This is so weird...I haven't published a thing in AGES, and now here I am, with a bunch of one-shots just coming from nowhere. So! Here's an Enjolras one for you all! Well, really, Enjolras and Grantaire... I just love those two so much! I've always ADORED Les Miserables, and Enjolras has always been one of my favorite characters. And then the movie comes along...And Aaron Tveit is Enjolras...And the feels are just too much. He is PERFECTION. As is George "Blagdog" as Grantaire. Just...Too much. I LOVE THEM I REALLY DO. So. Enjoy this little one-shot, you lot!

Disclaimer: If I owned Enjolras I'd be a much happier person right now.

~Rosey

Sleeping Apollo

"And so it was that France passed into another ten years of-"

"Enjolras, you've read us this chapter five times already," Feuilly groaned, rolling his eyes and slamming his head back against the wall he was sitting by.

"Feuilly, it's important to know the history of the country you're fighting for," Enjolras scolded the fan-maker before turning another page in the giant volume he had in his hand. "You don't hear the rest of our amis complaining, now do you?"

"Enjolras. They're not complaining because they've all fallen asleep," Feuilly arched an eyebrow.

Indeed, Marius's head was facedown on the table, a slight snore coming from his lips. Grantaire slept soundly in his chair near the fireplace, his ever-present wine bottle dangling from his fingers. Combeferre was dozing from his position on the other end of the table, his arms crossed, his head bowed. Jean Prouvaire and Bahorel snoozed back to back from their sitting positions by the fireplace, and Courfeyrac, Joly, and Laigle had already left an hour ago when Enjolras had pulled out the massive book.

Enjolras reddened a little, and sighed deeply, his shimmering hair falling into his eyes. "You mean to tell me I've been reading this volume aloud for the past two and a half hours and everyone's been asleep?"

"I'm awake," Feuilly offered helpfully.

"Yes…" Enjolras conceded, chuckling slightly at his friend's hopeful smile. "And for that I'm very grateful. But it seems nobody else cares too awfully about the importance of French history, so if you'd like, you can go ahead and go on home, Feuilly. It's getting very late anyway."

"Merci, Enjolras," Feuilly gave his friend a smile, getting to his feet, wincing a little at the stiffness in his lower back from sitting on the ground so long. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"I'll see you then," Enjolras smiled back, getting down from his ever-popular standing position on top of the table and stretching himself. "Goodnight, Feuilly."

"Goodnight, Enjolras," the other man smiled, putting on his jacket and heading out into the night, whistling an old tune to himself.

Enjolras sighed a little, looking around at his sleeping friends, yawning behind his hand. Grantaire was snoring loudly now, and, drunkenly, was sliding slowly out of his chair. Enjolras rolled his eyes, going over to his friend and kicking him lightly with his toe. "Grantaire."

"1643!" Grantaire yelped, sitting bolt upright in his chair. "Louis died in 1643!"

Enjolras had to chuckle a little, snorting dryly. "Relax, mon ami. You were about to fall off the chair is all. Didn't want your face to meet the floor."

"Oh," Grantaire slurred sleepily, rubbing his hands across his eyes. "Thanks, Enjolras." The drunkard looked around the room tiredly before letting out a laugh. "You put everyone to sleep again, Apollo?"

"Oh, do shut up," Enjolras rolled his eyes, sitting down on the floor next to the chair that his friend was in, the book still in his hands. "It seems I'm the only one interested in French history out of the bunch of you."

"If you'd just stick to giving your speeches about the revolution and the republic, you wouldn't have to worry about us falling asleep. Your speeches are fantastic, Apollo," Grantaire offered his friend a drunken smile. "But those old textbooks-"

"Are full of information you really should know about our Motherland," Enjolras arched an eyebrow before sighing a little, shrugging. "But since I seem to be the only one around here who knows that…"

"Enjolras, why don't you just put that book down for the night and get some sleep? It's getting late anyway," Grantaire offered, looking down at Enjolras on the floor from his position in the chair.

"I, for one, am going to finish this chapter," Enjolras huffed. "You may sleep if you like."

Grantaire opened his mouth to object, but only rolled his eyes, snorting slightly and taking a swig of his wine before flopping back into his chair. "You're a hopeless case, Apollo."

"And don't call me Apollo," Enjolras's voice came from the floor beneath Grantaire and he couldn't help but chuckle a little, taking another gulp of his drink.

"As you wish, Enjolras. So what's that chapter about, anyway? I mean, I know you've read it to us a million times, but what's it really about? I mean, yes, the old king died. But that's been happening for years and years and years… One old geezer gets the throne, kicks the bucket, and another old geezer takes his place. And how do they even decide which geezers take the throne? Oh, I know, it says how someplace in that giant book of yours, but if we're going to be honest, does it really matter? Each king seems as bad as the last, eh, Enjy?" Grantaire paused in his monologue, waiting for his friend to come back with some intellectual response. When no sound came, Grantaire furrowed his brows slightly. "Enjy?" He peered down over the side of his chair at his friend on the floor, and then his face broke into a wide smile. The beautiful young man was leaning back against the side of the chair from his position on the ground, his eyes closed and his breathing soft, looking angelically peaceful and absolutely, deeply asleep, the book dangling limply from his fingertips.

Grantaire snorted softly, reaching down and ruffling the wild blond hair affectionately. "See? That book bored even the great Apollo to sleep." The drunkard watched Enjolras for a moment before sighing deeply, getting to his feet and setting his bottle aside. He then knelt down by his friend, gently taking the book from his fingers and setting it aside with his drink before gingerly scooping Enjolras's sleeping form into his arms, careful not to wake the other man. Enjolras shifted slightly in his sleep, but didn't waken, and Grantaire carefully lowered him into the chair he was just in moments ago, resting the blond head against the arm of the chair and grabbing a blanket from a pile in the corner, draping it over his dozing friend's still form. Enjolras snuggled down slightly into the blanket, a small, sleepy smile crossing his face. It was so adorably childlike…So unlike anything the serious young man would do when awake…That Grantaire couldn't help but chuckle slightly, shaking his head a little and pushing some of the wild blond hair off his friend's forehead.

"You're not that heavy you know, Apollo," he said with a soft smile. "You would have only gotten sore from sleeping on the floor anyway."

With that, Grantaire picked up his bottle from the floor, staggered to the door, and then turned to look at his sleeping friends once more. All the other amis looked rather ridiculous in sleep, some drooling slightly, others snoring like lions. Enjolras, however, remained dignified even in sleep, the firelight making his face look like some kind of marble statue as he breathed evenly, the light falling and rising of his chest the only sign that he was asleep and not dead.

Grantaire smiled slightly to himself before turning and putting on his coat, walking out into the dark night.

And thus is ends! I hope you all liked it! If you did, please tell me in a REVIEW! Thanks!

~Rosey