “You bought him here from New York? What in the name of heaven were you thinking, Lestat?”

“I was flying when I caught a voice, crystal-clear, entering my head,” Lestat answered with a grimace. Clearly Louis had no idea the volume of his voice when yelling could be very tortuous to a fellow vampire’s ears. Especially to a fellow vampire’s ears, as Charles seemed little affected.

“I saw Mr. Lioncourt in the sky and thought him a mutant,” Charles said, smiling, “so I tried speaking to him.”

“Wait, a mutant?” Louis asked, an incredulous look painted on his unearthly handsome features.

“Mortals with preternatural abilities,” Lestat answered. “A school-full of them and he’s the headmaster. Just like the movies you’ve been obsessed with lately.”

A lean, pale finger pointed to the neat pile of Bluray boxes and stacks of magazines on the nearby shelf. Louis’s head turned briefly before holding up the magazine he had laid on the coffee table, showing a splendid shot of two dashing young actors standing back-to-back: one with his two fingers at his temple and the other with a coin hovering above his open palm. “You mean these extraordinary people really exist?”

Lestat heaved a sigh. His lover usually had a hard time separating actors and the characters they portray, totally merging them and marveling at the cinematic illusions presented on the silver screen as if they were real. This could be very embarrassing sometimes, when the two of them happened to come across one such actor.

“For the thousandth time, Louis, Michael Fassbender and James McAvoy do exist, their characters don’t,” Lestat huffed. “If you so fancy them I could bring them to you and make them…”

A rolled-up magazine hit him on the head before he finished.

Holding his head, Lestat shot his immortal beloved a very dirty look. The Lord, or whoever up above, must really hate him, for each and every of his lover, past or present, possessed a distinct streak of violence. Gabrielle and Akasha were already off the wall; Nicki could be a real vicious monster when angered; Louis had tried to burn him once and often hit him out of the blue every now and then. Even the bookish, seemingly harmless David wasn’t excluded. Once he had made a grievous mistake of jesting about David’s past love affairs. The man had made it clear that Lestat had deserved it, but still…

Charles examined the magazine page before remarked, “Extraordinary is a very generous word, Mr…”

Louis arched his eyebrows playfully, a small challenge if Charles could extract it from his head.

“… Mr. Pointe du Lac,” Charles said, the French rolling smoothly on his tongue. “1791, colonial America. That’s what I call ‘extraordinary’.”

“Just Louis is fine.”

“Likewise,” Lestat added.

“You know what we are and yet you aren’t afraid?”

“From what I’ve read in your books and your minds, I can be rather confident in my well-being. I’m not an evildoer, am I?”

“But he kidnapped you!” Louis pointed at the blond-haired vampire sitting with his legs dangling from the arm, who positively pouted. “A thousand miles from your home!”

“Oh, Louis!” Lestat groaned. “I thought you were done making me the villain.”

“A fascinating and alluring villain… Lestat,” Charles sounded a little hesitant using first-name basis. “Many of my students, myself included, have become your devoted fans after Interview with the Vampire, book and movie alike.”

“I guess I have to thank that actor,” Lestat replied with mild sarcasm, “though his pitiable height has made me a laughing stock of Armand for years. You see, The Frowning Imp has got a tall, dark and handsome Spaniard for his portrayal. Not even close to his appearance, but still…”

Charles chuckled. “The movie’s casting of ‘Armand’ remains one of the biggest mysteries of the movie history.”

“The second being a dark-haired, dark-eyed me in the supposed ‘sequel’,” Lestat scoffed. “I swear that débile of director had attempted to crossbreed me and Nicki!”

“Instead of whining about your actors, why don’t you make yourself useful by getting our guest something to eat and drink?”

“Said someone played by an actor who’s even taller than Marius.”

Another pout. Lestat stood up and dashed out of the door, leaving a puff of dust after.

“Excuse us…” Louis muttered apologetically.

He was back after seven and a half minutes, with French cuisines, white wine to complement the dishes and a steaming pot of Earl Grey.

A little extravagant for a snack. Charles rolled his eyes.

“From a kitchen of a restaurant in town. No killing, rest assured,” Lestat turned to Charles as he set the food on their small coffee table.

Only then was Charles able to enjoy the vampires’ hospitability.

Their conversation spanned for hours into the late night, surprisingly better than Louis had expected. With his intelligence and knowledge that could impress an immortal, Charles handled the flow of the talk gracefully, from the touchy topics like immortals, mutants and the everlasting questions of morality to milder ones like the places they had been, the wonders they had been fortunate to witness. For a mortal, Charles did travel a lot. Well, that was a privilege of having a private jet coupled with a private pilot at his disposal.

