You were supposed to work on a minor art project for your school, and to be honest, all you had produced, returned to get naked, and try to climb over a wall with butter (contemporary art, haha! This joke).

You were sitting cross-legged in your living room back to the sofa, surrounded by paint tubes (because the paint is the base), the shirt of your best friend on you (why buy more clothes when he can do laundry) and a blur bun, finished with a paintbrush at the top of the head. Surrounding you were leaves covered essays, drawings. You had two days to make a project on "object design". And of course, turning the wave of Hokusai into a sofa, it's not a pretty good idea (actually, though, as a student, you didn't have the means to buy Hokusai, or even buy some things, maybe you could buy the Greek art section of the Louvre though).

Pondering the pros and cons to plucking your legs (sometimes the pain helps you get ideas, rug wax hair, perhaps?), You hear a noise in your lock behind you, and your roommate/best friend/crush enters to the apartment. Enjolras put his bag next to the entrance, before leaning over your shoulder and giving you a sweet peck on the cheek. He was returning from another political rally at school, and he was still all pink cheeks, bright eyes, and dishevelled hair.

"So how's it going?" he asked, giving you a once over.

"It fell instead. How was it today? There was Marcus and Grantaire?" you wondered, thinking about his just as enthusiastic friends.

He sat on the couch, and stooped to pick up some of your "works". Turning some leaves (yes, that one was supposed to be upside down), he tried to cheer you up.

"It was pretty good, there were many people, we distributed leaflets, and we were kicked out of the public square by Javert (a supervisor). But that does not change much, there will be another meeting next week, do you want to come?" he asked, looking at you eagerly.

"To see you throw yourself into the crowd like a rock star, never!" you chuckled, shaking your head at him, (you couldn't deny he was very cute when he got carried away about politics).

The Watching him spin your artwork, the leaves, around, you have felt the frustration mounting in you, and sent him flying all around the room, collapsing dramatically to the ground.

"Okay I give up! I never could finish this project on time! All it remains is for me to put myself on a cross and await my punishment! Executioner, to your office!" you cried out dramatically, because really the stress was getting too much.

Enjolras looked at you with an amused smile, began to undress, took a pineapple lamp (because yes, we have a pineapple lamp in our living room) and spread himself out in front of you by placing the lamp before him.

"Draw me like on of your French girl!" he teased, eyes twinkling mischeviously.

He was staring at you, literally falling bugue; with a small smirk and a wink. He grabbed a brush with his toes and handed it to you. You take it gently with a sheet, some red, and start to paint it (you never know, sometimes it takes you to see something, maybe a lamppost or a Greek heroic nude, to notice the beauty of the thing).

P.D.V. Enjolras

I watched (Y/N) gradually working her painting, her eyes plunged into space, a few strands falling on her forehead. She tended to gently bite her lower lip unconsciously in all her concentration.

I had only one desire, to throw off the pineapple, and go kiss her, pull her to meet me on my knees, as close as we could possibly get to each other. Dig into the heat of her throat, maybe, let run my hands along her ribs and go lower gradually.

I was interrupted in my thoughts when I saw her bend over to grab another color, then another, follow the contour of the fingers of her work.

**** Small transition, because I'm really anywhere to write his views ****

P.D.V. Normal

He had posed for nearly two hours now, and you ended up working on socks worthy adornment in Avatar (and when you say that, you think that of Tsu'tey, you know, the red horned) and the rest of its superb individual was to serve as support.

You noticed that you were transfixed during this session on his pose, you felt altogether awkward at first. That said, you looked at him too, so let's say it's equal. You had almost finished working, the only remaining work was at the bottom.

You start to ask him what he felt about your "work" while storing your colors away, when suddenly he stood up, reached out to grab your elbow, and pulled you close to him. His hands rested gently on your side, your face a few centimeters from his. He watched for a few seconds, before finally asking for your permission before he kissed you softly. It really was a contrast with the idea that you had of him, you expect it to be hot, rough, like his public character. It was just the opposite in fact, it was sweet, moving his lips against yours, before gently follow the curve of your jaw. He gently grabbed the hem of your (his) shirt, his hands skimming your side before pulling it over your head.

**** New transition, but a week after ****

You run through the hallways, swerving and sliding between the students currently on their way to the output (Hello, Monsieur Javert, beautiful day, huh! No, no, I'm not running in the hallways). Arriving outside, you saw Enjolras and Marius stood among the other students.

They had reached the end of their speeches and had begun to distribute leaflets when Enjolras caught your eye and smiled widely.

He jumped from the platform, pushing through the crowd to get to you, and picked you up before you sigh gently into his kiss (Is it a sigh of disappointment, ladies, I mean really?)

"Is there a reason for that Javert racing after you like that?" he said close to your ear.

"I thought it would make you happy to see me challenge authority; especially his. Joking apart, I just received my note for Design class" you told him excitedly.

"Hmm?" he whispered, his hands on your waist, while yours were on his neck.

"A B+, but yet I do not know, whether it is socks or because of you."

"Who is your teacher, again?"

"Valjean."

"So it's totally for socks."

Hopefully Grantaire does not stumble upon it, he will totally love it, maybe steal it and use if for your next banner. And I much prefer to keep this show to myself" you flirted, grinning widely.

He chuckled against your throat, before grabbing your hand and leading you quietly to the apartment. And needless to say that you have inaugurated the tradition of wearing and including socks in all situations: drawings, sex, crockery, sex, sleep, and laundry.