Grantaire bit her lip as she stared at herself in the mirror. She had bags under her eyes from all-nighters, her hair was a mess, she had- wait, was that food?- stuff on her shirt and face, and paint on most of the rest of her. Quite possibly, this was the worst state she'd been in in a while.

"Mon dieu," she muttered, "aren't I a looker today?" She turned around and looked at the baby sleeping in a carrier on the counter.

"You sure are a handful mon petit."

The baby did not respond.

Grantaire ran a hand through her tangled hair before picking the carrier up and carrying it with her into the loft.

She gave the babe a loving smile before turning to her painting.

She'd been in the middle of a portrait of a child when her son started crying rather loudly from the nursery down the hall where he was supposed to be sleeping.

Seven years ago, her and Enjolras got married. Seven years later, here she was, 29 years old, with a 5 year old, a 3 year old, and the 2 month old laying in the carrier near her.

"hu hu whaaa" the baby woke up and started crying again. Grantaire sighed and put down her paintbrush again.

"Hush hush, Branton, it's okay," Grantaire told the crying baby boy with his father's blonde hair.

Branton didn't like the smell of paint very much.

Grantaire carried him in one arm and the carrier with the other hand. She took him downstairs and plopped down on the couch, setting the carrier on the floor beside her.

"Entendez-vous les gens chantent? Chanter la chanson des hommes en colère?" She sang softly as she ran her fingers through the baby's already thick, blonde curls.

At that moment she heard a little girl's squeals of delight and the chittery laughter of a toddler.

"Shh shh, be quiet, baby might be sleeping," Enjolras's voice said through the door.

The door opened and the 5 year old girl came skipping into view.

"Maman!" she squealed as she saw me.

"Hey princess! How was the park?"

"It was so much fun!" She laughed.

"Ma!" the 3 year old boy ran in on his chubby legs, black curls bouncing as he came.

"Roche! How's my big boy?" Grantaire cooed. Enjolras walked into view after hanging up the kids' jackets and smiled at her.

"Looks like someone didn't like his lunch today," he said with a smirk, he walked forward and kissed her on her forehead.

"Or his nap."

"That's nice."

"Not so much. I couldn't finish my painting."

"Want me to take him mon amour?"

"Could you?" Grantaire asked hopefully.

"Of course! And I've asked Courfeyrac to take the kids tonight so you and I can go out for dinner," Enjolras said with a suggestive look.

"Uncle Courfeyrac?!" Colette asked excitedly.

"Yes sweetie," Enjolras said.

"Yay! Imma put on my princess dress!" she squealed with laughter. Racing up the stairs to her bedroom.

Grantaire smiled sweetly as her husband rolled his eyes and muttered something about aristocratic society before taking the child from her arms and baby talking it.

"Come on Roche," she said, taking her three year old's hand and pulling him along, "let's dress you to go to Courf's."

She pulled him upstairs and he immediately ran and grabbed his red vest.

"I wanna be revouusionis mommy!"

"Are you sure? You're always a revolutionist Roche," Grantaire said gently.

"Yes yes yes!" the three year old responded, bouncing like a rabbit around the room.

"Okay... okay, calm down trouble maker," Grantaire laughed.

"Sing the song mommy?" Roche asked, looking up at her innocently. Grantaire sighed.

"Entendez-vous les gens chantent? Chanter la chanson des hommes en colère."

"It is the music of the people who will not be slaves again!" Colette came singing into the room, half dressed in her princess outfit.

"When the beating of your heart..."

"Echoes the beating of the drums!"

"There is a life about to start..."

"When tomorrow comes!" the five year old sang.

"Will you join in our coosade," the three year old joined in, putting on his vest and marching around the room.

"Who will come and stand with me?" Grantaire sang marching behind her young child.

"Beyond the barricade, is there a world you wish to see?"

"Will you join in the fight?"

"That will give you the right?"

"Too bee fweeeee!" Roche sang loudly.

They sang the chorus again, rather loudly and comically, before Grantaire made Colette go finish putting on her princess dress and finished dressing Roche.

Ding dong ding dong

"UNCLE COURFEYRAC!" Colette screamed from her room before rushing down the stairs.

"Mommy, piggy ride?" Roche requested.

Grantaire laughed and got down so her three year old could climb on her back. Then, after he'd wrapped his arms and legs around her, she grabbed his legs and went bouncing down the stairs, three year old screeching with delight.

Courfeyrac was had Colette up on his hip and Jehan was cooing at Branton.

"Uncle Couwf!" Roche exclaimed as if surprised at his appearance.

"Hey! How's my little revolutionary?"

"I good!" the little boy announced, sliding down Grantaire's back and trotting up to Courf.

Instructions were given and goodbyes were said and soon Courfeyrac and Jehan were off with three small children.

"Now," Enjolras purred, wrapping his arms around his wife, "how about we go take a shower so that you and I can go on our date?"

"How about we just stay home?"

"No can do," Enjolras said shaking his head with a smile, "We've got reservations and I booked us a hotel room."

Grantaire turned in his arms and put her own up on his shoulders.

"You've got this all planned out huh?"

"Oh yes."

"Well then," she said seductively, "lets go take a shower."

Later that night, as Enjolras and Grantaire cuddled on the bed in the hotel, Grantaire felt refreshed.

She laid her head on Enjolras's chest and kissed it.

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

"I needed this," she admitted.

"I know," Enjolras replied, kissing the top of her head. He pulled the covers over them and turned off the light.

"I always know," he said.

"Ha, humble are we."

"Of course."

"Go to sleep Apollo," she mumbled against his warm chest. Enjolras stroked her hair with one hand and laid the other on her shoulder.

As he fell asleep. He knew that there was no one else he'd rather love. No one else he'd rather have three (albeit trying at times) wonderful children with.

His painter, his lover, his soulmate, his cynic.

The End.

Fin! That's all folks!