quatre: they will put away the sword

[untamedantinous]

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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[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.

[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.

[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.

[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?"

[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.”

[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?"

[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.”

[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.'"

[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.”

[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."

[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.”

[timebethine]

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

[untamedantinous]

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

[timebethine]

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

[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.”

[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?"

[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.”

[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."

[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.”

[timebethine]

"And thou hast made a good start on dancing," says Laertes, grinning. "Not a single missed step, and thou wert talking all the while."

[untamedantinous]

“You distracted me,” fondly. “I suppose I am not as rusty as I thought; my mother would be proud.”

[timebethine]

"Would she be proud to see thee dancing with me?"

[untamedantinous]

“Oh, likely not,” with a laugh. “She would be confused, I think, mostly. I do think she would like you though.”

[timebethine]

"I'm glad." The music has trailed off without his notice, and now there's only the easy sweep of the dance, the joy of matching each other step for step. "Wilt thou dance with me, when the time comes? I would like to have thee in mine arms, and have all of my friends see how I care for thee."

[untamedantinous]

“Of course, if you do not mind me potentially making a fool of myself.” He is, in fact, moving with much more grace now that he is distracted. It’s not perfect by any means, but it will do. “I am sorry we have not seen each other much as of late; I was wrapped up in the café.”