#ExR-Commiseration

[evanderofscots]

Commiseration || Evander & Roberto

IT WAS NOT uncommon for Evander to be found in the scotch room all hours of the night, staying long past when most of the other men had returned to their wives and the festivity had died down, and tonight was no different. if anything it was worse for the fact that he’d been very publicly defeated by a girl today, and many of the men hadn’t been able to shut up about it. He’d been glad when several of his peers had departed, leaving a quieter environment. Evander took another swig of ale as he surveyed the remaining men in the room, his eyes landing on one nearby who was as good as any. He sauntered over and made himself comfortable in the seat across from him, “ Would you care for another round of cards, lad? ” He asked cordially, “ And another round of whiskey, ” He stated, waving for it to be brought by the servants who were certainly more than ready for the men to head to bed themselves, but Evander did not care.

@buonoroberto​

[kjack89]

I put it in the mentions but in case you needed it as an ask: 35 for E/R please?

35. "December, 1963 (Oh What a Night)" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

ExR, developing relationship, modern AU.

“I don’t want to go.”

Grantaire knew he was whining, but he didn’t care. Besides, he figured his whining was muffled enough to just sound like regular petulance, given that he was facedown on Joly’s bed.

“Then don’t go,” Joly said evenly, leaning down so he could see his reflection in the mirror as he tied his tie. “As I said before, I’m not making you go with me.”

Grantaire sat up and scowled at him. “No, but if I don’t go, you’re leaving me alone in your apartment all night. Which sort of defeats the point of me coming to visit you for the holidays.”

Joly rolled his eyes affectionately, leaning over Grantaire to grab his suit jacket from where it was laid out on the bed. “As memory serves, the point of you coming to visit me for the holidays was to have an excuse not to have to go home to your parents,” he said. “And because you wanted to meet my boyfriend. The fact that med school scheduled their holiday mixer for when you would be in town is pure happenstance.”

“Speaking of the boyfriend,” Grantaire started, and Joly gave him a look.

“You can stop calling him ‘the boyfriend’ and start calling him by his name,” he said dryly. “Which is Bossuet, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Which you told me was a nickname, in case you’ve forgotten,” Grantaire shot back, sticking his tongue out at Joly like they were back in elementary school together. “Besides, I’ll call him by his name when I finally get a chance to meet him. Which leads me back to my original segue – why isn’t the boyfriend accompanying you to this super exciting mixer?”

Joly sighed, just a little wistfully, as he perched on the edge of the bed to tie his shoes. “He has a final scheduled for 8 a.m. tomorrow morning,” he told Grantaire. “Rescheduled, actually. Part of the roof collapsed in the classroom the first time around, so they had to postpone the exam.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “The roof collapsed and the professor didn’t even cancel the exam?”

“Nope,” Joly said. “Bossuet’s in good spirits about it, at least. Says with his luck, he’s surprised it didn’t collapse directly on top of him.”

“See, that’s why I need to meet him,” Grantaire said. “We can commiserate over our lousy luck.”

Joly gave him a look. “Yeah, except that Bossuet actually is unlucky, and your ‘bad luck’ is almost exclusively of your own making.”

“Harsh but fair.”

“Anyway, if the threat of being left alone with your thoughts all evening isn’t motivation enough, I have it on very good authority that this little holiday mixer comes with an open bar.”

Grantaire immediately brightened. “Well why didn’t you say that before?” he demanded, standing up to check his reflection in the mirror and attempting to smooth his unruly curls with no luck. “You know there’s nothing I love more than an open bar.”

“Not even the guy you drove five hours to hang out with,” Joly murmured sourly.

“Oh, cheer up, Jolllly,” Grantaire said, swooping in to kiss his cheek before grabbing his coat. “You know there’s no one I would rather get absolutely plastered for free with.”

Joly huffed a sigh, grabbing his own coat before following Grantaire outside. “Why does not that not reassure me.”

----------

“Initial impressions?” Joly asked in an undertone as he surveyed the room, nervously stirring his vodka soda.

Grantaire took a swig of his drink. “A decent pour,” he said. “Not the best quality, but I can only imagine they were anticipating folks caring more about quantity than quality.”

Joly elbowed him in the ribs. “I meant, you know, any initial impressions of my classmates, or professors or anything relevant to my life.”

“Well it’s not quite the cast of Grey’s Anatomy, but I see a few folks I wouldn’t mind making a drunken mistake with,” Grantaire said, smirking when Joly sighed exasperatedly. “C’mon, what do you expect me to say? We’ve been here five minutes and said hi to a half dozen people. Not exactly a lot to go on as far as first impressions are concerned.”

“Still, based on everything I’ve been telling you,” Joly started, but Grantaire stopped listening as soon as he caught sight of the ungodly beautiful blond man who had just walked through the door, wearing a bright red peacoat.

Grantaire was fairly certain his mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t care. This was easily one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen with his own two eyes, and he was standing in the same room as Grantaire, glancing around as if a little unsure of himself.

“Who is that?” he hissed to Joly, who broke off mid-sentence, looking equal parts confused and annoyed.

“Who is…” Joly trailed off, following Grantaire’s line of sight. “Someone very clearly out of your league.”

