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kjack89 · 1 year

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13, for the Spotify Wrapped 2022 fics!

13. "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)" by Four Tops

E/R, established, 1960s AU. CW: Minor injury.

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The bed creaked and dipped in a far too familiar way, and Grantaire groaned without opening his eyes. “Come back,” he mumbled sleepily, more into his pillow than into the quiet of the morning.

He only opened his eyes when Enjolras chuckled lightly in response before leaning over to kiss his forehead. “Can’t,” he said, stretching before he stood. “Bus leaves in an hour and Combeferre will literally kill me if I miss it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Grantaire grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows as he watched Enjolras grab his bell bottom jeans and shirt from the night before off the floor. “What are you protesting against this time – the draft? The war in general? Civil rights?”

“I don’t think civil rights is something you protest against,” Enjolras said mildly.

Grantaire just arched an eyebrow. “If you’re a white man from the South—”

“Touché.” Enjolras paused. “You know, you could always come with me and find out.”

He said it casually, as if it was the first time he’d made such a suggestion and not the fiftieth, which helped explain why Grantaire matched his tone as he countered, “You could always stay here and tell me.”

It was an old argument, the kind that had been played out so many times that neither even needed to speak the words anymore to know how it would end: a stalemate, just as it always did. Enjolras just shook his head as he buttoned his vest before pausing, catching sight of something on Grantaire’s night stand. “Wait a minute, is that—”

Grantaire blanched, scrambling across the bed to grab the picture frame, but Enjolras beat him to it, snatching it triumphantly away from him. “You framed my mug shot?”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might try to deny it, but he settled for shrugging in an unconcerned kind of way as he finally pulled himself into a sitting position. “Well, it’s not like you’ve ever given me a picture of you,” he pointed out. “Not even your senior picture from high school – Class of ‘62, Go Falcons.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Mostly because all of those were burned,” he said dryly. “Where’d you even get this from, anyway?”

“Clipped it from the paper,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “Helps me to not forget what you look like when you’re gone.”

Something flickered in Enjolras’s expression. “Grantaire—”

“I know,” Grantaire said quickly, standing and crossing to Enjolras to give him a kiss before telling him, his voice low, “Just as long as you come back to me.”

“I always do,” Enjolras told him.

“Good,” Grantaire said firmly, before something like a smirk twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Because you know that I need you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t—”

“I can’t help myself,” Grantaire told him solemnly, completely ignoring his attempted warning. “I love you and nobody else.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, even as he wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist.. “I will literally pay the radio station to stop playing that song.”

Grantaire laughed. “You just don’t like that I claimed Sugar Pie and stuck you with Honey Bunch.”

“Yes, that’s the only part that I dislike, and not the incessant singing,” Enjolras said sourly before leaning in and kissing his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Grantaire told him, ruining the moment of sincerity by adding, saccharine-sweet, “Honey Bunch.”

Enjolras’s eye twitched as he did his best to ignore him. “I’ll see you when I get back,” he said instead, and when Grantaire looked pointedly at him, he rolled his eyes and added, “Sugar Pie.”

Something darkened momentarily in Grantaire’s expression. “Just try not to get yourself shot,” he said lightly. “Or beaten. Or arrested.”

“I promise to try.”

Grantaire just sighed. “I wish that was more reassuring.”

— — — — —

Grantaire didn’t even attempt to hide the look on his face as Enjolras got off the bus, looking tired. HIs expression tightened when he saw Enjolras’s black eye and barely-scabbed split lip. “It’s fine,” Enjolras assured him. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

Grantaire just hummed noncommittally, reaching out to lightly brush his thumb across Enjolras’s bruised cheekbone. “At least you’re home.”

“Not just home, Enjolras said, swinging his backpack off his shoulder. “Home and with a gift.”

“Are you repaying the money I wired Combeferre to bail you out?” Grantaire asked

“Better,” Enjolras said, digging through the bag.

“What could possibly be better than—”

Enjolras pulled something out of his backpack and handed it triumphantly to Grantaire. “Don’t say I never gave you a picture of me.”

Grantaire glanced down at the photo, torn between amusement and exasperation when he saw the updated mugshot, clearly from his most recent arrest. He could just make out the shadow of the shiner ringing Enjolras’s eye, and the dark gray smear of blood from his split lip, but more importantly, Enjolras was grinning in the picture, that grin that he normally saved for when it was just the two of them together.

