5/6/13

Hey guys, so this is just a little fun, slightly humourous, eventually e/R, Modern AU I have been working on for a bit. Enjoy and please R&R for me!

Paparazzi

Chapter 1

Julien Enjolras pushed his way through the crowds gathered outside his offices. Ever since he had been elected, the paparazzi had horded round him all looking for the lasted scoop for their respective newspapers. He hated journalists; he hated them with a passion the rivalled his passion for his country. Enjolras had been elected as President of France two weeks previously and it was as if the hype would not die down until he was beaten in the next election. "'Jolras!" a familiar voice shouted as the one person he actually wanted to see fell into rank next to him. Lucien Combeferre was Enjolras' lifelong friend, personal assistant and was like his older brother. He would never have managed this if it wasn't for him; and Enjolras would be eternally in his debt. "You are an angel!" he exclaimed as Combeferre passed him a large vanilla latte with heaps of cream.

"Thought you might need the boost today, seeing as though your favourite person has just slid past the security," Combeferre sighed and Enjolras instantly turned around.

The most annoying journalist to grace the earth strolled past his security with practiced ease and a smug smile plastered on his face. "Oh God, not now!" Enjolras sighed in despair as the reporter strolled towards him. He tried to hurry away but the reporter just lengthened his strides. Nicolas Grantaire was the bane of every politician's life. He had a way of out talking you and crushing your ideals in a record breaking time. And he somehow managed to talk you into sounding like an idiot for his paper. He was actually freelance and the main papers were always bidding extortionate amounts of money for his degrading articles. Grantaire also seemed to have a thing about Enjolras; ever since he was just the new kid on the block in politics to the present he was always there ready with a snide and cynical comment. "Monsieur President!" Grantaire called out with a smirk as he drew level with Enjolras.

"Not now Grantaire," he sighed while stepping into the lift with Combeferre. Unfortunately Grantaire took that as an invitation to join them.

"I just need to talk to you about an interview I conducted with Robin de Courfeyrac, the prime minister," he smiled standing in the way of the door. "He said that some of your policies will have to wait and will probably be used to win the next election. Is this true?" Grantaire asked with his tape recorder already out.
"Did he really?" Enjolras questioned sceptically. Grantaire pulled out another tape and played it. Courfeyrac's voice played out.

"Yes some of our policies will have to wait. Things cannot change overnight," he explained.
"Will it take a few years before you get round to these lesser policies?" Grantaire asked.
"Maybe, we will just have to see how it goes but that is likely," Courfeyrac replied remaining calm.
"So these will be used to win the next election?" Grantaire stated.
"No, no I-I never said that!" Courfeyrac exclaimed.
"But you hinted that you would save policies. That would be a great temptation to do it so people remember for the election wouldn't it?" He asked, clearly manipulating the prime minister.
"Well yes it would be a temptation," Courfeyrac mumbled and the recording cut out. Enjolras sighed.
"So when and where did you ask him these questions?" Combeferre asked, trying to defend Courfeyrac.
"Seven o clock yesterday morning at the local swimming pool," Grantaire smiled. Enjolras shook his head. No wonder Courfeyrac had been confused; these questions had been piled on him during his early morning swim.

"So Monsieur Enjolras, do you agree with this statement?" Grantaire asked sticking the tape recorder in his face.
"No I don't," Enjolras stated but was interrupted again.
"Is there a disagreement between you and Monsieur de Courfeyrac?" Grantaire blurted out.
"No! Whatever gave you that idea?" he exclaimed before Grantaire ran with that wrong idea.
"He told me one thing and you told me the exact opposite ... That sounds like a disagreement to me," he replied as the lift continued to slowly progress up.
"No, Courfeyrac just got slightly confused," Enjolras sighed but was cut off again.
"So you are saying Courfeyrac is an idiot then?" Grantaire argued and Enjolras tensed, he was ready to beat up Grantaire. But that would not be good for his image.
"I said no such thing!" he exclaimed in defence.
"Well you said Courfeyrac was confused by my questions but yet you understand perfectly," he stated, smiling at his target beginning to get flustered.
"He is just inexperienced in this field," Enjolras sighed running his hand through his hair. Grantaire grinned.

"Thank you for your time," he smiled as the elevator pinged to a stop. The doors opened and Grantaire waved at the pair stepped out. The elevator doors slid shut ad Enjolras stood, bemused.

"What just happened?" he asked, finally taking a sip of his coffee.

The next morning Enjolras walked into his office to find a copy of this week's Le Canard enchaîné sat on his desk. The headline stood out and Enjolras groaned in despair; President calls Prime Minister Inexperienced Idiot, by Nicolas Grantaire. After reading the full front page article, Enjolras groaned in despair, rubbing his eyes in exasperation. He was going to kill that man, slowly and painfully. Enjolras pulled out his mobile and speed dialled Combeferre. As soon as the Combeferre picked up, he began talking dispersing with all formalities.

"No you cannot kill Grantaire," Combeferre stated without a moment's hesitation. It was creepy sometimes how Combeferre knew what Enjolras was thinking without even a hint. Even over the phone his powers worked.

"How did you know I wanted to?" Enjolras asked with a small pout at being denied his revenge.

"The same way I know you are pouting right now," Combeferre replied, offhandedly.

"Secret cameras?" Enjolras asked slightly jokingly.

"No, you are terribly predictable and we have lived together for twenty years," Combeferre chuckled as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"That is true," he laughed.

"I'm just arriving at the office, see you in a mo," Combeferre added and hung up on him. Enjolras flung his phone onto the table and sat with his head in his hands. He loved this job; he really did but was it worth the hassle. He thought it was; he had the chance to change things like he had always wanted to do. Enjolras would just have to tolerate the bad sides for the greater good.

Combeferre strolled out of the lift with his arms full of coffee and pastries. After sharing them out so he just had his and Enjolras' left, he kicked Enjolras' door and was met with a sigh of relief from his younger brother. "I don't know what I would do without you mon grand frère!" he exclaimed grabbing the coffee and blueberry muffin. They were not really brothers; just as close as you could get to brothers without being related. Enjolras' father was an abusive drunkard who seemed to beat his only son every time he was home. Combeferre was Enjolras' best friend who lived over the road. So when the beatings were so extreme as to land Enjolras in hospital, Combeferre's family took him in and raised him as their own son.

"You would starve, mon petit frère," Combeferre stated watching as Enjolras wolfed down the muffin.

"Now that is true," he conceded with a small smile.

"Fey says that he doesn't blame you for what that bloody manipulative idiot said," Combeferre explained reading from the text he had received. "I think we know who he is talking about," he added and Enjolras nodded solemnly.

"I have organised for you to make a reverse statement against what Grantaire wrote. I've also arranged for you to have lunch with Courf and hired a newspaper to cover it," Combeferre explained and Enjolras nodded.

"We need to get this cleared up by the EU-Russia summit. No one will value our views if they believe there are disagreements in the ranks," he sighed and Combeferre agreed.

"And your first meeting is here," Combeferre added, holding the door open for some official to stride in with a plan. It was going to be a long day but at least he was free this evening. Free to be who he wanted to be; without irritating meetings.