A/N: Okay, so I received information that this was slightly confusing, this is E and R's first kiss. This takes place before the other one. Sorry for the confusion.

Enjolras didn't drink, he had complete and utter control over that portion of his life, and he very much wanted to keep it that way, so when Courfeyrac handed him a cup full of an undetermined liquid, he knew he was just going to put it down somewhere and watch the proceedings from a corner. What he didn't count on, however, was Grantaire. He'd known Grantaire would be there, of course, so what he really hadn't counted on was Musichetta's friend—Christine, wasn't it?—getting far too close to Grantaire for anyone to be comfortable, Grantaire, however was in the midst of a tirade, and didn't notice her slowly inching closer.

So Enjolras downed the contents of the plastic cup and tossed it in one of the trash cans strategically placed around the apartment. As the night progressed, he hid out on the fire escape—escape here being an extremely accurate word, no matter what he said—in order to get away from the sight of Christine making doe eyes at Grantaire, and the unfamiliar ache that seemed to accompany that. Even out here, though it seemed he couldn't escape from Grantaire, whose voice somehow managed to rise above the music and the other people in order to plague him. He swirled around the remains of his third—fourth?—drink, and decided that this had all been a truly terrible idea. He sighed and sat in the corner of the fire escape, and put the nearly-empty plastic cup in between his feet. He then decided to evaluate his place in the universe. He was making himself miserable, and he knew it, but he didn't quite know how to stop that. So, he didn't.

After a few minutes of staring alternately at the alley behind Courfeyrac's building and the smog-filled sky above it, the window leading out to where he sat opened again.

"Oh," came Grantaire's voice, "um," Enjolras looked at him, as he blustered and attempted to complete his sentence. He gestured to the empty space beside Enjolras. "Is this seat taken?"

Enjolras shook his head, ignoring the way his chest constricted when Grantaire sat down beside him.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Grantaire asked, as the silence between them grew all-consuming. Enjolras moved his cup to his side and turned to face Grantaire with his legs crossed and his elbows resting on his knees.

"Do you ever wonder if it's worth it? Fighting, I mean." Grantaire continued to look confused. "Think about it, no matter what we do or say, humans will always find reasons to hate each other, and ways to show it. There will always be crime, no matter how hard we try to stop it, and no matter how much we hate it, there will always, without fail, be pretentious fucks who think they're the center of the universe. There are just days when I wonder… even when if we fight it, and manage to win, will it matter in the long run? Or is this," he gestured outward, to the outline of downtown, "the basic nature of humanity? To be assholes who put each other down to climb an imaginary social ladder?"

Grantaire nodded, "a year ago, I would've agreed with every last thing you said, and added to your little rant. But, since I've met you all, I've seen some pretty amazing things happen. You raised money for a charity by shouting, Enjolras, you make people care. Everyone here is capable of bringing out the best in humanity. And, fuck yeah, there's still a hella long way to go, but if I could bet on one person, in history, who could change the world for the better, it'd be you, Apollo."

"Even up against someone like Ghandi?"

"Ghandi wouldn't stand a chance." R stiffened as Enjolras smiled at him, but managed a wary smile back, almost like he couldn't believe Enjolras was smiling at him. Before Enjolras could properly think about what he was doing, he'd pushed himself to his knees and leaned closer to Grantaire. Enjolras took a moment to memorize the curve of Grantaire's mouth before he leaned down to kiss him.

Kissing Grantaire was nothing like he thought it would be, and he realized now that he had thought about it. Extensively at times and, oh, it was so much better in real life. Especially now that R was kissing him back, was kissing Enjolras like he'd planned it, and his hands couldn't seem to decide between tangling themselves in Enjolras' hair and wrapping around his neck. Enjolras slid his tongue across Grantaire's bottom lip and R responded by taking Enjolras' and biting it gently. When Enjolras pulled away, it was purely because he had no more air in his lungs and he didn't much fancy passing out in the middle of their first kiss.

"Grantaire?" Came a decidedly feminine voice, and reality came crashing around Enjolras' ears. Enjolras stiffened and Grantaire could feel him retreating, pulling back into his shell, where no emotions would surface for days, but he'd end up feeding the homeless by working triple overtime at a soup kitchen until he passed out on his and Combeferre's couch from overexertion, where he'd stay for the next two days because 'Ferre wouldn't let him move until he was sure Enjolras wasn't going to pass out by walking up the stairs, and no! Grantaire just wanted to go back to thirty seconds ago, when he'd been almost certain that Enjolras reciprocated his feelings, but then Enjolras pulled away and seemed to shrink into his corner of the fire escape.

"You should go." He croaked. "People are waiting for you." And Grantaire knew that there was no going back, and if he drank to forget, if he woke up the next morning with a woman he hardly knew and a pounding in his head, and the world weighing slightly more heavily on his chest, for reasons he couldn't remember, who would be surprised?

And if Enjolras went home and woke up the next morning thinking, 'God, what happened last night?' And, 'what does Courf put in those drinks of his?' (Because if Enjolras is anything, it's a truly terrible drunk,) but with a new, inexplicable, understanding of his feelings for Grantaire, who'd be surprised at that, either?