#but the combeferres are like a side project

[safeandcalmsingalong]

I.

“I’ve fucked up,” Enjolras says, like it’s a revelation. Combeferre doesn’t roll his eyes, though it’s obvious he wants to. His long nose twitches and wide nostrils flare, just slightly. Enjolras swallows, bruised and grateful and aching. Combeferre is always so patient with him. “So we’ll fix it,” is his quiet friend’s response, the low baritone of his voice calm and even. Enjolras nods, pretends his hands aren’t shaking, and throws himself into planning for the summer ahead. Tries not to think of the cold burn of Grantaire’s disdain. Tries, instead, to honour Musichetta’s anger. To shake off his own solipsism and instead practice consideration for his friends who are scared, or injured, or missing. Breathes quietly, unclenches his cold white fists, makes himself small in the corner behind the couch, and starts fixing. Carves space for the needs of Les Amis. Carves space, for the first time perhaps, for a break of his own. The fluttering ache in his chest is a many feathered thing, and he quells its trembling with resigned, familiar ease.

II.

He could get drunk on this alone, he thinks, the glass of merlot in his hand notwithstanding. Could get drunk on just watching R gesticulate enthusiastically from his perch on the pallet bench. Amelza had built a rooftop garden from old pallets and industrial tubing, creating an urban Eden in the heart of the city. The profile of R’s face is stark against the brilliant midsummer sunset blanketing Paris, as viewed from the Thenardier sisters’ rooftop. His dark curls are framed by the wild tendrils of the hanging plants secured above their seat. Enjolras’s gaze greedily traces the broad flat line of his nose, the high cheekbones and heavy set of his chin. He looks like the only person Enjolras has ever wanted, and the unbidden memory of the last time, the only other time, that they had sat this close to drink red wine together creeps into Enjolras’s mind. There’s a reason he doesn’t drink often, just as there’s a reason he doesn’t spend time alone with Grantaire. It’s self preservation. It’s the evasion of an inevitable, second rejection. But in this moment, with R laughing and dominating their conversation—warm and friendly and so infuriatingly, intimidatingly, smart—Enjolras allows himself the small indulgence. The sunset is a burst of bruised violet and calendula, and Enjolras takes a gulp of his wine, finding solace in the cover of the burgeoning night and allowing himself to want, quietly, desperately, in silence.

III.

He’s been resisting his own desire for so long that it has become second nature.

For a long time he had thought he just didn’t feel this kind of want, didn’t feel inclined towards sex or romance or any of it. And then Grantaire had poked holes in this meticulous self assessment, and had fallen into his heart, into his head, into his bed. Enjolras has nurtured his one sided infatuation for years, has accepted R’s rebuff with graceless determination. At one point he had tried moving on deliberately, but he’s since resigned himself to the fact that, if it took nineteen years for someone to sneak into his heart, it may very well take another nineteen years for someone else to displace him. He’s been callous and ungracious in his hurt and he knows it, but following his latest massive fuck up he’s pushed himself to get close to R, and allowed a true friendship to blossom. He knows he bears the burden of responsibility, knows that the animosity between them has been his own fault.

He’s been resisting his own desire for so long, a silent solitary act of self preservation, that when his control slips he isn’t expecting it.

[Cont'd at https://archiveofourown.org/works/39562173]

(Enjolras fumbles his way through a journey towards love: snapshots of Enjolras’s perspective during it’s a Whole Damn Situation)

#les miserables fan fic #my fan fic #enjoltaire #exr #les mis posting #when ur too sick to function so u post things u have already written cuz it makes u feel like ur being productive

[midasinc]

les amis and toxic traits (affectionate and derogatory):

-courfeyrac has a bad habit of being on his phone when he's with friends. he's mostly either just swiping through his dating app or texting someone on his dating app and he isn't aware that it's really rude. he's also really bad about borrowing money and not giving it back. if he asks for a couple euro for the metro, you will never get it back. he comes from a rich background and money is something that he forgets not everybody has. feuilly is the only one who holds him accountable for it because "i bought you a drink at the pub two weeks ago and you still owe me and i need to pay rent this week :/"

-enjolras is a pen clicker. oh. my god. he clicks pens at the speed of light and if someone asks him to stop, he'll apologize but then start again like thirty seconds later. it is so. fucking. annoying. also i love him but he's really self-righteous and won't admit when he's wrong. when someone has an opinion that differs his own, he can only see things in black or white. you're on his side, or you're wrong. this also applies to other's and their choices in what they do. he always donates the extra euro when he's checking out at a store for whatever donation project is going and if you don't he will give you the stink eye and publicly ask why you won't. no recyclable grocery bags? he will call you out and badger you until you buy one. you accidentally left the light on when you exited the room? oh my god. he has such good intentions but he forgets that not everybody might be as financially secure as him and not everybody is thinking about it at all times. he wants what's good for the world but it really gets on other people's nerves sometimes

-joly is really similar to enjolras in the sense that he calls people out for their health choices without thinking about their situation. he's getting better about it, but he has criticized grantaire to hell and back about all of his bad habits and not in a nice way. he's really harsh when someone is self-destructive or literally just picks like a soda at a restaurant over water. he wants his friends to be healthy but jesus fucking christ dude. no one asked for your opinion, now is not the time.

-feuilly only eats frozen meals. he only lives on lean cuisines. JEHBJWEHRWJH but also this dude smokes cigs a lot and forgets that smoke and tobacco makes some people feel sick or nauseated. he smokes in his apartment even when people are over and doesn't really think it's that big of a problem. enter: enjolras, who has asthma, and just walked through a cloud and starts hacking. anyway, he also gets really defensive when people call him out on it. it's his choice to smoke and whenever someone is like "hey maybe you might want to cut back" when he's buying a new pack of smokes after buying one three days before, he'll get super snappy and rude because it feels like an attack on him

-speaking of nicotine! jehan vapes and i have no room to speak on this subject bc let's not talk about my juul but they are in denial that it's also a problem. they're like "it's healthy shut up" but will go through pods so fast that it's genuinely comparable to feuilly's same bad habit. they started juuling bc they thought the flavours were yummy and it was cool and oh my god. jehan is also really blunt with their sense of humour and doesn't realize that not everybody thinks its funny. walking into a room and just being like "lmaoooo grantaire you look like shit today" and everybody is kind of like "...hm". combeferre is actually good about calling them out on that sort of stuff, though. if jehan realizes they're in the wrong, they'll apologize

-combeferre is. such. a fucking. movie talker. he just has so much to say at every minute of the movie and it's the worst (this is also me so self-roast). nobody likes to watch movies with him because "dude we just want to watch the fucking movie oh my god". he's also really pretentious and a gatekeeper. if you like the same band as him "oh really? well name three songs-" in a way that makes whoever he's feeling to feel stupid. combeferre really prides himself on his intellect, but it goes too far most of the time and it just comes across as super condescending and a lot of people get annoyed talking with him because it just feels like he's talking down at them the whole time

-marius is also super blunt but not in a way that's meant to be funny. he has absolutely walked into a room and gone "oh enjolras your haircut looks so bad im so sorry :(". and similarly to courfeyrac, he forgets the value of money. he's definitely asked people to go somewhere and has said like "yeah! the concert tickets are like 250 euro which is actually super cheap :)" and feuilly is just. dying inside. he intends to be nice, he just says so much stupid shit. he isn't purposely being a bad guy.

-bossuet never re-fills a roll of toilet paper if he's the last to use it. you do not know how annoying it is to room with this guy. grantaire has absolutely shouted "HOW HARD IS IT TO GRAB ANOTHER TUBE???" from the shitter and bossuet just denies it because it embarrasses him. he's also bad about cleaning dishes and will leave a cup in the sink for weeks if it isn't cleaned by someone else or threateningly left in front of his bedroom door. i love u bae but please clean up after yourself

-grantaire is the fucking worst. i love him but he is the worst. he is so self-deprecating to the point where a lot of people just won't be around him because you can only take so much self-pity before it becomes annoying as hell. he's never accepted a compliment and is one of those "omg no my art is so fucking ugly i hate it so much" when someone says they like a sketch or a painting he did and it is just. so annoying. he's also just super bad about caring about him self. baby forgets to shower and wash his hair and wear deodorant and it's like babe. baby. listen- we are not 13 year old boys anymore, we are men and we need to shower. take your zoloft and let's clean up your room <3

-bahorel is a babe but he's too rough with people. he'll slap someone on the back so hard that they choke on their drink. he's also bad about jokes going too far and just being kind of an asshole he'll snatch up something courfeyrac is holding and hold it up high and courf is 5'5 and bahorel is 6'3 and it is just unfair and unfunny and courfeyrac is not laughing and it just gets old so fast. he thinks people are having fun with him but baby they r not. everybody here is givin you the stink eye, just let the bit die

#let's pretend some of these dont extend from me #les mis #les miserables #les amis de l'abc #les amis #modern era #modern au #enjolras #courfeyrac #combeferre #jehan prouvaire #jean prouvaire #jehan #feuilly #bahorel #joly #bossuet #grantaire #les mis headcanons

[probably-enjolras]

i need to feel more comfortable with my grey-aro label so i’m gonna do some grey-aro enjolras headcanons because projecting onto enjolras is how i cope with everything LETS GO

all throughout his childhood, the only crushes enjolras would get were on fictional characters, and even then it was more of a fascination with them than actual romantic feelings

at school, he couldn’t tell the difference between a crush and just thinking someone is cool so he never pursued anything, which he didn’t mind. he really based all his worth on academics and he thought relationships would get in the way of that

in high school (i only know the american school system so i’m sorry french people if this isn’t how it is for you) all of his friends started dating, and a friend of a friend had a crush on him. enjolras desperately wanted to feel normal, especially because he was struggling with his gender, so he started dating this person

needless to say it didn’t work. enjolras waited and waited for the romantic feelings to come but they never did. eventually he decided it wasn’t fair to the person he dated if enjolras continued the relationship. they wanted different things, and this kind of drove a wedge between him and his friends because his friends didn’t understand why he was breaking up with his partner. this left enjolras feeling even more alone

finally he graduates and goes to college and starts over. he presents as male and doesn’t tell people he’s trans, and people just assume he’s gay because he doesn’t have any attraction to women or, well, anyone really. he does find men attractive and he likes different looks on men, but he never looks for a relationship because he doesn’t feel any romance

befriending les amis, first courfeyrac and combeferre, then feuilly, then bahorel and grantaire, and finally joly, bossuet, and jehan, was really beneficial for him. he learned about the term aromantic and he finally felt like he knew who he was

until grantaire had to throw a wrench into the whole thing. ever so slowly, with each battle of wills with grantaire, enjolras starts feeling things he never did before. and when i say slowly i mean YEARS. it takes until he gets his bachelors and is going into his masters program that he even notices that he feels differently about grantaire than he does his other friends.

he had a “crush” on feuilly, which sent him into a spiral for a little bit before realizing he just felt great respect for him, but other than that, he just loved his friends platonically and deeply, even grantaire, so he didn’t really notice the slow change. finally when he catches himself thinking about a potential future with grantaire and how much he would love to be held in his strong arms (grantaire shows off his arms when he comes back from boxing with bahorel) and he’s like oh fuck

by this point in his life, anytime he has a crisis, enjolras goes directly to courfeyrac and combeferre. courfeyrac is his emotional side and combeferre is his logical side and they just get him more than anyone else in his life. courf calms enjolras down and is like “labels change it’s ok” and enjolras is like “but what the fuck am i feeling? i don’t want to go into a relationship and end up not liking it. i don’t want to lose grantaire as a friend” so combeferre suggests journaling. any time he feels what he considers “non platonic” feelings for grantaire, take a note on his phone and after a few months, review them and decide whether that counts as romance for him.

enjolras does this and subsequently confused the hell out of R because they would be in the middle of an argument and enjolras would pick up his phone and write something down then go back to the argument

finally, he decides that he DOES have romantic feelings for grantaire. they may be different romantic feelings than a traditional hallmark movie love, but it’s his own way of feeling.

he ends up asking R out , and on the first date enjolras explains that he has a crush on grantaire but he isn’t really a fan of affection, he only tolerates it in small amounts and only in private, so he may not express his love in the usual way.

grantaire is honestly really happy about it because when enj asked him out, he was worried their debates would go away and he would lose the enjolras he knows. he fully accepts that being grey aromantic is a part of enjolras, and he’s not going to ask him to change for him

enjolras briefly considers the term “queer platonic relationship” but he just doesn’t think it fits with how he and grantaire work, but he does keep it in the back of his mind for helping other aromantic people and he looks back on his past and sees where, if people understood him, he could have had a relationship like that

enjolras doesn’t believe in soulmates, but he does think grantaire is his one true love. it took 26 years for him to feel romantic attraction, and even then it’s not fully the way non aromantic people feel love, but he knows that if he is going to fall in love with someone, it’s grantaire

ok i know i ended this in romance but that’s because i do like the idea of a romantic relationship i just don’t feel romance frequently or as fully as someone who isn’t aromatic and this is MY projection post I get to pick the ending lmaooo

#enjolras #aromantic!enjolras #aromantic enjolras #grey aro enjolras #greyaro!enjolras #les mis #aromantic headcanons #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #ryan.txt

[barricadebops]

A combination of 2, 5, 7 and 11. For my loves E and R.

Prompts:

"Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"/"OH you're jealous!"/"Please just kiss me already." /"I think I'm in love with you."

The creak of the door opened wide enough to spill streams of light into the dark room as Grantaire turned away and groaned, an arm draped across his eyes. 

See, it wasn't that he was sick or had a headache that he needed to stay in bed and rest, and that the light was currently unbearable. None of that was true.

The matter at hand was that the day prior, Grantaire had broken his leg attempting to help Musichetta move into her new apartment with Joly and Bossuet, and it seemed Bossuet's bad luck was spreading to infect others with the way Grantaire had tripped and fallen down the stairs, breaking his leg in a rather painful manner. 

Now that he thought of it, Bossuet was near him when the accident occurred. Yes, it seemed Bossuet was definitely spreading his bad luck onto the others, starting with him.

And the thing is, it was just a broken leg. It wasn't as if he had caught the plague and was going to die. But Joly ordered him strict bed rest for the rest of that day continuing into tomorrow, and as much of a jolly man Joly could be, he could also muster quite the threatening smile when it came to medical matters. 

So Grantaire wasn't taking chances. Besides, even if he wanted to, it's not like Enjolras would let him. His boyfriend was taking this whole role of "personal-carer" (he said he refused to call himself a "doctor" on accounts that doing so would erase the years of hard work people like Combeferre and Joly go through to become one--Grantaire personally thought it didn't matter because none of this was necessary anyways, but hey, what does he know) a bit too seriously if you asked Grantaire. 

His boyfriend. God what a sentence. Grantaire could probably heal himself with those words only if this were some magic-kids cartoon or something.

So no, he wasn't physically sick; he was sick of having to lie in bed all day. He didn't feel sick. He wasn't sick. Hell, he didn't even have a hangover. As long as he used his crutches, he could move along. 

But alas. Joly. If he was here, he knows Joly would make some sort of a jollity out of being confined to the bed.

His attention was drawn out of his head and back to the present as the bed dipped by his side and he pitched his eyes up to Enjolras' familiar blue pair. 

Well, there wasn't much positive about his predicament, but the extra time with Enjolras? That was likely the one good thing that came out of this. 

Not that he didn't get enough time with him. But any extra time he got to spend with him was all the better. 

By his side above him, Enjolras laid a hand on his chest. "Are you feeling alright?" he murmured, mindful of the silence that preceded his entry into the room. 

Grantaire grinned up at him. "I broke my leg, Enjolras, I didn't have a stroke." All the same, he raised his own hand to curl around Enjolras', brushing a thumb over his soft skin. 

