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Chapter Text

Grantaire wasn’t quite sure how he managed to get himself into this mess. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, wasn’t supposed to go on this long. Every time he made the trek over to Enjolras’s apartment, Grantaire swore it would be the last time - but that was all forgotten the moment he was pushed back onto Enjolras’s bed.

It - whatever it was - started out simple enough. Friends with benefits, no strings attached. The boundaries were set: no emotions, no making breakfast in the morning, and absolutely no interference with their personal lives. Grantaire hated those rules with a passion. Nevertheless, he agreed, because it was a small price to pay to keep those calloused hands and golden hair in his life.

In the beginning, it was an easy routine to fall into. Wild, and exciting, and fun, like a carnival ride. Now, Grantaire was yelling for the operator to let him off.

The first time they had kissed was after an argument. Grantaire liked to rile Enjolras up, purely for entertainment. This particular fight was different from the others, though. Enjolras flew into the Cafe Musain, the local coffee shop on the edge of campus, ranting about some stupid literary theory. It was funny to see his emotions get the better of him, so Grantaire relentlessly incited the man’s anger. He knew he went too far when Enjolras gave up and stormed away to his apartment.

Grantaire felt bad, a little bit, but immediately regretted his life choices when he was met with exasperated looks from his friends. “Go apologize,” Combeferre deadpanned, holding up a hand to stop the childish protests all but spilling out of Grantaire. “Now.”

Reluctantly, he got up and followed Enjolras’s whirlwind trail back to his place, practicing a bullshit apology that he hoped would satiate the hurricane brewing in the blond.

After a deep sigh and quick prayer to whatever deity that could protect him from Enjolras’s wrath, Grantaire knocked on his door - half-hoping he wouldn’t be there. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Enjolras. Normally, it was fun to get caught up in the revolutionary’s wild ideas and passion. The depth of his determination and empathy was incredible, but so was his anger. Quick-tempered and sharp-tongued, Enjolras was a good man who could easily turn ruthless.

That is why, when the door yanked open to reveal Enjolras glaring pointedly at a spot above Grantaire’s head, Grantaire all but cursed himself for ever deciding to attend college. Finally lowering his gaze to Grantaire, Enjolras all but growled, “What,” more of a statement than a question.

Unable to return the scowl, Grantaire elected to stare at Enjolras’s collarbone, which he justified by it being at eye-level. “I came to apologi-!” He was cut off with a yelp as Enjolras simply dragged him into the room by his collar. Slamming the door shut behind him, Enjolras released his grip on Grantaire’s poor t-shirt and began to pace around in the tiny living area.

“You are so frustrating, do you know that?!” Enjolras barked, and Grantaire couldn’t help but shrink in on himself. “Why do you always have to fight with me? Is it like a game to you?”

Grantaire resisted the urge to say “yes, it is absolutely a game, why else would I do it?” but the look on Enjolras’s face was almost feral.

Enjolras stopped pacing, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Well? What’s your deal? Do you make it a point to argue because you hate me? What is it?”

Somewhere in this conversation, Grantaire had gotten lost. “Wait, what? I don’t - I don’t hate you. Why would I hate you?” The tension that had built up in Grantaire’s body caused his hands to twitch, feeling like a soda that had Mentos dropped into it and then quickly bottled up.

“Don’t act all innocent now,” Enjolras said lowly, arms still crossed and gaze narrowed, “I see the way you glare at me when you’re drunk. It isn’t exactly indiscreet.”

Anger flowed back into Grantaire’s veins. “At least I’m not the one who acts holier-than-thou all the time!” He spit, “At least I don’t act like a toddler when he doesn’t get his way!”

Enjolras’s nose flared. “Stop.” He was moving steadily closer, but Grantaire was too pissed to notice or care.

“No, you know what? I’m glad I’m not like you. I’m glad I don’t have to constantly seek everyone’s approval and attention! I’m glad I-!”

“Stop.” This time, Grantaire was cut off by Enjolras pushing him back against the door, the suddenness of it knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Just shut up for once in your goddamned life.”

The difference in height between them had never really been that noteworthy, but now Grantaire felt like an antelope cornered by a cheetah. Enjolras’s palms were flat against the door on either side of Grantaire’s head, almost like a challenge. It had never really occurred to Grantaire, but in that moment he was struck by the incomprehensible yet obvious truth: Enjolras was hot.

Maybe his expression revealed too much, because Enjolras let out a low snarl and pushed himself away, turning away from Grantaire. The gold of Enjolras’s hair burned bright against the angry red of his face, the color splotchy across his arms as he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a pain in the ass, Enjolras?” Grantaire turned around to leave the apartment, having completed his task unsuccessfully.

In a moment, Enjolras pushed the door closed once more and blocked Grantaire’s exit. “I’ll give you a pain in the ass,” Enjolras huffed. Grantaire reddened at the implication of his words, blushing further when he realized just how close they were. He could feel the breath fanning out from Enjolras on his face. With the man’s head tilted down towards Grantaire, Enjolras looked exactly like a Greek statue. His face was all angles and sharp lines. Even his mouth was harsh - a defined Cupid’s bow with teeth sinking into his bottom lip. Grantaire released a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, transfixed on Enjolras’s lips.

Ripping his gaze away, Grantaire made for the doorknob again, ducking his head to hide his ever-deepening fluster. “I’m so tired of you and your-”

“Stop.”

Ignoring Enjolras, Grantaire continued, “-God complex. Truly, isn’t it exhausting?”

“Stop.”

Grantaire snarled, “Must be rough-”

Enjolras grabbed the man’s shoulders, pushing him away from the door. “Do you ever shut up?!”

“No, I-” The words were abandoned as Enjolras pressed his lips to Grantaire’s. It was quick, only a peck, but it left him speechless as Enjolras pulled away.

Enjolras snorted, unimpressed, “I figured as much. All bark.” He dropped his hands and moved to let Grantaire out of the apartment.

Pissed off and worked up, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s wrist and scowled, “You’re a prick. Who the hell do you think you are?” Enjolras didn’t say anything, only glanced down to where Grantaire was still holding onto him, absent-mindedly running his tongue along his top lip and for a split-second, Grantaire wanted to know what Enjolras’s mouth tasted like.

He didn’t have to wonder long. With his free hand, Enjolras reached out to grasp the back of Grantaire’s neck, pulling him closer as he quickly leaned down to kiss him again. Relinquishing his grip on Enjolras’s wrist, Grantaire hooked his fingers into the man’s belt holes and pulled him closer, sighing into the kiss. Enjolras tasted like the coffee he had earlier and the mint toothpaste he used.

Grantaire’s head was spinning. Pulling away to catch a breath, he steadied his hands on Enjolras’s hips, muttering, “Does this mean you accept my apology even though I haven’t technically apologized?”

Enjolras snorted once more, and quickly spun them around to push Grantaire’s back into the door. “It’s going to take more than that to forgive you,” He growled into Grantaire’s ear, then set to attacking Grantaire’s neck with his mouth, hands running along his torso.

Grantaire swallowed, hard, revelling in the feeling of his body pressed against Enjolras’s. “Wh-what exactly did you have in mind?” He cursed his stuttering voice, but with Enjolras determined to leave a mark on the base of his throat, coherent thinking was almost impossible.

Enjolras chuckled against Grantaire’s skin, the sensation rather dizzying. Grantaire tilted his head back against the door, panting as Enjolras moved his mouth up his neck. Warm hands and a warm mouth clouded Grantaire’s mind, his own hands knotting themselves into the back of Enjolras’s shirt as if he could somehow pull him closer.

Enjolras didn’t answer, only giving a low hum in response. Grantaire could feel the scrape of teeth against skin and the feather-light touch of Enjolras’s fingertips ghosting along his sides. A warmth in the pit of his stomach was building. If this continued on any longer, his knees were going to give out, unable to keep himself upright.

Grantaire gasped, “Enj,” lightly tugging at blond curls in warning. “Enjolras, I-“

Enjolras backed up to properly look at Grantaire, eyes slowly sweeping down his silhouette. The latter shivered under the evaluation, pressing back against the door for balance.

Grantaire has never seen something so beautiful in his life. His Apollo, his Achilles, with wine-red lips, messed-up hair, and dark eyes. The fact that he, Grantaire, had been the one to do that filled him with a sense of satisfaction.

His body ached. He needed to be touched, needed Enjolras’s hands on him. Somehow, he had survived over two decades without ever having that, but now there’s no way he would’ve made it.

Enjolras wasn’t moving, just staring, and Grantaire felt close to exploding with want. “Please,” He mumbled. “Please, please, please…”

A defined eyebrow quirked up at Grantaire’s words. “Please what?” Enjolras smirked, leaning an arm against the door. “I’m not sure what you’re asking for.”

Grantaire glared up at him as the man feigned oblivion, obviously delighted by the effect he had on Grantaire. Recognizing that Enjolras was not going to give in, Grantaire let out a sigh. No time for embarrassment.

He looked up at Enjolras through his lashes, pouting. “Please kiss me.”

Enjolras’s face broke open in a grin as he leaned down to obey. Closing his eyes, Grantaire got lost in the feeling of their mouths slotted together. He gasped in surprise as he felt himself being lifted into the air and held against the door. Strong arms wrapped under Grantaire’s thighs, holding him in place while large hands came to rest on his ass. It was a matter of seconds before Enjolras noticed Grantaire’s growing desire and pulled away from the kiss. He snickered as Grantaire flushed red, redder when Enjolras rolled his hips in and kneaded the flesh under his fingers. Smirking, Enjolras set right back into sucking the skin of Grantaire’s neck, kissing and biting at the pulse points.

Grantaire let out a groan as Enjolras began grinding hard and fast into him. He felt like a teenager again, rutting feverishly, yet still fully-clothed. Every thrust caused his back to slam into the door, while his thighs were beginning to bruise due to the pressure of Enjolras’s arms. He hated to admit it, but the dull bite of pain nearly pushed him over the edge. The coil in his stomach was tightening and pulsing. The muscles in his abdomen tensed.

Enjolras pushed Grantaire’s legs further apart, continuing his brutal pace. The heat rising in Grantaire’s stomach demanded release. He whined, lightly tugging on Enjolras’s hair again. He couldn’t help the pathetic noises spilling from his lips.

Like the sadist he is, Enjolras didn’t let up, only cooed, “Use your words, baby.”

It took everything in Grantaire not to come then and there. “I’m close,” He breathed, “Enjolras, I’m gonna-”

It was at that moment Enjolras set him back down on the ground and stopped what he was doing. Head foggy from being denied release, Grantaire stumbled forward, trying to get Enjolras back against him.

But he just kept Grantaire at arms length, a small smile on his face. Enjolras tilted Grantaire’s head to the side, momentarily examining his handiwork. With a small hum of approval, Enjolras turned away, saying, “You know where the door is.”

It took Grantaire a moment to comprehend what had happened, the words not quite making sense. “Wait, what?”

