Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to the brilliant victor hugo!

"You look like a hipster." Enjolras is tossing an empty coffee cup into a trashcan, the hint of a teasing smile just on the edge of Grantaire's line of vision.
"You look like a model," Grantaire returns, not letting Enjolras' slight affect him.
They walk alongside the busy street cafes and flower shops and secondhand bookstores baking like bread in the mid afternoon sun.
"Seriously though, you look like a Greek god. You're hair is downright angelic, I might actually kill for your nose, and those LIPS!" Grantaire is shouting, laughing, flashing a naughty smile that makes Enjolras blush and look around.

"People are starting to stare," he mutters, but he doesn't look too cut up about it, the corners of those lips curling up subtly.
"Let them!" Grantaire half shouts, grabbing Enjolras' hand in a tight grip and whispering in his ear that his lips are worth it, feeling those curls tickle his cheek as he does, before racing across the street, matching the chaos of this city under the blazing sun.

It seems like there are cars and buses everywhere, swimming across his line of vision in blasts of brilliant reds and yellows and blues but the oasis is just ahead and Enjolras seems content in his steady but sweaty grip and Grantaire still hasn't stopped laughing and now he is walking backwards towards a fountain and a group of tourists feeding pigeons and the light of the water is reflected in Enjolras' eyes and Grantaire thinks he couldn't be more drunk off of anything than those eyes and then the backs of his knees hit something solid the way he wants the edge of a bed to and the last thing he sees before the deluge is Enjolras' face, shocked and smiling and inches from his and he grabs a fistful of Enjolras' perfect red t shirt because he'll be damned if they aren't going down together.