I'm really sorry this took a few days, but I went to see Billy Elliot one night, and then I had a major psychology project due, and I wanted to be as canon as possible with what some people argue is a non-canon ship.
Also, Thank you all for your very kind words. It really made my day. This is an answer to another 'prompt,' as well as a piece that I was inspired to write after hearing that France had legalized gay marriage.
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I am also not male, so if there are any inaccuracies in this chapter, please forgive me.
They are at the Musain, Jehan braiding Cosette's hair, Grantaire and Eponine sharing a bottle of wine, Feuilly showing Bahorel his new tattoo ("See? It's Poland's flag?" "…"), and Courfeyrac shamelessly flirting with Enjolras, who looks annoyed, when Combeferre bursts in, Macbook tucked carefully under his arm. "Have you heard? France just legalized gay marriage?"
"…you're kidding," Enjolras says, closing his copy of The Republic and standing up. The look on his face makes Grantaire's heart ache.
"Never." Combeferre grins, glasses slightly askew from his mad dash to the café.
As soon as the news is confirmed, Enjolras grabs the face of the person seated nearest to him and kisses him on the lips; in this case, it's Courfeyrac, seated across the table from him. The shorter boy squirms a bit, before kissing him back, tangling his fingers idly in Enjolras's blond curls; Enjolras pushes him away. "That…Courf. Just a celebratory impulse."
Courfeyrac grins impishly. "Can't blame me for trying, though, can you, boss?"
"Don't call me that." Everyone is gaping at him, and Enjolras blushes so violently that Joly thinks he might have broken a blood vessel. He glances around the room, eyes settling on Grantaire, whose mouth is open in shock. Enjolras isn't very good at reading emotions, but the pain is so openly plain on his friend's face that he feels it himself for a moment. "Grantaire…" Grantaire gets up and walks out, Eponine standing up to follow him. Enjolras catches her shoulder. "Allow me?" She sighs and gestures for him to follow, which Enjolras does.
"Grantaire!" he calls, but the smaller man, surprisingly quick on his feet for his level of inebriation, has already walked outside. Enjolras opens the door and follows. Grantaire is faced towards him, lighting a cigarette, but turns away when he sees who it is. "Grantaire."
"What is it, Apollo?" he says in a voice like the Sahara.
"What's wrong?" He instantly knows that it's the wrong thing to say, but he's already said it, and, as his father once told him, words are like bullets, you can't take either back once they're out there.
"Nothing's wrong. Go back inside. Eat, drink, and be merry. 'A huge victory has been won today against injustice and ignorance,'" he says in a mocking tone, still facing away from the door. Enjolras recognizes his own words from months ago, and he's surprised that Grantaire can quote him. He didn't think the other man listened.
"Is it that I kissed Courfeyrac?" Grantaire stiffens. "I thought so. It was just an impulse, Grantaire. A victory lap, if you will. If Pontmercy had been sitting across that table, I would have kissed him. If it had been Eponine, I'd have kissed her. If it had been you, I would have kissed you." Grantaire sighs and flicks his cigarette. "What?"
"Apollo, for someone who is as dazzlingly brilliant as you, you can be awful fucking stupid sometimes."
"That's very hurtful," Enjolras says honestly.
"Yeah, well, it shouldn't be. It's just a fact."
"How am I stupid?" Enjolras has always prided himself on his intellect, and he's a bit confused as to his stupidity now.
Grantaire turned around, dark curls disheveled from the light drizzle that had begun. "You really have no idea, do you?" His dark eyes are filled with astonishment.
"Grantaire, I really don't know what you're—" He's cut off by Grantaire's mouth. Stunned to the point of immobility, he just stands there, being kissed.
Grantaire pulls away. "That. That has been going on for years, Apollo, and you've not noticed it? I find that very hard to believe." With that, he goes back into the café.
It's around midnight when Grantaire's phone begins buzzing on the bedside table. He wakes up to Eponine shoving it in his face, saying, "Deal with this," before rolling over and going back to sleep. Bleary-eyed, he stares at the screen until it starts to make sense to his groggy brain; it's a message from Enjolras. Grantaire blinks twice, fights the urge to pinch himself, and pulls the sheets off of him.
"Whassgoinon?" Eponine mumbles, sliding her arms under her pillow and turning onto her stomach.
"I'm going out. Be back soon," he whispers in what he hopes is a reassuring tone.
"'kay." Looks like it worked, he thinks.
He slides on a pair of jeans, pulls on a random T-shirt, and grabs the Converse by the door before slipping out of his apartment and into the night.
When Grantaire finally arrives at Enjolras's (what was a five-minute drive was an exhaustingly long walk, as he was in no shape to be driving), it's very late, or very early depending on your viewpoint. He sends a quick text letting him know that he's coming up; hopefully they won't wake up Combeferre and Courfeyrac, though from the tone of the text, it seemed urgent, and maybe they're already awake. Still, it can't hurt to be certain.
He raises an arm to knock on the door, but it's opened before he gets the chance. His mouth runs dry. Enjolras is standing in the doorframe, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, blonde curls in disarray. Grantaire is suddenly grateful that he pulled on jeans instead of sweatpants.
"Hey," his Apollo whispers, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard, which is stupid to think, but he does anyway.
"Hey," he whispers back, unconsciously running a hand through his thick curls, a nervous habit of his that Enjolras didn't fail to notice.
"Courfeyrac is out, but Combeferre is trying to sleep. We can go to my room." These words are like torture to Grantaire, who is still very drunk and still very much trying not to frighten his Apollo off with inappropriate advances. He nods and follows Enjolras to his room, the second door on the left of the hallway leading to the small kitchenette.
"So what did you need? It sounded pretty urgent," Grantaire says softly once they're in Enjolras's room.
"I wouldn't say urgent, but I definitely thought it might be of interest to you." He closes the door and turns to face the dark-haired man who is standing by his bed. "Sit." Grantaire does as he's told. "As you may have known, Grantaire, I identify as asexual."
He wonders if this is some torture from the next world for his insouciance and recklessness.
"But, given events from earlier tonight, I'd like to propose an experiment."
Grantaire's brain is entirely too intoxicated to understand what's happening until Enjolras presses his lips against his. He doesn't realize that he hasn't kissed him back until the blonde man pulls away, a look of disappointment on his face. Terrified of losing him forever, Grantaire leans forward, almost toppling to the ground in the process, and catches his Apollo's lips with his own. They kiss carefully, tentatively; both are afraid of upsetting the other. When they finally break away, unfulfilled, Grantaire searches Enjolras's eyes for an answer.
"So…thoughts?"
Enjolras purses his lips. "Interesting. Very interesting. Perhaps…" He kisses him again, lips moving a bit differently, tongue brushing Grantaire's lip, before pulling back again. "Hmm. Just as I suspected."
"Which is?"
"I'd really like for you to take your clothes off."
"What?" Grantaire splutters.
"Not tonight. But definitely in the future." The look on Enjolras's face is something akin to self-satisfaction at seeing Grantaire's face turn red and his jeans become visibly uncomfortable.
Though nothing happens that night, other than the odd kiss and caress, the two men both know that something has changed between them, and the two men fall asleep in one another's arms, cheeks rosy and lips blushing, looking forward to the world in which they would awaken as somewhat tentative lovers.