closed: and i soar through a world that is new, that is free (post-dance)

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras has been puttering about the mansion in the past few days since the wedding dance. Today, he has spent some time outside with Temeraire -- it's getting colder, and the warmth of Temeraire's pavilion has become quite a snug little place to read to him, when Galahad is not. He had moved onto some canne de combat practice after their customary few chapters a day, which had occupied him until just recently.

The winter is coming in faster, now, and Enjolras has never been one for the cold. Certainly the south of France is not as far south as many other places in the world, but he grew up accustomed to it being somewhat warmer there than it was in Paris. So now, he is curled up in front of a fire that is crackling merrily, sipping at some vin chaud as he leafs through a book of recipes. There is, indeed, a pile of books nearby -- both cookbooks and others, but right now he is looking for something easy to set his sights on for his next baking adventure.

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[timebethine]

"Surely there is no better time to admit love than when there is nothing to be lost by it," says Laertes; with his free hand, he starts combing through Lucien's soft curls.

[untamedantinous]

“It did shock me,” he says, closing his eyes again for a moment to enjoy that combing. “But in a pleasant kind of way. And then we both got here, and I did not know how to act around him, by ourselves —I am still uncertain.”

[timebethine]

"What wouldst thou have?" asks Laertes, soft as cotton, soft as down. "Wouldst have him lie with thee like this, and touch thy hair, and kiss thee sweetly?"

[untamedantinous]

“This is quite nice, but I—I do not know if he and I are at that point yet.” He makes a contemplative noise, quiet and warm. “I would have that, eventually. I would also have him as I would have you; fierce and bold and wonderful.”

[timebethine]

"Then reward his boldness when thou canst," says Laertes. "Reward his fierceness. Thou wilt not credit it, but when I came here, I was the soul of meekness; I am as thou seest me because my friends proved to me that I could be other than what I was."

[untamedantinous]

“As you are proving to me,” he says fondly, nuzzling into Laertes’ hand in his hair. “But I will try and remember that. He is not often bold with me, in those terms. In fighting —with sticks or words, then yes.”

[timebethine]

"In those terms--thou meanest in matters of love?"

[untamedantinous]

“Yes,” laughing a little bit. “Then again I suppose I have not seen much of him in love, or I have not paid attention to it.”

[timebethine]

"Hast not paid attention!" says Laertes reprovingly, with a nip to Lucien's ear. "I've met him but a handful of times, and his love for thee shines through him as though he's no more than window glass--he cannot think of thee but his looks turn to love!"

[untamedantinous]

"I am not accustomed to paying attention to this sort of thing," Lucien protests, but it's mild. "My only love at home was ever France, this is all --" He huffs out a sigh. "I do not know the signs, I suppose, and I do not know where I might go from here -- you, mon cœur, were a special case, you lead and I followed."

[timebethine]

"I may be wrong in this, but I think Grantaire is inclined to follow--albeit like a straying mule, who follows in part to find new opportunities for mischief."

[untamedantinous]

He laughs outright at that, shoulders shifting in a wry chuckle. "You are entirely correct about that, my dear. Remind me, some time I shall tell you about what he did at the Barriere du Maine."

[timebethine]

"We have nothing but time," says Laertes. "Only tell me if I grow too heavy for thee."

[untamedantinous]

"Oh, no, I am quite wonderful at the moment." Laertes' weight is a comforting, warm presence at his back, though he would dearly love to roll over and give him a quick kiss. "Anyhow. We had need of the marbleworkers and painters at the Barriere du Maine, and were keen to recruit them. Everyone else was busy at the time, I had intended to send Pontmercy; but he had disappeared. Grantaire offered to do it; he made a pretty speech about our ideals and such, even put on a Robespierre waistcoat, and assured me all would be well. He left to go try and recruit them; and after some time had passed, I thought of going down there myself to see how he was doing. I found him in a hearty debate regarding the rules of dominoes."

[timebethine]

"No doubt an essential point to clarify for their recruitment," Laertes says with a laugh.

[untamedantinous]

"Oh, indeed." The eyeroll should be evident, even if he can't see Lucien's face.

[timebethine]

"Did he win them over?" Laertes slides down to press a line of slow, suckling kisses to Lucien's spine, which doubtless makes answering the question a little more difficult.

[untamedantinous]

It does indeed, that drowsy heat that has been coursing through his body until now quickens a little, and he sounds a little breathier when he finally answers. "Mm. Yes, but it was not nearly enough as expected, and it was certainly not how I had thought he might do it."

[timebethine]

"It sounds to me as though he takes direction well, but improvises equally well within his sphere," says Laertes thoughtfully. "Wouldst thou practice giving direction?"

[untamedantinous]

He makes an amused noise, turning his head so he can give Laertes a playful, half-lidded glance. "Do you doubt my ability to give orders?" There is a faint jump in his stomach at the thought of holding that sort of power over someone; he is not quite certain how he feels about it. (He is, however, mindful that he will not let himself abuse it.) The amusement may only partially cover that sudden burst of nerves.

[timebethine]

"Not in the service of a cause--but thou hast admitted, thou art untried on the field of love," says Laertes. He climbs off of Lucien's back entirely to perch on the edge of the sofa, close against his hip. "It's one thing, to ask a man to serve the cause of liberty and brotherhood. We all agree upon those virtues. It's another thing entirely to ask that a man serve at thy pleasure, and to believe thy pleasure worth the service."

[untamedantinous]

"..Well, yes," Lucien replies slowly, rolling onto his back so he can face Laertes properly. "I --do not understand that portion. Might you explain it?"

[timebethine]

Laertes reaches down to cradle Lucien's face in his palm, meeting his gaze with a tender expression. "Only that I think love is the greatest service we can do one another, but some inward resistance demands that we not accept it. Whence this resistance springs, I know not--from our knowledge of man's sinful nature, perhaps, or from the thousand pressures of being brought up with the expectation of excellence. But it has been the case more often than not, that those men whose days I most wish to ease with my love are the men least willing to accept that service as their due."

[untamedantinous]

His eyebrows knit together in confusion. "But I --I have not earned it, I should not wish to place you beneath me when we are equals, we are brothers." He's reminded of Combeferre, briefly --showing his love for mankind by healing them. Perhaps it's like that? "--Or am I misunderstanding, again."

[timebethine]

"Ah--I begin to unravel thy confusion. It's the question of power, then? Thinkest thou he would do thee not the service that one brother owes another, but another kind? That of man and master, or of tame beast and man?" Laertes licks his lips. He knows, with a fearful certainty, what service Grantaire would do. "Of man and god?"