#(trying to guess bahorels name)

[raisin-gran]

asked my partner to name all the barricade boys, and this is what they got:

grantaire

esteban

crrch

cork

marius

jean valjean

jean? (correct!)

bosco

oh no….

fachance

jean, again

[combeferres-mothematics]

🛼🍄🪲 for the writers ask 👀!!

Hiiiiiiii Syrup :D finally getting to this (yay, I've been saving them so I have something to do lol)

Alright here goes:

🛼- 🙇🧑‍🦳👫🚹🫂 I'm curious to see if you can guess which of my wips this is, because I have a LOT XD

🍄- Ooo okay, so for Bini, I think Joly goes nonverbal sometimes, and once, they didn't have any paper for him to write his thoughts on, so they had to resort to other forms of communication. (This is canon era), but they decided to try charades. And it was going pretty good until Joly tried to tell Bossuet something urgent (trying to figure out what still), and Bossuet guessed "Bahorel at Hernani". And Joly was like "????" (It was NOT what he was going for, and he had no clue how Bossuet got that idea lol)

🪲- ....You can have 50 words of Smol Joly >:3 (I forgot what I named this one help)

Joly shrieked excitedly as Bahorel entered the room, immediately getting out of Laigle's lap and rushing to tackle him. "Monsieur Bahorel!"

Bahorel's eyes went wide, but he still managed to catch Joly before the boy crashed into his legs, lifting him over his head and turning him upside down with a silly grin. "I don't look that much like my father, do I?"

Joly giggled breathlessly as the man held him upside down, casting a glance to the others sitting in the living room. "Now, would anyone care to explain why Joly is suddenly-" he paused, giving the preschooler a quick once over, "three or four years old?"

[kjack89]

Belle Épitaphe

Because this post has lived rent-free in my head for the past six years :’)

Happy Barricade Day, y’all!

ExR, canon compliant(ish) soulmate AU.

As was not uncommon, Enjolras’s parents hosted a party for him when he turned sixteen. Not quite a debut into society, it was instead an opportunity to gather and to wait for the words that would appear on his skin, just as they did on all upon reaching one’s sixteenth birthday.

The words would indicate his soulmark: the last words that his soulmate would ever speak to him.

It was an old tradition, the gathering for the words, dating back as long as any could imagine. But where once an entire village might gather to pray for good words, for words that revealed a name, or clue, of his soulmate’s identity, now it was more a formality to see if his parents need wait for a specific person to marry him off to, or if easier arrangements could be made. Now, instead of praying for a name, his parents – and more than a few young ladies from surrounding houses – hoped for vague words that could be uttered by anyone.

Enjolras hated every minute of it, dressing in uncomfortable, fancy clothing and pretending to make polite smalltalk with all of his parents’ friends. But most of all, he hated the very idea that some words that appeared on his skin might bind him to someone without his – or their – consent.

No matter how unlikely their meeting one day might be.

So he alone did not celebrate when he felt the words sear against his wrist; he alone did not hold his breath as he twisted his arm around to see the words that stood out starkly against his pale skin.

“Do you permit it?” his father read aloud for the assembled crowd, and his mother let out a small, delighted gasp.

“Such romantic words,” she told Enjolras, holding onto his other arm with both hands. “Think of what kind, loving wife will utter those words at the end of your long life.”

There was nothing Enjolras would rather imagine less.

And as he glared down at the words that had appeared on his arm, he vowed silently that he would never allow any to get so close to him as to say those words in any kind of final parting.

----------

It was, bluntly speaking, an easy vow to make and a far easier one to keep than Enjolras had at first anticipated, in no small part because he escaped from his parents before they could force him into anything resembling a courtship. Once he was in Paris, once he was surrounded by like-minded youths, he felt no need to give literally any thought whatsoever to soulmates, to soulmarks, or to the last words fate had destined someone to speak to him.

It had long since fallen out of fashion to endeavor to search for one’s soulmate, so it was not something of which most young men spoke, save in – gently or otherwise – mocking the lovelorn among them. How many times had Courfeyrac sighed and made an excuse for his errant roommate, telling them, “You really must forgive Marius; he is looking for his soulmate, after all”? 

It was something to roll one’s eyes at, if the subject even came up at all.

And around Enjolras, whose sole concern could be best summed by those three words liberté, égalité, and fraternité, it very rarely came up.

He may well have gone to his grave without ever giving it another thought, were it not for a casual utterance by someone he knew not at all.

When the barricades arose, Enjolras was filled with conviction, even more so than what usually filled him, conviction and righteousness enough to displace what little patience he had for things not associated with the Cause for which he had pledged his life, and very likely his death.

Which was perhaps why his temper soured so quickly upon hearing the latest of Grantaire’s many drunken soliloquies. Usually he could block them out, or ignore them as he tended to more important things, but standing on the crest of the barricade, facing down what was to come, he could not find it in himself to ignore it, or Grantaire.

“Grantaire,” he shouted, “go get rid of the fumes of your wine somewhere else than here. This is the place for enthusiasm, not for drunkenness. Don’t disgrace the barricade!”

Had he known what effect his words would have on the man, he might’ve tried shouting at him sooner. Immediately, Grantaire sobered, something Enjolras couldn’t quite read softening his expression. “Let me sleep here,” Grantaire said, almost gently, and Enjolras shook his head, already turning away.

“Go and sleep somewhere else.”

But Grantaire did not turn away, and something in his voice kept Enjolras rooted to the spot where he stood. “Let me sleep here—until I die.”

Anger welled in Enjolras’s chest as he stared balefully at Grantaire. When so many would doubtlessly lose their lives in service of freedom...what right did Grantaire have to use death as a bargaining chip, there of all places?

“Grantaire, you are incapable of believing, of thinking, of willing, of living, and of dying.”

He knew the words were harsh even as he was speaking them, a cold pronouncement of Grantaire’s character. But if Grantaire seemed affected by them, his expression did not show it. Only his tone seemed affected as he told Enjolras, his voice low, “You will see.”

He mumbled something more, something incoherent, but Enjolras was saved from having to decipher what else the man might possibly have said to him, but Bahorel shouting, “Here’s the street in its low-necked dress! How well it looks!”

And then Enjolras’s returned to the barricade and directing the efforts of the newest recruits who had arrived just as the rain stopped. They were a motley assortment of troops, but still Enjolras called each comrade as he gave out instructions.

As he paused near two men arranging a table on its side against the barricade, he could not help but overhear a snippet of their conversation. “I am confident we will survive this,” one said with a grunt as he shouldered the table into place. “After all, my wife did not utter the words marked on me before I left this eve.”

“Strange,” his companion said. “Your wife said the words marked on me when I left her this eve.”

The first man guffawed and shoved his companion with the camaraderie many of their number shared, their jokes about bedding each other’s wife continuing as they headed in the opposite direction, and Enjolras just shook his head before returning to the task at hand.

That should have been the end of it, an offhand joke shared between brothers at arms, but instead, the thought of the last words he might speak or hear stuck with Enjolras, even as the barricade was completed, even as they lost Prouvaire, even as they discovered the spy among them.

He endeavored to put it out of mind, and succeeded in ignoring it until they finally all settled in for the night. Then and only then did the thought begin to twist, low in his stomach. Especially when he thought of what he had said to Grantaire.

To say that Grantaire vexed him was a vast understatement; Grantaire vexed, irritated, confounded, and infuriated him. And yet for all his drunken ramblings and professions of belief in nothing, for his interruptions and distractions, for the way he had offered once to black Enjolras’s boots and for his failure to complete the one task Enjolras had ever deigned to assign him, Enjolras had never once been able to bring himself to send him away.

Not until that night.

And now, as he tried to get what little sleep he could in the shadow of the barricade as they waited for what battle was to come, he felt something like guilt seep through him.

He had not meant it, what he had said to Grantaire, and he knew better than most that the chance of them both surviving the barricade was not high. As much as he had never wished to care about the last words he said to any, the thought that those were the last words Grantaire might ever hear from him was unbearable.

After everything, he owed Grantaire a better farewell than that.

Mind made up, Enjolras stood to return to the Corinthe. The motion woke Combeferre, who had settled nearby. “Enjolras?” Combeferre asked quietly. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras assured him. “There is simply something that I must do.”

He could not quite make out Combeferre’s expression in the darkness, but he knew him well enough to guess what look he might wear. “The best thing for any of our number right now is sleep,” Combeferre said. “And to let those already asleep continue so undisturbed.”

“And if the last words I said to you were in anger, would you sleep undisturbed?”

There was a challenge in Enjolras’s voice, but Combeferre did not rise to it. “Had I drunk that much wine, I imagine so,” he returned instead. “There is but one thing Grantaire would wish to hear from you, and as you cannot offer that, it is best to let him sleep.”

“Perhaps,” Enjolras said. “But still I must try.”

If Combeferre made any further argument, Enjolras did not linger to hear it, instead slipping into the Corinthe and making his way to where Grantaire still lay with his head against the wooden table, fast asleep. Despite what Enjolras had said to him, his expression looked almost serene in the dim light, and Enjolras hesitated for a moment before shaking his shoulder. “Grantaire,” he said, his whisper sounding overly-loud as it pierced the silence. “Grantaire, wake up.”

Grantaire’s eyes blinked open, and he stared, unfocused, at Enjolras for a moment before his vision cleared enough to recognize the man half-kneeling beside him.

Then, to Enjolras’s surprise, his eyes widened in horror. “No!” he half-shouted, scrambling backwards from Enjolras and almost falling out of his seat. “No, no, please—”

“Grantaire—” Enjolras started, concerned, but Grantaire shook his head wildly.

“Do not speak to me, I beg of you,” he pleaded, and Enjolras frowned.

“I must,” he said firmly, and Grantaire let out what sounded almost like a whimper, covering his face with his hands. “Grantaire, please, you must let me say this. The words I last spoke to you – I would not have my last words to you be in anger.”

Grantaire lowered his hands, looking at once very sad and very tired. “But you must,” he said, sounding more sober than Enjolras had ever heard him. “Those words were the best gift you have ever given me.”

Enjolras’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What are you—” he started, breaking off when Grantaire turned suddenly, and yanked his shirt up to show Enjolras his back. “Grantaire, what—”

Again he broke off, but this time not in confusion. He broke off in recognition, seeing the words he had spoken reflected back at him from where they were marked on Grantaire’s skin. Almost without meaning to, he raised his hand to trace with trembling fingers the words he had shouted earlier. “Grantaire,” he whispered, though he knew not what to say after that.

Grantaire flinched, just slightly, at the sound of his name, and Enjolras pulled his hand away as if he had been scalded. “So,” Grantaire said, lowering his shirt after the silence that stretched between them had turned uncomfortable. “Now you see.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “I do,” he said, “but I also do not. Those are my words, but they are not the last that I will have spoken to you.”

“Apparently not,” Grantaire said. “Though how I wish that they were.”

“What do you—” For the third time in as many minutes, Enjolras broke off as realization hit him. “Because if they had been, I would be your soulmate.”

Grantaire couldn’t seem to meet his eyes. “Long have I imagined what it would be like to hear those words,” he murmured, so quietly that Enjolras could barely hear him. “What might my soulmate be like, to have such harsh words be the last spoken to me? But then I met you, and I knew, if there was any from whom I could hear those words fall off his lips and have them be sweeter than any confession of love…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras bowed his head, his chest feeling tight. He could not pretend that he had been fully unaware of the way Grantaire looked at him, or spoke to him, but to have it confirmed like this was more than he thought he could bear. Especially now, with those words between them and so little time left. “So when I said them earlier…”

“I knew that if I were to die, it would be worth it to know that you were my soulmate.”

Grantaire delivered the words evenly, even as Enjolras looked away. “I am sorry,” he said finally. “For what I said, and for all I have said after if I have ruined what peace you found.”

“May I ask one thing of you?”

Enjolras glanced over at him. “If it is again to black my boots…”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “No,” he said. “I wish to know what words are marked on your skin.”

Enjolras hand flew almost immediately to the words on the inside of his arm, and he rubbed them subconsciously. “I am not certain what good it would do now,” he hedged. 

“Perhaps none. But that does not change the fact that I wish to know.”

Enjolras hesitated before bowing his head in acquiescence and rolling his shirtsleeve up until the words were revealed, as dark and imposing as they had been when first they had appeared so many years before. He thrust his arm toward Grantaire, who bent his head to read the words silently to himself. Then he straightened and met Enjolras’s eyes. “I have seen the problem.”

Enjolras frowned, rolling his shirtsleeve down again. “What problem?”

Grantaire nodded toward his arm. “I’ve once asked you for permission to do anything.”

Enjolras laughed, a sharp, surprised sound. “I suppose not,” he agreed.

“And I doubt that even now I shall suddenly start.”

“Again, I suppose not.” Enjolras hesitated. “I have never given much thought to my soulmate, even to the idea in general. What good is a soulmate found only at death? My concern is with the rights of the living. Including the right to never find their soulmate if they do not wish.”

Grantaire’s eyes flew to his. “I would never dream—” he started, but Enjolras shook his head.

“I know,” he said softly. “And yet, there is a part of me that now hopes that I will not go to my death without hearing you say those words.”

He would never know what possessed him to say it – undoubtedly, the same instinct that had driven him to wake Grantaire in the first place, the same instinct that had stopped him from removing Grantaire from their meetings all these years, the same instinct that drew them together when they were the last two in the Musain late at night. It was that same instinct that made him painfully aware how close they were even then, and how little effort it would take to close that space and press his lips against Grantaire’s.

But he was saved from that instinct by Grantaire saying, quietly, “I am sorry.”

Enjolras blinked, confused by the apology. “What for?”

“That I will never speak those words.”

“Even if I were your soulmate, I don’t think I could ever bring myself to.” Grantaire gave Enjolras a small, sad smile, and the breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat. “To utter the words that would sever us...if those are the last words that I am to speak to you, then I would rather be struck dumb than speak our last.”

This time, when Enjolras again felt the instinct to close the space between them, he did not fight it, leaning in to kiss Grantaire. Grantaire was frozen for a brief moment before melting against Enjolras, curling one hand in Enjolras’s shirt and pulling him even closer. Enjolras reached up to cup Grantaire’s cheek, kissing him desperately, the weight of the moment leaving him wishing he could stretch the kiss into infinity.

But all too soon, he knew he had to pull away, to end the moment, because he knew Grantaire would never have been able to bring himself to. “I love you,” Grantaire told him, his hand still balled in Enjolras’s shirt, and Enjolras covered his hand with his own, squeezing his hand gently.

“I know.”

“Will you do one more thing for me?” Enjolras did not answer, just looked at Grantaire expectantly, and Grantaire swallowed, hard, before asking, a little hoarsely, “Will you say them again to me?”

Enjolras knew instantly that he meant the words he had spoken earlier, the ones written on Grantaire’s skin. “Grantaire—” he started, the name sticking in his throat.

“Please.”

Enjolras released Grantaire’s hand. “I cannot,” he said softly. “They were needlessly cruel then, and unspeakably so now.”

Grantaire just lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Perhaps,” he said. “And yet, I am asking you to.”

Enjolras tilted his head, trying to read Grantaire’s expression. “Why?”

“Because hearing you speak those words again…I will go to my death with a smile. It is all I have ever wanted, to hear those words from you. And I beg of you the chance to hear them again.”

Again, Enjolras’s chest felt unbearably tight. “Grantaire—”

“I have been resigned to my fate for longer than you could ever know,” Grantaire told him, though there was no resignation in his expression. Just something as close to hope as Enjolras had ever seen there. “Will you not do me this last kindness?”

“Grantaire—”

Grantaire’s expression did not flicker. “One way or another, I die with this barricade. So I beg of you, let me die in peace knowing, for however brief, that you were mine.”

For the third time, Enjolras said his name, but this time, it was not to deny him. “Grantaire—” He could barely speak around the lump in his throat, but he knew he must. He owed Grantaire this much. “You are incapable of believing—” Grantaire’s eyelids fluttered closed and Enjolras could not help himself, reaching out to again touch Grantaire’s cheek, his fingers so pale against the flushed skin. “—of thinking, of willing, of living—” His voice broke, and Grantaire opened his eyes and reached up to lay his hand over Enjolras’s, turning his head to press a kiss, featherlight, against Enjolras’s palm. “—of dying.” 

They stayed like that for a long moment until Grantaire let go of Enjolras’s hand. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Now go. And if the Lord is kind, I will see when I wake.”

Enjolras bowed his head and swallowed, hard, before nodding, just once, and retreating from the Corinthe without speaking another word.

It was done.

And he had a battle to prepare for, one he hoped would make him forget how much, in that moment, he wished to hear Grantaire say the words marked on his own skin.

----------

It was fitting, in a twisted sort of way, that Enjolras found himself back there, not even twelve hours later, backed into a corner with the barrels of twelve guns aimed at him. 

They had offered to bandage his eyes, but Enjolras wished to stare down his death with what defiance he had remaining. He lifted his chin as the sergeant repeated his order, “Take aim!”

But then, another voice shouted from beyond them, a voice that Enjolras knew, a voice he had resigned himself to never hearing again: “Long live the Republic! I am one of them.”

There were no words that Enjolras could muster as Grantaire crossed the room to stand next to him, but he did not need any. 

His words to Grantaire would be his last. For whatever peace it might bring both of them.

“Finish up both at one blow,” Grantaire said to the sergeant before turning to Enjolras.

As their eyes met, Enjolras understood, finally. Romantic, his mother had called the words on his arm, because she had envisioned them said by a doting spouse at the end of a long life. But she could never have imagined how much more beautiful they would be when spoken by someone he had not realized until too late was the one person who could ever have been his soulmate, the one with whom he would die in service of the idea of freedom for all men.

“Do you permit it?” Grantaire asked. The first, last and only time Grantaire had ever asked his permission. The only time he had ever needed to.

And Enjolras wordlessly pressed his hand with a smile.

[cumbercookiebatchs]

I loved your hc about Enj's cousin having a crush on R, so, let's have this:

-Enjolras favorite cousins (Maximilien and Eloise) are staying with him for a bit.

-Max goes out for a walk one day while Enj and Eloise stay home, and so Max meets Grantaire.

-They hit it off right away, but Max forgets to ask for R's name, so he spends the following days daydreaming and lamenting not even asking for his name.

-It's bad, like Marius before Cosette noticed him bad.

-Enjolras is a bit suspicious at first because he does know a tall, tattoed, and totally hot guy with dark curly hair, but he lets it go because, what are the chances?

-Come Friday,and the three of them are on their way to an ABC meeting.

-Enjolras introduces his cousins. Eloise makes fast friends with Jehan and Musichetta, while Max sits near Enjolras, and starts conversation with Cosette and Feuilly.

-R comes in laughing at something that either Bossuet or Joly could have said, and all eyes are on him.

-It's then when Enjolras feels Max tugging hard on his sleeve, and murmuring in half wonder, half excitement "that's him, that's the guy!"

-And Enjolras doesn't need more clarifications, because Joly is so terriefied of needles he'd faint before getting a tattoo, and there's no hair on Bossuet's head. So that's it, it must be—no, it is Grantaire.

-R approaches, and he greets Max first, and Enjolras blood boils.

-He spends the rest of the week and the following one acting a bit cold towards both Max and Grantaire. Les Amis each take a turn to show Eloise and Max a cool activity to do in Paris, and to Enjolras chagrin, Max and Grantaire are inseparable.

-Next Friday comes, and it's Grantaire's turn. He chooses hide and seek in the Louvre.