Lestat’s iridescence eyes widened at the mention of a private jet. Louis shot him a murderous look, already knowing what was running in his pampered yellow head. Next he would say he wanted one so he could show off with Gabrielle, David and Marius while making fun of Armand’s absurd superstition of air travel. Or was it Mael, with the fear of flight? Oh whatever! The point is, Lestat was being absurd. Again.

Charles was wearing a mischievous smile as Lestat bombarded him with queries about acquiring a jet. But otherwise he made no comment on the Brat Prince’s obnoxious immaturity.

He was indulging Lestat, Louis realized, the way an old, intimate friend did another instead of mere strangers who had just met for a few short hours. Not to mention a vampire!

“My partner is no less difficult than Lestat,” Charles spoke to Louis with his mind, tapping his finger against his temple. The timbre of his mental voice was warm and deep, resonating in Louis’s own mind like the sound of a gong. Once again he felt tremendous affection for the man.

That rang an ominous note. If even Louis himself was heavily seduced by Charles’s charisma then Lestat must have already been madly in love with him, which often led to one thing…

Oh God, please let it not be like David’s case.

Lestat spoke as soon as the fear went rampant in Louis’s chest. “Well, Charles, I really find you captivating and thus have every heart to share with you the Dark Gift. Consider it a formal and personal invitation from myself.”

For the first time in the hours here, a look of surprise found its way to Charles’s countenance. Louis was intrigued. Had he not been able to pick it from Lestat before the words were formed on the vampire’s lips?

“I know how to shield myself,” Lestat sent him a vampire whisper, the volume of which only vampires could hear, “against a telepath. Had The Frowning Imp not taught you the trick in all your years staying together?”

Louis willingly ignored the deliberate taunt – still bitter and jealous of Louis’s time with Armand in his absence after decades – and sent him a friendly reminder, “Don’t be rash. Imagine Marius’s face if he learns of this.”

“Marius will be delighted to have another intellectual individual in our family.”

“And David’s face.”

“David will be pleased to have a fellow Englishman to express his love for the Queen.”

“Lestat!”

Louis growled, his eyes blazing like two will-o’-the-wisp flames and his fangs visible from his parted pale lips.

Lestat appeared unaffected by the rage of his lover, yet he unconsciously shifted on his couch. Closer to Charles, it seemed.

The air pressure in the living room was suddenly several times higher.

“Thank you for your kind offer, Lestat,” Charles broke the tension, thankfully. “But I have to refuse this enormous gift.”

Louis’s rage deflated. Charles still had a lot of sense, as Louis expected of such an outstanding individual.

“Why? You told me earlier that it is ‘extraordinary’, the Dark Gift.”

Louis’s rage flared up like gasoline catching fire.

Don’t push your luck, Lestat!

Sipping his tear, Charles calmly replied, “It is true. However, I am too grateful for being mutant to give it up for another kind of existence. Besides, I still have a school to run and, well, a difficult partner to handle.”

A light chuckle ended his sentence.

“I can turn your partner too, if you wish,” Lestat said flatly. A gift for everyone. The generosity of the Prince…

… which deserved another passionate kiss from the rolled-up magazine.

“Speaking of this partner, won’t they be worried that you’re gone… sort of kidnapped?” Louis asked. The thought had just crossed his mind, forgotten by Charles’s engrossing insights and perspective.

Silence stretched on after Charles’s dismal utterance “Oh dear.”

“Seriously Lestat, you just swooped down, caught him and carried him here?”

His shrug was enough an answer.

“And you let him, a vampire, take you?” Louis stared at him incredulously.

Judging from Charles’s bashful look, he had probably had it entirely slipped off his mind.

They made quite a pair, didn’t they? Louis felt the need to facepalm himself.

That was when the ground shook violently. The three watched in astonishment as hideous cracks manifested on the walls surrounding them. “Erik!” It was Charles’s voice muttering, immediately drown by the terrible cacophony of brick and cement being crushed.

The moon was shining brilliantly in the dark velvet sky. The two vampires found themselves mesmerized by her sheer and immense beauty.

As to why they could see the moon, the walls of their house had been cleanly torn off, together with the roof over their heads and now both were hovering above them like a giant open box.

Lestat and Louis, for their unlife of over two centuries, hadn’t seen it coming at all.

At the center of the gigantic box was a man in costume and a funny helmet, his cape fluttering majestically behind him as he shouted, “Charles! Are you alright? I swear if you even touch him…”

“Just put the bloody walls and roof down, Erik!” Charles shouted at the top of his lungs, startling both vampires.

