A/N Here's chapter two! Sorry for the long wait, but I found this chapter quite difficult to write. I know its a bit out of season now but, meh.
We're starting with Enjolras and Grantaire, because I know how much you guys love these two, but I would just like to say that I DO NOT ship E/R in any form, ever. This fiction will be strictly friendship only. Sorry for those of you that were hoping, but it's just not something I am comfortable with.
Anyway, now that we have that cleared up, on with the story….*skips away humming Christmas carols*
Chapter Two
The bright yellow shape of the school bus faded into the grey, misty distance, leaving Grantaire alone at the side of the road. A small shudder rippled through him at a particularly freezing gust of wind and he was quick to turn his fleece lined collar up against the elements. Burying his numbed hands in the pockets of his coat, his feet beat out a steady rhythm as he began to trudge down the long dirt track that led to his house, his bag, heavy with school paraphernalia, thumping against his back in time with his steps. Living on a horse ranch had quite a few perks; unfortunately living locally was not one of them.
It took him a good quarter of an hour to reach the house, but even then he spurned the warmth that the yellow light in the windows promised, instead dumping his bag on the porch, changing his shoes for a pair of mud spattered boots and heading off towards the long, low buildings that housed the Grantaire family's many horses.
The door of the barn squeaked as he opened it and instantly several curious, equine heads appeared over the top of stable doors. He walked quickly down the barn, his hands reaching out to briefly stroke the velvety noses, his focus on one horse only.
"Hey, Pegs." He murmured, leaning on the stable door. A small horse, silver in colour, abandoned its hay net in favour of frisking the pockets of its owner for treats. Pegasus had been given to Grantaire a year before and he loved the little horse with all of his heart.
Grantaire was a lonely boy, and he was not alone wholly by choice. It was true that he kept mostly to himself, but this was more of a self-preservation instinct than an antisocial nature. He found reading and writing to be difficult, the letters getting muddled up in his head and coming out jumbled on the paper. For this simple difference, when he was younger he had been terribly bullied.
What hurt most was the fact that everyone seemed to focus only on what he was bad at, completely missing what else he could do. The fact that he couldn't describe things with words was completely irrelevant when compared to the things he could say with his art. Despite trying to ignore the cruel words - idiot, thickhead, loser, waste of space – the taunts had stuck, along with a staunch distrust of his peers.
"And now I have Enjolras, the Julien Enjolras, coming over for Christmas," he murmured to the silken mane. "It's going to be a nightmare. He's rich and popular and smart…," he broke off with a sigh, "I really hate Javert right now."
Pegasus whinnied understandingly, pushing Grantaire in the face with his nose before turning back to his food.
"Okay, okay buddy, I get it," Grantaire tried to sound disapproving, but he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, "I need to get inside." Reaching over the door to give his best friend a final pat, Grantaire returned to the house.
He pulled off his dirty boots in the mud room, the home of all the outdoor boots and coats, and hurried through the door into the kitchen. The warmth was an instant blessing to his cold ears and fingers, both extremities tingling as the blood returned to them.
He was barely through the door when he was seized from behind in a gentle headlock and his hair was given a thorough mussing. Grantaire retaliated with a flurry of elbow jabs and kicks, the blows doing the job and freeing him.
"What the hell, Adrian?!" His oldest brother smirked at the scowl he received, reaching out a hand to help reorganize the tangled nest he had created in Grantiare's curls.
"Sorry, squirt." The disliked nickname earned him a growl and began a full out rough and tumble session spanning three rooms and resulting in a few bruises for each brother.
"Hey! Give it a rest you two!" Isabelle, his sister, threw a pillow at each of them to back up her point, "Mum spent all day tidying up the house for all of the family coming tomorrow, so don't make a mess."
Adrian scrambled up from his place on the floor, nearly kicking Grantaire in the face in the process, then threw himself onto the sofa, "Take a chill pill, Belle. You're going to need it to deal with the cousins tomorrow!"
Pulling a face, Isabelle curled herself up in an armchair, a hefty book in her hands. Grantaire got to his feet, mumbling something about homework, and headed up to his room, grabbing his backpack from the kitchen on the way.
Safe in the sanctuary of his bedroom, Grantaire flung himself comfortably onto his bed, letting out a deep breath of contentment. The iPad that had been a present for his thirteenth birthday was soon in his hands and, on a whim, he checked his email. He had been expecting something from Bahoral complaining about the project, or possibly from Eponine looking for a conversation, but he had not been expecting an email from Julien Enjolras. They had briefly exchanged contact information (read: Enjolras had demanded to know how to get in touch with him and Grantaire had mumbled his email address out of instinct) but Grantaire had not been expecting the response to be this fast.
Feeling curious but strangely nervous, he opened the electronic communication with a tap of his finger.
