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[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.

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[timebethine]

"We'll begin with what impatience can best serve, then," Laertes laughs. "In the box--" he points to the refrigerator "--seek out butter, garlic, and spinach. And in the cabinet, almonds cut to fine slivers. Fear not to know whether thou wilt find them; this place will answer thy need."

[untamedantinous]

"Alright." He heads over that way and inspects the refrigerator, returning after a moment or two with the requested items. He sets them neatly on the counter and turns to Laertes, arching an eyebrow for further instructions. (He does wish to distract him in other ways, a little, but now is not the time for such things.)

[timebethine]

"Good man," he says approvingly. "Slice the spinach up fine. More of it than thou think'st thou needest; spinach cooks to an insufficiency, and we'll be feeding four."

[untamedantinous]

He nods and sets to it with a will; though it’s clear he is not entirely used to the work, he does at least know the basics of handling a knife. Some of his chops are certainly not chef-worthy, but it is passable enough. “Will that do?”

[timebethine]

"Ay, that looks good." Having finished deboning the fish, Laertes cleans his hands and wraps his arms around Lucien's waist. "Art well?"

[untamedantinous]

“A little sore, but well enough.” He turns to press a mostly-gentle kiss to Laertes’ lips, smiling. It is a mark of how easy he feels around the other young man that he moves this freely, is this affectionate. There is no marble statue here, only Enjolras, human and warm and alive.

[timebethine]

Laertes has to laugh a little, still half-astonished to have Enjolras in his arms. "Is it to early to ask what thou wouldst have me be to thee?"

[untamedantinous]

He considers this for a long moment, leaning back against the counter a little. “I don’t know how this sort of thing usually goes,” he admits, with a wry grin. “But I do know I like this. I know you’ve your husband; and if he does not mind it then neither shall I, but I —“ He laughs and shakes his head. “I am not being clear, I apologize. I would like this to continue, whatever we may call it, if you would as well.”

[timebethine]

"I would. I have a great want of a good friend--and I would like as much to talk about Voltaire with thee, and to help thee learn a printing press, as I would to take thee to bed." He offers another gentle kiss, just a mothwing brush of lips, and then returns to his work with the fish. "And I'll be a tyrant to thee in the kitchen, but thou may'st overthrow me whenever thou likest. Chop the garlic fine; I ought to have had thee do that first."

[untamedantinous]

He nods and settles into chopping the garlic, trying his best to get the skins off before he does so. “Well, make no unjust laws and I shan’t overthrow you.” He shoots a teasing grin Laertes’ way. “It would be quite easy to build a barricade in the kitchen. But to our earlier point; that is good. It does feel odd to —I cannot call myself a lover; I think, but we can figure that out.”

[timebethine]

"Ay, I have a husband and a friend who share my bed, but thou art somewhere in between. This is new to me, as well. We'll find a language for it, or we'll make one." He tosses a pat of butter into a pan and clicks on the stove, saying, "Cook first the garlic and almonds--not long; both will burn quickly. Then mix them with the spinach until it softens. And lo, thou wilt have cooked thy first dish."

[untamedantinous]

“Your husband does not mind, then?” It’s —odd, to speak of such things so freely with another man; but there is much that is odd about this place. Regardless, he continues with his appointed task, hopefully not managing to burn anything too badly.

“It is —so free here,” he adds, thoughtful now. “It is one of the things I like about this place; even if it can be dull.”

[timebethine]

"My husband has more lovers than I," Laertes laughs. "And he was the one who encouraged me to kiss thee, so if thou didst enjoy thyself, lay that joy at his feet." He starts spooning a sauce of butter, capers, and garlic over the fish laid out on their tray, then sprinkles salt and grinds pepper. At last, he lays out sliced lemons and shaved fennel over top of them. "This is a free place, indeed. Whatever mischief thou wouldst like to try to enliven it, I think it would be welcome."

[untamedantinous]

"I have not come up with anything yet, but I'm certain I will sooner or later." He's finished his own dish as well, now, having successfully not burned the almonds or the spinach. "That does look delicious, well done."

[timebethine]

"It will look better once it's cooked. Ah, I should've had thee make the spinach while the fish was roasting--but too late now to change it." He slides the fish into the oven, then cleans bits of fennel off of his hands and wipes them on a towel. "I fear that, when I set out to accomplish a task, I begin in all directions at once, and make little progress in any of them."

[untamedantinous]

“We can let it sit and then warm it again later, perhaps.” He starts carrying his cutting board and utensils to the sink to rinse them off.

“I used to be the same, Combeferre trained me out of it well enough when we started having meetings.” There’s a slight grin. “Everything needed to be done at once.”

[timebethine]

"I've found, to my great relief, that there are few enough things in the world that cannot be begun anywhere. The clock must keep cycling his hour, but haply I will arrive at the right place eventually." He smiles. "Tell me more of Combeferre. Thy first lieutenant, thy doctor and philosopher, was he not?" Almost my other half, Lucien had said amidst the clover, and Laertes wants to make space for that love to be preserved between them.

[untamedantinous]

“Yes,” with a fond smile. “He was my first friend in Paris, we encountered one another at school—he would take classes in most anything he could find; but preferred the progress of medicine and humanity to the progress of law. Where I am fire, he is the light of the future. He was interested in most everything as well; bugs, ancient history, languages, warfare—a polytechnicien in name if not in studies. He would love this place. He would be with you, learning everything he could think of, or mam’selle Tress, taking apart the toast box.”

[timebethine]

"I long to meet him," says Laertes, reaching out to press Lucien's hand. He realizes at the swift bolt of pain that he's offered the bandaged one, and smiles wryly. "No wonder I burned my hand. Sagramore said thou wert light without fire--but he doesn't know thee as I do. There's fire enough within thee to kindle a second sun."

[untamedantinous]

He laughs a little and shakes his head. “You do a good job of encouraging it, it would seem. —I wish you could meet him, too; and Courfeyrac, you would like all my friends, I think, but them most especially.”

[timebethine]

"We'll make a place for them here," says Laertes firmly. "They will not want for questions to answer, at the very least."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm, well, should we have meetings sooner or later they will likely feel comfortable there." They would probably easily feel comfortable in most places here, though, they are not afflicted with the vague sense of not knowing what to do in social situations that tends to trail Enjolras.

"I have never been good at waiting, and they are quite late." It's mostly meant as a joke.

[timebethine]

"We'll find ways to pass the time, until they arrive," says Laertes. "Are there any pastimes thou wouldst learn?"

[untamedantinous]

"None that I can think of, off-hand." He gives Laertes a slight, fond grin. "I do not have the happy capabilities you do, mon ami."

[timebethine]

"I'll press thee into service, then, until some employment spark thy curiosity." With the backs of his fingers, he trails a hand up Enjolras's shirt from navel to neck. "This one, at least, we know thou likest."