lanselos_du_lac | [Closed Post] ..shining through the hollow..

Once Lancelot has left Magnus and Galahad in the greenhouse, he goes looking for Laertes. He can admit he has had the urge to check in on everyone, in the wake of Magnus' incident, but he has realized that it's been some days and he misses Laertes' company.

So he goes seeking, checking in on the places he thinks Laertes might be, and eventually finding him in that same parlor they'd sat together in before. Lancelot pauses in the doorway, and then clears his throat and says, "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

Despite the clear fact that he intends to interrupt. He is grinning.

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From:

timebethine

Laertes is currently sprawled across the sofa, reading a book that Claudius had recommended--The Structure of Scientific Revolutions--but he sets it down as Lancelot steps into the parlor. "Not at all," he says. "Sagramore has bade me rest, and so I'm at leisure to receive thee. Come. Sit." With a faint crackling of joints, Laertes manages to scrape himself into a sitting position. When he smiles up at Lancelot, his expression is all warmth and welcome.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot crosses to him, and bends to kiss him sweetly, placing one hand at the side of his neck.

From:

timebethine

--oh, that's a very pleasant surprise. Laertes sinks both hands into Lancelot's hair and holds him there, letting himself be shaped to the kiss. When at last the need for air is louder than the urgent thrumming of pleasure in his veins, he draws back just enough to rest their foreheads together. "That was a fine greeting," he says, with an incredulous little laugh.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"I feared to overstep," smiling, "but I am very glad to see thee well."

From:

timebethine

"Canst not overstep, an thou stepp'st into my arms," says Laertes. "How art thou, sweet?"

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"'Tis good to know," he settles beside Laertes, easily enough. Ordinarily, in a time of strain, he would stick with his usual clothes. But being bundled up in a sweater has felt pleasant the last few days. He looks well, thanks to Magnus.

"It has not been easy, of late. It is part of why I came to find thee. To see that thou'rt well."

From:

timebethine

"I am." His smile slips a little. "Sagramore, less so. He parted ways with a friend, and though I think he does not repent it, he grieves the loss. It's wearied him."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot reaches for his hand, "That I am sorry to hear. I would help the both of thee any way I can."

From:

timebethine

"I think only time will help--and the end of this cruel season." He chafes his thumb gently over Lancelot's knuckles. "Is that what's gone hard with thee? The season?"

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"I think I have fared better than most, but-- hast thou learned of Magnus' injury?"

From:

timebethine

"Ay--and his recovery. I spoke with him earlier; he seemed well."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

"Oh. That's well," he pauses. "I found him. I am glad it was so, and that I knew enough to be of help. But-- that's gone hard with me and--"

From:

timebethine

Immediately, Laertes gathers Lancelot against his chest and holds him fiercely. "My heart," he says. "Oh, my heart. That would go hard with anyone."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

For a moment, he's almost a little perplexed -- but then, this is one of the things that draws him to Laertes, that wholehearted depth of feeling. So he leans into him, lets himself be held. After a long moment he says, "It has made me worry for everyone, but especially those dear to me."

From:

timebethine

"If such a strange thing could happen to Magnus, who's adored by the general throng, then it might happen to any of us," Laertes agrees. "But we're well. Both of us. And all those we love are well, or as well as they can be."

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Again, Lancelot hesitates. He wants to tell Laertes everything, he wants to talk about what he felt, but it's all over, now, and he himself has no lasting harm.

For now he stays quiet, slipping an arm around Laertes' waiting.

From:

timebethine

Quietly, "Wouldst sit in my lap, and be held?"

From:

lanselos_du_lac

Lancelot's first impulse is to refuse -- he's no hulking mass, but neither is he small or light. Still.

"Aye," he says, shifting to do so.

From:

timebethine

Neither is Laertes delicate or light--he and Lancelot are almost of a height, and similar enough in build that their differences are all but meaningless. It's easy to settle Lancelot in the dip between his thighs, to gather his legs up onto the sofa. It's easy for Laertes to wrap his arms around Lancelot's chest and to be warm and solid and sure.

From:

lanselos_du_lac

It takes a moment -- he had somehow thought this conversation would go differently, and in any case did not expect this type of comfort -- but he relaxes against Laertes, letting himself feel the warmth, the security, so similar to that he feels when he's with Susan.

From:

timebethine

"There thou art," he says, low and warm. He noses against Lancelot's jaw in a way that perhaps feels like a hound seeking reassurance, although his kisses are lighter and drier. "If thou hast more to say, say on. I'll listen."