#i have literally never got an answer other than jehan. we are one and the same apparently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kjack89 · 3 years

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Personal Gain (Chapter 6/6)

Sorry this is so late! Life got crazy. But hey, better late than never.

Modern magic AU, developing E/R and Courferre. Read Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here and Chapter 5 here (or catch up on AO3).

The knock on the door was quiet, almost cautious, and Courfeyrac called out, “Come in!”

The door creaked open and Combeferre poked his head in. “Dare I ask what’s going on?” he asked mildly, stepping inside after he saw that Courfeyrac was alone.

“Well, for starters, it turns out that Enjolras and Grantaire didn’t need any magical help getting together, seeing as how they’ve been dating for six months.”

Combeferre blinked. “Well,” he said, taking a few steps towards Courfeyrac. “That certainly explains a lot.”

“You think?” Courfeyrac asked dryly.

“So you came here to disable the spells?”

Courfeyrac shrugged. “Well, seeing as how the binding spell had the unfortunate side of effect of making Enjolras want to stay here instead of the apartment he and Grantaire got together…” He trailed off, smiling slightly at the look of surprise on Combeferre’s face. “Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too.”

Combeferre shook his head slowly. “Wow,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and shaking his head slightly. “I...did not see that coming.”

Courfeyrac snorted. “Me neither,” he muttered. “Then again, seems there’s a lot that I haven’t seen coming these days.”

Combeferre eyed him warily. “That sounds ominous,” he said mildly. “Something on your mind?”

“You tell me,” Courfeyrac said, matching his tone and meeting his gaze evenly. “You’re the one who put a love potion in the Jäger.”

More emotions than Courfeyrac could possibly track flashed in rapid succession across Combeferre’s face, and Courfeyrac couldn’t quite stop his slightly smug smile as Combeferre opened his mouth but couldn’t seem to speak the denial he clearly wanted to. After a long moment of struggling, Combeferre swallowed, his expression neutral. “You didn’t get rid of the honesty spell,” he said finally.

Courfeyrac shrugged again. “I thought it might do us both some good to finally have to say it like it is,” he said. “And before you even start, you were the one preaching about consent before slipping me a love potion. What did you do, skim a little from the cauldron when I wasn’t looking?”

“Yes,” Combeferre said, not bothering to try to deny it this time.

Courfeyrac blinked, a little taken aback by how willingly he admitted it, even with the honesty spell. “And you put it in the Jäger.”

Again, Combeferre didn’t try to fight the lingering honesty spell. “Yes,” he said. “I put it in the Jäger.”

Courfeyrac bit back his immediate question, the why he had been holding back this entire time, because looking at Combeferre, standing not even two feet away from him, he knew why.

They both knew why.

Courfeyrac had been the one to say it, when he was explaining why he was doing this for Enjolras and Grantaire – because they would both be so happy with each other if they would just admit how they feel – but Combeferre had been the one to act on it.

And took a leaf out of Courfeyrac’s book to do so – rather literally.

So he managed to contain the grin he felt twitching at the corners of his mouth, glancing down at the floor for a moment before looking back at Combeferre. “And?”

“And what?” Combeferre asked, his brow furrowed. “And it didn’t work.”

Courfeyrac cocked his head slightly. “Who said that?”

Combeferre’s brow furrowed even further. “No one,” he said, “I just— You didn’t—”

He broke off, flushing slightly, and now Courfeyrac did grin. “What, didn’t jump you?” he asked cheerfully.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to word it,” Combeferre said sourly, something tightening in his expression before he looked pointedly away, and Courfeyrac’s stomach dropped as he realized Combeferre thought they were having a very different conversation than they were.

“No, I didn’t jump you,” he said quickly, “but—”

“Which means there weren’t feelings there,” Combeferre said flatly, still not meeting Courfeyrac’s eyes. “You said it yourself, a love potion doesn’t make someone feel a certain way, it just...amplifies feelings that are already there.”

“And you think that because I didn’t jump you, that there are no feelings there.”

Courfeyrac’s voice was incredulous, and Combeferre’s flush deepened. “Well, logically speaking—” he muttered, but Courfeyrac interrupted him.

“What part of my magic, of magic at all, has ever seemed logical to you?” he demanded.

Combeferre shook his head slowly but didn’t try to answer the question, instead looking at Courfeyrac, his expression unreadable. “So what are you saying?”

Courfeyrac arched an eyebrow. “I’m saying you miscalculated.”

Combeferre frowned. “I followed the instructions in the grimoire to the word—”

“There’s more to magic than just following instructions,” Courfeyrac said, exasperated. “It’s not a science experiment that you replicate with identical results every time!”

Combeferre’s scowl was firmly back in place. “Well then why don’t you tell me what I did wrong instead of lecturing me about it?” he snapped.

Courfeyrac couldn’t help himself – he barked a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his face before grinning at Combeferre. “You really are an idiot, you know that, right?”

“You said—”

“I know what I said,” Courfeyrac said.

Combeferre shook his head. “No, you said that the potion would fill the drinker with feelings of desire and possession, and—”

“Yeah, I know.”

Combeferre threw his hands up in frustration. “Ok, so then what did I miss?”

“You missed that I have spent every single day of the past few years pretending that I didn’t have feelings of desire and possession,” Courfeyrac said honest for the first time, and the spell had nothing to with it. Combeferre froze, staring at him. “You missed that I never needed a love potion for that. You think that I didn’t want to jump you after drinking that? Of course I did. But I’ve gotten really, really good at pretending that I don’t.”

Combeferre’s mouth opened and closed again as he gaped at Courfeyrac. After a long moment, he managed to pull himself together enough to croak, “Then why—”

“Because…” It was Courfeyrac’s turn to blush, just a little. “Because I didn’t think you felt the same.”