Grantaire couldn’t even bring himself to scowl, too busy trying to decide on his best opening line. “Seriously, what’s his name?”

Joly shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “He must be someone’s guest, like you.”

“Excellent,” Grantaire said briskly. “That means if he shoots me down, I don’t have to worry about making things awkward between you and a classmate.”

“If he shoots—” Joly gave Grantaire a look. “You’re really going to try this? Given your luck?”

Grantaire just winked at him. “I think my luck’s changing,” he said, clapping Joly on the shoulder before tossing back his drink and making his way over to the blond, setting his empty glass down on a tray on his way.

If possible, the man was even more gorgeous up close, and any of Grantaire’s clever lines had long since fled by the time he reached him, leaving him with one tried and true approach: “Can I buy you a drink?”

The blond gave him a brief, searching look, and Grantaire felt himself color, just slightly. “Isn’t it an open bar?” he asked, just a little coolly.

Grantaire wasn’t deterred. “Can I procure you a drink, then?”

“Why do I have the feeling if I say no, you’re going to get me a drink anyway?” the blond asked, sounding equal parts amused and exasperated.

Grantaire smirked. Two sentences in, and this man knew him so well already. “Are you going to answer every one of my questions with a question?”

“Are you?”

“Didn’t I ask you first?” Grantaire shot back, watching the man scowl, just slightly, as he clearly tried to come up with a response that was another question. “But to answer your question, I’m not really big on forcing alcohol on someone who doesn’t want it.” The blond’s eyes snapped to his, and Grantaire shrugged. “Kind of has rape-y vibes, and seeing as how I would love to see you naked at some point this evening, I’d rather keep the lines of consent very clear.”

The blond arched one perfect eyebrow, but to Grantaire’s relief, he looked more amused than offended. “I’ll take it you’re not one for beating around the bush.”

“Sometimes I am,” Grantaire said with another shrug. “But I’m not in town for long, so I figured if I was gonna shoot my shot, I might as well just go for it.”

The blond nodded slowly. “I didn’t think you looked like a med student.”

Grantaire’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.”

“Could go either way, I suppose,” the blond said, with just the hint of a smirk.

“And if I were to say that you don’t seem much like a med student either?”

The blond shrugged. “I’d say you were correct,” he said. “I’m here with a med student, Combeferre.”

He gestured over Grantaire’s shoulder, and Grantaire turned to glance at the sandy-haired guy with glasses who was standing nearby, clearly pretending like he wasn’t listening to every word of their conversation. “He’s cute.”

“His boyfriend thinks so, too.”

Grantaire gave the blond a startled look. “So you and he aren’t…?”

The blond snorted. “No. God no. There was like a week, back in high school, where we thought maybe, but, uh, it didn’t really work out.” He gave Grantaire a questioning look. “I’ll assume you’re not dating whomever you accompanied this evening because then you would in fact be the world’s biggest asshole instead of just pretending like you are.”

“Again, can’t tell if that’s a compliment or insult,” Grantaire said mildly.

The blond raised both eyebrows. “You think being told you’re acting like an asshole is a compliment?”

“The way you say it?” Grantaire murmured, smiling when the blond blushed, just slightly. “Anyway, no, I am also accompanying a friend. Though I’d much rather be accompanying you. Maybe to the bathroom, for a quickie in the stall?”

He waggled his eyebrows at the blond, who wrinkled his nose. “Remember where I said you were acting like an asshole?”

“Yeah, but the way I see it, if you weren’t at least a little bit into it, you’d’ve told me to fuck off by now,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Or decked me in the face. Or both.”

The blond didn’t smile. “And what if I didn’t feel comfortable telling you to fuck off out of fear of what your reaction would be?”

“Then I owe you an apology for giving you such a wrong impression,” Grantaire said evenly, fairly certain that this was a test more than anything else. “Say the word and I’m gone. I can’t promise I won’t pine after you from across the room all evening, but that’s my problem, not yours.””

A small, sharp smile lifted the corners of the blond’s mouth. “Well, there’s no need to go that far.”

Grantaire grinned, more than a little relieved. “See, I knew you were a little bit into it.”

The blond shrugged, his smile softening, just slightly. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“Well, thank God I’ve got all evening to get you the rest of the way there,” Grantaire murmured.

The blond’s smile widened. “And here I was worried I’d be bored all night.”

“Not if I can help it.”

The blond cleared his throat. “So about that drink…”

Grantaire nodded and gave him a small mock-bow. “My wish is your command,” he said, offering the blond his arm. “You strike me as a vodka guy, but I think you’re just waiting for the right whiskey to win you over.”

“I’ll take it you’re the whiskey in this scenario?” the blond asked dryly, taking his arm. “Who knows, maybe it is time I tried something different.”

Grantaire grinned. “Oh, uh, I’m Grantaire, by the way,” he said in what he was sure was a painfully offhand kind of way.

The blond smiled as well. “I’m Enjolras.”

Enjolras, Grantaire mouthed to himself, every syllable feeling like it had always belonged on his lips. “And I am very glad that I was talked into coming this evening.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras said, half-smiling. “So am I.”