“I love it,” Grantaire told him, his voice thick. “I love—” He broke off, glancing sideways at the other folks greeting people from the bus. “I love it,” he repeated. “How did you manage to get your hands on a copy?”

“I asked,” Enjolras said nonchalantly. “And when that didn’t work, I told them that denying me a copy was a violation of my Sixth Amendment rights by denying me evidence of my physical state upon arrival.”

Grantaire cocked his head. “It’s been awhile since I studied the Bill of Rights, but—”

“Oh, yeah, I made it up,” Enjolras said with a grin. “But they didn’t know that, so they reluctantly agreed, with one condition.”

“What’s that?”

Enjolras’s grin widened before he said, with a terrible attempt at an affected Southern drawl, “That I remove myself from the fine city of Birmingham and never return.”

Grantaire whistled. “They drive a hard bargain.”

“They have no way of enforcing it,” Enjolras assured him.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Because that’s what I was concerned about,” he huffed under his breath. He ran his finger across the photograph before asking, deliberately casual, “So how’d you get the shiner? Same way you got the fat lip?”

Enjolras’s expression softened. “Could’ve been worse,” he repeated quietly.

Another argument neither of them were ever going to win, as both had drastically different ideas of what ‘worse’ looked like. Instead, Grantaire took a deep breath before saying, in a somewhat hollow attempt at a joke, “People are gonna think I beat you.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Wouldn’t they be surprised by the reality,” he murmured, his voice pitched low, and Grantaire glanced up at him, a smile finally breaking across his face.

“Don’t give me any ideas,” he said, matching Enjolras’s pitch. “In fact, we should probably get out of here before one of us says something out loud that we shouldn’t.”

Enjolras smirked. “Tease.”

Still, the walk to Grantaire’s car was spent in companionable silence, and when they got to the car, Grantaire held the door open for Enjolras. “After you, Honey Bunch,” he said sweetly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but with obvious affection. “Thanks, Sugar Pie,” he drawled, but his sarcasm was belied by the way he took Grantaire’s hand after he got in the car, running his thumb across Grantaire’s knuckles.

Again silence fell between them, until Grantaire asked, not looking away from the road, “Do you at least feel like it made a difference?”

Enjolras sighed. “Less than you’d probably want,” he said. “But more than you’d probably let yourself believe.”

Grantaire nodded slowly before asking quietly, “Do you think you’ll ever fight for us one day?”

Enjolras didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. “I think it’s all part of the same fight,” he said finally, after a long moment. “Fighting for the rights of one advances the rights of us all. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day.” He glanced over at Grantaire. “What about you?”

Grantaire half-smiled. “Maybe not today,” he said. “Maybe not tomorrow.” He squeezed Enjolras’s hand. “But one day.”

“Yeah?” Enjolras asked, a little hopefully.

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah.” He paused before adding, “After I get home and get that mugshot framed, anyway.”

Enjolras barked a laugh and scrubbed his free hand across his mouth. “Priorities.”

Grantaire glanced over at him, grinning. “What can I say,” he said. “I can’t help myself.”

— — — — —

Grantaire reached out to carefully adjust the framed mugshot, knocked out of place by one of the unusual amount of guests in the house, no doubt. His hands were more gnarled now, the beginning of liver spots showing on their backs as he straightened the frame, and his reflection in the glare of the glass showed streaks of silver in his hair.

The mugshot was one of mange hanging on the wall, most of Enjolras, but more than a few of Grantaire through the years. But no matter how many he had accumulated, this one would always be his favorite.

He traced a finger across Enjolras’s face in the picture, pausing when he heard someone behind him. “You ready, Sugar Pie?”

Grantaire smiled just as he had back in 1965 whenever he saw Enjolras, and he turned to face him, eyeing him appreciatively in his tux. Enjolras’s hair was almost fully gray now, but to Grantaire, that just made him even sexier “You know it, Honey Bunch,” he said, smoothing a hand down the front of his own tux. “After 50 years, I’m definitely ready.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, matching Grantaire’s smile. “Because, if I may, I love you, and nobody else.”

“I sure as shit hope so,” Grantaire said with a laugh. “I’m still surprised Courfeyrac managed to throw all this together as soon as the Supreme Court handed down the opinion in Obergefell.”

“Please,” Enjolras scoffed. “I think he started planning our wedding in 1965.”