-Enjolras feels a little wary, but even Combeferre is excited, so he gives it a try. Rules are simple, one group searches, one hides, hiding in bathrooms is forbidden, and everyone must be out before the museum closes at 11pm.

-The teams were chosen by putting all names in a hat.

-The ones who search: Bossuet, Eponine, Combeferre, Max, Musichetta, Bahorel, Feuilly and Marius.

-The ones who hide: Grantaire, Eloise, Cosette, Joly, Jehan, Enjolras, Courfeyrac and Gavroche.

-The game is going well, but Enjolras knows very well the sound Ferre's shoes make, and they sound closer every second. Enjolras tries his luck by darting across the hall as fast as he can until he finds a door, enters, and shuts it behind him.

-Enjolras tries to catch his breath, and of fucking course he is not alone

-Grantaire is there too, in case you couldn't guess

- There's a bit of awkward silence between them for a while, and when Enjolras is about to break it, Grantaire suddenly has him pinned against a wall with a hand on Enjolras mouth and making a "sh" sound.

-Enjolras stays as still as he can with Grantaire that close, he doesn't understand what's happening, but then he hears Eponine's muffled voice from outside the room.

-Grantaire stays close even long after Eponine is gone, and Enjolras isn't thinking when he gets up his tip toes and kisses the corner of R's mouth.

-He regrets that instantly and goes on a ramble about how Max is in love with R and how Grantaire is in love with Max, and how it's stupid that he is jealous and—

-Grantaire kisses him, fully on the mout now, and Enjolras lets him, because gosh how much he wanted that, and so Enjolras lets Grantaire kiss him and— (yes again)

-The door flew open and Max is there, wide eye, looking, and Enjolras thinks he will faint from shame... that is only Max starts to laugh and congratulates R "you did it bro!" and proceeds to close the door, not before assuring that he will pretend to see nothing.

-Enjolras is confused as ever, and Grantaire then explains at first Max was actually interested in him, but upon discovering his crush on Enjolras, Max and R created a kind of scheme to get them together.

- "so you don't like him?" "nope" "and he doesn't lile you? " "not anymore" "okay... now come back and kiss me"

-Grantaire kisses him again, after a while, the door opens again, but this time is the security guard, who's not very happy about the two students making out in the supplies closet.

-"and how did it go?" Max wiggles his eyebrows suggestively towards Enjolras on the way to the blond's apartment. "How went what?" asks Eloise, "nothing!" Enjolras says almost instantly, but Eloise is faster and points out the bruise on Enjolras neck, "so that's why you were nowhere to be found!" she laughs, and soon the three cousins are laughing underneath the the stars of the Paris night-sky.

(Sorry if it's too long, and sorry for the typos)

I. Am. Combusting.

THIS IS SO GOOD OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU I ADORE YOU OH MY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🥺😭😭😭

[malewifegrantaire]

The Birthday Thing

READ PART ONE HERE

READ PART TWO HERE

PART THREE: The titular “Thing.”

Combeferre had put himself in charge of the cell phone bag, a move that Enjolras heartily objected to.

“You really don’t have to do that.” Enjolras said. “You should be having fun!”

“I will be having fun!” Combeferre promised. “But if we’re gonna enforce a no cell phone policy, someone has to keep an eye on them in case someone’s mom calls or something.”

“If my mom calls, do me a favor and send her to voicemail.” Courfeyrac interrupted. Courfeyrac had managed to simultaneously be the first and last person to arrive, even though the party was being thrown in his apartment. He’d set everything up, welcomed Enjolras and Combeferre, and then left to go pick up his plus-one who, Combeferre noticed, was standing very nervously behind Courfeyrac clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Uh, hi. Thank you, uh, thanks for having me, I know we don’t know each other too well. We met once, I don’t know if you remember-“

“I remember.” Combeferre said, and Marius made a face that said quite plainly he wished he hadn’t remembered him at all. Enjolras only smiled.

“Oh, it’s you! You’re, yeah, you’re that guy, I remember you! Marius. Okay, yeah! Thank you for coming.” he said. Marius’ shoulders relaxed a bit, and he held out the bouquet.

“These are for you. Or for the house, I guess. I know it said no gifts but I thought, but if you don’t want anything I - sorry, I know that, but, it’s fine I can just-“

“These are very nice, thank you. I appreciate it.” Enjolras said graciously.

Combeferre grabbed the tote bag full of cell phones and held it open. “Well, confiscation time. Cough ‘em up, fellas.” he said. Courfeyrac took it upon himself to discard of Marius’ phone, but before he did, something on Marius’ screen made him giggle.

“I didn’t know you had a sister, Marius.”

Marius frowned. “Sister? What are you - oh!”

His lock screen was a selfie of a teenage girl, who was making a silly face into the camera. Marius’ eyes widened, and he quickly snatched his phone away to change the picture. “This isn’t my sister,” he explained, laughing nervously. “It’s, she’s this kid I know, my neighbor.” He set his screensaver to the first thing in his camera roll, a picture of a dog wearing rain boots, and tossed the phone into the tote bag.

“Okay!” Enjolras said brightly. “Thanks again for coming, and for the flowers. Have you met everyone yet.”

“Uh, yeah.” Marius said. “I know Joly and Bossuet, I already said hi to him. And Bahorel, is he here?”

“Yes, he’s . . . I don’t know, actually. He’s somewhere.”

“And uh, Grantaire, I know him. Is he here too?”

Enjolras’ face fell a bit. As a matter of fact, Grantaire wasn’t there. Not that it was unlike him to be “fashionably” late (Enjolras hadn’t a clue what was so fashionable about lack of punctuality, but you know.) But, still, Enjolras thought . . . seeing as it was his birthday and all . . .

“Not yet,” Combeferre cut in. “But he will be. Soon.”

Courfeyrac squinted at him. “Right.” he said. “Well, we’ll go and join the fray. Come on, Enjolras, you should come join us. Combeferre’s not allowed to hog you in the kitchen all night.”

“Well, alright.” Enjolras said with a pleased sigh. “Combeferre, you don’t have to stand guard by the phones all night.”

“Agreed. I expect you to join us for karaoke!” Courfeyrac said, dragging Enjolras and Marius into the living room to mingle.

Combeferre eyed his tote bag, which was now fairly heavy. Technically, the no cell phone rule applied to him too, but rules were made to be broken, no? He scrolled through his recent contacts and hit the call button, turning away from the kitchen island so as not to be spotted.

“Hello?”

“Uh, yeah, hello?” Combeferre whispered into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Hello??”

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. You’ve reached Grantaire’s voicemail. My phone is either lost or dead or I just don’t want to pick up, so shoot me a text. If it’s an emergency, call literally anyone else. While you’re here, check out this sick beep.”

There was a beep. Fucker.

Combeferre groaned. He should have known this would happen. He looked at Enjolras, who was laughing at something Feuilly was saying. He was a great friend, Enjolras. Maybe the greatest. He didn’t want gifts or even a fancy party. He just wanted all of his friends under one roof for a night. It wasn’t that much to ask for.

He was going to get what he wanted. Combeferre would see to it.

***

Someone was knocking at the door, and Grantaire was pretty sure he knew who it was, but he opened it anyway. Combeferre was standing arms folded, looking angrier than Grantaire had ever seen him (and Grantaire had seen Combeferre argue about politics.)

“Who buzzed you in?” he asked stupidly.

Combeferre didn’t wait for an invitation, he brushed past Grantaire into the apartment. He looked like he was going to throw a punch. Grantaire almost hoped he would. He was usually better with fists than with words.

“What the fuck?” Combeferre asked. It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Say you got hit in the head and you’re suffering from amnesia, because other than that I can not think of a reason you are in this apartment in pajamas right now.”

Grantaire looked up at Combeferre. “I got hit in the head and I’m suffering from amnesia.” he said.

Combeferre wanted to scream. “Come on.” he said, exercising an impressive amount of restraint. “Get your clothes on. Let’s go.”

“Uh, no, I’m not going. I don’t even know why your here, I already texted Enjolras.”

Combeferre stared at him for a beat, then started rummaging through the tote bag he was carrying. Grantaire blinked in confusion.

“Is that everyone’s phones?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s a screen free party.” Combeferre muttered.

“But you’re here. So nobody at the apartment has a phone. What if there’s an emergency?”

“There won’t be an emergency. Also, Jehan has his phone.” Combeferre had given it to him before he left. He said he was just running out to grab some more drinks, but he was pretty sure Jehan could tell he was lying. He probably should have left the entire bag with Jehan, but he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “Also,” Combeferre added, angrily. “I shouldn’t have had to leave anything with anyone, because you should be at Courfeyrac’s right now.”

Grantaire frowned. Combeferre noticed for the first time how very tired he looked. Very tired, and very unhappy. While he was at it, he also noticed an envelope with Enjolras’ name written in pretty cursive on the coffee table. And an outfit laid carefully out across the couch. Grantaire wasn’t acting his usual self. He seemed . . . more withdrawn. Combeferre always thought of Grantaire as bold and utterly shameless. Maybe this is what it looked like when Grantaire was embarrassed. He went back to looking for Enjolras’ phone.

sorry, can’t make it tonight. wish i could be there, not feeling well. have a blast.

Combeferre read the message aloud. “This is bullshit.” he decided. “I’m deleting this.”

“Oh, you know Enjolras’ password,” Grantaire commented, watching Combeferre. “How sweet.”

“It’s literally 1-2-3-4.” Why did he say that? Now Enjolras would have to change it. Goddamn it.

“Look, I’m actually not feeling well.” Grantaire lied. “So, if you could kindly fuck off? I’d super appreciate it.”

Combeferre looked him up and down. “I think you self sabotage, Grantaire.” he said, earning a mean bark of a laugh from the shorter man.

“Gee thanks. How much do I owe you for this session, doc?”

“Stop, I’m being - I’m trying to be real with you.” Grantaire looked amused by the notion. Combeferre carried on, “Everyone is trying to be friends with you. Why do you insist on making that so difficult?”

“Sorry it’s been such a pain in the ass, I truly am.” Grantaire said, rolling his eyes petulantly. “Look, we all know what kind of friend I am. I’m good for carousing and not much else. It’s no trouble, after all, everyone needs a good drinking buddy, and I am happy to oblige. But this shit? Dinner parties - sorry, not party, thing. And, and, folding laundry together and going for picnics in the park and Saturday brunch or whatever the fuck? That’s not me. Sorry. I really wish it was but, you know. ‘To thine own self be true’ and all that.”

Combeferre folded his arms across his chest. He knew what he needed to ask, but he really, really didn’t want to. Combeferre was a polite person, but what good is politeness if you can’t extend it to people that aren’t always easy to be around? Kind and good, that’s what he tried to be. But maybe he’d find out that he wasn’t kind or good, not really. Not when it counted.

“Grantaire, did I do something to you?”

Grantaire seemed taken aback. “What?”

Combeferre really didn’t want to ask again. “Did I, you know. Is there something I did? Or, I don’t know, do? I just . . . why don’t you like me?”

There was a silence. Grantaire looked at Combeferre, his face twisted in anxiety. This could not be happening.

“Combeferre.” he said slowly. “I don’t dislike you.”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have even - but like. You do hang out with the others. Like I know I’m not always down for whatever, but you’re friends with everyone. You’re friends with fucking Marius Pontmercy, who I literally forgot existed until this week. So I know you like all them, obviously you’re friends with Joly and Bossuet, and you go out with Bahorel and Courfeyrac a lot, and you’re always talking to Feuilly and Jehan about whatever, and obviously you like Enjolras so it’s just me, then. I feel like maybe I did something to you but I don’t know what it was or what it is and I don’t know how to fix it? Or apologize? I don’t know, I know we don’t all have to be friends, like I’m not forcing you to be my friend or anything, but I don’t know. I’d like to be.”

Grantaire frowned. “I hate when you do that.” he said, which is not exactly the response Combeferre was hoping for. His heart sunk.

“Do what?”

“Say stuff about Enjolras like that. Like wink-wink nudge-nudge, obviously you like him and oh my god he totally wanted you here. Like I get it, but you don’t have to make fun.” Grantaire’s eyes were fixed on the ground. His pajama pants didn’t have pockets to shove his hands into, so instead they were sort of nervously pulling at the drawstring.

Combeferre didn’t know what to say. He felt absolutely terrible. “I didn’t - I’m sorry. I never meant to make fun. I just meant that I know you guys have like, you know. You have a different relationship than the rest of us, I guess.”

“Fuck off.” Grantaire said, but it came out quiet and unsure of itself.

“Look, I’m only here because I want Enjolras to have a good birthday. I know my best friend, and I know that he will have a great time and be grateful for everyone who came whether you’re there or not.”

“Okay.” Grantaire said, meeting Combeferre’s eyes at last.

“But I also know that he’s going to be thinking all night about why you didn’t show, and he’s going to bring it up for the next month in the way he does whenever he brings you up as if he’s just casually curious even though he’s a terrible actor. And honestly? Maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to have to deal with all that. Which is why I’m here to bring you to the party.”

“I didn’t know you had a selfish bone in your body.” Grantaire laughed, almost sounding impressed.

“Well, I’m only human.”

“It doesn’t seem like that, sometimes.” Grantaire said. “You three. You seem like something else entirely. Demigods, maybe. Something out of a book.”

“Well, we’re not. We’re people. Get your clothes on, please.”

Maybe for the first time in all of their years of acquaintance, Grantaire nodded and quietly obliged.

***

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Bahorel said, more fond than annoyed. Everyone in the apartment greeted Grantaire with a cheer. He gave a sheepish grin in return.

“You know me. I never miss a party.” he said.

Courfeyrac intercepted Combeferre at the door. “I was wondering where you went.” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Excellent work.”

“Well, you know. It’s his birthday.”

“Speak of the devil.”

Enjolras had made his way from across the apartment to say hello. He looked more beautiful than Grantaire had ever seen him, his golden hair tucked behind his ears, which were blushing pink. Not that this meant much - every time Grantaire looked at Enjolras he seemed more beautiful than the last.

“Glad you could make it.” he said, and he meant it.

“Better late than never, right?” Grantaire joked, but with much more gentleness and much less bravado than he jokes with any of the others. Enjolras usually had this effect on him. “You look nice.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras smiled, and his teeth were so white it was unfair and his eyes were so bright Grantaire could probably sue for damage to his retinas. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

“This is, uh, it’s for you. I know it said no gifts but in my opinion that’s bullshit, so. Here.”

“Thank you.” Enjolras said again. “Can I open it now?”

“It’s your present, so. It’s not much, just a gift card.”

Enjolras tore open the envelope. He looked at the contents curiously. Grantaire felt himself starting to sweat.

“What’s Claire’s?” Enjolras asked.

“The fuck?” Grantaire said, grabbing the gift card. Jesus Christ. “I meant to get a regular one, fuck me. Uh, I’m pretty sure Claire’s is a children’s jewelry store. You could get a phone case. Or pierce your ears, that could be fun! I think I have a receipt at home somewhere, I’ll get it to you and you can get an actual gift card. Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” Enjolras said, beaming. “Thank you.”

“No, uh, thanks for the invite.”

A phone started ringing from inside of Combeferre’s bag. He fished around for a while before finding the culprit. A familiar looking girl’s contact image lit up the screen.

“Marius, it’s your sister.”

Marius’ eyes went wide, and he rushed to grab his phone. “She’s not my sister. Hello?” he said into the speaker, his face contorting into an indecipherable expression before running into the bathroom to take his call. Combeferre couldn’t help but roll his eyes, which Grantaire noticed with a giggle. Courfeyrac had somehow made his way to the top of a stool, and he was clanging a fork to his glass.

“Everyone! Eyes up here! So, who’s ready for a game?!”

[grantairelibere]

Boot

1715. Off the coast of Nassau.

Bahorel swears as he inspects his clothing. The man he’d crossed swords with had been messy with his blade, all taunt and no slash, and as a result his clothes were cut and ruined. He inspects the body. The man appears to be wearing a different boot on each foot, completely useless to him. 

He makes a move to turn and walk away, but bumps his shoulder into someone. A scrawny and soft-spoken man that Bahorel had wagered would not survive his first skirmish. Prouvaire looks a little bloodied, but unrattled. Bahorel swears again as he realizes he now owes R twenty silver pieces. 

Prouvaire acknowledges him with a nod. He removes his boots, crouches, removes the dead man’s boots, and slides the mismatched pair onto his own feet. He stands and wordlessly shoves his old pair into Bahorel’s chest, before heading below deck.

Bahorel looks dumbly in the direction he went. Strange one, he was. He looks at the new pair of boots. They’re actually quite nice. 

1931. Des Moines. 

He stomps away from the mine, pulls out his tobacco pouch, and tosses the helmet to the ground. He wishes he had a light and a cigarette. He was never suited for this shit, but being without it would leave him in dire straits along with the rest of this godforsaken country. Bahorel slumps back against the nearest building on site and chews until he can think again.

A younger man crosses his path, dust-covered overalls way too loose, looking sullenly at the ground. Prouvaire, a guy he would have been able to talk to without resorting to broken English, if he ever spoke. 

“Got the boot too, huh?” he says.

Prouvaire looks startled that someone’s talking to him, then just stops and kicks at the dirt. “Yeah,” he says.

“Gonna stick around in this city?”

“Don’t have much choice.”

“Hm.” Bahorel spits out his wad. “Got someone to look after, then.”

Prouvaire shakes his head. “I came alone. Nowhere else gonna hire a Frenchman but here.”

“Sure.”

They stay silent for a minute, Prouvaire kicking the dirt and Bahorel trying and failing to ascertain just how old he is. Could be anywhere between teens and thirties, a face like that. Seems strangely familiar, in any case.

“I got an extra room, kid. Might not help us with a job, but could do with the company.”

“I’m twenty,” Prouvaire says, jutting out his chin. “Not a kid.”

“Offer stands.”

Prouvaire takes a moment before replying. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be real nice.”

2005. Paris.

Bahorel hates permits. The whole concept of permits. He gets on some level why they exist, but the idea of filling out pages of paperwork just to go somewhere or sell some shit doesn’t sit right. That’s why right now he sits in his car boot by some park, next to all his old clothes, hawking his wares to every passing stranger. He doesn’t need the money, but it sure feels good to stick it to them. Permits, that is.

Someone wanders out of the park in the most garish green jacket, and Bahorel clocks him instantly.

“My tangerine friend, have I got the deal for you,” he says, and waves his hand at the collection of boldly-coloured coats and dangerously short shorts. “All of these, 2€ each.” 

His eyes light up, and he makes a beeline for Bahorel’s car. Wow. That was easy.

Within a minute this dude is holding up a pair of overalls in one hand and some galoshes in the other, and Bahorel is hit with déjà vu. He continues digging through the pile with pure glee and the feeling disappears.

“Take your time, I’ll be here ‘til I’m kicked out,” Bahorel says. And pauses. “What’s your name?”

“Jehan Prouvaire.”

He mouths it to himself, but it’s unfamiliar. “Have we met?” 

“Maybe,” Prouvaire replies, without even looking at him. He hangs more clothes over his arm. “I wander around a lot.”

“Think I’d remember a jacket like that.” He points at the green monstrosity. “I’m Bahorel.”

Prouvaire meets his eyes for the first time and smiles. “Oh yeah, we have. Can’t remember where, though.” 

Bahorel shrugs. “Well, I won't forget now.” He gestures at the pile of clothes in his arms. “Got everything you want?”

Prouvaire looks at his haul. “If I could carry it all, I’d buy you out right here.” 

