A/N: This occurs around six months after "Before the Fire Dies." You don't have to read that fic to understand this one, but certain lines will make more sense, and Pining!jolras will seem less OOC. This is sort of tropey, and dumb, but it helps me relax.
Happy reading!
Enjolras grinned at the design in front of him. "I love it, Aire. It's perfect."
The artist smiled. "So what are you going to do tonight?"
The blonde shrugged. "I don't know. You?"
"I was just going to go home, get a drink, get some Chinese take-out, and watch a movie." Grantaire paused. "You could…you could join me, if you like." The artist mentally slapped himself; what was he doing? "He's only being nicer to you because he pities you, and feels bad," Grantaire thought to himself. "There's no way he actually wants to spend time with you."
On the other hand, Enjolras' eyes widened.
Almost immediately after the attempt, Enjolras realized that at some level, he loved the artist.
After four months, Enjolras realized that his brotherly love had turned romantic.
So, for two months now, Enjolras had been pining.
He immediately replied, "I'd love to." Opportunities to spend at least two unadulterated hours with the object of your affections didn't come around every day.
Grantaire looked up in surprise. Well then. He reached out, grabbing Enjolras' hand. "C'mon. Rhiannon's out back."
Enjolras narrowed his eyes as Grantaire dragged him around the back of the Musain. "Who's Rhiannon?"
Grantaire stopped in front of a black Harley-Davidson. "This is Rhiannon," he announced proudly.
Enjolras quirked an eyebrow at him. "Rhiannon? Like the Celtic goddess? Or like the song? That is a song right."
"Yeah, it's by Fleetwood Mac. And, uh, actually I just kind of liked the name." Grantaire reached over, and procured two black helmets, offering one to Enjolras.
The blonde warily took the helmet offered him, and pulled it over his halo of blonde curls.
The dark haired artist grinned. "It suits you, Apollo," he said, pulling his own helmet on.
Grantaire climbed on to the motorcycle. He paused before saying, "Well? You getting on or what?"
Enjolras shook his head, as though to bring him back to reality. "Oh, yeah. Of course." He climbed on behind Grantaire. Enjolras wasn't sure what to do beyond that.
Grantaire sensed this, and directed him. "Hold on to me, so you don't go flying."
Enjolras gingerly put a hand on either side of Grantaire's ribcage. The artist turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. Enjolras jumped in fright, his arms wrapping around Grantaire's waist.
The artist smiled. "Rhiannon's bark is worse than her bite."
"What…Whatever y-you say," Enjolras stammered.
They sped away toward Grantaire's apartment.
Enjolras followed Grantaire up the steps to the artist's apartment. He swallowed as Grantaire swung the door open; the last time he'd been here, he'd found Grantaire close to death.
Enjolras stopped in tracks. Grantaire turned around, his expression confused. "You can come in, you know."
Enjolras nodded. "Right." He took a deep breath, and crossed the threshold.
"The menus are in the desk drawer there. I'm going to get us drinks. What would you like?"
Enjolras shrugged noncommittally. "Beer it is," Grantaire said. Enjolras moved to the desk drawer, pulling out the menus.
He flipped through the take out menus in shock. "I didn't know there were this many takeout places in town."
"Yeah, I've acquired several menus over the years," Grantaire called from the kitchen. He walked out to where Enjolras stood, deliberating. He offered one of the Blue Moons he kept for special occasions; Grantaire counted Enjolras agreeing to spend the evening with him as a special occasion.
Enjolras took the drink almost absentmindedly. He wrenched the cap off, and took a rather large swig, surprising Grantaire.
Enjolras held up a battered looking menu for a Chinese restaurant. "This one."
Grantaire nodded, grinning. "Good choice. It's one of my favorites. What do you want?"
"Surprise me," Enjolras said. Grantaire nodded, pulling out his phone. The artist proceeded to order their food in perfect Mandarin.
Enjolras' jaw dropped, and he stared at Grantaire for the duration of the call. When Grantaire hung up, Enjolras cried, "You speak Mandarin?"
The artist nodded sheepishly. "I took a few courses."
"Any other talents I should know about?"
Grantaire just chuckled, and walked over to a cabinet. "Here's my movie collection. If you don't find anything you like, we can browse Netflix."
