A/N: This next chapter is a few drabbles showing what took places over the next couple of weeks. It was meant to be fluffy all the way through, but I fail at fluff so you'll have to make do with this I'm afraid.
Courfeyrac read over the tender again as he waited for Grantaire.
"These questions are bloody stupid," he complained to Combeferre, who had stopped to read the sheets over his shoulder on his way through the cafe. "All they're doing is asking the same thing over and over again."
"Well they are aimed at people who haven't been running the Shed for the past eighteen months," Combeferre pointed out, using their (occasionally) affectionate nickname for the fifty year old cafe situated in the middle of the town's park. "Of course your answers will be different, you know everything there is to know about the place and already have staff who are qualified to work there. Other people applying may not."
"It's a shithole," the cafe owner said bluntly. "The only way to make the blessed thing make money is to knock it down and start again, only the council will never agree to that and are too stupid to listen when I tried to explain why it won't make as much money as they want it to."
"This time last year you wanted rid of it," Combeferre reminded him.
"Yes, but if someone else takes it on then it's competition. Besides, it's bad form if I don't apply, what with me owning this place and all that. The council are very big on local business."
"You'll lose money again," he warned absentmindedly, watching Grantaire rush in. "I wonder what's happened." His question was answered when Grantaire dropped into the chair next to Courfeyrac, bag abandoned on the floor.
"Sorry I'm late, I hit traffic on my way over," he gasped, taking deep breaths to try and replace the oxygen he'd used up in his mad dash. "You said it was urgent?"
"I need you to redesign the Castle Grounds cafe."
Grantaire stared at him in shock, not checking the papers Courfeyrac had just slid over to him.
"Are you fucking insane?" he demanded loudly, making both other men thankful there were currently no other customers in the cafe. "Jesus Courf, I'm an artist, not an architect!"
"You know the place and you know what people want. You're good at talking to people. Look, all I need for now is your agreement. Then, once it's open again next week (and God knows they need to get more organised with when they put their businesses up for tender, because a week before it reopens for summer is just a terriible idea) and we hopefully have customers, you can drink as much coffee as you like whilst chatting to said customers about what they'd like to have. Then it can be redesigned next winter. And no, I can't knock it down and start again. I just need to be able to tell the council I have some sort of future plan for the place." Courfeyrac paused finally, noticing the panicked look in Grantaire's eyes. "Of course you will be payed for all hours spent doing this, and you will have my undying gratitude."
"This will go badly wrong," the artist groaned, rubbing at his face tiredly.
"At least make a plan. What's the worst that could happen? Look at it this way, at least it's a wage." Grantaire glared at Combeferre before swapping his attention back to Courfeyrac as he spoke.
"If you get a job, you don't have to carry on with this. You'd be busy enough then."
"Courf, I don't want to fuck up your cafe..."
"And you won't. I have faith in you. Now, what do you want to drink? And no I will not serve you alcohol at 10am. I quite like having my license thank you very much."
"Enjolras stood in the playground awkwardly, trying to ignore the glances thrown his way by all the mothers standing nearby. He'd already worked out which were single from the way they'd sneaked closer and stared more openly, checking out whether he was wearing a ring then talking louder in the hopes he'd join in the conversation. Noticing the woman approaching, he sighed and pulled his phone out, hoping she'd take the hint.
She didn't.
"Hi!" she greeted him cheerily, giving him a flirty smile. "I don't believe I've seen you here before."
"That's because I haven't been here before," he said bluntly, turning back to his phone.
"I'm Rebekah, but you can call me Bex. Mike's mum." She waited patiently until he finally sighed again and glanced up, realising she wasn't going to give in.
"Enjolras," he offered up reluctantly. "My daughter's Alana."
"That explains everything. You only moved into town a couple of months ago, right?" He nodded, wondering if it'd work if he thought go awayhard enough. "Well if you need any help finding your way round town or anything, just let me know. I'd be more than willing to give you a hand."
The bark of laughter made them both jump.
"He lived in this town while in university and only lived twenty miles outside it when a child, Becca, I hardly think he needs your help," Grantaire pointed out as he joined the pair, still trying not to laugh. "The town hasn't changed that much in the past five years."
"Oh." The look of disappointment on her face was far too strong for someone who'd only just met Enjolras. "Well, I'll see you round then. You too, Grantaire." And with that she backed away to join the other parents.
"You are possibly the most exciting thing to happen to this nursery for the parents in the past ten years," Grantaire teased, laughing at the blush now covering Enjolras's face. "Loving the text by the way. Did you just ask me to save you, or should I be expecting Combeferre or Courf or someone to ride up to be your knight in shining armour as well?"
