They can finish each other's sentences but Louis still doesn't understand that place he goes. Maybe it's just because it's never so silent in his own head, always narrating and commentating and remembering.

Though right now he's not thinking about much of anything except the slender cut of Armand's waist, smiling a little to himself as his hand pushes up the hem of the pajama shirt just enough to ride the waistband of the pants, skim a couple fingers over his stomach.

"Hi," Louis says again, coÿ, even though what his body is saying is: been thinking about you, been wanting you. A third person in the house and Armand's charade making him aware of them all over again. He smiles as he leans in and takes a kiss like he's stealing it, quick and firm.