Work Text:
In the quiet dark of the coffin Louis is stripped bare in more ways than one but it is the bareness of self that he often finds most disarming, the ease with which he curls into Lestat’s arms and quietly murmurs to him things he had never before told anyone else.
Louis presses his nose to Lestat's neck as he does, slightly chilled as there is no blood in Louis’ belly to keep him flushed and warm, but Lestat makes no complaints, merely holds him closer and strokes his hands over Louis’ spine, soothing up and down motions that make Louis' eyelashes flutter.
Things come easier in the dark; touch being the most obvious, especially in the early days when shame still occasionally sits hot and thick in his stomach even amidst the blood delirium, but truth is perhaps the most valuable as Louis starts to loose it from his throat, this strange, intoxicating exorcism of self as he tells Lestat of the small and large things he has housed in his heart.
He remembers feeling something similar when he had first sat with Lestat on their bench and slowly opened up, bit by bit, piece by piece, but there's a world of difference between the parceling of himself in those moments to this unfiltered baring of his soul. Like confession almost, the rawness of it, the exposure, but it doesn't leave Louis feeling flayed open the same, maybe because with Lestat all sins are transmuted in the dark. Lestat may be no priest but in these moments Louis can't help but almost think of him as an alchemist, taking the worst parts of Louis and glazing them gold under his glittering eyes and crooning voice.
There are still things Louis can't bear to speak of even now. Things that feel too raw and fresh even with all of eternity ahead of him. The memory of that last sunrise chokes his throat at the most random of times but enfolded into Lestat's arms Louis can speak of other things, like the sweet joy in Paul's face when they would dance together, laughing at the click of their heels and the exaggerated faces Louis would pull just to elicit the sound more.
“How I would have loved to see it,” Lestat murmurs once Louis’ words have all dried up. “Beauty and grace that you are, I'm sure it was nothing but magnificent.”
Louis blinks, tilting his head up from where he had been pressing his nose into Lestat's neck to meet his waiting gaze. Immediately Lestat smiles and brings the inside of Louis’ wrist up to his mouth, kissing the dead pulse there while holding Louis’ gaze all the while and eyes brightening when Louis’ heart starts to kick like a drum under his mouth. Louis feels both breathless and immeasurably fond and huffs out a laugh. His beautiful ridiculous man.
“Wasn't all beauty and grace in the beginning, I'll tell you that much.”
“Oh?” Lestat says, his voice sounding like a smile, his mouth having moved from Louis' wrist to trail kisses up the inside of his arm. Louis suddenly can't bear to have it hidden from view so he angles up Lestat's head to kiss him and feel that smile against his mouth, Lestat's next words an exhalation of warm air between kisses. “I find that hard to believe. Everything you do, you do beautifully, Louis. Everything you do, everything you are. I'm sure dancing is much the same.”
“Yeah?” Louis breathes back, deliciously giddy. There is arousal, of course, but more than anything it's the reality of it: them enclosed in the secret world of their coffin, two lovers murmuring to each other in the shadowed dark. “How about you, huh? Glittering gold that you are. Must have turned plenty of heads on a dance floor.”
“Mhm, perhaps one or two,” Lestat says with a false modesty that sits about as well as an ill-fitting suit and Louis bites his lip for it and soothes it with his tongue, delighting in the hitch of Lestat's breath and how his arms tighten around him. “But none I would like to enchant as much as you.”
Enchant is the right word for it. Louis could almost picture it: Lestat in all his old world finery at one of those Parisian balls, candlelight catching in the spun gold of his hair. In his imagination the dance floor is absent of people but the whole world still seems to hold its breath as Lestat meets Louis’ eyes and smiles and bows over his hand, lingering for a breath longer than appropriate and murmuring to him of his beauty perhaps or the gracefulness of his form before they do a turn together about the floor.
Louis' imagination fails him then and he feels strangely bereft for all of two heartbeats before he remembers he has the flesh and blood Lestat in his arms. He doesn't have to settle for mere imaginings, can pull back from the sweet temptation of Lestat's mouth to brush a tender thumb over his cheekbone and breathe like a challenge into the space between them: “Yeah? Then how about you show me what you got?"
Lestat's face seems to crack open with its delight but there is something vulnerable in his eyes and the way he breathes back, full of tremulous hope: “You wish to dance with me, mon amour?”
