#grantaire x the idea of dating someone who is not enjolras

[kjack89]

Ooh, prompt for "I never stood a chance, did I?"

ExR (ish), Grantaire x folks who are, unfortunately to him most of all, not Enjolras, modern AU. Not sure any of them ever stood a chance. 

To say that a hush fell over the assembled crowd in the back room of the Musain when Grantaire walked in holding the hand of an unknown guy was probably an exaggeration, but not by much. All eyes were seemingly on both of them as they made their way to a table, and only picked up again when both sat.

Courfeyrac, always one for the latest in gossip, quickly headed over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. “Who’s the new guy?” he asked, sitting down next to Joly. 

Bossuet shrugged. “Dunno,” he said unconcernedly. “Grantaire hasn’t deigned to introduce us yet. Probably afraid we’ll scare him away.” He sniffed, clearly insulted. “As if he isn’t capable of that on his own.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Courfeyrac said, glancing over at Grantaire and his new beau with a look of mild curiosity. “So how long do you think this one will last?”

Joly just snorted, not even bothering to look up from his phone. “Five dates,” he said, a mix of grim and resigned. “It’s always five dates.”

“You never know,” Bossuet said bracingly, ever the optimist. “Maybe this one will be different.”

Joly gave him a look. “Five dates,” he repeated flatly.

“What’re we betting on?” Bahorel asked, leaning back in his chair and interjecting himself smoothly into the conversation.

“We’re not betting on anything—“ Joly started, but Bossuet cut him off.

“Over/under on how long Grantaire and his new lover will last,” he said, nodding in Grantaire’s direction. “Line is 5 dates.”

Bahorel gave Grantaire and his new man a quick once over. “I’ll take the under.”

Joly scowled. “We’re not betting.”

“I’ll take those odds,” Feuilly said, not even bothering to pretend he hadn’t been eavesdropping, offering his hand for Bahorel to shake.

“Same,” Bossuet said with a firm nod.

He looked pointedly at Joly, who rolled his eyes. “I’m sticking with five. It’s always five.”

“Fine,” Bossuet said, sticking his tongue out at him. “But when I win, I’m saying ‘I told you so’.”

Joly didn’t look worried. “And when I win,” he said, “I look forward to taking your money.” He took a sip of his beer before adding, “Easiest twenty bucks I ever made.”

----------

Exactly four Les Amis meetings later, Grantaire turned up dateless. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him,” Bossuet said, a little desperately.

Grantaire shrugged. “It just...didn’t work out.”

Joly met Bossuet’s eyes, something like satisfaction in his expression. “Oh no,” he said. “That’s too bad. We really liked him.”

He didn’t sound remotely convincing, but Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, just shrugging and watching Enjolras stand up at the front of the room. “I’m sure you’ll survive,” he said, a little vaguely.

Bossuet leaned over, surreptitiously sliding a twenty dollar bill to Joly. “I know, I know,” he muttered. “You told me so.”

Joly just shook his head, pocketing the money. “It’s always five dates,” he said with a sigh.

----------

The five date rule – as Joly called it, though Grantaire stubbornly insisted it was more of a five date guideline than anything – started because of Enjolras.

Grantaire had been casually seeing a perfectly lovely woman who had seemed, at least that far, willing to overlook his many glaring flaws, and brought her to a Les Amis meeting for their third date. And then their fourth. 

And it was on their fifth date that Enjolras, who had never quite grasped the concepts of ‘casual’ or ‘subtle’, had remarked, a little sourly, “I’ll take it she’s going to become a regular attendee, then?”

Needless to say, she never came back after that.

Joly postulated that the cycle went something like this: Grantaire met someone and managed to convince them to agree to a date. On said date, Grantaire was his most charming, and funny, and it was enough to secure a second date, and then a third, which was usually when he brought them to a Les Amis meeting. The third date, of course, by the unwritten rules of the universe, was also the date where sex happens. After having sex, Grantaire panicked because this person wasn’t the person he would actually like to be having sex with, and desperately initiated another date in hopes that he’ll convince himself to have feeling for this person instead, and thus there was a fourth date. The fifth date was one final attempt to convince himself that this could work, and they parted ways after that.

Grantaire, on the other hand, maintained that said cycle took far too much forethought, and he had never once been accused of thinking that far ahead. Instead, he told anyone who asked that he just got bored after five dates, and when he found someone who captured his interest, it would last far longer.

But it was, of all people, Combeferre who nailed it most succinctly.

“It’s because of Enjolras,” Combeferre told Bossuet late one evening when Grantaire and Joly had gone to get refills after discussing Grantaire’s latest disastrous dating attempt. 