“That’s code for “get out,” Grantaire.” Enjolras laughed, waving goodbye to the perplexed man standing at his doorway.

“But-”

Enjolras’s eyes lit up, “Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Apology accepted.”

Grantaire could do nothing but blink in confusion as he was led out of the apartment. The door slammed shut behind him.

Grumbling a “fuck you, Enjolras,” Grantaire speeded down the hallway, praying no one would see his hard-on before he had a chance to fix it.

Chapter Text

It was these somewhat unfortunate circumstances that led to Grantaire’s current predicament - wide-awake at 3 in the goddamn morning. Of course, the man was already up, a night owl by nature. However, he was planning on going to sleep. That is, until a familiar name appeared on his phone screen. He answered the call without a moment’s hesitation, cursing himself for being so needy.

Making up for his obvious and embarrassing eagerness, Grantaire schooled his voice into some semblance of neutral, “What do you want?”

Enjolras chuckled from his side of the phone. “Not even a “hello,” huh? Did no one teach you manners growing up?”

“Considering the fact that I am tired and want to go to bed, all previous teachings are out the window. Now, what is it?”

“I just have a quick question,” Grantaire could hear the smirk in Enjolras’ voice, “What are you wearing?”

“Jesus,” Grantaire muttered, a hand going up to swipe down his face. Only Enjolras would do these things. “Flannel pajamas and an old shirt from a fast food chain I worked at. Happy?”

“Oh, come on! You’re no fun.” Enjolras pouted. “You were supposed to be the fun one.”

“You wound me,” Grantaire deadpanned, “Call a phone sex line and let me go back to bed.” There was a long pause as Enjolras remained silent. Thinking he had won out, Grantaire moved to end the call, until Enjolras’ gravelly voice came through the receiver.

“But I like the way you sound, R, when you let out those little breathy gasps.” Grantaire froze as Enjolras continued. “The way you moan against my mouth,” Enjolras teased. “It’s cute, how you always try to stay silent when I start fucking you, but become a whiny mess by the end.” Grantaire swallowed, the blood rushing in his ears almost too loud to hear Enjolras’ words.

“We both know you love it, the way I take you apart so easily. So pliant under my palms. So willing to please. You’re such a slut, it would be almost sweet if it wasn’t just goddamn pathetic.” Enjolras chuckled lowly, and it went straight to Grantaire’s spine. “You’re enjoying this too, aren’t you? Being degraded and insulted like the filthy nympho you are.”

Grantaire remained speechless. After all, what do you say to that? Yes, Enjolras, you’re right. I love being your needy little fuck-toy. Humiliate me. Embarrass me until I cry. God. He was already straining in his pants at just the idea of being fucked by Enjolras.

Figuring his silence was acceptance, Enjolras continued. “I like the way your muscles clench around me. I like the whine you give when you’re being edged, a mix of sobbing and moaning choked out of you. I especially like the way you look after I’m through with you.”

Grantaire’s breath came heavy on his side of the receiver, still not speaking. He dragged a feather-light finger along the outline in his pants, hating how he wished it was Enjolras.

Enjolras, obviously becoming somewhat annoyed at Grantaire’s lack of response, groaned, “I know you’re not asleep, ‘Taire. I can hear you breathing.”

“That wouldn’t mean I’m not asleep, just not dead.” Grantaire could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was gravelly, but at least he wasn’t slurring his words.

A sharp exhale of breath, what Grantaire has come to recognize as Enjolras’s way of laughing, comes through the phone. A short silence lapsed, then came Enjolras’s drawling voice, “What are you thinking about?”

“The multiple alarms I am going to sleep through tomorrow morning if you don’t let me get to bed.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. Grantaire was! But much more concerning than that was how much he wanted to be used by Enjolras. Pathetic, yes, but completely fair if he had anything to say about it.

Enjolras hummed lightly. “Would you like to know what I’m thinking about?” Without giving Grantaire a chance to respond, he continued, “I’m thinking about your hair. About pulling on it, more specifically. The way your hands clench the bedsheets. Have I ever told you how much I love your knuckles? Especially when they’re inside you.” Grantaire could hear Enjolras’s breathing speed up, a tell-tale sign as to what he was doing at that moment.

Without even thinking, Grantaire gasped, “Facetime me,” and hung up the call. He practically ripped his pajama pants off, answering the phone as soon as it started ringing. Immediately, Grantaire was blessed with the sight of a completely naked Enjolras, his phone being held up above him with one hand, the other already working on his boner.

Holy fucking shit, Grantaire thought to himself, I could die and be perfectly happy.

“Looks like someone’s excited to see me,” drawled Enjolras.

“Hey, you were the one who called me,” Grantaire shot back, taking himself in hand. He was glad his face was already flushed, the scarlet hue traveling down his neck. “Horny, much?” His eyes closed, quickly losing himself in his imagination.

“Oh, babe,” Enjolras cooed, at which Grantaire’s breath stopped, “For you, always.” It would be an understatement to say Grantaire choked. “Don’t play innocent now, brat. It’s obvious that deep down, you want to be pounded like a whore.” Grantaire bit his lip, quickening his pace. With Enjolras’s voice coming loudly from the speaker, he could almost believe the other man was there. He placed his phone on the side of the bed next to him, propping it up against his pillow.

Grantaire opened his eyes to glare at Enjolras through the phone screen. “Your degrader kink fits you, asshole.”

Glaring back, Enjolras pulled the phone towards his face. “Your degradee kink fits you, cumslut.” Grantaire twitched, closing his eyes once more. He would be lying if he said that the name did nothing for him. “Does it not, cumslut?” Grantaire visibly swallowed, cheeks burning, so embarrassed, but so, so turned on. He placed his phone on the side of the bed next to him, propping it up against his pillow.

“Hey, look at me,” Enjolras commanded, his voice suddenly turning serious. Grantaire, fucked as he was, complied without a moment’s hesitation. “I asked you a question.”

The gears in Grantaire’s brain started turning. Grinding harshly into his palm, he muttered, “Stating the obvious, I see.”

“Grantaire, don’t make me punish you.” The brunette smiled. Now this was what he wanted. His stomach dropped delightfully, excited and nervous at the same time.

“You aren’t here, you can’t do anything.” He shut his eyes, living for the animalistic growl Enjolras made. Slicked up with pre-cum, Grantaire’s hand slid fast and heavy across his member, the obscene sound permeating the room. He panted, warm breath fanning out across his sensitive skin.

“Oh, can’t I? Just wait until I see you next.”

Grantaire opened one eye in surprise, smiling lopsidedly, “Is that a threat?” He didn’t miss the way Enjolras’s eyes narrowed; it would have gone unnoticed had Grantaire not known to look for it.

“Yes, and it’s not an empty one.”

“Good, I would hope so.” The very idea of punishment excited Grantaire, which shows quite clearly his sense of self-preservation.

A low whine sneaked out from Enjolras’s lips as he muttered, “It’s surprising how much of a whore you are.” From this angle, Grantaire could see Enjolras’s tan hand pulling desperately along his member, the way his stomach tightened, flexing in anticipation.

“You like it, though.” Grantaire noticed how Enjolras consciously said nothing in response.

The coil inside his gut tightened, climax within reach. “I’m close,” He cried out, craving sweet release, “Enj-“

“Cum for me, baby.” Enjolras sounded just as wrecked as Grantaire, the words airy and whining.

That was the final straw, and Grantaire came with a start, unable to hold back a throaty moan as red-hot light flooded his eyesight. Stroking himself through it, the sticky white substance covered his hand and stomach. Moments later, Grantaire heard the familiar sound of Enjolras’s orgasm, the way his breathing hitched, the slightest keeling sound escaping his lips.

After a few moments of catching his breath, Grantaire opened his eyes to look at Enjolras. He took a moment to openly admire that long expanse of smooth skin and taut muscles, since Enjolras’s lids were still closed. It required all of Grantaire’s willpower to not prostrate himself right there and declare his loyalty to Enjolras.

Grantaire’s fantasy was abruptly cut off by the blonde’s raspy, sex-soaked voice. “Okay, I’m tired. Night, R.”

“Wait-“ Grantaire couldn’t even finish the word before Enjolras hung up the phone. “Goddamnit.”

He looked around the room, at the mess he made, at his alarm clock, and sighed. “I gotta stop doing this to myself. No more answering booty calls.” It was as if Grantaire thought saying it aloud would somehow set it in stone. It was a start, however ludicrous and insanely naive, a start.

Of course, he managed to break his own rule within 72 hours. Truly, who could blame him?

Chapter Text

“Please, please, please, please, please,” Incoherent phrases fell from Grantaire’s lips. His vision was swimming, unable to think about anything but the man in front of him. Edging him relentlessly for nearly an hour, it didn’t look like Enjolras had any plans to stop soon. Grantaire’s legs were already spread open, a fully-clothed Enjolras kneeling between them.

Enjolras stopped his careful ministrations, “Please, what?” A sob ripped from Grantaire’s throat, hot tears spilling from his eyes. “No need to cry about it, baby. Just tell me what you want.”

It was too late; the tears had already started. 

“Just fuck me, please ,” Grantaire’s voice cracked as Enjolras continued, his hand barely glancing along Grantaire’s over-sensitive dick, just enough to keep him entertained as the latter squirmed in his restraints. 

“Aw, begging for it already? I thought you wanted to take things slow.”

A teary-eyed Grantaire looked pleadingly at Enjolras, who did nothing but smile devilishly. Grantaire was so needy, a hand simply tracing down his arm had him sighing and pulling at the ribbons encircling his wrists. 

Enjolras hummed disapprovingly at that and took an unnecessarily long time tightening them, making sure there was no way for Grantaire to get himself loose. Reaching out, Enjolras twisted his fingers around an unruly lock of Grantaire’s hair and pulled . “Oh, angel, you’re so beautiful like this. Tied up, just for me.” 

A fresh wave of tears spilled from Grantaire’s eyes as he let out a shuddering sigh, only vaguely aware of Enjolras’s fingers trailing down his chest. His dick jumped as Enjolras tweaked a nipple. Ghosting over Grantaire’s flushed skin, Enjolras began quickly stroking Grantaire’s member.

Golden hair fell in front of Enjolras’s face as he leaned over Grantaire’s torso to wipe away a stray tear. “What do you need, sweetheart?” Grantaire just whined and lifted his hips into the air, trying to get more friction. “Oh, you want to come? Is that it? Use your words, doll.”

“ Yes. ” He was so close already, just a little longer -

“Not until you say “please” prettily enough.”

Grantaire’s voice was hoarse, cracking as he choked out, “Pl-ease.” Tears were streaming freely down the sides of his face

“No, not quite. C’mon, I know you can do it.”

Grantaire sobbed, unable to help it. He could feel his orgasm fast approaching, attempting to hold it back was futile. He was too far gone. “Pl-” He broke off with a whine as he came into Enjolras's palm. 