Combeferre stared at him, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well now who’s the idiot?” he asked.

In lieu of answering, Courfeyrac closed the space between them and kissed him.

For just a moment, Combeferre froze, but then he melted against him, kissing Courfeyrac back almost fiercely, his hand fisting in Courfeyrac’s shirt as if he could pull him closer.

When they broke apart, neither man moved far, and Courfeyrac reached out to cup Combeferre’s cheek, tracing his thumb across the spray of barely visible freckles across his cheek. “I think we can probably agree we’re both idiots,” he said quietly.

Combeferre laughed before kissing Courfeyrac again. “Maybe,” he allowed. “But at least we figured it out eventually.”

“Yeah, and it only took three spells and two potions for us to figure it out.” He kissed Combeferre once more before taking a step back. “Speaking of, there’s one more thing I need to do.”

“Get rid of the honesty spell?” Combeferre asked.

Courfeyrac. “Ok, two things,” he said, bending down to pick the crystal up from where he had hidden it on the coffee table, blowing on it gently to neutralize the spell within. “And now just one thing.”

“And what can you possibly have to do that’s more important than, well, me?” Combeferre asked, but Courfeyrac wasn’t deterred by the innuendo.

“I owe someone an apology.”

----------

Courfeyrac waited a few days before he made his way to Enjolras and Grantaire’s new apartment, figuring both men could probably use a little time back together now that Courfeyrac had gotten rid of the spell that had driven them apart.

Judging by the satisfied smile Grantaire wore when he answered the door, he had figured right.

“For you,” he said, using just a little magic to make a bouquet of flowers appear, and he presented them to Grantaire with a flourish.

“Flowers?” Grantaire asked mildly, taking the bouquet from Courfeyrac. “Have you been taking advice from Jehan?”

“Something like that,” Courfeyrac said. “Consider them an apology of sorts.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Grantaire asked, gesturing for Courfeyrac to come inside.

Courfeyrac shrugged, glancing around the apartment. He was completely unsurprised to see the cat that used to live behind the Musain curled up on the couch, along with a perfect mismatch of items from Enjolras and Grantaire’s former apartments. “Well, you know,” he said, glancing back at Grantaire. “I probably should’ve figured it out sooner.”

Grantaire laughed lightly, taking the flowers into the kitchen. “Or maybe you don’t give Enjolras and I enough credit for keeping it a secret.”

Courfeyrac laughed as well, meandering over to the bookshelf, gratified to see pictures of Les Amis dotting the shelves, along with one selfie of Enjolras and Grantaire that he had never seen, Grantaire kissing Enjolras’s cheek as Enjolras grinned at the camera. He picked the frame off the shelf, smiling down at it. “I definitely didn’t give you two enough credit,” he said as Grantaire rooted around for something to put the flowers in.

Before he could say anything else, the front door banged open and Enjolras came inside, typing furiously on his phone. “They can’t rescind an election certification,” he muttered to himself, toeing his shoes off at the door without looking up. “Hey R, what do you—”

Courfeyrac cleared his throat and Enjolras looked up at him. “Oh, hey, Courf,” he said vaguely, looking back down at his phone before his head snapped up again, the blood draining from his face. “I mean, uh…”

Courfeyrac smirked. “Good to see you, too.”

Enjolras looked frantically around, clearly looking for Grantaire. “I, uh, I can explain.”

“No need,” Grantaire said, coming out of the kitchen with the flowers sticking out of what Courfeyrac was fairly certain was a hurricane glass. “Courfeyrac knows.”

“I was planning on telling you,” Enjolras said, a little desperately, and Courfeyrac grinned, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

“Are you telling that to me or to Grantaire?”

“Both,” Enjolras muttered, and Grantaire laughed, setting the makeshift vase on the coffee table before crossing over to Enjolras and kissing him lightly.

“Don’t worry, you’re forgiven,” he said, and Enjolras sighed in relief before immediately bristling.

“Hang on, what in hell do I need forgiving for?”

Courfeyrac coughed lightly. “Well, I just wanted to bring you the flowers,” he told Grantaire, “and now I’ll leave you both to it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Enjolras muttered grumpily, though he was fighting back a smile as Grantaire kissed him again. “Are you and Combeferre still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Courfeyrac said, inching toward the door as Grantaire pulled Enjolras toward the couch. “And, uh, we have something to tell you tomorrow, too.”

Grantaire sat down on the couch and pulled Enjolras down with him. “Sure, sounds good,” Enjolras said distractedly, and Courfeyrac laughed before letting himself out, closing the door after him.

He made his way to the street and Combeferre straightened from where he had been leaning casually against the building, waiting for him. “Did they like the flowers?” he asked, leaning in to kiss Courfeyrac cheek in greeting.

Courfeyrac nodded. “I think so.”

They walked together for a moment before Combeferre glanced at him. “Did you put a spell on the flowers?”

“I am aghast that you think so poorly of me.” Combeferre just arched an eyebrow and Courfeyrac laughed. “Flowers don’t last forever,” he said. “Not worth wasting a spell on, though I did wind some ivy and yarrow in there, for love and healing – my version of an apology.”

“Ok, so you didn’t spell the flowers,” Combeferre said, undeterred. “But you did cast a spell.”

“Maybe,” Courfeyrac said with a grin, thinking of the small, nondescript stone he had slipped behind the picture frame on the bookshelf. “Just a little something.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Combeferre asked, mock-sternly, though he also couldn’t seem to stop himself from asking, “And what was this spell for?”

