Grantaire: I think I know a way we can get the money.
Éponine: You’d make a decent stripper.
Grantaire: I’d make an AMAZING stripper, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
Grantaire: I think I know a way we can get the money.
Éponine: You’d make a decent stripper.
Grantaire: I’d make an AMAZING stripper, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
enjolras: you are a drunk cynic and I am a passionate believer. we’d be a terrible couple
grantaire: ok but have you considered the fact I am cute
enjolras: understandable, where do I sign
Being caught listening to love songs is embarrassing as it is, but being caught singing along to one was a whole different level of mortifying.
Dinner duty fell on Enjolras tonight as Grantaire sat holed up in their bedroom finishing an art piece for class. Softly, his music played from his phone, a playlist of musicals all put on shuffle as he cut up the vegetables Combeferre had been constantly harping on him to eat. The music changed and a familiar tune came on.
He hummed under his breath approvingly; Enjolras loved this song to pieces. He would gladly belt the lyrics out with Idina Menzel right now if he could.
Except he couldn’t, because there was the issue that no one, except for Combeferre and Courfeyrac who he had known since about the time he was born, knew about his secret passion for love songs, this love song in particular. Not even Grantaire knew.
See, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust his boyfriend enough to let him know about his likes and interests, his strengths and weaknesses; quite the opposite really, considering Grantaire was very supportive of who he was and he was supportive of Grantaire in return. And it wasn’t that he was trying to keep up that marble facade those who weren’t his friends knew him to have either; they all, Grantaire especially, already knew of his cuddler tendencies (or, at least cuddly with his friends- if you were a stranger and you touched him, you died, often by his own hand, often by Grantaire’s.) It was none of that.
It was just that he found it rather embarrassing that he should have such an affinity for love songs while Grantaire had what he thought was much more complex and deeper tastes in a wide variety of genres of music. If he were to hear him sing about the burning passions of love, Grantaire would likely laugh. Such behaviour was expected more from Jehan or Marius, romantics seemingly born in the wrong century.
So Enjolras contented himself to sing along quietly under his breath as he focused on slicing up the carrots in front of him.
“Kiss me too fiercely, hold me too tight. I need help believing you’re with me tonight.”
He moved onto cutting up the zucchini, lost away far too much in a world of green and music to notice the door to their room crack open.
“My wildest dreamings could not foresee lying beside you, with you wanting me.”
The music began to build up, and unconsciously, so did Enjolras’ voice.
“And just for this moment, as long as you’re mine, I’ve lost all resistance, and crossed some borderline. And if it turns out it’s over too fast, I’ll make every last moment last. As long as you’re mine.”
He hummed along to the music that led up to Fiyero’s part when his heart jumped in his throat and he nearly let out a scream of surprise. A pair of arms encircled his waist and held him tight against a warm, broad chest that Enjolras knew instinctively who it belonged to. He could feel the smile stretched out on his boyfriend’s face as Grantaire buried his face in the crook of his neck and pressed a light kiss.
“Maybe I’m brainless, maybe I’m wise, but you’ve got me seeing through different eyes,” he sang into his neck. Enjolras felt his cheeks tinge red. Oh God, what was he doing here? And now? Why at this moment? “Somehow I’ve fallen under your spell, and somehow I’m feeling, it’s up that I fell.”
In a flash, he spun him around in his arms and held him close, lacing their fingers together, so that he was facing Grantaire as the music built up and the chorus came on. Grantaire smiled at him as he started to sing again, this time with Grantaire joining him.
“Every moment, as long as you’re mine, I’ll wake up my body and make up for lost time.”
“Say there’s no future for us as a pair,” Grantaire sang as he lifted a hand to cup his cheek. Enjolras felt his blush darken.
“And though I may know, I don’t care!” they sang together.
At his boyfriend’s wide grin, Enjolras couldn’t help but mirror his expression, a bright smile breaking out on his own face as they started the chorus once more.
“Just for this moment, as long as you’re mine, come be how you want to and see how bright we shine!” They both belted, squeezing at each other’s fingers. “Borrow the moonlight, until it is through-ooh.” Grantaire picked him up and spun him in the air, Enjolras letting out an undignified shriek that dissolved into giggles as Elphaba and Fiyero both held the last note on through. “And know I’ll be here, holding you-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh.” Grantaire put him down and pulled him close as they both belted out as loud as they could the last line: “As long as you’re mine!”
From his phone, they could hear Fiyero ask Elphaba “What is it?” and hear her respond “It’s just, for the first time I feel… wicked!”