When Grantaire came down from his high and opened his eyes, Enjolras’s steely blue gaze was dark. “I didn’t give you permission, did I?” His words were clipped, cutting straight through Grantaire’s temporary brain fog. The soft voice from before had vanished entirely. 

“Uh… N-”

“No. I didn’t.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you will be.”

Enjolras unzipped his pants just enough to let his already-hard cock spring out from its confines. Slicked up somewhat with pre-cum, he didn’t even give Grantaire a moment’s notice before harshly thrusting all the way in. Grantaire howled, vision going white, as he felt himself being split open at an unforgiving pace. 

The familiar burn turned into pleasure as Enjolras continued. Rutting shallowly into Grantaire, Enjolras growled lowly into his ear, “You’re just a toy for my amusement. I wouldn’t soon forget that if I were you.” 

Pulling on his restraints did nothing. Grantaire was under Enjolras’s control entirely. He was putty. He whined as Enjolras pressed his hands down on his hips, fingerprints surely leaving bruises with the pressure. 

Biting harshly at Grantaire’s shoulder, Enjolras pulled out nearly to the tip before slamming back in, and began repeatedly doing so. Grantaire could do nothing but take it, crying out whenever Enjolras hit his prostate. “There, just like that. You’re perfect,” Enjolras sighed, “You’re being so good for me.” 

Enjolras’s pace became faster, more haphazard as he got closer to climax. His hips stuttered as he came, fucking Grantaire through his orgasm. Cum dripped out of Grantaire with every thrust, the sensation of being filled pushing him over the edge as he came seconds later. 

The sound of their breathing filled the room. 

Enjolras pulled out with a hiss and Grantaire gasped at the immediate feeling of emptiness. Enjolras wiped himself off on a dirty T-shirt then got to work untying the ribbons from around Grantaire’s wrists and ankles. As soon as he was done, Enjolras muttered, “I’m gonna take a shower. You know where the door is.”

Grantaire just lay there for a bit, trying to comprehend the past two hours. The sound of water hitting skin woke him out of his stupor as he realized two things. 

The first, he hated himself for loving Enjolras, and the second, there was dry cum all over him.

Chapter Text

Grantaire often pondered the nature of their relationship. They were hardly even friends, so “friends with benefits” didn’t quite fit their dynamic. Individual-who’s-hot-but-also-god-awful-annoying? Fuckbuddy-I-met-through-mutual-friends? Whatever. Grantaire wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He sprawled across the couch at the Cafe, lazily swiping through his phone. “Les Amis,” as they called themselves, were situated on various bean bags or benches discussing their latest escapades. He felt somewhat bad for the owners of the coffee shop after it had become the unofficial meeting place for the large group, however, no one seemed to mind. 

Grantaire continued his mindless routine. Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, email, repeat. Swipe, swipe, swipe and swipe. That is, until he was briefly interrupted by Eponine pushing his legs off the couch so she could flop down in their place. Shooting a glare at her over his phone, Grantaire looked back down to a text from literally the last person he would expect.

My Apollyon: Hey, I’m gonna be late

....and you’re texting me because????

My Apollyon: So you can tell the Amis??? Thought that was obvious R

i do not have your number as far as any of them know

just text combeferre or courfeyrac?

My Apollyon: First of all, why wouldn’t you have my number? And also please just do it

hm.

okay.

but only because you said please and i don’t think you’ve ever said that before

good job, must’ve taken some effort

My Apollyon: Oh fuck you

wouldn’t you like to, darling

Sighing, Grantaire put his phone down and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Enjolras is going to be late, y’all!” He saw as confusion briefly colored each of Les Amis’ faces, then everyone just went back to what they were doing, i.e. yelling at one another over coffee and playing Uno using a Bicycle deck. Somehow. It was best to just not question it.

Eponine nudged Grantaire’s foot with her own. “I didn’t know he had your number.” Grantaire just shrugged noncommittally and looked back down at his phone.

My Apollyon: Don’t tempt me

;)

“Okay, what’s up?” Eponine pinched the side of Grantaire’s leg, “I just watched the seven stages of grief pass over your face. What happened?”

“What? Oh, nothing, I’m good.” Grantaire quickly put his phone away, seeing how Eponine was eyeing it suspiciously. She glared at him for a moment but let the matter drop. 

“What do you think they’re going to talk about today?”

“I don’t know. Don’t care.” Grantaire wasn’t a part of Les Amis, not really, anyways. He was simply the group’s artist, who designed their posters and logos. Les Amis was technically a college-sponsored club, but they liked to think of themselves as a “community support group,” whatever the hell that meant, and hung up their propaganda on pretty much any clean wall space. 

“I think the topic this month is about low-income students.”

“Oh, so literally every single one of us?” Eponine shoved him lightly for that.  

Enjolras rushed in, out of breath, papers sticking haphazardly out of his bag. His usually meticulously coiffed hair was mussed, sun-kissed skin more ruddy than usual, tie untucked, and holy fuck, Grantaire nearly wolf-whistled. Ah, yes, this was the reason he showed up to the meetings. To openly ogle at literally the hottest person he’d ever seen. God, he was so close to drooling. 

“Sorry I’m late, everyone, lecture ran longer than usual.” Enjolras pushed his hair back as he looked at the clock above the doorway. “Shit. Okay, a lot longer than usual. Guess it’ll be a short meeting today. Everyone okay with that?”

The chorus of “yes’s” can barely be heard over Grantaire’s “Thank fuck,” which, admittedly, was louder than he had anticipated. 

Enjolras was right - it was a short meeting. They went over their next project outline, threw out some quick reminders, and then they were done. Grantaire may or may not have made a paper airplane with the latest itinerary, and may or may not have managed to land it perfectly on Enjolras’s head. On accident, of course. 

Everyone knew it was coming to an end when Enjolras threw out his traditional closing line, “Any questions?”

Grantaire raised his hand, to everyone’s amusement. Everyone but Enjolras, who was understandably tired of Grantaire’s bullshit at that point. There was only so much he could deal with in a day. He sighed, knowing it was inevitable, and waved a tired hand at the man. 

“Okay, so the thing that doesn’t make sense to me here is why we’re doing a fundraiser?”

“As I explained earl-” 

“The only people who would come out to this would be other students, and as we’ve seen, most of the student body is low-income and only attending due to scholarships. So, who exactly would be spending money here?” 

“We’ll have to market it to the alumni.”

“Oh,” Grantaire stood up off the couch now, walking closer to Enjolras, “Because people who already spent their life paying off their debt are going to give more money to the place that put them in debt. Sounds totally legit, right?”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras groaned. 

He put his hands up in mock innocence, leaning against the coffee bar where Enjolras sat, “You asked if anyone had questions.”

It was a valid argument, Enjolras would give him that. Grantaire was just so goddamn annoying about it. “Yeah, yeah, okay. I get it. I’ll get back to you on that, but right now you’re giving me a headache.”

“Aw,” Granraire cooed, “Thank you!”

Eponine piped up from the couch. “If you two are just about finished with your weird flirting, can we go now?”

“We are not flirting,” Grantaire bit out, turning to glare at her. 

“I hate to say it, but I agree with him,” Enjolras deadpanned. “Yes, you can leave. Meeting adjourned.”

Grantaire all but beelined for the bathroom, not without first throwing Enjolras a ridiculously over-the-top wink. Enjolras only rolled his eyes at Grantaire’s antics, too tired to retaliate. 

“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” 

Grantaire’s stomach dropped: Enjolras’s voice was dangerous. 

Finally . 

Needless to say, Grantaire wasn’t one for self-preservation. “Taking a piss, the hell does it look like?” A shiver ran down his spine as he heard the soft click of a lock being turned. Taking his time to finish up, Grantaire couldn’t help but relish in the way his gut twisted in a delightful mix of fear and excitement. 

He could feel as Enjolras stalked up behind him. It wasn’t the way someone would walk if they were trying to get somewhere. It was a challenge. He didn’t do anything, though, just stood facing Grantaire’s back.

“That urinal is free if you need to use it,” Grantaire muttered after a few seconds, nodding his head to the side. 

“Why do you have to always behave like that? Do you have, like, a fucking bingo sheet? How can I piss off Enjolras today? What is up with you? What happened?”

“Oh? Do I hear a hint of concern? Is Monsieur Enjy worried about me?” Grantaire teased, mouth lifting into a grin as he turned around, “How lucky am I, that today of all days, I have been blessed by his caring presence!”

“I can’t deal with you right now.” Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose. With a sigh, he turned on his heel, making for the door. 

“What?” That was an unexpected development. Normally, when Grantaire pissed Enjolras off enough, he’d get a little punishment (or reward, depending on how you looked at it). So this, Enjolras just leaving, was not exactly normal. “Where are you going?”

“Home, the hell does it look like?” Enjolras parroted, unlocking the door to the bathroom. 

“But-!”

“But, what?” Enjolras raised an eyebrow, “Aw, is Grantaire going to throw a tantrum because he isn’t getting what he wants? Too bad.” Now this was especially not normal. Enjolras wasn’t mean. Often. He was a little bit mean, but this was uncharted territory of behavior. 

“Hey,” Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s wrist before he could open the door. “I’m sorry, alright? I wasn’t trying to push you this far. Are you okay? You seem really upset about something.”

“I’m fine . Now let go.” 

Grantaire’s grip only tightened. “Not until you tell me what’s bothering you."

“Goddamnit, R, just leave me alone! This has nothing to do with you!” 

“You’re upset about something, though! Just let me help!”

“If I tell you, will you shut up?”

“Tell me and find out.”

Enjolras sighed once more, leaning against the door, “It has to do with my family.” 

Oh. Oh. Enjolras never talked about his family. Grantaire had assumed a Batman-like situation due to how well he kept it under lock and key, but Combferre had said his parents were rich elitists and the like. 

“Care to elaborate on that? Seems pretty vague.”

Enjolras looked pained, more upset than Grantaire had ever seen him. “You know, the usual. My parents threatened to disown me, like they do every year.”

Grantaire stayed silent. After all, how do you respond to that? ‘I’m sorry’ just didn’t seem to cut it. 

“Happy?” Enjolras asked, shaking his arm out of Grantaire’s grasp. “Are we done here?”

Ah, here was Grantaire’ chance. “Not in the slightest,” He answered, snaking his arm behind Enjolras to close the lock once more. He leaned in, palm placed on the door to thwart Enjolras’s escape. Pulling on the still-untucked tie, Grantaire purred, “Don’t you want to relieve some of that stress? You’re looking so high-strung.” 

Cocking an eyebrow up in question, Grantaire wrapped his fingers around the silk material as he waited. He loved when Enjolras wore button-up shirts. Enjolras had a habit of rolling the sleeves up to his elbows, showing off his fantastic arms. Maybe Grantaire should replace his closet with only button-ups.

Enjolras leaned back against the door, pulling Grantaire against him. “Now, ‘Taire, you really shouldn’t take advantage of me like this,” Enjolras teased, allowing himself to play along, “I’ve just told you about something dear to my heart and now you’re wanting to fuck? I’m hurt. Am I just a dildo to you?” 