“I’ll tell you what, Jehan Prouvaire. Same time next week, new park, I’ll be back. There’s loads more where that came from.”

“And the week after that?”

Bahorel laughs. “Different park again. But I’ll be around.”

Prouvaire struggles to get to his own pocket, and hands him a crisp twenty. “Good.”

“See you then, I guess?”

“Yeah. See you next time.”

@themiserablesmonth

[gestalt-archive]

les amis as autocorrect

enjolras: enchilada (um try FRenchilada)

combeferre: confederate

courfeyrac: source read (autocorrect i think you’re mixing up ferre and courf)

jolllly: killjoy (1. how dare you 2. new name for all those fics where people are compelled to make awful things happen to our beloved aile-ing)

bahorel: gabriel (bahorel is definitely one of the terrifying, accurate angels)

bossuet l’esgle: blaster league (..Les Amis Futuristic Space AU? bossuet.. is the spaceships in this au i guess) (wait no he dies early on but his consciousness gets transferred to the ship computers)

feuilly: reilly (or ‘fleury’ according to a highly amusing typo in the Denny translation)

jehan: megan (this is meg’s autocorrect) (how very appropriate in every way)

prouvaire: provide (okay ‘megan provide’ is kind of weird though) (the autocorrect is hungry, it’s sending cryptic distress signals)

grantaire: fantasies (half ironic, half true, very grantaire)

r: e (adshaklfhdaflksa the other side of the coin)

[permets-tu-means-i-love-you]

ExR: "God, I missed you"

Hope this suits your needs anon.

Summary: Enjolras returns home from college nervous that nobody will remember him.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, tell me if you need anything else listed/tagged.

Enjolras was worried. Even though he should be celebrating, he couldn’t shake the anxiety that stuck with him. He had just graduated from law school after seven excruciatingly long years. Now, he was moving back home. This wouldn’t be so much of a problem, except for the fact that he had a large group of friends he hadn’t seen for, what, three years now? Sure, he’d kept in contact, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t seen them face to face in forever.

He tried to visit them every once in a while, but as uni progressed he’d had less and less time to do so. Instead, regular texting was how they had to communicate, but even that had slowed down as more and more work had been piled onto Enjolras’ workload. It’s not like he’d been avoiding them, he just hadn’t had much time to do anything other than schoolwork.

As he taped the last of his moving boxes, he looked around his now empty dorm room. Seeing it so lifeless only made him more anxious about leaving. He had lived in this room for seven long, stressful years. Now he had to go back to a place he barely remembered. 

A tiny, nagging voice in the back of his head appeared, bringing unwanted thoughts with it. “And you’re back to people who barely remember you. They haven’t seen you for three years, why would they want to see you now?”

“That’s not true,” Enjolras said, thinking aloud. “I texted them last night and they said they were glad I was coming back.”

“But remember how long it took them to reply? It took them an hour to just read the text. And Combeferre was the only one who replied. Sure sounds like excitement to me. They don’t want you back, they only replied out of pity.”

He tried to argue with the intrusive thoughts, but anything he did only made them worse. He tried using various distraction tactics Jehan had showed him, but those didn’t help either.

“What if when you get back everyone hates you? What if you get back and nobody remembers you? What if you get back and you blackout and murder everybody? What if-”

Overwhelmed with anxiety, he instinctively started tapping a rhythm against his leg. He focused on that until he couldn’t hear the thoughts anymore, then picked up the last box and walked outside.

Once the last box had been neatly arranged in the back of his car, he sat down in the driver’s seat but hesitated before turning the key. There was still one train of thought that stuck with him.

“What if when you get back, Grantaire hates you? What if when you get back Grantaire doesn’t remember you? What if you get back and something’s happened to Grantaire?”

These thoughts had been plaguing his mind for longer than he’d like to admit. He’d been in love with Grantaire for some time, but he’d never told him. He’d kept his feelings bottled up for years, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. His anxiety increased every time he thought of how reuniting with his friends, but more specifically, Grantaire would go. He decided to stop thinking about it, but that didn’t do much to calm his fears.