Courfeyrac took Combeferre’s hand, lacing their fingers together and lifting them to his mouth to press a kiss to Combeferre’s knuckles. “Happiness,” he said simply.

Combeferre’s smile softened. “Well, I can’t fault you for that. Just as long as you don’t try the same thing for us.”

“I think you and I have had more than enough magical interference for a lifetime,” Courfeyrac said. “Besides, we don’t need a spell to be happy.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of Combeferre’s mouth. “Now c’mon. Let’s go home.”

Together, they walked down the street, still hand in hand when, abruptly, Combeferre said, “You know, I don’t want to jinx it, but I do have to say it.”

“Say what?” Courfeyrac asked warily.

“I told you so.”

Courfeyrac glanced over at him, trying to place what, exactly, Combeferre was gloating about this time. Then it hit him. “Oh my God, are you serious?”

“You can’t use your magic for personal gain,” Combeferre said, a little smugly. “It never turns out the way you want it to.”

Courfeyrac nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. “Technically speaking, you used my magic for personal gain.”

Combeferre considered it and shrugged. “And it didn’t exactly work out the way I planned either, now did it?”

“No,” Courfeyrac agreed. “And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #courferre #courfeyrac #combeferre #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #magic au #developing relationship #chaptered #part 6 of 6

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mysunfreckle · 5 years

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as is likely not a surprise from my previous comment: #9

Angst to Fluff prompts: Person A got cursed and only person B, whohates their guts, can break it for Enjoltaire.

But of course!

1.7k, content warning: alcohol mention

It’s thebanging on the door that wakes him. Grantaire raises his head, grogginessclouding his mind. He feels heavy, like the blood in his veins has thickened tolead.

The knockingdoesn’t stop and Grantaire forces himself to his feet. Maybe it’s Joly, orBossuet, he could use them right now. He shakes his head in an effort to clearhis mind, but it doesn’t help. As he walks to answer the door he feels so unsteadyhe’d almost suspect himself of being drunk, but he hasn’t touched a drop, he’ssure of that.

Whoever isat the door stops assaulting it when he approaches and Grantaire smiles inanticipation of who he expects to see. If not Joly or Bossuet, then perhapsJehan, in any case it will make him feel— Grantaire’s smile falters as the dooropens. It’s Enjolras. Of course it had to be Enjolras.

Enjolraswho he can’t stand the sight of. Enjolras who he does not want to be near.

“What doyou want?” he asks gruffly, turning away from the door immediately. It hurts tolook at Enjolras, with his beautiful face and his gold-spun hair.

“I—”Enjolras begins behind him. “R? Won’t you look at me?”

“Don’t callme that,” Grantaire bites, turning around with his face twisted into a frown. “Myfriends call me that.” Enjolras has never been his friend, never will be hisfriend. Grantaire knows all too well that Enjolras has never cared about him.

“I’m sorry,”Enjolras says hesitantly, taking a single step over the threshold. “I didn’t meanto.”

“Didn’tmean to what.” Grantaire draws back again. It hurts just to listen to him.Enjolras with his brilliant words. Why has he come all the way over here justto force him to listen. He has no right. Oh Grantaire could hate him for this.He does hate him for this.

“Didn’tmean to upset you,” Enjolras continues, still with that voice full of painfulsincerity.

“Then leaveme alone,” he says. “I don’t want you here.”

Enjolraslooks sad. So sad. And Grantaire wisheshe wouldn’t. He wishes he’d have the fucking decency to listen to a simplerequest. He has never wanted to be around Grantaire so why is he here now.

“I— I’llgo,” Enjolras says, nearly taking a step back. “But…only if you’ll let me giveyou a proper goodbye.”

Grantairestares at him. “What?”

Enjolras isstill standing there, all golden hair and blue eyes and unwanted attention. “Willyou allow me to kiss you goodbye?”

Somethingwith claws curls in Grantaire’s chest. “Is this a joke to you?” he spits. Ohwhy won’t he just fucking go, and leave him alone like he always has before.

But Enjolras’face is pale as he shakes his head. “No joke,” he say, quietly. “Let me kissyou goodbye and I’ll…I’ll go and you never have to see me again if that’s whatyou want.”

Just the thoughtof it makes Grantaire’s head grow lighter and with an impatient movement,jerking angrily with his shoulders, he offers Enjolras his cheek.

“No,R-Grantaire—” Enjolras face is far too close and far too earnest, Grantaire canfeel the sincerity of it mock his entire being. “I need your permission. I’llgo, I’ll leave, I promise, but only if you’ll permit me t—”

“Fuck, whatdo you want from me, Enjolras!”Grantaire snaps, his patience tearing at the seams. It feels like something issqueezing the blood from his heart. “Fine,okay?” he says bitterly. “I permit it.Anything to get you to leave me the fuck al—”

Grantaireblinks, his thoughts stuttering to a halt. The lead drains from his mind andlimbs and his heart gives a familiar tell-tale jolt, when his eyes look into a fartoo familiar face.

“Enjolras?”he says uncertainly.

“Oh thankgod,” Enjolras breathes, his face flooding with relief and before Grantaire canask him what on earth is going on, his friend makes a frantic noise and pullshis sleeve away from his right wrist.

A gold bandtears itself into two halves before Grantaire’s bewildered eyes and the sharpsmell of vicious magic fills the air. The bracelet falls to the ground with adull metallic clang.

Enjolras clutcheshis arm, sucking air in through his teeth and swearing under his breath.

“What thehell,” Grantaire blurts and he reaches out for Enjolras’ hand without thinking.“Are you okay? Did it burn you?”

