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[Louis almost doesn't allow himself to be pulled in. He feels the kiss to his cheek but, he doesn't feel he deserves it after all he's done.]

I manipulated you, Lestat. I'm toxic.

[Because it's true. Who would provoke their loved one and then act on that loved one's greatest fear?

He's nothing worth loving.]

[Lestat exhales slowly, seeing the wheels of Louis' mind spinning. He presses a kiss to Louis' mouth, lingering even if Louis does not return it.]

As if I am some saint. As if I do not have my own moments of poisonous words.

[He leans his forehead to the crook of Louis' neck, drinking in the scent of him. Louis' heartbeat thuds beneath his skin, and Lestat aches knowing he could not leave him, that he never wishes to.]

Just stay. Please, please just stay.

[Louis's fingers play at Lestat's shirt, his heart continuing to sink even as Lestat kisses him.]

I'll stay if you do.

[If Lestat still wants him. If Lestat can stand what Louis has done to him.]

Of course I will.

[He runs his fingers across Louis' back, fingers twisting in his shirt. Lestat could not leave him, not for this or anything else, and it aches him that the dark corners of Louis' mind might make him think otherwise.]

You are my heart, cher. I want to walk eternity with you.

[Louis leans into Lestat's shoulder, his arms curling stronger around Lestat.]

I'm so sorry, Lestat.

[The fact that Lestat wants him back in any capacity speaks to the depths of change that have affected Lestat.]

It's all right, my Louis. It's all right.

[He gathers Louis in closer to him, one arm wrapping up his back as he leans in. Lestat drags his nails in soothing lines down Louis' scalp, tracing gentle trails through his hair.]

You cannot scare me away so easily as all that. I wish to have you with me always.

I won't forgive myself.

[Louis remains where he is, half slung in Lestat's arms.]

[Lestat sighs softly, nestling his face against the side of Louis' head.]

Ever the Catholic you are, my Louis. If only there were a priest here for you to confess to.

[Still gently stroking his nails through his hair, he murmurs:]

Shall I give you another penance to pay? Something else to let you atone, if it eases your soul?

Not sure if anything will ease it right now.

[Louis doesn't understand how Lestat is forgiving him so easily. Lestat has every right to be angry with him. To hate him. Louis leans up and looks at Lestat, really looks at him. How? How can Lestat forgive him?

Yes, Louis will stay, but perhaps he will bury himself in books as he replays the incident in his head.]

How are you not pissed at me?

I am angry with you.

[It burns less brightly now than it did a moment before, but it's still there. Now it sits as an unhappy frustration -- at Louis pushing for things he knew Lestat did not want to discuss, at being punished by Louis when the answers he'd asked for appeared. At how Louis had wanted to hurt him and did it so easily, even if it shifted to regret.]

But I don't want you to leave, either.

[Well there's one thing that makes sense in all of this. Lestat's anger is well-earned and Louis nods.]

I won't leave, Lestat. I promise.

[He won't use Lestat's fear against him ever, ever again.]

Good. Good.

[If there is frustration there still, then he knows it will dissipate so long as Louis stays. It can be worked past. They've managed through much worse than this before.

Lestat lets out a long exhale, face still buried into Louis' neck, hands still curled against him.]

I just want you to be happy, Louis.

[Whatever form that takes. If it means whoring himself out, fucking who he's told, then fair enough. If it means the gallery, the house, if it means keeping quiet when the city makes demands meant to shame him, then that's what he will do.]

I know, Lestat.

[Louis leans in to press a kiss to Lestat’s forehead and lingers there.]

I know.

[He still doesn’t want Lestat to whore himself out or put himself at risk for Louis’s happiness, but he doesn’t want to broach that subject again now.]

I love you.

I love you, too, cher.

[He feels entirely drained and tired, bloody tears still rimming his eyes. But he loves Louis more than anything else across the centuries, and to have him there in his arms is a warmth that he can hold onto. It's enough to blot out any lingering anger, enough that he knows it will die down given time.]

Let's go upstairs, lay down. You're probably exhausted.

[And Louis will join him, but he's not sure how much sleep he might get.]

[Lestat nods at that, the emotion winding down through him. He smiles faintly, nestling into Louis' neck once more before pulling back.]

All right. Let us go upstairs, then.

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OK to wrap here?

yep!