The universe was ultimately confused when it came to Grantaire. It would hate him for years on end, and then give him a random stroke of luck. In Grantaire's opinion, that particular day was one of them. He had woken up earlier than he usually did, and had left his bed, taking a quick shower, and immediately going to a large painting he had been working on for a while, after he grabbed an apple from his kitchen, which was quickly eaten and discarded, so as to not accidentally ingest paint. All the good kinds he could find were always toxic… Ah, well, so was the life of Auguste Grantaire.

After that, he had heard a small beep come from his phone, which he had left on the shelf at the corner of his painting room (a.k.a, the spare bedroom). At first he had ignored it, until it had beeped again, and then a few more times. Grantaire sighed, wiping off his green and yellow from paint colored hands with a rag he always kept nearby. He knew one more paint splatter on his phone wouldn't make much of a difference at this point, as the phone had so much paint on it, it legitimately looked like the paint was it's phone cover, but it was good to wipe the paint off his hands before it dried anyway. He opened his phone, seeing that the beeps had been texts, from Combeferre. Grantaire was slightly confused, as Combeferre rarely texted him, but shrugged, opening it.

From, Combeferre: Hi, Grantaire, you know how me and Courfeyrac are going on that trip down to see Courfeyrac's family? Well, we're leaving Enjolras alone, and I fear he's coming down with something. Would you mind going down to check on him?

Grantaire's eyes widened. He could barely fathom Enjolras, the marble man, Apollo, feeling under the weather like a mere mortal. He looked through the other text.

From, Combeferre: He's got a headache, and is nauseous. Oh, he also said his arms and legs were aching. And he's got a slightly elevated temperature of 100.2, I took it while he was sleeping.

From, Combeferre: If you could go over, and take his temperature, also convince him to eat something, that would be nice. And maybe do this for the rest of the two weeks? If it's not too much trouble.

Grantaire snorted. Only Combeferre could sound so formal in a text. He was slightly honored that Combeferre had thought him worthy enough to assist Enjolras, of whom he was notoriously overprotective of, and was still a tiny bit shocked at the fact that Apollo could get sick. He was more delighted than anything, if he was being entirely honest, at a chance to see Enjolras without sounding or acting like a creepy stalker. Even if he really was a creepy stalker.

To, Combeferre: sure thing, apollos in good hands

From, Combeferre: You know he doesn't like it when you call him that.

To, Combeferre: thats why i do it

From, Combeferre: If he's very ill, call me. Courf and I are about 7 hours away, currently, but we can turn around at any time.

To, Combeferre: dont worry i will go over and stop texting keep ur eyes on the road

From, Combeferre: Courfeyrac's driving.

To, Combeferre: in that case. fear for ur life

Grantaire turned his phone off, slipping it into his back pocket, and giving the painting he had been working on a thoughtful look. He could totally finish it later! Probably. Or at least, his chronic procrastination told him that. He went into his bedroom, quickly changing into a shirt with less paint splatters (They all had paint or oil pastels of some form staining them, though). He then grabbed his wallet, which contained his drivers license, that he had somehow managed to keep, heading out the door. He walked down a few floors of his apartment, until he approached the ground floor, to which he left the building entirely from.

He entered his small black car, driving for about 10 minutes before he reached Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras' apartment. Their apartment was notably more fancy and large then Grantaire's was, a nod towards the threes rather wealthy parents. He stepped inside, making his way up the stairs, until he was at the third floor. He walked over to the trio's apartment, fishing his key for it, that Courfeyrac had given him, out of his pockets.

He had been inside the apartment a few times before, at Courfeyrac's request, but he had never been inside of Enjolras' room. He was pretty sure he knew which one it was, and felt a few tendrils of nervousness creeping their way into his heart. What if Enjolras was angry at him for disturbing him in his room? He sucked in a breath, gathering all of his courage, and opened the door.

He quickly took in his surroundings with awe. To any other person, it would have been an ordinary room. But to Grantaire it wasn't. It was Enjolras room. There was a desk in the corner, and a large French flag hanging up on the wall, next to it three signs, that read, "Freedom for all people!" "Free speech advocate." And, "Racial equality needs to happen. Now."

There were newspaper clippings hung up as well, and papers in general were scattered across the room. There were two large bookshelves, and a cluttered desk. It was perfect, to Grantaire at least. Something on the bed caught his attention. And it wasn't the blanket that resembled the French flag. It was the fact that he was pretty sure Enjolras was not that small.

Enjolras was curled up on the bed, clasping his blanket to his chest, and his blonde curls (Funny, Grantaire was sure they were a lot longer then that…) created a halo-like look around him. Grantaire leaned closer to look at Enjolras, and promptly let out a shriek, when he realized something. That wasn't Enjolras in bed. That was a little kid. At his scream, the kid opened his eyes, revealing them to be brilliant sky blue. Blue. Like Enjolras'. But there was no way…?!

"Ah!" The kid yelped at the sight of him, bolting upward in bed. "Who are you?!" He exclaimed, holding his tiny fists up in front of his face in self-defense. Grantaire felt like laughing, despite himself. The kid had to be Enjolras. What other kid would even think about fighting a full-grown man?