He started the ignition and began the hour-long drive, only his thoughts, and The Greatest Showman soundtrack for company. It was going to be a very, very long drive…

~~~

Grantaire woke to the sound of his phone going off like a siren, a million notifications screeching to be acknowledged. Still half asleep, he reached over to grab his phone, almost dropping it in the process. He turned on his phone to see more than 100 messages in the group chat, all of them probably important. He glanced at the time and almost fell off of his bed. Now wide awake, he scrambled to throw on some clothes.

“Courf is going to kill me,” he thought as he rushed out the door, scrambling to get to the Musain. “It’s 1 am and I just woke up. I thought I had an alarm set…”

While it wouldn’t be much of a problem any other day, today was the day Enjolras finally got back from uni. It had been years since he last saw him, and he had been texting less and less. It was understandable, given that he was in his graduating year, but it had still hurt when a text went unanswered for days.

Grantaire burst through the doors of the Musain to find everything arranged perfectly, waiting for Enjolras. Then he heard a voice from the other room.

“Is that Grantaire? Move aside ‘Ferre, I need to commit a crime.”

Courfeyrac entered the room, glaring at Grantaire with a murderous rage. 

“And just where have you been? You were supposed to help make the decorations! And help with the baking!”

“Would you believe me if I said I got… uh… caught in… traffic?”

“You live, like, a block away. Wait, do you even have a car? Nevermind, I don’t care. What I do care about is you showing up hours late! What is wrong with you!”

“Many things, but the relevant problem would be that my alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to. Either that or I slept through it.”

Courfeyrac sighed, looking disappointed but not surprised. “At least you came… Well, since there’s nothing left to do, I guess you can just hang out until he gets here.”

Courfeyrac walked away and Grantaire sat down at a table, wondering if it was too early to start drinking. Suddenly, Combeferre rushed in through the door carrying a bag of chips.

“He’s coming! Everyone get out here, quick!”

Everyone scrambled out into the open, smiling excitedly and chattering loudly. After a few seconds, the noise died down as everyone waited in anticipation for Enjolras to walk through the door. Grantaire couldn’t see him come in over the crowd, but he did see the top of the door swing open and everyone rush toward him as they yelled “Surprise!”

The place erupted with laughs and smiles, talking about things they’ve missed out on and things to update Enjolras about. After everyone backed off and stopped crowding him so intensely, Grantaire tried to see him through the crowd with no luck. He wasn’t going to stand and try to push to the front, he wasn’t even that sure if Enjolras even wanted to see him.

He heard Eponine loudly announce how much she’d missed him and how she hated him for leaving her alone to deal with Courfeyrac, earning a very indignant “Hey!” from a fake-insulted Courf. He heard Enjolras and Eponine talk some more, not quite making out what they were saying. He zoned out, tuning back in when he heard his name.

“...Where’s Grantaire,” Enjolras said, sounding… anxious?

“Knowing him, he’s either still asleep or off somewhere drunk already,” Eponine said, trying not to laugh.

“Truly inspiring words, ‘Ponine. I can see how valued and noticeable I am in this friend group,” Grantaire said, voice dripping with sarcasm. The crowd parted as they turned to face him, and he could see Enjolras staring at him, a strange expression on his face.

“God, I missed you,” Enjolras said softly, almost too softly to hear. Grantaire smiled and stood up. He walked over to Enjolras and took his hands in his own.

“I missed you too.”

“Can I kiss you,” Enjolras asked, nervous but hopeful.

“Yeah,” he replied, not quite believing what was happening.

Then Enjolras’ lips were on his and everything else vanished. It felt like they stayed that way for years, but when Enjolras pulled away it was still too soon. 

“I told you something would happen.”

“Shut up Courf!”

Grantaire turned round to see a smug Courfeyrac receiving twenty dollars from a disgruntled Bahorel.

“Wait a second, did you guys bet on this,” Grantaire asked, shooting a glare their way.

“Yeah, and if you’d been here on time like the rest of us, you would’ve known,” Courfeyrac replied with a smirk.

Grantaire looked back at Enjolras who seemed embarrassed but not surprised. Grantaire rolled his eyes at the others, earning a small laugh from Enjolras.

“Alright Grantaire, don’t think that because you two idiots finally did something about those feelings of yours you’ll get to hog Enjolras. Especially because I called first dibs,” Courfeyrac said.

“You can’t call dibs Courfeyrac,” Combeferre replied.

“I can and I will,” he said, skipping over to Enjolras and Grantaire. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to steal my best friend for a moment.”

Courfeyrac grabbed Enjolras’ elbow dragging him away. Enjolras shot an amused look back at Grantaire before being hauled back into the crowd, Grantaire close behind him.

[coolrobotsupremacist]

Modern Les Mis AU this. Modern Les Mis AU that. Star Wars Les Mis AU when

!!!!!!!!! Not soon enough

The scales have fallen from my eyes, my whole world changed in just one flash of light, Star Wars is the logical place to go for a les mis AU and I can't believe I didn't see it before now. The existence of destiny, the importance and possibility of redemption, heroic doomed rebels, DEmOCraCy.

Weird mix of headcanons and plot? Below.

Jean Valjean as a kind young Jedi trying to keep order in the galaxy even as the Clone Wars escalate. He works himself to the home because he knows that in addition to defending the republic he is also keeping the galaxy safe for his family though he hasn't seen them since he was a child. Order 66 happens and he flees back to his family but is devastated to find them missing, presumed dead. The trauma of war was for nothing and he flees, falling to the darkside and living as an outlaw from both the newly formed Empire. A massive bounty on his head because he's one of the last Jedi known to be alive. Valjean gives into his worst impulses and lives from day to day doing whatever he needs to do to survive and evade the Empire. He stops thinking about the innocent people who might get hurt along the way until one day he comes across a Jedi temple and out pops Myriel.

Big redemption time.

Myriel fixes him up with a new identity and valjean sets out again a slightly less broken man.

Javert is a Bounty Hunter who, unlike most other bounty hunters, refuses to deal with criminals and only chases bounties put out by the Empire. He wears what looks suspiciously like a reclaimed Stormtrooper armour and everyone is too afraid to ask( isn't the point of this job that we DON'T have to wear uniforms)

Fantine meets Tholomyès on Coruscant and when he abandons her she decides to go off world to find work and a new, safe home for her and Cosette.

Cosette is kidnapped by the Thenardiers who are at the height of their power and influence as a family that controls a fleet of pirate spaceships and are on the lookout for force sensitive children to mould into a private army of force users. Fantine, desperate to get her back, turns to the most dangerous and lucrative profession she can find and becomes a bounty hunter in order to raise enough money to hire a team of mercenaries to save Cosette. She ends up teaming up for a bounty with Javert, who wants her help infiltrating a mining station because he suspects something fishy is going on as it's not turning the profit it should be, this just turns out to be its workers being paid a fair wage but Javert is vindicated because, gasp, guess who owns the station?

Hijinks ensue but Valjean eventually agrees to be taken in because he hears why Fantine needs the money and as he's already been exposed as an outlaw he knows he can't do any more good at the station. Fantine shoves Javert down a rubbish shoot and brings in Valjean herself, taking all of the bounty. Then she immediately breaks him out again and they go and rescue Cosette.

Cool battle ensues pew pew pew smash SMASH BOOM. They rescue most of the children and find them good homes all over the galaxy then flee with Cosette to one of the few Jedi temples left. Knowing Star Wars that temple is probably on a desert planet. Thenardiers pirate empire is essentially crippled and he is left with only a few of his child soldiers. He swears vengeance.

Years later Marius is a Prince of a planet with a suitably keysmashy name Snarfan-5? Snarfan-5. With his grandfather as regent Marius trusts that the right thing to do is agree to the demands of the Empire, until he finds out that his Father was a Mandalorian who didn't abandon him but was killed when the Empire attempted genocide in all the Mandalorians. Marius buys a helmet which he vows to never take off until he restores Madalore to its former glory, and starts to reclaim his roots which he's fairly sure have something to do with being good at fighting? He'll figure it out as he goes. Hopefully he can find this Thenardier guy who once saved his father's life.

Then he runs away to join the rebellion.

Enjolras was a Padawan before the republic fell who escaped Order 66, he never got to finish his training and accepts that the Jedi Order had a lot wrong with it but that didnt stop him from internalising all that stuff about the only acceptable love being vague love for people as a whole. He only used his force abilities when absolutely necessary: he considers it an unfair advantage.

Combeferre is fascinated by the force as it's both a proven scientific phenomena and a religion? Wild. When he was a child he wanted to work as a diplomat travelling from planet to planet, solving problems peacefully. Part of him hopes that if enough systems band together, they can force the Empire to yield peacefully.

Coufeyrac doesn't need the force to let you feel the love hes primarily a pilot and picks up Marius on a supply run. Not in the least bit force sensitive, cheerfully so.

Feuilly used to work in a workshop that made cybernetic limbs. He taught himself how to use the force without really understanding until later how unheard of it was. His long-term goal is to rebuild the Jedi without all the toxic feeling repression. He's most fluent in droid because he grew up around them and he really hates how people often treat droids as expendable machinery.

Prouvaire knows about force ghosts, we all know what he's doing with his time.

Joly has taken 345 vaccines for diseases which aren't transmissible to humans but better to be safe than sorry, right? He's always excited to go to a new planet because it means he can research local diseases/medicine.

Bossuet has been accidentally shoved out of 345 airlocks.

Grantaire is technically a darksider. He was a Padawan at the same time as Enjolras but struggles to live by the Jedi code, and was pretty easily seduced to the dark side as a result but he made an even worse Sith than he did a Jedi because he couldn't jam with the cruelty and sadism. Upon realising that the Sith were actually philosophically evil instead of just really liking the aesthetic he sort of sheepishly slips out the back door. The lesson he took from this is that there is no right way to wield power: you either become ineffectual monks or megalomaniac sadists so the only option is to give up. He eventually nominally joins the resistance and he keeps having horrible force visions about all his friends dying which he trys to drown out with copious amounts of alcohol(it never works). 

Bahorel is a Wookie. I don't think that requires further explanation.

Marius settles in with them although he learns to keep his mouth shut about the glorious old days of the Mandalorian empire.

Thenardier tried to train his few remaining child soldiers by throwing sharp objects at them. Long story short Eponine still can't use the force and only has one ear but she is very good at dodging things. Gavroche escaped on his own and is basically a 13 year old Han Solo. He stole a novelty yacht in the shape of an elephant, despite this hugely distinctive ship he has never been gotten close to bring caught. Has close ties with the resistance.

Cosette is taught at Fantines insistence how to use the force and blast people to hell and back, she learns these skills pretty well but more importantly Cosette is given more love that any one person needs so she grows up to be exactly as kind and loving as she is in canon. Valjean is secretly delighted to have a Padawan but also scared that he's going to pass his icky Sith germs onto Cosette. Blasters are Fantines speciality; she teaches Cosette to shoot first. They are eventually honest about their pasts with Cosette, mostly because it would be dangerous not to be. Cosette makes the decision to leave dispute the danger not wanting to live in hiding for the rest of her life.

There's a prophesy about a chosen one and everyone keeps mistakenly assigning it to Enjolras but it's very very clearly about Cosette

[eponinemylove]

les amis in high school!

okay so this idea came out of nowhere and bodyslammed me in the middle of lunch and it’s my civic duty to now share it with all of you!

Enjolras is... how you say... chaotic. He is either a teacher’s absolute favorite or the bane of their existence, and there is no in between

Despite his alarming number of detentions, referrals, and likewise complaints, principal JVJ never suspends him

superintendent Javert is trying to build a case against JVJ to have him removed from that position bc he suspects that he isn’t handling disciplinary actions appropraitely. It drives him fucking crazy that he can’t because there’s no teachers or staff who have anything bad to say about JVJ, and somehow people in high positions keep... vouching for him?

it shouldn’t be possible for JVJ to have that many convenient friends in just the right place to block the investigation, but he does and they all swear he’s a good honest man and is the only competent principal, ever. also he managed to save their ass one time or another and stopped them from getting fired sooo

ANYWAYS back to the amis

Enjolras is what Javert and the school APs like to call a problem child. He will rage at every injustice he sees, systematic or otherwise, which is to say, a fuckton. He starts protests, organizes walkouts, does sit-ins in the cafeteria, and has exactly 0 qualms about tearing a teacher/administrator a new one

He meets the other amis in detention

Joly is there because an AP saw jbm showing (minimal!! barely any) PDA and lost her fucking shit, screaming about how innapropriate they were being. Musichetta is in it for cussing out the AP right back and demanding that she apologize to her boyfriends. Bossuet is actually there for like 3 different things (one of which is just bc he got way too many tardies and got an automatic detention) but the AP didn’t check and sent him anyways, even though he was already going that day. He’s just always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Combeferre got detention bc he was a sarcastic little shit to a kid and the teacher overhead (the kid deserved it tho). Also he helps Enj organize/conduct the sit-ins and stuff, so he’s guilty by association

Same for Coufreyac, but he’s also too loud/talkative/hyperactive in class and ends up getting in trouble with the teachers

Bahorel and eponine both got in (different) fights that day. Eponine never actually gets detention though so that was pretty much her only interaction with the group

Jehan’s teacher thought he “wasn’t paying attention” in class and being “intentionally unresponsive”. Homeboy was really just overstimulated and couldn’t concentrate properly on the reading, but what can you do

Feuilly absolutely doesn’t deserve to be in detention as much as he is. He’s really tired from work and school and so he misses a couple of assignments and occasionally skips his last class so that he can go home and shower/rest before his shift. That’s literally the only reason he’s in detention. Other than that he’s a great student except for the part where he always joins Enjolras in his demonstrations. No one has caught him yet and connected it, otherwise he’d probably be in detention for that too

Also, Grantaire is just always in detention. He sits in the back and usually doesn’t say much, if anything, to anyone besides Joly, Musichetta, and Bousset. Enj thinks that he has it for the entire year, but he’s not even sure how that’s possible. Enjolras starts a new protest every week and even he hasn’t managed that. He doesn’t ask.

After that key first meeting of everyone in detention, the amis get along way too well and decide to start a “club”. Basically it’s just them meeting after school and complaining about everything the APs and teachers do wrong, strategizing, and organizing their protests. 

The APs refuse to accept their club. Enjolras gets shut down in like .5 seconds

BUT eponine suggests that they take it to JVJ, and so they do. JVJ approves it, and the club stays. They name it Les Amis d’lABC (obv)

Marius accidentally joints the club. Courfreyac has been begging him to come to a meeting and he honestly thinks that it’s SGA. He almost books it as soon as he meets Enjolras, but at this point he’s too embarrassed and so he just decides to join. Enjolras doesn’t like him very much but he’s Courf’s friend and also he’s dating JVJ’s niece, so.

Speaking of, Cosette comes one meeting because Marius does, and oh my god, they love her. Everyone is so confused as to how she’s dating someone like Marius (he’s not that bad!) but they don’t say anything

Seriously though, she’s great. She’s so funny and kind and she’s full of amazing ideas that help their plans. Even Enjolras adores her

Anyways the Amis fuck a bunch of shit up for administration bc they’re not doing their jobs and also the amis all have issues with authority (Javert is pissed)

So at this point y’all are thinking that Enjolras is pretty much a teacher’s worst nightmare, right?

WRONG

It’s Grantaire

Grantaire is infamous among teachers. They tremble at the sight of him. He will start shit just to start shit. It’s amusing to him. He’ll argue with the teachers over anything, the most random shit, and derail the entire class. God help you if he ever gets bored, because that’s when he makes the most mischief.

The thing is though... every time he’s being an asshole and arguing with the teacher about something... he always has a point. That’s the most infuriating part for them

Like, it’s not because he actually cares about the curriculum or policy or loophole that he noticed, because he doesn’t. But he’ll point it out and debate it because he’s antagonistic and this is fun, and he’ll always have valid reasoning and a legit point. Teachers start to think he’s planning this out, but he’s literally not. He just notices all these failings and he strings them together but doesn’t actually say anything about it until he has nothing better to do. And the teachers can’t even really argue because he’s right!! That shouldn’t be happening, or that doesn’t make any sense. Damn it, R, I don’t know why, don’t you talk to Principal ValJean?

When he’s not arguing with teachers, which is rare, he actually gets along pretty good with them. He knows at least 3 by name, and all his teachers call him R. He’s a good student (academically), too. He does amazing in all his classes, excluding math and science (which is basically just Math with explosions), even though he never seems to be paying any attention in class. Like, he’ll literally sleep through a lesson or just completely do his own thing, but he’ll get an A on the test and all his homework gets handed in on time and it’s actually well thought out and written

Most of his teachers hate him, but they can’t do anything about it because he’s right, he’s just really obnoxious. His math and English teacher love him though, and are always talking to him after class and in the halls

Enjolras hears about R a lot, mostly from disgruntled students and staff. He can’t figure out who this kid is but he sounds perfect. He overhead a senior complaining about him in her history class because R called the teacher out for sending a girl home for her ripped jeans. R stood up on the desk wearing the same ripped jeans and went on a rant about how sexist that policy was and how her outfit distracted no one and was not a problem, but the teacher was, and now he was disrupting her education, and he’s a sexist prick, etc etc. Apparently the entire class joined in and nothing got done all period and now they all have 10+ pages of homework and didn’t get the review for the test tomorrow. The teacher agreed to push it back for their period, but R got an automatic F and the senior girl is pissed because now she has 3 tests that day and no time to study and do all the extra homework

Enjolras swoons

He tells the Amis about it after school and Courf laughs so hard he’s wheezing. Everyone is in complete support of R and Enj says something about how they should recruit him for their club

Musichetta says she’ll ask him if he wants to come but Courf said he probably won’t

Enjolras loses his shit because “You guys know him?? Can I meet him???”

Everyone is so confused

“Enj, you’ve met Grantaire. Didn’t you take Spanish with him freshman year or something? And you’re always in detention with him??”

Enjolras feels like the biggest idiot ever because of course R is Grantaire. He’s a dumbass

Meanwhile Grantaire has been harboring the biggest crush on Enj for the last 2 years but Enjolras can’t (seemingly) stand him for the most part and he actually doesn’t get along with him that well so he’s resigned himself to Oh well, I guess I’ll just drool over him in detention

Enjolras just has a killer RBF, he doesn’t hate Grantaire at all and is mortified when he finds out what R had assumed

Anyway Grantaire joins their stupid club even though he doesn’t actually care that much. He argues a lot with Enjolras just to be a dick (poor Enj is so confused bc he knows Grantaire doesn’t agree with the side of the arguement he’s taking so why) but, again, he brings up a couple of good points as annoying as they are

Ok I’m going to stop here let me know if y’all want a part 2

[emptymasks]

How can I live when you are gone?

so this is what happens when you don't watch or listen to les mis for seven years even though it's one of your favourite musicals and then you watch the all star cast recording and empty chairs gets you as much as it did the first time you heard it and you instantly have to write this as soon as the musical is over. because it would seem all i am able to write now is angst.

and it's in first person? and present tense?? i gave in and wrote first person for that and then idk i got so into marius' head that this just came out in both first person and present tense. writing friends don't shoot me for writing in present tense, i never do and i don't know what happened this just came spewing out without my even thinking about it.

warnings for: Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD | Night Terrors | Nightmares | Anxiety Attacks | Survivor Guilt | Heavy Angst

I awake in a sweat. This is the usual way I awake now.

The guns echo in my ears: hold, fire, hold, fire, hold, fire, fire, fire. The air is sawdust and gunpowder as everything splinters to fragments. Splinters of wood and bone. And they fall like hail from the sky and then from all sides.

And everything runs red. Red, our desire and our love now running and trodden through in the gutter, between the cobblestones. Red: the flag is torn to shreds. Red, the blood sweeps through our waistcoats. Red, Enjorlas topples lifelessly over the barricade. Once so full of life, glory and determination never leaving his eyes as his hair bounced in the wind and his smile was wild and inspired every one of us. Enjorlas, my dear friend... my friend... my friends...

Enjolras, Grantaire, Feuilly - their names are a mantra in my head that will not be forgotten - Joly, Courfeyrac, Combeferre - they will not be forgotten - Jean, Bahorel, Bossuet - I can not let them be forgotten - little Gavroche, Epoinine...

My fingers clutch at the sheets and pull them to my chest, against my skin and ribs and my heart beating out of my chest. And I curl in on myself. My legs thrash. The sheets are too white, too clean. Everything is too clean. Too clean and too soft.

Soft. Soft hands, softer than sheets reach for me and try to hold me, but I shake. I shake violently and sob. I weep and weep and the bed is too soft and I all but crawl out of it and fall to my knees on the floor. The painful thud against my knees is something to cling too.

Her soft hands are there again and she is on her knees too, kneeling before me and beside me like a saint. Her hands sooth my forehead. She does not try to touch my body as we have both learnt how I react to that when I’m in this state. Hands, even as gentle as hers, once upon me feel like the bodies and the rubble and the sheets over me feel like the stinking water I can scarcely remember in the day but in the hours of the night creep in like the chill of the wind through an open window; I cannot see it but feel it in my bones.

"Hush, Marius," She whispers and sings a vibrato through my nerves. Her thumbs sweep the sweat from my brow, down my temples, my brow, my cheekbones. Fingers flutter against my eyelashes as she pulls me from myself and draws me to look at her.

And when my eyes can bear to move and let her face grace them, she smiles.

I do not deserve her.

My Cosette, sweet Cosette. Mine and I am hers, and was hers since our eyes first met. But I am not that man, not now, perhaps not ever.

Though through my broken spirit her smile lights up every dark corner. How could it not? I cry and I scream and I shake and she is patient and kind.

And she loves me.

Despite it all, she loves me and praises me each, looks at the small things I barely manage to do and sees some triumph in them. That as if for me to merely get out of bed is a great feat.

Well... isn't it?