“What do you mean?” Bossuet asked, curious, and not just because Combeferre normally considered himself above the whole nonsense of Enjolras, Grantaire, and the never ending dance they both pretended not to notice they were doing.

“It takes five dates for Enjolras to notice that Grantaire’s been dating someone,” Combeferre said simply. “And once Enjolras notices, Grantaire has no need to keep the charade going.”

Bossuet considered it for a moment. “Do you think he knows?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “Enjolras, or Grantaire?” Bossuet shrugged and Combeferre sighed. “Grantaire might, though he would undoubtedly deny it.”

“And Enjolras?” Combeferre gave him a look and Bossuet chuckled lightly. “Fair enough.” He lifted his beer to take a sip before remembering it was empty and setting it back down again. “So who’s going to tell one or both of them?”

“Not it,” Combeferre said instantly, and Bossuet smirked.

“Looks like it’s gonna be Joly’s job.”

Combeferre shrugged. “Maybe,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to tell Joly.”

Bossuet’s smile disappeared. “Goddamnit.”

----------

But then there was a woman who made it to six dates.

And then seven.

And even Joly had to admit that maybe he was wrong about the five date rule.

Combeferre wasn’t so quick to give up, just watching Grantaire with narrowed eyes as he held this woman’s hand. “What do you think of her?” he asked Enjolras in an undertone.

Enjolras blinked as he looked up from the journal article he had been reading. “Who?” he asked.

“Grantaire’s girlfriend,” Combeferre said, looking pointedly in Grantaire’s direction.

Enjolras’s expression froze. “Oh, uh, Fiona?” he said, a little too vague to be accidental.

“Floréal,” Combeferre corrected. “Though I’m pretty sure that’s a nickname.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Not a great nickname.”

Combeferre scowled. “And not exactly my point.”

“Then what was your point?” Enjolras asked, matching his tone.

“It’s about the fact that Grantaire seems like he might actually be getting serious about someone.”

“And?”

Combeferre arched an eyebrow. “And I can’t imagine you’re thrilled about that.”

For one long moment, Combeferre was certain that Enjolras was going to deny it, or feign ignorance, or shrug it off in one of a million ways he had in the past. But then he sighed and set his pen down. “He deserves to be happy,” he said quietly.

Combeferre just looked at him evenly. “So do you.”

Enjolras managed a smile and held up the journal article. “I have a protest to plan. You could say that I’ve never been happier.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s unusually abrupt, especially for you.” Combeferre didn’t so much as twitch and Enjolras sighed. “Fine, but I’m not the one who likes to brag about the size of my vocabulary.” He paused, looking over at Grantaire, his expression darkening slightly. “But I am. Happy, I mean. I love my work, and Grantaire…”

He trailed off and Combeferre shook his head. “If you think Grantaire loves this woman—”

“I don’t,” Enjolras said quickly – a little too quickly, and he looked away, his cheeks tinged slightly pink. “But maybe he should.”

It was Combeferre’s turn to debate between honesty and denial., but in the end, he just shook his head, his expression unreadable. “If that’s really what you think,” he said coolly.

Enjolras shook his head as well and went back to reading through the journal article. Or pretending to, at the very least, though he couldn’t help but look up at Grantaire several times. 

And needless to say, neither he nor Combeferre were particularly surprised when, a half hour later, just when it looked like Grantaire and  Floréal were getting ready to leave, Enjolras glanced up at him. “Are you leaving?” he asked.

“That was the plan,” Grantaire said, cocking his head slightly as he looked at Enjolras. “Why, what’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing,” Enjolras said, aiming for casual and missing by a mile. “I was just, um, I was hoping to borrow you. To critique my speech. If– if you don’t have anything better to do.”

“I don’t,” Grantaire said instantly, before realizing what he had said and coloring. “I mean…” 

“Go,” Floréal said with a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I think we can handle one night apart.” She kissed him on the cheek before grabbing her coat and heading out. Grantaire watched her leave for only a second before looking back at Enjolras, a small, slightly crooked smile spreading across his face as he did.

“So where do you want me?”

----------

Floréal looked resigned as she sat down next to Grantaire on the bench he had asked to meet her at in the park the following day. It had been where they first met, and she glanced a little ruefully at it before telling Grantaire, “I suppose it’s poetic, in a way. Ending things here, where they began.”

Grantaire winced. “Is it that obvious?”

“The ‘we should talk’ text did a lot of heavy-lifting for you,” Floréal said with a half-smile. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t see this coming before that.” She hesitated for a moment before asking, “I never stood a chance, did I?”