"It was worth asking," was all he replied softly. 

He rubbed another circle on Enjolras' hand before raising it up to his lips and pressing a light kiss on it. Enjolras' smile grew more brilliant even in the dim of the room. He chalked it up to the brightness of his, as Jehan once put it in a poem, exquisite teeth.

At the red that bloomed on Enjolras' cheeks, he smiled and teased, "Is there a reason why you're blushing like that?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." 

"Why yes," he grinned harder at the way his blush grew darker, and he paused a moment to press another lingering kiss on his knuckles, "I would like to know." 

Enjolras carded a hand through his curls, prompting a satisfied hum from Grantaire. "Live in suspense." 

He reached up his hand not already occupied with holding Enjolras' own and twirled a finger around a stray curl on the side of Enjolras' face.

"I thought lecture ended at three? It's--" he glanced briefly at the clock-- "five now. I'm not trying to keep you trapped at home, I can tell from personal experience it's not fun, but you've gotta understand my curiosity here."

Enjolras hummed. "Well, one of your classmates--I think he said his name was Sadiq--he said you left your newest project in Dr. Alvarez' classroom, but that her room was still open. And I would have passed the building on my way back here anyways, so I thought I could bring it home so you could still work on it. If you're up for it, that is." 

Grantaire's eyebrows knit in concern. "Enj that canvas is by far one of the heaviest things I've painted on before. You walked all the way home carrying that thing?"

With a teasing smile, Enjolras said, "It's my secret superpower." 

He quirked an eyebrow. 

Enjolras chuckled. "Alright, no I didn't walk home. The canvas does have some considerable weight to it. But I did bring it home; Maxence was driving me home, and he said he wasn't in any rush. And don't worry, I'm the one who loaded the project into the car, I know it's important. And I made sure he drove extra slow and careful too. So… here I am." 

Quite on the contrary, the idea of Enjolras on an extra slow car-ride with Maxence didn't exactly please Grantaire. Really the thought of Maxence anywhere near Enjolras didn't please him. 

He knew these were his insecurities at play. He knew he should probably address them before his behaviour turned toxic. But really, there had to be some merit to his dislike and suspicion of the man. He saw the way he would look at Enjolras, the way his touches would always linger just the slightest bit too long. And of course, Enjolras, who himself was quite the tactile person with his friends, never thought anything wrong of it. 

But everytime he was there with Enjolras, offering "companionship" by walking out of class with him, or walking him to his next lecture, or offering to help study a concept at the coffeeshop a sizeable distance away from the Cafe Musain--Grantaire couldn't help it; he seethed. 

Some of that displeasure must have shown on his face, or must have made itself heard in the beat of silence he allowed to stretch on for just a moment too long for it to not have been charged, but not with any sort of buzzing of joy. 

Enjolras' face immediately faltered. "Is something wrong?" He hesitated. "Should I have left it?" 

And despite the fact that his mind was clouded over in a haze of resentment at the mention of Maxence, he still had enough of it in him that he couldn't stand the way Enjolras' lips pulled down at the corners. He forced a smile on his lips as he strained to say, "No, why would you ever think that? Your mind, Enjolras, I swear I don't know where you get your ideas from sometimes, it's unreal--"

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupted. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question. 

But Grantaire himself had never been one for answering what had been asked of him, so instead he smirked a little this time and lightly squeezed Enjolras' hand still held in his own. 

Sighing, he could tell Enjolras knew there was no point in pursuing a topic he knew he wouldn't get answers to, so instead he shifted and moved Grantaire head up off his pillow so he could instead lie his head in Enjolras' lap. He let out a contented sigh and burrowed closer as he felt his boyfriend's hand slip into his curls, stroking softly.

"Combeferre and Courfeyrac really need to sort things out," Enjolras murmured quietly. "I swear I'm going to lose it with the pining in that house. It's thick enough to--"

"To cut with a knife?" he finished lazily. Enjolras hummed an affirmative.

"Exactly. I mean, how any two fools can be this oblivious I have no clue. Courfeyrac keeps going out of his way to do all these things for Combeferre, and while I generally don't like using this phrase because of the way it tends to imply that romantic relationships are somehow superior to platonic ones even though that's not true at all, it's clear to anyone that Courfeyrac's trying to show he thinks of Combeferre as maybe more than a friend, and I don't know how Combeferre--who himself is clearly in love with Courfeyrac!--can miss them, I mean the gestures are clear enough--"

He hummed distractedly, too taken with the way Enjolras' hand felt in his hair. "Like the way Maxence drives you around all the time?" 

The hand in his hair stopped stroking abruptly. "What?" 

Grantaire peaked his eyes open in confusion before shutting them closed again, wondering why Enjolras stopped before the memory of the last few seconds struck him hard enough to make his eyes fly open once more as he realized what he said. 

"Wait, no, I--"

"Why does that matter?" 

He glanced away nervously, only to find once he looked back at his boyfriend, that Enjolras didn't look angry or even miffed. If anything, there seemed to be a hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

His throat dried; he wasn't exactly sure how he was supposed to react. "I…" 

Enjolras tilted his head, peering into his eyes with a sort of intensity it seemed only he possessed, though offset just the slightest bit by the way he seemed to be biting back a smile. "What's wrong with that? In fact, it's better when considering carpooling is a good choice to reduce emissions--though not the best way, mind you--and it saves time too. I don't see what's wrong. Maybe it's his vehicle?"

"Enjolras--"

"Or maybe--wait!" Enjolras' grin broke out in full this time. "OH you're jealous!"

Grantaire let out a long-suffering groan. "You're going to tease me about it?" 

Enjolras made a dramatic show of thinking. "Well," he started, "if I did tease you, you would kind of deserve it for being stupid enough to be jealous of someone I clearly see as a friend." 

"Well he clearly sees you as much more than that," he muttered darkly in reply. 

Enjolras pulled a hand through his hair, though this time was more to call attention to his eyes once more. "I know that, Grantaire. And I've been meaning to talk to him about it, too," he said softly.

His eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "Wait, you--?" 

"I'm not entirely oblivious, you know," he continued with a hint of amusement. "I know that he's been… trying to get past the territory of friendship. But of course, I'm not exactly looking for that with him. And I'm going to talk to him about it soon." He paused for a second before continuing on, "You, however, should comfort yourself with the trust that I hope you have in me, enough to know I wouldn't be dishonest to you in that kind of way ever."

He sighed. "I know. I don't doubt you, I just…" he trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence, even if he could recognize the emotions swirling around in his head. 

Enjolras cupped his cheek, and he gazed above into his face, an expression so gentle it almost made one wonder how it could turn severe, though it did happen on occasion. "We'll talk about this later, but we will talk about it," is all he said. 

"I'm sorry." 

Enjolras leaned forward, his curls reaching low enough to tickle Grantaire's forehead. "You are forgiven," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his skin.  

Grantaire closed his eyes took a moment to revel in the feeling of Enjolras' lips on his skin, humming in content for the while they lingered, and attempting to stifle his disappointment when he drew back. Of course, his attempts were no good and Enjolras laughed.

"Too quick?" he asked, teasing. Grantaire opened his eyes once more and grinned. 

"Always too quick. Would it be too fast to ask for another?" 

"That depends." Enjolras scratched softly at his head. "What's the magic word?" 

Grantaire's grin grew. "Magic words, you mean. All hail Feuilly our saviour."

Enjolras let out a surprised laugh. "While that is true, it wasn't what I was looking for." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled down at him mischievously. "Looks like no kiss for you--"

"No!" he interrupted. Enjolras' laughs grew more vibrant, making Grantaire soften at the sight of it. "Please?" 

"Hm. Please what?" Enjolras continued to tease. 

"Please just kiss me already."

This time, when Enjolras' lips kissed his own, he could feel the way they stretched into a smile, prompting Grantaire to smile into the kiss too. 

When Enjolras drew back, Grantaire had thought he had never seen quite so lovely a sight in so long. If Enjolras at his most fiery was like the radiance of the bright sun, then at his gentleness he had to be the soft colours of the morning's dawn. 

And for Grantaire, who had for so long seen only dark night, it was surely a most beautiful sight. One that ought not to be corrupted with a toxicity such as jealousy.

"I think I'm in love with you," he muttered in amazement. 

At that, Enjolras' smile simply grew even more dazzling.

"I'd sure hope so, or this engagement ring you bought me really would have been a bit of a waste," his fiance said, joy evident in his speech. "But know that I love you too."

#I FINALLY FINISHED A PROMPT #my God this is months old #anon PLEASE forgive me I was going though a bit of a rough patch #ah yes the end in which I reveal they're engaged how original #les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #enjoltaire #ExR #les mis fic #enjoltaire fic #les miserables fic #annie writes stories #long post

[aromantic-enjolras]

Joly/Combeferre for the platonic ask, and the prompt I request is “asking one another how their day was”

Here you go! Again, I seem to be unable to write anything shorter than 1K words, so this is going to Ao3. I'm pretty sleep-deprived at the moment, so I hope it's good!

Summary: Joly sighed, laying his head on the breakroom table and fighting a stress headache. He then probably nodded off there and then, because next thing he knew, a coffee cup was being placed in front of him; and not even a cup from the shitty hospital machine, but a reusable cup with a Lord of the Rings pun that he recognized as the one Combeferre always carried around when he was on shift.

"You looked like you needed it more than I"

----

Joly has had a really long day at the hospital, and Combeferre comes to help and comfort him.

Word count: 1190.

Warnings: Sleep-deprivation, slight talk about injured people coming to ER.

#Answer time #text posts #my posts #fanfiction #my writings #my Ao3 #Combeferre #Joly #Platonic Friendships

[mostgeckcellent]

my submission for the @drinkwithme-exchange for @fuckyeahlesmiserables

I originally wrote something completely different, and I didn't like it at all, but you mentioned you liked my Old Guard series, so I wrote a new installment of that for you instead!

Platonic Ships: Eponine & Musichetta, Eponine & Grantaire

Eponine swirled her glass. Cosette was still with Enjolras - she’d dragged their newly-returned-from-the-dead friend off pretty quick, but Eponine was still processing. Did she believe him? She wasn’t sure. He’d convinced Bahorel, though, and Baz had never been the type to believe just anything without questioning it, especially something as batshit crazy as all of this.

Immortals. What next?

She drained what remained of her whiskey and coke, and stood. She needed to go for a walk.

Eponine was three blocks away from Jehan’s little house when Musichetta caught up to her.

“Hey.” Musichetta put a hand on Eponine’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Eponine stopped walking, lit a cigarette. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You know it’s okay if you’re not,” Musichetta said, never one to just back down.

“Yeah,” Eponine repeated with a sigh. “You want one?”

“Sure.” Musichetta took the offered cigarette; Eponine lit it for her.

They stood in silence for a while. Eponine liked that about Musichetta, that they could just be. That she didn’t have to talk, or fill the space.

“It’s fucked up, right?” Eponine said eventually.

“Yeah.” Musichetta didn’t have to ask what. Enjolras’ return was a miracle unlooked for, of course, but it was bittersweet, too. They’d mourned him. Not moved on, never moved on - it felt impossible, when there were no answers - but he’d left them.

Eponine understood. She did, probably better than any of the rest of them. She of all people knew about needing to run away and not look back, knew about new lives and new beginnings and the colliding of worlds.

It still hurt, to have been left behind.

“It’s good to have answers,” Musichetta said eventually, when their cigarettes were burned nearly to stubs. “Fucking weird answers, mind you-”

Eponine laughed, sharp. “Fucking weird answers,” she agreed.

“-But it’s good to have them,” Musichetta finished.

“Yeah,” Eponine agreed. “I’m glad he’s alive. And hey, if he really is immortal, I can shank him for doing that to us,” she grinned, all teeth and no joy.

Musichetta nudged her in the side. “You’re not gonna stab Enjolras,” she shook her head.

“I might,” Eponine protested.

“You’re not going to stab Enjolras,” Musichetta repeated sternly. “I know you’re mad. We all are, a little. It’s a lot. But-”

“But what? But he had to?” She knew that. “It wasn’t safe?” She knew that too. She dropped her cigarette, put it out with her heel. Could hear Enjolras’ voice in the back of her head, chiding her for littering, for letting the chemicals inevitably leach into the water somewhere. She ignored it.

“Yes,” Musichetta said, as if it were that simple. “And he came back in the end.”

“Because he got caught,” Eponine snarled. “Not because-”

“He cares about us. He cares about you,” Musichetta said softly.

“Does he?”

“You know he does.”

Eponine sighed, looked away. “I’ll forgive him eventually,” she muttered. “I’m just - I’m not ready yet.”

“Okay,” Musichetta agreed with a soft smile. “Can I hug you?”

Eponine rolled her eyes a little, but she opened her arms, and really, she’d never admit it out loud, but Musichetta’s hugs had a way of making her feel like everything really might be alright, someday.

--

Enjolras would stay for three days. That’s what he said when he got off the phone with his friends. Three days. His friends would make the drive today, his new family.

Eponine didn’t resent him for it. Or - she did, a little. He’d ran off with his new friends to a new place and left them all to pick up the pieces, and now his new friends were coming here. But it was fine, and Eponine didn’t resent him.

Maybe if she repeated it enough she’d convince herself.

She knew she wasn’t being fair to him. She knew she was wasting time - if they only had three days, she ought to be making the most of it, not sulking in the bathroom.

“You’re going to regret avoiding him the whole time when he has to leave again,” came Musichetta’s voice from the other side of the door, because Musichetta was a fucking mind reader.

“Maybe so,” Eponine called back, but she unlocked the door and opened it.

“Apparently they’ll be here in around an hour,” Musichetta reported. “They started the drive this morning.”

“Great,” Eponine muttered.

“Ep.” Musichetta frowned. Apparently, sympathy hours had run out. “Come on. They’re important to him.”

“We used to be important to him,” Eponine scowled.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Musichetta stepped into the bathroom with Eponine, shutting the door behind her. “I love you, you know I do, but he still loves us. And you’re going to feel like shit when he’s gone, and you’ve just been resentful at him the whole time. Did he do a shitty thing? Yes. Do you have a right to be upset by it all? Absolutely. But you’re going to kick yourself for wasting the time you’ve been given.”

Eponine glared at Musichetta for a long moment, but Musichetta was used to her moods, and didn’t back down an inch.

Eponine deflated, sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair. “So, we’ve moved on from pity to ass-kicking, huh?”

“You know the drill, baby,” Musichetta grins at her. “One day for wallowing, and then we get the fuck back up again.”

“Ugh. I fucking hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Musichetta clapped Eponine on the back. “C’mon. Let’s go do this thing.”

--

Enjolras’ friends were.. Well. They were an odd bunch, which meant, in the end, that they fit right in. Marius was looking up at Courfeyrac with the widest puppy eyes, enraptured by the tales he wove. Marius wasn’t the only one - even Eponine had to admit the man had charisma. He’d won over most of the group within moments of arriving, cheerful and kind as he was. Combeferre was a quiet, steady presence beside him, the pair of them orbiting each other in a way that was as enthralling as it was sickeningly sweet. Joly had managed to tear Combeferre away for a separate conversation at some point; Eponine wasn’t listening, had stopped listening when they had started discussing the more gruesome points in medical history. And then there was Feuilly - she was gorgeous, and better yet, she swore like a sailor and beat Bahorel at arm wrestling three times in a row. Enjolras’ new friends had been folded neatly into the Amis, like it was easy, like they fit.

Well, most of them. One man kept to the corner, nursing a drink and watching Enjolras, always watching Enjolras.

“Grantaire, right?” Eponine leaned against the wall beside him.

He looked over at her, startled. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“A bit old for him, aren’t you?” she asked, because she wasn’t stupid, she knew what it meant that Grantaire stared like that, that Enjolras only blushed when stumbling over his introduction of Grantaire, and not the others.