I have heard of men ending their lives who've less death than I. Not that I blame or judge them. But she reminds me to think of what I have lost, and that by still being here it only shows how strong I am.

I think it is she who is strong, to be thrust into my pain after hardly knowing the world at all, and taking it all in her stride. She's so graceful with it, as if everything that should cause her doubt and turmoil only makes her hold her head higher.

And I love her.

I love her, I love her, I love her.

And my breathing slows as her fingers ripple through my hair and she coaxes me back onto the bed, doesn't force my body under the covers nor my head under the pillow. She lets me fall onto her lap as she hums song old familiar tune.

I will fall back to sleep again soon and I will not wake until morning.

And tomorrow night this will happen again.

But she will be there, ready to hold the pieces of me together until I find the strength to do it myself.

also the 'enjorlas falling over the barricade' comes from the musical and in particular i was thinking about this performance with drew sarich as enjorlas (i love him as enjorlas i don't care if he was an understudy) in the 2006-2007 broadway revival where instead of the set parting to show enjorlas' body on the cart, the whole barricade spins around and shows him fallen and laying on the otherside of the barricade's wall (video link in the replies to this post if you’re interested) is the clip that inspired the enjorlas description. marius in this is inspired by rob houchen in the 2019 ' all star' concert.

it's also been brought to my attention by an american friend of mine that the enjorlas/grantaire interactions are played down in the broadway versions compared to the west end so i'm sorry you guys don't get to see them hug every night.

also while i was writing this i got slight marius/enjorlas vibes and i have no idea if that is a ship or how popular it is if it is one but i sort of like it? the idea of determined enjorlas trying to get this hopefully romantic to not get himself killed. idk.

just searched around and found only one post for marius/enjorlas and it was someone asking if anyone else shipped it. well done beck you’ve done it again, gotten into a ship with zero content

*big sigh* i guess now that means i have to make said content don’t i

[kjack89]

Christmas Wish

Modern AU, E/R, established relationship, misunderstandings with a happy ending. Because sometimes you have to make your own entirely self-indulgent Christmas present :)

“A young boy has just come running out of the park...Let me see if I can get a comment...Did you see anything?”

“It's the real Santa! His sleigh can't fly cause nobody believes in him!”

“Now, this is feeling more and more like some kind of elaborate Christmas hoax.”

“Typical,” Combeferre said dismissively over the sound of Elf playing from the TV in Courfeyrac’s living room as all of Les Amis lounged around, ostensibly watching the film, which was one of their holiday traditions. “The mainstream media agenda at work, propping up a capitalist system by decreasing belief in Santa Claus.”

Grantaire snorted and shifted from where he was lying on the couch, his feet propped up on Bossuet and his head resting in Enjolras’s lap. “I realize that you deny nothing, which apparently extends to Santa Claus, but I don’t think you can dismiss lack of belief in the Big Guy as a media coverup.”

“Besides, all you need is to call it the ‘lamestream’ media and you’ll sound more like a QAnon supporter than anything else,” Jehan added blithely, ignoring the wounded noise that Combeferre made at the insinuation.

“You take that back—” he started, but Courfeyrac elbowed him.

“Shh,” he scolded, “I’m trying to watch.”

Combeferre rubbed his ribs and grimaced. “Right, because we haven’t seen this movie a hundred times before,” he muttered.

Courfeyrac ignored him as the kid in the movie flipped through Santa’s book. 

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Charlotte Dennon, New York 1.”

“Lemme see...Charlotte Dennon wants a ‘Tiffany engagement ring, and for your boyfriend to stop dragging his feet and commit already’!”

Courfeyrac cackled and for some reason twisted around to smirk at Grantaire. “Looks like the film writers cribbed from Grantaire’s Christmas list for that one,” he teased.

Most of the other Amis laughed at that, though Enjolras frowned, his hand stilling from where he had been running it through Grantaire’s hair. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, and Grantaire squirmed, trying to get Enjolras to resume stroking his hair.

Courfeyrac arched an eyebrow at him. “It means that you and Grantaire have been dating for, what, five years now?” he said, as if the answer were obvious. 

“Off and on,” Enjolras said, feeling defensive even if he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Right, so five years of dating, and you’ve been living together for two years now…” Courfeyrac trailed off and Enjolras just stared blankly at him. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Leave it alone,” Joly said, a little sharply. “Not everyone wants to be married and live in the suburbs with two point five kids, a dog, and a white picket fence.”

“Though to be fair, there is nothing wrong with wanting that,” Cosette piped up, patting Marius’s hand loyally.

Marius glanced at her. “Is the point five part of the kids negotiable at least?”

Bahorel cleared his throat. “Can we please,” he started, an unspoken threat clear in every word, “go back to watching the damn movie?”

Everyone fell silent, all remembering far too well the Sound of Music fist fight of 2016, where Bahorel took Jehan’s then-boyfriend outside to beat him up for mocking the movie. The rest of the movie passed in relative silence, and once it was over, everyone took their leave. 

“Merry Christmas Eve Eve,” Courfeyrac said as he held the door open for Enjolras and Grantaire. Combeferre cleared his throat pointedly from behind him and Courfeyrac reluctantly added, “And, uh, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire said easily, giving Courfeyrac a one-armed hug before he and Enjolras left.

But Enjolras was not so quick to forget, and he was silent as they walked towards their place, the chilly December night lending itself better to walking than waiting for an Uber. After the silence between them had stretched for several minutes, Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire, who sighed. “Don’t,” he said warningly, and Enjolras scowled.

“Don’t what?” he asked defensively.

“Don’t even start.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “I have no idea—”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him. “You weren’t going to bring up what Courfeyrac said?” he asked pointedly.

“No,” Enjolras said immediately, and when Grantaire just gave him a look, he sighed and amended, “Ok, yes, I was, but—”

“But Courfeyrac has a shitty sense of humor sometimes,” Grantaire interrupted with forced levity. “That doesn’t mean we need to ruin our Christmas Eve Eve by indulging his idiotic fantasies.”

Enjolras glanced at his watch. “Technically, it’s now actually Christmas Eve.”

“And that’s not the point.”

Enjolras made a face. “No, it’s not,” he agreed, hesitating before giving Grantaire a sideways glance. “And you’re not normally that rude about our friends. At least, not behind their backs. You’re plenty rude to their faces.”

Grantaire didn’t quite meet Enjolras’s eyes. “Yeah, well, our friends normally know better than to stir up things that they shouldn’t,” he muttered.

Enjolras seized the opportunity. “Since it has been stirred up—” he started, and Grantaire snorted.

“Hell of a segue.”

“—I think it’s something we should talk about,” Enjolras finished doggedly.

Grantaire groaned. “Must we?”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Is there a reason you don’t want to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Grantaire said sourly. “That’s a neat trick.”

Enjolras nudged him. “So is deflection.”

Grantaire sighed. “Fine. The reason I don’t want to is because it’s Christmas. And we’re supposed to be, y’know, holly jolly and shit.”

“Holly jolly and shit,” Enjolras repeated, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Well that certainly captures the festive mood.”

But Grantaire didn’t seem amused. “You know what I mean.”

“So why do you think talking about this will ruin the holly jolly mood you’ve clearly gone to great lengths to cultivate?” Enjolras asked mildly.

“Because I don’t think this conversation is going to have the outcome you’re hoping for.”

Grantaire delivered the words bluntly, but Enjolras didn’t flinch. “Because you want us to get married and I don’t,” he guessed, less a question than a statement.

To his surprise, Grantaire barked a laugh. “No,” he said, with actual amusement, “quite the opposite.”

Enjolras stopped in his tracks. “Wait, you don’t want to get married?” he asked, a little stupidly.

“Absolutely not.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Like, you don’t want to get married to me, or you don’t want to get married at all?”

It was Grantaire’s turn to stop in his tracks, turning to face Enjolras, something urgent in his expression. “I love you.”

Enjolras looked warily at him. “I know, and I love you, too. But why—”

Grantaire shook his head. “I just don’t want you to go into this conversation that you insist on having with any kind of doubt in your mind about that.”

Enjolras’s expression softened. “I never would doubt that,” he said, tugging Grantaire close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “So you love me, and I love you, and like Courfeyrac said, we’ve been dating for years, living together for years...isn’t marriage the next logical step?”

“For some people, sure,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean it needs to be for us.”

“Because you don’t want to get married.”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Are you telling me that you do want to get married?”

“No,” Enjolras said, a little too quickly, and he winced. “I mean, not because of you. If I were to marry anyone, it would be you. I’m just...not big on the institution of marriage, the perpetuation of the patriarchy, certain segments of the gay community acting like marriage equality was the end of the fight for equal rights…” He trailed off. “But you know all of that.”

“I sure do.”

Enjolras frowned slightly. “So is that why you don’t want to get married? Because you think I don’t want to?”

Again Grantaire laughed, and again, it took Enjolras by surprise. “Enjolras, believe me, if I wanted to be married to you, we’d be married, whether you wanted to or not.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that you’re historically terrible at denying me something that you think I really want,” Grantaire said easily. “Which is probably a consent issue that we should discuss more some time, but that’s not really the point.”

It wasn’t, so Enjolras didn’t press it. “So you really just don’t want to marry me?”

“Not so much, no,” Grantaire agreed.

“But...this is – this is a forever thing for me,” Enjolras said, before hesitating. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” Grantaire said instantly.

“And don’t you want this forever too?”

Grantaire grinned at him. “There is absolutely nothing I want more.”

“Then why…?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this at Christmas,” he said. “Total mood killer.” Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire sighed again. “I don’t want to be married to you because if we were married, you would never divorce me, or walk away, no matter how much you might want to.”

“I—” Enjolras started, but he couldn’t seem to find any words to say to that.

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

As much as Enjolras wanted to tell him that he was, he knew better than to try. “No.”

Grantaire nodded. “Because when you make a promise, you keep it. It’s just who you are.” His tone turned fond. “Too damned stubborn to admit defeat, no matter how much you should.”

Enjolras frowned. “Ok, but again, isn’t that what you want?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

Grantaire cocked his head slightly. “You think that I would want you locked into a marriage, which is an institution you don’t even believe in, just so that you could never leave me?”

“I—” Enjolras broke off, flustered. “Honestly, I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Wise man. I don’t want you to be with me because you have to be with me. I want to know that you are with me because you want to be, not because you made some arbitrary vow.” Enjolras opened his mouth to interrupt but Grantaire didn’t let him. “I want to wake up every day in your arms and know without a question of a doubt that you could walk away any time you wanted, but that you choose to stay. That’s what I want. And I’d like to think that’s what you want, too.”

For a long moment, Enjolras was silent, staring at Grantaire as if he’d never quite seen him before. “Well,” he finally managed around the lump in his throat, “when you put it like that...”

He didn’t even bother trying to finish his sentence, just cupping Grantaire’s cheek with one mittened hand and kissing him deeply. Grantaire returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, balling his hands in Enjolras’s red coat.

They stayed that way for a long time, long enough that when they pulled away from each other, they both immediately looked up at the sky. “Is that snow?” Enjolras asked stupidly.

But Grantaire just laughed, and Enjolras smiled at him. “What?” he asked.

“We are kissing in the snow on Christmas Eve,” Grantaire said, grinning up at the flakes swirling from the sky. “If this were a very different story, you’d get down on one knee right now and ask me to marry you, and we’d have a happily ever after for Christmas straight out of a Hallmark movie.”

“If Hallmark wasn’t a bunch of homophobic cowards, anyway,” Enjolras grumbled good naturedly.

Grantaire just laughed and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Enjolras said, grinning, and without warning, he took a step back from Grantaire before kneeling down on one knee. “And you’ve just given me an idea.”

“What are you doing?” Grantaire asked, staring at him. “Did you seriously just not listen to a word I said, or…?”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, “I absolutely listened to everything you’ve said, because I love listening to you talk. I love everything about you. You don’t want to get married. I don’t want to get married. And I know better than to make a promise to you, even if you deserve all the promises in the world. But it is Christmas, and it’s snowing, and I love you more than anyone in the world. So Grantaire, I have to ask – will you not marry me?”

“You are such a fucking dork,” Grantaire said, exasperatedly. “Of course I will not marry you.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, satisfied, and he stood up, kissing Grantaire once more before taking his hand. :Now let’s go home. I want to make love to the love of my life.:

“Romantic,” Grantaire said with a snort, but he was grinning.

“Whom I will never marry,” Enjolras added.

“You sure know how to woo a boy,” Grantaire said wryly, still grinning, and he leaned in and kissed Enjolras’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Enjolras.”

Enjolras wrapped his arm around Grantaire’s waist, turning to kiss Grantaire lightly on top of his head. “Merry Christmas, Grantaire,” he whispered.

[bossuet-lesgle]

hi im here to talk about exr star wars because i swear it is my favourite goddamn thing and i just wanna hear any and all headcanons u have..? ur writing is fucking amazing man i love it xx

i literally almost screamed when i got this ask tysm for taking the time to appreciate how goddamn good les mis and star wars are (also thank you!! so much!!! for the compliment!!! its been a long time since ive written not-engineering-grad-school things that it means a lot that you still like my creative writing things!!!!!)

anyway so this au started as kind of a joke but has since merged into something im actually invested in so if any of what i say contradicts other things ive said, please know the au is v fluid. im gonna put everything under a read more bc it might get a bit long

so R was a smuggler working in the outer rim prior to meeting enjolras. he didn’t agree with the empire, but he also sort of figured it wasn’t really his problem. he had never been able to get behind a cause, never been willing to risk his life for some greater good that probably wouldnt come anyway. he was a pretty decent pilot and was good at breaking the law for credits, so he never questioned the status quo.

he has a small crew consisting of bahorel and musichetta on their ship farouche (which like, i know the french doesnt super fit in with sw, but if all of the twileks on ryloth can have weird french accents, im gonna name r’s ship after the ‘be serious’ ‘i am wild’ exchange). bahorel was studying to go into interplanetary diplomacy before the empire started expanding into the outer rim. he ditched that and decided his skills would be better served elsewhere, falling in with grantaire easily. musichetta joined them soon after. her inn had been destroyed by a stormtrooper raid on her home planet Shili and she fled to the outer rim. she’s able to work with her hands and is decent with a blaster. 

they meet enjolras when a recon mission to mandalore goes sideways. enj, bossuet, and jehan had been looking to gather information on the empire’s movements in the area, but their ship had lost an engine on the way down and they needed a way off the planet after receiving the intel/stolen data from an informant on the surface. they cross paths in a cantina as the three of them attempt to find an escape route without alerting the empire’s troops. jehan makes contact with bahorel, who brings their group back to r and chetta. grantaire almost immediately gets into a fight with enjolras about duty to the galaxy, but they eventually do agree to payment in exchange for safe passage off of mandalore with the intel. 

shit goes sideways and the trip ends up taking a liiiiiiittle bit longer than anticipated as the empire realizes they’ve had a security breach, and after a few days of hiding out, they reach a safe spot where enj is able to convince the crew to join the alliance. or rather, grantaire realizes that bahorel and chetta are absolutely enamored by jehan and bossuet, respectively, and they both have their reasons to want to fight the empire. he agrees very begrudgingly, but part of him hopes that the alliance (namely, enjolras) is able to change his mind on the futility of the whole thing (spoiler alert: he does)

yikes okay this got really long and less headcanon-y than actual plot im v sorry oops uhhhhh just a brief breakdown of everything else i guess:

-courf is an ace pilot, leader of Red Squadron and super good at his job. he’s a commander. he joined the rebellion at a very young age along with ferre and enj (and hes definitely into combeferre, but they aren’t romantically involved…yet)

-combeferre is also a commander and a tactician. 

-joly works in medical. he was seriously injured early on in his tenure with the rebellion when trying to help those in his care during an evacuation, but was fitted with a cybernetic exoskeleton to allow him to walk. he’s dating bossuet 

-feuilly joined the alliance after his family was murdered for resisting empire occupation. he works as an engineer/tech person for the alliance

-eponine joined the alliance in order to protect her force sensitive siblings from her parents

-cosette is a jedi and jvj is her mentor. i dont know how they got to the alliance at this point lol

-general lamarque is a badass

-at some point e and r get married and lamarque officiates. its kind of a hastily put together ceremony, but its beautiful all the same

[coelenterata]

BrickClub 3.4.1

What was Marius to do, all alone and very stupid! Hugo asks, and then immediately he goes, hey look at this group of friend-shaped young men with good political opinions!!

Anyway: you may THINK this was a time in which politics were not happening much, but actually revolution is alive and well and right here, and I’m emotional about it and Hugo is emotional about it and so should you. Also puns are good, that’s very important.

(I don’t know if I noticed this on previous reads, but it’s specifically mentioned that meetings usually happen in the place nearer to the students.....?? Hmm.)

To be honest, this is just going to be a post of me crying and yelling. I was already nearly crying, in fact, when I got to “they talked very loud about everything, and in whispers about something else”, and about how they are all family, and also Hugo tells us here already that there will be no happy ending for them. Thanks Hugo.

And then we get into individual descriptions, On A Scale From Enjolras To Grantaire, where I have just noticed that every time I expect it to go Joly, Lesgle but it goes Lesgle, Joly? Joly is less Enjolras than Bossuet is, which makes me love Joly and Bossuet both even more, somehow, but I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m going to put all my individual amis yelling under a cut. (I knew this was going to be long but jesus it got so long I’m so sorry you don’t have to read this.)

There’s a lot of yelling I don’t have to do because we all know anyway, especially about Enjolras, I feel like? But I love him so much. Hugo makes a fool of himself describing what Enjolras looks like, see a) the Forehead and b) the entirety of his looks described as “all this dawn” which actually made me emotional so I guess I’m the fool here, but also Enjolras just IS perfect, that’s just a fact. I love him. I care about him so much. “His speech was roughly inspired and had the tremor of a hymn.” is the line that hit me particularly hard this time. I want to lie down and wail about this. I’m not sure how to put into words what Enjolras is, but. Wow. He isn’t the Enjolras yet who we see later, not quite, because he WILL soften a little, but he IS already perfect, and for the softness he has... well.

(They Are In Love. I will have shipping opinions in this post, noone can stop me.)

Sometimes I want to say Combeferre is my favourite, but so many of them are my favourites, but also Combeferre is my favourite. This wonderful horrible nerd, and I started crying properly somewhere in the middle of his introduction. (I’m so glad he gets such a long introduction.) The focus on education always gets me, and that careful balance of, he would rather not have violence, but he will take violence over no progress, if he must. There is a line where Hugo describes the kind of progress Combeferre prefers in adjectives that seem like they are also about Combeferre? I’m emotional about every line in his description, but the one I copied into my notes was specifically, “but why not wait for the break of day.” (He KNOWS that that won’t be the solution, but god does he wish it were, and still he will do what he must...?)

I also love Prouvaire, unsurprisingly. (Also I’m very amused that Hugo informs us that it was NECESSARY to have this movement study the middle ages, or whatever. Hugo, standing on a chair: Romanticism Is The Best Thing To Ever Happen, Actually!) There’s a lot about his political opinions here, which I feel gets lost sometimes in the Badly Dressed Poet thing? He “paid almost as much attention to the clouds as to passing events” but only ALMOST. And hey: is this another bit of Bishop parallels?? Much contemplating, much flowers, much gazing at stars?

Aaand then I started crying about Feuilly too. Most of his introduction is about Poland really - it’s his whole spiel about Poland built into his introduction because he will bring it up whenever it is relevant and also when it’s not! I would die for him! His whole deal is that if you don’t have a family, your country should be there to be your family, and he works towards that every day! He is so determined and so... there is so much kindness in him, and all other good things.

The Courfeyrac and Tholomyes comparison is jarring, yes, except most of his introduction following that is distancing him from Tholomyes very specifically. The point here is that he is not at first glance Special in a way that seems suited for revolution, he is at first glance someone who has social skills and that’s it, but Hugo SAYS, the man inside is very different from Tholomyes. “[...] and in Courfeyrac a knight-errant.” is the line that hit me, would’ve gotten distractec by the kitten line maybe but we all know the kitten line too well at this point. A knight-errant. A knight of the round table was lost in Courfeyrac, a knight errant, medieval literary trope of someone setting out to do what is right, I have to lie down. The word in French is “paladin” GOD. I looked this up while writing this post up properly and now I’m completely sidetracked and also I guess Courfeyrac is even more a favourite now.

Where were we. Bahorel. I am very fond of him, not my favourite except he feels like he would be my best friend’s favourite so he’s still my favourite somehow? How old is he? We just don’t know! What is his goal in life? To never be boring enough to have one, presumably. He “takes hygienic precautions when passing the law school”, what’s not to love. He knows everyone, he has no respect for anything, he will fight you because you’re wrong AND because it’s fun. EXTREMELY friend-shaped, actually.

And oh Lesgle your name has been a mess even before your time, huh. The pun is really just the cherry on top. ALSO never a lawyer, love these dumbasses one and all. And as mentioned above, he is a little closer to the Ideal side of the scale than Joly, apparently. “He had considerable knowledge and wit, but he always miscarried.” The things this man could achieve if he could achieve anything ever,,, I’m SO fond of him, and how he is not surprised by misfortune anymore but still stays happy and optimistic? And his introduction overlaps with Joly’s because they love each other!!! And Joly is “an eccentric agreeable person” and also he is perfect and like Bossuet, he is cheerful despite misfortune. Granted, his misfortune is just imaginary illness, but.... there’s a thing that I have emotions about. Nothing ever seems to go right for these two, but they love life and they love each other and there’s puns everywhere too.