Enjolras walked over and paused his music before the next song had the opportunity to play, smiling when he felt Grantaire’s form drape around him from behind once more. “I’ll take it that means you’ve finished your painting?” he asked breathlessly. Grantaire smiled into his neck.
“I finished ages ago.” Turning, he furrowed his eyebrows as he blinked confusedly at his boyfriend. Grantaire grinned. “You never sing when you know I can hear. I like listening to you sing, so…” he trailed off when he noticed Enjolras’ cheeks colour an embarrassed red.
“You heard me singing?” he asked mortified, turning his face away.
He felt a hand on his cheek gently guide his head back to look directly into his boyfriend’s eyes.
“And loved every second of it,” Grantaire murmured before bending down to steal a quick kiss. Enjolras fisted at his shirt and pulled him back down when he tried to pull away. Grantaire chuckled and slid a hand around his waist, drawing him closer.
“What made you decide to come out now of all times, then?” he asked between kisses. Grantaire smiled against his lips.
“I couldn’t just leave you by yourself when I heard you start to sing along to the greatest love duet in all of Broadway history, now could I? Although,” he pulled away with an amused look, “you never did tell me you had a such a big thing for love songs.” He raised an eyebrow.
Enjolras flushed. “It was only one song.”
The corners of Grantaire’s lips tugged upwards. “I was listening to you the entire time you’ve been in here. Wedding Song, All I Ask of You, I’ll Cover You… it doesn’t seem like only one song.”
How would he explain this? Glancing up, he could see that Grantaire was fighting back a laugh. He knew it would be like this; but what else could he do? He clearly couldn’t lie now that his secret was so openly exposed.
Wringing his hands, he mumbled, “Okay so maybe I do have a thing for love songs.” He sighed an ran a hand through his curls. “I know, it’s silly. They’re all cheesy and hopelessly romantic and-mmh!”
He was cut off by a gentle kiss to his lips. “It’s not silly,” Grantaire said firmly when he pulled back.
“But your tastes are so much more thoughtful and complex and-mmh!”
“My tastes have nothing to do with yours. If you enjoy listening to love songs, that’s your deal. And just because something’s labeled a ‘love song’ doesn’t automatically make it stupid to listen to. I thought you would be the one telling me that.”
“Well, yes, but see, I- mmh!”
“And,” Grantaire murmured against his ear, “I think it’s cute. And I would love to sing more of these duets with you. Maybe if you would just let me listen to you sing…”
Enjolras glared at him. “Maybe if you would just let me finish my sentences.”
Grantaire tugged him closer and traced a thumb over his lips. “That’s a great idea. Except, I think there are better things you could do with your mouth right now.”
Enjolras bit his lip and felt his cheeks burn hotter. “Like?” he stuttered in a way that only Grantaire could make him.
Grantaire grinned devilishly. “Let me show you.” And with a firm grip on either of his hips, he lifted him up onto the table and brushed his lips over Enjolras’.
Perhaps it wasn’t too terribly embarrassing to be caught singing along to love songs.
Headcanon that Grantaire wasn’t always Like That. He used to be so full of life, so trusting, so kind. He believed in fairies. He smiled at butterflies. He danced in the rain. He loved people, always. But little by little, the world broke him down. Fairies didn’t exist. Butterflies spoiled his garden. The rain got him wet. And people? People were the biggest disappointment of all. He wasn’t born a drunken cynic. He was kind to the world, and the world took advantage of him.
So i made a kinda shiity kinda angsty poem about Enjorlas and Grantaire dying.
Broken smiles and a magic laugh
Poison desire for a ferocious god
Liquid nights lead to dark mornings
Red rain wakes the cynic
Love guides to his idol
Between the blazes linger hands
A red eternity is what remains
It was the first night Grantaire had allowed Enjolras to stay until morning. Despite their new relationship, and (most) of his guard being let down, Grantaire was still strangely overcareful never to let him spend the night until now. Enjolras was happy to wake up in his new boyfriends bed, and when he opened his eyes, yawned and made a small noise of awakening, he was looking forward to turning over to meet Grantaire’s eyes.
“Wait!” Grantaire’s voice said suddenly, putting a hand on his shoulder and preventing him from rolling over. “Stay there for a second.”
“Okay?” Enjolras said confused, but obeying the strange command as Grantaire relaxed against him, moving his hand away.“Why?”
“I have to get ready, you can’t see me before I fix my hair.”
