Chapter Text
“I used to do this with my daughters,” Daniel says. “They’d never be able to sleep through the noise, so we’d quietly get bundled up and go for a drive. Find somewhere to park and watch the sky while their mother got some time alone.”
“Nice of you.” Louis joins him in leaning against the balcony, face to the night sky. The show hasn’t started yet but the excitement of the city is palpable, thrumming with tension. Any minute now.
Daniel welcomes him to look through his memories. Flipping through them like a photo album, Louis sees a younger, more tired version of him wrangling two little girls. Pink hats over wild curls, mittens stuffed on tiny hands, a secret smile through the rear view mirror. These memories are warm, the scent of hot cocoa wafting in through his mind.
At the present, Daniel’s itching for a hot toddy.
“We could go out and find you something to drink,” Louis offers. “I’m sure there’s no shortage of spiked blood tonight.” Something he’s left in the past: his unintentional haughtiness over the source of their meals. Taking a freshly turned Daniel under his wing was the catalyst, in a way. He may not join in draining Daniel’s victims, but Louis has revealed himself to be an excellent hunting partner, when they have the opportunity.
“Nah. I’ll grab something from the fridge in a bit.” Daniel shoots a glance over at him. “I mean, if you have enough to share.”
A small smile spreads across Louis’ face. “I’ve got more than enough to share. For as long as you want to stay, and then some. However long I can get you to stay.”
Sounds like a proposition, he thinks, and doesn’t really try to hide it from Louis.
It’s whatever you want it to be, Daniel.
He lets that linger. Change of subject, then. If and how Louis had celebrated his previous New Year’s evenings. With Lestat, with Claudia, with Armand, and the years between. Off the record, of course. Louis is getting better at not asking for it, and Daniel’s getting better at not taking mental notes. He likes this, the easy conversations without pretense of an interview. Just two friends. It wasn’t always so simple.
“And what’s blondie up to tonight?”
Louis smiles at him, a knowing look in his eyes. “He’s back in the studio this week, throwing money at the recording engineers to stay open on a holiday night.” It gets a chuckle out of Daniel. He likes Lestat, likes to push his buttons and test the limits of his restraint in their interviews. Likes even more the fact that he has Louis all to himself tonight.
Still, he can’t seem to shake the insecurities of an old man. “You didn’t want to spend the holiday there? With him?”
“I’m exactly where I want to be,” Louis states, so genuine it makes his knees weak.
And then the sky erupts, and Louis’ eyes are off him. It’s a goddamned welcome relief, gives him a moment to wrangle the twisty flip in his stomach. He rolls his tongue in his mouth just to feel the weight of it. Turns his face to the sky to watch the show.
The colors are spectacular, his vision sharp and clear in the night sky. Light pollution is nothing to a vampire’s telescopic eyes; the stars swirling and bursting behind the display. Daniel is enraptured by it all. Explosions of yellow, white, red, green. Pink hearts litter the Dubai skyline. A giggle bubbles up from his chest, bright and easy, surprising him. Louis, too, who turns to look at him with awe, like his face is something captivating. Like he’s worth looking at, chosen over the light show happening above them.
“Happy New Year, Daniel.” It’s quiet, Louis' soft voice nearly drowned out by the near constant boom of fireworks.
His mouth is dry. When did it get so dry? “Not a bad start,” he rasps.
“No?”
Daniel shakes his head, can’t shake the smile pulling at the corners of his lips.
A spray of purple highlights the curve of Louis’ cheekbone. He’s so focused on it that he almost misses the hand on his cheek, faintly warm. Then the palm slides back, fingers curled in the hair behind his ear, so gentle on his scalp.
It’s Louis who comes to him, this time. It feels like safety, tastes like home, when their lips touch. The crackle of a hearth from their lips to the soles of his feet. It’s so fucking nice. Nice, to be held like this, like he’s something treasured, something loved. No one has held him in over a decade.
A firm but still gentle pressure at the base of his spine; Louis grounding him. His lifeline. Daniel smiles into the kiss even as he trembles.