"Oh shut up," Enjolras mumbled.
"I'm hurt - and after I saved you from attack by a pack of ravenous mothers as well. Because I should warn you, those four over there were getting ready to pounce. You don't get so many single young men showing up in this town." Especially not with your looks, he added silently.
Just then, the nursery door opened and all the mothers surged forwards to pick up their children, many stopping for a quick chat to the teacher on the way. Enjolras hung back with Grantaire until the mass had mostly dispursed, only then daring to approach the building. Grantaire followed, not giving up on the teasing, but backed away again when the teacher started talking to Enjolras.
"Ah, you must be Alana's father. You look just like her." The teacher smiled at Enjolras kindly as she turned and called for the girl. "I'm Miss Robson, she'll be in my class next year as well if you keep her at the school."
"That was the plan," he confirmed. "I'm hoping to be able to stay in town until she's finished school - well, at least primary. Easier on her then."
"I'll bet your fiance won't want to be moving around too much either." The sentence was very matter of fact and took Enjolras completely by surprise.
"Fiance?" he said dumbly, not noticing the look of complete horror present on Grantaire's face.
"Cosette. You mean you two aren't...?" She trailed off when Enjolras slowly shook his head. "Oh. I'm... really sorry, I honestly thought, what with Cosette picking Alana up every evening and dropping her off every morning, and the engagement ring, and how Alana and Cosette really do look similar... " She sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
"It's fine, forget it." Enjolras smiled slightly. "Cosette is just a good friend, who's engaged to another friend of mine. She offered to bring Allie to nursery and back because of my work hours. It's an easy mistake to make."
"She had me scared for a moment," Grantaire sighed once they were leaving the playground, Alana swinging on Enjolras's arm and babbling away about her day.
"What, you actually thought I was engaged?" Enjolras laughed. "Hell no. I'm not the marriage type. Well, maybe with the right person, but even then I'd have to be sure." He glanced over at his friend, taking in the relief in his eyes. "Seriously, 'Taire, I thought you knew me better than that! If I were engaged, I wouldn't have kept it quiet from all of you. Hell, you'd be best man."
"I gotta go," Grantaire mumbled, leaving then without saying goodbye. Enjolras stared after him and sighed.
"One day I will manage not to screw up when talking to him," he muttered.
"Daddy, can we please go to the park now?" Alana repeated louder, tugging on his arm.
"Course we can sweetie." Picking her up, he hugged his daughter to him tightly as he walked the last two streets to the local park, trying to forget the look that had flashed across Grantaire's face at his last comment - a look of complete despair that threatened to drag Enjolras down with it.
"Aw shit!" Grantaire groaned when it started raining heavily, getting soaked within seconds. "I fucking hate the weather in this town," he muttered darkly, hating the sun which had made him choose against a jacket that morning. He ran as fast as he could towards the nearest coffee shop, shaking his head like a dog once inside, not caring that the rain scattering from his hair was hitting customers all around him.
"And I'll have an Americano with hazelnut syrup to go with the Mocha," he heard a familiar voice say, looking over at the counter to see Enjolras standing there, paying for his drinks. "That is, if you still drink that." Moments later, it clicked that the blonde was talking to him and Grantaire nodded dumbly in reply. "That's everything then." Setting the drinks down on a free table, Enjolras smirked at his friend. "Wow, can that t-shirt actually stick to you any more than it currently is doing? You're giving all the women in here a show." Grantaire blushed and grinned, but didn't argue when Enjolras shrugged off his coat and held it out, pulling it on silently.
"Thanks," he mumbled, dropping down into a chair.
"So how've you been? I haven't seen you since that day at the nursery. Speaking of which, I meant that thing about you being my best man as you being on of my best friends, not in whichever way you took it."
"Just forget about it, okay? I overreacted, no big deal." Grantaire shrugged. "End of."
"Okay then. So... how have you been?"
"Good. Helping Courf with his plans for the Shed - that's his second small cafe by the way - and trying to find a new job. How's work?"
"Great! Hacker's getting me to help him with the speech writing for stuff, and I'm being allowed to sit in on all meetings and the like, and-" Grantaire smiled and leant back as Enjolras carried on enthusing about his job, simply enjoying listening to the passion in his voice.
"Sounds like you're really enjoying it," he commented when Enjolras paused for breath.
"Yeah," laughed Enjolras quietly. "Sorry, didn't mean to go on like that."
