Hey guys! Right then, as I said I am on hols ATM but here you are. My Aunt died today so you may not hear from me for a bit or my may make myself feel better the only way I know how ... Writing

Chapter 4

Enjolras hurriedly applied his disguise and slipped out of the office for his coffee meeting with Grantaire. He walked with a strange skip in his step that usually only accompanied a political conquest. This was new to Enjolras; he had never felt in love, lusted after anyone or ever been on a date. For the whole of school everyone just assumed he was asexual. And of course he did nothing to prove those speculations wrong. Yet even after the certainty that Grantaire liked, maybe loved, Rene...fear still lingered in his heart; what if Grantaire saw through his disguise and hated him for it? He would never be able to cope with the rejection. That was one of Enjolras' only fears; that and failure. And then to have to see the man in question nearly every day for interviews would just be hell.

Before he knew it, Enjolras was stood outside the Cafe Musain, the coffee shop both Enjolras and Rene frequented regularly. He took a deep breath to steel himself and pushed the door open. Grantaire was sat in the corner booth nursing a mug of strong black coffee. Enjolras' lips curled into a genuine smile when Grantaire's face lit up at the sight of him. He ordered his normal vanilla latte and sunk into the booth opposite Grantaire. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show," Grantaire grinned and Enjolras sighed.
"Sorry, I was held up at work," he apologised, sipping his coffee.
"Where do you work Rene?" Grantaire enquired, tilting his head slightly with the question. Enjolras loved how he did that; he noticed he did it in interviews when he was actually interested in the answer you were going to give him; Grantaire was so open with his body language and emotions. It was nice to see that after a long morning dealing with politicians.
"I am assistant to the French ambassador in England," he smiled as Grantaire's eyebrows raised.
"I certainly didn't expect that, library boy," he chuckled and Enjolras rolled his eyes.
"I met your brother yesterday," he added off handedly.
"Lucien?" Enjolras questioned, even though he knew full well it was Combeferre.
"I was interviewing Enjolras and the conversation turned to you," he admitted with an adorable little blush.
"Please don't say it turned embarrassing," Enjolras chuckled, finally at ease with this role.
"Oh no! It was quite complimentary really," he winked with the blush spreading over his nose. In none of his interviews had he ever seen Grantaire blush. It was quite beautiful. He was open in interviews with his expression but you could tell it was fake if you saw him really smile out of his career. When he smiled, his whole face lit up and you found yourself unable to stop your own lips curl into a full smile in response.

They talked about nothing and everything for hours until Grantaire finally had to leave. "Sorry Rene but duty calls, I've got a press conference with your friend Enjolras in five minutes," Grantaire smiled and stood up downing his coffee in one long gulp. Enjolras' heart stopped in panic. He had completely forgotten about that conference; he couldn't be late or come in wearing these clothes. Grantaire was observant, he would definitely notice if anything was off. Grantaire's smile faltered slightly and he slowly pushed his hands into his pockets. "I was wondering, would you like-like to come to mine tomorrow night. My roommate is baking homemade pizzas and she always makes too much," he stuttered and his ears turned a light pink, causing some of Enjolras' fear to ebb away. Grantaire was asking him on a date to meet his roommate.
"Is that a date?" Enjolras asked, trying to mask his giddy anticipation with confidence.
"If you want it to be," Grantaire mumbled the fear of rejection showing in his posture.
"I would love to go on a date with you Nicolas," he smiled as Grantaire's shoulders instantly loosened and he let out a deep breath. Grantaire scribbled his address and phone number down on a napkin and left with a spring in his step.

Enjolras sat there for a minute or so in a joyous daze before the glint of the metal hands of the clock caught his eye. He had two minutes. Two minutes to run across town, wash temporary dye out of his hair, take off the make up, get changed and get to the conference. Not going to happen. But he had to attempt anyway. Enjolras jumped out of his seat. After the sprint, sweat poured down his face and the black, very temporary hair dye was dripping of the tips of his golden curls. Thankfully no one was on the back stairs or he would have some very big things to explain to his staff. He was already two minutes late when he arrived at his bathroom to wash and change. That took another five minutes and he arrived at the conference room with dripping hair and panting. Combeferre was stood outside the door with that little smug smile on his face. "Nice for you to join us sir. How was your date?" he asked while Enjolras was desperately trying to calm his racing heart.
"It was not a date 'Ferre, and I am late," he stated grumpily.
"I moved your conference back a quarter of an hour, thought you might get carried away. So you have eight minutes to go find a hairdryer," he stated with that smug smile growing.
"You wonderful bastard," Enjolras hissed, attempting to dry his hair with a towel.

Eight minutes later, Enjolras was calm and composed for his press conference. His heart was beating its regular rhythm and his hair was finally tamed. Combeferre was stood at the door, nice again, as Enjolras cast him a scowl. "I still hate you," he stated while straightening his suit.
"No you don't," Combeferre replied, not looking up from his tablet. Enjolras sighed, Combeferre was right...as always. He sent another glare at his assistant before walking out of the frying pan into the fire. The world's presses were gathered for the French view on the European economy faltering. Some global newspapers had been touring Europe getting each country's opinion on the issue. French would be judged on whatever he said; and the man that got him hot and flustered was on the front row. Enjolras took deep breaths as he mounted the stage in front of the crazed horde. He should have tied Grantaire up, stopped him from coming. Enjolras cursed himself for not thinking of that sooner. He took a final breath as the room quieted down for him to speak. "After much deliberation with members of my council and advisors, I have come to the conclusion that France will help any other European Union country that needs financial assistance but not if it effects the stability of our nation," he stated and the room was in uproar with questions. Combeferre quieted them but one person spoke out.
"And whose decision is it as to when it affects our stability? When you can't have a new mansion? Or when the homeless rates rise?" Grantaire asked, leaning smugly back on his chair.

Enjolras froze while he collected himself. His heart rate raced and he could feel the heat rushing to his face. "It will be when we decided it to be. When the taxes have to be increased and benefits lowered we will stop until the economy is strengthened once more. I am in favour of helping our fellow nations but Patria must come before all else. Thank you," he finished, stepping down from the podium and trying to hurry out without looking suspicious. He needed to be able to keep his head in front of Grantaire or he would surely suspect something was off.