A/N: So this is the very short beginning to a fanfiction I found on my old computer. I must have written this story eight or nine years ago. It is mostly unfinished, but if you guys like the beginning (even though it doesn't reveal much plot), I will gladly post the other existing chapters and start to finish this! :) It will probably have a bit of Grantaire/Enjolras.
Grantaire strolled through the avenues of Paris. To stroll, according to Bahorel, was the way of the Parisian. So Grantaire strolled. He loved to stroll. He would stroll past the cafes and the shops and taverns, winking and gesturing to the girls and maids and barmaids. He would twirl his handkerchief in the air as he went, flicking it at pigeons and snapping it at the little scurrying gamins, who, despite this unwelcoming gesture, followed him like magnets. He tipped his hat at a jaunty angle and wore his coat half unbuttoned, and he did so with all his little gamins, so the lot of them looked like many little Grantaires, all swinging handkerchiefs, all winking at the girls, all strolling.
One particular day, a stormy and quite windy one, Grantaire and his gamins strolled into their café, singing loudly and quite out of tune. They had all had a spot of wine, and though this hadn't much affected Grantaire, the little gamins' small bodies couldn't take the wine as well as he. They lolled to the chairs and each sat down, some resting their heads on the tables. Grantaire, leaving his gamins to rest there, waltzed over to the counter. There was no one. Not even the barmaid. The café was surprisingly empty. Actually, it was completely empty. It was still slightly battered from the last revolution that Enjolras had put up, but there usually were a few people who still went there. The emptiness made Grantaire a bit uneasy.
"Gamins, I am leaving for a bit, and I'll be right back. No touching the wine while R is gone, now."
The gamins all nodded, still sitting calmly at their tables.
"Yes, R," they chorused.
Grantaire put his hat back on and strolled back out onto the streets. He was bound to find someone out there. Perhaps they all went to the opera. Even the streets seemed devoid of many people; there were only women, small children, and old men around.
"Strange," thought Grantaire. The last time this had happened, Enjolras had rounded up every young man in Paris to watch his demonstration on barricading. Grantaire did not remember this, though, so he still found it indescribable where the men of Paris could possibly be.
He strolled onward pondering over this question for a few more minutes, trying to come up with an answer.
"There must be an opera featuring all the pretty young girls of Paris, and they've all gone there to get one. That's it, beyond doubt."
Not quite. The moment at which he said that, Grantaire bumped into someone. They both fell to the ground, papers, hats, and featherpens flying every which way.
"Winecask, what the hell!" cried the aggravated voice as he picked up his belongings.
"I'm terribly sorry, chap, but—Feuilly!"
Grantaire immediately helped his friend to his feet, dusting off Feuilly's Polish-style hat and placing it back on his head.
"What brings you here, Feuilly?"
"Not now, I'm busy, R."
Grantaire watched Feuilly closely. He seemed to be directing some people towards something.
"Bring it there, that's it," he called to a pair of young men carrying an old broken table. The men threw the table onto a pile of objects in the middle of the street that looked oddly familiar to Grantaire.
"Feuilly? Is this another…barricade?" he asked, though he knew the answer. Feuilly answered without looking at him.
"Yes, it is. That's it, boys! Now, bring that over there!" he called. Grantaire shook his head.
"Where's Enjy?"
"On top."
Grantaire looked to the top of the still-in-progress barricade. Sure enough, there was Enjolras, his blond hair blowing in the wind, the stormy grey sky bringing out his sparkling blue eyes. He was holding a new red flag very carefully sewn to a pole. The tricolour was once again around his waist. Grantaire's eyes flashed with annoyance.
"Feuilly, are you guys trying to get killed again?!"
Feuilly looked at Grantaire.
"Actually, we are trying to establish the Republic again. Will you help? Any help is desired."
"No! I've got a family to take care of! I can't get killed!"
"Family? What family, Grantaire?"
"My gamins!"
"Grantaire, are you not a part of the ABC family as well?"
Grantaire was shocked. A part of the ABC family? He'd never have thought it!
"Well, I…I never thought I was considered a part of your…family. Are you serious, Feuilly? Do you like me?"
"Well, ever since that night on the barricade when you and Enjolras both got shot even though there was no godly reason for you to be there, yes, you have been a part of the family."
"Oh happy day!"
"Yes, Winecask. Now are you going to help—
"Oh happy, happy, wondrous day! I must go tell my gamins!"
"Grantaire—
"I'll be back soon, my dear Feuilly! Adieu!"
He waved his handkerchief flamboyantly in farewell, but before he left, he called up to Enjy, who, upon seeing who had called him, noted Grantaire's presence with an air of "oh no".
"Enjy!"
"Winecask."
"We are brothers, you and I!"
And with that, he strolled off, now rather quickly, towards his beloved Café.
"Gamins!" cried Grantaire as he burst into the Café Musain. They were all just where he'd left them: asleep at the empty tables. "Gamins, wake up! There's news! There's news!"
They groaned sleepily but did not lift their heads.
"It's very good news!" he cried again impatiently. Gavroche peeked at him through one eye.
"What kind of good news?"
"Good good news!"
Navet also peeked at him.
"Well what is it?" the sand-haired gamin piped. Gavroche nodded as to second the question.
"I am a part of the ABC family! I'm no longer just their drunkard!" he said ecstatically. The gamines blinked. They cocked their heads. They cocked their eyebrows. Grantaire frowned. He was expecting a bit more of a reaction from them.
"And there might be another barricade on the rise," he added reluctantly. The gamins' eyes grew wide. They yelped excitedly. Ah, there was the reaction he wanted.
"Really, R?! That is good news!"
"Yes. And I shall help this time. I am accepting the role of a family member and I shall aid my brothers in their plight for a better France!" And maybe this time I'll not sleep through the whole darn thing. He'll like that, won't he?
"And I will help too!"
"Yes indeed, little Gavroche! Let's go to the barricade now! Let us begin our family duties!"
"Aye!"
And then the two of them, the gamin and the reformed drunkard, waltzed out of the café, swinging their handkerchiefs proudly.