AN: Just a short E/R that came about due to a prompt. E/R established relationship.
Establishment
It wasn't as though they were going to use the details later for anything. Grantaire was fairly certain that their curiosity began and ended with if Enjolras was equally as passionate in bed as he was when it came to the Republic. He saw nothing wrong with the others talking about their mistresses in bed, though most of those stories ended up being about something humorous. A mistake made, the wrong name being called out.
Grantaire had none of those stories. Certainly, each and every time wasn't perfect, but they were glorious to him. Bossuet and Bahorel wanted lewdness. They wanted to laugh. They wanted to raise eyebrows.
But all Grantaire could give them was another end of the conversation. To be with Enjolras was to be chosen. It was ascending to the stars on a nightly basis. It was something more than mere physical contact and intimacy. It was romantic, yes, but it was tantamount to laying not with a god but with a sunbeam. All at once, there is warmth and charm and Grantaire felt as though he could do anything, as though he was worth everything. The love didn't come in the movement, but in how Enjolras looked at him. How Enjolras reached out to him. How Enjolras could give him benediction with but a glance. He felt loved. He felt needed. He felt as though he was out of his skin and placed in someone new. Someone who deserved to feel such things.
Bahorel just scoffed. "There he goes again. One day, you may well join him up on that pedestal you have for him."
"I wouldn't want to," Grantaire replied, uncaring that neither Bahorel nor Bossuet would understand.
When the cafe finally cleared out and the only ones left were Grantaire and Enjolras, Grantaire looked at his idol. He thought about opening his mouth, inviting Enjolras back to their home. How foolish would that be? To invite him. He shook his head, blaming the intoxication both on the wine and that which he shared with his two friends, and as he got up to leave the cafe, Enjolras reached out. Long fingers wrapped around Grantaire's wrist.
"I heard what you said to them," Enjolras said, not letting go, but not looking up at Grantaire. His pen continued to move against his letter.
"Oh?" Grantaire tried to keep his voice clear. Had he said something offensive? Had he accidentally hurt Enjolras?
Finally, the blond looked up at him, his gaze matching Grantaire's. "Stay with me for a bit longer."
Relief washed through Grantaire like a hot bath and he instantly took a seat across from him. Enjolras' fingers didn't leave Grantaire's wrist throughout.