Closed

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras is on a mission. It is not in the least like any of the self-imposed missions he has given himself in the past; but he is as determined as he ever is. (Yes, he will admit to himself that this is a distraction, but it is a new and pleasant one; and he could do with some pleasant and educational exercises in good company.)

With that in mind, as stubborn as ever, he goes in search of Laertes. He is certainly more sober than he was yesterday, having spent his morning in consideration and working on some writing—one of those pamphlets for Magnus they had been speaking of. His fingers show the evidence of that, they are smudged and have a few ink blots on them; but he is smiling nonetheless as he knocks at Laertes’ door. There he stands, waiting sober as a priest; although it is hard to say that considering the still apparent bruises at his throat that were too difficult to hide with a cravat.

Comments

[timebethine]

Laertes brushes a kiss over the point of Lucien's cheekbone and folds him closer, as though he could gather up all that banked heat in his hands. "Ay, for now. Good food, good company, and every pleasure thou couldst want."

[untamedantinous]

“Assuming I did not burn the almonds,” with a grin mostly into that shoulder. He is happy enough to stay as he is for now, leaning against the other man quite contentedly. “Barring that, I have no doubt the food will be as excellent as the company.”

[timebethine]

Then perhaps they'll hold each other until the fish is done, warm and comfortable in each other's arms.