Grantaire snorted. “You have no idea,” he admitted. “But he knows what he wants, and I’ve learned not to get in the way of his decisions.”

“Hm.” Eponine sized Grantaire up. Honestly, she’d assumed Enjolras was some sort of monk, before he’d disappeared. He’d never dated, never so much as looked.

He definitely looked at Grantaire, though. In fact, he was looking now, looking away from his conversation with Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Marius and Cosette to stare at Grantaire, and it wasn’t a look Eponine had ever seen him direct at anyone before.

“You’re not what I’d have expected for him,” she said.

“Tell me about it.” Grantaire didn’t seem to care to argue the point.

Eponine narrowed her eyes at him.

He glanced at her, and shrugged. “I love him,” he said after a moment. “When I was ready to give up on the world, there he was, all..” He waved a hand in Enjolras’ direction. “Well, you know him. You know what he’s like - justice and whatever, Apollo fucking incarnate, the way he speaks..” Grantaire trailed off. “I don’t know how anyone can hear him talk and not love him.”

“I dunno, he’s not really my type,” Eponine said drily, a smile beginning to curl at the edge of her lips despite herself.

Grantaire laughed. “Must be weird, all of this.”

“Now there’s an understatement,” Eponine muttered, eyes locked on Enjolras, who had returned to his conversation.

“He’s not going to age,” Grantaire said, not quite casual.

“I guess not,” Eponine agreed.

“It’s going to kill him, watching you all age and die.” Grantaire crossed his arms over his chest.

Eponine.. hadn’t thought about that. “Is that why he stayed away?”

“Absolutely not.” Grantaire huffed out a laugh, though he didn’t seem happy about it. “No, he wanted so badly to get in touch, no matter how much we - I - warned him he’d just get hurt. He thinks it’s worth it.” Grantaire looked around the room, and Eponine could see when he softened. “Maybe he was right,” he allowed. “I just hope it doesn’t break him.”

“So you’re the reason he stayed away,” Eponine narrowed her eyes at him.

Grantaire glanced at her. “I just want him to be safe and happy. Getting attached to mortals? Never ends well.”

“It wasn’t your call to make,” Eponine frowned at him.

“No,” Grantaire agreed. “It wasn’t. I didn’t try to stop him from coming here, I just..” He sighed.

Eponine sighed too. “You’re right,” she said eventually. “It’ll kill him to watch us die. And he won’t look away, I know he won’t, he’ll be here.”

“Yeah,” Grantaire agreed.

Sad wasn’t the right word for Grantaire, Eponine thought. Weary, to his bones, with sadness etched into him… for a moment, she felt like she glimpsed him properly, ancient and grand as he was. And then he was just a guy again - a young man in a green hoodie, someone she’d pass on the street and never give a second thought to.

“You’ll be there for him, when it happens,” Eponine said like it was a certainty. She had to hope - believe - that it was.

“Yes,” Grantaire agreed. “I’ll be there. So will they.” He gestured to where Enjolras was gesticulating wildly, accidentally smacking Courfeyrac’s nose when a gesture went too wide. Courfeyrac just laughed, and tweaked Enjolras’ nose in return. Enjolras squawked indignantly, and then the whole group of them were laughing, Cosette and Marius included, and Bossuet, who had joined them at some point.

“You’ll keep in touch,” Eponine said. It wasn’t a question. She held out her phone.

Grantaire looked at her for a long moment. She didn’t squirm, didn’t flinch, just raised an eyebrow.

Grantaire nodded, took the phone, and plugged his own number in. Enjolras’, too, for good measure.

“I was determined to hate you all,” Eponine admitted as she took the phone back.

“I get that,” Grantaire agreed.

“I don’t,” Eponine pocketed the phone. “He seems happy. And he’s out there, making a difference or whatever. If he can’t do it with us, I’m.. glad, I guess, that he can do it with you.”

“He’d stay if he could,” Grantaire said.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” Eponine shook her head. “He cares about you a lot. And them, too, your whole bunch.”

“He’s got enough in his heart of all of us.” Grantaire looked at her.

Eponine smiled a little. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

#les mis #drinkwithme2021

[cumbercookiebatchs]

Okay, so, this is my first time joining something like this and im pretty nervous, but here’s my take for @enjoltaire-winter-week

7.12- Family x Colors

Everything started when Combeferre had a break down.

Right.

Enjolras still couldn’t think about it, but between university, his job and the numerous project he was carrying to top it all, even Combeferre had fallen under the pressure, unleashing a concatenation of events that had found its end in Courfeyrac’s offer for them all to go and spend Christmas at his family’s cabin.

“Won’t your parents object?” He’d asked because, yeah, with a cabin on the alps ,Enjolras guessed they’d want to spend Christmas there, with snow and all that.

“Nah, they’ll spend Christmas with my aunt”

So, it was settled, and a week later the amis found themselves on the road, so early in the morning the sun had yet to come up.

Enjolras didn’t mind that much though, sat as he was, plastered against Grantaire and his warmth. He didn’t even know how he’d ended up there, but coming to think of it, it could have been because of Cosette and the scheming she started as soon as she’d learned about his crush on Grantaire.

Oh well.

The chattering from the front seats was low and steady, and soon he was asleep again, blinking his eyes open when something tickled his nose.

It took him a few seconds to realize what was really going on, how he was hugging Grantaire’s arm, with his head on his shoulder, but when he did his whole face went ablaze.

Grantaire didn’t seem to have a problem with it though, and just smiled at him that cute little smile of his, “We’re here, Jo” and, yeah, right, the car wasn’t moving anymore.

He tried to get a grip on himself and moved away to free Grantaire’s arm, stifling a yawn in the process and definitely not peeking at Grantaire and at how well his coat framed his shoulders. Uh.

Another smile, and Grantaire stepped outside on the snow-covered soil. He stretched his legs and bent down, smug face grinning at Enjolras through the car’s window “Oi, did you know that you snore?”

Enjolras gasped, throwing his hat at his face, “Liar!”, he screamed, but Grantaire was already jogging inside, leaving Enjolras in the car, blushing and without his hat.

And, yeah, that coat was really something.

Sighing at himself and at his horrible romance skills, he got out of the car too, taking in the landscape before him for the first time. Everything was white and silent, the snow shined under the bright sunlight and jumped into his eyes. Enjolras filled his lungs with the icy air  before stepping inside.

 The cabin was a bit of a dusty mess, but by night everyone was settled, the whole place cleaned up and on its way to look like Santa’s village.

On the far side of the room, the Christmas three glittered red and green, just like the lights Jean was draping everywhere. Courfeyrac moved around the room spreading tinsel and chocolate and kisses alike, and it  felt  so much like home, the laughers, the warmth, filling his chest with love and affection. A sweet smell of cookies came from the kitchen, and suddenly everything was too much, melancholy wrapping around him like a cloak.

Sighing, he rested his temple and shoulder on the frigid window, confused by himself and his treacherous mind.

It was so dark outside, the sky filled with stars.

He shivered but he paid it no mind, watching his own breath fall humid on the window.

Something fell on his shoulders – a blanket, he noticed- and Grantaire sat down beside him right after, rubbing his palms on his jeans. He was wearing antlers toppled with bells, and they giggled when he leaned down.

“Is everything alright?” he murmured, as if catching the strange daze overcoming Enjolras, and he was just so, so endearing, with his warm ugly sweater and his crocked nose, it was so hard for Enjolras not to curl up beside him and bask in his warmth, but he settled with a tiny shrug of his shoulders instead. “I’m just, not used to spend Christmas like this. Makes me notice what I’ve missed, I guess”

“Your family’s not much for the holidays?”

“My family’s not much for family.”

“Oh, I see.”

Grantaire’s voice was soft, his eyes warm as he scooted closer, cradling Enjolras’ palms and playing with his fingers. He wasn’t looking at him, his gaze on their intertwined hands, but Enjolras ‘eyes were fixed on him, on his fringe and how it fell on his forehead, on his little smile that showed off his dimples, and another wave of feelings washed over him, made him falter as his heart sped up.

Grantaire ran the rough pad of his thumb on Enjolras’ knuckles, looking at him from under his lashes.

Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up violently, feverishly so, breath hitching when Grantaire leaned in again,“You know, - he said- as a wise man once said, family doesn’t end with blood, and it seems to me that we both did a pretty good job in finding our own family, don’t you think?” and, his smile was so tender, doing all kind of things to Enjolras’ heart.

His eyes even watered, just a little bit.

“You’re right. You really are.”

Grantaire gasped playfully, maybe to lighten up the mood, Enjolras didn’t know but was glad anyway, subtly wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“Yeah, you’re right, but don’t think I missed the Supernatural quote” he said, chuckling and leaning his head on Grantaire’s shoulder, in what he hoped would pass as a simple show of gratitude. Their hands were still intertwined, resting where they were on Grantaire’s thigh, and Enjolras squeezed them. He felt the rumble of Grantaire’s voice right on his skin, “well it was fitting, don’t you think?”

And, yes. It was.

It was fitting, and true, and Grantaire was warm and soft beside him, left Enjolras with no choice but to lean up and kiss his cheek softly, uncaring of their surroundings and his own reddened cheeks.

Grantaire blushed too, though, so Enjolras considered them even.

--------------

okay so, this is some sort fo an hybrid thing? Like- i wanted this to be a multichapter, but it turned out more like a collection of one shots, some of them (maybe all, if i can) sharing this same setting. 

anyway, i hope you like this and i didn’t went off theme.

#enjoltaire #Enjoltaire Winter Week #enjoltairewinterweek #gosh im nervous #enjoltaire modern au #enjoltaire one shot #riri's writing #Feel free to point out to me any errors you may find please ❤️

[wilwywaylan]

Meet me at the Coffee Shop

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU (coffeeshop AU !), Enjolras x Grantaire, 

Present for @flynnifox for the @lesmisholidayexchange exchange on AO3. Got lots of fun out of that one :D I love coffeeshop AU and I love meet cutes !

Also on AO3

---

Enjolras dashed out of the subway exit, running up the stairs to go faster. He had been up for four hours now, rushing to get his last paper ready before the impossibly tight deadline given by his ethics professor. He'd finished it in the nick of time and delivered it, foregoing the spellcheck step to make sure he wouldn't be late. Of course, the first train of the day endured a mishap, and the next one was so crowded even he couldn't get in. He reached the university as the sun rose behind the roofs, getting his shoes drenched in the puddles on the alleys. But he managed to reach the office before the clock struck 8 AM, and could hand deliver the essay. The professor had looked like he had bitten into a very large, very bitter lemon, but hadn't made any smart remarks. Not that Enjolras would have listened anyway.

But now, he needed coffee. Large, strong, and right now. And of course, there wasn't any respectable coffee shop around the campus. Chain-owned one, as many as you want. You couldn't throw a stone without hitting three or four of them. But Enjolras would be caught dead before he got into one of these dens of inequity and bad coffee. No, he needed a good, fair trade coffee in a nice establishment. Nothing else would do.

Finally, he spotted what he was looking for. A nice little coffee shop. It was a little setback from the street, as if hiding from the common folk to reveal itself to those worthy. Enjolras didn't know if he was worthy of... coffee or anything, but he had noticed the little shop freshly painted in black. Leaves adorned the front, and he at first had believed it to be covered in ivy, but a closer inspection had revealed that they had been all carefully painted. The window was clean, and two words were painted on it : Café Victor. Sounded promising. To be fair, Enjolras would have accepted any strangely named shop as long as it could provide him with the coffee he was looking for.

A two-sided chalkboard was set near the door, with a list of all the delicacies one could get in the coffee-shop. The handwriting was pretty, very adorned, a few birds drawn here and there. But Enjolras cared little for the calligraphy, and a lot for what it promised. And the first item on the board was, of course, coffee. He glanced at his watch. It was open, had been for one hour already. Perfect.

There was a small line in front of the counter. He stepped at the end, and prepared to wait. It was cosy, at least. A large counter, a room with small tables surrounded by chairs or stools. Everything was either light wood or painted black like every hip coffee shop in town. But that one had lots of plants everywhere, on the counter, on windowsills, between the tables, so much greenery that it half-looked like a greenhouse. Every available surface on the wall had been covered with frames : drawings, paintings, photographies... Every one was busting with colours, bringing life to the otherwise drab walls.

The line was slow, and Enjolras was starting to get agitated. He could tell Combeferre that he didn't need coffee that much until his face turned blue, but he was feeling the effect of a severe lack in caffeine. He could go home and try to make some, of course, he hadn’t bought his spaceship of a coffee maker for nothing. But it would mean half an hour to get there, and he wanted coffee now. Beside, encouraging small shops was the way to go. But could he go a little faster ? He didn't know what was taking so long. But it was. The barista seemed to be professional and fast at making his drinks. But he was chatting non stop, throwing compliments and talking about everything under the sun. No wonder it was taking so long. Enjolras looked at the time on his phone, and sighed. This was going to be long.

~*~

If someone had told Grantaire that he would one day enjoy a regular job with regular hours, he would have laughed in their face. And then at their knees because he would probably have fallen on the ground laughing. But here he was, behind his counter, having gotten up at the crack of dawn, chatting amiably with people while mixing the weirdest drinks, without wanting to bite them or run away screaming. Of course, he sometimes got some weird or aggravating ones, but he let it slide. He had his favourites, his regulars, people who came to him for their coffee fix, and a bit of a chat, and he delivered. And worst of it, he was liking it.

Today was an extra-chirpy day. That's how he called the days where he got up before the alarm rang and his mind was already filled to the brim with ideas for drawings and paintings. He had even picked up guitar playing again ! It put him in a perfect mood, and also made him extra chatty. And he was working a job that allowed to have long conversations with his customers, wasn't it perfect ?

So he welcomed them, made small talk with his regulars while he was getting their favourite drinks ready, about the weather, the projects, the families, everything and anything. Some of them were happy to answer, others were still quite silent at this hour, so he kept quiet. There was a nice line in front of the counter, several customers eager for coffee and hand-made pastries. Good for business, very good. And people were sill coming in while he was working.

He was working on a caramel-flavoured coffee with some whippe cream when the door chime rang again, and he glanced at the newcomer. Blond, dressed in red, reading glasses. Not a regular, no one he'd ever seen before. The sight pleased him. The Café Victor was bringing in new customers. It made him even happier, and he welcomed the next customer in line, an old lady who had several cats. He loved talking with her, she always had very intriguing stories about the various hijinks of the ones she called her children. He started making her green tea, listening intently to her last cat story.

~*~

Enjolras counted the people in front of him, sighed once more. There were still two people in front of him. He was feeling like he'd been here for several hours already. But according to his phone, it had been only ten minutes. Ten long minutes. That felt even longer because of his damp shoes. And the line wasn't moving. Probably because the barista was too busy chatting instead of doing his work. Okay, so maybe that was a little bit mean. He was at least doing something that was the source of this delicious coffee smell. But why was it taking so long ?

He stood on his toes to get a better look. Ah. Of course the barista was talking with everyone and anyone. That's why. He cursed inwardly. Of all the coffee shops in town, he had to opt for the one where the barista just couldn't shut up. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would have gotten out of here and looked for another one. But now that he was here... Finally, finally, the next person walked to the counter to order. Enjolras didn't mean to eavesdrop, of course,  but he couldn't really help it, being so close and all,

- So, the barista all but cooed, how is the prettiest lumberjack this side of the Seine today ?

Instead of getting angry at being called "pretty" by another guy, the customer just let out a booming laugh.

- Only this side, you're not very generous today !