From: jaenjolras
To: aRt-attack
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 18:28
Subject: Javert's Winter Project (JWP)
Hello, Grantaire,
In case the email address did not alert you, this is Enjolras from Javert's history class. The purpose of this email is to work out a schedule so we can complete this project smoothly and with equal work completed on both sides. How would you like to proceed?
Enjolras
Grantaire couldn't help but be a little amused at his classmate's formal tone, but was mostly just intimidated. And what exactly did the phrase 'equal work completed on both sides' supposed to mean? Was Julien Snobby Enjolras suggesting that he wouldn't work hard enough? A pleasant sense of injustice flared in his belly and he opened the audio option on the keyboard with confidence.
From: aRt-attack
To: jaenjolras
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 18:32
Subject: How are your people skills?
Hi Enjolras,
My family is having a big dinner on Sunday night. It is a tradition of ours so it would be perfect for the project. You can come if you want and then when you are here we can work out when I can come to your house. Just to warn you there will be a LOT of people so expect some crowding.
R
He sent the email before he lost his nerve, the chatty tone of it so unlike his normal self. When a reply did not instantly come through he worried a little. When half an hour passed and still no reply came, he was convinced he had somehow offended the golden boy of his class and that he was going to get into trouble and probably expelled…
The ping of his email alert calmed his frayed nerves somewhat and he scrambled to open the new message.
From: jaenjolras
To: aRt-attack
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 19:05
Subject: Re: How are your people skills?
I apologise for the wait, but it was necessary for me to check the arrangements with my parents before I agreed.
Your plan seems to be a good one, so I think we should proceed. What time would you like me to arrive? Should I bring anything with me; a gift for you parents perhaps? Is the dress code formal or informal? Also, what is your address? My driver will need it to find you. Details would be greatly appreciated.
Enjolras
P.S. I noticed you signed the email with a capital 'r'. It is also in your email address. Is it a nickname?
Upon reading the footnote, Grantaire rolled his eyes and huffed out a breath. He had picked up the nickname several years ago from a French uncle who thought he was a lot funnier than he actually was, especially when he was drunk. "The littlest Grantaire will be the capital 'R', eh?!" he had bellowed, shaking with mirth at his own pun. For some odd reason the family had adopted it. Grantaire had no objections for he disliked his given name of Nicholas, and it made him easier to distinguish from his brother and cousins when the family came round for Christmas.
"R! Dinner is on the table!" His mother's voice rang up the stairs.
"Just a second!" he shouted back, keeping the message short and to the point.
From: aRt-attack
To: jaenjolras
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 19:12
Subject: Re: How are your people skills?
It's a French pun. You know, grand aire, Grantaire?
I'll check the times and stuff with my parents, but wear what you want and I don't think you need to bring anything. Maybe wine? I don't know. I've got to go but I might email you later.
R
He leapt off his bed and ran down the stairs, crashing into the kitchen just in time.
"You look happy," his mother noted, pressing a kiss to his curls as she put a plate filled with roast kitchen, creamy mash, sweet corn and gravy down in front of him, "Did you have a good last day at school?"
"It was alright," he muttered, waiting until everyone was seated and grace had been said before asking, "Would you mind if I had a friend come over on Sunday night for the party?"
His father, a clean shaven, cheerful looking man, frowned, "It's supposed to be for family."
Grantaire hastily explained about the project and about Enjolras, assuring them he would be no trouble at all.
"He sounds like he's got a stick up his ass," muttered Adrian, flinching when his mother leant across and clipped him around the ear for his language, "What! He does."
"No need to mean," Isabelle informed him primly.
"He sort of does act like that. He has his own driver and everything," Grantaire admitted, placing his knife and fork neatly together at his father's insistence, "but we have to do it."
"Tell him he can come," his father announced, stacking the plates together, "I'm sure we've got room for one more in this house on the night."
Grantaire bolted up stairs and hastily spoke out the email.
From: aRt-attack
To: jaenjolras
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 19:49
Subject: Success!
Hi Enjolras. My parents said you can come. If you arrive at about six o'clock that would be good. Guess I'll see you then!
R
P.S. Address is Silver Birch Farm, East Road. It's pretty easy to find as we're the only ones out here.
The reply pinged through seconds later.
From: jaenjolras
To: aRt-attack
Sent: Friday, December 20th, 2013 at 19:49
Subject: Re: Success!
It seems we share a mutual French heritage, mon ami. Thank you for the directions and I will see you at six on Sunday evening.
Looking forwards to it, mon ami.
Enjolras
A/N Sorry for the rubbish ending, but thank you for reading! For all you history buffs out there, there is a special meaning to times that their emails were sent at. See if you can figure out what!
I can't promise when this will be next updated (it's not really my focus at the moment) but please review! Reviews inspire….inspiration (fancy that)
Until next time, mes amis!
Libz