“No,”Enjolras says hastily. “I mean, yes I’m fine. R, can we—”

ButGrantaire isn’t quite listening. He’s staring at the torn gold strip lying onhis hallway floor. “Is that a curse?”he says in dismay. Black symbols line the inside of the broken bracelet, theedges of them still smouldering slightly as the power to them fades.

“…yes,”Enjolras mutters. “It is.”

Grantaire glancesup for a moment, halfway to leaning down to pick up the two halves for closer inspection.“Who the hell put a cursed band on you?”

“I put iton myself,” Enjolras says uncomfortably. “It was a present.” His voice takes ona bitter note. “A farewell present,from Guillaume.”

Grantairewinces, getting back up with the curse-bearer in his hand. The metal is almostwarm. “Posh Guillaume who wants to marry you?”

“I don’t thinkshe wants that anymore,” Enjolras answers stiffly.

“Enj youdidn’t seriously put on a piece of jewellery that was given to you by a sorcerer as a farewell after you turned downhis marriage proposal.” Grantairegives him a bewildered look. “For one of the most revolutionary minds in modernmagic you can be really dense, andthat’s coming from me.”

“Yes,” Enjolrasgrimaces, shuffling his feet. “Well—”

“So whatthe hell did Guillame do?” Grantaire says, looking down at the inscription. “Didhe try…to…” The symbols are not in any language of magic Grantaire uses, but hecan still read it. May the person whosegood opinion it would most hurt you to loose have their feelings for youexactly reversed.

Grantairelooks up, into Enjolras’ nearly anxious face.

“You don’tremember, do you,” he mutters.

“I…”Grantaire frowns. “I remember feeling like shit and…” He remembers hating Enjolras.

Grantairedrops the bracelet.

“I’m sorry,”Enjolras blurts out. “For getting you cursed along with me. It’s over though,you broke it.”

“How?”Grantaire gapes, kicking the twisted metal across the floor and into a corner. Heremembers his mind dripping with lead and his heart squeezing itself empty. Andhating Enjolras.

Enjolras’mouth pulls into a thin line. “I suppose Guillame thought it would be fittingthat I should beg someone for a kiss.”

Grantaire’sheart does something treacherous and his face grows hot for a second. It’sthrough a haze of sickening feelings, but he remembers that too now, Enjolrasbegging permission to kiss him. “Wait…” He looks straight into Enjolras’ eyes. “I’m the person whose good opinion you’dbe most hurt to lose?”

Enjolras’cheeks go pink, but he doesn’t look away. “I spent too long trying to find outwhy you of all people would want to believe in me,” he mutters. “The thoughtthat you wouldn’t anymore… I can’t—” There’s a fearful glitter to the blue ofhis eyes for a second. “I don’t want that.”

The mix ofastonishment and happiness that pours into Grantaire’s mind is enough to silencehim for a moment, but then a worried thought occurs to him. “How long did itlast?” he asks. “The curse.”

“Eight hoursand forty minutes, give or take,” Enjolras answers immediately.

Once again,Grantaire gapes. “Eight— you mean you got that bracelet this morning? How did you even know it hadworked? How did you even know it was me?”

“You weren’tat the meeting!” Enjolras says defensively.

Grantairegroans, running a hand through his hair. “I miss a single opportunity to hearyou speak and you immediately suspect foul play.”

“Well I hadliterally been cursed earlier that day,” Enjolras reminds him.

“Oh I wasn’timplying your conclusion was unreasonable,” Grantaire grimaces. “Would havebeen plausible even without the curse.”

When hestops pulling his own head back Enjolras is looking at him, with a soft kind ofexpression that Grantaire doesn’t think he has ever seen before. “I knew itwould be you,” he says. “I was sure. As soon as Ferre deciphered the curse I knew.I…I didn’t need this to happen to know that you’re— I didn’t say somethingbefore, because I didn’t know how, yet.”

Grantaireleans back against the wall, vaguely considering how ridiculous it is that they’restill in the hallway, and that the door is still open. He’s trying very hardnot to think about what Enjorlas didn’t know how to say. Because right now he’slooking at him like…like… “It didn’t even work,” he says softly. “Not really.”

“What doyou mean?” Enjolras asks, drawing just a little closer.

“It didn’treverse my feelings,” he says. He had still thought Enjolras was beautiful.Still known he was brilliant. “It just…turned them against me.”

Enjolraslooks at him very intently for what seems like half an eternity.

Grantaireswallows. “So I guess you can tell Guillame his curses are shit.”

A flickerof amusement dances in the blue. “If he still has ears left to speak to. Jehan foundout first, about what happened.”

“Ouch,”Grantaire says, but his expression is not very compassionate.

Once againthere’s a short silence between them, but then Enjolras says: “Do you stillwant me to leave?”

Grantaireturns his eyes towards the ceiling for a moment. “Seeing as I’m no longer underthe influence of literal mind-altering magic, no I don’t.” He never wants Enjolrasto leave.

When he looksback down Enjolras is closer than he was before.

“…do youstill want the kiss?”

Grantaire’sheart does that same treacherous thing again. “I thought it was a goodbye kiss,”he says, steadying his voice.

Enjolras isclose enough now that Grantaire has to look up to meet his eyes. They look ateach other long enough for their expressions to go nearly serious, but thenEnjolras speaks again:

“If youwant, it could be a would you go out with me kiss instead.”

Grantaire has no control whatsoever over the smile that spreads across hisface at those words. But this time, it is an infinitely sweeter sensation than being under any kind of spell.

