Daniel reels him back and Louis goes, laughing softly into the kiss. Poorly timed amusement fading away as Louis sinks into Daniel, no space left between them. Louis' knee hitched up over Daniel's thigh, fingers in his hair. Whole body going loose, flushed warm under Daniel's hands.

They should talk about it. Louis should do better, give Daniel the conversation before they pitch headlong into anything.

Except they are something. They've always been. Louis has been serious for fifty years. Serious even when Daniel was half a memory, when they were missing pieces of each other.

They can talk about it. They will. Daniel will ask his questions and Louis will answer, and they'll argue a little, maybe. (Probably.) Louis tells himself all of these things as they kiss, as he licks into Daniel's mouth, crowds him like they aren't already as close as can possibly be. Tells him, "I'd give you anything," between one kiss and the next. Bites down on his lower lip, breathes, "Anything" against his mouth, easy promises to make Daniel, who has already offered this to Louis.

Easy to promise him anything. They've survived everything together. Louis trusted him with all of himself before they even knew who they were to each other.