Hugo makes as if to stop, at that point, and tells us that all of them “had the same religion: Progress.” I LOVE THEM ALL DID YOU KNOW. And then only AFTER that line we get to Grantaire.

Sighs deeply. I don’t wanna. I feel like a lot of Les Mis fandom, somewhere out there, expects me to like Grantaire like, as a person??? And I don’t! Because he sucks! He’s a good character, but as a person I don’t like him!

Here’s an increasingly incoherent attempt to figure out this introduction?? Please skip this, dear god. Anyway. Others’ nicknames shift them into the first half of the alphabet where everyone else is; Grantaire’s takes him OUT of the first half of the alphabet. And he is kind of doing this on purpose? Dude literally you could be one of them and here you are sad in a corner taking “great care not to believe in anything.” (I know it’s not that easy, I know.) He knows a lot about Paris, is a fun enough person to hang out with for other men I guess, “trying to make his comrades believe that he was in general demand” hi yeah I do not like this man actually, and “he annoyed these young thinkers.” POINTS LOUDLY. Except he doesn’t actually want to just be there to annoy them? And that’s the thing that makes me actually like Grantaire, as a character not touched by fandom. “What we lack attracts us.” And that’s a whole big Thing. Look I love a gay crush as much as the next lesbian, what I don’t love is when people ignore that this is about wAY MORE than that. “Grantaire, crawling with doubt, loved to see faith soaring in Enjolras.” POINTS LOUDLY. He a) does not know what is happening to him and b) does NOT set himself opposite Enjolras, but attaches himself to him, leans on him, revolves around him. Hhh I have not a single coherent opinion about Grantaire. He is shitty but loves his friends, and Enjolras makes him less shitty, kind of?? Which is to say, there is love there, and if there is love there could be belief, and also because there is love he WANTS to be able to believe, and Enjolras is so much belief that he can make others believe, that’s the whole point of Enjolras. Though Grantaire seems to feel this way about the others also, if less strongly? And the others like him for being a good friend, just Enjolras does not like him, and I guess if you only read that last bit you would think Enjolras IS unnecessarily rude to Grantaire, but..... Grantaire sucks. YES, he is sad. ALSO, he sucks. (Except above all he wants to be near this light, because he isn’t completely lost, he isn’t all indifference, and he is waiting to be pulled out of that indifference? And I don’t like him as a person, and I don’t like what a lot of fandom makes of him, but OOF.)

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

It’s Lit

@wordshakerofgallifrey​ prompted “"all our friends are drunk" with whoever's most responsible between the Newsies and Les Mis revolutionaries (aka gimme more of your crossover please;))” This went more into crossover land in general and less into drunken shenanigans but I think you’ll like the outcome.  Rating: G Words: 2,750 Gen AO3

Combeferre had been looking forward to spending New Years in New York. Not that they were going to the ball drop, no one really wanted to deal with that crowd, but getting to go into the city and spend the time with his friends had been all he could think about since Katherine and her friends had invited them.

The day after Christmas he’d packed his bags and his mom had given him a ride to the airport. It was shorter and cheaper to just fly from Savannah than to try and drive or take a train. Some of his friends would be doing one or the other but he knew that Bahorel and Musichetta would be flying in too, they’d tried to coordinate their flights to all land around the same time so it was easier for whoever would be meeting them at JFK.

Combeferre checked his phone once they landed and it had time to power up, Specs had texted that he had found Chetta and they were by the rental car kiosk. He smiled as he typed out a quick reply.

The Newsies seemed to be taking the task of hosting the ABC for a week with aplomb, figuring out housing arrangements and airport/train pickup/drop-off schedules and relaying it through Katherine to their groupchat. By the time they were leaving Baltimore from their last summit the week before the holidays it had already been settled and all that needed to be done was ticket purchasing. Combeferre had asked for his plane tickets as a last-minute Christmas present and been thrilled when his grandparents handed him them, wrapped up in an overlarge box and stuck into a book on the legend of Mothman. The book had made the flight interesting, if only because of the strange looks from the guy sitting next to him.

He scanned the lobby, looking for the car rentals and subsequently Specs and Chetta in the spacious white and silver environment. They saw him first and started calling out to him and waving; Combeferre grinned and course corrected as he made his way over.

“Ferre!” Musichetta pulled him into a tight hug when she saw him, forcing him to let go of the handle of his small carry one to return it. “How was your holiday?”

“Good! Good. And yours?”

“Oh excellent. I got new shoes!” She twirled her foot to show him the boots that did look new.

“Nice,” he smiled before turning to Specs who had been watching them with a grin of his own. “And how’s your holiday?”

“Well hosting one of my friends from D.C. for a week definitely makes it pretty great.”

Combeferre laughed and hugged the other boy. They’d gotten close over the last semester and when he’d been told that he would be bunking with Specs for the week Ferre couldn’t stop grinning.

“Rel should be landing now,” Musichetta commented once they released each other, checking her watch.

“Cool. I had to park pretty far, just warning you now,” Specs said, giving them both a look. “So if you want to sit now’s your chance.”

“I’ve been sitting!” Chetta laughed. “I can stand and troop to your car yet. Trust me.”

Combeferre quirked an eyebrow. “You drive?”

“Yeah. It’s my mom’s car but it’s better than having to pay for a cab or an uber out here.”

“I didn’t think you could drive,” Combeferre said honestly.

Specs smirked. “Oh, cause I’m a New Yorker I can’t drive? I’m a rare breed, sure, but my grandma’s not from the city and she thinks that it’s a necessary skill so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“Well as long as we get where we need to be in time for food, I have no complaints,” Musichetta added with a twist of her lips.

“Race’s mom is hosting dinner for everyone tonight, homemade Italian,” Specs said.

“I heard, someone let that slip to R and he hasn’t been able to shut up about it. He got Joly and Boss set on it too.” She rolled her eyes but it was with love, not malice.

“Ayyyy-o!” Someone called out, drawing the attention of everyone in the lobby. They all looked to the area that led from the baggage claim where Bahorel was now walking, arms raised with duffel bag in hand and backpack on his shoulder.

Combeferre laughed as Musichetta let out a responding “Ayyyy-o!”

Bahorel ran the rest of the way over and pulled the trio into a tight hug.

When he could finally breathe again Combeferre turned to Bahorel with a raised brow. “Finally see Bohemian Rhapsody?” he guessed.

“And Mary Poppins and Aquaman.”

“Well you’ve got me beat. I only got to see Into the Spider-verse,” Specs said as they all turned to start the trek to the car.

“Oh how was it?” Chetta asked, leading to a conversation that ended up just being about John Mulaney by the time they actually got to the car. Specs wasn’t kidding about having to park far away.

They’d all left their bags in the trunk of Spec’s mom’s Toyota as they walked up to the apartment building in Manhattan Racetrack Higgins called home, at least for now. Specs had told them about how he and his boyfriend Spot were trying to find a place to move into together at the end of the spring semester.

Specs pressed the buzzer, waving at the camera with a warm smile. The door clicked open and he ushered them in. When they got off on the eleventh floor they turned a corner and upon reaching the door at the end of the hall Specs raised a hand to knock. A lanky boy with dirty blonde curls answered, pulling Specs immediately into a hug when he did.

“Race! Let me go!” Specs laughed as he tried to fight the other boy off, who by this point had turned the hug into a headlock even though Specs had a couple inches on him. He finally did and Specs shot him a dirty look before rounding on the three ABC members behind him. “This is Bahorel, Musichetta, and Combeferre,” he pointed to each in turn and Ferre gave a little wave at his name. “Racetrack,” Specs finished, pointing back at the boy still standing in the doorway.

“Welcome to the madhouse, keep your coats on,” Racetrack said and stepped aside to let them in.

The apartment wasn’t exactly small, after seeing Jehan’s micro apartment Combeferre had a new appreciating and understanding of what constituted a small home, but it was cramped. Filled to the bursting with people.

“We’re all going up to the roof then so you don’t have to sit on anyone’s lap to eat,” Racetrack called over his shoulder as he led the way. “My family’s pretty big so my ma knows how to cook in bulk and made up her mind before I could point out the space issue. Just be glad that the cousins aren’t all here yet, you wouldn’t be able to even get in the door then.”

Ferre took the plastic plate someone had handed him and began loading it up from the platters of food on the dining table. Some seemed to be leftovers from Christmas dinner the day before but there was still more that looked freshly homemade. Suddenly starving now that there was food in front of him everything else seemed to disappear but the table until someone clapped him on the shoulder. Combeferre startled but held onto his plate, turning to find Courfeyrac grinning at him.

“Happy Boxing Day!” Courf raised his own plate piled high.

Ferre snorted. “Boxing Day?”

“Technically my family is French-Canadian. It’s a Canadian holiday.”

“Your family has lived in Maine for the past hundred years,” Ferre said dryly.

Courf seemed unperturbed by this fact, just shrugging and turning to head back out to the living room where people seemed to be crawling out a window and up the fire escape.

“We were in Canada for Christmas,” Courf called over his shoulder as Ferre followed him.

Combeferre scoffed. “You were in upstate New York for Christmas.”

“Right. Canada.”

“You’re from Maine, you’re not allowed to call Albany Canada.”

“I dunno, it’s pretty close,” a boy about their age with fluffy blonde hair sticking up from under a knitted lime green beanie that Grantaire would be jealous of when he saw it had said from where he stood next to the window. It took a second to recognize him but once he did Combeferre grinned.

“See! Charlie here agrees with me!” Courf said with a smile. It was the one he only got when someone joined in on his ridiculousness. Combeferre had a love hate relationship with that smile.

Charlie smirked and held out his hand to Courf. “I’ll hold your plate while you climb through. There’s drinks up there already.”

“Oh! Thank you,” Courfeyrac beamed at him.

Once Courf was on his way up the fire escape Combeferre turned to Charlie. “You really don’t have to encourage him.”

“I’m from Manhattan, Albany really is Canada to me,” Charlie joked.

Combeferre snorted as he took his plate back. “Do you want help with the steps?” he asked, guessing that Bossuet had already given Joly a piggy back up to the top.

“Thanks but Jack’s gonna come. Besides it’s nice and toasty in here,” Charlie smirked and Combeferre nodded in return before starting up the stairs.

Charlie was going to soak up the warmth while he could and Ferre wouldn’t blame him for it. It wasn’t exactly cold out but it certainly wasn’t normal picnic weather. Yet that’s where they were all eating, on picnic tables on the apartment building’s roof. A small patio area with lights was all set up and it looked like just about everyone was there from the ABC with nearly as many Newsies.

“Combeferre!” Someone called and he turned to see Enjolras motioning him over to their table.

Setting his food down Combeferre folded his long legs under wood top and turned to see who all he was sitting with. Enjolras and Grantaire seemed to be next to him with Katherine, her boyfriend Jack, and David were across from him. Jack, David, and Charlie had all been to visit Katherine and Specs so Combeferre was glad to see the familiar faces so soon.

“Hey Ferre,” Kath smiled, lifting a glass filled with dark liquid to him in a small toast.

“It’s good to see you Katherine,” he told her. “I must admit though, I hadn’t realized you were a vampire.”

Katherine noticed his look to her glass and laughed. “It’s sangria. Race’s sister smuggled all the alcohol up here, something about if we’re going to be outside we might as well stay warm. Just, uh, mind the gap,” she giggled.

Combeferre caught David rolling his eyes. “She means don’t fall off the roof. It’s a bit stronger than anyone expected.”

“And she spent the entire day yesterday watching British movies with her sisters,” Jack snorted.

“So what?” Kath turned on him, a fire in her eyes. Combeferre couldn’t help the corners of his mouth from twitching up at that, he’d missed her and it had only been a few weeks.

Jack started teasing her, something Grantaire joined in on eagerly. Combeferre let the jokes flow around him as he began to eat what he was willing to call some of the best homemade food in his life. Not that he’d let his mother know that. The conversation changed to an actual topic, rather than just poking fun at Katherine, and Combeferre listened with interest. Combeferre realized that Charlie had joined them at some point and grinned as he said something that had Enjolras laughing.

Their table seemed to become the nucleus of the gathering, everyone coming over at some point to join their conversation. Combeferre also realized that everyone seemed to be getting steadily drunker. Even Enjolras seemed to be more than a bit tipsy, the sangria really being stronger than anyone had anticipated. Grantaire could hold his liquor but if the volume of his laughter was anything to go by then he was edging towards being inebriated too.

Everyone had finished eating at this point and Combeferre as fairly sure he’d been introduced to all the Newsies as someone pulled out a speaker and started playing Queen. The effect was instantaneous as a little over two dozen college kids all started singing “Mama, just killed a man…”

Combeferre couldn’t help himself, it was hilarious, but he knew that if Enjolras saw him laughing the blonde would get offended and the effect would be ruined. So, he got up from the table and moved to stand at the edge of the patio, laughing at his friends from the shadows.

“All our friends are drunk,” someone said from next to him. Combeferre glanced over to see that David had joined him. Ferre couldn’t read his expression and his tone had been hard to decipher too; whether David was annoyed or amused by this turn of events was anyone’s guess.

“I don’t think anyone thought this through, getting back down and into the apartment is going to present a challenge.”

David winced. “I’d forgotten about getting them back through the window and past Race’s parents.”

“Well we could dump the drinks and force them to dry out?” Combeferre suggested.

“I’m fairly certain they finished it all off themselves. I just checked the cooler and it’s only capri suns in there.”

Combeferre couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him at that. At this whole situation. David shot him a questioning glance. “I’m on a roof in the middle of New York City with a bunch of young, arguably, revolutionaries who have drunk literally everything but a bunch of juice boxes and are now thoroughly sloshed as a result. On the day after Christmas.”

“It is kind of crazy,” David said with a twist of his lips.

“I think my favorite part is how in to the song they all are.”

David’s head fell back a little as he laughed. “They really are. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Spot that invested before and we play this song at parties a lot.”

An idea creeped into the back of Combeferre’s mind as he saw Courfeyrac grab Marius and start jumping up and down, Bahorel and Cosette dramatically singing to each other, and Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta huddled around Joly’s cane as if it were a microphone. Even Enjolras had been pulled in, with his arms slung over Feuilly and Katherine’s shoulders as they swayed.

“Do you know whose phone is playing this?” He turned to David quickly.

“Probably Mush. He has a tendency to dj.”

“Do you think we could steal his phone and queue up some songs of our own?”

“Seeing as he’s trapped under Blink right now and I can see his phone on the table from here I’d say so.”

Combeferre glanced to where David had nodded. Blink was indeed sitting on Mush’s lap and had his arms wrapped around the other boy, giving the impression that Mush was truly trapped. Not that he looked like he minded.

“Be right back,” David said. He slipped around the edges of the patio, coming up behind Mush and Blink and swiping the phone off the table before retracing his route to come stand next to Combeferre again. He tapped at the phone and after a couple tries got it unlocked. “It’s Blink’s birthday. They’re cute if gross,” he supplied at Combeferre’s raised brow. “So, what did you have in mind?”

Combeferre passed David his own phone, a playlist called “White People Get Turnt” already pulled up. David laughed at the name but typed it in to Mush’s spotify search bar and found it on the first try. As soon as Bohemian Rhapsody’s final gong began to fade he pressed play and Mr. Brightside started up, to everyone’s excitement.

“So maybe most of us aren’t white, it’s still the best party playlist we’ve found,” Combeferre said with a shrug as their friends began to scream along to the lyrics. Combeferre raised his phone, zooming in slightly so that it was clear who was who in the video as he started recording.

“Really?” David whispered when he noticed.

“You have no idea how rare Enjolras acting like this is. It’s for posterity.”

David just snorted. They shared a wicked smile before going back to watching their friends make absolute fools of themselves.

[throughthefumes]

neither lost nor found x

All too fast, it became time for Grantaire to leave.

He spent the morning packing, having put it off until then under the belief that he would change his mind or some unknown force would somehow stop him or keep him here.

There was no sense in continuing to rent out his dingy little basement flat while he was away, so when he left it early that morning and locked up behind him, it was for the last time (and good riddance). He slipped his key under the door for his landlord and made his way outside.

The day was already warm, promising a beautiful summer’s day that Grantaire would not see. He couldn’t quite believe that, now, after everything, all he had was the contents of the suitcase he held in one hand and the cat tucked away in her carry case in the other. Even Ant wouldn’t be his soon enough, when he dropped her off at Enjolras’, where she’d stay while he was away.

His bike was being looked after by Jehan, so he got the metro to Enjolras’, trying to keep his mind busy and his feelings light. It would be this simple to get on a plane, he told himself.

Time always seemed to move faster when Enjolras dreaded its passing. He woke up early that morning, made some coffee and toast and caught up on the news and did not think of all the missed opportunities to be honest with Grantaire in the past two weeks.

Grantaire was leaving, and he wasn’t in love with him, and maybe Enjolras’ feelings would be easier to deal with when they wouldn’t be able to see each other so often.

He tidied up, showered, and by the time his little leisurely morning routine was over, the buzzer alerted him of Grantaire’s arrival. With a deep breath, shoulders squared back, Enjolras greeted him at the door with a smile.

“Come in, come in, I can’t wait to show you what I’ve rigged up.”

Grantarie breathed a laugh as he followed Enjolras inside. He left his suitcase and Ant in her carrier at the door, along with a bag of a few last things of hers for Enjolras.

“I’m worried I’ve created a monster,” he teased.

Enjolras breathed a laugh. “It’s nothing outrageous,” he said, leading them inside. “I stocked up on some treats I found that help with hairballs, and that canned food she likes, tu sais, the ocean medley flavor where she can pretend she’s a dock cat in Marseille. I got a tree for the living room and my room and, dieu, the cutest little cat hammock on the balcony, hopefully she can figure that out but, here.”

They stopped in the living room, where he gestured up to the wall behind the sofa, where he’d set up platforms and steps and hammocks almost up to the ceiling.

“Remember that hideous picture Maman insisted I hang up there? In the dumpster.”

“Mon dieu,” Grantaire said, breathing a laugh as he looked around him. “You don’t do things half-heartedly, ah? She won’t want to come home with me again. Not that I have a home anymore.”

Enjolras laughed. “Of course she - wait. What? What did you say?”

Grantaire looked up at him. He’d assumed Enjolras had assumed this. “Well, there’s no point in renting my flat all the while I’m not living in it…”

“Non, right of course,” Enjolras said, frowning still. “But you’re… you’re still coming back, right?”

Grantaire nodded. “I’ll just have to crash with Jehan for a bit until I find another place.”

Enjolras opened his mouth, closed it, and opened again. “Ant can stay here as long as you need her to.”

Grantaire smiled at him. “Merci,” he said. “I guess it’s time to release her, ah? I’ve already said my goodbyes and she’s been told in no uncertain terms that she’s to be an absolute nightmare for you, so…”

Enjolras breathed a laugh. “I will pick up some catnip, that’ll slow her down,” he said, reaching for the carrier. He unzipped the door and coaxed Ant out with a little coo, heart swelling when she meowed in recognition of him. “Ah, there she is…”

“Ready to terrorise you,” Grantaire said, a hint of pride in his voice.

“No way,” Enjolras said, kissing the top of her head before setting her loose to explore. “What time is your flight?”

“Midday,” Grantaire said, making an effort to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach at the reminder.

“Oh, so there’s some time,” Enjolras said lightly. “Would you like something to eat?”

Grantaire shook his head. “I don’t think I could stomach anything,” he admitted. “Merci.”

Worry settled on Enjolras’ brow. He sat on the sofa, motioning for Grantaire to join him.

“Are you okay?”

“Oui,” Grantaire said, smiling a little as he took a seat. “Just nervous, t’sais. It’s not like I’ll be coming back after a week.”

“Non, je sais,” Enjolras said, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But you’ll get settled and get to work, you’ll find your routine. You’ll forget all about nerves.”

“Je sais,” Grantaire said. “It’s just this bit that’s really hard.”

Enjolras gently squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want me to come to the airport with you?”

Grantaire looked at his hand on his shoulder and then up at him. “Honestly? Oui. I’d like that a lot,” he said softly.

Enjolras smiled. “Then we’ll go together,” he said, and leaned back against the sofa. “I’m very jealous, you know. I’ve been researching Crete, and the beaches are beautiful.”

“Oui?” Grantaire said, relaxing a little. “Then I suppose you just really will have to visit.”

“I’ve had my eye on a new bathing suit,” Enjolras said with a playful smile.

“Oh, dieu,” Grantaire laughed, pretending to fan himself. “Greece won’t cope!”

Enjolras laughed too, his cheeks tinted a faint shade of pink. “Ah, I do not think I’ll be anywhere near the most attractive thing Greece has seen; they have gods.”

“Mm, not with me there,” Grantaire teased, the sarcasm clear in his voice.

“You’re absolutely right,” Enjolras said, far more serious than Grantaire.

Grantaire pulled a face at him, then took a deep breath. “You’re sure you don’t mind coming with me?”

Enjolras smiled. “Not at all,” he said. “I’m putting off paperwork today. They want me to come up with a firm name before I officially file as a small business but I’ve come up with nothing.”

“Ah, dieu. No ideas at all?”

“Not a one. I used up all my cleverness naming Les Amis.”

Grantaire smiled at him. “L’Enj de la justice,” he teased. “With the pun on Enj, with ange.”

Enjolras snorted, shoving Grantaire’s shoulder playfully. “That is ridiculous,” he said. “I don’t want my name in it, anyway.”

“Non?” Grantaire laughed.

“Non, no way,” Enjolras said, shaking his head. “It’s… too much. It’s not about me, anyway.”

“Mm, je suppose,” Grantaire admitted reluctantly. “I’ll have a think on the plane, see what I can come up with.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Enjolras said. “I’m sure something will come to me.”

Grantaire nodded, then took a deep breath. “I guess we’d better get to the airport.”

Enjolras checked his watch, hoping to find just a little more time to steal but they’d used it all up, and took a steadying breath to muster up a smile for Grantaire. He had to stay positive, couldn’t burden him with dread and the regret of things left unsaid.

“Oui, we don’t want you to be late,” he said, standing from the sofa. “I just need to put shoes on.”

“Always helpful,” Grantaire noted, getting to his feet himself to find Ant.

He just wouldn’t think about it, Enjolras told himself as he tied his shoes and patted down his pockets to make sure he had his wallet, keys, and phone. Grantaire was just going to work, would only be a two hour plane ride away. That was nothing, and it’s not like they hadn’t planned to visit each other. As friends. They were friends, and this wasn’t a time to act irrationally.

“Ready?” he asked, coming back into the living room.

“Oui, je pense,” Grantaire said, giving Ant one last scratch behind her ears. “Back before you even miss me, petite.”

Enjolras exhaled softly. He missed him already. “Do you need help carrying anything?”

