A.N. – First things first –
This is a speculative work with it's roots in the recent film, seeking to explain how - in the film-verse – Marius and Enjolras might have initially met and developed the intimacy that was practically blazing off the screen. Later, the plot will converge with canon. Moreover, almost all my knowledge of this fandom comes from the musical and the film – anything I need to know from the Brick, I look up online. In other words, disregard the book.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but what I thought up.
Warnings: Slash galore. I think that about covers it.
Aristocracy was greatly overrated; or so the brown-eyed youth thought to himself, one long, pale finger idly tracing the needlework that covered the chair. All that was expected of one in la bonne société was to maintain an appropriately haughty expression, be seen with right personages in the right places, and keep charmingly aloof. Supposedly, he had been assured since his cradle days, this would ensure him a good standing and an appropriately appealing wife.
Not that he had any use for either. Dieu, would it do the family such harm if he simply remained above stairs for the course of one evening? Besides, he'd be far more useful to his books than to Grand-pere and his talk of acres and estate -
The front knocker fell four times, and every sinew in Maris' belly stiffened.
His discomfort appeared only too obvious to the room's other occupants. Monsieur Gillenormand merely shot him a stern look, and rose to the more dominating position by the fireside. Another childhood lesson – the master of any house must always appear so.
His aunt meanwhile – poor, mousy-haired Tante Alexandrine – gazed sympathetically from beneath thin lashes. Heavens knew she likely despised the social circle for her own reasons – her lack of beauty for one thing, and her intense shyness, which seemed to have - indirectly and unfortunately - engrained itself into her nephew. Small wonder though, Marius pondered silently; she had been the chief upbringer nearly all of his short life, leaving the more "gentlemanly" elements of his education to his grandfather – never mind that he'd never exactly been informed of what those were...
Suddenly there came that wretched, too-polite cough from the majordomo, followed by his achingly proper pronouncement –
"Le Baron Fernand d'Enjolras, et son fils."
Knowing what was expected, Marius rose with an inaudible sigh – and found himself looking into the sun.
Blue eyes flickered about the room briefly before resting upon his own, and with a thrill he found that they chose to remain.
Vaguely, he realized his grandfather was introducing him, and offered his hand.
The aging baron had skin like leather, but the harsh texture was more than appeased by what followed. The second palm that met his own was warm to the touch, and firm, and as their eyes locked Marius couldn't be certain that the shared gaze wasn't radiating heat.
"Enchanté, m'seigur..."
Dieu, one could bathe in that voice... and the youth might have attempted it, had not the other young man released his grip and followed his father's lead in greeting the lady. Something cold flooded his veins at the loss of the contact – both physical and visual – yet the moment pleasantries were completed, and the men settled on a gilt chaise, Marius felt a rush of heat drown his belly as blue eyes settled upon his face once again.
Christ, he had thought these emotions purged long ago – ever since that... incident with the pageboy when he was sixteen...
Still, in his own soul, he couldn't bring himself to truly complain. Not when the blonde-curled beauty before him was such a far cry from the unassuming creature he had first envisioned, given the Baron's infamous lack of male attractiveness...
It was just as well that he despised seafood of any form, particularly crabes, though Marius privately doubted it would have mattered - had dinner been canard à l'orange et gelée de champagne, he would likely still have been poking incuriously with his fork.
His delight was barely four feet away, at the opposite side of the dining table, and little could distract him – besides, he'd much rather go hungry than wolf down something delicious, and risk appearing gluttonous... The thought quickly turned his head to the rest of his physique – was his face clean? Had that irritating wisp of brown hair finally decided to remain still? Or did he look little better than the scullery slattern?
His rush of panic was harshly interrupted by a barking laugh from the baron.
"Mon Dieu Charles, don't speak of politics before my son! He was all but ready to torch the estate upon learning you to be a royalist!"
The baron continued his chuckling, completely unaware of his son's increasing flush, his blue eyes glittering with what looked to be more rage than embarrassment. Marius instantly felt a rush of pity, and before he had quite given thought to the matter, came to the other's rescue.
"You're a republican than, m'seigur?"
The blonde youth allowed his tongue to roll slightly across his teeth, likely from discomfort, although it sent a thrill down the dark-eyed boy's spine.