"I'm Grantaire, who're you?" Grantaire aked, the kid blinking at him.

"Julien." He said after a few seconds. Julien… Where had Grantaire heard that name from? Oh. Julien. Julien Enjolras. Well, now that was confirmed.

"Um… How old are you Julien?" Enjolras gave him a curious look, holding up a hand, and folding two fingers under, so that three fingers were remaining. Grantaire internally squealed. He was seeing Enjolras. At three. Of course, this also posed a big problem. Of what the heck was going on?!

Okay… Grantaire could take Enjolras to the ER. But no one would believe him there… Joly was out of town, Bosseut and Musichetta with him. Feuilly and Eponine were crazy busy with their jobs… Grantaire refused to ask Marius for assistance… Bahorel. Yes, Bahorel was still in town! He took his phone out of his pocket, calling him. And it went straight to voicemail. Of course.

"Where's maman?" Enjolras suddenly questioned, Grantaire biting his lip, and searching for some sort of answer.

"Uh… She's… Busy." Grantaire hoped that was a suitable responce. It must have been, because Enjolras didn't panic, or cry, or whatever 3-year-olds did. Instead, he just stared at Grantaire, never once breaking eye-contact. Creepy.

"Where's Ferre'?" Enjolras inquired, beginning to lower himself off of the bed. Grantaire instinctively picked him up, placing him safely on the ground. Grantaire knew that Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac had all known each other as children, but he wasn't aware that they had known each other since Enjolras was three.

"He watch me when maman is busy." Enjolras said seriously, and Grantaire was snapped out of his thoughts.

"Combeferre is on a trip." He told him. Enjolras frowned,

"Where's Courf?" He asked.

"Also on a trip," Grantaire answered. Enjolras pouted,

"Without me?" He whimpered. Grantaire gave a small laugh,

"They're coming back soon." He reassured the blonde-haired boy. Which reminded him, he needed to text Combeferre. Of course, Combeferre wouldn't believe him if he said what had happened, and he didn't really want to go through the hassle of convincing him.

To, Combeferre: e is really sick i dont know what to do

Slightly dishonest, but not really that far off the mark, if you thought about it. Only about 10 seconds later, he got a reply.

From, Combeferre: What?! Has he started vomiting?

To, Combeferre: yes

From, Combeferre: Alright, Courf's turning around, we'll be there in about 8 hours. Stay with him until then?

To, Combeferre: sure thing

Grantaire was honestly shocked at the loyalty the Triumvirate (As some had taken to calling the likes of Enj, Courf, and Ferre') held for each other. Being willing to turn around after driving for 8 hours just because someone told you your best friend's ill. Now, he was left to face the reality of the situation. He was supposed to watch a three-year-old, of whom had previously been the man he'd had a crush on for years, for eight hours. He looked around the room for a second, and felt his heart stop. Where was Enjolras?! Had he lost the child within the first 20 minutes of watching him?!

"Enjolras?!" He exclaimed, before realizing that Enjolras probably wouldn't answer to the name "Enjolras" as a kid. "Julien?!" He corrected himself, and he was responded to by a small yelp of acknowledgement from outside of the bedroom. He rushed outside, to see Enjolras casually standing outside the front door, fiddling with the doorknob. Grantaire quickly pulled him back.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He exclaimed, relief flooding through his body. "I took my eyes off of you for one second…"

"Going home. Bye." Enjolras answered, wriggling out of Grantaire's grasp and reaching for the doorknob once more. Grantaire pulled him back once more, and held him close to his chest.

"No, you can't go home, not yet. You need to stay with me." Grantaire ordered, Enjolras literally pouting at him. Had it been any other time, Grantaire would have practically melted at the cuteness. But right now, he needed to get Enjolras away from the door.

"Want to go home, Taire'," Enjolras whined, making a futile effort to pull away from Grantaire's grasp.

"No, you can't go home, yet." Grantaire had no clue where Enjolras had lived when he was younger. "I would take you to my house, but there's too much poisonous paint there." He explained, though he wasn't sure if Enjolras entirely understood any of what he said.

"Paint. I like paint. Ferre' does not, cause' Courf put paint on wall once. Ferre' say it too messy." Enjolras said in a-matter-of-fact voice. Grantaire blinked,

"Okay…" He replied. He then picked Enjolras up, Enjolras deciding to creepily stare at him once more.

"You're tiny, you know?" Grantaire observed, holding Enjolras up so their eyes were meeting. "Like, I get that you're three and all, but you're still awfully tiny for a three-year-old." Enjolras just stared at him, not understanding a word he said, most likely.

"So, why are you Julien, and Combeferre and Courfeyrac are Combeferre and Courfeyrac?" Grantaire asked, hoping to catch Enjolras' attention and distract him from any further escape attempts.

"Because pére says I must be Julien." Enjolras said, like this explained everything. Grantaire sighed, giving Enjolras a firm look over, and frowning. He was still in his favorite red sweater, that he had apparently taken to falling asleep in. Only now, it was way too long.

