[Closed Post] ..the plan means nothing stays the same..

[lanselos_du_lac]

In the few days since Dark ended, even Lancelot has noticed himself feeling easier. He had not thought himself much affected by Dark, aside from his concern for Susan and those he cares about who were facing their own struggles during the month; it's something of a surprise to find that his relief is also deep-set, for himself. There is a strange kind of hope that he doesn't recall feeling before, in anticipation of spring. He realizes that the pace will change, and that he is looking forward to spring and summer in this new place.

He's been considering whether he should move some of his things back to his own room. He has not stayed the night there since Susan asked him to stay with her during Dark, and he is happy to admit that this arrangement has been deeply pleasant. Lancelot has never experienced something so ... domestic as this. (He so rarely was able to wake up next to Guinever, that the first few times he woke up next to Susan after they began seeing each other, it felt like a very deep intimacy.) He doesn't, however, want to presume anything -- he knows Susan has appreciated having him close, he knows their relationship has grown deeper, but he isn't sure whether she wants him to stay with her at night on a more permanent basis. He suspects she might want her own space back, once she's recovered her equilibrium.

As ever, he has maintained his routine. He has also seen the invitation to Dionysus' party. It's this that was on his mind as he set out for the training yard this morning -- it was brisk and cold, but not so much the punishing cold of deep Dark -- and this he let himself idly consider while making his way through drills. (Thinking about it during drilling helps, because thinking about it otherwise has made him feel anxious -- he will never know what he ought to wear, or what to expect.)

By the time he has finished, he knows that there are several subjects that he needs to discuss with Susan when they meet for lunch.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot makes an intrigued sound -- vegetable turnovers is something that sounds unusual. "Training is as it always is," he says easily, "which is, I think, the best thing one can say about how well it's gone."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh?" Susan asks, trying to parse if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He chuckles, "Aye. It should go the same way each time. An it does not, that's a sign something is off. It went very smoothly this morning."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Then I'm pleased for you." Susan smiles at him, then, a larger smile than she usually manages. "Sweetheart, would you mind terribly fetching me a glass of very cold water?" She could, of course, but he's here and she's rather covered in flour.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Of course," he says. It only takes him a moment; he's comfortable in the kitchens, now, in a way that would have surprised him only a few months ago.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Cheers," she says, taking it and trickling a little in over the flour-and-butter mixture. "Have you got more plans now? Or shall I put you to work?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I can be put to work."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Very good," says Susan, approvingly. "First, I shall require a kiss."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"A trying task," he teased, "but I shall do my best."

He comes and slips an arm around her waist, side by side, and turns to kiss her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She holds her messy hands carefully free of him and his clothes, craning her neck up to receive his kiss. He smells as he always does, after training: of the cold fresh air and of sweat. As always, she finds it intoxicating.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot's kiss is sweet, his hand firm at her waist.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

When she pulls back, she barely manages to resist the urge to adjust his shirt with her floury hands. "Very good," she tells him, pleased.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Excellent," smiling at her, "I want nothing more than to please thee."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I know," she says, a little smug, a little heated. "It would please me terribly if you'd find some bacon in the icebox next."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am certain I can manage that," he says as he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. He then moves off to the icebox to find the bacon.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Critical error! Now he's not touching her anymore! Susan fills the void by trickling another splash of water into her dough and working it together. It's nearly there, just one splash more.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Here it is," he says, pulling out a paper-wrapped package and bringing it back to her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Very good." The dough is ready; she plops it on a dish and trades the dish for Lancelot's package of bacon, which she deposits on the counter. "Place this in the icebox and find me a frying pan?" she asks, as she goes to scrub her hands. And forearms.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He happily goes to do so, though in honesty it takes him a minute or two to find the frying pan. Eventually, he holds up one like he's seen Laertes and Sagramore use at breakfast. "Will this do?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

By now Susan is flour-free and can rest her hand on his arm as she takes the frying pan from him. "It will," she says, and pats his cheek for good measure. "I shall also require a pot, but that's less urgent."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He grins at her, "I shall supply it."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan sighs, a happy sigh. She puts the frying pan on the stove and adds a healthy knob of butter, setting it to melt. "Remind me of the days you spar with others?" she says, as it sputters in the pan. "I should like to watch some day."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Wouldst thou?" Lancelot sounds only a little surprised.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She gives him a pert look. "You know I would."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"It is only that I tend to assume it is dull for those who are not, themselves, working at swordplay."