Enjolras nodded, coming up behind Grantaire to get a better look at the menagerie of films.
After scrutinizing them for a moment, Enjolras stated, "You know, you have a lot of chick flicks."
"I thought that inanimate objects didn't have a gender," Grantaire drawled.
Enjolras scowled. "They don't. I'll give you that. That doesn't change the fact that the target audience of these films are mostly female."
Grantaire tipped his bottle in Enjolras' direction. "True."
Enjolras reached out and grabbed the first movie he got ahold of. "My Girl," he read.
Grantaire's breath caught in his throat. "Oh, Patria. Get some tissues."
Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Tissues? It looks like two twelve year olds having their sexual awakenings."
"It's so much more than that," Grantaire wailed sarcastically, taking the DVD from Enjolras and cradling it to his chest.
Enjolras looked skeptical. "Are you sure you want to watch it if it's so emotionally compromising."
Grantaire nodded. "Nostalgia."
"Okay," Enjolras replied, reaching his hand out. "Give it here."
Grantaire did as he was told, and handed it over. Enjolras put the disk in the DVD player.
Fifteen minutes into the film, the deliveryman arrived.
Grantaire paused the film, and got up to pay.
Enjolras watched the artist cross the room. Again, Grantaire conversed in perfect Mandarin.
The deliveryman said something that caused the tips of Grantaire's ear to turn red. The artist tried to stammer something, but was cut off by the deliveryman. The redness on Grantaire's ears turned into a flush, turning his face bright red.
The artist shut the door, and proceeded to rest his forehead on it.
Enjolras, concerned for Grantaire's well being, walked up behind him. "Aire?"
Grantaire spun around, and clasped a hand to his chest. "Jesus, Apollo, you scared me."
"Sorry." Enjolras paused. "What did that delivery man say to make you blush so badly?"
"You really don't want to know."
"Actually, I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked."
Grantaire sighed. "He basically told me to watch out, or he'll steal my pretty girl away," he informed Enjolras, wincing all the while.
"As if anyone could steal me from you."
Both boys' eyes went wide when they realized what Enjolras had said. Grantaire's because from anyone else that line would sound like flirting. Enjolras' because he'd said it out loud.
Grantaire cleared his throat. "We…we should eat while the food is still hot."
Enjolras nodded.
They awkwardly made their way to the couch, and started the movie up again.
Grantaire was never good at handling Thomas J's death.
Apparently, neither was Enjolras.
The blonde had remained fairly steadfast until Vada cried, "Where are his glasses?" The tears that had been forming in his eyes began to flow freely.
Grantaire reached out, resting his hand on top of Enjolras'. "Hey, it's okay."
"No it's not. No one deserves to have their friend wrenched away from them like that."
The artist tentatively draped an arm across Enjolras' shoulders. "I know. It's awful."
"No, you don't understand. I was almost there. That could've been you in that casket."
Grantaire's eyes went wide. "I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. I didn't even think about it." He tightened his grip on the blonde, and gently placed a hand on one side of Enjolras' face. "But, I'm here. I'm okay, and I'm here. I won't leave you."
Enjolras nodded, and dropped his head on Grantaire's shoulder.
Grantaire spent the rest of the movie with a blonde revolutionary in his arms.
When the credits finally rolled, Enjolras reluctantly stood and stretched. "Ow," he whined, as his back cracked in several places. "I am not looking forward to the walk home."
"So don't go," Grantaire muttered, torn between actually wanting Enjolras to stay and him leaving so that Grantaire could sort his thoughts.
Enjolras didn't hear him. "I'm really glad I came, Aire. We should do this again sometime."
Grantaire nodded noncommittally. Enjolras gently tipped his chin up. "I mean it. We should do this again. I don't remember the last time I had this much fun."
At this Grantaire smiled. "I'm glad you had fun." He stood. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"
Enjolras shook his head as he began to walk toward the door. "No, it's okay. I'll just walk. I don't mind."
Grantaire opened the door for him. "Well, be careful. You might get jumped by randy deliverymen."
Enjolras beamed. "Goodnight, Grantaire." He didn't know what power possessed him, but he leaned forward and kissed the artist on the cheek.
This simple gesture elicited a deeper shade of red than the deliveryman had, and Enjolras felt proud.
