Title: To Love Another Person Is To See The Face Of God
Author: Reno
Fandom: Les Misérables
Setting: The Musain, Grantaire's apartment
Pairing: Grantaire/Enjolras
Characters: Grantaire, Enjolras
Genre: Romance
Rating: K
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 1544
Type Of Work: One-shot
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Alcoholism, There's Only One Bed, Because Grantaire keeps his guest room locked for no reason, Cuddling, Fluff, Enjolras is enraged at and in awe of Grantaire's feelings for him
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: Grantaire was a confusing man in his simplicity.
AN: Hey guys, it's me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunnywritings, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it's here: /FyaWw25
I have fanfic requests up on my tumblr! Link Here: post/633894090732421120/requests-open
I am still so into this fandom that it hurts me. I'm glad to have found a new thing to be passionate about, it helps me to keep sane sometimes. I hope that you guys enjoy! I know I sure am.
To Love Another Person Is To See The Face Of God
Grantaire was lucky he wasn't blind, with how much he stared at the Sun. Enjolras shone brightly when he spoke, the radiance of a thousand suns bursting from his chest as he told the people of his hopes for the future. Of his war, of his need to fight for the right as one with his friends. It struck Grantaire as odd so many times that he didn't think he could change things just by becoming a lawyer. His money, it could go much further for people than dying for something he wasn't even a part of.
Even now, the cafe was nearly empty, but Enjolras' chest was full of breath and his mind was working a thousand kilometers a minute. His words were no less impassioned than usual, and Grantaire could do little more than stare and sip at his bottle. The blond stood upon a table, the one Grantaire had taken up at the beginning of the night, and he hadn't even noticed the sketches blossoming on the pages that the brunet had been filling. His hands, his neck, his hair, those beautiful lips… It amazed him how Enjolras couldn't seem to fathom his feelings.
The lights began to dim, a warning Grantaire knew well, and he stumbled to his feet. Putting his things away in his bag, he looked up at the splayed fingers nearly in his face as Enjolras continued his tirade, and his brain short-circuited. Seconds away from holding his hand, feeling the warm flesh against his own clammy skin sounded like the best option. His hand shot out with the accuracy of a man drowning in an empty bottle of wine, and he paused, realizing he had taken Enjolras' forearm. The speech stopped abruptly, and those intense, icy eyes turned on him filled with fury and passion, and Grantaire's lips quirked up into a love-drunk smile.
"R?" Enjolras asked, confusion written in the furrowing of his brow. Required to give an answer, Grantaire tripped over every word he'd ever known, every word he'd ever read, his stammering only sending those brows lower, like dark curtains blotting out a bright blue sky. It had been a solid minute and he still hadn't said much at all, certainly nothing of substance, before the only thing he could seem to grab hold of finally left his lips.
"I can't sleep without you."
The strangeness of the sentence was only punctuated by the bated breath from the artist, whose smile faltered but for a second under Enjolras' seemingly enraged gaze. They had never once slept together, platonic or otherwise, and Enjolras swam in a sea of confusion. Lost in the clear debate going on in the other's eyes, Grantaire hardly heard him speak.
"You're drunk." The statement came out breathless, something he hoped would deter Grantaire from whatever he was going on about. As expected, it didn't.
"You're beautiful, as long as we're pointing out the obvious." Grantaire's smug smile didn't fall, even as the corner of Enjorlas' right eye twitched.
"Do you need me to make sure you get home?" He asked through gritted teeth, and Grantaire's smile melted into that love-drunk expression once more. Nodding emphatically until he was positive the room was spinning and not his head, he gave a soft 'yes' that sounded more like a plea than an answer.
The plan, half-baked as it may have been, forming in Grantaire's head made him stumble, and finally, Enjolras left his spot high on the table. Jumping down beside his friend, he sighed, shaking his head of golden curls before taking Grantaire's hand. The brunet had been right; the fire burning within Enjolras' heart reached his hands and left him feeling like putty, warm, and malleable.
Down the stairs and through the streets, the evening air didn't even phase him as they walked. Grantaire could feel the wind in his hair, but his curls blowing by his own face didn't even touch him. It was the way the wind wound through those tight golden curls, the streetlights casting a halo of light around his head with each one past, that held his attention. They made it to his apartment in two minutes flat, and Grantaire was prompted twice to fish his keys from his pocket before he realized Enjolras had dropped his hand.