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Enjy, some dildos vibrate.” Grantaire looked up through his lashes at Enjolras, the picture of innocence. “And if I had the choice, I think I’d prefer something a little bit longer.” Enjolras snorted at that and started undoing his tie. 

“If I remember correctly, weren’t you the one begging for it? Weren’t you the one being so obnoxiously annoying today just for a quick fuck? You aren’t nearly as subtle as you think you are.” Embarrassed at having been found out, Grantaire hid his head in Enjolras’s neck, hands going up to unbutton the top of Enjolras’s shirt. He kissed the few inches of exposed skin, awash in strange familiarity, and considered himself lucky for having the ability to do so. Maybe not all the time, maybe not whenever he wanted, but it was enough to have Enjolras in his arms every once in a while. 

“Oh, is someone getting shy now?” Enjolras cooed, free hand ghosting along the nape of Grantaire’s neck. Deft fingers knotted themselves into ink-black curls. “That’s cute,” He said, and harshly pulled Grantaire’s head back, keeping him in place. 

Enjolras lightly kissed the corner of Grantaire’s mouth, delighting in the subsequent pout that teasing had earned him. Enjolras took his time, kissing his way over to the sensitive spot below Grantaire’s ear before biting at it. “Are you going to behave today?”

“Are you going to fuck me sometime this century?” Grantaire retorted, as he pushed a leg in between Enjolras’s thighs, “I think I could fall asleep before we actually get anywhere.”

At that, Enjolras gave in and kissed him fully, finally letting himself be reckless. He harshly bit at Grantaire’s bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound and tasting iron. Grantaire groaned, unable to process anything. He could vaguely feel himself being pushed backwards, felt the chill of the marble sink as his hands made contact, a warm palm cupping his cheek. 

Enjolras pulled away, spinning Grantaire around to face the mirror, the action so fast Grantaire didn’t even have time to protest. In one clean motion, Enjolras pulled Grantaire’s pants down to his thighs, not even caring to unbutton them. 

“Who’s taking advantage of who, now?” Grantaire grumbled, staring at Enjolras through the mirror. Enjolras pressed a palm down on Grantaire’s shoulders, making him bend at the waist, the other hand going back into the soft, dark curls. 

Grabbing a fistful of hair, Enjolras retorted, “This is all your fault, you know. This wouldn’t be happening if you held your tongue.” He rocked forward, only slightly, but Grantaire could feel his clothed erection hard against the soft tissue of his ass. 

“Ha,” Grantaire sighed, pressing his forehead into the countertop, “That-that’s mean, Enj.” 

Enjolras hummed noncommittally, dragging his hand down to lightly pinch Grantaire’s bottom. “Yes, and your point is?” Grantaire didn’t respond to that, only shifted onto his toes to give Enjolras better access. He pointedly wiggled his ass at the latter, hoping he’d get on with it. “Always in a rush, I see.” 

Grantaire raised his head to glare at Enjolras. “If we take too long it’ll be suspicious. Now come on, pick up the pace.” Enjolras supposed he was right. It would look suspicious if the bathrooms were locked for a long time.  

“Whatever happened to preparation?” Enjolras asked, “Anal fissures don’t sound fun.” Grantaire could hear the telltale sound of a button coming undone, and a condom wrapper being ripped open. 

“Oh my god, don’t even start. I’m trying to get fucked and you’re over here talking about anal fissures.”

“I’m just saying! I don’t even have lube.”

At that, Grantaire straightened back up to a standing position and grabbed Enjolras’s hand. Staring at him through the mirror, Grantaire opened his mouth to let his tongue dart out and slick up the tanned digits. He placed open-mouthed kisses on the calluses, sucking on Enjolras’s fingers until deeming them good enough. He settled back down onto the sink, pillowing his head on his forearms. “There you go. Now get on with it.”

As loud-mouthed as he was, Grantaire still jolted a little at the feeling of a fingertip at his entrance. Enjolras teased, “Aw, have you decided to stop being a little brat?”

“Dunno, why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Enjolras pushed in further, careful to not miss the way Grantaire’s face twisted at the intrusion. He’d never admit it, but that was the image he liked best. 

Grantaire’s muscles clenched, back becoming rigid underneath the frayed t-shirt he wore. Enjolras gave him a second to breathe, to adjust to the feeling, before adding another finger. With his free hand, he brushed Grantaire’s hair back. “I want to see your face, ‘Taire.”

“Taking liberties, I see.” He ducked his head down, naively hoping Enjolras didn’t notice the very obvious flush staining his cheeks. “How much longer are you going to take back there?”

“So demanding,” Enjolras laughed. “Do you think you’re ready?”

“I’ve been ready, get with the picture, Enj.”

At long last, Enjolras finally did as he was told, surprisingly. He removed his hand, lining himself up. He pressed in with a long slide, simultaneously pulling Grantaire against him. Grantaire’s eyes fluttered shut, he loved Enjolras’s rare shows of possessiveness. He could almost convince himself they were more than what they were. 

It took Enjolras all of a minute to find Grantaire’s prostate, having had quite a lot of practice. Once he found it, Grantaire almost wished he hadn’t. He braced himself against the sink, pillowing his head on his forearms.

“Look at yourself,” Enjolras grinned as he thrust into Grantaire, Grantaire let out a traitorous noise when he hit the nerves straight on. “Shut up. You don’t want everyone to know what a little whore you are, now, do you?”

Enjolras’s speed was harsh and fast, brushing that bundle of nerves every time he snapped his hips in. With Grantaire’s chest flush against the porcelain sink, his toes left the ground just barely with every thrust. 

Grantaire couldn’t help it. So what if he did want everyone to know that he was being fucked by Apollo incarnate, who could blame him? It wasn’t his fault. He laid his head down once more, awash in the sensation. 

 “Tired already?”

Grantaire looked up at Enjolras, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “Not tired, bored. You can do better than that, can’t you?” Again, not one for self-preservation.

“You piss me off.”

“I aim to please, after all.” Grantaire cupped his chin in his palm. “You’re smiling, I know you like it.”

Enjolras schooled his expression back to a disinterested neutral and pulled out completely, only to slam back in wordlessly, as if daring Grantaire to say something. 

“That,” Grantaire gasped, “Do that again.”

“You aren’t in charge here,” Enjolras stated, but as he pulled out his hands still found their way to Grantaire’s hips. 

“Then why does it seem like you’re doing exactly as I say?”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “Stop talking.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean stop talki- Ngh!” Enjolras’s hand went to cover Grantaire’s mouth as he thrust all the way back into him. Frankly, Grantaire couldn’t even be mad about that. If Enjolras hadn’t, the entire block might’ve known what was happening. 

“You were getting too loud, sweetheart,” Enjolras smiled as he continued his long slide in and out, burning up every protest Grantaire could think of. 

That smile, the wisps of curly hair falling around his face, Enjolras was the definition of beautiful, and Grantaire could feel his mounting climax build with every blink of those golden lashes. 

The feeling of Enjolras all around him, the way that he hit Grantaire’s prostate with every thrust, the hand over his mouth - it was all so much, and Grantaire didn’t even have time to warn Enjolras before he was painting white streaks on the cold, bathroom floor. 

Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s jaw, forcing him to look up into the mirror. Enjolras’s stare was neutral, boring straight through Grantaire. “Just from that, really? I haven’t even touched you yet.” He let go, trailing his hand down Grantaire’s back. Mean as he was, Enjolras was pleased, if the barely bit back smile was anything to go by. 

The warmth behind Grantaire left as Enjolras moved away to finish in the toilet. 

“Hey,” Grantaire turned, keeping him in place. “I could help. With that, I mean.” Before Enjolras could answer, Grantaire fell to his knees, running his hands down the back of Enjolras’s legs as he went. His thighs ached, burning delightfully. “Something for you, something for me. Who needs charity?” He smiled as he rolled off the condom. 

Enjolras was hard, every inch of skin flushed red and burning. Grantaire pressed a kiss into Enjolras’s hip bone, looking up as he did so. 

Enjolras very rarely lost his composure - always maintaining his usual facial expression, voice never faltering. Grantaire wished he had that level of control, but alas. 

Now, however, the cracks were forming. He looked like he had no idea what to do. Grantaire paused,“Is this okay?” He had never seen Enjolras look so unsure of himself, one hand pressed to his throat, the other grabbing for the wall that was currently out of reach. 

“I’ve nev-” He broke himself off, scratching a hand through his golden hair. 

Grinning, Grantaire ran his palms along the sides of Enjolras’s legs. “You’re gonna have to talk louder than that, doll.” 

Enjolras pouted, looking anywhere but Grantaire. “I’ve never done this before.” Now that was surprising. 

“Ah,” Grantaire got up from his knees, only to feel the pressure of Enjolras’s hands on his shoulders. 

“W-wait. That do-doesn’t mean that I don’t want it.” Enjolras’s face was completely red now, flustered by his confession. 

Grantaire almost laughed, it was strange to see Enjolras embarrassed. “I know, I’m just moving us around. Now back up.”

With Enjolras’s back pressed up against the wall, Grantaire continued where he left off, with another bruising kiss into Enjolras’s hip bone. 

“Hey,” Grantaire paused, tapping his fingers on the side of Enjolras’s thigh, “Relax. I’m going to take good care of you, okay?” He didn’t think it was possible, but the blush covering Enjolras’s face deepened even more. With a laugh, Grantaire said, “Cute,” warm breath fanning out over Enjolras’s already-flushed skin. 

Training his gaze on the man, Grantaire’s tongue darted out to lick a stripe down the side of Enjolras’s member. A sharp gasp of breath accompanied with an approving hand on Grantaire’s shoulder told him everything he needed to know. 

Swallowing him down, Grantaire kept a watchful eye on every movement Enjolras made. A twitch as he hollowed his cheeks, a sigh as he tongued the head. He swirled his tongue around, desperate to know everything Enjolras liked. 

“R,” Enjolras mumbled in warning. Every muscle clenched, hands pressed against Grantaire’s shoulders insistently.

He only hummed around Enjolras, knowing exactly what was about to happen. Instead of pulling away, Grantaire bobbed his head forward, wanting every bit he could take. Enjolras’s cock touched the back of his throat, and with a choked noise, he was cumming. 

Grantaire’s mouth filled with the taste of bitter salt as he swallowed down every drop of Enjolras, eyes transfixed on the way the blond was looking at him. Maybe he should do this more often. He pulled away, wiping at his mouth. 

The bathroom was quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing. Enjolras offered Grantaire a hand up off the floor. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Less mess, you know?” Grantaire joked, standing. His voice was gravelly, mouth sure to be hurting later. “But, really, I wanted to. I hope that's okay?”

