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

He shrugs. "Claudius knows of it, you may as well, too. Grantaire does not know all of it." He finishes forming the dough into three equal sized balls and covers them, settling back against the counter. "I mentioned, I think, after we were forced to speak truths...I killed a man, for dishonoring the barricade. He had killed an innocent, so I killed him. It was very easy to distance myself from everything, in pursuit of our goals."

From:

timebethine

"It sits ill with thee," Laertes guesses. "Even believing that what thou didst was just."

From:

untamedantinous

"Yes. It should not have been as easy as it was. Even when it was another man, someone who could have been my brother had things gone differently -- it was still easier than I would have liked it to be."

From:

timebethine

"Because it was justice? Or some other reason?"

From:

untamedantinous

"Yes, because it was justice. It was what needed to be done for the republic." He sighs. "I cannot let myself be as -- literal as they were, for want of a better word. Even though it would be far easier."

From:

timebethine

"What wouldst thou be?" Laertes asks. "An thou hadst thy choice, what wouldst thou be?"

From:

untamedantinous

"I don't know." He scrubs a hand across his face and sighs. "Not the angel of the republic, not Grantaire's marble statue... Human?" There's half a laugh there. "I sound ridiculous, I am sorry."

From:

timebethine

Laertes gathers him up in a tight hug, rising on his toes so that he can slot his chin over Enjolras's shoulder. "No--no, an thou couldst be anything in the world, I'd have thee be a man. I'd have thee know mortal joys and sorrows, and live on the scale of a man, and not a republic."

From:

untamedantinous

There's another tired-sounding laugh, and he carefully wraps his own arms around Laertes, clinging just as tight. "I am trying. It is more difficult than I anticipated."

From:

timebethine

"It is," Laertes admits. "But this is the work of being a man: loving, and being loved. Making bread. Dancing and laughing. Making thyself a part of the world."

From:

untamedantinous

"Thank you," he says quietly, nuzzling at Laertes' cheek. "I did not mean to unburden myself so in the midst of all this...baguette mess." --Well, he hadn't meant to at all, really, but Saint-Just had come up and brought out all his insecurities. "You keep me grounded," he adds quietly. "If you had been in Paris with us, we would have been -- you, me, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, we would have been a force to be reckoned with. Even more of one than we were.'

From:

timebethine

"But instead, we're here. Thou needst not be a force--and if thy friends return, thou canst be a man with them." He kisses Lucien's jaw, his cheek, the curve of his lower lip. "I would have fought beside thee, if I found myself in thy Paris three hundred years after mine own time. I would have been proud to do it. But now, I'm proud to be thy friend, and to have no more pressing duty than to learn to make baguettes with thee."

From:

untamedantinous

He is still clinging, slightly, though it is mostly for the reassurance of Laertes' arms around him, telling him that he is real, he is flesh and blood; and he settles his hands at Laertes' waist for just a moment before giving him a brisk kiss. "Yes, the baguettes," he says, eager to change the subject. "A few more minutes, I think, and then they may be rolled into shape and there is one last rise to contend with."

From:

timebethine

"As long a rise as the others?"

From:

untamedantinous

He disentangles himself from Laertes enough to make a grab for the cookbook, glances at it, and nods. "Yes, I think so? It says here until they look 'marshmallowy'--which ....it is well on its way, I think, but not quite yet."

From:

timebethine

"Any bread that's spent so long in rising must be light as air," Laertes grouses mildly. "How thou hast the patience, I'll never know."

From:

untamedantinous

"Oh, it is, though," Enjolras says, with a slight smile. "The outside must be crisp, of course, but the inside is light and fluffy and perfect when it is warm and has just a bit of jam, or soft cheese. The only reason I have the patience is because you are here keeping me company, I do not know if I will have the patience to do all this again."

From:

timebethine

"We'll have to find employment for ourselves during each rise," says Laertes thoughtfully. "I might wash cups. Sagramore and I tend to forget to return them to the kitchen once we've finished with them; a rise is just long enough to get through all of them."

From:

untamedantinous

“Yes, and I’ve already cleaned most everything else up. The next bread I try shall not nearly be as intensive, I think.” He hums thoughtfully. “Would you like help with your cups?”

From:

timebethine

"Oh, no, they're done--I was only thinking ahead to the next time. I'd like for thee to have good baguettes. Thou shouldst know any pleasure thou desirest."

From:

untamedantinous

“I have already promised Grantaire the first taste, but you might have the next, if they are any good. They may not be.” He sets the recipe book back down on the counter. “Mm,” with a nod. “I am not accustomed to asking for them.”

From:

timebethine

"Then we'll train thee to the habit of it--name some other pleasure thou wouldst like."

From:

untamedantinous

“Ah, I don’t know.” He thinks a moment. “I would say coffee and good company, but I am in possession of both of those. Hmm. Sweets, perhaps? We had violettes at home, violets crystallized in sugar. Or macarons, those are quite good as well.”