enjwrites

[enjwrites]

someone in a fanfic: s-stutters in embarrassment

me, closing the tab: sorry I must go

[enjwrites]

blackwork

rating: G

word count: 888

relationships: marius/courfeyrac (pre-relationship)

“Courf, I’m nervous,” Marius mumbles.

“I could’ve told you that, hun,” Courfeyrac responds, not even bothering to look up from his phone. Marius just groans as they make their way to the entrance of the tattoo parlor.

He’s not nervous that it’s going to hurt - that much is obvious. He’s not afraid that it’ll look bad, either - the artist has nothing but good reviews and he’s a friend of Combeferre’s, and Marius trusts him.

By all means, he shouldn’t be nervous. But he is, as always, and he’s glad he’s not getting an arm tattooed because his hands are shaking so violently it seems to be vibrating his whole arm.

Courfeyrac’s hand finds his, steadying him as their fingers intertwine. The warmth is comforting.

Marius can’t let Courf take the reins on this one, though he is nervous, it’s his tattoo appointment - he made that clear in the car on the way here, stuttering his way through a speech about taking responsibility in his own life, to which the ever-kind Courfeyrac nodded with a smile.

The artist, Jon, tells him to sit in a leather chair, before leaving to get the stencil. Courfeyrac hushes Marius’s anxiety with soft words; His voice is so beautiful, Marius thinks. It’s like water, clear and refreshing, but at the same time like the most expensive wine, the kind Grantaire prefers, smooth and enchanting and almost sensual. He could probably take a man apart using only his words - but Marius can’t think about that now, fuck, he’s in public.

Jon comes back after only a few moments, stencil in tow. It’s a geometric design of a lark - Cosette has a squirrel in the same style, and he’s getting it to match hers. It’s a surprise, for her birthday, he tells himself - he needed an excuse to bring Courfeyrac along instead of Cosette.

Not that he wouldn’t have loved to bring his best friend along, but Courfeyrac’s presence is much more comforting in a situation like this, with all his joking and flirtations.

Marius tells himself that.

Jon has Marius remove his shirt - understandable for a chest tattoo, but still nerve-wracking - and they decide on the placement of the stencil, on his left pectoral, the wings spreading onto his shoulder.

Courfeyrac seems to be staring. Marius pretends he doesn’t notice.

About halfway into the session, Marius blindly reaches out with his right hand, and Courfeyrac takes it in his own, squeezing gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Yeah.”

Jon stops for a moment and offers a mini bottle of water, which Marius drinks in record time, trying to slow his heart rate. Marius tries to apologize, but Jon just waves it off with a smile.

Courfeyrac kisses Marius’s hand as Marius manages his breathing.

They’re finished around 10 PM. Jon gives Marius The Talk about safety and tattoo care, and ends with, “Just don’t be stupid. If you have any questions, you can ask Combeferre.”

Courfeyrac posts the picture of the finished tattoo to his Instagram, saying “He’s even prettier now!!!!!!” And if Marius blushes when he sees it, Courf makes no mention of it.

When they get home, Marius, as he’s been instructed, goes to the restroom to put ointment on the tattoo. By the time he’s done with that, Courfeyrac has dimmed the lights in the living room, popped some popcorn, brought out drinks(just soda, because Marius can’t hold his liquor), and put on some Disney movie from their childhood. He motions for Marius to sit next to him on the couch.

They cuddle up easily; this isn’t a new development in their friendship. Courfeyrac is always handsy with his friends, if they’re okay with that. (He definitely touches Marius more than the others, but Marius chalks this up to being close.)

Marius all but lays in Courfeyrac’s lap, with his head on the other man’s chest, arms wrapped around his abdomen. Courfeyrac twists the hairs at the nape of Marius’s neck around his fingers as they(pretend to) watch the film.

Before the movie ends, Marius finds himself drifting to sleep under Courfeyrac’s touch, soft and gentle to match the way he sings quietly along with the musical numbers. A wave of emotion washes over Marius - he feels a sudden urge to move up and kiss Courfeyrac, and his face heats up. The arm around Marius’s shoulders tightens.