Enjolras’s expression caught him off-guard. It was, dare he say it, starstruck . Bright eyes, large pupils, full lips parted, Grantaire didn’t know whether to think he looked beautiful or obscene. A mix of both, he figured. 

Enjolras pulled Grantaire against him, kissing him senseless, seemingly determined to chase away everything but the smooth glide of their mouths. Grantaire was enveloped in Enjolras, it was as if nothing else existed. 

Unexpectedly, Enjolras pressed a quick kiss to the top of the man’s head, muttering out a soft, “Thank you,” and Grantaire’s knees nearly gave out. He just got fucked, it was a perfectly normal reaction. 

Enjolras bent down with a paper towel to clean up Grantaire’s mess, as expected of such a law-abiding citizen. It was nice of him; if Grantaire bent down, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up. He appreciated the gesture, as well as the curve of Enjolras’s ass as he did so. But mostly the gesture. Partially.

Chapter Text

They agreed to leave the bathroom separately, so as not to seem suspicious. As if the bathroom being locked wasn’t in itself suspicious. 

Once Grantaire heard the little ding! signaling the door had been opened, he left, making a show of drying his hands on his pants. 

Walking up to the counter to order a coffee, he pretended not to see the amused looks from the baristas. The workers were nice enough. No doubt it must be annoying that the Amis take over their dining room once a week. 

The girl at the register took his order normally, and Grantaire inwardly sighed in relief. It looks like no one noticed and he wouldn’t have to go dig himself a grave. He looked at her name tag and ah, yes, Cosette. This was the girl Marius had a ridiculous crush on.

“So,” The girl, no - Cosette - raised her eyebrows after taking his card, “Blonds, huh?”

Grantaire coughed, face flushing. “What are you talking about?” 

“Dude. I work here almost every day. You and that… Greek-god-looking guy.” Her eyes widened, “Wait. Did you two think you were being sneaky?”

“Yes!” He sighed, putting his card back into his wallet. “Is it really that obvious?”

Cosette shrugged, “I pay attention.” She turned around and called, “We were right, ‘Chetta!”

Someone, “‘Chetta,” Grantaire figured, laughed and said, “Pay up,” much to the chagrin of those around her. 

“Wait, what? Were you just guessing?”

“Eh, it was more of a hypothesis than a full-fledged theory,” She handed Grantaire two cups, muttering, “This one’s on us. We’ve embarrassed you enough.”

“But I only want the one?”

“Are you complaining over free coffee?”

Grantaire narrowed his eyes, “Touche.” It made sense that Marius liked her; she was practically everything he wasn’t. She was pretty and quick-witted, and Grantaire desperately wanted to know how Marius would handle that combo.

A coffee cup in each hand, he threatened Cosette and her coworkers into secrecy and went on his way. The familiar chime of the door echoed behind him as he walked out into the winter air, breath immediately fogging up in front of him. 

Also in front of him was that ridiculously golden hair he knew so well. Enjolras was sitting on the bus stop bench, back to Grantaire. Now the coffee thing made sense. Grantaire turned around to glare through the windows at the register, where Cosette only smiled and gave him a thumbs-up.  

He cleared his throat and asked, “Are you planning on taking the bus?”

Enjolras jumped, clearly startled, but turned around to face him. “Uh, yeah? Why else would I be waiting at the stop?”

“All this time, you’ve been taking the bus to get everywhere.” It was more of a statement than a question. 

“Yeah? It’s too cold outside right now to ride my bike, so the bus it is. Or I catch a ride with Combeferre.” Enjolras riding a bike was a nice image, Grantaire would admit, but it wasn’t the most pressing thing at the moment.

“Can I ask why you don’t have a car?”

“Can I ask why you have two coffee cups?”

“You first.”

“They’re bad for the environment, they’re expensive, automobile companies are inherently evil, want me to go on?”

“Stop, please. I get it.” Grantaire lifted his cup, shuffling awkwardly. “They made too many so I got this one for free. Want it? I don’t need this much caffeine.” Enjolras narrowed his eyes at the man, but reached for the drink anyways. “Do you- do you want a ride? Your place is on the way, it wouldn’t be a hassle.”

 Enjolras curled his hands around the cup, glancing upwards. “Why would you do that?”

“No funny business, I promise!” Grantaire held one hand up in salute, and grinned, “Scouts’ honor.” Seeing that his little show didn’t dissuade the questioning look from Enjolras, he sighed, “Look. We’re friends, aren’t we? It would be cruel to just leave you here out in the cold.” He pulled his jacket tighter around him, the thin fabric doing nothing against the winter air. “If I have the means to help those I care about, then why not?”

Enjolras’s cheeks were flushed.

“See?” Grantaire said, “Your face is already red from the cold.”

“Y-yeah. The cold.” 

Grantaire liked to see Enjolras out of his element. He was always so sure of himself, knew exactly what to do and where he was at all times. Every little movement was planned out, the space he occupied was well-learned. There were moments, though, in which he let his walls down and Grantaire could see the human underneath. Apparently, he let his walls come down in the passenger seat of an old Subaru Outback. 

Enjolras was - not pulled into himself, per se - but piled on top of himself. It was obvious in how he tried to take up as little space as possible. Legs pressed together, elbows against his side, hands gently cupping his coffee, Enjolras looked uncomfortable in more ways than one. 

Grantaire drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “Is everything okay?” He asked, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth. Inwardly cringing, he glanced quickly over at Enjolras, who was eyeing him curiously. “Sorry, that was a dumb question. Probably not.”

“I’m fine. I’m just… Taking everything in.” He took a sip of his drink, then commented, “I’m not sure why, but for some reason I didn’t expect you’d drive this kind of car.”

“This kind of car? Oh, my, are you car-racist?” Grantaire grinned, flipping on his turn signal, “I’ll have you know that Gertrude is a wonderful woman.”

Enjolras snorted, “Gertrude?” Flapping a hand in Grantaire’s direction, he continued, “And I don’t mean it like that. I guess I just expected something like a BMW. Something fast.”

“I seem like a fast car driver to you?”

“M-hm.” Enjolras smiled as he glanced about the car, “But Gertrude fits, too. And of course you’re one of those cassette snobs.” He tapped a finger on the stereo system. “It’s a Queen album, isn’t it?” The moment he said that, ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ started lightly crackling through the speakers. Enjolras cackled, something very unheard of for him, but welcome nonetheless. “It seems I am correct.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Grantaire bit back a smile. “Look at me, of course it’s a Queen album.” He spared a glance over at Enjolras, gauging his reactions. “Hey, uh. About your parents. Do you want to talk about it? Um, you don’t have to, obviously, just if you want to-”

“As I said, it’s a yearly thing. Disowning.” Enjolras immediately looked like he was miles away. A line creased his forehead, eyebrows tangling tightly together. The silence lapsed, and Grantaire figured that was all he’d get out of Enjolras, until he muttered, “I am the family disappointment, if that wasn’t clear.” He laughed, cocking his head to the side, “It is what it is, right?”

“Uh, no? Wrong? How are you the disappointment?”

“Well, I’m not taking over the family company, for one. That definitely doesn’t earn me any brownie points.” 

“That’s shitty, Enj.” Grantaire twisted his mouth together, “That shouldn’t make you the disappointment.” He looked at Enjolras, “I mean, come on , you’re funny, you’re attractive, you’re insanely smart. You’re the whole package. What’s not to l—-like.” Grantaire wasn’t thinking. That was obvious. He looked away from Enjolras, face burning. 

What the fuck! Grantaire was going to have a very stern talk with himself about his lack of a filter later. “Anyways, I-think-you’re-pretty-cool-and-also-a-really-great-person-okay-here’s-your-stop-bye!” He pulled in and parked in record speed, leaving Enjolras to pick up the pieces of his mental stability.

Enjolras didn’t seem embarrassed or upset, though. He was laughing . Once he had stopped, to Grantaire’s relief, he turned and smiled, “Thank you for today, Grantaire.”

“Hey, uh, ha.” Oh, shit. Grantaire laughed a little nervously, “It was just a blowjob, and mediocre at best. You don’t need to thank me or anything.” He quickly took a swig of the now-cold coffee so as to avoid the eye contact. 

Enjolras tapped on Grantaire’s arm, “Not that. Well, not just that. It wasn’t mediocre, by the way.” He pushed his hair back. “I don’t really… Talk? About my parents with anyone. So, thanks for letting me do so.” Enjolras opened the door, almost reluctantly. 

Grantaire’s car seats weren’t set for someone tall. It was funny to watch Enjolras clamber out, trying not to hit his head on the door frame. Finally free and clear, he leant his head down once more and smiled, “And I heard that last little bit. I think you’re pretty cool, too.”

Chapter Text

“Let’s watch a movie.” 

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “Are we actually going to watch a movie or is this just going to be playing in the background?”

“What do you mean?” Grantaire leveled an incredulous look at Enjolras, who immediately turned his face away. “Alright, point taken. Just watching a movie.” 

“I’ve literally spent so much money on things that I haven’t been able to watch because you just wanted to get your dick wet-” Grantaire was cut off by Enjolras flapping his hands in front of his face. 

“I get it, I get it! We’re just watching a movie, there’s a new one I wanted to see,” Enjolras said as he reached for the remote. He was already sprawled out across the couch, perfectly-proportioned limbs lazily draped along the seat. 

“Why don’t you just watch it by yourself, then?”

“And here I was, just beginning to think we were friends.” 

Grantaire only snorted and hit him in the face with a pillow. “You wish.” He felt kinda bad, though, at seeing the pouty look on Enjolras’s face. Pushing that emotion away, Grantaire only ran a hand through his hair and asked, “What are we watching then?”

“Interstellar! It’s about space travel, and like, dimensions, I think? To be entirely honest, I’m not sure but the cinematography looks cool, so I figured wh-” 

It was at that point where Grantaire lost track of the conversation. Naturally drawn towards movement, he’d been staring at Enjolras’s lips for that duration of time and found himself entranced. Who could blame him? Enjolras was the very picture of a Greek god, all sharp lines turned into something beautiful. His mouth was no exception to the rule. 

“Hey, R? You gonna sit down or something?” Grantaire was abruptly startled back into the present, both praising and cursing his interruptor. He glanced around at his less-than-ideal living room furnishings as the title music of the movie started to play. 

“If you’d move your legs, yeah. There’s nowhere else to sit.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said, glancing around at the room, then the couch. “No, you’re short enough. Just sit in my lap.” Grantaire didn’t even have time to respond before Enjolras pulled him down onto the couch. “See? Perfect fit.”

Of course, the angle meant that Grantaire fell face-first into Enjolras’s chest. He quickly adjusted his position until his back was to the other man’s chest, sitting so rigidly they were barely even touching. He could feel Enjolras's arms snaking around his chest. He pointedly ignored it, that is, until Enjolras pulled Grantaire against him. “You look like a statue, R. Everything alright?”

Grantaire didn’t understand why he was getting flustered. After all, they’ve already had sex. If anything, he should’ve been flustered about that. Something about this just felt too domestic . “Just peachy. Can you even see the screen?”