"I suppose I need to get you new clothes." Grantaire murmured. He briefly considered his options. There was no way he was taking Enjolras out in public, and he didn't have much money anyways, so he couldn't just go out to a store. His best solution was probably to go to Eponine's apartment (She had granted him a key), and see if she had any of Gavroche's old clothes from that age. She had a habit of keeping them around, partially from sentimentality, and partially, as she had put it, "Just in case." Grantaire had been sure not to ask too much about her romance life after that.

"Hey, Julien, c'mon, we're going to go to my car." Grantaire said, Enjolras tilting his head,

"Why?" He asked.

"We need to go to my friends house, to pick up clothes for you." Grantaire explained. Enjolras gave him a horrified look, and crossed his arms,

"No! Ferre' said not ta' go in a car with strangers." Enjolras firmly stated. In his small, squeaky voice, he pronounced "strangers" more as "stwangers." Grantaire face-palmed. Of course Combeferre had already lectured Enjolras on the likes of strangers. That was good, but was anything but convenient to his current situation.

"I'm not a stranger, Apollo, you know me, I'm Grantaire." Grantaire tried.

"Who is 'Pollo?" Enjolras asked Grantaire sighed,

"Never mind, c'mon." He said, picking Enjolras up, and walking into his apartment hallways. When they reached his car, which was old, grey, and rundown, he was faced with yet another dilemma. Weren't kids supposed to be in car seats at his age? Grantaire knew nothing of children, as his sister was older then him, and he had never had much experience with them at all. His solution to this problem was to sit Enjolras in the back seat of the car, and drive carefully, all whilst hoping that no one would report him to Child Protection Services or something.

After ten excruciating minutes, they had reached Eponine's apartment. He had taken Enjolras' up to her floor, and had unlocked her door, finding nobody home. Eponine was most likely at work, and Gavroche and Azelma were most likely at school. He poked around in Gavroche's closet, feeling slightly guilty (And horrified, why did the child have a pickaxe exactly?). He eventually ran into the correct size of clothing, and high-tailed out of there. Enjolras was surprisingly well-behaved during the play of events, able to occupy himself by humming under his breath and counting his fingers.

Once they were back at Enjolras' apartment, Grantaire set him on the floor, checking the time on his phone. It was only 2:00 pm. Combeferre and Courfeyrac wouldn't be back until around 7:00. Leaving him with 5 hours left. Thinking Enjolras must be hungry, Grantaire had given him a tap on the shoulders.

"You hungry?" Grantaire asked, Enjolras firmly shaking his head. Grantaire sighed,

"C'mon kid, you've gotta be hungry. You haven't eaten since you woke up." Enjolras glared at Grantaire, pressing his lips lightly together.

"Not hungry." Enjolras declared. Enjolras' stomach then chose that moment to growl loudly, and Grantaire chuckled, Enjolras giving his own belly one of his famous glares.

"Yeah, your body thinks differently." Grantaire said, taking Enjolras' hand and guiding him into the kitchen. He opened the pantry, which was to the left of the refrigerator. The pantry was large, and had four shelves, the one on the top labeled "Combeferre" by a sticky note, the one in the middle labeled "Courf," the next labeled "Enjolras," and the last labeled "All." He scanned through Enjolras' shelf, which had scarce pickings. He frowned,

"Nothing suitable for toddlers here, of course." He muttered to himself unsurprised. Was three even a toddler age? He then took to scanning through the "All" shelf. There was a box of cheerios there. That sounded like an okay thing for a kid to eat. He held it up in front of Enjolras', Enjolras shaking his head, much to Grantaire's dismay.

"Don't like." Enjolras declared. Grantaire sighed, placing a small bag of pretzels in front of him instead. Enjolras shook his head again.

"Of course you'd be a picky eater." Grantaire muttered. The shaking head thing continued for another few minutes, and he quickly ran out of hope. But He wasn't about to give up. He couldn't just let Enjolras go hungry! Then, he placed an unopened can of applesauce in front of the blonde. Enjolras gave a squeak of delight, Grantaire letting out a sigh of relief. "You want applesauce?" He questioned, desperation evident in his tone.

"Yes!" Enjolras exclaimed, Grantaire poking around the kitchen until he procured a spoon and a bowl. He poured a small amount of applesauce into it, before placing the now opened applesauce in the fridge. Enjolras quickly ate it, though Grantaire thought he may have gotten a little bit more on him then in him. After he wiped Enjolras off with a wet paper towel, Enjolras had climbed onto the sofa in the middle of the living room, Grantaire following him. Grantaire turned the TV to some sort of kiddy thing, that seemed appropriate (Though there was a bit of talk about "execution…"). Enjolras wasn't really enticed by the show, and crawled over to Grantaire, climbing onto his chest.

Grantaire froze, and Enjolras curled into a tight ball against him, closing his eyes. Grantaire had rubbed the small childs back, as Enjolras' breathing evened out. Grantaire didn't dare fall asleep, afraid of what would happen if Enjolras' woke up before him. Enjolras continued to sleep for four entire hours, which probably wasn't normal, come to think of it, but Grantaire didn't think much of it.

And then, Combeferre and Courfeyrac burst into the apartment.