A/N: This is kind of based off of a dream I had the other night. O.o The main thing was that I worked at the Musain, and Grantaire was there. I was kind of acting like my Azelma, though I was all mentally "HADLEY!GRANTAIRE! OMFG!" and spazzing but played it cool and all, "GTFO. ." And of course, he was all, "Hur hur. No." Oh yeah, and I was magically older. :P
I'm also turning this into a series of R/Brie oneshots, just a heads up.
Note: This isn't actually the dream I had! This is just based off the idea of having a secret affair with a certain lovable drunk. ;D
Nother note/edit: Brielle is, like, my French alternate ego. It's a long story, just go with it. xD
It was late at night, here in Paris. The Musain would close in mere minutes- that is, if that drunken idiot they called Grantaire would get off the goddamned table he was sprawled across and go away. The bartender had already gone off, leaving me to lock up. But I couldn't lock up with a customer still here, now could I?
Well…
Grantaire he was called, and I often wanted to refer to him as merely 'the drunk one', but he paid well and honestly, he meant well enough, too. He just got a little too intoxicated while he was at it. He came around whenever that secret society of revolutionaries held their meetings, and paid especial attention to their daresay angelic leader, Enjolras.
He was, as I aforementioned, sprawled across a table, asleep. I leaned on the bar, resting my chin on my fist, and watched him, waiting for him to wake up. If I knew Grantaire- which I did, remotely well. He came by all the time for a drink- then I'd be waiting quite a bit.
The longer I watched the drunk, the more started to study him. He had a nice face, from what I could see. Plenty of stubble, too. His brown hair was disheveled, as well as his clothing. The cravat he wore was barely hanging on, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top… Blushing, I turned back to the counter and continued cleaning up behind it.
It was a while before Grantaire woke up. He strode over to the bar, leaning his arms against the counter. "Closin' up already?" His voice was a soft tenor, with an edge to it that I couldn't quite place. It was probably from drinking so much. I settled with that conclusion.
"It's nearly midnight," I replied with a quirked eyebrow.
Grantaire sighed. "Ah, Christ… you're serious?" I nodded. "And the other students know I was here?"
"Is it really that important?"
"Well, yeah."
Again I nodded. "The blond one-"
"Apollo."
This time I raised both my eyebrows. "Apollo. He doesn't like it that you drink so much, does he?"
"Not really," he admitted. "Though it's mighty tough not to, after drinking for so long. Although, if I started up somethin' to replace it…"
"Oh?"
He leaned over the counter, his face close to mine. I blinked, meaning to step back… but I didn't. Something held me there, close to him. I didn't know what.
"And what did you plan on starting up?" I inquired.
Instead of answering verbally, he pressed his lips to mine, deepening the kiss before I had time to register the fact that he was kissing me. My brain screamed at me to pull away, but the rest of me urged me on, insisting that this was a once in a lifetime kind of thing. I ran my hands through his hair, pushing him closer.
He pulled away from the kiss, his face still inches from mine. His lips curved into a cocky half smile. Immediately I pulled my hands from his hair, letting them fall to my sides.
"What the hell was that for?" I demanded.
He stepped back, and for some odd reason, I felt… empty. But he didn't stay away for long. He walked around the counter, approaching me.
"You're not allowed back here."
"I didn't say I was staying." Something in his voice was different. The tone he used was huskier. He grabbed both of my hands, lacing our fingers together as he led me back around the bar. Suddenly one of his hands grabbed my waist. The other lifted our still clasped hands into midair.
"Dance with me."
The hand he'd let go of drifted to his shoulder mechanically. Both my eyebrows were raised. "There's no music."
He smirked, as if fighting laughter, then started to hum.
"Nice."
We waltzed around the Musain as Grantaire hummed, and before long I was humming in harmony. He snickered lightly, continuing to hum, which only made me giggle.
He spun us around for a moment, eventually dipping me elegantly. "You're not half bad," I commented.
"Nor you," he replied, pulling me back up and halting the dance. We were mere inches away from each other, and my breathing suddenly grew heavy. Again he kissed me, this time a little rougher. I complied happily, moaning when his tongue sought entrance, and parted my lips. I let his tongue explore as he wished, releasing his hand and sliding my arms around his neck. His remained at my waist, pulling me up against him. I wasn't complaining.
That was, until he pulled his tongue from my mouth, then his lips from mine. Before I could protest, he lifted a finger to my lips in a silencing gesture.
Down the hallway where my living quarters, and the bartenders and other workers were, I could hear the floorboards creaking under someone's footsteps. We quickly released each other as an unamused Genevieve peeked out.
She sighed, shaking her head. "Carry on somewhere else, would you?"
My cheeks seared red, and I ducked under a screen of my hair. I heard a wooden door close, and my hair was pushed away by Grantaire. He pulled me into his arms, resting his forehead on mine.
"You alright?"
I nodded lightly, curling my arms around his neck. He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, then out of nowhere, started to chuckle. "I don't even know your name."
I giggled lightly, hiding my face in his chest. "Brielle," I said, voice somewhat muffled.
He lifted my head with one hand, smiling cheekily. "And you seem to know me already. But I'm Grantaire, for propriety's sake."
I laughed a little, smiling up at him. He bent his head toward mine, capturing my lips in yet another kiss. This one surprised me. The kiss was slow, gentle, almost loving. Perhaps not exactly loving, but it was definitely something. I rested my hands on his chest, pushing him away slowly. His cocky smile returned.
"Y'like?"
I rolled my eyes. "Sure."
"I take it I performed poorly, then," he said with a smirk. "Allow me to make up for it."
"Oh, and do tell how you plan on making up for it."
He grinned.
This kiss was much more heated; frantic, almost. His lips moved roughly against mine, one hand sliding up my back and pushing me closer. This time my tongue teased him, the tip of it tracing his lips. He let out a breathless grunt, parting his lips and twisting his tongue around mine.
Suddenly he backed me against the wall, pressing our bodies hard against each other. Part of me realized that he seemed rather experienced, but the rest of me really didn't care. On one hand, I was making out with a clueless drunk. On the other, I was making out with fine gentleman. A gentleman drunk, I decided then and there. Grantaire was my gentleman drunk.
I hardly noticed that he'd deepened the kiss until I felt his tongue explore my mouth. I wrestled my tongue with his, but he refused to give in. I felt something hard press against the inside of my thigh, and knew then what he was aiming to do. But I didn't pull away, not just yet.
My heart was thudding wildly, but I didn't care. For some odd reason, the taste of brandy on his breath made me want him even more. He grinded his hips against mine, and I couldn't hold back a soft moan. Afraid of waking someone, I slid my hands to his chest, teasing a few of the buttons of his shirt open. He groaned into the kiss, arms tightening further around my waist.
I pushed him away. He gave me a look that only a little kid whose toy had been taken away would give you. I smirked, biting back a laugh, then walked back behind the bar and leaned against it.
"I'm sorry, but the Café Musain is now closed."
He ran a hand through his hair, sighing almost dejectedly. But the serious facade eventually faded. "I'll be back for more. Mark my words."
"Consider them marked."
He laughed.