“Ah, non, merci,” Grantaire said. “I just have the one bag.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said lightly, managing to hide his surprise. Hadn’t he said he’d moved out of his apartment? “Ca va, well. Let’s head out.”

Grantaire took a deep breath and straightened up, leading the way out and grabbing his suitcase from beside the front door on his way. “You’re sure you don’t mind coming with me?”

“Not at all,” Enjolras said with a smile, bumping his hip against Grantaire’s to encourage him forward. “What else have I got to do today, ah?”

Grantaire smiled a little, glancing up at Enjolras and bumping his hip back before heading out. “Think up a name for your new business, for starters,” he teased.

Enjolras laughed, closing and locking the door behind them. “That is going to take much longer than a day,” he said, leading the way down the hall and to the stairs. “I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I’ll be lucky if I’m in business by the time you get back.”

“Non!” Grantaire said, pretending to be horrified. “You have to at least be well on your way there by then. Nothing can take that long.”

“It can when you’re stalled by your own lack of creativity,” Enjolras said, holding the lobby door open for Grantaire.

“Ah, you’re plenty creative,” Grantaire said, thanking him as he stepped outside. Dieu, he was going to miss Paris. “You should brainstorm during the next Les Amis meeting.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea,” Enjolras said, sliding his hands into his pockets to stop himself reaching for Grantaire. “Meetings won’t be the same without you, though.”

“Oui, they’ll be much quieter and much more productive.”

“You would think,” Enjolras said lightly, bumping shoulders with Grantaire. “But someone always feels the need to try to fill your shoes. Usually Jehan.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh, pressing his free hand to his chest. “My legacy.”

Enjolras laughed. “And Bahorel. It’s a competition that gets out of hand very quickly.”

“At least you have Combeferre and Feuilly on your side, ah?”

“I do,” Enjolras said with a nod. “Ferre usually puts a stop to it unless he also finds it hilarious. And then the meeting just dissolves.”

“I love it when we get him too,” Grantaire confessed.

“Honestly, so do I,” Enjolras said. “It’s a good indicator that we’ve all had enough.”

Grantaire laughed. “Ah, if I’d have known, I would have tried harder all these years.”

“Oh, please,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “You were a nightmare, how could you have possibly tried harder?”

“Easily!” Grantaire insisted. “There’s always room for improvement, ah?”

“Ah, but you have improved,” Enjolras teased. “You are far less annoying than ever.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh, hitting Enjolras lightly with the back of his hand. “That’s not as much of a compliment as you think it is.”

Enjolras’ laughter grew. “Non? I am acknowledging your growth as a person, isn’t that kind?”

“It implies my person needed growth in the first place.”

“We were all very young and in need of growth, wouldn’t you say?”

Grantaire laughed. “Ah, that’s a good one. Very diplomatic.”

Enjolras grinned. “It’s the politician in me.”

“Mm, maybe you should reconsider opening your own law firm, ah?”

“I don’t want to be a politician,” Enjolras said, scrunching up his nose.

“Lawyers are much hotter,” Grantaire said, smirking at him.

Enjolras laughed, ducking his head to hide the color he could feel rising to his cheeks. “You don’t spend much time in courtrooms, do you?”

“As little as I can possible manage.”

“There are a lot of old men with hair growing out of their ears,” Enjolras said, managing to maintain a straight face.

Grantaire laughed and pretended to swoon. “Ah, dieu, just my type.”

Enjolras laughed. “I’ll take you to work with me sometime. You can scope them out.”

“Oui, I’d appreciate that,” Grantaire teased.

Enjolras patted Grantaire on the shoulder. “What are friends for, ah?”

It felt like being stabbed in the chest. Grantaire laughed it off as best he could. “Je sais, je sais.”

“Ah, here,” Enjolras said as they came to the metro entrance. “Let me carry your bag down.”

“I’ve got it,” Grantaire said, skipping ahead of him. “Merci, mon ami.”

“Oui, sure,” Enjolras said, following after Grantaire after a moment of hesitation, feeling a strange shift in distance between them. He wondered if he should have stayed behind.

The metro ride passed far too quickly. The closer they got to the airport, the more and more quiet Grantaire grew, until he fell completely silent, holding tight to his suitcase.

And that, Enjolras remembered, is why he’d offered to go with him, as a force of calm and bravery to lead Grantaire forward even in his fear, even as he feared it himself. He reached to rest his hand on Grantaire’s, smoothed his thumb over his skin.

“Ca va?”

Grantaire turned his hand over and held Enjolras’ tight, not looking at him. He pressed his lips together and nodded. He couldn’t turn back. He wouldn’t turn back.

Enjolras exhaled softly but said nothing else; Grantaire wasn’t in the mood for a pep talk and Enjolras didn’t really know if he had it in him. He held his hand just as tight, leaned against his shoulder, and tried to enjoy their last few moments together.

The train pulled up at their stop and Grantaire didn’t let go of Enjolras’ hand as they got off and headed into the airport. He let go only to check in and then found himself reaching for his hand again. Security was in sight.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” he said, very quietly.

“You can,” Enjolras said firmly, stepping in just a bit closer to Grantaire. He could hear blood rushing in his ears, feel his heart knocking against his chest. He just had to get him on the plane without screwing this all up. “I know you can. This is the hard part, standing here with a lot of unknown in front of you. But after this, it gets easier. I promise.”

Grantaire pressed his fingertips and thumb over his eyes. “It was a stupid idea,” he muttered. “Really, really stupid. I don’t know why I thought I could... I don’t want to go.”

“Oh, chéri,” Enjolras said softly, his heart sinking. He took another step in, trying to shut out the chaos of the airport around them. “Hey, look at me. If you don’t want to go because you’re scared, then we can wait. We can rebook your flight for later tonight or tomorrow, until you’re ready. We can get Jehan out here, or Ferre, or whatever you need to make you feel okay getting on that plane. But if you don’t want to go because you really don’t want to, that’s okay. We’ll go home and figure out what to do from there, but… R, I don’t feel like you getting on this plane is a mistake.”

Grantaire looked up at him, his hand falling back at his side. That changed things. If Enjolras wanted him to go, if Enjolras thought it was a good idea.

“You don’t?”

Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t,” he said. “I think this is a monumental opportunity for you and your career, something to grow from. I would hate for your fear to hold you back from something that could completely change your life. That’s what it is, right? Fear?”

Grantaire looked up at him for a long moment before nodding.

“Ca va, we can handle that,” Enjolras said, smiling softly. “We can handle fear. I don’t think this is the scariest thing you’ve ever done, do you?”

Grantaire shook his head.

“Non, it’s not,” Enjolras said, and he couldn’t stop himself from moving a curl from where it had fallen in Grantaire’s eyes. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’re going to take this on and come out on top, R. I’ve seen you do amazing things, you can do this. And we’re all going to be here for you, ca va? You’re not alone. We’re just a phone call away.”

Grantaire exhaled softly, closing his eyes for a moment. “Can I call you when I get there?”

“You can call me whenever you want to,” Enjolras said. “Even if it’s the middle of the night.”

“Is there a time difference?” Grantaire asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“You’re just an hour ahead,” Enjolras said with a small laugh. “Don’t worry about it, ca va?”

“I’ll worry about it a little,” Grantaire said, breathing a laugh that threatened to turn into a sob.

“Hey,” Enjolras said, ducking his head to catch Grantaire’s eye. “I’m serious. I’m here if you need me, always. I don’t care what time it is or what I’m doing. I’ll drop it all.”

There was nothing Grantaire wanted to do more than lean up and kiss him. He pressed his lips together and nodded, then closed his eyes as he just very lightly touched his forehead to Enjolras’ for a moment before straightening up.

“Merci,” he said softly. He took a deep breath, turning his gaze to the line leading into security.

Enjolras followed his line of sight, drawing a shaky breath and squeezing Grantaire’s hand but not letting go. He was having a very hard time trying not to cry.

“Are you ready?”

“Non,” Grantaire said, not letting go either. “But if I wait ‘til I’m ready…”

Enjolras nodded, turned his head to hide a sniff, and finally let go of Grantaire’s hand.

“Go on, then,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.”

Grantaire faltered and then, after a moment of hesitation, stepped forward and threw his arms around Enjolras.

Enjolras automatically wrapped his arms around Grantaire, holding him tight and pressing his face into the crook of his neck, just breathing him in and desperately trying to hold himself together. He didn’t know how he’d ever let him go now.

Finally, Grantaire took another deep breath and broke away. It felt a little like his heart broke with it.

“I’ll see you soon, chéri,” he said softly, then turned and hastened away, before he could start second guessing it all again.

Enjolras gasped in an attempt to catch his breath, wiped hastily at eyes and told himself to stand still, to let him go, but he took a step forward anyway, and another, after Grantaire.

“R, wait!”

Grantaire turned back sharply, his breath catching in his throat. He moved the last few steps to meet Enjolras.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I…” Enjolras faltered, faced again with a decision he thought he’d already made, to speak his truth or not, to burden Grantaire or let him be free, and found himself at the same conclusion. “I just…”

He reached with soft hands to hold Grantaire’s face, pressing his forehead to his like he had minutes before.

“We’re good. I want you to know we’re good.”

Grantaire closed his eyes. “Oui, we’re good,” he whispered. “Always good.”

“And I’m proud of you, and I care about you,” Enjolras said softly, just like he had years ago before he could tell Grantaire he loved him. “I care so much.”

Grantaire had to break away to wipe his eyes. “Merci,” he said shakily. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Je sais,” Enjolras said, reaching to help with Grantaire’s tears. “And I’ll visit before then.”

Grantaire nodded, but Enjolras’ kindness was only making him cry harder. If he stuck around any longer, the tears might never stop; his plane would take off and he’d still be here, sobbing into Enjolras’ shoulder. It occurred to him that this was out of proportion with his fears and anxiety. He was crying too for how this scene should have been playing out, with Enjolras kissing him goodbye and promising Skype calls every evening, or with Enjolras coming with him, snuck into the villa complex for the duration of Grantaire’s work there, or staying in a hotel just round the corner but spending most nights with him anyway.

“I have to go,” he managed to say, wiping his face as dry as he could. “Or I’ll never stop crying.”

“Oui, go on,” Enjolras said, desperately fighting against the urge to say to hell with it and kiss him. “I’ll wait here until your plane takes off, okay?”

Grantaire breathed a laugh, already needing to wipe his eyes again. “Non, non, you should go too,” he insisted. “Otherwise I’ll just come running back out here. Lock the exits on your way out too, ah?”

Enjolras laughed shakily. “What if I tell you I’m leaving, but I stay until your plane takes off?”

“Well, now I’ll know that’s your master plan,” Grantaire said, trying to smile.

“Text me when you get through security,” Enjolras said, reaching to squeeze his hand.

Grantaire nodded, squeezing his hand back tight. He was fighting off tears still. “Text me when you get home to Ant.”

“I’ll send you a Snapchat,” Enjolras said lightly, giving him a smile.

“Oui, do,” Grantaire said, just about managing to smile back. “Lots of them.”

“You’re going to be sick of hearing from me within ten minutes,” Enjolras said, smile growing at the sight of Grantaire’s. “Go on, before the line gets too long.”

Grantaire squeezed his hand, hard as he could, and leaned up to kiss his cheek. It was a little clumsy, meeting the corner of Enjolras’ mouth more than its intended target, but he broke away fast and let go just as quickly and, within seconds, he had turned and was gone.

Enjolras wouldn’t cry. He couldn’t, even now that Grantaire had gone beyond the gate to security and they were out of sight of each other. He had to set a precedent for himself on how he’d handle this separation, and he was determined to stay positive and productive. They were friends, and Enjolras was happy for Grantaire and that had to be the end of it.

Still, his skin tingled where Grantaire’s lips had pressed to it and he missed the warmth of his hand in his, and as he sat down in front of the departures board to watch for his plane to take off, a deep sadness settled over him.

Grantaire couldn’t even wait to board to contact Enjolras again. He deliberated over it, turning his phone over and over in his hand as he waited by the screen announcing gate numbers, until he finally decided he had nothing to lose.

[Text] I forgot to say thank you for coming with me. - R x

Enjolras felt the buzz of his phone throughout his whole body, and he struggled to hastily dig it out of his pocket.

[Text] There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. - E x

Although that wasn’t entirely true. He’d rather be on the other side of that security gate, getting ready to board the plane with Grantaire.

Grantaire left it at that for now; his plane would be boarding soon and, the quicker he could put Enjolras from his mind, the more likely he was to be on it.

Enjolras was, however, the first person he texted upon landing in Greece.

[Text] Dieu, security lines here are long. - R x

Enjolras had done himself a favor and not gone directly home after Grantaire’s plane took off. He got off a few stops before his and wandered along the river for a while, enjoyed the summer sun and popped into their favorite ice cream parlor to get himself a little treat. He missed Grantaire more than ever.

He was still out, relaxing in a rare quiet spot down on the embankment of the river, when he got Grantaire’s text.

[Text] That’s customs for you. - E x

[Text] Good flight? - E x

[Text] Not bad. I slept for a lot of it. How’s Paris? - R x

[Text] Warm. But getting a little cloudy. - E x

[Text] I think it misses you already. - E x

[Text] As it should. - R x

[Text] I am trying my hardest to miss it, but we walked outside across the tarmac from the plane to the airport and, dieu, it is beautiful. I think I have a tan already. - R x

[Text] My pale, pasty skin won’t compare when you come back. You’ll be the golden boy now. - E x

[Text] The dream. - R x

[unsent text] Or we’ll just have to have you out here for so long that

[Text] You are living it. - E x

[Text] Take a lot of pictures and make me even more envious. - E x

Grantaire promptly sent him a photo of the seemingly unending security lines.

Enjolras rolled his eyes.

[Text] What a remarkable queue. Those people must be English. - E x

Grantaire snorted a laugh and tucked his phone away until he was through security. The gallery’s hosts were waiting on the other side of baggage reclaim to greet him, along with a couple of co-workers who had caught an earlier flight. That made it easier, more like just his job, and he was relieved to find himself settling into loading up the car and making small talk on the way to the villa complex where they’d all be staying.

The next time he contacted Enjolras was after he was unpacked and he and his colleagues had had lunch together with their hosts. He sent him a photo of his own little villa, with a glimpse of the shared pool in the foreground.

[Text] Just like Marseille, ah? - R x

Coming home to Ant helped ease the blow a bit. When Enjolras came through the front door, she leapt up from where she’d been snoozing in a patch of sun on the living room rug and came running for him, meowing all the way. He lifted her with a coo and carried her into the kitchen to eat some lunch together.

He spent the rest of the afternoon laid out on the sofa watching TV, Ant curled up on his chest and phone within reach, and he was surprised that the first text he received that afternoon wasn’t from Grantaire, but Finn. He didn’t quite know how to respond, so he didn’t immediately.

Grantaire’s photo came through some time later, and he felt a deep sense of nostalgia.

[Text] Dieu, it’s beautiful. - E x

He turned his phone to snap a photo of Ant fast asleep on his chest.

[Text] You can’t tell here, but she definitely misses you. - E x

[Text] You’re a liar but she’s adorable so I’ll let you off. - R x

[Text] Are you free this evening? - R x

[Text] Oui, I’ll just be here with our girl. - E x

[Text] Want to Skype for ten minutes before I head out for dinner? I can show you my place. - R x

[Text] Oui, oui, that sounds great. - E x

Enjolras’ phone buzzed in the middle of his text to Grantaire with another message from Finn, and he couldn’t figure out why his palms started to feel a little clammy. Still, he didn’t answer.

[Text] What time? - E x

[Text] Sixish your time? - R x

[Text] I’ll see you sixish my time. - E x

[Text] Can’t wait. - R x

[Text] Neither can I. - E x

Enjolras tucked his phone away then, though he hadn’t forgotten about the texts from Finn. He felt a twinge of guilt over his curiosity to know what Finn wanted, why he’d reached out over all this time, though he didn’t really know why. He hadn’t thought about Finn in a long time, especially not when lately his days had been filled with Grantaire, and it wasn’t like Enjolras had been the one to reach out now he was gone.

He picked his phone back up to read the messages; they were innocent enough, just saying hello and checking in. Enjolras responded. And did for each subsequent text throughout that afternoon, even after he got up from the sofa to get some work done before going for a run when the heat cooled off a bit.

When sixish his time rolled around, Enjolras had eaten some dinner and fed Ant, and had set up his computer in the living room to wait for Grantaire’s call.

Grantaire headed back to his room just in time, having spent the rest of the afternoon with his co-workers, scoping the place out and exploring the surrounding area. A couple of them were already talking about having their partners or families visit and there was maybe a slight touch of homesickness kicking in by the time he was alone again.

He called Enjolras on the dot of six, making a futile attempt to tame his hair a little in the reflection of himself on his laptop screen as he waiting for him to pick up.

Enjolras answered the call almost immediately, his phone discarded and completely forgotten about now that he had Grantaire on the line.

“Hey you,” he said in greeting, his smile wide at the sight of him even though the connection wasn’t the best.

“Hey!” Grantaire said, immediately brightening. “Long time no see.”

Enjolras laughed. “Are you settled in okay? Have you had a chance to look around?”

“Oui, oui,” Grantaire said. “I can’t wait to show you round. In person, I mean. It’s gorgeous - we’re right by the sea.” He shifted, getting up and turning his laptop round so he could give Enjolras a view of his room. “This is my place. Well, part of my place. There are six tiny villas in the complex. Bedroom and bathroom upstairs, living room and kitchen downstairs. They’re planning on renting them out to holiday goers once everything’s finished.”

Enjolras sighed longingly. “Dieu, I don’t know how you’re going to get anything done. I wouldn’t be able to get anything done with the beach nearby. Though maybe that will be inspiring for you, ah? Ah - is that your suitcase? Have you even unpacked yet?”

Grantaire laughed, turning his laptop back round to face him. “A little, a little. I’ve got out what I need for today,” he said. “We’ve got the weekend before we start work, so…”

“We both know you better than that,” Enjolras said, pointing a finger at the screen. “You’re just going to keep pulling out what you need until there is nothing left and you’re forced to just use what’s been cast on the floor and it won’t be until I get there that you get clean clothes.”

Grantaire pulled a face at him. “Are you offering to do my laundry for me?” he teased.

“Non, no way,” Enjolras said, laughing again. “You’re a big boy now. I’ve taught you everything I could.”

“Is that right?” Grantaire teased.

“Oui, that’s right,” Enjolras said with a decisive nod. “If you can’t do your laundry now, that’s not on me.”

Grantaire laughed. “That’s probably fair enough,” he concluded. “So, how’s Ant, ah? Is it dinner time yet over there?”

“She’s good, we ate dinner about an hour ago,” Enjolras said, glancing around the room to look for her. “I think she went into my room for a nap. Do you want me to go get her?”

“Non, non, don’t disturb her,” Grantaire said. “I just wanted to make sure she’s settling in okay.”

“Oui, she’s okay,” Enjolras assured him. “It’s like nothing has changed for her.”

“Good. That’s good,” Grantaire said. “I was worried she’d get… je ne sais pas, homesick or something.” He laughed a little. “Can cats even get homesick?”

“Something similar, I’m sure. It can be upsetting being in a new environment, but she’s been here before, and she’s familiar with me. You have nothing to worry about, ch- ah. She’s good. Everything is good.”

“Good,” Grantaire said, nodding. “I bet she’s loving all the time with you, ah?”

“Ah, I think she’s tolerating me,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “I’m enjoying having her around, though.”

“I’m glad,” Grantaire said, smiling.

Enjolras smiled too, let himself gaze just a little longer at the crinkles Grantaire’s smile caused around his eyes, safe behind the shoddy connection of their video chat.

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow, then? Just exploring more? Are you going to find out what you’ll be working on?”

“We have our first official work meeting on Monday,” Grantaire said. “So, oui, some exploring, some rest, probably. Even a short flight like that is weirdly exhausting - all this nervous energy.”

“Ah, I bet,” Enjolras said, shifting to pull his computer into his lap so he could sit more comfortably on the sofa. “But you’re with people you know, oui? I’m sure they are just all as nervous as you are. You have people going through this with you, that’s helpful.”

Grantaire nodded. “Merci, monsieur rational,” he said. “Oui, it is.”

Enjolras laughed. “Would you rather I said, ah, oui, it sucks you’re nervous. Deal with it.”

“Non, perhaps not,” Grantaire said, laughing too. “It’ll be easier once we start working too, I think. At the moment, it feels like a weird holiday.”

“Honestly, the whole thing is weird to me,” Enjolras said. “How common is something like this?”

“Je ne sais pas, honestly,” Grantaire admitted. “I guess when you’re as rich as these clients are…”

“Ah, it does sound like something my parents would commission.”

“Doesn’t it? If I find out they’re behind this, Enjolras…” Grantaire joked.

Enjolras laughed, and it struck him odd that he could laugh at a joke like that, after everything.

“Just know that if they are, I had absolutely nothing to do with it. I wouldn’t have plotted to send you to another country.”

“Non? Not even to get your hands on Ant?” Grantaire teased.

Enjolras hummed thoughtfully. “You do have a point there.”

Grantaire grinned. “Ah, I knew it. Well, you could have chosen a worse place than this to send me.”

“I thought it was a fair trade off,” Enjolras said with a shrug. “Isn’t Crete worth Ant?”

“Non!” Grantaire laughed. “I mean, I guess it isn’t a permanent exile, at least. That’s something.”

“Or so you think…”

Grantaire feigned a gasp, pressing his hand to his chest. “Enjolras!”

Enjolras grinned. “All I’m saying is, did you check your plane tickets? Is there a return date?”

“Oh mon dieu,” Grantaire laughed. “I had no idea you could be so cruel.”

“Ah, come on,” Enjolras said, laughing too. “This can’t possibly be the cruelest thing I have ever done.”

“I really think it might be,” Grantaire insisted.

“Grantaire, you are getting paid to live on a beautiful island in Greece and paint all day. That is hardly cruel. And I’m sure there are plenty of stray cats you can adopt.”

Grantaire grinned. “What would you do if I came home with a couple?” he asked.

“How are you going to get a couple of cats back from Greece?”

“I’ll work it out,” Grantaire said with an easy shrug, as though Enjolras had asked him what he was going to have for dinner.

Enjolras laughed, rolling his eyes. “They’ll be your responsibility, anyway. You’d better find a flat before you bring them all back here. They aren’t staying with me.”

“Non?” Grantaire teased.

“Non, no way,” Enjolras said, pointing his finger at the screen. “Non. You’re not talking me into another cat.”

“You said that about the first cat,” Grantaire reminded him with a smirk.

“Ant would smother us in our sleep if we brought home another cat. Isn’t she enough for you?”

“Ah, she’s everything,” Grantaire said sincerely. “But you’re still a killjoy.”

Enjolras gasped, clutching at his chest. “How can you say something like that? I brought you and Ant together.”

Grantaire laughed. “Oui, you did, you did,” he conceded.

Enjolras smiled again, relaxing back against the sofa. “As long as you acknowledge the good things I’ve done for you, I can live with being a killjoy.”

“A good balance of both, ah?” Grantaire teased.

“I know I am a little too quick to jump to the extremes,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “I find balance where I can.”