"It's fine, I don't mind. So what's happening that I should be aware of politics wise? Because you've been home well over two months now and I still haven't heard a single speech from you about how the people running the country need to be stopped for some reason or another."
"Gay marriage," his friend said firmly, voice taking on the tone Grantaire loved as he continued speaking. "The fact that anyone could oppose it is wrong, and the fact that the new pope is so bigotted as to say it is the machinations of the devil? Bloody ridiculous! Someone has to stand up against him and this before it goes too far. The Queen says she is for this, but last time she was against it and publically so."
"Sirs, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to quieten down."
The pair blinked in surprise at the interruption, looking up at the barista.
"Of course. Sorry," Grantaire apologised when it became obvious that Enjolras wasn't going to. Glancing at each other, they couldn't help but burst out laughing as he walked away.
"I feel like a teenager again," Enjolras gasped, grinning widely. "It's been years since I got told off for being too noisy in a cafe or public place."
"It was never quite the same without you," Grantaire informed him. "We got told off for indecent public behaviour, not for making radical political speeches standing on the tables inciting the other customers to revolution."
"It was fun back then," the blonde admitted, a wistful look crossing his face. Just then, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out, sighing as he read the text. "And that's my cue to leave. Work calls, sadly."
"I'll see you around then."
"Yeah. I'll text you, okay?"
"Great." Grantaire managed to wait until Enjolras had left before breaking out into a grin. It wasn't a date as such, but it was close enough for him.
"Is there a reason why my living room has become a dress shop?" Enjolras asked as he entered the room and looked round at the dresses and fabrics on every surface, clearly amused.
"Daddy!" Alana squealed, pulling away from Musichetta to throw herself into her father's arms, Musichetta clucking disapprovingly as Enjolras scooped her up. "Look at my dress!"
"Gorgeous," he smiled, kissing her hair.
"Crease that and you can explain to Cosette why the father of her flower girl is dead or maimed," Musichetta threatened idly, taking Alana from him and placing her back on the stool in the centre of the room. "Now stay still miss, unless you want to be stabbed by a pin again," she warned. Enjolras moved over to sit in front of her, holding her hands to effectively stop the four-year-old from fidgeting.
"You still haven't answered my question," Enjolras said after a few minutes of silence.
"Courfeyrac threw us out of Cosette's. Something about us not being allowed to know his plans for the stag night. We decided we didn't want to know and left willingly. Also we didn't know long we'd be until we were finished, and here we can just put Alana to bed when it's time."
"Plus watching the football at home for the next few hours seemed unbearable," Cosette commented as she swept into the lounge. "So. How do I look?"
"Wow," Enjolras murmured, looking her up and down. "It's amazing. You look beautiful - Marius is a very lucky man."
"And doesn't he know it," Musichetta laughed, poking Enjolras until he stood and moved out of her way. "It doesn't look like much needs changing - how does it feel?"
"Perfect," the blonde beamed, eyes sparkling with excitement for the date drawing ever nearer. As Musichetta made one final adjustment before helping Alana out of her dress, Enjolras grinned back at Cosette and grabbed her hands, impulsively spinning her round in a circle in time to the song starting on the radio. She threw her head back and laughed, keeping tight hold so she couldn't fall.
"Well someone's happy," Grantaire said softly from the doorway, watching them with an almost sad smile on his lips. "Courf says to tell you you're free to go home now."
"And you decided to come instead of ringing," Cosette said knowingly, only just stopping her eyes from flicking to Enjolras.
"I have to see the dressmaker. Apparently my suit has to fit perfectly, or else."
"Well he's right." Cosette kissed Grantaire's cheek on her way back out of the room to change back into her normal jeans and t-shirt, Alana trailing behind.
"So, uh, thanks for the coffee last week," Grantaire said finally, managing to meet Enjolras's eyes. "It was nice to be able to just relax and chat."
"Anytime," Enjolras replied, smiling at him. "Tell you what, want to meet up again this coming week? A break from everything could be good." He felt his smile widen as Grantaire's eyes lit up slightly, though the other man did his best to be neutral about it.
"Yeah, sure."
"Monday afternoon?"
"It's a date." Grantaire's eyes widened suddenly when he realised what he's said and the artist quickly tried to backtrack. "I mean, not a date date, obviously, I just meant that that sounds like a perfect time and oh look Musichetta wants me to try my suit on I'll see you on Monday then!" The dark-haired man shot past Enjolras to where Musichetta was chuckling quietly at them both in the corner, cheeks burning furiously. Enjolras watched him for a moment until Grantaire started to strip.
Enjolras couldn't remember the last time he'd left a room so fast.