It's not something he would have ever allowed himself to dream of before, to dance cheek to cheek with another man like lovers would or—he swallows dryly, hope fluttering in his stomach—like husband and wife, like bride and groom. It's almost sickening how much he wants it now. Louis nods shakily and swoops in again to kiss Lestat's mouth, hoping to chase some of that vulnerability away.
"Yeah, Les," Louis says, choking back the honey that almost fell as easy as breathing from his lips. "Let's dance."
They take up positions in the center of their coffin room. There is no band or orchestra to accompany them but Louis finds that it suits him and Lestat just fine. The moment feels almost too fragile to disrupt and as Lestat slips his hand into Louis' and curls an arm around his waist Louis can't help but think the rhythm of their shared hearts is music enough.
Lestat leads him in a waltz about the room, his eyes gleaming as Louis glides effortlessly through the steps. “Just as I thought,” he says, his cheek pressed to Louis', flushed with blood and round with his smile. “A natural.”
“I have danced before, you know,” Louis says, amused. “Just not…” He swallows suddenly, the words somehow eluding him. With a man would be true enough but Lestat isn't just any man and Louis can't imagine a world where he would let a man other than Lestat lead him like this much less hold Louis like a precious thing in his arms. With you feels a little too raw and honest when he already feels like an exposed nerve so he settles for an inadequate: “Like this.”
“Yes,” Lestat says, strangely hushed. “It is new for me as well.”
Louis wants to call bullshit but then Lestat pulls his head back and Louis catches sight of his eyes and maybe he can't read Lestat's thoughts like he could any random mortal's but in a rare moment of perfect understanding Louis doesn't need to, not when all that love and cautious hope is reflected right back at him. Louis smiles at him, all soft eyes and soft mouth, and Lestat looks cleaved open for a moment before something mischievous passes over his face and he spins Louis in a twirl, flashing his teeth when Louis can't help but laugh as he is spun back into Lestat's waiting arms.
Louis’ cheeks are starting to ache from how much he's smiling. “How long have you been waiting to pull that one?”
Lestat twirls him again and then holds Louis devastatingly close, a hand drifting from the center of his spine to rest a little too low on Louis’ back. “Long enough,” he says and leans in to catch his mouth, shamelessly groping at his ass while Louis laughs into the kiss.
Eventually they abandon all notions of a waltz and are just slow dancing, exchanging lazy kisses as they sway in each other's arms. Louis presses his mouth to Lestat's blood warmed cheek, a quiet thrill running through him at the notion of having this more than once. Maybe there will be music next time or maybe Lestat will hum in his ear and show him dances that have gone out of fashion or maybe Louis will show Lestat how to tap dance and maybe it will hurt and heal all at once. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
“I have a couple moves of my own to show you," Louis says through the new tightness in his throat, trying to pull Lestat back with him towards the coffin, but Lestat won't be budged and keeps kissing along the line of Louis' neck.
“Ssh.” Louis wants to put up a protest but he's spellbound by Lestat, too taken by the brightness of his eyes, the luminescence of his smile. Enchanted, Lestat had said. Louis thinks of that word again, remembering that night at the Fair Play Saloon, paralyzed in his seat as he met those bewitching eyes for the first time. The phantom echo of Miss Lily ringing in his ears: You're his destiny, Louis. “Just a bit longer, my love.”
Louis nods and rests his cheek against Lestat's hair as they continue to dance to no music, closing his eyes because he can now fill in the blanks of that imaginary Parisian dance floor. He pictures him and Lestat waltzing down the length of it, prettier than any painting. Pictures Lestat's name being the only one on his dance card, pictures Lestat bowing over his hand again at the end of the night, breathlessly imploring Louis for the opportunity to see him again. Pictures Lestat pressing Louis against a wall in the shadows, scandalously close, and tasting Louis' mouth for the first time. Pictures Lestat dropping to his knees and tasting a lot more.
Louis opens his eyes to find Lestat already gazing back at him. His heart stutters in his throat and he hears Lestat's trip alongside him and imagining is all well and good but nothing beats the physical tangibility of Lestat in his arms, the way Lestat smiles at Louis before Louis realizes he is even smiling back.
“Thank you,” Louis says, just as hushed as Lestat before, and sweetly kisses the corner of Lestat's mouth, too filled with love to not let it seep through every word and touch, “for the dance."
"Anything for you," Lestat says, his big hands framing Louis' face, and just looks at Louis for a long moment, long enough that Louis almost starts to feel restless, before kissing him with equal parts passion and sweetness and making to twirl Louis again, grinning madly while Louis throws back his head and laughs.