untamedantinous | quatre: they will put away the sword

There are a number of kitchens to be found in the mansion, as most people know. Enjolras is in one of them, flour speckling his flannel shirt and black jeans. There is a recipe book open on the counter near him, open to a page on baguettes. The young man in question is currently absorbed in kneading some dough: once again, something new to concentrate on. (Yes, he had known that Combeferre and Courfeyrac were only here for a day, but that does not really make it much better.) So, inspired by Laertes -- and, perhaps, the underwhelming boeuf bourguignon the mansion had provided the other day -- he is attempting a French classic. Perhaps a homemade baguette will taste better than mansion-provided food.

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From:

untamedantinous

"I cannot even recall the last dance I went to," pulling him a little closer as they walk. "It was certainly likely before I came to Paris."

From:

timebethine

"And thou wert still a boy, not yet grown into thy legs!" He laughs and nuzzles Lucien's shoulder. "Worry not about the fashion of the dances. We'll dance a few from our home courts, and a few new dances at Claudius's urging--but for most of them, it will be enough to take hands with the rest of the party and move in a circle, or to hold a partner in a close embrace and to sway."

From:

untamedantinous

"That sounds about my level of capability," he laughs and shakes his head. "But thank you for being willing to practice with me."

From:

timebethine

"If thou hast a taste for it, I'll teach thee other dances," Laertes promises. "Little pleases me more than to dance, and to teach." He contemplates the small collection of records that he's moved into the practice room, then chooses one that has the sort of slow pace that will be easy to teach. (And, he admits, one with words that remind him fondly of Sagramore.) There's a slight hiss of the record player, and then the opening drums and piano of 'Truly, Madly, Deeply' begin to play.

"This," says Laertes as he opens his arms, "is a song for swaying."

From:

untamedantinous

Enjolras looks dubious, but nods and steps into Laertes' arms. He is a little uncertain of where he should put his hands, and settles for the waist, for now, that seems easiest.

From:

timebethine

Laertes twines his hands together at the back of Lucien's neck, letting himself be clasped into the casual frame of the dance. Their hips are close enough to trade heat, their chests only held apart by the straightness of Laertes's arms; he gazes up into Lucien's eyes with a luminous smile, and he slowly starts swaying them to the rhythm.

From:

untamedantinous

Enjolras follows along, a little awkward. Eventually he moves his hands so one is at Laertes’ waist and the other at his shoulders, smiling back even though he feels hopelessly silly. Perhaps this isn’t so bad.

From:

timebethine

"Sweet man," Laertes murmurs, and lets his embrace collapse until they're only resting against one another and swaying. "Is it truly so bad?"

From:

untamedantinous

“No,” laughing a little and moving to rest his head on Laertes’ shoulder. “I am just not used to doing things for —ah, fun, is all. This is not very practical.”

From:

timebethine

"Is there no practical use in pleasure, then?" He splays his palm deliberately between Lucien's shoulder blades, encouraging him to feel the swell of his ribs with every breath as he stands pinned between Laertes's hand and his chest. "In a place where all of our needs are met, what greater purpose is there than ensuring each other's pleasure?"

From:

untamedantinous

“I suppose you are right.” He lets himself sway along with Laertes for a moment or two, enjoying the feel of Laertes’ hands on his back, the slight press of his nearness. “Another thing I am still getting used to, then.”

From:

timebethine

"If there are pleasures thou wouldst try, I'll try them with thee," says Laertes. "Any craft or game, any song or dance or poem. Any dish, savory or dainty. Anything that makes thee say, 'I am glad to be alive.'"

From:

untamedantinous

“Mm,” he leans for a slight kiss. “At the moment,” he says, after a moment’s thought, “—That would be this. Chiefly because of the partner, less so the dancing.”

From:

timebethine

"It's good to touch," laughs Laertes, with another darting kiss. "I knew not what a pleasure it was to keep someone in my arms, ere I came here."

From:

untamedantinous

“Yes,” returning that kiss and cupping the back of Laertes’ head briefly. “It is the same for me; if you had not noticed by now. Courfeyrac was always the one to draw us into hugs.”

From:

timebethine

"Didst have a chance to hold him, while he was here? Or Combeferre?"

From:

untamedantinous

“Mm, he held me,” fondly. “While you and Combeferre were talking about science.”

From:

timebethine

"He's the kind of friend to thee that I am," Laertes ventures.

From:

untamedantinous

“I…” He considers this for a moment, thoughtful. “Yes, in a way. He is as close to me as Combeferre, in different ways. We were—brothers, friends, comrades-in-arms…he would probably have liked to, ah..” There is a vague gesture. “He liked to do that sort of thing often and easily, he is…a very giving fellow.”

From:

timebethine

"Thou art not so easy with thy gifts." Laertes eases them back out of the close embrace, into something nearer to a waltz frame. "May I ask ... why didst thou bestow them on me?"

From:

untamedantinous

“You charmed me,” laughing a little as they start moving a bit quicker. “When you made me chase you. It reminded me of him, and —as I told you at the time, I wanted to …want to learn.”

From:

timebethine

"I'm still learning. I think I may spend my whole life in learning how to be loved, and not account it time wasted."

From:

untamedantinous

“Well.” He draws him into a soft, searching kiss, or as much of one as he can manage whilst in a waltz. “You have certainly made quite a good start of it.”