"Goodnight," Grantaire muttered.
When the door shut, the artist sunk to the floor.
"I am so screwed," he said despondently.
Enjolras, who had sunk to the ground on the other side of the door, was grinning like an idiot. He slowly ran his thumb over his lower lip. The blonde tipped his head back, and sighed. "I am royally screwed," he thought, though he couldn't bring himself to care.
Enjolras did not see Grantaire for a whole week. This was understandable, as it was finals week. The next Friday, Enjolras sank into his sofa, moaning. He'd finally had his last final on the rainiest day of the year.
Courfeyrac snickered. "Glad to be done?"
"Hell yes."
His friend smiled. "Are you sure you don't want to do anything tonight?"
Enjolras nodded. "Yes, I'm sure. I just want to put on a historical film and fall asleep ten minutes in."
"Okay, 'cause Jehan and I…"
"I know. You wouldn't mind me tagging along. You said that several times already. Go out, get wasted, and get a hotel room. Have fun."
Courfeyrac grinned like the Cheshire cat as Jehan exited the bedroom. "Okay, Enj. We'll see you before Monday."
Enjolras wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, I'm suffocating in the stench of love. Get out."
"We love you, too," Jehan supplied.
When Enjolras was sure they weren't returning on account of forgetting something, he put in "Lincoln." Then he tipped his head back, closing his eyes. He was just on the verge of sleep when the doorbell rang.
He groaned, raking his fingers through his hair. He reluctantly stood and flung the door open, saying, "What did you forget…Grantaire?" Enjolras couldn't keep the smile off his face.
Grantaire had tossed the previous Friday around his brain endlessly. Enjolras had willingly spent two hours with him. "He's pitying you." Enjolras had spent at least half an hour tucked in his arms. "He was emotionally compromised." Enjolras had kissed his cheek. "It's not like that's an uncommon practice between friends."
Despite his cynical misgivings, Grantaire eventually decided there was only one way to figure out what was going on with Enjolras.
And so, the artist stood in the blonde's doorway, completely soaked from the rain, his helmet under one arm, a bag of takeout in the other. "Hey, Apollo." His whole body convulsed, shivering, and fighting off sneezes.
Enjolras reached out, grabbing the artist's wrists. "You're soaked to the skin! Get in! Out of the rain. Take those wet clothes off! I'll go get you a towel!"
Enjolras darted off. It wasn't until he reached the linen closet that he realized that he'd ordered Grantaire to strip. "I'm going to regret this. I know it," he muttered. Shaking his head, he grabbed a towel and an old duvet.
When he walked back into the living room, he found Grantaire curled up by the fireplace, his soaking wet jacket and jeans drying by the hearth. Enjolras raised his eyebrows at the blue jeans Grantaire had donned.
"And before you ask, no I wasn't a Boy Scout. I just always keep a spare pair of pants on the bike."
Enjolras smiled. "You're psychic." He knelt down, pulling Grantaire into a sitting position. Enjolras gently draped the duvet around his friend's shoulders. The artist clung to the blanket, drawing it as tightly around himself as was possible. "Thanks."
The revolutionary grinned. Even with his solid frame, the duvet completely swamped Grantaire, making him look like a child. "No problem," Enjolras replied, beginning to dry Grantaire's dark curls.
The artist was trying to ignore the fact that Enjolras was drying his hair. Pointing to the television, Grantaire asked, "What're you watching?"
"Lincoln."
"I heard that was supposed to be pretty good. What do you think?"
Enjolras scratched his head. "It was good the first time around, but it's starting to grow a bit stale."
Grantaire bit his lip. "Ever seen '12 Years a Slave'?"
Enjolras shook his head.
The artist smiled. He reached toward the bag of takeout, pulling out a DVD. "Put that in. I'll set up the food and pour the burgundy. Nothing cures the ache from a full day of finals like some Italian food and wine."
Despite the fact that wine was definitely not his choice method of dealing with post-finals stress, Enjolras smiled at Grantaire's thoughtfulness. "Okay."
"Out of curiosity," the artist mused, "Should we be expecting any company? Namely, your roommates?"
Enjolras shook his head. "Courfeyrac is taking Jehan on a 'weekend escape.'" He visibly shuddered.