“What going on in that head of yours?” Courf asks.

Marius nuzzles into Courf’s chest. “You smell good.” He feels a little rumble of laughter from the chest his head rests on.

“Why, thank you, little rabbit! It’s Dior.”

“Oh, of course it is.”

They both laugh, now. Courf nudges Marius to sit up and look at him. “You’re not even watching this, are you?”

“... No,” Marius says, flustered. “But it’s nice to have the sound.”

Courfeyrac hums, with a little smile. The lights on the screen make his eyes light up, blues and purples against soft browns, and Marius can see the flush in Courf’s cheeks, even in the dark of the room. It’s obvious that Courf notices Marius watching him.

“Do I have something on my face?” Marius snorts and nuzzles into Courf’s neck. “You’re awfully cuddly tonight,” He mumbles.

Marius mumbles something about Courfeyrac being good to cuddle, before dozing off again, to the sound of soft breaths and Disney music.

//

[enjwrites]

red

rating: T for swearing and mild emotional distress

word count: 2155

relationships: enjolras/grantaire

Enjolras tries to drive home. He gets about halfway there before tears well up in his eyes and he has to pull into a corner store’s parking lot. He shuts off his car and rests his head on the steering wheel as he tries to control his breathing.

He calls Combeferre.

“Enjolras? Wh- it’s three in the morning,” Combeferre says on the other line, voice raspy from sleep. “Are you okay?”

Enjolras takes in a deep breath before replying. “We fought.”

Courfeyrac chimes in, a little distant from the phone, it seems, but clear enough. “You two always fight.”

“I’m putting you on speaker,” Combeferre says.

“I know we always fight. We… I…” He takes in another breath, trying to focus on what he’s saying. “We didn’t really fight. I don’t think it was a real fight, anyway. He just…” And he chokes back a sob. His abdomen tightens and twists, though he doesn’t really notice; he can’t stop thinking of the uncertainty showing on Grantaire’s face - the hurt, the insecurity.

“I love him, guys.”

“We know.”

“He doesn’t.”

“Sure he does!” Courfeyrac’s voice lifts a few octaves. “Who else are you willing to get naked around?”

Combeferre shushes Courfeyrac. “Why do you think-”

“Because he... He said he loves me. And I fucking -” a choked sob, “I froze, god, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“So you froze, what’s the big deal -”

“He left, Courf. He got up and ran.” With a look of terror on his face.

“But you were at his apartment?”

“I have no fucking idea where he went, I checked the cafe and the bar, but he doesn’t wanna see me, I fucked it up, he thinks I’m -”

Combeferre shushes Enjolras, now. “Do you think you can come home? I’ll make some hot cocoa, and warm up that cake you liked so much.”

Not much of a phone conversation, Enjolras thinks, but agrees, and does his best to hold back tears as he drives back to the apartment he shares with Combeferre.

Combeferre is waiting with a blanket and a glass of cocoa, with a peppermint candy cane in it, and a place of warm cake on the coffee table.

“I froze,” Enjolras repeats. Combeferre lays a hand on his back comfortingly. Courfeyrac anxiously paces the living room.

“You froze. He ran.”

Enjolras hums. We’ve already been through this.

“He must have thought you were mad,” Combeferre says. His voice is soothingly even, that’s a talent of his - he can always manage to comfort Enjolras. “He jumps to conclusions, you know that. He must think you don’t feel the same -”

“God, I fucked it all up.”

“Try texting him?”

“I’d call him,” Courfeyrac interjects.

Combeferre nods. “Yeah, that, actually. What were you doing when he said it?”

“Cuddling, sort of? On the couch. We watched a movie.”

Enjolras, in all his anxiety, has already finished the cocoa and cake. Combeferre lets Enjolras rest his head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I could call him.”

