[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]

Without hesitation, he says, "As long as I must. Eternity. An thou didst not come to desire me, or act on that desire, it would be no matter to me."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She raises her eyebrows at him pointedly.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He levels a look at her, "Susan. Thou'rt not myself. I am not Laertes. He does not -- or may not, I suppose -- feel for me as I do for thee. Thou'rt sharp enough to know this."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

The turnovers are ready for the oven. Susan sets the egg wash and brush to the side, wipes her fingers on a dishcloth, and goes to embrace Lancelot, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I know," she says softly. "But he strikes me as earnest and trustworthy, and he cares about you a great deal. I don't believe he'd commit to patience if he didn't mean it. And it isn't as if he's got no one to meet his, ah, needs."

[lanselos_du_lac]

His arms go around her immediately, without thought. "He is earnest. I do trust him. I care for him, as well."

He pauses, because the thought comes up -- as a brother -- but he knows that isn't what he means; and then, besides, there is the complicated knot of feelings for Arthur, who has called him brother, and he still cannot explain the ways that his feelings for and about Laertes abut those he has for Arthur. (They are not the same. Laertes is not Arthur, and is little enough like him. But there is that sense in him that the quality of his care is similar enough to scrape, and he does not know what to do with or about that.)

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She relaxes into his hold. "And if the tables were turned, you'd wait for him as well?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Quietly, holding her a little closer, he says, "Of course. I would."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"But it's harder to trust him to do the same?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No, it's--" He glances away, and there's a little pause. "I trust him. I'm... not always sure of my place, is all. Of..."

Whether he is worthy? Whether he is worth the wait? He doesn't know.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan studies him for a protracted moment. When she first arrived, she hadn't the wherewithal to moderate the intensity of her most piercing of looks. She doesn't bother now, either - not with Lancelot, who already knows the extent of the keenness of her attention and sharpness of her assessments. Then she nods. "I ought to put the turnovers into the oven," she tells him, and withdraws from his hold with a squeeze of his hand.

By the time she's closed the door behind them, she's sorted out what she thinks she's seen, and what she wants to say. She closes the distance between them again. "Have you asked him about your place?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"We've... spoken of our feelings. I am as honest with him as I know how to be. He says that he loves me, which again, I do not doubt." If there is something like except lingering there, he doesn't say so. "The last time we spoke on it, when he learned I had been ill, he was at first very distressed, and so I know that he is sincere in his feelings. We also spoke of how I would put thee first, since Magnus had asked something like that, and I was curious to see whether he thought of his bond with Sagramore in a similar fashion."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan's hands have found Lancelot's waist; she tucks them under his shirt and draws patterns with her fingertips as she listens to him. When he pauses, she gives him a look, inquiring and encouraging.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"So," a little hesitation, "the trouble does not lie with Laertes, I suppose, but in myself."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

As she thought. "Do you know the source of your concerns?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I--" He makes a face, frowning slightly. "Susan, I know well enough that it is... ridiculous. I worry that I will not please him. I worry that asking him to wait is asking too much. I worry that, once we are no longer waiting, I will be a disappointment, or he will tire of me. I want-- I want to keep him."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

The turnovers are in the oven and the soup needs at least that much time to simmer. Susan goes to give it one more stir and adjust the temperature, retrieves a timer from a drawer, sets it, and slips it into her pocket, and then takes Lancelot's hand to draw him into the parlor across the hall so that they might sit. As she bustles about, she says, "I don't think it's ridiculous, sweetheart. I rather think it's... new."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Say on," he says, making an effort to not sound perplexed or unhappy. (He is finding his feelings on all of this to be very complicated, and this includes -- he is surprised to find -- a kind of guilt that he can't pin down. It's very unsettling; he has the sense that he would prefer they stopped speaking of it, but he knows enough, now, to understand that this is likely to help.)

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She nudges him into a seat on the couch so that she can tuck up against his side the way that she likes, wriggling underneath his arm and then taking his hand so she can draw them more snugly together. "I mean I know that I'm prone to getting rather... disoriented, shall we say... when I haven't got a clear understanding of the rules for something," she says. "As well you know. And I tend to have less of that clarity when it's something I've not done before. ...I think we're similar in this way, yes?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

He relaxes against her. "Aye, I think that's fair to say."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"And - despite your feelings about Arthur - this is doubly new for you, yes?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I think," a little pause, "How so, 'doubly'?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She ventures, "Laertes is a man, and you're neither of you bound to any one person."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Yes," he agrees, relieved both to have understood her and to be understood. He kisses her temple.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I know that it's tremendously unhelpful to hear you haven't got anything to worry about in a situation like this," Susan says, trailing a finger along his shoulder. "But I do remain convinced that it shall be all right."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I should attend thee, then. Thou'rt rarely wrong." He is tempted to ask why she's so sure, but he holds back on that.