#enjoltaire #exr #magic au #fantasy au #this needs a proofread #and I'm not even sure if it works this way #but it's very late #and I should practice being less perfectionistic #sunfreckle's stories #angst to fluff prompts

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lesmisiskillingme · 7 years

Text

Safe Now

Pairing: Enjoltaire, jehanparnasse. Warnings: alcohol mention, drug mention, police brutality, blood, swearing, injuries. Modern au Ring. Ring. Ring. Montparnasse groaned, reaching out to the noise to shut that goddamn thing off, he could already feel a headache starting. He looked at what it said on the phone and in white letters was 'Grantaire.' Parnasse decided to answer it for once, and was met with a voice that was not Grantaires, but was Combeferre. Before he could hang up, and somehow Ferre could sense it, Ferre yelled into the speaker, 'Parnasse wait! It's about Grantaire!' That stopped him. 'What about Grantaire?' 'You remember that protest we had scheduled for today at the bank?' Yes. Parnasse remembered. He had said he would go, he promised Jehan he would come. 'Oh fuck, yeah, please tell me I didn't miss it.' God. He had disappointed Jehan again. But he got flashes of the night before, loud music, lots of shots, and some sort of drug being inhaled. His head hurt more. 'Yeah, you did, but listen, Grantaire, Jehan, and a couple others got hurt, you might want to come to the hospital, and quick, they're taking R into surgery soon.' 'Wait wait wait. Hold the fuck up, surgery?' He waited for Combeferre to fill him in on what happened, but all he did was sigh and say, 'Just come to the hospital on Belbury, I'll fill you in when you get here, and you might want to hurry.' 'Ok, be there in fifteen.' The hospital was only five minutes walking distance, so he shot up, and got dressed, in some black jeans, and his leather jacket, and a dark blue vneck. Parnasse walked out of the apartment, and into the cool mid afternoon air, glad he'd put on his leather jacket to keep warm. Taking long strides, and rubbing his arms, he wished he had gotten a scarf, but he ignored the cold, and set his thoughts on getting to the hospital. It must be bad if Grantaire is getting surgery. Hell. How was Grantaire going to pay his medical bill? He was already a struggling artist, and had dropped out of college because he couldn't deal with all the debt piling up. And Jehan. Jehan needed to be ok, he couldn't be hurt, it would be Parnasses fault. His fault he got drunk off his ass the night before, and sleeping through the protest. And he didn't know how bad Jehan was hurt. If Parnasse had just not fucked up, hadn't gotten high last night, he could have been their. He could have been their to stop Jehan from getting hurt. He walked through the entrance, greeted by another rush of cold air, giving no relief from the weather outside, and immediately saw familiar faces, but they were worse for wear. Courfeyrac had a black eye, and had fallen asleep, his head resting on the wall, Combeferre had dried blood on his cheek, where there was a bandage, and dried blood that had seeped through. Eponine looked unscathed for the most part, other than looking dog tired, and she smiled weakly at him. Joly had his knee in a brace, and his eyes looked extremely pink, giving away the fact that he had been crying recently. Boussuet and Feuilly weren't in the room at the moment. Marius was in the corner, asleep, and he too had a black eye, and his wrist was bandaged. And then, there was Enjolras, who looked like a dog, with a terribly wild look in his eyes, his lip was split, and his cheek was bruised, and had a cut over his eyebrow, blood still trickling from it into his eye, but he seemed unaffected. Montparnasse had never seen the fearless leader so, well, fearful. Combeferre was the first to notice he was here, and walked up to him, limping. 'What the fuck happened to you all?' He asked. Nobody had ever gotten hurt like this at one of there protests, sure a few scrapes and bruises, but never this. If the les amis in the room weren't all that banged up, he could only imagine what had happened to Grantaire, and Jehan. 'It all happened so quick, we were protesting, and Enjolras was hyping up the crowd that had gathered around the bank, yelling about the wage gap, and other things. Suddenly, the police were their, and tear gas had been thrown into the crowd, forcing them to disperse, people ran in all different directions, I fell onto the pavement and I was lucky enough to fall onto some glass from a bottle, I got about 67 stitches in my side, and 5 on my cheek here.' He gestured to his cheek, and continued on. 'The others got hurt, I'll let you ask how they got hurt because I don't know, I only really know how Grantaire got hurt. He got the worst of it. Enjolras, he was still attempting to protest through the tear gas, and I guess he got too close to the police for there comfort, because next thing I know a few guns are pointing at him, and he didn't care, fucking E. He knew he was in danger. Before the cops could hurt him though, Grantaire fucking pushes Enjolras out of the way, as a trigger happy bloke pulled the goddamn trigger, and got him in his shoulder. It was absolute mayhem, you should be happy you missed the protest.' And before he could inquire about Jehan,Ferre shook his head, 'No idea what happened to him, neither does anyone else, and none of us are able to see him.' 'Why the hell not?' 'For some fucking reason only relatives can visit.' He sighed. Even more troubled now. He should have been their goddamnit. What if when Jehan had been hurt he'd been all alone? He sat down in an empty chair next to Eponine, who laid her head on his shoulder. 'At least she's ok,' he thought. Ep and him had been friends for years now. He would die if she ever got hurt. Not too long after, a nurse came out, saying that right before the surgery, 3 people could visit Grantaire. (Montparnasse learned that the bullet had shattered in his shoulder on impact, and he would be getting the surgery to have the pieces removed) (he also learned that Marius would be covering the cost of the medical bill, as he still had a savings account for college, but had dropped out a while ago) it was him, Enjolras, and Eponine who had been picked to visit him. Enjolras was in first, already by R's side, holding his hand and kissing his cheek, apologizing profusely, apologizing and apologizing. R just smiled, loopy from the painkillers and cupped E's cheek, slurring out a sentence, 'Apollo, fret not, I may not be a god like you, but I will live on.' E blushed, still holding his hand, and R gave a faint smile, eyes droopy, and his eyes turned to Eponine, who looked pissed, and said to him sternly, 'Grantaire, I swear to god, if you ever get yourself hurt like that again I will make sure to withhold your steady supply of liquor from all of the shops in this city-' her voice broke, and tears slid down her cheeks, as she knelt down to Grantaire in a crushing hug, and whispered '-but I'm glad you're ok.' For some reason, he felt out of place. He wasn't about to break down in tears, but he was glad his friend was ok. So he walked over to R, bent over and placed a small kiss on his forehead, and smiled, 'I'm glad your ok R.' And he walked out, leaving the 2 to talk to R some more before his surgery. He walked over to the front desk asking for the patient Jean Prouvaire. 'I'm sorry sir, but only relatives are able to visit, how are you related to this patient?' Quick, Montparnasse, quick. He suddenly said, 'They're my husband, please. Can I please see them?' No. They weren't married. But Parnasse cared about Jehan, he would even go as far as to say that he loved them. The nurse was already up, and leading him to Jehans room, and when he walked in, Montparnasse nearly collapsed. Jehan had bandages covering almost all of the skin that was exposed, and had bandages wrapped around there head. Jehan looked up, and a bright smile came onto there face. He rushed over, and goddamnit he was crying, and he was kissing jehan, kissing his cheek, his lips, his nose, and letting his tears run freely, unashamed. He held onto Jehan like they would be ripped away at any moment, and he just started babbling, 'Jehan god I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry, how could you I ever forgive me it's my fault you were hurt, I should have been their with you, I shouldn't have fucked around with drugs last night. It's all my fault, please, please forgive me oh my god, Jehan-' he stopped to sob, and kissed Jehan fiercely, who was chuckling and had tears sliding down their cheeks too, kissing back. 'Please tell me -sob- what the hell happened to you, I swear if someone touched you they will be sorry they were born.' 'Ma beauté, it was nothing, just a slight kerfuffle with the police.' 'Jehan. What did they do to you?' He looked at Jehan, who suddenly got a sad look in there eyes, and sighed, knowing that really, they couldn't hide the truth. 'A couple of the police, they dragged me away from the crowd, beat me up in an alley, I passed out after a while and was found by some passerby.' Montparnasse saw red. He couldn't feel anything either than pure, ferocious, anger. The voice that came out of him, wasn't his, but a completely different persons, 'I swear I will make them pay, they will be sorry that they ever laid a finger on you, I won't ever let anyone hurt you again, because I love you so so much, and I would die if I ever saw you hurt aga-' 'Mon ange, what did you say?' And Jehan had a mischievous look on their face, that, if possible, made Montparnasse love them even more. 'I, I love you, I do, and I would do anything for you. I would go to all the protests, I would quit drinking I would do anything for you, quite literally, and I'm not afraid to hide it.' And Montparnasse was so relieved, he had wanted to tell Jehan that he loved them from the moment they went on their first date, and Jehan had recited a small poem Shakespeare had written to him. 'Mon amour, I have you, and that is all I need, and I love you too, utterly and completely.' Montparnasse engulfed Jehan in a hug, and they stayed like that for a couple for minutes, before Jehan pulled away, kissing Parnasse, and smiled at him blushing. Jehan scooted over, and patted next to them on the bed, signaling for him to lay with him, and he did just that. They laid down, and Parnasse pressed one last kiss against the bandages and red hair on Jehans head, and Jehan had started to doze off, and Parnasse held him while he was asleep. And Parnasse could relax, knowing that Jehan was safe in his arms.

