[Closed Post] ..the sky will come for you once..

[lanselos_du_lac]

The day is warm and bright -- it's lovely, in fact -- and so Lancelot is doing his best to ignore the strange tension that has been dogging him over the last few days. He is, of course, keeping to his usual routine, which helps, and now he is in the little clearing where he and Magnus meet for training. He's waiting for Magnus to arrive, checking the straps of Arthur's shield while he waits, and doing his best to clear his head and focus up on what he has determined they need to focus on today.

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[lanselos_du_lac]

He smiles at her quoting him. "I admit, I think I am often doing it to make it possible to set things aside. It is increasingly ineffective."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Perhaps," she says, thoughtful, "that's not such a bad thing."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I might agree, but why dost thou think so?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"That it's growing ineffective," Susan clarifies. "It speaks to your ability to confront your feelings. Goodness knows I also like to set things aside, but - I do believe addressing them when we are able serves us better."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Another one of those slow, bright smiles blooms. "Why did they not call thee Queen Susan the Wise?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan's breath catches, due mainly to the look on his face, but his words certainly don't hurt. She loves him so terribly fiercely, so all-consumingly, that it catches her by sometimes. When he's so plainly delighted, her heart leaps, joyous in tandem. "Oh, because I'm a woman and wisdom was thought to be the provenance of my brother," she says, her tone dismissive and largely unconcerned - to her, this is old news, and she cares mostly that Edmund disagreed with their people that he should have full ownership of the epithet. She's more focused on the light in Lancelot's eyes.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"That sounds foolish, to me." His gaze moves over her face, taking her in, the way the light from the window catches the blue of her eyes or the dark shine of her hair. "Thou hast helped me with this, a great deal."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan smiles at Lancelot helplessly, pleased. "Oh, it's tremendously foolish."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I'll not make the mistake of underestimating thee," he says, almost a tease. And then he cups her face in his hands and kisses her, sweetly and with heat.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

And she winds her arms around his neck, drawing herself flush against him. The kiss is intent, focused; she's pouring all her feelings into it.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He is so, so incredibly glad of her; it's a wonder, to him, that they found each other and somehow navigated their way into friendship. He would be content with friendship alone, if that was what she wished. But this -- this is nothing like he's known before. These commingled feelings of affection, desire, trust, protectiveness, safety... of simple joy. He hadn't expected any of this, even once he got past the utterly unexpected fact of walking out of one world and into another.

Lancelot had thought, once, that by partnering with Guinever he had somehow decided to close the door on the friendship and support that Arthur offered. He could not both be in love with (and sleeping with) Arthur's wife and expect Arthur to continue to see him in the same way he had before. (He has always, he's come to realize, taken Bors for granted, assumed that Bors' friendship and care was simply something owed or expected, rather than sincere. That's a different sin he's committed that he has to grapple with.) Nothing he felt for Arthur had changed, but he distanced himself at some point. He did not realize that he could have asked Guinever herself for a relationship like this one. He thinks it was probably closer to this, when they first started, and over the years the secrecy and shame and uncertainty, the pretending, took its toll.

He understands, now that they've talked, that this is why Susan was angry at Magnus. He can forgive her that, because it was no slight but an act of love. He draws her closer, deepening his kiss. He hopes she understands the fullness of what he feels for her.

After a long, long while he murmurs, "Lady, wilt thou lie down with me?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Always," Susan murmurs, and means something deeper. She threads their fingers together and rises steadily; the cast-off nude calendar gets brushed to the floor with the movement of her skirts and there she leaves it. She draws Lancelot up, as well, and into another kiss.

[lanselos_du_lac]

That meaning comes through; he returns the kiss, then sweeps her up into his arms and carries her to bed.