“He’s not the only one,” Grantaire said softly. He held his hand out to Enjolras, the feeling of Enjolras’s hand strong and sure in his own as familiar as coming home. “And I’m not going to wait anymore. Because…”

He trailed off, and Enjolras sighed good-naturedly, almost certainly dreading where this was headed as he prompted, “Because?”

Grantaire grinned and lifted Enjolras hand to his mouth to press a kiss to his finger, where he would be putting a ring soon enough to commemorate 50 years of love, and torturing Enjolras with this song. “I’m in a fool in love, you see.”

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #1960s au #established relationship #ask #answered #handahbear #spotify wrapped meme #ask meme #fic meme

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kjack89 · 1 year

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ooh, 7 e/R for the spotify wrapped meme? :)

7. "Yoü and I" by Lady Gaga.

E/R, modern AU.

Even though it had been two years since he’d last set foot in the Musain, the familiar jingle of the bell when Enjolras opened the door still sounded like coming home. He had barely taken two steps into the bar when he heard a low whistle as familiar as the bell above the door, and it also felt a lot like coming home. “Batten down the hatches, boys,” Grantaire crowed with a grin, even though at 2 in the afternoon, there were only a handful of people to even hear him. “Trouble done just walked back into my life.”

Enjolras just shook his head, though he couldn’t stop his own grin from spreading across his face as Grantaire stepped out from around the bar. “I’ll take it Bossuet made you watch Sweet Home Alabama again recently?”

Grantaire scowled. “Excuse me, ‘made’ me?” he asked, mock-insulted, even as he pulled Enjolras into a hug and gave him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “I resent the implication that I am not capable of deciding to watch Reese Witherspoon’s best film all on my own.”

“I think most critics and Reese herself might disagree with that assessment,” Enjolras said mildly.

“They can have their incorrect opinion,” Grantaire said with a shrug. He gestured toward the bar. “Take a seat, I’ll bring your usual.”

Enjolras headed obediently toward the bar, sitting down on a bar stool as he remarked, “I wasn’t aware I had a usual.”

Grantaire just winked at him, and Enjolras’s stomach gave a traitorous little flip-flop. He watched, intrigued, as Grantaire bustled with something on the back of the bar before turning around to present a steaming mug with a flourish. “Irish coffee, hold the Irish.”

Enjolras laughed lightly. “Did you—”

“Put in enough sugar to give a bull elephant diabetes?” Grantaire finished, grinning as he leaned against the bar. “Of course. You know I know how you like it.”

Enjolras did know, just as he still knew Grantaire’s coffee order, and how he liked his pillows arranged on his bed, and the hundreds of other little details he’d learned from when they were together, the hundreds of other little details he would never forget, no matter how long they’d been apart.

He took a sip of coffee, closing his eyes as he savored the taste. When he opened them, Grantaire was still grinning at him, but something had softened in his expression. “What?” Enjolras asked, and Grantaire just shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just missed your face, that’s all.”

“But not the rest of me?” Enjolras teased, mostly to hide the way his heart leapt at the words.

Grantaire laughed. “Nah, I can do without most of the rest.”

Enjolras cradled the coffee mug between both of his hands. “So do you have a break anytime soon? I hate to monopolize you while you’re working.”

“Bullshit,” Grantaire said good-naturedly. “You love nothing more than work disruptions.” Still he crossed over to where the few other patrons were finishing their drinks. “Give us a few minutes, would you?” he said. “Next round’s on me for the inconvenience.”

There was only mild grumbling as they stood and filed out, and Grantaire rolled his eyes, but with affection. “Perks of being a neighborhood bar,” he said, coming out from around the bar and crossing to the door to lock it before sliding onto the bar stool next to Enjolras. “And now you can monopolize me as you feel fit.”

Despite this being the exact reason why he’d came, Enjolras felt suddenly strangely tongue-tied. “So Courfeyrac told me you bought the place,” he said finally.

Grantaire shrugged, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, you know. When Madame Houcheloup decided to sell, I figured, fuck it.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “The basis of all good business decisions.”

“Like you would know,” Grantaire shot back.

It was exactly like old times, exactly as if Enjolras had never left two years ago. “Touché.”

Almost as if he sensed Enjolras thoughts, Grantaire looked away and cleared his throat before continuing, “But in any case, there was no way I could let her sell this place.”