Grantaire sighed and looked away for a long moment before shaking his head and looking back at her. “If it makes you feel better, you came the closest.”

“But not close enough.”

Floréal didn’t sound upset when she said it, but Grantaire still looked pained. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Don’t be,” she said with a little laugh. “I think I knew all along.” She considered it for a moment. “Honestly, I think that was part of the appeal.”

Grantaire frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She trailed off before shaking her head again. “There was always an end date on this, and that meant I didn’t have to worry about commitment. After all, you always belonged to someone else. I could tell, even if I didn’t want to believe it.”

“I resent the implication that I belong to anyone,” Grantaire said lightly.

But Floréal didn’t rise to the bait. “Fine, maybe not you, but your heart at least belongs to someone else.”

Grantaire’s expression tightened. “Well, there is that.”

Floréal laughed again and patted Grantaire’s knee. This was a lot of fun, Grantaire.” She paused. “Well, maybe not this conversation, but the rest of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a look. “You said that already.”

Grantaire didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t choose this, you know,” he said, his voice low. “If I had a choice.”

Floréal shrugged. “You can’t choose who to fall in love with.” She gave him a pointed look. “But you can choose what to do about it.”

“What are you saying?” Grantaire asked.

“I’m saying maybe you should try to focus on the five dates with the person you actually want to be with, the five dates that would actually lead to more.”

Grantaire made a face. “It’s the one date that I’m worried about,” he told her honestly.

“And that is no longer my problem.” She stood, and Grantaire hurried to stand as well. “Best of luck, Grantaire – I mean it. I wish you nothing but the best.”

The smile he gave her was genuine, if a little rueful. “Same to you. I wish whomever you find will give you a lot more than five dates.”

“And I hope whomever I find will love me as much as you love Enjolras.”

Grantaire huffed a laugh and ducked his head. “So do I,” he said quietly. He gave her a little wave before he started in the opposite direction, his feet automatically taking him in the direction of the Musain and the inevitable five dates with the next placeholder until he was finally ready to see if he actually stood a chance of his own.

[aromantic-enjolras]

15 for the fic author asks :)

A Hollywood producer tells you that they want to film just one of your fics. Which fic would you want it to be?

Let’s put aside for a moment that I don’t trust Hollywood producers to not ruin everything they touch, okay? ;)

Most of my stories wouldn’t work as films, because it’s been years since I wrote anything that wasn’t a one-shot. So I guess my Harry Potter Pirate AU, because it’s the only long fic I’ve written? x) But more seriously, if I could make any of my plot bunnies into a film, it would probably be one I’ve had for a while and I’m not sure I’ll ever tackle...

It starts as a Fake Relationship AU. Enjolras is getting pressured by someone (a family member? This is based on a fic where it’s Cosette) to date, even though he’s perfectly fine on his own, if a bit of a workaholic. He asks Grantaire for help to get her off his back. They hit it off, they work better than anyone expected, and Enjolras is so happy, because he has never felt this at ease going through the motions of romance with someone (probably because it’s safe, because it’s fake). And then something happens, and it comes to light that Grantaire was in love with him the entire time, and thought this had become real somewhere along the way. They have a huge falling out, because of course it wasn’t real, what the hell?? Enjolras is devastated about losing someone he thought was becoming one of his best friends, and comes clean to the person who pushed him to the fake dating. She learns her lesson about meddling in other people’s lives, and between the two they device a plan for getting Grantaire back (as a friend). You could even use the plot beats of romantic comedies, with your big gestures and speeches...

I would LOVE to read such a story, and I doubt I’ll ever write it, so if you like the idea, please feel free to write it!!! I will love you until the end of time. <3

[oopshidaisyy]

July Fic Recs

a little late but here we go!

praying for sparks in the dark (in the heart) by susiecarter "Him," the Bat repeats, in a low and deceptively soft growl. "I don't know who he was," the man says immediately, taking this cue and running with it. "I don't, honest. Honest, I swear to god. Nobody did. He just showed up, that's all. Asking about you, asking everybody what they knew, if they'd ever seen you, what you'd done. Metropolis," the man adds belatedly. "He had that look, you know? Clean. Said his name was—Carr, or Kemp, or something. Something like that." (Or: in a universe where Bruce becomes aware that someone's looking into the Batman, he goes to the effort to track down Clark Kent. It doesn't play out quite the way either of them expected.) Clark/Bruce, 20k, E

having let go forever the fallacy of ever being alone by gyzym This time there are shitty dogeared paperbacks Arthur wouldn't be caught dead reading piled on the coffee table, and half-finished crosswords tucked into the bookshelves, and the far wall is hung with that tapestry they'd bought in a shit part of London on a whim. This time they've spent all day fixing their sink and there's a mug of yesterday's tea sitting on top of the television and it's not just Arthur's living room at all. Arthur/Eames, 16k, E