They started talking about sports, and Enjolras immediately tuned them out. Not that he thought that talking about sports was indicative of anything, but it was really really boring to him. He scrolled through the news again, trying to find something to occupy himself with, but nothing had happened in the last ten minutes. He was forced to look elsewhere for entertainment. The frames on the walls would do. The photographies were nice, black and white snippets of small things, and they were carefully arranged to provide a counterpoint to the coloUrs of the drawings. Pretty drawings, by the way, made by different artists, but always very soft, almost... hopeful. A bigger painting was hanging above a small stage at the end of the room, a large, abstract piece in vibrant colors scattered across the black canvas. A beautiful piece.

- Hello, Sunshine, what will it be today ?

~*~

Bahorel gave Grantaire finger-guns, grabbed his coffee and left. Grantaire just shook his head : count on him to be the only man alive to get away with doing that. He turned to his next customer, and emitted a strangled noise that sounded a bit like someone stepping on a squeaky toy. As the proud barista of a very nice coffee shop, he'd seen his fair share of beautiful persons - traditionally beautiful persons - and as a lover of arts, he knew a pretty person when he saw one.

The one standing in front of him was... oh god above, was there even a word for this kind of being ? Did they descend right from Heaven, stopping for a bit of coffee before going back to a realm of ethereal beings as beautiful as them ? Be still, my heart, he thought, trying not to stare too much. But he was starring. Oh yes, he was. The hair caught his eye first. A blond cascade of curls, bouncing and spilling around his face, barely held by a hair-tie, falling down his back almost to his hips. Hair he'd only seen in fairy tales books. As did his face. Right now, he was looking at the wall, offering Grantaire a perfect view of his profile, delicately lined by the morning light. It was so exquisite, with perfect cheekbones and a high forehead where small curls were resting.

Rosy lips, just plump enough to beg for a kiss. The nose was just a little too long, but it fit none-the-less. And in this perfect face, like jewels in a setting, eyes blue as the sky, lined with lashes made of gold. The black-rimmed glasses were a bit too hipstery for his tastes, but nothing could detract from that beautiful angel.

It was a miracle Grantaire didn't faint on the spot or ask for his hand, or any of the myriads of stupid things that crossed his mind. He cleared his throat, and said in a perfectly-normal sounding voice :

- Hello, Sunshine, what will it be today ?

~*~

Enjolras frowned at the nickname. Another one of those Casanova wannabes. Probably thought that he was a girl, with his long hair. Well, fuck him in advance. He walked to the counter, and said in his sternest voice :

- The tallest coffee you got. Black. Two sugars. Please, he added.

Being aggravated didn't mean he could forego manners. The man just nodded and set himself to work. He was moving with... a certain grace, Enjolras had to admit. Light on his feet, despite the muscular arms nicely outlined by his black shirt. And even nicer were the tattoos covering them. Cloud in pastels arose around his right wrist, climbing all the way to the elbow where they erupted in flowers in vivid colours. The left arm was covered in an intricate pattern of ivy leaves around text too small to read. Enjolras had to admire them, they were just in front of him, after all.

- That will be two minutes, Sunshine.

- Do not call me sunshine, Enjolras snapped.

If he thought he had scared the barista into behaving, he was sorely mistaken. The man's smile widened, a crescent of white on darker skin.

- Don’t you dare mock me, Enjolras growled.

- Oh, I wouldn't dare. Your eyes would stab me like shards of ice and I would promptly die on the spot.

Enjolras could feel the heat slowly climbing on his cheeks. Oh, good, now he was blushing, and he hated that. The barista probably sensed his anger, because the cheeky grin morphed into a mostly apologetic smile.

- Okay, sorry, he said. I can be an ass. But I don't mean to anger you.

Enjolras let out a huff, but he nodded. The barista grabbed a cup and a marker.

- Can I get the name ? Or will it be "Sunshine" ?

Enjolras was almost tempted to tell him off, but he really, really wanted that coffee. So he obeyed, paid, and stepped to the side to wait while the barista greeted the next customer with a wink and a large gesture.

~*~

Grantaire knew he was acting up, but the blond was looking at him, almost murderous. Probably didn't like the nickname. Oh well, Grantaire could still try to play it cool. Maybe if he made a good coffee, he would be forgiven. So he set himself to work, carefully calibrating the machine to get its best. Two minutes later exactly, he put a cup of coffee in front of the blond boy.

- Here you are !

Blondie - Enjolras - grabbed the cup, gave him only a nod, and turned to leave. Which was what Grantaire really didn't want, but what could he do beside let him go and hope that he would come back ? So he watched him leave, half-regretting that the blond was wearing only some kind of shapeless sweat pants. He probably looked awesome in normal pants... Oh well, maybe next time. A guy could always hope.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Enjolras stop outside the shop and take a sip of coffee. The cup didn't land on the window. On the contrary, he left, with what seemed like a little bounce on his step. Grantaire grinned. Another victory for the Café Victor.

~*~

Three days later, Grantaire was wiping his counter, trying to remember where he was on the stocks and how many towels he needed to buy, when the doorbell chimed. He glanced at the newcomer, and his heart gave a little beat. The sun had just decided to shine for him alone, or perhaps it was just the blond guy from last time who just stepped inside. He looked angry at something, but perhaps this time, it wasn't his fault. Yet. Blondie - Enjolras, he recalled, because of course he did - stepped to the counter, and gave his order. The same as last time, too, Grantaire could have done it without even being asked. Black coffee, with sugar,  gigantic. The guy probably ran on coffee alone. He surely had the attitude. Probably burnt so much energy during the day that he needed the boost to get through the day. Grantaire had only got one nice look at him, but he had noticed the shadows under his eyes, purple and delicate. Probably hadn’t gotten enough sleep for years.

Grantaire scrawled the name on the cup just for the fun of it, filled it to the brim, screwed the lid on and gave it to the blond. They locked eyes for a second, and Grantaire really thought he was going to die here and there. Or at least do a happy dance. Enjolras was even prettier up close. Tiny, too, if he was to judge by the counter's height. Tiny, pretty, and full of righteous fury. The bag at his shoulder was covered with badges and patches bearing slogans. An activist. Maybe even an idealist ? Exactly the person that Grantaire wasn't but loved to rile. Oh, he could get so much fun with him. But then, he would lose his patronage, and that would surely be a huge loss. So he settled for a light ribbing.

- Here you go, Sunshine. Strong and sweet, just like you.

Enjolras' face turned red again. He opened his mouth, certainly ready to bite his head off, then appeared to decide against it. He grabbed his coffee and left, to Grantaire's greatest delight. He was wearing jeans, today, very nice jeans that were clinging to his legs and... Grantaire was only human, after all, and he couldn't help it but admire what nature and probably exercise had shaped.

Enjolras stopped when he glanced at the cup, and Grantaire half-dived under the counter to giggle. It was the second time he had carefully written the name, in beautiful calligraphy. Or rather, "Angel-ras". Good to know his art wasn't getting ignored. Enjolras glared at him, even harder than the first time.

- This is not funny.

The tone was as icy as his eyes, but at least, the coffee didn't come back to him. Enjolras just left, with his precious coffee. Grantaire watched him go, chin planted in his hand. He probably wouldn't see Enjolras ever again. Too bad. But it was worth it.

~*~

Two weeks later, Enjolras found himself face to face with the Café Victor again. He'd been running to get their next flyers printed on time, and in a strange recreation of his first time here, found himself at eight in the morning in front of the coffee shop. And it was time for coffee. Warm, and good coffee. Except that this time, not only did he step into puddles, he was soaked to the bone due to the rain that kept falling since he had realized he had forgotten to wear a coat. The lights were shining behind the window, warm and welcoming through the now pouring rain. His feet had led him there while he was busy informing the others on the advance of his task. Go to a place a half-dozen times and your brain decides it's your favourite in the world. Oh well. Good, fair trade coffee was a rarity in this town, and was worth a barista flirting with him like there was no tomorrow.

He pushed the door, shivering and trying to get warm, to not avail. He was drenched to the bone, his hoodie just a rag hanging on his shoulders, his hair dripping on the floor. Luckily, there were only one other person in the coffee shop, a boy with short hair, wrapped in a scarf a mile long, currently talking at a mile an hour with the barista. Said barista was nodding along while getting the drinks ready, "hmm"ing at the right places and smiling. Not a word of flirt in sight. The guy finally grabbed a tray with several drinks piled on it and carried it to a table where a man and a woman were waving at him. The man got up to take the tray, but the woman stopped him and got up to do it herself.

Enjolras walked to the counter. The barista watched his friend for a few seconds more, then turned his attention to him. His eyes immediately widened almost comically. Enjolras would have laughed, if he wasn't trying to keep desperately warm. He was starting to feel faint, probably a lack of sugar or too many dazzling lights. The barista rushed around the corner, grabbed him by a soaked sleeve and dragged him to a stool where he almost pushed him. Enjolras had to grab the counter to keep upright. The guy with the scarf had rushed to his side, and was grabbing his wrist. Enjolras wanted to take it back, but the barista put a hand on his shoulder.

- Relax. Joly's a doctor, he knows what he's doing.

- Doctor-in-training, the guy - Joly - corrected in an automatic tone. His heart is racing, he added. You're pale. Did you eat well this morning ? Or enough ? Vitamins ? You need vitamins ! Grantaire, get him vitamins !

- What I'm gonna bring him is something else to wear.

The barista - Grantaire - left. Enjolras didn't even know he was called Grantaire. To be fair, his badge today was wearing a large smiley face and nothing else. He was half-tempted to get up and tell them all to leave him alone, he was only there for coffee, not for a complete check-up ! But it seemed like a huge effort, all of a sudden. So he let Joly check his forehead and fuss around him.

Grantaire came back a few minutes alter. He nodded at Joly's friends who had moved behind the counter, and threw something on the table in front of Enjolras.

- Here, he announced. They will probably be too big for you, but at least they're dry. And don't mind the paint drops, they just can't be taken off.

Enjolras looked at the bundle. Something green with... yes, paint drops, and something black. Clothes. Wait, why did the guy have clothes and why was he giving them to him ? He wanted to ask, but Joly all but pushed him towards the bathroom, urging him to go "before he caught his death or something". Enjolras relented.

As Grantaire has said, the clothes were big on him. Gigantic, even. The pants were more like leggings, and he had to roll them at the ankles. They were fitting, but luckily, the sweater was large and fell to his mid-thigh, like some kind of baggy dress. It was very weird, wearing someone else's clothes, but at least it was dry, and he wasn't complaining.

He finally stepped out of the bathroom, gingerly. He'd barely walked back to the table, that something dry fell on his head. Joly's friend, the beautiful lady, was holding what looked subreptitiously like a dish towel.

- Sorry, Honey, she said. That's all we have.

Enjolras muttered some thanks and started trying to dry his hair. He needed to braid it fast, or it would quickly gain too much volume and he'd look like some very long-haired sheep. It felt weird, having all those strangers being worried around him. Usually, that was Combeferre's role, and a bit Courfeyrac's too. It felt different... but quite nice.

A tray was deposited in front of him. There was a large cup of coffee on it, along a glass of orange juice and two croissants that looked very much hand-made and not defrosted.

- I haven't ordered all that, he said.

- Doctor's order, Grantaire retorted.

- Doctor in training !

- Shut up, Joly. Joly's order, he added, turning back to Enjolras. It's on the house. Let's say it's because I've been an annoying little gremlin.

- But you're a sweet gremlin, the lady added, kissing Grantaire on the head.

They left to go back behind the counter. Enjolras was grateful, he wasn't very keen on someone watching him eat. He still felt very weird about the whole situation, but he was starting to warm up, and the coffee was delicious, as was the rest. He watched people come and go as he ate, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversations.

When he was done, he brought the tray back. Grantaire was chatting with a customer, and Enjolras stayed on the side, waiting his turn. They seemed in friendly terms, but Grantaire didn't pepper his speech with endearments. Maybe  the person just didn't like it. Now that he thought about it, he didn't quite flirt with everyone that came in. Maybe it was just reserved to a few selected one. Including, sadly, himself. Finally, Grantaire let his customer go, and turned to him. Enjolras handed him the tray.

- I'll bring you the clothes back next time, he added.

- I'd say "don't fret it", but if this means I'll have the pleasure of your visit earlier, then by all means, you can even stay there and wait until yours are dry.

Enjolras was half-tempted to hit him over the head with his soaked hoodie, but that wouldn't have been very nice. The man was aggravating, but he didn't have to help him. So he just rolled his eyes, gave him a polite goodbye, and left without another word.

~*~

It had been a pleasant day so far. No bad surprises like a failing fridge, no nasty customer. Okay, just one, but Bahorel's presence at the end of the counter deterred the complainer from doing worst than drag his feet and protest  a little. He liked days like this, even with the rain tapping against the window. But a little voice was turning at the back of Grantaire's head, and it was getting hard to ignore its little song. Yes, he knew that he hadn't seen Enjolras for a few days, even as the blond has promised to bring the clothes back. He knew it, and he'd been watching intently every person coming in, hoping to see a blond mane and sky blue eyes. So far, no chance.

He was absorbed in the confection of one of Bahorel's monstrosities, a hot chocolate that contained way too much sugar and cream, when the doorbell announced a new customer. A flash of red caught his eye, and he almost dropped the cup. Only due to his nerves of steel could he catch it. He brought it to Bahorel, who had watched Enjolras come in, and turned to face him.

- And here I thought the day would drown under the rain, but it seemed that the sun has finally decided to shine upon us !

Enjolras frowned, but didn't hit him with his umbrella, instead depositing a bag on the counter. The clothes, perfectly folded. Grantaire didn't pen him as someone who would carefully fold clothes. But there was something to be said about looks and deception. He grabbed the bag, smiled at Enjolras.

- Thank you.

- I'm the one who should thank you, Enjolras said. That was really helpful.

- I couldn't let you stay in those clothes. Joly would have had my head.

- And I wanted to pay for the breakfast.

Grantaire lifted both hands to stop him before he could get his wallet out.

- No no no. I said it's on the house, and that's final.

- You can't just give someone breakfast like this, Enjolras protested.

- I can, I did, I have and I will. It was a medically-ordered breakfast.

Enjolras gave a long-suffering sigh, but seemed to resign.

- So, Grantaire asked, what will it be ? A giant coffee ?

- Yes, and...

Enjolras bit his lip. Grantaire inwardly cursed. He didn't have any right to be so adorable. Of course, due to his reaction to a bit of ribbing, he would certainly bite his head off if he read his thoughts. He started preparing his coffee, waiting for the next part. Enjolras was clearly mulling over something, and it wouldn't do any good trying to get it out of him. So he just focused on the drink.

When Grantaire put the coffee in front of him, he still hadn't spat it out. Grantaire walked to Bahorel, who was savouring his drink, wiped the counter to regain some composure. He knew Bahorel was looking at him, probably with a gigantic smile, but luckily, he didn't make any joke or anything.

- Can I ask you something ? Enjolras finally asked.

Grantaire refrained from yelling something like "HE CAN SPEAK" and fall to the ground. He threw his rag on his shoulder, walked back to him, hoping to look professional.

- I...

Enjolras cleared his throat, started again.

- I'm part of a club, we.... do social activism sometimes.

Grantaire could have guessed so, just judging by the pins and also Enjolras' expression that seemed to want to fight the whole world at once. Another bleeding-heart hero. He nodded.

- I was wondering if maybe, it was okay to put a poster for it and our next meeting, maybe not directly on the window but somewhere ? I also have a stack of flyers, but I don't know if...

He was suddenly looking very nervous, far from the assured man he'd seen until then. Grantaire hold out his hand.

- Show me that poster.

Enjolras gave him a look of hope and uncertainty. He held out the rolled sheet he'd been clinging on until now. Grantaire unrolled it. It was... less worse than he'd thought. Not a "call to arms, overthrow the government, eat the rich" kind of poster, just an invitation to talk about social subjects and things like that. On the other hand, it was absolutely hideous. Whoever designed that thing certainly was no graphic student, or even dilettante. Grantaire lifted an eyebrow, that Enjolras certainly took as a disagreement. He made a move to take it back, but Grantaire held it out of this reach.