“What?” Enjolras emitted a puzzled laugh, ignoring him and turning over to look at him. Grantaire made a panicked noise of protest as he did so and rushed to pull the blanket over his head. “I don’t care about what your hair looks like,” Enjolras assured him bemusedly.
“Mornings don’t agree with me,” Grantaire admitted defeatedly, refusing to move the blanket that was pulled tightly over him. “You’re going to run for the hills. Seriously, I look like a swamp monster. It’s embarrassing”
“Why are you embarrassed?” Enjolras asked, all humour removed from his tone as he slowly moved his hand over Grantaire’s and slowly brought the blanket down, there was a little resistance from him, but he eventually let it budge. Sighing and looking miserable as Enjolras took him in. “You’re beautiful,” Enjolras told him, his eyes sweeping over his face, when Grantaire said nothing, looking flustered and upset, Enjolras frowned. “Don’t you see that?”
“No, that’s not true” Grantaire said shaking his head. “You just have to say that ‘cause we’re dating.”
“I don’t have to say anything I don’t want to.” Enjolras replied stubbornly. If they were standing he would have crossed his arms, but instead he opened them, inviting Grantaire in. He hesitated, before turning around and shuffling into them, allowing Enjolras to spoon him and move his hair away from his neck to place a soft kiss there. “I’m going to hold you here until you admit you’re beautiful.” He warned him as he squeezed Grantaire tightly.
“Get comfortable then,” Grantaire scoffed. “You’re going to be here a while.”
“I am comfortable,” Enjolras said showering him with more kisses. “And I’ll gladly stay forever, if that what it takes.”
31 and 44 for Enjoltaire btw XD sorry wasnt specific the first time
The Morning After.
Those weren’t words Grantaire usually associated with anything good, but last night had been the exception, and what an exception it was.
There was dinner that came attached with the label of a date, and laughter, and conversations he never wanted to end, and soft looks thrown his way before those looks turned flirtatious and alluring, and Enjolras had stayed the night in his bed. The fact that he’d stayed was the most baffling and amazing part of all of this. Not once had he come to his senses and turned around and left. He was here, beside him — the remnants of his scent still lingering on Grantaire’s body. If he could keep that apart of him for the rest of his life he would.
Enjolras was looking at him through half awake eyes, his sleepiness basked in a satisfied glow as he absentmindedly played with Grantaire’s hair as though it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do.
“You make some really cute noises in your sleep,” He said as a smile began to spread on his face. Those words should not have had this much power over him and yet he found himself absolutely blown away by them. “Did you know that?”
“I’ve been told I’m quite annoying, actually,” Grantaire couldn’t help the self conscious smile that came to his face as his cheeks burned. “Can’t shut me up awake or asleep.”
“I think it’s cute,” Enjolras assured him, moving his hand from his hair and stroking his side.
Grantaire emitted an involuntary laugh at the touch and instinctively moved slightly backward, causing Enjolras to smile wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
“Are you ticklish?” He asked, sounding delighted at the possibilities.
“No, don’t! Oh my God!” Grantaire tried to protest, but Enjolras had already pulled him closer, his fingers pestering him at every soft and vulnerable place. “Stop! You’re going to make me pee myself!” He said through splintered bursts of laughter. Enjolras was laughing too, but he obliged him and moved his hands away from his body.
Despite the relief from his fit of giggles, Grantaire ached at the removal of his touch, and instinctively without restraint moved his own hands over to Enjolras’ body, who shifted, facing away from him as Grantaire pulled him in, wrapping him in tight. With him here in his arms in the aftermath of bliss, the world got a little bit brighter, and Grantaire suddenly didn’t think that mornings were so bad.
That’s so incredibly sweet, thank you so much! 🥺 🥺
Grantaire knew that moving in with Courfeyrac would mean becoming the host of the house parties, and he had been more than okay with that at the time they signed their lease agreement. But what Courfeyrac had so kindly left out of that conversation was that apparently he had given Enjolras a free pass to stay the night every time they hosted one.
Waking up after a satisfying but much too late night and being met face to face with a tired and grumpy angel was something that threw him for a loop. Especially when that angel was still groggy from a lack of sleep and offering him coffee with slice of toast in his mouth. Despite many weekends of this passing, Grantaire had still never gotten used to seeing this side of Enjolras in his house. There was no other word for it, he was adorable when he wasn’t put together, and having that knowledge was too much for him to handle.
Another night, another hangover, another morning walking into his kitchen to see Enjolras’ messy bedhead as he leaned against the counter sipping his coffee. He nodded at Grantaire sleepily, clearly prepared for his arrival he pushed the second mug towards him on the counter.