The mess of brick and cement remained dangerously floating but at last the man descended.

In perfect ignorance of two powerful vampires’ presence, the man called Erik rushed past them to Charles, embracing him. “Are you hurt? Any injuries?”

Ah, the ‘difficult partner’, Lestat and Louis exchanged a knowing look.

Quite shaken (literally) by Erik’s overwhelming emotions conveyed in his crushing bear-hug, Charles managed to speak, “I’m alright Erik. Perfectly fine. I’ve met two new friends and we were sort of… blinded from everything else but our conversation.”

The ‘abduction’ conveniently omitted.

“Even Jean and Emma’s calling out for you?”

Charles’s grey eyebrows arched up as he looked as Lestat, questioningly. Lestat’s reply was a shrug. However, to Louis he gave a triumphant note. Lestat – one, mutants – zero.

“Forgotten, I told you,” Charles answered. Looking behind Erik’s back, he asked, “Where are the others?”

“Out with Hank and Raven. I came in first to scout.”

Lestat and Louis looked at each other and then at the floating remains of their walls and roof. “You call that ‘scout’?” Lestat scoffed. “Have you no stealth?”

“Who are you?” Erik’s eyes squinted at the pair, finally acknowledging their presence.

Lestat rose from the couch, taking Louis with him as he strode to the mutants. Putting his arm around Charles’s shoulders, he smiled as impertinently as his nickname suggested, flashing his perfect pointed canine at Erik.

Heh, the man must be thinking them as two brats.

To his disappointment, Erik appeared unfazed.

Well, to speak for a man with shark teeth himself…

“Charles’s friends,” Lestat said, looking at Erik straight in the eyes, “and the owners of the house you just demolished.”

Tension sparked between the two as they locked gaze. Charles and Louis glanced at each other. Difficult partner. Both mentally sighed in unison.

“For the last time, please put them down, Erik. They are really my friends and they mean me no harm.”

“They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

“God, no!”

“They didn’t kidnap you, did they?”

“A thousand times, no.” In one swift movement Charles got rid of Erik’s funny helmet. “Can you put that down now? Or must I make you?”

Erik maintained the best poker face his aging countenance could manage. He put the walls and roof down nonetheless. They collapsed like crushed biscuits the moment they touched the ground.

Lestat and Louis stared at the hopeless pile of rubble with despair. Charles sent them wave after wave of apology as well as promise for compensation.

Mon dieu…” Louis mumbled, gazing at Erik and Charles’ disappearing figures as they left the immortal pair to their ‘house’. “…he’s indeed difficult. Much more difficult than you. More reasons for me to admire Charles.”

Lestat huffed, kicking away a piece of brick at his feet and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“He strikes me as similar to Akasha. The kind that would rain missiles on someone if they unfortunately offended him.”

“Imagine Marius and the others’ faces if you gave such a man the blood.”

“Actually,” Lestat said, stroking his chin in attempt of a wise look, “I’m tempted to see what kind of vampire would a mutant make? Would he be the same as us or would he possess powers like a Titan? Maybe I’ll try coaxing Charles into the idea the next time we meet.”

A considerably big piece of rubble hit him square in the face, causing him to tumble down.

“I was merely posing an interesting and plausible hypothesis, Louis,” Lestat moaned, clutching his bloodied nose.

“I was merely following Marius’s instructions when you pose ‘an interesting and plausible hypothesis’, Lestat,” Louis replied flatly.

“I’ve just realized I don’t really like this house.” Lestat stood up, brushing dirt off his T-shirt and jeans. His nose had already healed, leaving only a few drops of blood on the front of his T-shirt. “Now it’s a chance to get a new one. What do you say, Manhattan? I sure miss Broadway.”

“Right,” Louis said. “You’ll take care of that since you brought it all yourself.”

“True, but… Hey, Louis, where are you going?”

“To Marius and David’s place.”

“It’s late,” Lestat said, matter-of-factly.

“Marius doesn’t mind. Neither does David.”

“If they’re not home?”

“Then I’ll go to Daniel and Armand’s. Surely Armand doesn’t mind.” A taunting note in his tone.

“They don’t have any spare coffins.” Lestat’s defeated rebuke.

“Too bad. I may have to share with Armand.”

Without turning his head, Louis said. His steps quickened with preternatural speed. Soon his white shirt was the only thing visible of him in the darkness.

“Come pick me when you’ve cleaned up after your mess. Until then, mon prince.

“Hey, Louis, Hey!!!”

His calls went pitifully unanswered as Louis’s slender figure had already melted in the night.

End

*Note: This is my attempt to crossbreed my two favorite fandoms. It’s totally understandable if it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

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