- If it's not... he started.

- It's okay, Grantaire cut him, I'll put it up. But, not that I want to be a dick, but you may want to find someone else to design your posters. Those are... well, it's a great way to catch someone's attention, but to keep it...

- We're just a student club. Well, students and workers.

- No graphic design student or something ?

Enjolras shook his head.

- If you find someone, he retorted, you can tell me.

- I will. Anything else ?

- I don't want to push it, but...

He riffled through his bag and pulled out a stack of papers.

- Can I leave you some of the flyers ?

Grantaire didn't really know what to say. He wasn't very keen on advertising a social justice club. In his eyes, it was a waste of time. Things wouldn't move just like that. But he couldn't say this, now, could he ? One, he would certainly lose a valuable customer. And two, Enjolras was looking at him without anger or annoyance for once, and he couldn't let this chance slide.

- Okay, he relented, put them near the register.

Enjolras gave him such a smile that Grantaire thought he would go blind from the sheer brightness of it. He moved to the coffee machine to give himself something to do and give his hands enough time to stop shaking. Enjolras thanked him, grabbed his drink and left. Grantaire focused on his task. He could feel Bahorel smile behind him and he didn't really need that. Just something to get his heartbeat back to normal.

Bahorel moved to grab one of the flyers, read it with attention.

- Sounds fun, he said.

- What, you plan on joining them ? I didn't see you as so concerned by social issues and the like.

- Man, I'm offended. It's not because I'm privileged that I can't find an interest in those causes.

Grantaire had to admit that he had a point. he and his big mouth, did he really need to offend everyone around him ? But Bahorel added :

- Besides, all those clubs and meetings are always a good occasion for a fight. Could be fun.

Ah. Of course.

- Then go and have fun. Break havoc and sow sedition, my friend. And don't forget to tell me if Blondie is really a total dweeb.

- Will do. See you !

With that, he was out the door with his flyer, leaving Grantaire to replay Enjolras' smile in his mind again and again.

~*~

Enjolras hesitated at the Café Victor door, hand on the handle. Bahorel, the new recruit for les Amis de l'ABC, had advised him to come there on this day, at this hour. He had refused to tell him why, just really insisted that it would be a "good time". Seeing as Bahorel had already sparked a fight with a man who insisted on spouting non-inclusive rhetoric on feminism and started two arm-wrestling contests, Enjolras wasn't sure they had the same definition of "good time".

But still, here he was, unsure of what to do. He spotted the ABC poster on the window, and it made him smile a little to see that Grantaire had held his promise. There was another one, smaller, just beside it. "Open mic night", it said. So that was what Bahorel had meant. But why send him here ? There was only one way to know, after all. So he pushed the door.

The tables around the counter were empty, as was Grantaire's space behind it. But there were lights shining on the left part of the room, and soft music playing coming from there. Enjolras stepped forward. The lights were shining on the small stage. And on the stage, sitting on a stool, was Grantaire. An old guitar was resting on his knee, and he was pinching the strings delicately. There was a microphone on a base in front of him, but he was just moving his fingers on the neck, coaxing the notes in arpeggio. It was quite pretty, even a little soothing, and Enjolras leaned on the wall to better listen.

And then Grantaire bent a little forward, closer to the microphone, and started singing.

Quand le jour sera levé Quand nos draps seront lavés Quand les oiseaux envolés Des rues où l'on s'est aimés Il ne restera rien de nous.

Enjolras could only stare, mouth hanging open. In a million years, he would have expected Grantarie to have such a nice voice. His talking voice was low, almost rumbling, always a bit biting, but now... now it was husky, raspy, and so melodic. Carrying each note perfectly.

Quand nos îles seront noyées Quand nos ailes seront broyées Quand la clé sera rouillée Du trésor qu'ils ont fouillé Il ne restera rien de nous.

He looked so peaceful, bent over his instruments, eyes closed to better enjoy his music. Everything hit Enjolras at once, the small curls escaping his beanie, moving along with the rhythm, the muscles on his arms moving under the tattoed skin, the small smile tugging on his lips, almost tender, the colourful drawings on the guitar, and the fingers, thin and bony, caressing the strings so gently, coaxing to better make them sing...

Laisse moi, un peu de toi Une ride, avant le vide Un extrait de tes traits Laisse moi, un peu de toi

The last notes flew away, fading into silence. And suddenly, there was a bunch of applause. Enjolras blinked once, twice. He hadn't even noticed that there were people sitting on the tables, watching the show. To be fair, the room was dark, but he had zeroed on Grantaire, totally ignoring everything else.

Grantaire tuned the guitar a little, then started another song. Enjolras didn't know what he should do, run or listen, but Grantaire's voice pinned him in place.

Take my hand, take my whole life too 'Cause I can't help falling in love with you.

He was singing again, and Enjolras was feeling weird again. He could only focus on Grantaire's voice, Grantaire's hands, Grantaire's head marking the beat. His cheeks were burning, and something in his chest was feeling very heavy. Probably a fever, maybe something worse ? He'd been through the rain without anything, and now he had caught something just like this ? This wasn't normal. He should go home and get some rest. And still, he didn't move an inch.

Grantaire suddenly opened his eyes, and looked past the stage, past the people in the audience, directly at Enjolras. He looked surprised to see him there, but to his credit, didn't miss a note. He kept looking at him as he finished the song, the green of his eyes way too bright under the spotlights. It was too much for Enjolras. He turned tail and ran out of the coffee shop, almost breaking the door in his hast to get out. The cold air outside helped him calm down, but he still ran all the way to the subway, trying to leave the strange feeling that had overcome him behind.

~*~

Grantaire had felt quite moody those last few days. It made a striking contrast with how he'd been feeling before, and he didn't like one inch. His inspiration had gone through the window, leaving him with only one thing to draw again and again. And of course, it had to be Enjolras' face. He'd already filled a whole sketchbook with it, portraits, full-length drawings, sketches, paintings, pencil, crayons, markers... A world of Enjy that he couldn't look at any more, and couldn't bear to stop adding to. It was hell.

He knew perfectly while he was in this slump, and since when. And he really, really didn't understand what had gotten into him. Had Enjolras been offended by his song ? He looked pretty affected, or so Grantaire thought, but he didn't think it would insult him. He didn't even pick the song because of him, because he didn't even know that he would be there. It just was one of his favourites. And before he could talk to him, before he even recovered from the shock of seeing him, Enjolras had left, and hadn't come back since. Grantare was tempted to ask Bahorel about his whereabouts, but it wouldn't do. He was also tempted to rip the poster off the window, but that also wouldn't do. And would be a bit too low for him.

He'd grabbed one of the flyers and was doodling on the back - another Enjy, how strange ! - when the door opened. His heart did a little leap when he recognized the red hoodie. He straightened a little, trying to remember when he'd washed his hair. Enjolras didn't look at him, kept his eyes on the counter. The counter where his drawing was currently resting, visible to anyone. Grantaire grabbed it, but it was too late. Oh, perfect. It was just getting better and better, now, was it ? Enjolras was playing with the strap of his bag, and Grantaire stopped himself from thinking it was cute.

- Hi, he said in his most corporate tone, what will it be today ?

Enjolras' head shot up, but he lowered it as fast.

- The usual, please, he answered.

- That will be two minutes.

Grantaire set himself to work, focusing on each step of the way as not to think of Enjolras' closeness, and the way he was looking at him. Or not. Not that he did care, after all. he was bringing the cup - without any name - to the counter, when Enjolras suddenly asked :

- Were you drawing me ?

- Not at all, Grantaire hurriedly answered. I was...

- It's really beautiful.

Grantaire's brain promptly went into overload. He opened his mouth, closed it again. Luckily, Enjolras didn't look up, or he would have taken to the hills at the sight.

- It's just... he tried. You know. A test. Practice.

- I still think it's beautiful.

Grantaire had to bit his lip to refrain from doing something stupid. Since Enjolras had come in, he'd felt caught in some kind of Twilight-zone-esque situation, where everything was weird and distorted and not happening like it had to. Normally, when faced with someone flirting with them and drawing their faces, people tended to run away and not look back. But Enjolras was still there, looking at the drawing - at his own face. It was not normal. A pretty man like Enjolras shouldn't act like someone like Grantaire being somewhat of a creep was something acceptable. Even he knew that. Enjolras could get anyone he wanted, why would he show even the slightest tolerance for Grantaire's antics ?

And still, he didn't move. Not for a lack of coffee, he was holding the cup. And still watching the drawing. On a whim, Grantaire handed it to him.

- Do you want it ?

Enjolras finally looked at him. He was even prettier right now. Maybe because Grantaire thought he didn't want to come back ever again, and here he was, in front of him. It was unheard of. it was mystery, some kind of magic at work. He was dreaming. And since he was in a dream, he could do anything he wanted, right ? Without consequences. Like leaning on the counter to be closer from Enjolras, and ask him something wild, like if he wanted to go on a date with him.

Exactly what he was doing. He could hear the words as they left his lips, unable to stop them.

- Do you want to go to the market with me ? The Christmas one ?

Enjolras frowned, and Grantaire immediatly knew that he messed up. Of course Enjolras didn't want to go anywhere with him, he didn't want to be seen with him, of course not. People like Grantaire could only admire people like him from the side, but never step into the light. He had overstepped, greatly, and he was going to regret it.

- A market ? Enjolras asked. Do you really think it's a way to celebrate Christmas, just buy and buy ?

Grantaire needed a few seconds to get his mind back. When he did, everything that Enjolras said hit him in the face.

- No ! No, I don't mean... going to the mall, I mean... you know, the Christmas market, with all the stalls and lots of delicacies and good smells and...

Oh right, now he was babbling like an idiot.

- I mean, he corrected himself, people there sell things, yes, but it's mostly crafts, hand-made things, that kind of things. We should encourage artists and the like instead of of turning to malls and the like. You... don't think so ?

Enjolras mulled over it for a few seconds, during which Grantaire's life flashed before his eyes.

- I guess you're right.

Grantaire was happy to hear it, but that was not an acceptation, not really.

- So ? he pressed as gently as he could. What do you think ?

A new silence, a bit longer.

- Okay, Enjolras finally said.

- Great. I'll meat you near the waffle stand at seven, what do you think ?

Enjolras nodded, grabbed his coffee and left. Grantaire grabbed a broom to keep his mind busy, and started sweeping a floor already perfectly clean. A date ! He had a date with Enjolras ! And Enjolras agreed to it ! His heart felt like it had grew at least five sizes, and soon, his feet wouldn't touch the ground any more. He just couldn't wait. Just a few more hours. Just a few.

~*~

Enjolras arrived at the christmas market at 6:54 very precisely. He'd always liked being on time. Grantaire was already there, standing near a small house-shaped shack with fake snow on the roof, that smelled extremely sugary. He wasn't wearing his apron, of course he wasn't, but a leather jacket on a nice sweater. He still had his beanie on, but his curls had been combed. He looked very much like the person who didn't want to look like they were waiting for someone.

Enjolras stepped forwards. Grantaire saw him, and his entire face lit up. Enjolras smiled back. They stayed like that for a few awkward seconds, trying to find something to say that wouldn't sound too cheesy or stupid.

- Thank you for coming, Grantaire finally said. it's cool you could make it.

- I promised I would, didn't I ?

- Technically, you didn't promise, you just accepted.

- Do you really want me there, or are you trying to convince me ?

Grantaire looked taken aback for a second, and Enjolras quickly waved his hands around.

- No, sorry, he amended, this is not what I mean. I just... Okay. Let's start again, shall we ?

- Okay, Grantaire nodded. I'm, like, super happy you could come, I could even do a little dance.

- Please don't.

- Hey, I'll have you know that I'm an excellent dancer, and I'll prove it. But for now, how about we get to the visit ?

- Nice idea. I've... never been to a christmas market, Enjolras confessed.

- Then you're in the right hands, because I'm the perfect guide.

He made a gesture to get closer, then seemed to decide against it, and instead showed hi the market. Enjolras passed the small gate made of an ornate wood panel, and Grantaire followed suit.

The market wasn't very big, maybe two dozens shacks like the waffle one, arranged around a circular alley, around a very large christmas tree. Enjolra shad alwayw been against the tradition of wasting so much money on a day that didn't have any meaning anymore besides being an ode to consumerism, and so had never visited anything that ressembled this. The little houses were each lit in gold, presenting trinkets or food and drinks, beckoning people closer and praising their merchandises. All kind of people were striding through and pressing near the shacks, talking and laughing. There were shiny things everywhere, and lights, and sounds, and music, and people. He didn't even know where to look. Everything was starting to mix together, sights and sounds together.

- Hey, you alright ?

Grantaire's arm grabbed his, very gently, brought him a little closer. Enjolras breathed a little better. Not that he wanted to recognize it, but crowds could easily make him uneasy and uncomfortable ; standing above them  on a stage was very different than walking through them, and it could swamp him easily. But it felt less overwhelming with someone at his side. Grantaire started to walk through the shacks, one by one, taking all his time, commenting everything he was seeing, navigating them with ease through the crowd, avoiding people or spots too loud or rowdy. The feeling of oppression receeded, and Enjolras was able to admire the hand-made lamps, shelves and jewelry without panicking. It felt weird, being held so close to someone like this, but it kept the panic at bay, and that was good. Also, Grantaire was polite and charming with anyone, and his running commentary was funny. And he smelled like pine and something else that he couldn't identify but was nice none-the-less. And he found out that he liked it a lot.

~*~

Grantaire was over the Moon. Scratch that, over Mars, Jupiter, Saturn even. He was currently walking through the most romantic place in town at this time of the year, holding close to the cutest boy in town, and said cutest boy did it willingly ! He could have died right now and not regret a thing. Okay, maybe a few, but the idea was there. Enjolras was almost hanging off his arm, and he had to slow down as to not drag him along.

He had feared for Enjolras, and for the date, when he'd seen his face pale and he almost ran away, and he'd try to make him feel better. It had worked, because Enjolras was now way chipper, and was going  with him from shack to shack, admiring every little thing. It was very cute to see him so amazed by everything, and Grantaire's heart was beating so hard he was sure everyone could hear him over the christmas music.

They were slowly circling around the market, and soon they'd have seen everything. Grantaire wasn't sure Enjolras would be up for a second turn, even if he seemed to enjoy himself. But he didn't want the date to end. He'd want it to stay forever, but that wouldn't be an option, he knew it. But maybe a little longer....

He dragged Enjolras towards the christmas tree. There was a tiny house, barely the size of a cupboard, that served hot chocolate and christmas cookies. He went to the counter to order two. He had to let go of Enjolras' arm to do that, and he was ready to see him bolt, but no, Enjolras just waited for him. Grantaire handed him the chocolate and the cookies.

- Be careful, he said. They are addictive.

Enjolras shot him a look, but he ate it anyway. Judging by his expression, he quickly had to amend his opinion.

- Those are delicious !

- Right ? I mean, they are mostly a piece of butter in cookie form, but they are delicious. Here, dunk one in your chocolate.

Enjolras did so, and swallowed the cookie. He smiled, the same luminous smile that sent butterflies in Grantaire's stomach.

- Thank you, he said. This... is very nice. Thank you for the date.

- Thank you for coming.

As he said that, something white and fluffy passed in front of his eyes. Then a second, then many more. He looked up. Was it... snowing ? Yes. Yes, it was. They were having a date under a gigantic christmas tree, and it was snowing. He looked down at the exact moment when a snowflake landed on Enjolras' nose, making him a little crosseyed. It was adorable and Grantaire couldn't help to laugh a little. Enjolras didn't look offended by the outburst, he just wiped his nose, wrinkling it a little. If he was going to keep being this cute, Grantaire was going to need some medical help quickly.