Courfeyrac decidedly sits next to Enjolras on the couch, rubbing his shoulder sweetly - it’s been a while since Enj has needed this sort of comfort, but they fall into the rhythm quickly. “Enj, love, if I were you,” he sighs, “I’d give him his space. You know how stubborn he is.” Enjolras nods - once, Grantaire said, laughing, “I’m a Taurus, being stubborn is my job.” It was funny at the time. Enjolras can’t laugh, now. “You can text him. Let him know you’re not upset with him, tell him you were just shocked. He probably won’t read them, now, but he’ll read them later.”

Enjolras’s phone buzzes on the coffee table and Combeferre picks it up. “It’s from Bahorel,” He says, relieved, and shows Enjolras the screen.

Bahorel (3:47 AM): grantaire’s being an idiot rn

Another text comes in seconds later.

Bahorel (3:48 AM): listen dude i know he’s overreacting but… (Enjolras then opens his messages to see the full text.) you gotta let him know how you feel. i don’t know what happened but he’s freaking the fuck out

Bahorel (3:48 AM): he keeps saying you don’t love him and i know for damn sure that isn’t true

Bahorel (3:48 AM): just text him or something okay. he’s not mad i think he’s just sad

Bahorel (3:49 AM): luv you xx hope it works out

Enjolras huffs a little, wanting to smile at Bahorel’s instantly-nurturing nature.

You (3:50 AM): I’m going to give him some space, get some sleep. I’ll text him in the morning. Tell him that. I know he probably doesn’t want a text from me right now.

Bahorel (3:50 AM): he may not think he does but he does. he’s starting to pass out so yeah text him in the morning x

Enjolras falls asleep on his couch, and wakes up late. His eyes hurt; they’re swollen, from crying last night. He has a text from almost every one of his friends - he expected this, because Bahorel doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut, neither does Courfeyrac, so between the two of them, everyone had to find out.

Jehan (6:23 AM): I heard what happened. You should text him. I can help you with that.

Marius (7:31 AM): hey i hope ur feeling ok

Cosette (7:46 AM): Call me later we need to talk

Eponine (8:09 AM): i’ll fucking kill you if you don’t patch things up with him i swear to god

Feuilly (9:45 AM): I’m here if you need to talk buddy :(

Bossuet (10:32 AM): Hey r is here he says you hate him? Did you fight? :( Talk to him soon he looks like he’s been crying.

Joly (10:34 AM): Come get your mans we all have work

Musichetta (10:40 AM): I’m taking the boys to work, if R isn’t out of here by the time I get off tonight, you’re getting the death penalty. I love him, but you need to work shit out.

Musichetta (10:41 AM): I love you, too, jsyk. Stop being stupid. Talk to him.

Courf (11:04 AM): hehy i had to leave for work but i will interrogate you on my break you need to talk to r he loves you n  so do i you looked so sad. i hope ur feeling better. Gotta go in now love u xx

Combeferre (12:21 PM): You awake? I’m bringing burgers.

1-555-XXX-XXXX (12:42 PM): its gavroche i stole ur number off ponine i heard what happened im on the way to lunch rn so i cant talk but you better fucking talk to him

Gavroche (12:43 PM): u dont wanna get ur ass kicked by a teenager

Enjolras’s eyes water as he reads the next message.

R♥ (12:57 PM): hey sorry about last night. its cool if you wanna like . break up.  i thought we were there and i was wrong. im sorry.

He locks his phone and tosses it onto the couch next to him, resting his head in his hands, willing away tears. He feels a warmth and a depression in the couch on the other side; Combeferre comes bearing a cheeseburger and hand-cut fries. “From that gelato place on 6th you like so much. I got gelato, too, but you were still asleep when I got home.”

Enjolras takes the place graciously, and notices that there’s already a cool glass of water on the coffee table for him. Can you be alive and still be made a saint? Enjolras thinks, idly, as he chews. His phone buzzes, and on instinct, he looks down at it.

R♥ (1:17 PM): you there?

R♥ (1:18 PM): i know i fucked up but the silent treatment still kinda sucks

Enjolras sighs deeply and sets his plate on the table, picking up his phone.

You (1:18 PM): Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I slept late. Give me a minute, to type up what I want to say, okay?

You (1:19 PM): And I’m not mad. You didn’t fuck up.

R♥ (1:20 PM): you can say that but it’s not gonna change my mind.