"Are they really that bad?"
Nodding emphatically, Enjolras turned to face Grantaire. "Sickening. If I hadn't pushed them out, I don't think they'd have gotten farther than the couch."
Grantaire snorted. "And this is why I don't have roommates." He paused. "What about Combeferre?"
Enjolras grinned knowingly. "I believe he's invited Éponine to go see a movie with him."
The artist beamed. "Took them long enough."
The revolutionary quirked an eyebrow. "You knew about this?"
Grantaire snorted. "Please. They've been hot for each other since they got locked in a closet during Truth or Dare. Not that anything went down. Something came up, though," he said with a devilish grin.
Enjolras laughed. "I remember that night. Didn't you end up kissing Cosette?"
"Yes," Grantaire replied, between chuckles. "Marius is lucky."
Enjolras shuddered "How about we don't talk about my sister's kissing skills?"
Grantaire took a bite of food, before saying, "Fair enough. You sat out that night, right?"
Enjolras hummed in agreement. "Always do," he muttered, cheeks flushing.
Grantaire didn't need to be a rocket scientist to read Enjolras' expression. He reached out and patted the blond man's shoulder. "It's cool, man. When it happens, it happens. There's no deadline for life's milestones."
Enjolras smiled. "Thanks, Grantaire." He paused pensively. "It's just…"
"Enj, it's fine. I completely understand. Like I said, when it happens, it happens. I can't wait to hear about it when it does. Whoever you share it with will be very lucky."
Grantaire grimaced, the image of Apollo in the arms of some Hyacinthus proving unpleasant. And people wondered why Dionysus drank so.
Enjolras couldn't help but think that the person with whom he wanted to share that first kiss would excite Grantaire very much.
A little over two hours later and three glasses of wine each, Enjolras turned to Grantaire incredulously. "That. Was. The. Best. Film. Ever. Oh my God."
Grantaire smiled. "I'm glad you liked it."
"What possessed you to come over tonight," Enjolras asked after a moment.
The artist shrugged. "I had a lot of fun last Friday. That, and I knew you'd had a hellish amount of finals. I thought you could use the company."
Enjolras smiled. "I'm glad you thought of it. Of me."
Grantaire just smiled, leaning into Enjolras. "Anything for you, Apollo."
The blonde caught the artist's hand, lacing their fingers together. "You're too kind. I don't deserve it."
"You're just saying that."
"I'm really not."
"Yes, you are. Shut up."
Enjolras raised his eyebrow. "Make me."
Grantaire reached over and clamped a hand over Enjolras' mouth. The artist snapped the hand away when something warm and wet trailed over it. "You licked me! Ugh." Grantaire wiped his hand on Enjolras' arm.
Enjolras snickered. "So I did. What are you going to do about it?"
The artist grinned menacingly, and leaned over, licking the side of Enjolras' face.
The blonde gaped. "You…y-you…," he spluttered.
Grantaire laughed.
"You little devil!" Enjolras reached forward, catching Grantaire's ribs. The artist gasped, and then burst into more laughter.
"Mercy! Cease and desist," he choked out between chortles.
"Make me."
Grantaire reached down to tickle the skin on the back of Enjolras' knee. The blonde shrieked, flailed about, and fell off the couch.
Grantaire peered over the edge. "Apollo? Are you – hey!" Enjolras had grabbed the collar of Grantaire's hoodie, pulling him onto the floor.
In an attempt to not crush Enjolras, Grantaire managed to flip himself in the air, and landed flat on his back, knocking the wind out of him.
Enjolras' eyes flew open. "Grantaire! Are you okay?" The artist was unable to answer, only a croak emitting from his mouth.
The revolutionary cradled Grantaire's face between his hands. "Aire? Speak to me? Have I hurt you?"
Grantaire swallowed. "No, I'm fine. Just got the breath knocked out of me," he managed hoarsely.
Enjolras dropped his forehead onto Grantaire's. "Thank Patria."
The artist froze when he sized up the other man's proximity. He cleared his throat.
Enjolras shot backwards, smashing his head against the edge of the coffee table. "Dammit!" He curled up, leaning against the couch, one hand pressed to the goose egg forming on the back of his head.