The snow was getting thicker, adding small spots of white on Enjolras' hair. He was even beautiful like that, like wearing a crown shining like stars. Grantaire still wasn't totally sure he wasn't dreaming. Even at his most romantic and idealistic, he hadn't pictured anything like this : him, almost hand in hand with an adorable boy, under the snow, at christmas. It was the best present ever. And said boy was looking at him, like he was happy to be with him. Without thinking, he held out his hand.

- Care to dance ? With me ?

Enjolras looked confused for a second. The only music playing was a traditionnal christmas song, not really dancing music. or maybe he was just pondering if it was a good idea or not. After a few tensed seconds, he gingerly took Grantaire's hand, and put his free hand on his shoulder. Grantaire almost didn't dare to put his on Enjolras' waist. It seemed almost... profane. But nothing burst into flames when he did, Enjolras just moved a little.

They started moving, slowly, under the long branchs covered with tinsel. Enjolras was quite grateful, and luckily, Grantaire didn't step on his feet. It was magical, holding him close like this, dancing with him in the snow.

- I told you I was the best dancer, Grantaire said to break the spell.

- I will need more proof.

Grantaire made him spin, getting a squeak out of him. He caught him back, hand back on his waist.

- See ?

- Okay. I'll admit it.

- Thank you.

They fell back into silence, looking at each other. Grantaire couldn't look away from those blue eyes, and Enjolras wasn't either.

- Enjolras, Grantaire muttered.

- What ?

- I'd really like to kiss you.

Enjolras just blinked, and Grantaire suddenly realized what he'd say.

- Fuck, I mean, I don't want to... No, please, ignore everything I said. I shouldn't ask for this like this, and it's not... It's not because we're... Sorry, I'm messing everything up.

There was a squeeze on his hand, and Enjolras stepped a little closer.

- You want to ?

- Yes, but...

- I think... I think I'd like it too.

What ? Did he hear clearly ? He could recognize the song playing over their heads, so he hadn't suddenly lost his hearing. But that couldn't be right. And still, Enjolras was looking at him, almost... expectantly.

Grantaire bent down, very slowly, leaving Enjolras all the time in the world to run away if he wanted. But he didn't. The kiss was light, almost chaste, and very short. Grantaire didn't want to run his luck, and he straightened up almost immediatly. Enjolras had closed his eyes, and he didn't open them right away. When he finally did, there was a hint of red on his cheeks, and his smile was... shy.

Grantaire bent down to lean his forehead against Enjolras'. He wanted to stay like this, but Enjolras sneezed once, twice, almost headbutting him in the process. Grantaire couldn't help but laugh.

- Talk about a mood swing, he managed to say.

- Sorry. That was a nice kiss. I didn't want to spoil the moment.

- Don't worry. We should get you somewhere warm before I only get an ice cube to kiss.

He grabbed Enjolras by the arm again, gently led him out of the market.

- What do you think of stopping by at my place ? I have those christmas cookies, and I can make you the coffee you like.

That was pushing his luck, he'd already used a lot of it this evening. But Enjolras just stepped a little closer.

- That would be great. Especially the cookie part.

-They were right, the way of the heart is really through the stomach.

Enjolras gave him a nudge that didn't really do anything. Grantaire just laughed. Once again, he offered his arm to Enjolras, who slid his own through it, and together, they started to walk back to his place under the snow.

---

Songs are “Que restera-t-il de nous ?” by Gauvain Sers and “(Can’t help) falling in love with you” by Elvis Presley.

#les miserables #enjolras #grantaire #lesmisholidayexchange #bahorel #joly #bossuet #musichetta #so much sweetness #this is so self indulgent #like a hallmark movie #featuring our two favourite dorks

[thelawsofdaylight]

👀👀💕

Quick context for this one: basically earlier in the year the activist group I’m a part of staged an occupation of one of our uni buildings and it was a very intense time and I wrote this fic afterwards to process it. I would never be able to post it as it currently exists because there’s so much self-projection going on but I still like the concept so the plan is to do some heavy editing + reworking at some point in the future and make it further removed from the actual experiences that inspired it so I feel more comfortable posting it. (I don’t feel weird about posting this excerpt because a) I feel like it works pretty well on it’s own, b) it’s very lighthearted, and c) the one thing we never got to do in our occupation was play twister, so now Les Amis get to instead.)

The game of Twister had been Combeferre’s idea, surprisingly. He’d dumped the dusty looking box down on the table one day when tensions were getting particularly high and all but demanded everyone’s participation. Grantaire had had his doubts but now, twisted like a bent paperclip as he tries to keep his limbs on the correct colours, he has to admit that Combeferre might have been right: far from worrying about their dwindling food supply or security breathing down their necks, he now has an entirely different set of problems. Like- "Left foot blue!" Bahorel shouts.

"Betrayal!" Grantaire cries, “Bahorel, how could you? I thought we were friends, yet all this time you’ve been conspiring against me, plotting my downfall, wishing me ill. You brute, you have doomed me!”

"Give up then," says Joly, who has his leg practically hooked around Grantaire's in an attempt to keep it on the yellow circle.

Grantaire grunts. “I shan’t! Did Hercules give up when Hera was set against him? Did Perseus freeze when confronted with Medusa? Did-” “Grantaire,” interrupts Joly, voice strained from the effort of keeping himself bent in what should be an impossible position. “Move now, or I will push you.” Grantaire considers his options, then- "If I fall I'm taking you with me," he mutters, directing his words at Enjolras, who he can't even see due to the fact that Enjolras is quite literally bent over Grantaire's body in his efforts to keep all of his limbs on the correct colours.

"You can try," says Enjolras ominously, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from their friends.

Courfeyrac, the bastard, only has two feet on the board, and thus is able to stay standing whilst Grantaire, Joly, and Enjolras remain in a pretzel like formation, close to falling. The rest of their group have already had to forfeit, and Grantaire will be damned if he gives up this close to victory.

"Right," he says, bracing himself. Moving his leg to the blue circle will require first untangling himself from Joly and then leaning over Enjolras. Which is fine. He can handle it, really. "Right," Grantaire says again.

Joly curses him out as Grantaire extracts his leg from where it rests on a red circle, swaying dangerously and grabbing Enjolras' side in support. Enjolras squeaks in indignation as they both wobble. "Joly!" he cries, toppling dangerously before he manages to stabilise himself. 

With effort, Grantaire manages to get his leg over Enjolras' and place it on the blue circle closest to him. "Victory!” he yells, earning a chuckle from Bahorel.

It's Courfeyrac's go next, and everyone yells out in objection when he only has to move one of his feet to the next colour along.

"Cheating!" exclaims Joly. "I don't know how he’s doing it, but he's cheating!"

Courfeyrac laughs gleefully from where he stands above them all. Grantaire catches Enjolras' eye where he's practically doing a backwards crab over Grantaire's body (seriously, how is he so flexible) and they both grin, unable to stop.

On Grantaire's next turn he gets right hand yellow and has to call it quits. "I'm out! I am out! If God does exist then He is looking down on me and laughing, for there is no possible way that my body can bend like that. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your sympathy. I’m afraid I must give up." Extricating himself from their human knot is hard, but he manages it. Courfeyrac, still on two feet, gives him a high-five when he passes.

The game continues longer than Grantaire would've thought possible with only three players. Courfeyrac eventually has to put his hands on the board (a collective cheer goes up) and ends up taking both himself and Enjolras out when he has to reach over to put his hand on red. Joly is quickly pronounced the winner and is immediately hoisted up onto Bahorel's shoulders as everyone begins to chant his name.

Grantaire can't help but smile at the scene. In this moment he's inextricably grateful for his friends, his life, even this damn occupation.

Beside him, Enjolras smiles.

#thank you! #dayneslegacy #i think this is going to be one of those fics that exists in two versions #i will keep the unedited one for myself and reuse the concept and different bits and pieces for ao3 #writing tag #my writing #also in case it isn't obvious. i did not study a twister board when writing this i just chose random colours #so i have no idea if these positions are even physically possible or not

[tired-enjolras]

Capable of Being Terrible. Enjolras/Grantaire.

Read on AO3

NEXT CHAPTER HERE

Warnings: alcoholism, smoking, addiction/recovery arc.

Genre: Angst-Hurt/Comfort.

Words: 1297.

Summary: It’s a hard semester for everyone, Combeferre and Joly are working an internship, Éponine works two jobs and somehow gets it all done, and Grantaire drinks himself an inch from incoherent every night. Enjolras doesn’t have it worse than anyone - better than most, actually. But this year keeps knocking Enjolras down and, for the first time, cannot figure how to get back up again.

CHAPTER ONE.

It was Friday night. Every other student in the city was off doing something fun and frivolous. Enjolras was not. He was not one for fun until work was complete. The blonde man could laugh louder and harder than all of his friends and co-workers combined, but he’d simply have to party on Saturday instead. He was only days out from the start of exams week. Desires could wait. His computer was open on the bed, resting on a red pillowcase and gray sheets. It was playing a documentary film about the Paris Climate Accords that was required for a biology class - his lowest grade this semester was this class. He cared about science and certainly about climate change, but he was just fundamentally bad at the subject. There were others who could handle it. Enjolras could be the change in other areas.

Enjolras did not focus on the monitor, but instead his hand scrawled ferociously in a yellow spiral-bound notebook. One could hardly blame him for his excitement. Not only had he prepared a new pamphlet for his student political organization - which he would need to remember to copy at the library the next day - but he had discovered this American politician called Harvey Milk. He was working on final stage research and outlining for a research project on him for his World LGBT Advocacy class. That remained one of about two classes that were worth him expending a fuck on during this particular semester.

The number of credits he had chosen was much too high. 7 classes (one having a lab) was an irrational choice. It was Enjolras’ first year funding half of his own housing off-campus. He worked a real job. As real as scanning books and accepting payment could be. This, really, was the first year Enjolras had learned that everyone was correct in telling him that he was incapable of doing everything he assumed he could.

He did not live alone, but it felt like he did. The other half of the rent was supposed to be paid by Combeferre, who had been gracious and helpful and always so willing to do his part. Until he wasn’t and moved out. Combeferre had moved in with a very tall and very stupid man that Enjolras sincerely enjoyed named Courfeyrac. The two men cared terribly for each other, so Enjolras was happy to see them be able to make a sort of home together. Combeferre’s replacement was not gracious or helpful and almost never willing to do his part. René Grantaire had crashed into the apartment like a car fire. Enjolras was decently sure he would not enjoy his time with Grantaire whatsoever; that they would be professional and nothing more to each other. That never happened. Initially, he was very pleased that Grantaire never imposed an organizational system for Enjolras because everything he had sat in stacks, falling off of shelves and spread across each open surface. Grantaire picked up on this philosophy and effortless operated within it. For a while, they seemed to make perfect sense to each other.

In mornings, Grantaire would get coffee brewing, immediately being able to remember how Enjolras took it. In exchange, Enjolras would sit in destroyed stack of leaflet rough drafts and crack an egg and a shot of hot sauce into a glass for Grantaire. They moved in perfect sync like Aristophanes four-limbed love people. Before too long, they stopped being roommates and started being bedmates. Their relationship lacked definition, but both miraculously kept their affections exclusive and they liked this way.

Then Grantaire’s drinking, once consisting of some wine, a few beers and maybe one or two of something a little stiffer over the course of an entire week turned into several bottles of wine, a case of beer and empty liquor bottles collecting in the trashbagless bin in front of the kitchen sink. So Enjolras tried to take some actions.

The bedroom door swung open.

“Good evening, mon Ange,” Grantaire often called him this. My Angel. Grantaire thought was funny because he may as well have been saying Mon Enj. My Enjolras. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...”

Grantaire stood, leading against the doorframe. Whether for physical support or confident swagger was still unclear. He looked bad. Enjolras felt sick to his stomach to consider saying that about this person he cared for, Grantaire could never really look bad to him, but he was glassy eyed and sallow. Grantaire pushed himself off of the door, and walked to the side of the bed, crouching to his knees to throw an arm around Enjolras flat to the bed body.

“You smell like alcohol.” Enjolras stared plainly.

Grantaire scoffed. “Good nose you’ve got there,” he reached out and gently flicked Enjolras across the nose. “I was, in fact, drinking.”

Enjolras sighed, refusing to look over at his... whatever they were. If he looked at him now, he would get emotional. Hysterical or angry, it wasn’t yet clear which. “We talked about this.”

“I know, but look at me—“

“Hey, how much did you drink?”

“Oh, am I being cross-examined now?”

Enjolras sat up on his knees in bed, Grantaire’s arm sliding away. He was looking at the darker haired man now. His blue-green eyes burned. “No, but I can call a witness, if you’d like...” he extended his fingers to the other side of the bed for his phone. Marius would know. Éponine perhaps was there. Bahoral, or Courf, maybe. Wouldn’t take too many calls to figure it out.

“Lord God Almighty, Enj... Fine. A lot. Lost count after a couple rounds. But it’s Friday. I’m...” Grantaire cleared his throat, trying to sober his voice up some. “I’m not working tomorrow. Big deal. Don’t you ever get tired of talking about ol’ me?”

“Friday’s fantastic, but what about every other day that isn’t Friday?”

“It’s social. I’m social.”

“Grantaire.”

Fuck. “Mhmm?”

Enjolras’ jaw was tight. He was not going to yell. It was after midnight and the neighbors would call their pig of a landlord again. “Couch tonight.”

“It’s Friday!”

“René,” Enjolras had said this in the voice that mothers use when their child doesn’t understand why they can’t keep sticking their hand in the cookie jar. It was not mean, it was firm. Final. Grantaire sat up a little straighter. “Couch. Please. I love you to pieces, but this is getting fucking ridiculous. Sleep it off.”

Slowly, Grantaire raised himself to his full height. “You win. You always win. Happy?” He braced an arm on the bed and leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of Enjoras’ curls. The brunette swiped a discarded blanket off of this ugly leopard print chair that sat in the corner. Grantaire walked through the door, not bothering with a change of clothes for bed and shut it quietly behind him.

Enjolras was far from happy. It had been so truly okay and it’s not anymore. Everything was too much. Homework, organizing that protest, holding the pieces together for Grantaire when there’s clearly more going on than what he wants to share. Grantaire was Enjolras’ most important person and he was going to watch him finish his degree if it killed them both. Dear Reader, do not think for a second that Enjolras believed Grantaire was some kind of burden. He wasn’t. Enjolras loved him too much to ever consider him to be one, he just was unsure of how best to be supportive. No one ever supported Grantaire so Enjolras would simply have to be that person. There were too many things to care about in Enjolras’ life, too many problems. But that had historically been where he thrived. And Enjolras would find the time to fix them all. He always did.

#enjoltaire #enjoltaire fic #enjoltaire fanfiction #enjolras x grantaire #exr #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #courfeyrac #courferre #eponine #cosette #marius pontmercy #gavroche #joly #bahorel #bosset #jehan prouvaire #jean valjean #victor hugo #fanfic #fanfiction

[meta-squash]

Various fic ideas/unfinished fics from different fandoms that I’m writing here to look back at and see if anything is actually interesting or viable. (If anyone has any opinions or wants to see any of these actually written, let me know, I welcome criticism/ideas/whatever.)

Les Miserables: -Enjolras is a small independent pop music artist who uses his catchy music to get a more political message across in his lyrics. Les Amis are his road crew/backup dancers/etc. Patron Minette are the opening band on his tour. Enjolras and Grantaire sleep together casually but aren’t in a relationship; R spends more time pissing Enjolras off. Grantaire’s a backup dancer so he genuinely thinks Enjolras only sleeps with him for his body. It’s the middle of the tour so people are starting to hit a wall and some sort of drama happens. (I’ve written a few small bits of dialogue for this one. It was inspired by seeing Dorian Electra live in Seattle a year ago.)