“Of course,” Enjolras’s warm breath fanned out across Grantaire’s neck. He tried to defy the chill that went down his spine, but couldn’t stop the goosebumps from forming. 

Grantaire could only mutter out, “I bet I’m crushing you.”

Enjolras snorted, “Oh, really? You’re, what, 5’9 on a good day? There’s no way you could crush me.”

Grantaire couldn’t argue with that, considering he was only 5’7. He cursed Enjolras’s parents for making him tall. Also, thanked them a bit, but that’s beside the point. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still weigh a lot.”

“Hey, quit it,” Enjolras admonished, “I could bench press you if I wanted to.”

As thrilling as that image was, Grantaire found himself wanting to change the subject. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to talk during the entire movie.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Grantaire flushed. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way Enjolras so casually said things like that. What the hell.

Grantaire really wanted to see this movie. He did! He was genuinely enjoying the plot so far. There just happened to be a marginally better option within reach. Marginally. 

He was fully in Enjolras’s lap now, and it was so easy, it was almost a joke. All he had to do was innocently adjust his position, wiggling his ass a perfectly normal amount, until Enjolras lost all composure and fucked him on the coffee table. With victory so close in sight, it was a no-brainer. Fate was daring Grantaire and who is he to back down from a challenge? 

He scooted backwards in Enjolras’s lap, just slightly more pointed than necessary. Harmless, really, and as it turned out, fruitless. When that did nothing, those random little movements turned into something a bit more rhythmic. Grantaire really wasn’t one for subtlety. 

Enjolras’s breath was hot on Grantaire’s neck, as his hands went to grip Grantaire’s hips. “Weren’t you the one complaining earlier about not seeing any movies?” 

“What do you mean? I’m not doing anything.”  Grantaire didn’t turn to face Enjolras, but could clearly imagine his reproachful look. “I’m just trying to get comfortable.” He shifted again, rubbing up against Enjolras in a way that was not at all covert. Grantaire smiled, able to feel exactly what the movement was doing to Enjolras. 

Enjolras’s grip on Grantaire loosened. “Sure looks like something to me,” He said, moving his hand to rest on the bulge in Grantaire’s pants. Grantaire made a short noise of protest, that is, until Enjolras pressed down. “Pay attention to the movie, R.”

“But this option is more fun,” Grantaire whined, continuing to shift on Enjolras’s lap. “Don’t act like such a prude.”

“A prude, am I?” Enjolras ground his palm into the front of Grantaire’s pants. “Are you sure?”

Feigning nonchalance, Grantaire crossed his arms and pouted, “If you weren’t, you’d be fucking me by now.” He fought to keep his voice steady. Even the slightest touch from Enjolras made Grantaire crazy. Crazy-horny and also just generally made him lose his shit. 

Enjolras’s hand didn’t move away from Grantaire’s erection. The other hand, however, rose to harshly grip Grantaire’s jaw. Enjolras lightly bit the skin at the back of his neck, effectively trapping Grantaire against himself. “What are you wanting?” 

“I thought I made it obvious. I want you inside me.” At his confession, Grantaire ground his ass against Enjolras as hard as he could, praying that he’d take the bait. Enjolras only clicked his tongue.

“So eager. I don’t think you will be in just a second.”

He was half-naked in the lap of a nearly fully-clothed Enjolras.

“Be a good boy and watch the movie,” Enjolras said, “You are going to sit on my cock and not move.”

“Wait, what? You know that’s not what I meant.”

“You should’ve been more specific, then. It’s not my fault you didn’t think ahead.”

He wanted Enjolras to do something. To adjust, to do something rather than make him suffer in this way. Every time Grantaire tried to move, Enjolras’s arms were there to keep him in place. Grantaire forgot just how strong Enjolras was. He was essentially prohibited from doing anything except for watching the movie. 

He was also unable to think about anything except for the man underneath him. God-fucking-damnit. How could he? He was too warm, felt like his insides were being burnt up, crazy with want. Then there was Enjolras, calm and collected, watching the movie as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if he wasn’t, you know, six inches deep in the other man. What the fuck.

“Having fun back there?” Grantaire bit out, determined to make Enjolras realize just how pissed off he was.

“Hm? Oh. Yes.” One of Enjolras’s hands rested lightly on Grantaire’s chest, moving to scrape a nail along his Adam’s apple. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” 

Grantaire swallowed as his stomach twisted. “Shut up. I am not .”

“So ferocious. I am absolutely terrified right now.” Enjolras snickered and the gravity of it moved through Grantaire, who startled at the sudden movement. Enjolras let his hand fall to Grantaire’s hipbone, the other playing with the hem of his shirt. “Whatever shall I do with you?”

“You could actually fuck me, for a start.”

Enjolras fully laughed at that one, surprised at the response. Meanwhile, Grantaire pressed down against him, determined to get any contact possible. 

“Someone’s getting bold,” Enjolras gripped Grantaire’s hips, lifting him up and then quickly pulling him back down onto his lap, “Or did you forget who’s in charge? Allow me to remind you.” Up and down, again. Grantaire squeaked, unable to do anything but take it. 

Until Enjolras stopped and went back to watching the movie. Grantaire turned his head to glare over his shoulder at Enjolras, who only smiled like the sun and played dumb. “Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Enjolras lifted an eyebrow, shallowly rocking into Grantaire,  “I’m just watching a movie. What’s so wrong with that?”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be begging soon enough.” Enjolras said with a smile, the picture of innocence contradicting his words. “Now turn around, I’m trying to see the screen.”

Grantaire sighed dramatically, but did as he was told. For all of two minutes, that is. 

He shifted, pressing down against Enjolras. Rolling his hips, Grantaire was intent on getting whatever he could. Enjolras moved from below Grantaire, sitting up so his chest was flush against Grantaire’s back. He placed his hands on Grantaire’s waist, and admonished, “ Behave. ” 

Whenever Grantaire was confronted with the reality that was how ridiculously dwarfed he felt next to Enjolras, it was, for the most part, annoying. Now, coupled with that rarely-heard domineering tone of voice, Grantaire was much less annoyed than usual. His muscles tensed immediately. 

Grantaire’s skin was scorching where Enjolras’s fingers dug in. All of his stubbornness dissipated when Enjolras’s mouth met the back of Grantaire’s neck. 

“Relax, R. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Not when you say things like that, He thought. 

Enjolras snuck a hand under Grantaire’s shirt to lay against his chest. “Your heart’s beating so fast today,” He purred into Grantaire’s ear, kissing the sensitive spot underneath. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t sound worried, though. He sounded pleased.

“I’m just so enthralled watching this movie.”

“Your eyes are closed, doll.”

Grantaire snapped his eyelids back open at that, not even sure when he closed them. “Enjolras, will you quit playing around?”

“Get off and face me.” His voice was no longer sickly-sweet and patronizing, but domineering and rough. It made Grantaire’s stomach twist as he obeyed the command. 

Enjolras’s eyes were dark, blinking slowly. He leaned back against the couch, training his gaze on the screen. “Since you’re so impatient, move by yourself.”

Grantaire didn’t need to be told twice, immediately repositioning himself. He settled back down onto Enjolras, fucking himself on the other man. 

But Enjolras wasn’t looking at him. His attention was fixed solely on the screen behind Grantaire. Rude. Fine, two can play at that game. He sighed, louder than necessary, and pulled off and away from Enjolras. He got up off the couch, heading towards his room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Enjolras caught him by the wrist as he passed. 

“I got bored. Plus, I don’t want to interrupt your movie, now do I?” Grantaire narrowed his eyes at Enjolras, but made no real effort to leave. 

Enjolras’s mouth cracked open in a grin, seeing straight through Grantaire’s act. He sat up, pulling his legs off the couch, not letting go of Grantaire’s wrist. “Someone’s pouty.” He just continued smiling up at Grantaire, which was doing dangerous things to his heart. 

“I am not “ pouty ,” Enjolras.”

“My full name, huh? You only use that when you’re especially pissed off.” Grantaire flushed, not expecting to have been analyzed so in depth. “So tell me,” Enjolras pulled Grantaire back down onto the couch, immediately pinning him against the armrest, “Why’re you throwing a tantrum?”

Grantaire glared at him. “Okay, I’m leaving. You’re being too aggravating.” He pushed on Enjolras’s chest. Enjolras laughed, serenading Grantaire with the little snicker he did when he was amused. He grabbed Grantaire’s wrists and kissed him quickly on the cheeks.

“It’s just so fun to tease you, though.” Enjolras traced his free hand along Grantaire’s jaw. “Start talking, R.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’m not letting you go. I’ll just fall asleep here.”

“Eponine’s coming over tomorrow morning, and she’s got a spare key. Really want her to walk in on this?”

Enjolras licked his lips, eyes traveling down Grantaire’s body. “Maybe I’d like to show off all those pretty marks on your skin.” He dragged a finger over the newly-forming bruises on Grantaire’s hipbone. “Parade you around in front of the Amis. What would they think of that, ‘Taire? The group cynic’s a whore for their leader.” 

Grantaire trembled under Enjolras. “Fuck.” 

“We’ll do that later. First, tell me what’s bothering you.” 

Grantaire pouted again, suddenly shy. “It’s… Embarrassing.”

“Oh, my favorite.” He still hasn’t released Grantaire’s hands, just holding his wrists in between them. “Go on.”

Resigned to death by humiliation, Grantaire sighed. “W-when I was facing you, you wouldn’t look at me. And I guess it just annoyed me.”

Enjolras’s face brightened, grin on full display. He let go of Grantaire’s hands to cradle his face. “You’re so freaking cute.” He kissed Grantaire sweetly, just once, before pulling away. “Now,” Pulling Grantaire’s legs up to rest on his shoulders, he continued, “Allow me to apologize.”

He slid in without pretense as Grantaire’s hands quickly grabbed onto Enjolras’s shirt. 

Enjolras was taking his time with Grantaire, it seemed. He was slowly dragging himself in and out, determined to hear every possible noise he could make.

Enjolras was watching him now, openly admiring every reaction he got out of Grantaire. His long lashes cast shadows across his face as he stared down at Grantaire, eyes piercing. His expression was lustful, looking like he wanted to devour Grantaire, like he was a prize for the taking. 

Grantaire’s hands went up to cover his face. He couldn’t handle having Enjolras look at him like that; it would break him. 

“Oh,” Enjolras chuckled, carding his fingers through Grantaire’s hair. “So upset that I wasn’t looking at you, but now you’re hiding from me? Isn’t this what you wanted, R?”

“I- I- Ah!” Grantaire yelped as Enjolras suddenly tugged hard on a lock of his hair. Grantaire covered his mouth with his hands in surprise. Enjolras pulled Grantaire’s arms away, holding them tightly. 

“I want to hear you, Grantaire.” He leaned down to speak into his ear. “Does this feel good?” Grantaire nodded, not trusting his voice. “Say it.”