A Sure Thing by lightgetsin "Okay," Peter says, and there's a rasp in his voice. "Repeat after me: theft is not foreplay." Neal/Peter, 3k, E

perfect strangers by susiecarter Batman and Superman are fucking. Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are a great cover for fighting crime, and also might be dating. Bruce and Clark have no idea what they're doing; but they definitely aren't going to be able to talk themselves into stopping. Clark/Bruce, 15k, E

run to the river (dive in) by susiecarter MoS AU: With one successful fishing season already under his belt, Clark's finally getting comfortable on the Debbie Sue. He just wishes this guy Dixon hadn't signed on with them, because the way he watches Clark is really starting to give Clark the creeps. (Or: Bruce goes undercover looking for enhanced individuals before BvS instead of after—and finds one.) Clark/Bruce, 5k, M

Took Me By Surprise and Then by thehoyden After the second surgery in New York, Charles doesn’t anticipate anyone keeping vigil by his bedside — and certainly not Tony Stark. Charles/Erik, 5k, T

as to which may be the true by susiecarter It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face. Clark/Bruce, 53k, M

Blue Devils by VillaKulla /blo͞o ˈdevəl/ noun, inf: a feeling of despondency, depression, or low spirits origins: Old American West Billy/Goody, 4k, M

Spree by thingswithwings "So, okay, Britta," Annie says, "this thing you gave me is seriously just a scrap of ripped looseleaf that says 'IOU one shopping spree at A Woman's Touch.' I do not even know what that is." Britta does an excited little leap in the air and claps her hands. "It's me deciding to help you discover your true womanhood." Britta/Annie, 4k, E

embroidery appreciation by Annie D Written for an anon on tumblr who requested Natasha and Tony as brotp, or Steve/Tony being schmoopy in love. This is a bit of both. Tony & Nat, 1k, T

and every map is blank by gyzym It's -- topography, Carlos thinks, of a person, of two people, it's so complicated, it's so much easier to just go it by yourself. He doesn't want to hurt Cecil but he doesn't want to keep any part of himself from Cecil, either, and it scares him that that's true, and it scares him to know it's what Cecil wants. Carlos/Cecil, 7k, T

trothplight by arriviste “What a metaphor,” Grantaire said bitterly. “I may dress your windows, but no more. We’ll greet each other in the streets, but you won’t admit me to your chambers or your hearts. I know all the words, all the empty speeches one needs to mouth for membership – I can rattle them off as well as you. Want me to prate Hébert or praise the Supreme Deity? Quote Rousseau or Marat? I can mum them; I don’t, because I don’t mean them, and because I’m an honest sceptic, I’m untrustworthy.” Enjolras/Grantaire, 4k, E

A-Wing, X-Wing, Y-Wait, B-Mine (Please) by ester_inc Finn keeps finding himself in situations where – no, wait, let's start over. Poe keeps ending up shirtless, nearly shirtless, or soaking wet, and somehow Finn is always there when it happens. The universe is either taunting him with what he can't have or rewarding him for good behavior, and Finn can't decide which is more likely. Either way, he's emotionally unprepared for, oh, let's be honest here: Poe's entire existence. It's fine. No big deal. He's working on it. Finn/Poe, 7k, E

Just Give Me Moments by barricadeur Enjolras comes home from a protest to a not-empty apartment. --- "What happened?" Grantaire says. His other hand grips Enjolras's shoulder, as if to keep him from pulling back, but Enjolras is so tired that the energy necessary to break away seems monumental. He lets Grantaire inspect him, says only, "I hit my head." "On someone's fist?" Enjolras/Grantaire, 1k, T

The Rare Gift by triedunture The prompt was "Dean receives an . . . unusual . . . Christmas gift from Castiel." The gift turns out to be wings. Dean/Cas, 4k, M

i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands) by theappleppielifestyle Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York. It’ll be just like it could’ve been, Richie had said once. (Or, Eddie and Richie resume.) Richie/Eddie, 6k, M

i guess i should say thanks or some shit believe it or not, charles has a well-thought-out moral philosophy. he doesn’t follow it. but he has thought it out. alternatively: charles and erik douche it up in amsterdam. Charles/Erik, 17k, M

this is your sword, this is your shield by susiecarter Post-BvS, Diana and Lois start to develop a habit of protecting each other. But sometimes habits become ruts, and every now and then it's a good idea to break out of them. (Or: a whole bunch of times Diana and Lois looked out for each other, plus the time Lois ended up feeling like it might be worth it to be just a little less careful.) Diana/Lois, 9k, T