#les miserables #les mis #kind of happy with it kind of not #Montparnasse #jehan prouvaire #jean prouvaire #Jehan #enjoltaire #jehanparnasse #one shot #modern au #my writing #my work

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toosicktoocare · 7 years

Text

I was scrolling through my blog to find the scenario post this is prompt is based on, and it took me so long to find it, which means it’s taken me this long to fill this prompt. I’m so sorry, anon! (But, I love that you asked for this bc these two are seriously my OTP) (Modern AU)

“Drugs, Grantaire? Seriously?” Enjolras crossed his arms, tone heavily laced with disappointment.

They had been at a rally with the rest of the Les Amis. Everything had been peaceful up until the cops showed up unannounced. Enjolras, who had been on the stage at the time, was a flurry of anger and confusion as shouts of “drugs” floated up from the crowd.

Shortly after, all hell had broken loose. Cops were shoving people roughly aside to single out one person. Grantaire.

The brunet had been the definition of resistant, claiming wildly over and over that the drugs found on the ground at his feet weren’t his, but the evidence showed otherwise. At least, that was what Enjolras had thought, and that was why he sped straight to Grantaire’s apartment as soon as he got word that the brunet had been released.

“I’m trying to tell you that they weren’t mine!”

Enjolras shoved past the brunet to get into the apartment, quickly turning on his heel to face him once more. “How am I supposed to believe that when the drugs were literally at your feet?”

“There were so many people there, Enj! Anyone could have dropped them!”

Grantaire’s tone was thick with desperation, and Enjolras almost faltered, but his anger flared, getting the best of him. “Why would you jeopardize the rally like that, Grantaire? I know you don’t necessarily agree with what we stand for, but you’ve never done something like this before.”

“So, why do you think I would do something like this now!?”

Logically, Grantaire had a point, but Enjolras was too aggravated at the disaster that the rally turned into to make reason with logic. “Maybe you did it to get back at me.”

“For what!?”

There was anger coloring Grantaire’s tone now, which was only proving to heighten Enjolras’s own fury boiling his blood. “I don’t know, R! Maybe because you were mad that I snapped at you on Tuesday’s meeting! Maybe this has been your plan all along- to ruin the image of the Les Amis!” Enjolras flailed his arms about as each word grew louder and angrier than the one before.

