[Closed Post: Cinnamon Roll]

[timebethine]

A few days' recovery have left Laertes feeling refreshed enough to return to his baking, although not quite ready to dive into anything particularly complicated. Thus, he abandons the more complex direktørsnegl recipe he'd been meaning to try in favor of perfecting the humble cinnamon roll.

The days are getting shorter--even Laertes can feel it, though his sense of time is poor. He can no longer rely on the sunrise to wake him at a decent hour for baking, and so today he's up a little before the sun, kneading the bready dough by hand rather than using the paddle of the stand mixer in the hopes that the physical exertion will wake him up a little. It's not working particularly well; his eyelids keep drooping.

Comments

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, he'd likely say the cinnamon rolls are fine," says Susan, with a dash of good humor. "But I say a man who drills like he does every morning would benefit from something more substantial. If it's not too much trouble." She's nearly finished with her own breakfast, and takes a big sip of tea to wash it all down. "I can put together the icings for the buns."

[timebethine]

Laertes hasn't actually started eating his breakfast, but immediately he's getting the bacon and eggs back out. "He needs to keep up his strength; doubtless, he must train continually if he's to prevent Gideon from knocking him on his arse again."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I beg your pardon?"

[timebethine]

"Did he not tell thee? He sparred with Gideon, and she trounced him," says Laertes with no small glee. "I can only beat him with the rapier, but it sounds as though she fought him longsword to longsword, and won."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I've not met Gideon," says Susan, sounding rather impressed indeed. "But now I think I must." She notices then that Laertes hasn't started on his own breakfast, and puts her fork down on her nearly-clean plate. "Oh, you silly man, this isn't time-sensitive. Eat first."

[timebethine]

"It's only that I fear that if I don't begin at once, I'll forget to begin at all," says Laertes ruefully. While the butter heats in the pan, he starts another piece of toast and separates out a few strips of bacon to fry.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Does the same go for eating your own breakfast before it gets cold?" Susan carries her plate over to the sink and washes her hands before going to check on the recipes for the cinnamon roll icing.

[timebethine]

"--ah." Because the truth is, he doesn't see his own breakfast as particularly important, and it's all right if that falls by the wayside in service of someone else's. "Well. He can have the colder plate, and I'll eat the fresh one."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Very good," says Susan, a little too stern. This is followed up by a fleetingly wry expression, and she rolls her eyes at Laertes. "See? There I go, fussing." She sets herself to making the cream cheese icing first, dumping cream cheese and butter into a bowl as she tries to think of how to reset the conversation. A glance outside reveals that the sun is growing higher - oh, perhaps she can kill two birds with one stone? Lancelot had, after all, mentioned finding Laertes handsome. "So you've sparred with him."

[timebethine]

"Ay, I have. He's a fine swordsman--I fear I shall not long have the advantage with the rapier; he hath a natural gift for the blade, and speed enough to match me."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I shall have to contrive an excuse to watch him spar," says Susan, thoughtfully, working on creaming the butter and cheese together. "I've only seen him running drills."

It occurs to her, as she speaks, that she seems to have a natural disinclination to talking about her lovers with others. But Lancelot talks about her; he'd said as much. And she really is ever so curious. So she adds, "I imagine sparring would be even more of an appealing sight than the drills."

[timebethine]

"It can be," says Laertes as he takes the bacon out of the pan. "It depends upon how well the fighters are matched, and how well thou knowest the weapon. A match with rapiers can be fought with deadly skill in the space of inches--an entrancing show, if thou art familiar with the blade, but dull entertainment for groundlings at a theatre. The longsword makes better spectacle. It's a hewing weapon, rather than a thrusting weapon; it requires great commitment to the swing."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I've watched a fair few duels," says Susan, who would - if she only had the vocabulary for it - admit to having a competency kink. "But never one conducted for fun."

[timebethine]

"If thou wouldst like to watch him thrash me, thou hast only to ask," Laertes laughs.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I rather would," Susan admits, going to measure powdered sugar and cream into the icing bowl. As she seems to focus on ensuring the cups of sugar are appropriately leveled, in a tone that anyone but Ingrid would assume to be one of total, genuine distraction, she adds, "He really is devastatingly handsome, isn't he?"

[timebethine]

"Oh, certainly," Laertes agrees. "Never more so than when he's thrashing me, in fact."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh? Do you enjoy being thrashed?" Susan asks, still the picture of someone focused entirely on the task at hand and very little on the conversation. For effect, she almost immediately makes a pitch-perfect moue of shock at herself, and then lets her gaze fly, startled, to Laertes. "I mean--"

[timebethine]

Laertes senses that he's overcommitted to the play; he retreats. "It's always an honor and a pleasure to cross blades with a skillful swordsman," he says--then immediately realizes that that might come across as innuendo, and retreats again. "I mean to say--I have only the purest of intentions toward thy Lancelot."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Oh, well, that's rather cute of him, isn't it! He sounds ever so flustered. But if he's going to say that his intentions are pure, Susan shan't press - she doesn't want to create an awkward situation for Lancelot. She takes pity on Laertes, mixing in the sugar and adding a splash of cream at a time, stirring thin the icing to pouring consistency. "There's rather a lot more swordplay here than I'm used to seeing," she says, and if it sounds like an accidental double entendre, then so much the better.

[timebethine]

"Lady," says Laertes patiently, although his ears are deep pink at the tips, "thou art toying with me now."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"My only blade is my tongue," Susan says, blithe and unapologetic - and, yes, still a little naughty, but she looks up from the icing, which is nearly ready for when the rolls come out of the oven. The smile she gives him then is likely larger than any he's ever seen her wear, and playful at the edges.

[timebethine]

Laertes can't help laughing, delighted, grinning even wider at seeing her smile. "Then thou art a match for any swordsman here."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'm glad you see the truth of it," Susan says, primly, and gives the icing another good mix, then lifts the spoon to check its consistency. It flows back into the bowl, and so she sets it to the side, satisfied. And then, in the spirit of the truth, she offers a small correction: "He isn't my Lancelot, you know."

[timebethine]

"No? Forgive me, then. I thought he was thy sweetheart."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh, we do have an - accord." He loves me. The thought feels as fragile as a robin's eggshell. "But he's not bound to me."