A/N; I have two headcanons which I included. One; Gavroche's first time drinking wine was at the hands of Grantaire. And two; Gavroche was always called 'little brother', 'little friend', 'little sir' and 'little Gavroche' which he had grown used to, but still annoyed him.
A/N edit. I wrote the majority of this whilst slightly intoxicated myself and my autocorrect changes Gavroche's name to Gavroshe so I apologise for that.
"Mon petit frere, come here." Grantaire beckoned Gavroche over to the table.
The small blonde boy scampered through the crowded room and stood by his side in a matter of seconds. His face was grubby and he was unwashed, the dirt collecting around his eyes made him look like he had been in several new fights recently. (He had, but that's beside the point).
"Tell me, have you ever had wine before?"
Gavroche shook his head, his eyes lighting up with laughter. "No, father used to put piss in it so I never drank none."
Grantaire tutted, "No man should treat wine in such a way." He pulled from his messenger bag a brown bottle. There was a cork shoved in the top that Grantaire pulled out with a skill that is only accomplished by repetition. He took a swig of the liquid inside and swirled it around his mouth. "Not bad, try some." He held the bottle out to Gavroche, who took it eagerly.
Gavroche raised the glass bottle to his lips and sipped it. The liquid was sweet and fruity, it tasted like bottled summers and he loved it. He put it down on the table and beamed at Grantaire. "I can see why you like it!"
"Drink as much as you want, mon petit ami." Grantaire waved his hand at the bottle, which the boy grabbed with both hands. Gavroche sat down at the table and cradled the wine. He sipped a few more times, watching all the commotion around him.
About half an hour later he tried to stand up and find Grantaire, who had completely disappeared. His legs couldn't support him properly and he collapsed to the floor.
Jehan, who had been passing, picked him up. "What's this, petit Monsieur?" He laughed, "Did you play a drinking game with the buveur?"
"Don't-" Gavroche thought for a second. "Don't call Grantaire the drinker, he's much more than that."
"I am sorry Gavroche, but I cannot understand a thing you've said. You're slurring far too much." Jehan smiled. He picked the boy up and put him back on the seat. "You stay right here, okay?"
Gavroche nodded, his head was spinning and he felt like he was going to be sick. He clenched and unclenched his fists in his trousers, swallowing the mess of flavours that coated his tongue. The sweetness of the wine was now underlaid with the taste of worry and of imminent sickness.
Jehan came back, Enjolras in tow. By now, several of the Amis were looking at the boy, who was drunk out of his mind. Gavroche was sat still; afraid that if he stood up he'd fall over, because the room was spinning so much.
Enjolras' blonde locks shone slightly in the dim afternoon sunlight. He pursed his lips as he took in Gavroche's state. He crouched down so he was squatting in front of the boy. His eyes were kind, but the rest of him spoke of anger. "Gavroche," he beckoned the boy forwards, "walk towards me."
Gavroche stood up and focused, hard, on walking straight to Enjolras. He managed it, only stumbling once. He smiled at the blonde man, who wrinkled his nose. "You smell worse than Grantaire."
Gavroche shook his head. "I only drank what he gave me."
Enjolras paused, "He gave you the wine?" He bit his lip and muttered, "Of course he did." He then pulled Jehan's trouser leg and spoke to the writer, "Find Grantaire and tell him I'm going to kill him."