Grantaire froze at the words, brows furrowed deeply. But, when Enjolras opened his mouth to continue, he ended up snapping his mouth closed just as Grantaire’s eyes rolled back before he collapsed to the floor.

For a moment, everything was still. Enjolras was stunned, his mind completely blank and breath caught in his throat. But moments later, time caught up to him, and he dropped to his knees beside Grantaire, shaking hands hovering over the seemingly lifeless body.

Panic was swelling deep within his stomach as he ghosted his hands above Grantaire’s face. The only color to the brunet’s face was the dark red flush spread across his cheeks, and when Enjolras brushed a hesitant palm against Grantaire’s forehead, he found it burning. He jerked his hand towards Grantaire’s wrist, pressing on the small indent until he felt a weak pulse thumping against his fingertips.

While the pulse should have been relieving, the brunet was still unconscious. Enjolras stared with wide, panicked eyes. He had no idea that Grantaire was ill, and any anger he felt before was dissipating into deep-rooted concern.

His mind was running a million miles a minute, and before he knew what was happening, he was carefully lifting Grantaire bridal style and carting him off towards the bedroom. His worry only heightened as he gently placed Grantaire on the bed because the brunet was still out despite the jostling around from being lifted.

Enjolras had no idea what to do- this wasn’t his field. He called Combeferre but got his voice mail, and when he tried Joly, the result was the same.

His mind told him to lower the fever, and he walked into the bathroom, wetting a hand towel with cold water before moving back to the bedroom as if on autopilot.

He began the slow process of smoothing the towel over Grantaire’s forehead, down to his cheeks, then further down to his neck, and he repeated this, continuously getting up to re-wet the towel for the twenty minutes it took for Grantaire to come to.

“Grantaire?” He watched with bated breath, hand frozen halfway towards Grantaire’s forehead, as Grantaire groaned and rolled his head to the side.

“R?” He pressed, voice ever so soft and gentle, and when Grantaire opened his eyes, Enjolras could feel the tension slide from his shoulders as relief washed over his body like a tidal wave.

“Wha?”

Enjolras used his free hand to brush Grantaire’s bangs back, frowning at the boiling heat still. But, at least the brunet was awake. “You fainted,” he said, unable to keep the concern out of his voice. “You’re burning up.”

Grantaire seemed to take a moment to process the words before nodding.

“How long have you been feeling this bad?” Enjolras smoothed the damp cloth down Grantaire’s cheek, heart wrenching as the brunet leaned into the cool touch.

“A few days.”

Enjolras’s forehead creased into a frown. “Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you even come to the rally?”

“To support you.”

Enjolras wasn’t sure how three words could make his heart stutter drastically, but it did. Their previous argument was flashing hot across his mind, and apparently, Grantaire was remembering the same.

“They weren’t mine, E.”

Grantaire’s voice was so weak, so sad, and Enjolras could only shake his head in response as he gripped one of Grantaire’s hands.

“That’s not important now,” he managed out after a few moments. “Just let me take care of you.”

“You don’t ha-”

“Nonsense,” Enjolras snapped lightly, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “I want to.”

And, Grantaire gave in, drifting back to sleep a few moments later while Enjolras kept his routine up. The following few hours were rough to say the least. Grantaire was alternating from shivering intensely to attempting to strip all his clothes off while still sucked into a fitful sleep.

Enjolras piled on the blankets when the shivering picked up and peeled them back off when Grantaire started to kick weakly at them, all while re-wetting and smoothing the cool, damp cloth over his face and neck.

After what felt like years for Enjolras, Grantaire’s face relaxed some, and his erratic breathing had evened out. Enjolras quietly stepped out of the room to call Combeferre, who had called four times.

“You didn’t murder him, did you?”

Enjolras breathed out a low sigh at Combeferre’s almost breathless greeting. “No.”

“They weren’t his drugs, E. One of Marius’s classmates came forward and confessed while I was bandaging Courfeyrac’s arm.”

Enjolras glanced towards the bedroom, eyes filled with guilt. “He fainted,” he said lowly. “What happened to Courf?” He added.

“Wait, R fainted? Why? Did he get hurt?”

“No,” Enjolras said, dropping down onto the couch. “We were arguing, and he just passed out. He’s got a really bad fever.” Enjolras suddenly felt tired, like the energy was being sucked out of his body with each word.

“What? He didn’t say he was sick? Why did he even go to the rally?”

“To support me,” Enjolras whispered, clutching the phone hard with a trembling hand.

“Is he okay? Did he wake up? I can come over there.”

“It’s fine,” Enjolras answered, tilting his head back against the back of the couch. “He woke up, and I’m taking care of him. What happened to Courf?”

“Small mishap when a cop got too handsy with Jehan. Are you sure you don’t need me?”

Enjolras nodded despite knowing Combeferre couldn’t see. “Yeah,” he finally managed out after a few moments. “I’ll call if I need you.”

The two said their goodbyes, and Enjolras went back to the bedroom to find Grantaire still sleeping peacefully. When he pressed a palm to Grantaire’s forehead, he found it slightly cooler than before, and he took that as a small victory as he went to re-wet the towel.

He spent another hour gently smoothing the towel over Grantaire’s face and neck before the brunet stirred once more.

“Hey,” he rasped out, and Enjolras was quick to retrieve a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Grantaire said, voice slightly stronger after sipping gingerly at the water.

