Summary:Enjolras has a run in with a knife. Grantaire panics. Joly finds everything terribly amusing.
Enjolras had insisted on being taken to Combeferre, but Grantaire is the one with the driver's license and the car. So he ends up at the university instead.
He had been walking to Combeferre's when he had almost collided with Grantaire stepping out of a small art gallery. It's not the first time he and Grantaire have seen each other outside of the Musain, but it's the first time they've been alone together, and their brief conversation was mostly dominated by Enjolras, Grantaire evasive about why he had been in the gallery. Enjolras has the vague notion that Grantaire had been studying art at university, but he had thought he had given that up along with school. Apparently not. It's nice to know that Grantaire has interests outside of cynicism.
When Enjolras had tried to step out of the conversation and be on his way, Grantaire had insisted on tagging along. Enjolras didn't want to give him any false hope, but he hadn't been able to thing of a nice way to tell him not to bother. So Grantaire fell into step with him, and they walked together in silence. It was pleasant, actually, to have someone walking with him, and Grantaire is dependable company. Even after Enjolras had made him flee from his first meeting, he has come along to every one since, and although he spends them half asleep and drinking and only contributes to conversation to tell them nothing they do is going to work and they should just not bother, he still turns up and listens. Once he had corrected Courfeyrac on a date for a reference under his breath, then had gone so red and blustery with embarrassment that Enjolras had rubbed what he had thought were soothing circles on his back, but Grantaire had only turned an even deeper shade of red and almost tripped over his feet in his rush to get to the counter and more alcohol.
So the quiet walk side-by-side had been nice for all that it was unnecessary, but the silence had been its undoing. They had barely walked two blocks when they heard a distressed noise. Enjolras had promised Combeferre he wouldn't go into alleys looking for trouble after the incident with Bahorel. His fingers had bothered him for weeks, every time he forgot that they were broken and tried to do something simple. Like put on clothes. But he and Grantaire looked at each other at the cry and that promise was forgotten.
Halfway down the alleyway they saw a man and a woman. The man was facing away from the both of them, but the woman had her handbag held out towards him, strap resting over her loosely curled fingers. Enjolras felt Grantaire's hand brush against his arm, but it never caught - he was already moving towards the mugger.
Enjolras called out to the man when he was standing almost right behind him, and when the mugger turned he had about a second to think that he probably should've confronted him from a distance before he lashed out at him, knife clutched too tightly in his hand. The blade caught him high on the arm, and Enjolras barely had time to register the pain before Grantaire pushed him aside and punched the mugger in the face.
His knife clattered to the ground and the mugger sprinted off out of the alley, clutching at his nose, but Grantaire and Enjolras did not watch him leave. Enjolras had already undone the loose, low-hanging knot of the tie he was wearing around his neck but he couldn't wrap it around the wound himself. Grantaire reached out to take it and tied it around his arm with trembling fingers, though the fabric was pulled tight. Enjolras barely registered the way that Grantaire's whole arm seemed to shake as his fingers brushed lightly over the now-covered cut - too busy trying to explain to the girl that she didn't need to call him an ambulance, he can get to a hospital just fine; she should call the police and report the mugger and really, she doesn't need to thank him, he was just doing what any descent person would - but when they moved towards Grantaire's car and his hand fell away, Enjolras felt the pain more clearly.
His arm had not bled overly much, but the cut was deep. Enjolras had said it was not bad enough to worry about stitches and to just take him to Combeferre's, but Grantaire had refused, which is how Enjolras finds himself at the university.
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Grantaire, it turns out, is good friends with a boy in his third year of a medical degree, and he tells Enjolras that medical students are always looking for victims to practice giving stitches to. He laughs as he says it, but even Enjolras - who has difficulty with faces at the best of times, and can almost never read someone's expressions unless he knows them well - can tell that Grantaire's smile is fake. If nothing else, the way that his hands shake as they grip the steering wheel is a dead giveaway, and Enjolras almost asks if Grantaire would prefer him to drive them instead. But there is almost no one else on the road anyway, and his arm does hurt quite a bit. Besides that, he can't drive.
He has no choice then but to go along with Grantaire to the university, and he tells him as much, muses that the only way he could get out of it would be to jump out of a moving car, and then he would actually need to go to the hospital. Grantaire chuckles at that, and tells him to cheer up, because he will be helping a young doctor's education by relenting. Enjolras almost flinches then. Education is still a sore topic for the two of them, and he hadn't meant to start a fight, but calm Grantaire's trembling down with some conversation. But when he turns his head to catch Grantaire's eyes, they are wide and sincere.
Grantaire's friend is named Joly, and when he introduces him to Enjolras he holds the "l" so his name sounds more like the English word for happy. From the way that he grins hugely at the two of them Enjolras can tell that the nickname is appropriate, but when Grantaire tells him why they're there, his face becomes serious almost immediately, and he tuts as he prods at Enjolras' arm.
In the end Enjolras does not need stitches, which comes as no surprise (he's had enough injuries that have needed to be stitched up that he knows the difference), but he lets Joly do them anyway; ostensibly for practice, although truthfully for the look of worry in Grantaire's eyes despite Joly's diagnosis. He did step up to defend him after all, even if he did get slightly stabbed before he moved into action. Enjolras sends a quick text to Combeferre as Joly prepares to close up the cut on his arm, and then settles back let his chatter with Grantaire wash over him.
As Joly threads needle through flesh, Enjolras would be worried about the way he keeps taking his eyes off the cut to look up at his face and grin a grin that is equal parts delighted and mischievous, if he weren't equally concerned by the way Grantaire turns a darker shade of red every time it happens; sitting on on of the tables in the classroom, swinging his legs and looking anywhere but the two of them. Enjolras didn't even notice him jump up to get on the table, but he must have. He's too short to simply have sat down. Enjolras makes a note to ask him how he got to light on his feet, and if he could possibly teach him.
When Joly is done, Grantaire finally agrees to take him to Combeferre, and when Enjolras thanks Joly for his help, he does so along with an offer to come along to the next meeting at the Musain. Joly agrees without even asking what Les Amis meets for.
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Joly spends his first two weeks of Les Amis meetings sitting silently next to Grantaire and handing him drinks every time he talks about how useless it is to go to protests or fundraise or volunteer because nothing is ever going to change so why even bother. Admittedly Grantaire does leave the Musain drunker than usual, but Enjolras is so well disposed at him for stopping Grantaire's nihilistic rants that, even if they didn't have an open door policy for who is allowed to organise meetings and speak at them, he would've told Joly "of course" anyway when he approaches him with the request at the end of the second week.
The next week Joly runs a meeting on hospital funding and overcrowding. Grantaire doesn't make a single disparaging comment, just sits quietly at his table and sketches, which Enjolras assumes is in support of his friend. Truthfully, however, he is not paying much attention. He is too proud of Joly, of the way his eyes light up and his cheeks flush, only half influenced by alcohol and nerves. Of the way he slams his fist on the table and some of the café's patrons turn to stare at them. And not all look away after a few minutes.
The people are listening.