Chapter 3
A/N: Much better length no? Once again great big thanks to Sparrah for helping me a) improve my tone b) writing Grantaire for me – I do try Grantaire but I generally just can't get my mind around his mindset.
Grantaire sighed faintly. This lack of food wouldn't aid recovery, much less put either of them in a better mood, but now didn't seem the time to stand and retrieve the bread and butter–butter, who was he all of a sudden, Monsier le Mayor? He put his arms tighter around Enjolras once more, smiling faintly as he felt the former leader of the students' resistance move closer to him, straddling his lap. It was a start, at least, even if he was only moving closer to find some way of staying sane. Nothing to get an erection over, he thought to himself, giving his cock a glower as he felt the blood slipping from his head southward. Enjolras shuddered against him, his eyes shut. For once, the drunkard prayed. Prayed that the man he worshiped as the light of his life, as the god of the very sun itself, wouldn't feel a certain something poking at him from below.
Enjolras moved closer still to the one who held him. The visions his memory provided wouldn't stop, no matter how much he wished they would. So much death…it was a waste. His grip on Grantaire tightened without his realising, almost clinging to him as a drowning swimmer would cling to a rope. Slowly, Enjolras raised his head, his eyes opening, troubled. He paused, hesitating briefly. This doubt was assuaged quickly enough as he felt something prod him mightily on the ass. His lips brushed against Grantaire's. Why he couldn't say. All he knew was some insane urge had gripped him, had driven him to do so, and the other man had only hardened his own resolve–and his need.
Slowly, he drew back enough to look up at him, regarding him contemplatively. Grantaire's face was flushed, the same dull pink as when he'd taken too much of the drink, except he panted now, and his lips were crushed together with the drunkard's. Their tongues wrestled with one another as their kiss deepened, held tight to one another until they were forced to draw back for breath, that coming through their noses not even half of enough for their burning lungs.
A soft half panted whine escaped Enjolras as his body took it on himself to remind him that he was in no real condition to continue. No matter how he longed to, he still hurt, not just physically but mentally. He kept his clinging grip to him head resting onto his shoulder still shuddering, the memories flooding back now the source of distraction had been removed. His brow furrowed as he struggled trying to force those thoughts down and away. He also couldn't help the jolt of panic as he was reminded once more when he tried to move his legs to get himself pressed closer that he had no feeling. There'd also been no sense of any form of motion. He shook more looking up at Grantaire slightly, wanting to forget all this worry, and the pain.
Grantaire looked back at him, confused as to what to do. Slowly, cautiously, he laid the man onto his back. What an odd pair they made, leader and drunkard, dreamer and cynic. Cupping his face between his hands, he kissed him again longingly before moving down his throat, pressing his lips to the hollow at its base, sucking lightly as he unbuttoned Enjolras' shirt. He didn't want to hurt him, or frighten him. He inched down the buttons one by one, glancing up after each, lips still pressed to his skin, asking silently, "Is this what you want?"
Enjolras relaxed faintly kissing back watching him. Other memories were coming to the front of his mind of the last time he'd been like this, though at that point less injured on the physical scale. That cruel eyed man was st–no it was only Nicholas. Nicholas wouldn't hurt him. He tried to focus on that thought instead of what else was been dredged up. He bit his lip, fighting his own fears now. The spy, he was here, he was sure. He whimpered softly "no…." he whispered out lost back into the memories, when no got nothing more than pain. "No!" he cried more insistently "I'll be good…. don't…. hurt me…please"
Grantaire bolted up, immediately freezing. When he saw the glazed look in Enjolras' eyes, he reached down and shook him by the shoulders, grasping his face between his hands and tapping it lightly. "Adrien. Adrien, Apollo, it's me. It's Nicholas. You're safe. Adrien, do you hear me? I won't let them harm you. I won't let him harm you. Je t'aime, Adrien Enjolras." Enjolras shook his eyes glazed for a few seconds longer pain and fear mingled as he came out of those memories though he looked at Grantaire "…sorry…" he whispered looking away, not wanting to meet eye contact, ashamed of his own weakness, still shaking at those memories coming to the fore. He'd tried even harder to quash those then the losses at the barricades.
"It is past, Adrien. It is done. Let it rest." Grantaire smoothed his hair back from his face, kissing his brow. "Let it rest, my love." A brighter flush darkened his cheeks. Enjolras frowned still shaking slightly "I'm….broken…" he whispered out softly, not only meaning in the physical sense but in the mental sense as well eyes closed faintly in an attempt to hold back tears at this damning thought. "No, you're not broken. And even if you are, I'll pick up your pieces and put you back together." Grantaire clutched at him. Now who was the drowning man? "I swear to you, I will. I will. I'll fix you." He was babbling and, or worse, a babbling liar, but he knew this and couldn't stop. "I'll fix you. You'll be all right. We'll be all right."
Enjolras frowned nodding, accepting his words as fact. He needed some hope, some small shred of hope that he'd get better. Even if it was just a lie, surely this was better than a life with nothing to hope for. It had to be… he needed a dream to cling to. Grantaire rubbed at his cheeks with his thumbs, kissing him gently. "Be my shtupid dreamer again. Dream for me, dream for yer cynic, Adrien." A wry smile curled his lips. "I can only have wet dreams, mind, my Apollo, so you'll have a tough time for it." Enjolras allowed himself a slight smile at that kissing back. He hugged him, holding him as he half dozed "Hard to dream with legs that still won't work Nicholas… but I'll try… I'll try so you don't have to give yourself a headache" he whispered out.
"Oho, you remember how I get headaches when sober and hard? So sweet of you, my sun," Grantaire half-joked, but glanced worriedly at Enjolras' legs. He ran a hand along them, chewing at his lip. Enjolras smiled at that slightly "why can't I feel them?" he asked quietly, not even able to feel Grantaires hand on them, though he knew it was there. Fear thrummed in the drunkard's chest to the tattoo of his heart, picking up its pace. He'll see a doctor tomorrow, that's what. He'll see one. He'll get better. Grantaire settled his head on Enjolras' belly. "Adrien…" Enjolras frowned slightly tugging him to where he could hug him "stay with me, while I sleep, I'm scared of my dreams…." he whispered out. "Of course." He put his arms around the other man once more, snuggling down into his neck. The only reaction from Enjolras was a very slight soft snore. He was asleep.