"Huh?" He finally asked, knowing that Enjolras had been speaking but his words were lost to the times.
"Inside. Unlock the door." Whatever he had said before was probably more well-worded than the barked order, but Grantaire searched his pockets for his keys regardless. As they walked the stairs to his studio suite at the top of the building, he dug around in his front pockets for the keys to his apartment. At the door, it was still a solid minute of fumbling before Enjolras snatched the keys from his hand. Grantaire bemoaned the swift arrival and departure of the warmth he craved despite the summer heat, but he let Enjolras unlock the door and let them inside without a word.
The first floor of his suite was simple, canvases and paints and tarps spread throughout the foyer. Around a corner lay a simple bathroom and a guest room that the drunk kept locked with a bed neatly made and dusty behind the door. Dropping the keys to the table beside the door with a light clink of metal, Enjolras sighed softly. His fate was sealed as they walked deeper into the apartment and took them up a small staircase to the loft that Grantaire had settled his large, comfortable bed in. It remained unmade, his blankets twisted and half off the bed where he'd left them that morning when he'd finally climbed out of it to greet the day with a hangover. Just a typical morning for him, really.
"Do you even take care of yourself?" Enjolras wondered aloud, but the only thing Grantaire heard was the soft whisper of his voice. He tugged Enjolras to the bed, half-hoping he would think he still needed his help to walk. Falling into bed unceremoniously, he reached out both hands to grip the other's wrist, and that pleading look entered his green eyes once more.
"Stay the night?" He asked, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. Enjolras was equal parts indignant and resigned to his fate as he rolled his eyes and shook his hand free of the other's grasp.
"Fine, fine. I'll stay." He managed, "But I'm going to take off your boots, at least."
"Okay." The dumb-struck smile on his face as he leaned back into his bed was all Enjolras could see as he stepped to the foot of it. Unlacing the other's boots and tugging them off, he placed them neatly at the end of the bed before bending at the waist to remove his own. Grantaire would be lying if he said he wasn't enraptured by the motion, his eyes staring at that no-doubt plump rear and dragging like a physical press to the finessed movements of his fingers as they untied his own boots. With his joining Grantaire's at the foot of the bed, he crossed to the other side of it and sat down.
The unfortunate thing about Grantaire being a bachelor, and likely also a college student, meant that there was only one pillow. Enjolras had half a mind to figure out which key unlocked the guest room. He would be tempted to stay in that room over grabbing the pillow and returning to Grantaire, but he would put real money on the fact that the other wouldn't notice until the morning.
Instead, he laid down beside his friend, closing his eyes as he fought to get the blanket smoothed out over them. At first, he was convinced he would sleep with his back to Grantaire, his arm beneath his head, but that didn't seem to be the grand idea that the other man had had. No, he found the pillow knocked against his head, and he lifted it without thinking, only to feel a warm arm wrapping around his waist and a firm torso pressed into his back.
"May I help you?" Enjolras said it with all the bravado one would expect, but Grantaire merely pressed his nose to the curls at the base of his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin there.
"It's better like this." Grantaire murmured, and his breath fanned over Enjolras' nape, sending an involuntary shudder through the blond. With a frustrated sigh, he settled a little, conceding to his fate as his right knee slipped more to the bed as he angled his hips away. Grantaire took the assumed invitation and slotted himself up against him, tangling their legs together. It was a true lover's embrace, and, despite himself, Enjolras was enjoying the closeness and warmth.
It wasn't long before he felt the other's tight hold of his middle go lax and a soft snore left the drunk man behind him. Now, it just seemed, that he would need to silence his mind and try to sleep, as well. Who knew when they would wake up, but he wasn't so concerned with making his classes in the morning. He had a war to plan, so him being missing for a day wouldn't be so odd to anyone except his parents.
AN: Welp, this was actually the first Enjoltaire fic that I had started, but I didn't get around to finishing it for a few days. I keep pecking at several fics in a row to try and keep myself writing just anything at all. I hope that you guys enjoyed this!
Prompt: "I can't sleep without you."