“Thank- oh!” Grantaire stopped, surprised as he really took Enjolras in, looking him up and down in surprise he blinked slowly. “Um… Why are you wearing my shirt?”
Grantaire wouldn’t mind so much if it weren’t for the fact that the sight of Enjolras wearing a faded old band tee shirt three sizes too large for him - Grantaire’s old band tee shirt was a fact his currently slow processing mind could not comprehend. Grantaire’s shirt on Enjolras’ body, those two things did not deserve to go together in a sentence, and it was breaking his brain.
“Uh -why am I wearing your shirt?” Enjolras repeated the question, he looked like he had to think about it for a moment, mornings clearly came difficultly to him. “I think it looks good on me?”
Grantaire laughed in surprise at this. “Yeah, I guess,” he replied, leaning against the cabinet door opposite him. What he actually meant was — of course it looks good on you, everything does — but he kept that to himself. “But it’s my shirt.”
“Your band from high school, right?” Enjolras, said as he sipped his coffee. “Courfeyrac was telling me you used to wear eyeliner when you sang.” Despite the mug hiding his lips, Grantaire could hear the smile behind his words as he said this.
“It was the late 2000′s, everybody had an emo phase,” Grantaire said dismissively, realizing at his words why Enjolras was standing so casually in his shirt. He hadn’t quite comprehended what he had meant when he said it was his tee shirt. “It’s not just from my band, though.” Grantaire said hesitantly. “I meant more in the literal sense. It’s mine — as in, I happen to own it and wear it every so often.”
“Oh,” Enjolras said, Grantaire watched his face as his slow morning mind took the time to process this. “Oh!” He said suddenly his eyes going wide. “Courf just said I could — it was on the laundry basket, I- sorry!”
Grantaire hadn’t thought Enjolras could look any cuter in the mornings, but seeing him stumble over his words, standing in his shirt and fidgeting with the bottom of it anxiously, it was clear that there was still so much for him to see. He couldn’t help mentally plan the next party in his mind in anticipation.
“Keep it,” Grantaire said smiling. “You’re right, it does look good on you.”
I’m not going to lie, this is my favourite routine!! <3
“Oh, for fucks sake, Enjolras!” Grantaire sighed as he entered their apartment, shrugging off his coat and placing his bag down on their kitchen counter.
“Hello to you too,” He replied distractedly, not looking up from his monitor, his fingers typing at a fast and urgent pace. “You know, some boyfriends say hello with a kiss or a ‘honey I’m home’, but I get ‘for fucks sake.’-”
“-some boyfriends would get a kiss if they were sleeping,” Grantaire retorted. His tone was pointed but his movements were gentle as he wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ shoulders and squeezed tightly. “If the bars are closing your eyes should be too.”
“In a minute,” Enjolras replied, still typing away as he placed a quick peck on Grantaire’s forearm.
Grantaire knew evasive action had to be taken, he removed his hands from around his shoulders, placing them instead on the back of the half broken office chair that he had stolen from an old job he hated and spun it around, causing Enjolras to stop mid sentence, emitting from him a protesting whine and a frowning face.
“Bed. Now.” Grantaire said in a firm tone he knew Enjolras would never take seriously. Still, he had to try to fix his disastrous sleeping schedule. Even if he did secretly find a certain joy in seeing his face after finishing a particularly bad shift. He knew immediately he had made a terrible mistake, because Enjolras’ sulk had turned quickly into a mischievous smile, and he knew a dangerous thought had come into his mind.
“You want to take me to bed?” Enjolras asked innocently, his voice all sugar and allure.
“Don’t you dare give me your sex eyes right now,” Grantaire warned him, but his tone was faltering, vulnerable by the glint behind Enjolras’ eyes. “This is- this is a serious situation, here.” He finished weakly. He knew he had lost at this point, and Enjolras knew too, rising and pulling him close, wrapping his lips around Grantaire’s hungrily.
“Come on,” Enjolras said when they finally broke apart for breathing room, taking his hand and leading him into their bedroom. “I know an almost guaranteed way to tire me out.”
Aww, Thank you very much!
It was bad enough they were camping — that in itself was something he only agreed to in order to begrudgingly appease Bahorel’s and Jehan’s desire for a night of outdoor bonding under the stars. They were adamant that the allure of moonlit air and the crackling of a roaring fire was a shared friendship experience like no other.