Grantaire laughed, shaking his head fondly. “Want to see the rest of my place?” he asked.

“Ouais, I do,” Enjolras said, sitting up again to get a better look at the screen. “Show me everything.”

Grantaire got up, scooping his laptop up with him and turning it around so Enjolras could see the room around him. “Alors, my room, as you’ve seen,” he said, giving him a thorough 360. “And through here… is the bathroom. I’m really looking forward to trying out that shower. Doesn’t it look great?”

“Almost as great as the shower in Marseille,” Enjolras said, before really thinking about the implications. He hastened to move on, color in his cheeks. “Do you have your own kitchen, too?”

“Oui,” Grantaire said, glad Enjolras couldn’t see his face. “If we just head on downstairs here… Oh, wait!” He doubled back sharply, the video suddenly a blur. “I have a balcony! A tiny, tiny balcony, but a balcony, nonetheless. It looks out over the vineyards, can you see?”

Enjolras laughed, leaning towards the screen and squinting. “There is a glare, but I see,” he said. “I can’t wait to see it in person. Are the grapes growing now? Is it season?”

“Ah, je ne sais pas,” Grantaire said. “We haven’t been down there yet.”

“I wonder if they’d let you try some,” Enjolras said. “Are they owned by whoever is commissioning you?”

“Some are, oui,” Grantaire said. He moved away from the balcony, wary of having stumbled upon a potentially dangerous topic. “Alors, the kitchen! Down this way.”

“I’m going to get motion sickness,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “Do you get money for food? You’re not going to starve are you? You’re thin enough already.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh, which was audible from his position behind the laptop. “Oui, oui, everything is covered. Don’t start worrying about that. Voila, my little kitchen, which I intend to use very little, in fact.”

“Ah, but what about all those Greek recipes you are going to learn and bring back to Paris to cook for me?”

Grantaire groaned a laugh, setting the laptop down on one of the kitchen counters so he could pull a face at Enjolras. “You can learn when you visit, ah? I will be off sampling the genuinely authentic Greek food in town.”

Enjolras grinned. “But what happens when you come back and you miss that genuinely authentic Greek food in town? Wouldn’t you like to recreate it?”

“Ah, merde, you may have a point there,” Grantaire had to admit. “That can be your job while I’m away, ah? Search Paris for good Greek food places.”

“Oui, I can do that,” Enjolras said with a nod. “Don’t say anything if I’ve appeared to gain fifteen pounds by the time you get home, though.”

Grantare laughed. “You could do with gaining a few pounds,” he said. “Alors, through here, we have our final room. The living room. Standard setup - TV, sofa, artificial plant. And then there’s also a little patio out the back here.”

“It looks nice,” Enjolras said. “Not at all like the jail cell they’d told me it would be.”

“Oh mon dieu!” Grantaire laughed, flipping the laptop round as he dropped down onto the sofa. “You’re horrible!”

Enjolras couldn’t help laughing too, delighted at the sound of Grantaire’s laughter.

“I picked up this sense of humor from you, tu sais.”

“Non, non, non, don’t you dare try to pin this on me!”

“Where else would I have learned it from, ah?”

“Bahorel, probably,” Grantaire said.

“Oui, ca va, that’s very possible,” Enjolras said. “But did you also teach him?”

“Also very possible,” Grantaire said, winking at him.

Enjolras laughed, and he hated the way his stomach swooped at that stupid little gesture.

“So maybe you have been a bigger influence than we thought.”

“Ah, maybe, maybe,” Grantaire said, getting a little more comfortable on the sofa. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

“I have some work to do,” Enjolras said with a shrug, masking the fact that he’d cleared his time that evening to allow as much time on Skype with Grantaire. “I’ve taken on a few pro bono cases in the next couple of weeks, so I need to prepare for those. What about you?”

“I think we’re all just going out for dinner at some point,” Grantaire said. “What sorts of cases? Anything interesting?”

“A wrongful termination and an illegal eviction,” Enjolras said. “I considered taking on a foreigners’ rights case, but those tend to be unnecessarily drawn out and immigration law isn’t my strongest suit. I don’t want to be the reason an immigrant man and his family are denied housing and access to health care.”

“That’s fair enough,” Grantaire said, flopping back on the sofa and stretching out, almost catlike in his laziness. “I have no doubt you’d win, though.”

Enjolras scrunched up his nose. “I’ll stick with what I know. The wrongful termination case is a young Muslim man who was accused of stealing a couple hundred euro from the market he works at. He’s requested to see the tapes, but they’ve refused to give them up. I’m sure it’s a set up.”

“Ah, merde, even from my highly uneducated view, that sounds like a steaming pile of bullshit,” Grantaire said, shaking his head.

“It may not get in front of a judge,” Enjolras said with a little laugh. “It might be settled out of court. I’m having a hard time getting them to produce their books, too. I don’t know how much was counted in the register at the beginning of the day and the end.”

“You should send Bahorel round,” Grantaire teased. “You’re too angelic-looking to be intimidating to hardened criminals like these.”

Enjolras laughed. “Ah, come on, I can be intimidating! You’ve seen my angry face.”

“Oui, and it’s adorable.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, and hoped Grantaire couldn’t see the blush he felt on his face.

“I have to go through the legal channels, anyway. I can’t send a large man to intimidate the defendant.”

“I could though,” Grantaire said, grinning.

“Non, you can’t,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “I’m not even supposed to be discussing the case with you.”

Grantaire gasped and clutched his chest, feigning appalled shock. “Enjolras!” he said.

Enjolras’ laughter grew. “I suppose as long as I don’t tell you their names, it’s okay,” he said, and after a moment, “I wonder if I could leak this to the press… do you know how quickly they’d back down with bad press?”

“Mon dieu, do it!” Grantaire said enthusiastically, sitting up a little.

“This is crazy,” Enjolras said, sitting up to reach for his phone. “I’m going to text someone I used to work with. I think their sister works at the local paper.”

“This is amazing to witness,” Grantaire said gleefully.

Enjolras laughed, finishing up the text and setting his phone aside. “You’re a terrible influence, I hope you know.”

“But you’ll win your case,” Grantaire said with a satisfied smile.

“I just might,” Enjolras said. “Hopefully my client will be willing to give a statement.”

“Just send Bahorel round if not,” Grantaire laughed.

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Enjolras said, shaking his head with a laugh. “He seems the type that would want to make a difference with his story.”

“Ah, oui? That’s good, non?”

Enjolras nodded. “He was eager to move forward with a lawsuit, and not just for his own losses. He has a whole community he wants to fight for.”

Grantaire smiled. “It sounds like work is good,” he said.

“Oui, it is,” Enjolras said, smiling too. “For both of us, ah?”

Grantaire breathed a laugh. “Oui, it-” He was interrupted by a knock on the door and he sat up, half-laughing again. “Ca va, ca va, that means it’s time to head out for dinner. We’ll speak again soon, oui?”

“Oh, ouais, sure,” Enjolras said, covering his disappointment with his best smile. “Oui, go on. Take notes on your food.”

“Two seconds!” Grantaire yelled at the door as it was knocked on again. He turned back to Enjolras and spoke far more softly. “Thank you for getting me here.”

Enjolras’ smile softened, and he impulsively reached out to touch the screen. “You got yourself there, I just dropped you at the airport,” he said. “Call me later.”

“Not if you call me first,” Grantaire said with a smile, before hanging up.

The moment the call ended, Enjolras flopped back on the sofa with a dramatic groan, flinging his arm over his face. He wanted to call him right now, wanted to book the next flight out to Crete and just show up at Grantaire’s door. Instead, he closed his laptop and rolled off the sofa to join Ant on his bed, his phone within sight and reach.

Grantaire didn’t text or call again that night. Part of him was too caught up in the dinner out with his co-workers, who were fast becoming more like friends than colleagues. Part of him worried that Enjolras would realise everyone was drinking and would get upset again, no matter how truthful Grantaire was being when he told him he wasn’t joining in.

The next morning, his worry only intensified. He went for an early walk with a couple of others, exploring the surrounding vineyards and winding up down on the beach, and wanted to send photos to Enjolras as well as to Jehan and Combeferre. But what if Enjolras had only been humouring him? What if he’d done all this, got him to the airport and then stayed chatting with him on Skype all evening, because he was relieved to get rid of him?

Once the temptation to book an incredibly last minute flight out to Greece passed, Enjolras trusted himself to open his laptop again and get some work done like he’d told Grantaire he’d planned to do that evening. Though he didn’t expect to hear from him again that night, he certainly hoped to, and it was disappointing - well, no, that wasn’t quite the feeling - when the only person he got any more texts from that night was Finn. The silence from Grantaire didn’t worry him, though, not like it used to. He just plain missed him.

Enjolras woke up early the next morning, as per usual. He went about his routine - a run before the sun came up, a stop at the little market down the street for the morning paper, a quick shower, then coffee as he read the paper. He felt like a retiree and loathed it. He hated more that he’d carried his phone on his run in anticipation of a text or call that never came. They weren’t in a place where Grantaire might be worried to call first, and Enjolras didn’t know his schedule. It made sense that he should reach out first, right?

By mid morning, he was laying out on his little balcony enjoying the warmth of the sun before it got too hot to stand. Ant was curled in her little hammock, already figured out with perfect balance, and it hit Enjolras then how to break the silence. He picked up his phone from where it had always been in reach, volume high up, and took a picture of Ant basking in the sun. He sent it to Grantaire with an accompanying text.

[Text] She misses you, I swear. - E x

It was the perfect opportunity to send back a photo of the beach Grantaire was currently strolling along, the sea a dark turquoise where the sun struck it, the sand soft and warm.

[Text] I swear I miss Paris too. - R x

Enjolras laughed to himself, somewhat a sigh of relief to finally hear from Grantaire and know what he was up to.

[Text] I hope you’ve put on sunscreen. - E x

Grantaire turned the camera on himself and smeared big white streaks of suncream down his nose and across his cheeks before pulling a face and taking a photo to send to Enjolras.

Enjolras was glad to have the privacy of his balcony; his sudden outburst of laughter would have been too embarrassing for anyone but Ant to witness.

[Text] To be fair, I did not say properly. - E x

Grantaire smiled and let his coworkers walk on, finding a spot in the sun to spread out and relax before texting back. So, maybe Enjolras hadn’t entirely been just humouring him.

[Text] Don’t worry - I am smothered in the stuff. - R x

[Text] So, everything’s okay? - R x

It was Enjolras’ turn for a photo. He turned his camera around and lifted it above him so Grantaire could see his little set up; a towel spread out beneath him, a small pillow under his head, and sunglasses on to shield his eyes from the sun. He managed to get a bit of Ant’s face into the slightly off-centered photo.

[Text] We’re pretending we’re on a beach in Greece. -  E x

Grantaire groaned and flung an arm over his eyes. It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair. A year ago, this had all been his. Enjolras could have come with him. It would have been Jehan sending photos of Ant, curled up with Callie or sprawled out in the sun in his apartment.

It took him a while to convince himself he wasn’t going to cry and to reply to Enjolras’ text.

[Text] You won’t have to pretend for much longer, ah? - R x

Enjolras wouldn’t tell him he’d almost bought a plane ticket last night, that he wanted nothing more than to be there right now, he didn’t even care if he had to wait around in Grantaire’s villa while he went off to work. He just wanted to be with him.

[Text] I certainly hope not. - E x

[Text] You have to figure out what your schedule looks like. - E x

[Text] I should get a good idea of it after a week or two, oui? - R x

[Text] I can’t wait to sunbathe in Greece. - E x

[Text] You are sunbathing in Paris right now!!!!! - R x

[Text] But there is no sand or an ocean to swim in when it gets too hot. - E x

[Text] The Seine is right there. - R x

[Text] You have heard of les Paris Plages, non???? - R x

[Text] It’s not the same as a real beach, R. I can’t believe you’re saying when you’re walking on a beach in Crete. - E x

[Text] And the Seine is hardly clean enough to swim in. - E x

[Text] Jehan and I are still alive and well. - R x

[Text] And I'm sitting now actually. Sitting on a beach in Crete. - R x

[Text] I hope you are lounging on a beach in Crete. - E x

[Text] Even if that makes me burn with jealousy. - E x

[Text] I'll see what I can do. - R x

[Text] Actually, in all honesty, we are heading back to the villa now. We all need to get set up ready to start working tomorrow. - R x

[Text] Are you feeling okay? - E x

Grantaire paused before responding, considering the question on the walk back to the villa complex. Were they in a place where he could be honest now? Or was Enjolras just asking out of politeness?

[Text] Oui, I'm all good. - R x

[Text] I mean, a little anxious, t’sais. Just getting settled in and everything. I’ll be okay. - R x

[Text] Give yourself a chance to get settled, ca va? Don’t be too hard on yourself if you’re feeling anxious or homesick and find it hard to focus. You’ll get there. - E x

Grantaire was grateful to be back in his own place alone. He tossed his phone on the bed (it was even a double bed, with plenty of room for two, he tried his hardest not to think) and took a quick shower to wash off the sand and suncream. He didn't cry. Not properly. But he felt better for those few minutes.

[Text] Merci, mon ami. - R x

[Text] And you're okay, oui? Everything's okay at home? - R x

That stretch of silence ate away at Enjolras with every second that passed. Had he overstepped, gotten too deep with Grantaire when all he was comfortable with was talking about beaches and Ant? He got up from his spot on the balcony, suddenly too antsy to just lay there, and went inside to cool off with a glass of water. Did Grantaire even really want him to visit? Or had he just offered because he’d extended the invite to the rest of their friends and didn’t want to be rude?

His phone buzzing on the kitchen counter made him jump. He breathed a small sigh of relief, ignored the sting of being addressed as mon ami that he could only assume was to put him back in his place.

[Text] Oui, everything is fine here. - E x

[Text] Good good good. - R x

Grantaire wondered if he should leave it there. But he didn’t want to leave it there.

[Text] It’s weird being away. - R x

Enjolras thought he should try a bit of distance, respond with something nonchalant like you’ll be home soon enough or enjoy your time away. Anything that might not give away how much he missed Grantaire already. It didn’t happen that way.

[Text] Paris really isn’t the same without you. - E x

Grantaire flopped down on the bed and stared at his phone for a long time, before finally giving in and pressing the button to call Enjolras.

Enjolras’ heart skipped to see the call coming through, and he answered immediately, without worrying about how desperate to talk to him that might make him seem.

“Hey you,” he said, moving from the kitchen to the living room to sit on the sofa. “Everything okay?”

“Hi,” Grantaire said, his heart rate picking up. “Oui, oui, everything’s okay. I just…” He breathed a laugh. “Je ne sais pas. I just got homesick all of a sudden. You don’t mind me calling? You’re not busy?”

“Non, not at all,” Enjolras said, soft smile apparent in his voice. Grantaire felt homesick, and called Enjolras. Not Jehan or Combeferre or anyone else. It made him happier than it maybe should have. “Are you working today?”

“Not officially,” Grantaire said, relaxing a little. “But I’d like to have a wander round and start thinking about what I’m going to work on. Are you?”

“A bit,” Enjolras said. “I need to work on these case files - oh, I heard back from Clara’s sister. We’re setting up a time to meet, she’s excited to write the story. My client even wants to give an interview.”

“Ah, oui?” Grantaire said enthusiastically. “Mon ami, that’s great!”

Enjolras faltered; he’d rather Grantaire didn’t refer to him by anything other than his given name if mon ami was the only other alternative.

“Oui, it is,” he said, managing a small laugh. “Not as exciting as being able to wander along a beach and call it work, but exciting all the same.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “That was all for fun,” he teased. “Work hasn’t started yet.”

“But who is going to stop you from taking trips to the beach if it’s the sea that inspires your work, hm?”

Grantaire smiled. Just two minutes of conversation with Enjolras and he felt worlds better.

“Oui, you may have a point there,” he said.

“You can use that argument, if you’d like, if your patron ever questions why you’re spending so much time lounging in the sand. The sea is your muse.”

“Ah, merci, merci. I’ll bear that in mind,” Grantaire said with a laugh.

“I’m just here to help,” Enjolras said, smile growing at the sound of Grantaire’s laughter. “Dieu, I sound like you, don’t I? Trying to get you out of work so you can relax on a beach.”

Grantaire stretched out on the bed, relaxing a little more now. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time for that too,” he said.

“I hope so,” Enjolras said, breathing a laugh. “That’s the time I’d like to be around for.”

“I think I get days off,” Grantaire said. “Even though this whole thing feels like one long holiday, really.”

“I’m sure that will change once you start working,” Enjolras said. “Or maybe it won’t, ah? What’s that saying about doing what you love?”

“You’ll never work a day in your life, ah?”

“Oui, that’s the one. You may never want to come back, suddenly Paris will be work.”

“But well worth it,” Grantaire said firmly. He yawned. “I miss it already. Greece is making me lazy. Lazier than I was before. And the heat here is unremitting. It’s not home, lovely as it is.”

Enjolras laughed. “Lazier than before? I think it’s the exhaustion from traveling, not Greece. You’ll miss that heat when you’re coming back to snow.”

“Ah, merde, I will be returning to winter, won’t I?” Grantaire groaned.

“Ouais, you will. No one will get to see that beautiful tan.”

“I shall have to say to hell with the cold and become a nudist,” Grantaire declared.

Enjolras snorted. “I think the cold will win out, mon ami. You’ll be quick to suffer hypothermia with no clothes.”

“Not if I stay inside,” Grantaire pointed out, only to start laughing a moment later. “Ah, dieu, I have no inside in Paris. I have nowhere to live there. What has my life become these past few days?”

“A shambles, clearly,” Enjolras said, laughing too. “You won’t have to worry about it for a few months, and you have plenty of people to stay with in any case.”

Grantaire groaned, though he’d known going into this that that would be the case. “It’ll be like being a student again, couch-surfing,” he lamented. “I’m getting too old for this, Enjolras. I need a little cottage in the countryside with a white picket fence, I’m telling you.”

“You are hardly old,” Enjolras said with a laugh. “You know you’re always welcome to stay here. It’s no cottage in the countryside, but I think it’s comfortable.”

For a second, the idea was a blissful one. Then, it occurred to him just how much that would hurt, the constant agony he would be in, living with Enjolras again and sleeping in the spare room.

“Ah, merci,” he said, as lightly as he could. “I guess you’re right, there’s still ages to sort something out.”

It wasn’t an outright rejection, but it felt close enough, even as politely as Grantaire gave it to him. Enjolras felt deeply silly for even suggesting it.

“Oui, no need to worry about it now.”

“Oui, exactement,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Really, don’t worry,” Enjolras said sincerely. “Everything will fall into place, you’ll see.”

“Ah, there’s that conviction of yours,” Grantaire said, affectionately teasing.

Enjolras breathed a laugh. “Is it helping?”

“Always.”

“Good,” Enjolras said softly, smile in his voice. “Feeling any less homesick now?”

Grantaire took a deep breath. “Oui, I’m good. I’m all good.”

“I believe that,” Enjolras said. “I can’t wait to hear all about your first day.”

Grantaire groaned dramatically. “I’d just managed to forget that I’m here to work.”

Enjolras laughed. “You’re living the artist’s dream, R. Don’t pretend to be so miserable.”

“Ah, it’s not going to fly with you then, ah?” Grantaire asked, laughing. “I’ll have to try it on Combeferre. Maybe he’ll have some sympathy in reserve for me.”

“Do you even know Ferre?” Enjolras said. “He’s meaner than I am; your best bet is on Joly or Bossuet.”

“They’re too easy,” Grantaire said. “You want a bit of a challenge, t’sais?”

“Am I not enough of a challenge for you?”

“Too much of a challenge,” Grantaire teased.

Enjolras laughed. “You wouldn’t pay me near as much attention if I weren’t.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “That’s no excuse.”

“Non? Is that not why you acted out in every meeting, for the attention?”

“Don’t play lawyers with me, monsieur - we’re not in court right now.”

Enjolras laughed again. “I’m only saying you shouldn’t be surprised by my behavior.”

“Ca va, ca va, I concede,” Grantaire said, his smile audible in his voice.

“Ah, sweet victory,” Enjolras teased.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“That’s a terrible threat,” Enjolras said. “I’ll just keep annoying you.”

Grantaire’s smile turned sad. “I kind of wish I hadn’t come,” he said.

“Non non non, I’m just teasing, R,” Enjolras said quickly, dropping his playful tone. “You’re feeling a little homesick, that’s all.”

“Ouais, je sais,” Grantaire said, closing his eyes and just listening to the sound of Enjolras’ voice.

“And you’ll start working, and soon you won’t even notice it,” Enjolras said, as calmly as he could. “Crete will be home for a while.”

“Dieu, that’s a weird thought.”

Enjolras breathed a laugh. “Oui, it is,” he agreed. “But you’re in one place, and that’s easier to settle into.”

“Oui, c’est vrai.”

“And I’m only ever a phone call away.”

“Oui,” Grantaire said softly. “Thank you for that.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Enjolras said, matching Grantaire’s tone. “I want to hear from you.”

“Ah, but will you start regretting that when I’m constantly in touch with you for the next however long?”

“Not even for a minute.”

“Can I get a signed contract for that?”

“I’ll draft one up tonight and email it over.”

“I’ll have my Greek lawyer look it over in the morning.”

“You don’t trust my expertise?”

“Aren’t you supposed to always have important contracts looked over by a third party?”

“Why are you suddenly remembering legal advice I gave you years ago?”

“I always make a point of remembering your legal advice!” Grantaire laughed.

Enjolras laughed too. “Only when you’re in some kind of trouble.”

“Well, when else would I need it, ah?”

“I hate to admit that you make a good point.”

“We all know I should have been a lawyer,” Grantaire joked.

Enjolras laughed. “Can you imagine us arguing in a courtroom?”

“It’d basically just be like a Musain meeting, non?”

“The stakes are much higher; the results are recorded, sometimes published for mass media, but always kept forever.”

“Forever is relative, non?”

“Breaking into the courthouse and destroying their records is illegal and you will be prosecuted.”

Grantaire burst into laughed. “That’s not what I was saying!” he protested. “Stop leading the witness! Objection, Your Honour!”

Enjolras couldn’t help laughing too. “Feeling guilty, R? You’re not even on trial yet.”

“So why are you treating me like a criminal, ah?”

“I’m not treating you like a criminal, I’m simply giving you advice.”

“Which would be needed by criminals.”

“Hey, I could be charging you hourly for this advice. It’s friendly.”

Grantaire snorted a laugh. “Dieu, you’re insufferable; I love-” He caught himself just in time. “-it. I love it.” He closed his eyes.

Enjolras’ laughter sounded strained, even to him. Grantaire hadn’t meant anything by his words, his almost words. Just a slip of the tongue, old habits. He couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

“Well, don’t let me keep you, ah?” he said, lightly as he could. “You wanted to go scope out sights, non?”

Grantaire kept his eyes squeezed shut tight. When was it going to stop hurting?

“Ah, oui, I should… Oui. I’m sure you have loads of work to do too.”

“Oui, I do,” Enjolras said, though he couldn’t think of a single thing he needed to get done. He just wanted to fly out to Grantaire. “Talk soon, oui?”

“Oui, talk soon. Say hi to Ant for me.”

“I will. I’ll send you pictures soon.”

“Merci,” Grantaire said softly. He stared up at the ceiling, willing himself to hang up, just hang up.

Enjolras exhaled softly, hesitating over words that he ultimately decided to leave unsaid. “Take care,” he said, hanging up before he got his nerve.

“You too,” Grantaire said, a moment too late. He swallowed and pushed his phone aside, then rolled over onto his side, curling up and closing his eyes.