A glimpse, displaced memory. Not his, Daniel's, slipping past. Louis lets it go. Daniel is vulnerable enough as it is without Louis prying after any given fragment of thought that catches his interest.

But he is aware of the process. How Daniel tries, tries again, troubleshooting. Something innate, skill Daniel has already in his possession, that severs himself from the drowning flood of mortal thought.

Louis' hands have shifted into his hair. Set their foreheads together. Daniel's hands are gripping tight at his waist, and Louis has not dislodged him. Senses Daniel to be steadier but not steady, and so remains. Their noses brush. Their breath rises and falls in time. A passing awareness of too close, set to the side.

"I got you," comes soft, reassuring. "And you got hold of it. You're still here."