Another deep sigh, and at that point, Combeferre squeezes Enjolras’s shoulder gently, then stands and goes to his bedroom.

It takes a minute to type it all up. He’s sure his food is getting cold. He doesn’t care.

You (1:31 PM): I’m sorry. I’m so, so fucking sorry. I froze. I didn’t know what to do, because I’m an idiot, and I’ve never felt anything like this before, it’s new, and I’m not used to not knowing what to do. You know that. So I froze. I fucked up, so badly. You deserve so much more than that. Grantaire, I don’t hate you. I don’t dislike you. I can’t get mad at you, or at least I can’t stay mad, because every time I see your face, I lose my ability to form words, you’re so fucking beautiful in a way I can’t begin to describe. And then you open your stupid mouth and even though you piss me off a lot I can’t be mad that you said anything because your voice is like fucking velvet and you drive me nuts every second you speak because I want to kiss you but that’ll make you stop talking. Please don’t ever stop talking to me. Listening to you talk is like reading the most interesting book in the world; the Library of Alexandria pales in comparison. You always say I’m an angel, but I think you’re confused, you’re so gentle and kind, behind all that sarcasm and bitterness is a sweetheart who just wants to see people smile; I’ve seen the way you are around kids and sometimes that makes me think maybe I want kids, I want kids with you, because you’re so fucking sweet to them it hurts. You’re so fucking talented, I’ve never cared for art or music but yours makes me feel in a way that makes Monet and Bach look like pussies. Just as a note: I can’t tell you what to do, but if you ever cut your hair, I think I’ll die, because you have the most beautiful hair in the world and I want to spend the rest of my life playing with it. Your eyes are so incredible and I know you see me staring sometimes, but you never comment on it, because you’re amazing like that, and I fucking love you, Grantaire.

You (1:32 PM): I love you so fucking much, and I froze, and I hurt you, but I want you to know that I love you.

You (1:32 PM): I don’t want you to ever think I don’t love you.

You (1:32 PM): I love you.

You (1:33 PM): And I’m well aware I’ve just written you a full-length novel. Sorry haha

Enjolras sees Grantaire typing for a second, then the dots disappear. They reappear again, then disappear - this repeats a few times before Enjolras actually gets a message.

R♥ (1:35 PM): holy shit

R♥ (1:35 PM): just

R♥ (1:36 PM): you made me cry you shithead

R♥ (1:36 PM): can you like. come over? Combeferre’s home on his lunch break right

You (1:36 PM): Yeah, let me get dressed, first. Give me, like, half an hour and I’ll be there.

R♥ (1:37 PM): ok

R♥ (1:37 PM): i love you

R♥ (1:37 PM): aaAAA i’m still nervous about saying that!!!!!!!!!!

You (1:38 PM): :’) Cute. I love you too.

R♥ (1:38 PM): !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Enjolras gets dressed in a rush, throwing on a band tee and those black jeans that Grantaire loves.

He gets to Grantaire’s place in 15 minutes flat.

He doesn’t even really need to knock on the door - Grantaire swings it open and pulls him into the apartment, kissing him fiercely, pushing him against the wall.

Enjolras lays his hands on R’s hips, while R lands one hand on Enjolras’s chest, the other cupping his cheek, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

When Grantaire pulls away, he’s panting, his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are watering. He stares up at Enjolras; there’s a heartbreaking uncertainty behind those eyes - he waits for Enjolras to speak. Enjolras rests his forehead against Grantaire’s, taking his hands in his own. Blue eyes meet deep brown, and for a moment, Enjolras is enchanted. Back to business, he thinks.

“Grantaire.” Grantaire hums in response, and holds up on of Enjolras’s hands to kiss his fingers. “I love you.”

There’s a shaky exhale. Then R is pulling Enjolras impossibly tight, burying his head in Enj’s shoulder, quivering as he whispers, “I love you so fucking much.” Enjolras can’t help but smile as he presses a kiss to Grantaire’s neck.

Well, that’s the shortest fight we’ve ever had, Enjolras thinks.

//