"I say only that all men deserve an equal right to a life free of hardship – no more than is humanly lawful -"
"Gods!" came the voice from the head of the table, and Marius fought to choke back his annoyance at his grandfather's interruption. "Every boy these days has become a radical at heart, Fernand! They march off to these modernist universities and allow their heads to be filled with such rot on the streets. I fear for my charge, truly, with the winter term so near –"
"You attend the Collège National?" the younger guest broke in, thoroughly ignoring his father's pointed glare for interrupting the tirade.
Marius was aware that his hand had begun to flutter, and ground it dangerously into the muscle of his thigh.
"Indeed. You as well?"
"Oui."
His breath shallow, the youth made a show of biting his lips in a thoughtful manner – unaware that the abuse only plumped them red and inviting...
"What an... intriguing... coincidence..." he muttered, trying to focus upon the seashell meringue he had begun to allow to melt between his jaws, only too aware of the close gaze of the boy opposite.
"Oui..." he murmured again, the final syllable carrying only the ghost of a sigh - though imperceptible to any not searching – as he plucked a slick grape from the ornate cluster at the table's center, and laid it tantalizingly along his tongue... Which, Marius noticed involuntarily, was rather a ripe, fruitful red color...
The meal went on for five courses, the elder gentlemen bargaining the sale value of half the Gillenormand vineyards in Provence, and the lady of the house quietly calculating her timetable for the next day.
None took any notice of the two boys undressing each other with their eyes.
"Bonsoir."
Forcing down his leaping heartbeat, Marius turned his eyes to the library balcony, relatively unsurprised at being un-alone.
Fate was a trickster.
"Et vous."
He fought for composure, struggling to maintain the etiquette drummed into him since childhood, yet aching to throw propriety to the four winds and obey the wild scream in his head – closer, closer, touch, feel...
"If I – If I might apologize for my relations' behavior, m'seigur –"
"Please," came the soft chide from above, "don't age me before my time. It's only Enjolras, at least to the boys at school..."
He seemed to pause for a moment, leaving a somewhat tense silence.
"In any event," he went on rapidly, in a darker tone. "I've grown accustomed to cynicism over time – hardly stings anymore." With a derisive laugh " Father thinks it wildly amusing to inform all we meet that I am betrothed to Patria. But anyway, it'll mean nothing once I've convinced the others –have you been to Paris? Not the bourgeoisie districts, the slums, the Cour des miracles?"
Marius only shook his head slightly, blushing with self-perceived inadequacy.
"It's sickening – beggars who blind themselves, mothers with six children turning to sell their bodies merely for a few scraps, children born into wretched families where their only hope of survival is extortion, swindling, and thievery – and all the while lard-faced men like our all-majestic king rush by in their coaches, convincing themselves that they see nothing."
He all but spat the final word, the same furious glow illuminating his eyes – before he suddenly seemed to recall his surroundings.
"Forgive me, I –"
"Non." Came a soft voice at his ear. "Passion is no shame..."
The candles had burned low, leaving them in a shadowed half-light, and Marius felt his breath flutter across the other's lips at the danger presented by the darkness – now, when they were close enough they might brush skin to skin... connected by warm, shaking breaths and heavily lidded eyes...
Suddenly Enjolras seemed to shake himself free.
"I wish more thought as you – many at the university consider me an extremist –"
"I couldn't think why..." Marius muttered, still lost somewhere in the spell. "It's what you think right..."
Their eyes met once again, only briefly, before the gaze was torn – this time by the darker pair.
"It's late... We can speak longer in the morning."
"Oui."
"Er – Bonne nuit."
"Vous aussi."
Marius turned quickly and made for the gilded doors – never noticing the way the blonde youth above gnawed at his own lips, his hands shaking until they threatened to rend the tome that he held protectively...
"By the way –"
Marius spun around, brown eyes nervous –
"It's Julien. Julien Enjolras."
Rain splattered against the hallway windows, the storm knocking the trees about wildly... As a child, Marius had been terrified of foul weather, and often ran for the shelter of his aunt's skirts.
Tonight it was a shelter in itself.
His knuckles whitened around the stem of the candelabra, praying that no night-walking servant would note it's absence from the hall, and begin to search...
The house had sixteen guest bedrooms – a thoroughly ridiculous excess in his opinion. The days of elaborate guest affairs were long gone... but perhaps it was yet another of his guardian's desperate attempts to cling to the past.
No matter.