Nobody had told him that Enjolras had agreed to come too, and nobody had told him they would be sharing a tent until the fire was long out and the rest of them were yawning and pulling out sleeping bags, and any attempt at sleeping would send him into a spiral of self conscious panic in case he made a noise, or a movement, or God forbid — sleep talked a fucking love confession.
No, all of that would have been bad enough. But then Enjolras had to say his name. A sleepy, half moaned, whisper that had the audacity to sound happy of all things. That too would have been bad enough, if it had stopped there.
But of course it didn’t. Because in some kind of universe shifting, tragic misfortune giving, Bossuet’s-bad-luck-transferring, scenario, it had somehow gotten worse. Which was how he was found staring at a suddenly awoken Enjolras, who looked mortified to be met with his gaze.
“Why are you staring at me?” Enjolras asked him, and rightfully so.
Grantaire hated that the only option to not seem like a lovelorn creep was to actually tell the truth, and yet here he was.
“I heard you say my name in your sleep.” and for some reason Grantaire was the one who needed to sound guilty about that.
To his surprise, Enjolras didn’t scoff or disbelieve him, or mutter a quick word of understanding before turning over and falling back to sleep — no, Enjolras had blushed. Not only blushed, but ducked his head and let his gaze fall from Grantaire’s face.
Just as he thought the night could not get any stranger, Enjolras said words he had never expected to hear. Soft words that sounded akin to a confession.
“I was dreaming about you,” He said quietly.
“Nightmare?” Grantaire asked, because the only way he knew how to respond to such a thing was with a teasing deflection.
“No,” Enjolras said slowly and seriously, and he raised his eyes to meet his once more with a dangerous smile that made Grantaire’s mind scream and his heart stop in his chest. “It was a good dream. A really, really good dream.”
Maybe they had been right about the whole bonding under the stars thing after all.
Let’s face it, new or old, you’re still late to the Les Mis fandom
“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.” - Do I Wanna Know?, Arctic Monkeys
“And when the cops broke down our door/And held us both against our floor/Did we look like lovers or partners in crime?/Did you look like mine?/Or did we look like fools tryna get away with it all?” - Partners in Crime, FINNEAS
“Know that I will gladly be the Icarus to your certainty/Oh my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight/Strap the wing to me, death-trap clad happily/With wax melted, I’d meet the sea/Under sunlight, sunlight, sunlight.” - Sunlight, Hozier
“Come crashing in like a wildfire, I’m left in awe of you/Everytime I close the door I’m left wanting more of you.” - Rose of Sharon, Mumford and Sons
“And the history books forgot about us/And the Bible didn’t mention us/Not even once.” - Samson, Regina Spektor
“I love you more than I have ever found a way to say to you.” - The Luckiest, Ben Folds
“Cause the daylight seems to want you just as much as I want you.” - Crack the Shutters, Snow Patrol
“Well I’d like to think I’m the mess you’d wear with pride.” - I Go to the Barn Because I Like the, Band of Horses
“I am ash from your fire.” - hoax, Taylor Swift
“Baby, you’re hands down the best thing about me.” - Hands Down (Reprise), The Greeting Committee
so as proof of the fact that i DID actually start writing this even though i haven’t done very much, here. not so much a three-sentence prompt response as a sneak peek.
“Courfeyrac,” Enjolras hisses, prodding his shoulder. “Wake up. I need to talk to you.”
“No,” Courfeyrac says into his pillow.
“Wake up,” Enjolras repeats, trying not to sound desperate and certain he’s failing. “I made it weird.”
“Shut the fuck up, holy God.” Courfeyrac half sits up, glaring. His hair is standing on end and his eyes are venomous. “If you’ve sent another irately worded email to the mayor’s office in the middle of the night, we’ll deal with it tomorrow. It’s three in the morning. Weird can wait.”
There is no easy way to say this, or even begin to. Enjolras is already wishing he hadn’t woken Courfeyrac up at all. Wishing he hadn’t let Grantaire run, hadn’t waited so long to follow, hadn’t come up at a loss for words. Hadn’t even -
He isn’t wishing he hadn’t done it. And that’s the greatest surprise at all. He can still feel the pressure of Grantaire’s mouth against his own, a memory of heat and the scrape of his unshaved chin. The look in his eyes. The tremor in his shoulders.
One deep breath - and he leans into the fear of clarity. When he says something aloud, it means he stands behind it. That’s the only way forward.
“I don’t mean emailing the mayor’s office,” Enjolras says. “I mean kissing Grantaire.”
When Enjolras and Grantaire finally get together, Enjolras starts leading meetings and having debates from Grantaire’s lap.
Grantaire and Enjolras