A/N: It's the giant Footloose reference you've all been waiting for! :D

*squee*
I don't own Les Mis or Footloose!
*squee*

Previously:

As Enjolras rushed away, the poet elbowed the artist. "Are you going to go after him?"

Grantaire quizzically peered over at his friend. "What?"

"Our friends just made apparent what was going to be an issue sooner or later. You need to tell him." He gestured to where Enjolras' form was disappearing in the distance.

Grantaire gasped, and pressed a kiss to the top of the poet's head. "Thanks, Jehan."

The cynic took off after the revolutionary he loved.

Enjolras leaned on the edge of a bridge.

He stared blankly at the water, trying to sort through his emotions.

So caught up in thought was he, that he didn't notice the artist appear at his side. He jumped slightly upon hearing Grantaire hum a tune.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Leaning on his elbows, the artist murmured, "Do you want to tell me what's eating you?"

Sighing, Enjolras bit his lip. "Oh, I'm fine."

Grantaire laid his hand over the blonde's. "No, you're not. I can see it. What's the matter?"

"Something Combeferre said got to me a bit."

"What did he say?"

Enjolras glowered at the artist. "You know damn well. Your fellow choir members asked you the same thing, no doubt."

"Oh," Grantaire thought. "Their interrogation made him uncomfortable." The artist cleared his throat. "I thought we talked about this. Just because they're determined to make a soap opera out of our lives doesn't mean we have to do as they wish."

A ghost of a smile washed over Enjolras' face. "I know. I appreciate that. I really do, but…"

"But, what?"

"Well, you never really asked me how I felt." Enjolras' cobalt eyes flashed up to meet the artist's. "You just act like I'm some delicate flower that needs to be protected at all costs."

Grantaire snorted. "You, a delicate flower? Yeah, and the Pope's atheist."

"Please, be serious. I mean, before this goddamned road trip, you and I were pretty close. And now, since they played 'good cop, bad cop,' half the time you don't talk to me. You don't even look at me."

Grantaire's emotions began to rise. "That's horseshit."

"No, it's not!" The blonde noticed that Grantaire had begun to nervously chew on his nails. "What? Are you afraid, or something? Are you terrified they'll make fun of us? Are you afraid to commit?"

"Enjolras, stop."

"No! What the hell has got you so scared?"

The artist growled in frustration. "I'm scared of losing you, goddammit!"

Enjolras was startled into silence.

"I've screwed a lot of things up in my life," Grantaire continued. "You and me? I don't want to mess this up. You mean more to me than anything. You're all I ever dreamed about. I was afraid that if I moved too fast, I'd push you away. And I…I kind of assumed you'd tell me what you wanted."

Grantaire's fury had ebbed, and now he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

Enjolras rolled his eyes affectionately. "I've been trying. Christ, how many times did we almost kiss?"

"Too many times."

Their eyes met again, and both flushed. "I'm sorry for assuming."

"I'm sorry I wasn't more upfront."

Grantaire grinned. "So, let bygones be bygones? What do you say we give it a fresh start? Try communicating once in a while?"

Enjolras smiled. "Sure." He paused. "You know, since I'm going to be more upfront from now on, I have a question."

"Shoot."

The blonde searched the artist's face, nervously pursing his lips. "Think you might ever kiss me?"

Grantaire stared at Enjolras a moment, determining that the revolutionary was indeed serious. Reaching out, he let his hand just grace the back of the blonde's neck, and leaned in, brushing their lips together.

It was brief, and Grantaire pulled back almost immediately. For a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the shallow, shuddering series of inhales and exhales of the two boys.

Seeing the joy in Enjolras' eyes and the slight upturn of his mouth gave the artist courage, and he brought their mouths together again, harder this time.

The blonde felt his knees grow weak at the sensation he'd been yearning for, and looped his arms around Grantaire's neck.

The brunet's arms snaked up under Enjolras' shoulder blades, serving to support his lover, and bring their bodies closer together.

Eventually, Grantaire whispered, "We should get back."

Enjolras nodded, still using the artist to hold his weight. "Only if you promise to kiss me when we arrive."

"Of course."

Everyone was too busy worrying to notice the lovebirds' return. Well, everyone except Jehan.

"We've ruined it. I just know it," Cosette wailed.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Éponine sighed miserably. "Stop trying to make us feel better, Prouvaire. We should've listened to you."

Combeferre wiped at his eyeglasses. "I just hope this fight isn't too severe."

Jehan put up with several more minutes of his friend's ho-humming, before he hissed, "You're all idiots!"

They became silent as the grave. "Excuse me," Courfeyrac asked, finally.

Jehan merely gestured over their shoulders.

They all turned in unison to see Enjolras and Grantaire slow dancing to a 1980's love ballad, their mouths swollen and red.

Cosette gasped. "Did they…"

She, and the rest of the Amis, got the answer when Grantaire reached up to kiss her brother once more.

The lovers heard the collective sigh of approval rise from their friends, but they couldn't care less. Things had never been smooth sailing for the revolutionary and the cynic, but to Enjolras and Grantaire, this was almost paradise.

A/N: OH MY GOD! THEY FINALLY KISSED! AHHHHHHHHHHH!
Anyway, I know this chapter is really short, really cheesy, and really exposes how much I love "Footloose." I have to complete training for my job in a short amount of time, and I have to prepare to return to college, but I didn't want to leave you hanging. You've stuck with this story diligently, and waited long enough. The story isn't over yet! I love you all very much, and hope you enjoyed! If you did, leave me a review or send me a PM.