“Too many memories,” Enjolras said softly.

“Yeah,” Grantaire said. “Like the time I took your virginity on that couch.”

Enjolras choked on his sip of coffee. “That is emphatically not what happened,” he spluttered with a laugh.

Grantaire grinned. “C’mon. We all know that what happened with you and Combeferre when you were both 16 doesn’t count.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “You’re using a very loose interpretation of ‘we all’.”

Grantaire just shrugged blithely. “Maybe so.”

It was Enjolras’s turn to clear his throat, to steer things away from touching too closely on what they’d had – what they’d been. “Well the bar looks great,” he said, surprised to find he meant it. “Still feels like home.” He hesitated. “Dare I ask what you did with our meeting room?”

Grantaire brightened. “Oh, that’s the best part,” he said, hopping off his bar stool. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He held his hand out to Enjolras, who took it, letting Grantaire lead him to the back room, treading the same familiar path they’d walked hundreds of times before.

But the back room looked nothing like the dingy space they’d used, which had the main benefit of being free as long as they bought drinks and kept the noise mostly down. Now, it was bright and airy, with a small stage along one wall, books and art supplies along another, and even a few computers set up in the corner.

“Turned it into a community meeting center,” Grantaire told him as Enjolras looked around, impressed. “There’s a little library with all kinds of anti-racist and pro-trans propaganda. Jehan leads a poetry workshop twice a month, and Feuilly has a weekly art class that he teaches.” He shrugged as if it was nothing. “And of course we do a monthly drag reading hour for the kids.”

Enjolras nodded approvingly. “Any threats?”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Yeah but you know Bahorel thrives on that shit,” he said brightly. “Last time he did a TikTok basically daring the proud boys to show up.”

“Of course he did,” Enjolras said with a laugh.

Grantaire grinned. “Thankfully they didn’t, and Cosette had a really great story time.”

Enjolras frowned slightly. “Cosette?”

“She wanted to try being a drag king.”

Enjolras considered that mental image for a moment. “How’d that go?”

Grantaire laughed. “She loved it. Marius…I mean, he might’ve started the evening as a 0 on the Kinsey Scale but he definitely did not end that way.”

He sounded almost gleeful and Enjolras could only imagine. Still, he couldn’t help but counter. “Please. Marius lived with Courfeyrac for like 3 years. There’s no way he was ever a 0 on the Kinsey Scale.”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably not wrong.”

“Well this is really incredible,” Enjolras told Grantaire, sincerity in every word. “You’ve done amazing work.”

Grantaire waved him off, gesturing for them to head back to the bar. “Thanks,” he said, a little gruffly. “And we, uh, we might be expanding.”

“Really?”

Grantaire nodded as they sat back down at the bar. “Rumor has it Mabeuf is thinking of selling the Corinthe.” His grin turned sly. “We had some good memories there too, remember?”

“How could I possibly forget?” Enjolras said dryly. “That time where we got arrested?”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “Oh, I was actually thinking of that other time that we got arrested. Or maybe, uh—”

“That time?” Enjolras supplied, grinning as well.

“When we got arrested?” Grantaire said, and they both laughed.

Enjolras shook his head. “Our ill-spent youth.”

Grantaire’s smile slipped just slightly. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t seem all that ill-spent looking back on it.” Enjolras didn’t know what to say, and stared down into his mug of coffee until Grantaire added, “And I definitely don’t think we were all that young either.”

Enjolras laughed again and Grantaire smiled at him before saying, in an attempt at casual, “All that said, I doubt you came all this way just to take a look at the bar.” He arched an eyebrow at Enjolras. “So why are you here?”

“For starters, you still make a killer cup of coffee,” Enjolras said, lifting his mug in a mock-toast. Grantaire’s expression didn’t change, and he sighed. “Truth be told, I’ve been thinking about us recently.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Enj—”

“You let me go when I needed to figure out what I really wanted to do with my life,” Enjolras said, hoping it didn’t sound rehearsed, even if he had gone over this twenty times in his head and twice with Combeferre before finally coming over. “And I’m not pretending that we can just jump back in, but I want us to try.”

Grantaire shook his head slowly. “Enjolras, when you left—” He broke off with a sigh. “We left things between us on the best possible note. Why would you want to ruin that now?”

“I didn’t come here to ruin anything,” Enjolras said quietly.

