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Lestat had long come to terms with the fact that he would never see Louis again. So when Louis showed up at his doorstep, he figured it was no more than one of his many hallucinations. But then came the apology that was not an apology but something more, and the embrace, and then the storm, fighting to tear him from Louis’s arms—but he was no hallucination, and Louis was stronger than any storm. And then he was taken to a lavish hotel room.
A room with a single bed and a single coffin.
“You can have the bed,” Louis says once they’ve both cleaned up. “I haven’t slept in a coffin since…well,” he trails off, avoiding Lestat’s eyes.
Banishment, Lestat thinks. That must be it.
“But I missed it,” Louis continues, “So.” He gestures at the coffin. “Curtains are long enough, I made sure. Left a Do Not Disturb sign on the door while you were in the shower too.”
Lestat nods uncertainly, really looking at the bed for the first time since they entered the room. He hasn’t slept in a bed since…well.
He chuckles quietly, able to appreciate the irony of their situation as much as he dreads it. Louis gives him a curious smile and bids him good night before slipping into the coffin. Lestat tries not to show just how much he craves it. The coffin, and Louis. The kind of closeness he hasn’t felt in a century.
He climbs into the bed, pulling the sheets up to his neck as he rests on his back. He tries to focus on the muted sound of Louis’s breathing and his heartbeat as he closes his eyes. For a brief moment, he thinks it might work…but then he sees him.
Wolfkiller.
Lestat’s eyes fly open again, his breath coming out harsh. He misses the sound of the coffin opening completely.
“Are you alright?” Louis asks. Lestat turns his head to look at him. He gives him a smile meant to assuage his worry, but it has the opposite effect. “What’s wrong?”
Had this been any other night, Lestat would have said nothing, I’m fine. Had the question come from anyone else, he would’ve lied. “I haven’t slept in a bed since the night I was taken.”
Louis considers this abnormally honest admission with a tight frown. Lestat doesn’t think he can handle his pity now. Not here, not after everything. He turns away to stare up at the ceiling. He’ll grow tired eventually, and…
“C’mere.”
Lestat blinks, repeating that single word (Two words? He isn’t sure.) in his head again and again, trying to make sense of them. Surely Louis isn’t asking him to join him in the coffin? But then what else could he possibly mean?
“Lestat. I can feel you panicking. Get out of the bed and come sleep with me.”
The effect those words have on him is immediate. Lestat deflates like an oversized balloon, unaware as he was that he was holding his breath to begin with. The question comes out of him before he thinks to ask it. “Is that alright with you?”
Louis huffs an amused little breath, then “Wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t.”
That’s all Lestat needs to propel himself out of bed and halfway on top of Louis so fast the latter jumps with surprise before scooting over to make room for him.
“Should’ve said something if it was that bad,” Louis says, shaking his head as Lestat squeezes himself into the coffin. “I don’t want you to suffer in silence.”
“Thank you,” Lestat says simply, adjusting his position to crowd Louis as little as he can manage in the tight space. He isn’t brave enough now to say the rest.
Now safe in the quiet dark of the coffin, Lestat finds himself dozing off in minutes. He thinks he might be able to sleep more soundly than he has in decades even with the uncomfortable position, but then…
“C’mere,” Louis says once more, pulling him gently by the shoulder, urging him closer yet. “Don’t make yourself uncomfortable for my sake.”
Tentatively, Lestat throws an arm over his midsection. When he doesn’t react beyond squeezing his shoulder again, he scoots closer to rest his head on his chest. “Is this alright?” he asks.
Louis shuffles slightly, and then his fingers are in Lestat’s hair.
“Always,” he says.