Grantaire jumped up and ran to the kitchen. He came back with a plastic bag full of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. "Come here," he said, kneeling next to Enjolras. He pressed the ice pack against the bump.
Enjolras winced.
"Sorry," Grantaire said quietly.
"Not your fault. I'm just exceedingly clumsy."
The artist held up two fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
Enjolras sighed. "Two. My vision is fine. I didn't even hit my head that hard."
"Whatever you say. Don't blame me when you lose your sight."
"I won't. I'll just make you lead me around."
"I've been reduced to a seeing eye dog," Grantaire protested, in mock indignation.
Enjolras reached up to ruffle his inky curls. "Yes, but a very cute seeing eye dog."
Grantaire's eyebrows shot up. "Cute?" Well, that was interesting.
The blonde's eyes shot open. Enjolras chuckled shakily. "Did I say that? Out…loud?"
Grantaire nodded. "You did."
Enjolras' eyes were like saucers. "Aire, I…"
Just then, Grantaire and Enjolras' phones vibrated simultaneously.
"R, I need to talk to you. – É"
"Enjolras, I need to speak with you. – Ferre"
Goddamn it.
Grantaire looked up from his phone first. "Do you think it went well, or not?"
"Ferre would've called if it'd gone poorly. I think it went well."
"You realize this probably means I should head home?"
Enjolras nodded sadly. "Yeah, I know."
Grantaire stood up and stretched. "At least it stopped raining."
Enjolras smiled, and handed Grantaire his helmet. "Thanks for coming over."
"My pleasure." He slowly walked to the door, followed by Enjolras. Grantaire stopped with his hand on the doorknob. "Hey. Got a question."
"Hmm?"
"Are you free next Friday?"
Enjolras nodded. "I am. Do you want to watch another movie?"
Grantaire grinned. "Be at my place around seven." He opened the door. "See you later, Apollo." He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of the revolutionary's mouth.
"See you later," Enjolras called weakly, his eyes wide with shock.
As soon as the door closed, the blonde limply flopped onto his sofa. He couldn't help the grin that split his face.
Grantaire replied to Éponine when he was safely home. "What did you want to talk about? – R"
"My date. Omg! Taire, he's such a gentleman! He held the umbrella for me, drove his car, which is really lame, but it was super adorable, and then he took me to this really fancy French restaurant, and we went to see this really romantic film. And I might've gotten a kiss. On the cheek. But it was still a kiss. - É"
"Glad you had a good night. – R"
"What did you do all evening? – É"
Grantaire swallowed hard. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to lie to Éponine, but he didn't know if Enjolras wanted their little soirées to become public knowledge. Les Amis had a tendency to…assume things. "Watched a movie, ate some Italian, and drank some wine." There. That wasn't a lie. He'd merely…omitted certain information. Like, how he'd spent the entire evening with Enjolras.
How he'd almost kissed the man full on the mouth.
Grantaire almost smiled, until the cynic in him caught up. Enjolras was probably pissed, especially after what he'd told Grantaire.
"I'm such an idiot."
Enjolras waited until Combeferre returned home.
"What's up, Ferre?"
"I kissed her." The man was beaming.
Enjolras was surprised. "What, like on the lips?"
"No. On the cheek. But it made her blush." Apparently, it made Ferre blush, too.
"I'm happy for you. I better be the first to know when you actually make it to first base."
"You're one to talk."
Enjolras blushed. He didn't suppose a kiss just shy of his mouth actually counted as first base.
"Wait, what?"
It was only then that Enjolras realized he'd been speaking aloud.
Combeferre removed his glasses, cleaning the lenses with the hem of his shirt. "Enjolras, explain yourself."
Enjolras swallowed hard, and looked his friend in the eye. "There's this guy."
Combeferre's eyebrows shot up. "There's a guy? Enj, have you been holding out on me?"
Enjolras dragged his fingers through his hair. "I wish I had more to tell. A kiss here doesn't quite count," he said, pointing to the corner of his mouth. "Of course, I did get a kiss, so…" He blushed.
Combeferre ruffled the blonde's curls. "I'm happy for you."
A/N:I know. That was probably hella stupid. Whatever. I feel better. If you enjoyed my goofiness leave a comment or kudos.
You can find me on Tumblr at: .com
Thanks for reading!