“Then maybe it’s time to let things go,” Grantaire said with a sigh. “What you and I had—” His tone turned wistful. “I’m not gonna pretend like I don’t miss it, but it’s not as simple as you walking back into this bar and us trying again. It’s been two years. We’re both different people now.”

“Maybe,” Enjolras said. “But in my case at least, different means better. And I want the chance to prove that to you.” Grantaire was silent and Enjolras hesitated before adding, “I know what mistakes I made last time, and I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m not going to make the same mistakes this time.”

Grantaire sighed again and shook his head slowly. “I do believe you,” he said softly. “I’ve always believed in you. But it’s not so simple—”

“It is,” Enjolras interrupted. “This time it is.”

“Enj—”

“The mistake that I made last time was leaving without you,” Enjolras told him. “And I’m definitely not making that mistake every again.”

Grantaire snorted but didn’t quite meet his eyes as he said, “Then you’re gonna be here an awfully long time.”

Despite himself, Enjolras smiled, just slightly. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s kind of the point.”

Something in his tone seemed to take Grantaire aback, and he frowned. “What do you mean?”

Enjolras met his eyes squarely. “I mean what I said. I’m not leaving without you this time.”

Abruptly, Grantaire stood, making his way behind the bar and grabbing a rag like he was going to start cleaning, though he just twisted it between his hands as if he needed something to do with them. “Enjolras, as romantic as it may be in the movies to swoop back in someplace and whisk some guy you used to fuck away to the big city with you, reality’s a little different.” Enjolras started to interrupt, but Grantaire didn’t let him. “I own this place, and I know it’s not the amazing living you’ve made for yourself, but it’s mine and I love it. I’m not just going to pack up and leave because you came back and– and smiled at me.”

He obviously hadn’t meant to end on that note, and despite everything, Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Smiled at you?” he repeated.

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “What can I say, I’m still a weak man,” he said.

Enjolras nodded slowly. “A weak man without great comprehension skills to boot.”

Grantaire scowled. “What—”

“I know you’re not going anywhere,” Enjolras told him. “I know you’ve made a life for yourself.” Grantaire still looked confused, and Enjolras reached out for his hand, his heart beating double-time when Grantaire let him take it. “I’m not asking you to come away with me. I’m asking to be a part of it.”

For a moment, Grantaire still looked confused, but then realization dawned on Grantaire’s face. “This time you’re not leaving without me.”

Enjolras nodded. “Exactly.”

A slow grin started to spread across Grantaire’s face before it faltered. “But what about your life in the city?”

Enjolras shrugged. “It wasn’t what I wanted,” he said simply. “Besides, there’s so much organizing work that needs to be done in the suburbs, exurbs and rural areas ahead of 2024, and—”

“And I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it,” Grantaire interrupted, but his smile was gentle as he raised their clasped hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to Enjolras’s knuckles. “So you’re really back.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said softly. “Yeah, I’m home.”

Now Grantaire’s smile was blinding, and Enjolras let himself grin as well, leaning in to close the space between them, to finally do what he’d wanted to do ever since he saw Grantaire again, to—

Someone pounded on the door and Grantaire groaned. “Clearly our 15 minutes are up,” he said, but he was still grinning.

“Capitalism once again ruins everything,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed as he stood.

“Well,” he said, reaching out to cup Enjolras’s cheek, “maybe not everything.”

He kissed the top of Enjolras’s head and went to unlock the door. Enjolras stood, figuring he should probably leave, but Grantaire frowned at him as he returned to the bar. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I was just—”

“Sit your ass back down,” Grantaire whispered. “Musichetta’s shift starts at 5, and then you’re gonna take me to dinner.”

Enjolras hesitated. He had a million and one things that he needed to do, and— “Enjolras,” Grantaire said quietly. “You said you weren’t going to make the same mistakes.”

“And I’m not,” Enjolras promised. He drained his mug of coffee. “And in that case, I’ll have another.”

Grantaire grinned again. “Your usual, coming right up,” he said.

Enjolras grinned as well as he watched Grantaire pouring him another cup of coffee. They still had a lot to talk about, but Enjolras was a man of his word, and he’d never anything more than what he’d promised Grantaire.

This time, he wasn’t leaving without him.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #fanfiction #les miserables #modern au #reunion #former relationship #but is it really former?#ask #answered #stoppit-keepout #hey nonny #spotify wrapped meme #fic meme #ask meme

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