Enjolras set the glass down before taking one of Grantaire’s hands once more. “Listen,” he started, gently rubbing his thumb across Grantaire’s hand. “Someone came forward and confessed to the drugs.” He studied Grantaire’s face, but the brunet showed no signs of gloating.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, but I’m more sorry that I made such absurd accusations.” Enjolras tightened his grip on Grantaire’s hand when Grantaire opened his mouth to reply. “Not now,” he said, cutting the brunet off. “We will talk about this more once you’re well. I just wanted to apologize before you go back to sleep.”

With no other choice, Grantaire could only nod in response, but after thinking for a moment, he suddenly asked, “Lie with me? You look exhausted.”

Enjolras frowned, a polite decline hot on his lips, but the look in Grantaire’s eyes was hopeful, sincere, and before he knew it, he was climbing into the bed beside the brunet.

The two kept their distance, both lying on their backs with a good bit of space between them. But, when Grantaire brushed his hand lightly against Enjolras’s, Enjolras moved his hand until their fingers laced together as if they belonged that way, and the two drifted off to sleep, the previous argument lost within the comfort of their company.

#les mis #les amis #enjoltaire #exr #prompt #sickfic #enjolras #grantaire #combeferre #fucking love this prompt #my writing #my les mis writing

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mysunfreckle · 6 years

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never asked you for anything like this before, but hug prompt number 11 (first hug) + jehanparnasse is such a cute idea, y'know? :}

BEA! You’rethe first person to ask forJehanparnasse!! I’m supposed to be doing these neatly in order, but this oneskipped ahead in the queue

Cw: alcohol.

“No morefor Jehan,” Éponine says jokingly, patting them on their head where they aresitting on the floor, leaning against Grantaire’s legs.

“Who madeyou mom for the evening?” Jehan teases. They haven’t actually had that much todrink, but they’re tired enough that it has hit them a little harder thanusual. It’s lovely to have a proper night off after literal weeks of almost allwork and no play. Grantaire always has good rosé in stock and they’re so wonderfullyfuzzy around the edges now.

“Ah, theydon’t have to go home this time,” Grantaire says, reaching out to stoke theirhair fondly. “So it’s fine.”

“Alright,”Éponine singsongs from the other end of the room. “But I’m not the oneresponsible when Zette has complaints about the state of her roommate.”

“Mm I don’tknow,” Claquesous drawls from the other couch. He’s lying with his feet slungacross Gueulemer’s lap and it’s amusing to Jehan to see how little Gueulemer isbothered by this. “I’m pretty sure you’re responsible for handling Cosette bynow.”

Jehangiggles and nudges their head against Grantaire’s hand to make him continuestroking. This evening is practically perfect. It’s just a shame Montparnasseisn’t here. Jehan hasn’t asked after him. He’s Éponine’s friend, notGrantaire’s and they are here to see Grantaire…technically.

“IsMontparnasse still coming or what?” Gueulemer asks suddenly.

“Beats me,”Éponine shrugs. “Never answer his messages until he feels like it.”

Jehan tipstheir head back until its leaning against Grantaire’s knee and thinks of darklocks falling gracefully in front of green eyes. When Grantaire is busy talkingto Éponine they steal his glass from the side table and makes an exaggerated aface at Claquesous when he grins at them.

Perhapsthey’re more tired than they thought, because when Jehan is roused by slightlyraised voices it seems they have actually dropped off for a moment. They opentheir eyes just in time to see Montparnasse walk into the living room behindÉponine, greeting Claquesous, Gueulemer and Grantaire in the same breath, butstopping in his tracks when he sees them sitting on the floor.

“We thoughtyou weren’t coming anymore,” Jehan hears themself say, blinking the heavinessfrom their eyes.

Montparnasseblinks as well, forming his lips into a vague smile. “Fashionably late.”

“Fashionablytoo late,” Grantaire yawns. “Éponine was just talking about kicking you allout.”

“Some of ushave day jobs,” Éponine says meaningfully.

“Yeah,well,” Claquesous groans, stretching his arms above his head. “I told him tocome anyway.” He grins. “Cause that means we have a ride now.”

Montparnasserolls his eyes, but hardly seems bothered. He leans elegantly against thenearest wall, ankles crossed, while Claquesous and Gueulemer get up and gathertheir things.

Jehan toowarm and fuzzy to be really resentful, but they are slightly resentful at thisturn of events. Well, at least they got to see him after all. If only for amoment. They get to their feet as well, swaying slightly on their feet,probably more from sleepiness than from the wine.

“Time forbed I think,” Grantaire says, moving off the couch behind them.

“Yes,”Jehan yawns and they turn around and catch Éponine by the arm. “Goodnight,Ponine,” they mutter, leaning against her affectionately for a moment.

“Goodnight,Jehan,” she chuckles.

Claquesousand Gueulemer call goodbyes from the hallway where they are shrugging on theircoats, but Montparnasse is still leaning against the wall and when Jehan turnsaround he is suddenly a lot closer than they thought he was. Jehan looks up athim and it seems the best idea to raise their arms and wrap them around hisneck. “Goodnight, Montparnasse,” they mumble against his shoulder.

Montparnassefreezes for a moment, but then his arms move and he carefully hugs them back.

Jehan glowson the inside and they let him go, stepping back with a last parting smilebefore slumping against Grantaire, who is also conveniently close. They do notquite see the vague blush across Montparnasse’s cheeks and neither do theynotice the look Éponine gives him.

Grantaire barely has time to get them intobed before they fall asleep again. They have wonderful dreams though. Justwonderful.

#jehanparnasse #montparnasse #claquesous #gueulemer #eponine #grantaire #jehan #cw alcohol #I had to do this one still #hug prompts #sunfreckle's stories #be careful what you wish for #thank you bea <3

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