“-Good. F-feels good.” 

“You’re so well-behaved once you get what you want.” Enjolras picked up the pace now, back to his familiarly fast speed.

“Mmn,” Grantaire was making frustrated little noises below Enjolras, head thrown to the side. His face was screwed up, eyebrows furrowed together. He never could hold still, shaking as Enjolras fucked him.

Enjolras pressed his thumb against Grantaire’s bottom lip, forcing his mouth open. Grantaire looked up at him, doe-eyed and pink-cheeked and it took every ounce of self-control Enjolras had not to immediately wreck him. 

He pressed his finger in, intent on hearing all the noises Grantaire had been covering up. Grantaire shuddered, latching on to Enjolras’s shirt again. Enjolras pressed his thumb against Grantaire’s tongue, spit wetting his bottom lip. “Good boy,” He praised as Grantaire squirmed, letting out little breathy gasps. “You look so pretty like this. You’re doing so well.”

Grantaire was no match for a determined Enjolras. He had a mission and he was not one for giving up. Pulling out almost entirely, he slammed back in with such a force Grantaire’s vision went white. Breathy gasps turned into low moans - music to Enjolras’s ears. Enjolras leaned down, licking and biting at Grantaire’s nipple, who rewarded him with a choked-sounding groan. 

Grantaire’s body spasmed as he came, calling out Enjolras’s name around the man’s thumb. That alone was enough for Enjolras to follow suit, climaxing inside a twitching Grantaire. 

The last thing Grantaire remembered was Enjolras petting his hair and whispering sweet nothings into his ear before Grantaire blacked out. 

He awoke in his bed with clean pajamas on, and a glass of water waiting on his nightstand. 

Chapter Text

Weird. Weird. Weird. 

This was all way too weird. Nothing had prepared Grantaire for this. No units in school, no on-the-job training, nothing picked up along the way could have saved him now. 

He was completely out of his depth, and no amount of Google searches proved fruitful. “Developed feelings for fwb” populated his browser history. Scratch that. “Enemies with benefits,” maybe? “Frenemies with benefits?” No, that just popped up some slash fiction, which his little situation might as well have been.

The lecturer tapped on the front of his desk with a finger and a glare, silently telling him to put away his phone. Ridiculous, he was paying to be here, he might as well use his time the way he wished. With a little nod and a smile that he hoped looked apologetic, Grantaire turned his attention to the board.

He normally enjoyed classical theory, but today the words swam in front of his head. Grantaire’s eyes unfocused and he found he didn’t have the energy to refocus them. Academia is great and all, but at some point it becomes too much about proving how smart you are instead of being content with the spread of information itself. 

It was a small class in a cramped room with low ceilings, which only served to make it feel even more stifling. Grantaire let his unfocused eyes wander, not truly seeing anything, feigning attentiveness. He never really made friends in his classes. He should, really, but it was so much easier to just pack up his shit and leave. Small talk made Grantaire want to vomit, because, ew. Frankly, he couldn’t care less what anyone else was studying. Maybe he should care more. No, he definitely should care more. 

But, really. Is it too much to ask to simply attend class, get the grade, then be done with it all? Why do people take it upon themselves to change things, when the fruits of their labor are often sour?

Grantaire’s eyes catch upon a bright shock of hair, and for a moment he forces himself back into the present. The person he very aggressively stares at is not who he had thought. Hoped? Anticipated. He shifts his gaze away when he realizes he had been staring too long, and the man meets his gaze quizzically. 

After many long minutes of pretending he understood what was happening, the teacher dismissed the class to Grantaire’s relief. He had another class soon, and he desperately needed to eat something, or have an energy drink, at least. Staying up all night has come to cause his daytime suffering once more. 

He nearly made it all the way out before someone called his name. Damnit. Sighing internally, Grantaire turned around.  The blond guy he was previously glaring at holds out his hand. “Noticed you were staring me down pretty hard.”

Grantaire flicks his eyes between the outstretched hand and the man’s face. “I was zoning out, sorry.”

The man doesn’t seem to even take offense with Grantaire ignoring his olive branch, instead reaching up to scratch the side of his face. “My name’s Montparnasse. What’s yours?” He had an unsavory looking appearance. Not that he’d done anything worthy of that declaration, something about him just seemed off. He wasn’t unattractive, just unsettling in a way Grantaire couldn’t quite name.

“Grantaire.” With that, Grantaire turns and walks out of the room. He really wasn’t in the mood to be making friends – not when he’s got a date with the bag of Doritos he left in the backseat of his car. 

To his dismay, this Montparnasse guy has taken it upon himself to make Grantaire his friend. Sitting next to him in lecture, walking beside Grantaire whenever he has the chance, ceaselessly talking while Grantaire says nothing in return. It was starting to get tiring, because no matter how Graintaire responded, Montparnasse did not shut up.

Grantaire did not think himself a mean person, but sometimes he just didn’t have the energy to deal with that. Especially when Montparnasse’s favorite topics were women and all of the sex he had with women. Not exactly Grantaire’s forte, if he was being honest. 

They were walking to class. Rather, Grantaire was walking to his class, and Montparnasse had seemingly invited himself. God, he hated the communications building. For a campus so well-funded, that building was decrepit. Lights didn’t work, the structure itself was confusing, and he was late to any class there for the first couple of weeks because of the labyrinthic layout.  

On his most favorite conversational topic, Montparnasse asked, “What about you? Who would you fuck in our class?” 

Grantaire contemplates murder, replies, “No one,” and doesn’t elaborate. His brows furrow while looking at the room numbers – had he gotten lost again? Impossible.

“Really?”

“Yep.” Grantaire wasn’t even paying attention to the conversation. Instead, he was looking down at his phone, trying to find a map of the building. The little hallway they were in had a broken overhead light and he had no idea if he’d already gone this way. 

After a pause, Montparnasse steps closer, “I don’t know if I believe that.” Grantaire looks up from his phone, confused, and gets crowded into the wall in the next moment. 

“Hey–!”

“I do recall,” Montparnasse grins, too wide and uncomfortable to look at, “You staring at me.” He pushes further into Grantaire’s space, gripping him by the shoulders. “And you never seem interested in anyone. Is it perhaps because you already have your eye on someone?”

Alarm bells ring deafeningly in Grantaire’s head as he tries to break free. Montparnasse is stronger than he looks to be, his nails digging little half-moons into Grantaire’s skin. “You’ve known me for how long? Get the fuck off.” His chest heaves, adrenaline running through his veins. 

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re scared.” Montparnasse leans down towards Grantaire, who is trying his absolute hardest to shake him off and failing miserably

“R?”

Oh, Grantaire could cry at hearing that voice. He turned to his savior. “Enj!?” Something in his face must have betrayed how uncomfortable he was, because in seconds Montparnasse was ripped away by a very angry-looking Enjolras. 

“Hey, hey, hey, no need to get all up in arms.” Montparnasse looks just as calm as can be, running a hand through his hair though Enjolras still holds him by the collar. “We were just having a little chat, weren’t we, Grantaire?”

Glaring daggers into the man, Grantaire crosses his arms and states, “Fuck off and die,” which is answer enough.

Raising his hands in surrender, Montparnasse dusts off his shoulders and straightens his shirt when Enjolras lets him go. He grins sickeningly, and winks at Grantaire before he saunters off. “See you tomorrow.”

Enjolras whirls around to face Grantaire, “Are you okay?” Distress is written so clearly across his features, mouth drawing tight.

Still a little dazed with the fast-paced events that unfolded, Grantaire can only mutter, “I didn’t know you had any classes here.”

Running his gaze over Grantaire and making sure that nothing was out of the ordinary, Enjolras distractedly says, “English minor, remember? What did he mean, “See you tomorrow”? Who was that guy?”

Grantaire slumps down onto the ground, using his backpack to break his fall. “We have classic theory together.” That encapsulates all the answers, he thinks. 

Enjolras slumps down next to him. “When’s class for you?”

“Oh,” Grantaire looks at his watch, “Started about 15 minutes ago. I couldn’t find it, then that happened, so you know…” He trailed off.

“I meant your classic theory one.”

“What, planning on being my bodyguard?” Grantaire laughed, quieting when Enjolras didn’t join him. “No.” He turned to face him, incredulous.

“I mean, clearly he felt brave enough to try shit!” Enjolras sputtered, looking down at his shoes. “What if he does it again and there’s no one around to stop it?”

“You cannot be serious right now.” Grantaire states, staring at Enjolras. “Look, if he does try anything, I’ll figure it out.” Enjolras glances up from his knees, leveling an incredibly disbelieving look at Grantaire. “It’ll be fine.”

Grantaire can never win against Enjolras. Never. Rumors started to fly around the Classics department when Grantaire subsequently had Apollo-slash-Achilles-slash-savage-Antinous as his personal escort to and from classes, glaring at Montparnasse whenever possible. Enjolras didn’t have to know about it. That was going to follow Grantaire to the grave.

Chapter Text

Grantaire couldn’t help but scan the low-lit room for a shock of golden hair. It wasn’t even conscious at this point. It was dark and there was alcohol in his veins, and what a combination those two things were. Who knows, maybe if he was lucky, he could convince Enjolras to dance. The Amis were out bar-hopping after a successful rally, high off their victory, and had ended up in one of the clubs downtown. 

Ah, there he was. The familiar mop of curly hair twisted into a low bun, broad shoulders, and the most fantastic ass he’d ever seen. But, wait. No. No, it wasn’t him. A dark-haired woman was hanging onto his arm, practically climbing her way up the man. The Enjolras lookalike turned, laughing lightly, and-

Shit. Fuck. 

Grantaire needed air. He pushed his way through the crowd, ignoring Eponine’s questioning look, the taste of bile in the back of his throat as he dodged around the mass of people to the door. As soon as he stepped past the threshold of the club, the cold, night wind attacked every inch of exposed skin. Grantaire shivered at the feeling, fishing a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He lit up, breathing in the smoke. He all but fell to the ground, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. The back alley he found himself in felt like a world away from the intensity of the room on the other side of the wall. Grantaire watched cars pass by the entrance to the little strip, dizzyingly fast compared to the eerie still of the night. The light pollution blocked out the stars in their entirety, and the moon looked small and tinny in the night sky. 

The music pounded on in the background, pulsing in time with Grantaire’s budding headache. “Fuck,” He muttered, hoping he sounded more exhausted than bitter, but not convinced he was successful. The cold air didn’t respond. 

Grantaire pulled out his phone, staring down at his reflection on the screen. “I don’t get to be jealous. I am nothing to him and he is nothing to me.” He wished it didn’t look like he was lying. He sighed and put his phone away, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

He closed his eyes, and Grantaire could almost imagine himself back home. Maybe smoking off his balcony, a record spinning slowly in his player. A candle would be lit – something nice, something him. Maybe a warm vanilla or something with “Fall” in the name and definitely not the expensive one Enjolras bought him for his birthday. He’d still be cold and alone, but alone surrounded by people is far worse than alone in your solitude. 

