Hi there, my sweet friend, thank you for asking me! ❤️ I’m sorry if I made you wait, and I turned the shirt In a hoodie, I hope you don’t mind ❤️
The weather was terrible, that day.
Enjolras was fairly sure Paris had never seen that much rain, not since the 1910’s great inondation.
Sitting cross legged on the carpet covered floor, Enjolras kept on tap, tap, tapping the tip of his pencil on the book in his lap, huffing. However he tried, he just couldn’t concentrate.
He got up, craving a warm cup of tea, and a flash of green caught his attention. There, on the couch, Grantaire’s hoodie laid forgotten beside Eponine’s glasses and Marius’s scarf, remains of their movie night.
Enjolras stopped in front of his couch and bit his lips, staring.
It couldn’t hurt, could it? To wear it just for a while?
He was alone in the apartment, Combeferre spending the day at Courfeyrac’s, no one would know if he were to fall into temptation.
He glared at the green hoodie, as if to make it disappear, taking his disturbing thoughts with it. Why should he care if it still smelled like Grantaire? It was none of his business. Really.
But, but it looked so soft, and warm, and big, and Enjolras was sure wearing it would feel like being enveloped in Grantaire, surrounded by his smell and, and Enjolras was cold anyway. And he didn’t want to walk all the way to his room, through the cold apartment, to get one of his own’s plain, boring, non-Grantaire’s hoodies.
It was on his couch after all, he had all the right to wear it - well, except for the fact that it wasn’t his, but who cared about such trivial a matter-
Torn between feeling guilty and excited, Enjolras slipped Grantaire’s hoodie on, over his t-shirt, sighing as the soft material brushed the bare skin of his arms.
God, it felt like drowning in Grantaire’s smell. And, it was so big on him, the sleeves so long only the tips of his fingers were visible.
Yeah, wearing it had been the right thing to do. He wasn’t even cold anymore.
Once his Grantaire-craving was solved - - well, partially - - Enjolras proceeded toward the kitchen to put the kettle on the stove.
As the water boiled he padded to the bathroom, deciding that a peek in the mirror couldn’t hurt.
To say he blushed as he caught sight of his reflection would be an understatement. Grantaire’s hoodie covered his body down to the knees, hiding his pajamas shorts and leaving him in green fabric and white socks. His curls tumbled messily around his shoulder and his reading glasses were perched on his nose. He looked as if he’d just come out of a manga.
Yeah, Grantaire’s hoodie was Enjolras’s hoodie, now. He wasn’t giving it back.
Enjolras sighed again, the temptation to twirl on the spot a strong one, but he refrained to do so. He wasn’t a lovesick teenager anymore, dammit. He put his hairs up in a ponytail ad exited the bathroom, turning the light off.
Twenty minutes later, Enjolras was still wrapped in Grantaire’s hoodie, nestled on the couch with his tea, when the knocking started.
Enjolras wasn’t expecting anyone, but whoever was knocking sure as hell was in a rush.
Enjolras went to open the door and, like in one of the wrost rom-com to ever exists, on the other side was no other than Grantaire, dripping wet on his doormat.
Enjolras gulped, frozen on the spot because he was still in that damned hoodie, and Grantaire smiled apologetically at him.
“Jojo, I’m sorry but I just couldn’t keep on walking, my apartment ’ s twenty minutes away and it looks like the apocalypse out there. Can I stay here? I’ ll be out of you way as soon as- wait, is that- is that my hoodie?”
Enjolras wanted nothing more than to be swallowed by the floor.
“Why are you wearing my hoodie?”
“I think - I think it looks good on me?”
Grantaire blinked and let his eyes travel on the whole of Enjolras’s body, taking in his fuzzy socks, his bare legs, the hoodie, his glasses– he cleared his throat.
“yeah, It-it suits you. Uhm”
“right- would you like to come in? You look like you could use something warm”
Grantaire had the care to leave his shoes on the mat before strolling inside, leaving Enjolras behind him to close the door.
Another twenty minutes and Grantaire was warm and dry as they both sat on the carpet, two fresh mugs of tea on the coffee table and Netflix on tv.
Grantaire turned around to face him, “So, my hoodie, hm?”
And, yeah. Enjolras was still wearing it. Sue him. Beside, it would have been suspicious to remove it in front of Grantaire.
He pulled at the hem of one of the sleeves, “It’s warm”
“And, that’s it?”
Enjolras tilted his head and Grantaire’s face came into view, “What do you mean?”
“What I mean, is that you’ve been sniffing the collar of that hoodie for the past twenty minutes,” Grantaire slid even closer, the tip of his nose brushed Enjolras’s cheek and made him gasp, “Grantaire?”
“Enjolras, Enjolras did I get this wrong?”
Enjolras was blushing, they both were, his tongue heavy in his mouth even as he answered, “no- no. You didn’t”. Grantaire inhaled sharply and his lips rested, open and humid, on Enjolras’s cheek, “Please, please, let me kiss you Enjolras.” Grantaire’s lips brushed down to his jaw and Enjolras nodded, whining when Grantaire pulled back. “You need to tell me, Enjolras.”
Enjolras fisted his hands in Grantaire’s shirt and climbed on his lap, his knees bracketing Grantaire’s hips and their eyes locked together.
“Grantaire, if you don’t kiss me right now I swear to God I’ll kill you. ”
“Ooh, bossy. I like it.”
Grantaire smiled up at him and slid his hands on Enjolras’s thigs, “Come here”.
Yeah. Wearing that hoodie had been the right thing to do indeed.