His heart battering at his rib cage, the boy wrapped a pale hand around the engraved doorknob, every resolve nearly shattering with the click of the latch...
He slid through the opening like a cat, eyes fixing upon Apollo where he stood by the fire, disheveled and startled by the intrusion.
There was no need for words. Marius set the candles down with a trembling hand, crossed the embroidered rug in three strides, and made his claim. There was no finesse, no grandeur, just an immediate, needing press of lips, gradually allowing mouths to open and tongues to explore frantically.
They were both shaking now, Marius realized numbly – Enjolras had his hands fisted in the fabric of his vest, and all the dark-eyed boy could think to do was wrap his arms tightly and hold him, drag his hands through lucisous blonde curls...
The force of their lips drove them into movement, until they spilled onto the bed together – Enjolras on his back and Marius on Enjolras.
The need for air finally became undeniable, and they broke apart with gasps, chests heaving. Marius drew his lips down the other's throat, pausing to lap feverishly at the hollow as firm hands pulled at his waistcoat and the shirt underneath – just a body screaming to another, take me, and take me now –
The moments flew by, nothing but heated lips crashing into contact, sweat mingling with sweat, shirts wrenched from pale shoulders by desperate hands – until Marius found himself slumped over his bedfellow like a ram, and the boy was shaking underneath him, and crying out in a way that wasn't quite fear, wasn't quite pain...
"Mon Dieu, Julien..." he murmured softly, grasping his shoulders and pushing himself forward – The skin of his belly slipped along the other's back, and a burst of light exploded behind his eyes, forcing him to keep still a moment as his heart and organs settled...
"Jesu ... ne qui aime de nouveau, s'il vous plaît..."
A spark of ice stabbed into Marius' gut, but could do nothing to cool the heat in his veins.
"Oh mon dieu - je suis désolé - vous êtes-"
Enjolras fought for a breath, before catching one of the hands that rode his shoulders and squeezing. Marius thought his heart might have caught in his throat...
"Vais bien ... seulement m'avez fait peur..."
The only answer was soft graze of lips along the shell of his ear, a nuzzle at a few curls...
Marius jolted his hips again, and the firestorm in his body only seemed to worsen –delightfully so – leaving him panting and clutching at any piece of warm skin he might reach. It tasted like salt under his tongue, felt slick under his hands, and the thought of how it must seem to the beauty twisting underneath him – to be trapped in someone's arms, out of control for once, pushed into that storm... Marius felt his eyes roll back and threw himself into the effort, frantic – his tongue fluttered delicately against darkened lips, every sensation of pleasure beginning to grow unbearable, until there was nothing to be done but muffle his screams into a warm neck and cling to the last threads of sanity, as his Apollo clenched at his hands and ground himself into the bedcovers, moaning...
He felt himself drift back together from the pieces he'd been shattered into, sweat dripping and each breath coming shakily.
"Julien..."
There was an agonizing pause, giving him ample time to panic- he'd only realized what that internal tension must have meant, and it was enough to make him wish he could curl up like a tortise and never have to face him again... And still, just to look at him... he couldn't fathom being the first to drag his hands through those curls, to hold his hips as they moved like animals, to kiss his neck as he calmed...
"Mmm..?"
"'M... 'm sorry... I didn' know..."
The blonde sighed heavily, turned slowly on his back, and put an end to Marius' pleas for forgiveness by filling his mouth with wet tongue and pulling him close.
TBC
A.N. – Now, for any of you who thought that happened a bit fast - good. That's
what you're supposed to think. Because this isn't affection, not yet. It's sexual tension, but we'll get to the romantic stuff – I promise!
Remember to review!
Translations:
la bonne société - good society
Dieu - God
Grand-pere - Grandfather
Tante - Aunt
et son fils - And son
Enchanté, m'seigur - a polite, formal greeting
crabes - cooked crab
canard à l'orange et gelée de champagne - roast duck with orange and champagne jelly
Oui - Yes.
Bonsoir - Good evening
Et vous - And you.
Non - No.
Bonne nuit - Good night
Vous aussi - You too.
Mon Dieu - Oh my God / My God
Jesu ... ne qui aime de nouveau, s'il vous plaît - Jesus... Not like that again, please...
Oh mon dieu - je suis désolé - vous êtes - Oh my God - I'm sorry - You're -
Vais bien ... seulement m'avez fait peur... - 'm fine... just got scared...