Someone tapped the side of his leg with their shoe. “I thought you quit smoking.” 

Grantaire opened his eyes and looked up to see the very person he was trying to avoid, actively keeping himself from slamming his forehead into the ground. Shit luck. Enjolras stood next to him, the neon lights reflecting off the club making him look like he was glowing. An angel, a harbinger of doom. Of all the people in the club, it had to be him. 

“Yeah, I thought so too,” Grantaire sighed, “Old habits die hard.”

“That stuff can kill you, you know.”

“Oh, not to worry. I engage in lots of other things to put me in the ground.”

Enjolras sat down next to him on the curb, unceremoniously crashing down the same way Grantaire had done. “What’s wrong?”

“Too claustrophobic,” Grantaire crushed his cigarette underfoot, pointedly ignoring Enjolras’s reproachful look, face blank and unrepentant. “That girl you were chatting up seemed really interested in you. Why aren’t you in there with her?” A small, evil part of himself was digging its claws into the fact that Enjolras came outside to find him.

Enjolras looked up at the black sky, linking his hands behind his neck. Sighing, he muttered, “She’s — not exactly my type.”

“Ah, so brunettes are out?” Grantaire mused sardonically, “Duly noted.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Enjolras knocked his knee against Grantaire’s, letting it stay there. “And, really, your hair isn’t quite brown.” He grabbed a lock of it, twisting the hair between his thumb and forefinger. “More like ink, wouldn’t you say?”

“What are you saying?” The place where Enjolras’s knee touched Grantaire’s burned, and Grantaire was all too aware of every sensation happening at that moment. 

“Uh, that your hair isn’t brown? Marius’s hair, that’s brown. Yours, not so much.” Enjolras playing dumb would be endearing if it wasn’t so annoying.

Grantaire pinched the bridge of his nose. The club was too loud, the ground was too hard, Enjolras was fucking stupid, and he was barely holding back the contents of his lunch. It was all too much for him.

“How about you go find someone who is your type, and leave me alone to do the same?”

Enjolras stared at him with that funny look of - not hurt, but something like it. Like he was being scolded. “What?”

“Look, I’ve had a fucking day,” Grantaire stood up, popping his back as he did so. “I’m going to go find someone who’ll stick their tongue in my mouth. Got it? Cool.” He turned around to head back inside, prickly embarrassment beginning to color his ears.

“No, you’re not,” Enjolras was up just as fast, pulling Grantaire back away from the door.

Grantaire pulled his arm out of Enjolras’s grip, incredulous. Since when had Enjolras gotten so comfortable manhandling him in public? “And why is that?”

Enjolras crossed his arms, putting on his responsible adult stance like a well-worn hat. “You’re drunk.”

“Trust me. You’ve never seen me a second past tipsy,” Grantaire was, admittedly, definitely a few more drinks in than he should be. He could feel it, the way his fingertips buzzed with electricity and everything seemed just a bit more in focus.

“Oh, so drunk you doesn’t just go around fucking anyone who’ll look at you twice.”

Grantaire grinned mirthlessly. “Sober me has already done that, in case you’ve forgotten. You were there, after all.” The blood rushing past his ears was deafening. “Are we done here?”

Enjolras ground his teeth together and Grantaire could swear he saw a muscle in his jaw jump. “Yeah.”

He promptly turned around and yanked open the door, headache blaring to life with the onslaught of music and people and lights. Stalking off without looking back to see if Enjolras was following, Grantaire beelined straight for the bar, feeling still far too sober.

Grantaire slid into the only available seat at the bar, catching the eye of the harried bartender. Poor guy, working alone on a night like this. He shouted for a shot over the noise, passing his card over. As his drink was set in front of Grantaire, a pointy-looking man sidled up next to him, pressing himself into the scant space between Grantaire and another person sat nursing their whiskey. 

“You know, you remind me of someone,” The man said, a mischievous lilt in his voice, “Have we met before?” 

Grantaire glanced over the newcomer, sliding his card back in his wallet. He had a slightly upturned nose and bleached tips, boyishly handsome like a 90s boy band member. He really was quite attractive, but Grantaire’s tastes ran more radical these days. “Can’t say we have. Who do I remind you of?”

The 6th NSYNC member grinned toothily, pointed canines reminding Grantaire of a wolf as he leaned in, “The man of my dreams.” His white tank top stretched almost obscenely across his chest, leaving little to the imagination. 

Grantaire snorted, “Whole lot of pick-up lines at your disposal and you really settled for that one, huh?”

“Hey, can’t fault a guy for trying,” He said, holding his hands up placatingly. “Besides, it’s a wonder I can think at all with you in front of me.” The man leaned against the bar, crossing his arms together to unsubtly flex his muscles. “Anyone waiting up for you?”

“Nope,” Grantaire downed his shot, the medicinal taste and acid burn exploding through his torso like a hard reset. Pushing the little glass back across the bar, he turned to the man. “You wanna make out?”

“Don’t need to ask me twice.” He held out his hand, pulling Grantaire out of his seat and toward the dance floor, the throng of bodies shifting and gyrating like a living thing. They pressed their way in, hands clasped together. Grantaire wanted to feel excited, he really did. He wanted butterflies and anticipation and the oil-slick feeling of arousal running through his veins. Mostly he just felt distant curiosity.

Once the man deemed them at an acceptable location, the parameters for which Grantaire hadn’t the slightest inkling, he turned and placed his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders. He leaned in, ghosting his lips over the shell of Grantaire’s ear, speaking loudly to be heard, “Can I kiss you?”

In lieu of a response, Grantaire looped his fingers through the straps on that stupid tank top, and pulled the man’s face towards his own, hoping he’d get the picture. 

As far as kissing goes, it was fine. He was… Alright. Sure, Grantaire will give him that. Was kissing always like this? It felt different with Enjolras. Ah, yes, Enjolras. The prick. The utterly confusing, fantastic-looking, infuriating shithead that he was. Kissing was different when it was with him. He was more confident, maybe. Or maybe he was just better at it. Or maybe it was all in Grantaire’s head. What was Enjolras doing? Where was he?

He hadn’t even realized he zoned out until the man’s tongue, hot and somehow sticky, swiped against the seam of Grantaire’s lips. Suddenly feeling very overwhelmed, Grantaire pulled away, simultaneously disentangling himself from the man’s shirt. 

“Woah, okay,” Grantaire blinked rapidly, the low lighting making it aggravatingly difficult to get his bearings. “Well. Um. That was–”

The man backed off, almost surprisingly quick, moving his hands behind his back. “Hey, dude, it’s alright if you aren’t in it.”

“Yeah, I just,” Grantaire inwardly cringed, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No harm, no foul, my man.” He just clasped Grantaire on the shoulder, seemingly unperturbed. “Now, real talk, I’m looking to get laid tonight, so I’m gonna try my luck with glasses over there.” Grantaire looked to where the man was indicating, holding back a sharp bark of laughter as his eyes landed on Combeferre, staunchly refusing to be cajoled into dancing by Courfeyrac. “Good luck with whatever you’ve got going on.” The man patted him on the shoulder and sauntered off, splitting through the crowd like water.

Propriety be damned. Grantaire was keyed up and that last shot was hitting hard. Bad combo. It felt like the seconds of stillness before a place erupted in a knock-down drag-out kind of fight. His knuckles itched, sense memory etched into the skin. He wasn’t that person anymore, though. 

Diverting his energy to something not physically damaging, though perhaps emotionally, Grantaire went back to searching for Enjolras. 

He found him in nearly the same place as last time, tucked away in a corner, chatting idly to a couple of strangers. And like last time, that woman was hanging onto his every word, never mind his arm. If he had a lower blood-alcohol level, perhaps he would’ve sulked back over to Eponine, who was absorbed in Marius’s story, and stayed well enough alone. There’s no timeline in which Grantaire doesn’t come running, though, enthralled by Enjolras’s siren song. 

Without a rational thought in his head, Grantaire stalks through the crowd over to Enjolras, trying to fix his face into something calm, something more confident than he’ll ever actually be. 

Making his way to the free side of Enjolras, Grantaire interrupts them, clearing his throat obnoxiously. The woman was in the middle of telling some story that sounded like it had to do with the DMV, so, really he was helping Enjolras out. “Excuse me, Enj, we’re leaving.” Grantaire grabbed his wrist, pulling him away before the man could react.

The woman whirled on him, still holding onto Enjolras’s bicep, “What, why?” She really was beautiful, brown hair immaculately styled with flawless skin. Nauseating jealousy rankled Grantaire's stomach. 

“He’ll be fucking me tonight. Sorry to ruin your moment.” He shot a quick smile at the woman that he was sure looked more like a grimace than anything else. She was so startled she dropped the issue entirely, letting her hands go slack from around Enjolras’s arm. 

Enjolras, for his part, was just as startled, allowing Grantaire to drag him all the way outside, ending up on the same sidestreet as earlier.

Getting over his shock, Enjolras wrenched his wrist out of Grantaire’s grasp, stepping back. “What was that, Grantaire?” Every word sounded clipped and embarrassed as Enjolras’s hands dug into his pockets, face red.

“What? You said she wasn’t your type.” Grantaire shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “If anything I was doing you a favor.” He let the building take the force of his weight as he leaned back against the club, music vibrating through the concrete. 

“I thought you told me to leave you alone.”

“Plans change,” Grantaire crossed his arms in front of himself. “The guy I found was not nearly as good at kissing as I had hoped.”

Enjolras raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh, so I get sloppy seconds, huh?” His face had cooled off, cheekbones still red, but eyebrows smoothing out into something less upset.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Grantaire tilted his chin up to look Enjolras squarely in the eye, daring him to say anything snarky. 

Enjolras sighed, running his hands down his face. He took a glance at his watch, “I think it’s time to take you home.”

“Oh,” Grantaire grinned, triumphant, “That was easier than normal.”

“No,” Enjolras admonished, lessened by the slight upward twitch in the corners of his lips, “I mean to your home. You’re drunk.” 

“Wrong. I am absolutely not drunk.”

Enjolras just tilted his head and monotoned, “Spell necessarily.”

Grantaire hesitated, trying to parse it out in his head, “…No.”

Unexpectedly, Enjolras’s nose scrunched up, and he laughed. Maybe it was due to their ridiculous conversation or from the embarrassment earlier, but it was like watching all of his tension melt away. He laughed, and it made Grantaire feel like a schoolboy with a crush. 

“How drunk are you exactly?”

“Like I said, not a second past tipsy.” Grantaire could feel his face heating up, electing to blame it on the alcohol rather than anything else. 

“Yeah, alright. Totally.” Enjolras patted his pants pockets, seemingly locating all of his items. “I’m taking you home. Do you have everything? Phone, keys, wallet?”

“Yeah,” Grantaire went to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, when, “Oh, shit.”

“What?”

“My wallet’s missing.”