-Grantaire and Combeferre are the “home base” people for a big protest event. While watching the news/livestreams and waiting in case shit goes sideways, they start to get to know each other. After the protest, they continue to hang out and go to museums and things. R is in a terrible mental place and is just falling apart; Combeferre genuinely likes him and thinks he’s really smart. R basically misunderstands and yells at him that he’s not a charity case; eventually the conflict is solved and R starts to understand Combeferre genuinely wants him to be in his life. (I’ve written 2 scenes for this one)

-Canon-era fic where Grantaire survives because he was so drunk not even the silence woke him up and he looked like a dead man slumped where he was covered in glass and blood etc. Soldiers carry his body and line him up with the others; he wakes up between Eponine’s body and Jehan’s and manages to stumble down an alley when no one’s looking. No one comes after him so he just continues to exist but he’s got survivor’s guilt and he’s changed. He knows Marius also survived but sees no point in contacting him. Basically just a oneshot of him not knowing what to do with himself. (I’ve written little bits of scenes for this one)

-Bossuet thinking his crush on Joly is unrequited and that Joly only has eyes for Musichetta. Jehan pointing out that the three of them do everything together and Joly treats Bossuet the same way he treats Musichetta when it comes to things you would do with/for/because of your significant other. Bossuet basically just going on a mission to make Joly realize they should be in a polyamourous relationship. And then it turns out Joly kind of already assumed all three of them were dating.

-Some sort of modern AU exploring Valjean & Montparnasse as two different generations of like school to prison pipeline type systemic problems

-A gymnastics AU, where Grantaire and Enjolras are gymnasts on the same team along with many of Les Amis. Idk exactly what I’d do with this but I watch a lot of Nile Wilson’s youtube videos and his friend/fellow gymnast Ashley Watson is exactly how I’d imagine R.  OR Maybe something like Grantaire as a former gymnast whose reason for drinking is the collapse of his career after a major injury and the fact that he never had any other goals in life besides gymnastics, so he’s just kind of floundering until this rag tag group of weird radicals kind of absorb him into their group.

-A Les UX fic, although I’m sure someone’s done that already

-Something that isn’t my History Of Melancholia series, with Grantaire as someone addict to hard drugs rather than alcohol like in my series, and he and Les Amis kind of dealing with that. (I have bits and pieces of unconnected ideas for this one.)

-A modern AU fic where Enjolras and Grantaire have known each other for quite a while and Enjolras works for a nonprofit while R is a freelance graphic designer/freelance artist in general. Les Amis are Enjolras’ side project and the conflict between E and R isn’t that Grantaire doesn’t believe in anything at all and yet hangs around or anything. It’s that, since Enjolras started doing activism work in high school, Grantaire has consistently tried to get into it, started a project or started a collaboration or started to help in some way, and then either falls off the sobriety wagon, or realizes it’s futile and gives up. Basically, the conflict being that over and over again Grantaire wants to have the same confidence and belief that E and the other Amis do but over and over again his doubt overtakes him and he fails.

Shameless: -A filler fic in the months that pass between 10x10 and 10x11, where Ian and Mickey finally talk about their insecurities that caused the issues before. Ian is insecure about his mental health, about burdening Mickey with it. He's scared of fucking up because commitment is scary and he likes independence. Mickey is terrified of Ian leaving him again because of his track record. He’s got trauma about trusting words over actions because in his childhood it was always people saying things and then acting in the opposite way so he doesn’t trust words as much. Plus I want to use Ian’s broken leg as a metaphor/a way to help Ian realize that Mickey doesn’t think he’s incapable, he just genuinely wants to be there for him, either for an injury or a bipolar episode or whatever. (This would be a 2-parter, one half from Ian POV and the other from Mickey POV.)

In The Flesh: -Jem walking in on Amy and Kieren in 1.02, seeing Kieren's scars for the first time since he came back.

-The moment Kieren wakes up in the treatment centre

-A piece about Jem’s trauma and the moment she started shooting first, asking questions later

#les miserables #in the flesh #torchwood #shameless #les miserables fic #shameless fic #in the flesh fic #torchwood fic #idk if any of these are good #grantaire

[fics-in-a-bottlepost]

Here's another one that got lost in some black hole on this platform. Courferre(Combeferre/Courfeyrac, Les Mis) this time.

It's a few minutes after 6 when Combeferre drinks the first sip of his coffee and takes a look at his calender. Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of his bookshop. He quickly finishes his coffee, feeds Blaise, his cat, and changes his pjamas for some sportswear before he heads out the door with Blaise on his tail who then disappears around the next corner. Combeferre starts his daily morning run, the route isn't long and therefore barely takes him 30 minutes but he loves seeing the city wake up while he was already on his feet. He doesn't meet many people except for his neighbor Jehan Prouvaire who greets him with a big smile and a "why don't you drop by occasionally? I baked a lot these past few days and could really use someone to taste them!"

Ferre smiles at them and promises to drop by in the afternoon before he goes on.

Apart from a few people with their dogs and a few other people on their morning runs he meets nearly noone. He waves at the young man in the wheelchair who always sits in front of the house at the crack of dawn and gets a cute smile back. Wait-did he just refer to another man's smile as...cute? He tries not to think about it for now and watch out for any obstacles on his way instead.

Combeferre stops abrupt at the corner as he hears a feminine voice behind him. "Hello Courfeyrac. Don't you want to come inside? Breakfast is ready and It's still pretty cold, sweety." She isn't talking to him, obviously, but he's heard that voice before. It's the woman that drops by his bookshop at least once a week, buying a book from different topics each week. He turns around to see her talking to the young man in the wheelchair who's mostly reading in the morning but now just looking around with a book in his lap. Combeferre has seen his movements the past few weeks and months, he can barely lift his hands to turn the side of the books he's reading. He watches the curly haired lift his book a few inches. "I know Courf. One day I'll take you too the bookstore with me. When papa comes back. I can't carry you inside the store, there's no way you can get inside with that wheelchair with those steps outside. One day Courf, one day." she says and patts his head as she turns the wheelchair to roll her son inside.

Ferre spends almost all day in his garage after a quick stop at his shop for some notes and measurements. Apart from Lunch, which Jehan comes by for and takes him back to their house. Ferre loves their house and especially their food, which is vegan and always incredibly tasty. He's glad that Jehan thought of him because he'd probably forget to eat at all. They doesn't let him leave without taking a bag of different cookies and some apple-pumpkin bread. When he gets back to his house he finishes his project with a quick few screws. Then he makes a call and within 10 minutes his friend Grantaire stops with his van outside. The artist helps him carry the ramp he build into the car and unload it at the store until he's off to his boyfriend Enjolras. It fits perfectly over the stairs as he planned. He opens the shop door for a minute to stick a small card into a book he ordered for Courfeyracs mother-or probably Courfeyrac- and decides to drop it off at their house. The man himself sits outside, enjoying the warm air and the rays of sun with closed air. His eyes snap open as Combeferre stops in front of him. The taller man awkwardly pulls the book from his sling bag and holds it within Courfs reach. The brunett smiles at the sight of the book, his smile expands even more as he opens it and reveals the message.

"Dear Courf." he reads whispering "If someone would have told me they would like to visit my shop but couldn't due to their condition of health I would have done something earlier. Anyway, I adapted the entry to the bookshop to your needs and would like to invite you to drop by. Sincerely, Combeferre(the owner)" the card falls from his hands onto the book in his lap as he stares up at Combeferre with shining eyes.

"Really?", he whispers and Combeferre can only nod as the other grabs his hand and squeezes it as a thanks. He returns the gesture as the front door opens and Courf mother walks outside. She recognizes him immediately, judging by the look on her face. She tilts her head at Ferre as her son let's go off Combeferres hand and reaches out to give her the card. She reads in silent as both man stare at her, then turns to Combeferre as she lays the card down in Courf lap. "Thank you so much." she says and shakes his hand. He smiles at her and nodds politely. Courf tucks at her sleeve and makes a gesture with one hand as she let's go of the other man's hand and faces him. "I've got to work to tomorrow, Courf. I can't stay at the bookstore all day long, even if I want. Maybe overmorrow." she answers to his question. The smile on Courfs face disappears and it almost breaks Combeferres heart as he looks at him. "Uh..." he disrupts. Both mother and son turn to look at him. "I could take him with me. I gotta work between 9 and 13 and later between 14.30 and 18 o clock but he could stay as long as he wants." he suggests. Courfeyracs face lights up as his mother agrees. Heloise, as she introduces herself properly, and Combeferre arrange for him to pick up Courfeyrac at 8:30. Courf can decide for himself if he wants to go home and she will come and pick him up.

Ferre almost can't sleep that night. He's too busy thinking about whether Courfeyrac will like his shop. Hes running on 5 hours of sleep and 4 coffee when he stops by Courfs house after his morning run, a quick shower and a few slices of Jehans bread . His new friend sits in front of the door already, wearing blue jeans and a yellow sweatshirt and brightly smiling at Ferre. Heloise stands at the kitchen window next to the door and waves back at Combeferre as he waves at her and moves over to Courfeyrac wheelchair. He finds himself quiet liking the feeling of the handles as he pushes his new friend the way to his bookshop. He needs some more energy to push the wheelchair up the ramp but it's worth it, he decides as Courfeyrac beams with happiness when he looks around and can't even get his mouth closed. They spend the first hour just getting to knew each other in lack of any customers. Combeferre provides him with one of his favourite books "a brief History of Time".

Its 9.45 sharp when the doorbell rings, causing Courfeyrac to flinch in surprise. A red and a green hoodie came into Combeferres field of view through the open door of the backroom and the long hallway as Enjolras and Grantaire enter the shop. Combeferre excuses himself from Courfeyracs side to walk to the front and get the hoard of books R ordered from the cubboard behind the counter. They're mostly art books but some others too. Enjolras gasps as he sees the amount of books his boyfriend wants to purchase but runs off shortly after to look for the second book of a sequel he just started. A shriek rings out from the back where Enj just vanished, followed by a loud bang and both R and Ferre rush to the source of the sound. They find Enj sitting on the ground with a book in his hands and the old wooden latter laying next to him. He's staring at Courf sitting in the corner of the room who dropped his book when Enji first saw him. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry. " Enjolras gasps when he finds his voice again. "Uh, this is my friend..." Combeferre starts but gets cut off by Grantaire. "Courfeyrac, right?"

Mentioned man slightly smiles and nodds. Enjolras carefully reaches for his hand and squeezes it for a second, Grantaire just waves from the back and sets the ladder back to its feet. Combeferre introduces them to each other and picks up the book laying in front of the wheelchair before he pushes him towards the front of the room as Courf asks.

After Grantaire pays for all of his books and Enjolras' as well, Combeferre helps them carry the hoard to Grantaires van in front of the shop. The next few hours are calm, there's only one old lady buying a book and a college student picking a few about mathmatics up. So Courf and Ferre spend their time laying on the big couch in the backroom together and Ferre reading aloud while Courfeyrac lays half on him. They only stop once when Courfeyrac whispers "there's something at the door. I can hear it" and Ferre gets up only to come back with his tabby cat, Blaise who drops by on a regular basis as he's free to go around the city all day. They stop reading when Ferre lays back down and Blaise joins them within Courfeyracs arm reach who happily cuddles her the whole time as he and Ferre talk about different topics. Courf states he never had any friends because it was never nice being a kid that couldnt walk and even barely move and it certainly isn't better being a 22 year old who still can't walk and move just a little bit more than he could 15 years ago.

At the end of the day, Combeferre drops Courf, who he declared as his best friend by now, at his house at 18.30. From now on Combeferre joins him at work almost every day as long as he doesn't have to go to therapy and even helps him a bit, as his physical abilities seem to improve, by calculating the prizes of several books faster than Combeferre can even type them into his old register or putting new books into the shelf within his reach. The curly haired is extremely good at memorizing the names, covers, topics and prizes of almost all books of Combeferres store in a few weeks which is very useful when people come by his store to buy a book they only know the cover or the content off. It takes Combeferre exactly 12 days to accept he's fallen in love with Courf which makes him a bit stressed. When he tries to get help from his friends in their groupchat, R simply answeres "you gotta tell him." and Joly sends a "bring him to our next meeting at Jehan's when you told him". The next day he spends busy with many customers which distracts him a bit from his "problem". But of course his friend notices that he is tense and sits him down in the break. Combeferre doesn't say a word at first but as Courf keeps asking him he leaps up to his feet and throws his arms in the air. "Fine! You want to know what's wrong?" he asks exasperated. Courf nodds and tilts his head a little bit. Combeferre moves around the room and messes up his hair. Then: "I'm in love with you!"

Courf eyes widen and he takes quiet a moment before he reaches out to grab Combeferres shirt and make him stop. His friend stares at him, as he drags at his shirt to get him closer. "Stop running around." he says. "I'd like to kiss you." he continues and takes all his strength together to reach for Ferres collar and drag him down to his height. Combeferre obeys and sits back on the couch as Courf cups his jaw with one hand and pulls him closer to press his lips on Combeferres. He feels Combeferre melt into the kiss as his his hands find their way into his curls and he pulls Courf even closer.

None of them notices the ringing of the doorbell OR Enjolras standing in the doorway with R by his side who's taking a photo of them before E coughs. They withdraw and stare at the other two before Courf throws himself at Ferre again. E and R leave chuckling and with a "finally" as his boyfriend lifts Courf out of the wheelchair and onto his lap to pull him closer. "yes, finally." both Courf and Combeferre think to themselves.

#Fics from mars #Les mis #Courferre #Combeferre #Courfeyrac #mention of Enjoltaire #Courferre fic

[midasinc]

modern era eponine hcs:

-eponine uses she/they pronouns

-95% of her clothes are thrifted. her family has had to thrift clothes since forever and it really bothers her when thrifting becomes a trend. they try not to gatekeep, but one of their biggest pet peeves are people who go in and take all of the cute pieces of clothing to resell and leave nothing for the people who actually depend on thrifted clothing. a lot of les amis know that her situation with clothing is difficult, so she ends up getting a lot of hand-me-downs from them and it makes her feel happy. she's got a couple pairs of enjolras's old sweatpants, some of combeferre's old jeans (and oh my god eponine has to roll them up so far) and a bunch of jehan's sweaters

-eponine wants to be an author. they've been creative writing since they were ten and there have been several evolutions of their writing. middle school was a lot of happy endings, high school was angst and only angst, and throughout uni and her adult life, she's begun finding a style that suits her really well and her writing is very dynamic and crafted with love and anyone who reads her work can tell

-they're also really good at screenwriting. grantaire has commissioned them before to help on a project he was doing and eponine was very professional, quick, and had a flawless draft. he was incredibly impressed when he got it back

-she's trying really really hard to be a good big sister to gavroche. eponine regrets having a short temper with him when she was in high school and she's been trying to make it up with letting him stay at their apartment, buying him nice things when she can afford it, and trying to be more responsible in the future. they aren't sure how to prove that they're sorry and saying it out loud seems weird, but she's genuinely trying

-eponine is a dog walker for the dogs in their building. every day, they round up the dogs in the building and take them out on a route to a dog park. it's pretty okay money and they really enjoy the company of dogs. when gavroche is over for the weekend, eponine will take him along for the walk because he loves dogs just as much

-after rebuilding their relationship with cosette, eponine spends a lot of their time with her. cosette is a really good listener and advice giver when things are rough for eponine and eponine goes to all of her ballet company's performances and gets her flowers after every show. they get brunch every wednesday at what they've dubbed as their cafe and they just talk smack about the people they know for an hour and a half over coffee and crepes

-they have a really bad cat allergy. being around cats makes eponine so sneezy and her eyes will water until she leaves the premise. she loves all of her friends who own cats, but they will absolutely not step foot into any of those people's apartments because eponine will just be in misery the entire time

-EPONINE AND JEHAN BFF SUPREMACY. they have sleepovers all the times and eponine is one of the only people who isn't afraid of jehan's pet rats. jehan will do eponine's nails and neaten them up and they can talk about this and that and it's very therapeutic for them both. they also compete in a local baking competition every year (and they never place- BUT THIS YEAR IS A NEW YEAR!)

-they don't mind presenting femininely, but they prefer to use men's colognes and deodorants and body sprays and they always smell really nice

-eponine also wears a ton of jewlery. they don't believe in jewlery segregation. they'll wear gold necklaces and silver earrings and beaded bracelets and rubber bracelets and silver rings and whenever someone points it out, they just say "it's camp"

-eponine and courfeyrac stoner solidarity. she never keeps weed in the house though because she doesn't want azelma and gavroche to think she's "on the wrong path", so eponine only goes over to smoke with courfeyrac. it's normally just a nice way to unwind and watch the clouds in the sky move. they're gonna buy a dab pen off of courfeyrac though because sometimes they'd prefer to get high alone and the smell and everything is a lot less obvious with a pen

-all of eponine's sneakers are scuffed as hell. she wears a lot of skate shoes but she has never stepped foot on a skateboard before. eponine has 100% lied about being able to ollie when someone is like "do you even skate" but she doesn't even know what an ollie is- she just knows the word from courfeyrac

-eponine has a couch that she got bahorel to help pick up off the side of the road. it's an old 60s couch that's bright orange. at the time of finding it, the couch was gross and dirty, but they spent hours cleaning it and reupholstering it and now they have the most beautiful orange couch anyone has ever seen. it's the staple of eponine's apartment. if it ever had to get thrown out, everyone would be upset- that couch is a part of the friend group at this point

#les mis #les miserables #les mis headcanons #modern era #modern au #eponine #my love #anyway #OPs Les Mis HCs #les amis

[shitpostingfromthebarricade]

@pilferingapples brought to my attention the fact that I never made a masterlist for the submissions for this challenge back in May, so I'm remedying this egregious error now.

The prompt was, "I'm afraid you're going to have to carry me."

(This was not a competition nor judged in any way; these are simply in order of submission to the challenge.)

[[MORE]]

[[MORE]]

The Five Stages by PiecesofCait ( @thepiecesofcait )

Turns out grief isn't the only g-word that takes a bit to process.

Tell Me Why by ShitpostingFromTheBarricade ( @shitpostingfromthebarricade )

Enjolras finds a list that he was never meant to.

Warnings: language, scalding take on (and spoilers for) The Breakfast Club

Seating Arrangements by AnnaBolena ( @annabrolena )

“Enjolras has decided to take drinks with us in celebration tonight!” Bahorel’s voice booms across the room. One of his hulking arms is wrapped securely around the girl tending to him, the other is raised in victory.

“Lest Bahorel give anyone a false impression: Enjolras was persuaded with great industry to take a single cup, that is all. No need to make a spectacle of it,” Feuilly placates those already cheering, though no one's joy is truly tempered by the revelation.

a.k.a. Enjolras celebrates with his friends :)

Images in Red by OpensUp4Nobody ( @opens-up-4-nobody )

Enjolras is a grad student having a bad time.

Drink to Forget by whowillbestrongandstandwithme ( @whowillbestrongandstandwithme )

Grantaire finds Enjolras, alone and drunk, after a meeting. He takes Enjolras home and tries to prevent him from saying anything he'll regret- but then Enjolras shares a secret that he has kept even from Combeferre. Somehow this night brings them closer together. The two realize they aren't so different after all.

non-asleep things by Rhyolite ( @rhyolight )

The city wasn’t asleep. It never was, really, at any hour of the night a carriage might rumble past, or a loud and happy group of people might pass under one’s window, talking loudly, or any of other (usually loud) non-asleep things.

Enjolras was also not asleep.

Against All Odds by BookDragon6127

Enjolras is too stubborn for his own good and Grantaire is the one who needs to make sure the leader in red doesn't accidentally kill himself in the name of the revolution

The Way of Fools by temperamental_mistress

“The way of fools seems right to them, but the wise listen to advice.” (Proverbs 12:15)

Carry Your Beliefs by kjack89 (@kjack89 )

Alternatively titled, Grantaire and the parable of the toad.

But the toad did not speak, and in fact did not move, still crouched against the stone.

Grantaire gaped at the small creature, who didn’t seem at all concerned that it had somehow spoken, and he shook his head slowly. “Too much wine,” he muttered. “Joly warned me this might happen one day, but I must confess, I did not believe that a wine dream would manifest as—”

He waved a vague hand at the toad, which just stared back at him, unimpressed.

About the bothersome discrepancy between word and deed by Gr_malk_n ( @theravensgrin )

In which there is pining, painting, smoking, a lack of clear communication and headaches for everyone, but especially for Combeferre.

Oh, and they try to save a community centre.

Finally, I Understand by edgy_fluffball ( @edgy-fluffball )

After a rally gone wrong it is Grantaire who sees himself having to take on more responsibility than he ever planned having. Unfortunately, that means dealing with both Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

I am Wilderness and Waves by mariuspondmercy ( @mariuspondmercy )

Musichetta is the captain of her own ship, master of pirate crews sailing the seven seas for her own agenda - wilderness and the oceans were her home.

Join her and her lovers on a journey through the Seven Seas.

Carry Me by HMS_Chill ( @hms-chill )

The silence wakes Grantaire after the barricade has fallen, but he's not going down without a fight.

(Based on this post from @g-hostly-g on tumblr)

Theatrical Tragedy by BadassIndustries ( @badassindistress )

Courfeyrac grinned happily. His dearest friends, come together in celebration of him, getting together harmoniously and all nicely dressed, if a bit sombrely. Enjolras had even submitted to having his cravat retied and Marius at last accepted the gift of an old waistcoat. Combeferre looked as neat as ever and had not mentioned cadavers or unsightly diseases even once. To top it all off, Courfeyrac’s curls were behaving admirably and his hat had graciously consented to stay with him for a fortnight already. After the performance, those of his friends more inclined to dance were to meet him at a public ball and altogether this would make a perfect night.

like real people do by bleulily ( @eponinearchive )

“So what’s the plan?” Grantaire asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He placed a hand on Enjolras’s arm, warm and gentle against Enjolras’s skin.

Enjolras gave his phone a last glance before turning his attention to the hand Grantaire had placed against his arm. He realised Grantaire was covering him from the guides in case they turned back to see them. Enjolras smiled. “We have to pretend to be dating whenever we’re near them,” Enjolras explained. “You know, do those cheesy things Marius does whenever he has a new fancy. I don’t want to disappoint my mother or ruin your night.”

Grantaire regarded him, his head tilting to the side as an eyebrow quirked curiously, his lips turning upwards into a sly smile. “So you think Pontmercy is the model of excellence for a healthy and romantic relationship?”

Things that go bumping in the night by adorablecrab ( @adorablecrab )

The wise thing to do would be to silently lock the door and hope whoever was outside wasn’t too determined to get in. Possibly escape through the window...

Will the World Remember You if You Fall? by pirates_and_candles

Courfeyrac realizes that he loves Jehan. The only problem is that Jehan is in love with Montparnasse and there's a revolution coming...

Flowers in my lungs by decayingliberty ( @decayingliberty )

There are flowers growing in Courfeyrac's chest and he can't breathe.

For Want of a Book by WilwyWaylan ( @wilwywaylan )

Bahorel needs a book from the library. Bahorel certainly does not need to see Feuilly. Sadly, it seems that you can find way more redheads than the book you need in that library...

#I really hope that the See More works this time because this is a heckin long post #also sincerest apologies for not doing this sooner!! #next year when we do this again I'll do better #les mis #fanfic #fanfic rec #spfc #same prompt fic challenge #same-prompt fic challenge #also! I know all of these authors have tumblrs but I couldn't find all of them! #please PM me if you see your work here so I can properly credit you! #les mis fanfic

[meryton-etc]

I saw @yeats-infection do this and I was so so so bored I decided it couldn’t hurt for me to do it too I shall tag @saumenschliesel, @combeferre, @likehandlingroses and anyone else who wants to do this, please do because it’s interesting to read!

ao3 name: InfiniteCalm

fandoms: I have written for many and then deleted them! At the minute it’s mostly Downton Abbey and Leonard Finch Grantchester. If you’d told me that this time last year I’d be so confused. I think then I was in the middle of the abandoned Merlin-realises-identity-politics-wont-save-him project. And of course Tolkein will forever have ownership rights to some of my brain real estate, though I find it difficult to write for that because the stories all seem quite complete to me.

number of fics: unlucky thirteen!

fic i spent the most time on: the hellish harry potter fic that was born out of a mental breakdown that i didn’t realise was a mental breakdown at the time. see if you can tell from the plot/prose/formatting....

fic i spent the least amount of time on: Lost in Translation just came and flowed and was finished during a time when that was particularly rare. I like it though! Nimona forever.

longest fic: Let’s not talk about TSOHS anymore!!!!!!

shortest fic: Let’s see... oh, it’s Photographs! I think I was 17 when I published that! So long ago... I still think the plot of this holds up, but obviously if I wrote it today I would change a great deal. Nimona was a really great webcomic, and I read it with two of my best friends. We were on a school trip once and had to go in search of wifi to steal in order to read the penultimate page. 

most hits: i’m not talking about the real most hits!! The most hits of my Downton stories is Then Came Hallelujah Sounding, which checks out I guess, since I published so close to Christmas, which seems to be peak fanfic reading time. 

most kudos: out of the Downton fics the most kudos is You’re Knee Deep in Clover. I guess because it has Daisy and Thomas dancing, Baxter/Molesley proposal etiquette and a nice little trauma response at the end. What more could you want from a fic? 

most comment threads: Wake Up (Like This) and How the Note Lingers are tied for this one! Personally I find fic comments are the best things ever ever ever and I love them so much, and I’m glad that people responded to these stories so well in particular. The comments on How the Note Lingers were so so cool so thanks to youse for writing them :) also here I would like to stress that Wake Up (Like This) was such a joke title, it is not serious, please don’t take it seriously!!

most bookmarks: Overriding the question again! Both my Grantchester fics have one each (you know who you are <3 ). I love these scmoop-ridden cliché overwritten monstrosities so much. Thomas/Richard, despite being only 30 years apart from Leonard/Daniel, is an awful lot heavier than the latter, so it can be nice to write something where you don’t first have to work out how they get to each other’s houses. 

total word count:  59,642???!!!! 

favorite fic i wrote: choose between my babies? Or conversely, everything I’ve ever written is complete and utter garbage!! (It’s wake up like this)

fic i’d rewrite / expand on: like. at this stage, i read things and i’m like, everyone who says to edit things is clearly right! everything published is riddled with typos and sentences that make no sense because i cut out what went before it without reading over the paragraph. So in that sense, all of them! if i still liked HP i would rewrite TSOHS becuase there were some (some!!!!!) good ideas there. 

share a bit of a WIP: under the cut! I have two “real” WIPs that i will not post because I’m superstitious so have a snippet of something i most likely will not post.

He’s a nervous little thing, though. A bit soft, though she’d never put it like that out loud. Sudden noises scare him- the news- traffic- his father. Too many adults looking at him have him shrinking shyly into her side, his hand searching for hers. He’s only four, she thinks desperately, he’s young enough to grow out of this stage yet, before we have to make him. He’s made friends with the little girl next door, and some of the older children are kind enough towards him, so at least there things are OK, and he’s not suffering the lack of siblings. His cousins are far away, and all older than him, though they do dote on him. And rightly enough, too. He’s a gangly, clumsy little thing, legs long, like saplings. He runs along after the other children. He’s trying his best.

...

One of the Flynns comes running in, followed by a grinning Leonard, interrupting their conversation with questions about their tea. Leonard comes over to her, his dirty little face flushed with fresh air and exercise, and he shows her the stuff they found on their adventure- bits of dirt, mostly, but not as bad as the time they brought a live leech home to show everyone. When they get home to start preparing their own tea, he makes her laugh by trying out some of Mrs Flynn’s idiosyncratic phrases in conversation. He’s full, these days, of malapropisms. But she looks at him gazing at the newspaper, tracing the headlines and frowning at the smaller print, and thinks that before long he’ll be using those words properly. He seems so young, to be sent away to school. But there it is. 

#my fic #tag #ask me something!!!

[2wnikiangel]

Cigaretová filozofie / Smoking philosophy

Fandom: Les Misérables/Bídníci Lengt: Oneshot, 6.000+ words Ranting: T (Teen and Up Audience) Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Parning(s): one-sided Enjolaras/Grantaire, one-sided Enjolras/Combeferre, pre-Grantaire/Combeferre, background-Enjolras/Original Male Characters), implied-Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre Character(s): Enjolras, Combeferre, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly, Original Male Character(s) Tag(s): Frienship, Male friendship, One-sided Attraction, Smoking, Drinking & Talking, First Kiss, Kissing, Pre-Slash, Confusion, Daydreaming, Not Beta Read

„Je nádhernej, co?“ Combeferre sebou cukl. Podíval se na Grantaira, který se stále díval kamsi do prázdna. I tak viděl, jak se jeho oči lesknou něčím, co u něj ještě neviděl. Zmatenost? Smutek? Osamělost? Ten pohled se mu nelíbil. Až moc mu připomínal sebe. Takhle vypadal pokaždé, když se podíval do zrcadla a myslel na Enjolrase. Combeferre se najednou zasmál. Jeho nádherný, hrdelní smích se roznesl tichem. Zakroutil hlavou, odhodil kus cigarety na zem, zašlápl ji a rukou naznačil, že chce další. „Jak dlouho?“

x

“He’s beautiful, right?” Combeferre winced. He looked at Grantaire, who was still looking somewhere in the void. Even so, he could see his eyes glitter with something he hadn’t seen before. Confusion? Sadness? Loneliness? He didn’t like the look. He reminded him too much of himself. This is how he looked every time he looked in the mirror and thought of Enjolras. Combeferre suddenly laughed. His gorgeous laugh echoed through the silence. He shook his head, dropped a piece of the cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and grab another one. “How long?”

Read online on AO3 in [czech original] or [english translation]

A/N (CZ): Momentálně sice vydávám povídku “Týden v Paříži”, ale pořád jsem měla pocit, jako kdybych za únor vlastně nic nenapsala. Žralo mě to tak vytrvale, že jsem včera zasedla k počítači a napsala jsem něco, co mě napadlo asi před týdnem. Původně měla být povídka ještě o něco kratší a končit zcela jinak. Ale znáte to - autor míní... Doufám, že se vám povídka bude líbit. Za jakékoliv reakce budu vděčná! PS: Připomínám, že mám stále otevřený projekt, kde si můžete napsat o Les Mis povídku na přání. Všechny informace najdete tady [”Birthday fanfictions project”].

A/N (ENG): I’m working now on fanfic “A Week in Paris”, but it makes me feel as I didn’t actually writen anything in February. So I sat down yesterday and wrote something that I got idea a week ago. The story was little shorter and ending was differenet at first. But you know - writer think about something and fingers just doesn’t listen to it. I hope you enjoy. I’ll grateful for every reaction! PS: Little reminder that I still have an open project, where I can write a Les Mis fanfic for you. You can find all the information here [”Birthday fanfictions project”].

#les misérables #les mis #les misérables fandom #les mis fandom #les misérables fanfiction #les mis fanfic #les ámis fanfic #les ámis #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #enjoltaire #exr #enjolras/combeferre #they don't have a parning name? #how?? #bídníci #přátelé abecedy #píšu česky #trochu jiný styl než na jaký jsem zvyklá #ale autor má pořád zkoušet něco nového #no ne?