Family Portrait, c. 1840, oil on canvas by littlerhymes Lestat's latest favourite is a painter. Lestat/Louis, 2k, T

get religion quick (cause you’re looking divine) by brinnanza So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing. It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop. Aziraphale/Crowley, 4k, G

[softpanfanfics]

Study Night (Enjolras X Reader)

Hello, lovelies! I went to my friend’s house and we watched Les Mis and I was struck with inspiration. So I wrote a thing. I spent a while on this one, so I hope you like it! I do.

Description: You've begun to fall for someone in your study group. College AU.

Requested: No

Word Count: 940

Warnings: Bit of self-deprecation at the end, I’m posting this at midnight so probably some grammar errors

Date Posted: 6/24/2019

Masterlist

You were beat. College was hard. I mean, you knew it was going to be, but you had no idea it would be like this. You had stayed up all night finishing an assignment again, and you were exhausted. You wanted to stay in bed all day, but between classes and convincing your friends you were fine, there was no time. You gazed at your figure in the mirror. You had half-successfully covered up the bags under your eyes and no longer looked like you had just been crying. That was a good sign. You slipped on your cardigan and put on your boots. Your backpack felt like it was filled with bricks. That meant the book you were doing a report on was in it. Les Misérables was almost as heavy as your debt.

You arrived at The Musain Café and put on a smile. Ponine rolled her eyes at your lateness, but you were too tired to retaliate. Enjolras smiled at you as you sat down next to him. His cheeks were a light shade of pink, probably from the cold, and he looked cute. Your own cheeks flushed at the thought, so you decided to distract yourself. The group chatted about your classes and ordered coffee. You gulped yours down in traditional college student style.

“Someone’s tired,” Grantaire smirked.

“Aren’t we all?” You responded. The group nodded in agreement.

Soon enough the café was quiet, and everyone was working. After about an hour of reading and taking notes on the actions that Jackman took and the consequences they had on Anne’s life, the energy the coffee had given you was burnt out. You wanted to order another but didn’t want to break the silence. Just wait until someone else orders, or when the waitress asks if you want a refill. Then it wouldn't be awkward. You tried to focus on the pages in front of you, it was supposed to be an exciting scene after all, but your brain refused to function. You had read the book before and wanted to skip to when Aaron came in. You ended up thinking about him instead of the battle between Russel and Jackman.

You were sitting on a park bench next to Enj.

“(Y/N), can you go through one conversation without making it about a musical?” he laughed. You opened your mouth to make a reference, but he cut you off. “I’m warning you (Y/N/N).”

“I think I’ve got a crush! I can’t, I think I’m falling for him.” Enjolras stood up to leave. “Oh no,”

You chased after him and latched to his back. He turned to face you and pressed his lips t-

You woke up to the book being taken out of your hands.

“The frick?” you rubbed your eyes and glanced around at the empty chairs and tables.

“You fell asleep. I didn’t want you losing your page.” He put a bookmark in-between the pages and closed the book.

“Thanks for not folding it,” you muttered, still sleepy. “What time is it?”

“8:46. You look like you haven’t slept in ages. I’m driving you home.”

“You really don’t have to, I can walk.”

“I want to, it’s really no trouble!”

You sighed in defeat and packed your bag.

“What were you dreaming about anyway? You looked happy.” He asked now that you were in the car.

“You wouldn’t get it,” you smiled sadly.

“Try me.”

“I don’t know. It was kind of like this, I guess. I was with this guy.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “We were talking, just talking. It was nice. He’s really important to me. I mean like, he doesn’t notice me, and yet he’s so welcoming and friendly, and he’s made this past month so much easier. And I think he understood that! In the dream, I mean. He has no idea here. And-“ you realized you were rambling and your face got hot.

“Look, (Y/N). We all know you love Dan Howell.”

“No!” you shrieked as he laughed. “I’ll have you know; I was talking about a real, non-Youtuber person!” He looked at you and you panicked. “It’s not like it matters. He doesn’t even notice me. I mean, everyone flocks to him. He wouldn’t choose me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

“Really? I‘m just the English major who can’t even stay awake for study night! I can’t function without coffee. I can’t fall asleep at night. I procrastinate. I talk too little until I say too much! I ramble. And he listens! I mean, he’s so amazing and empathetic. He’ll listen to you talk for ages just because he likes seeing people passionate! He sticks up for what he believes in and never backs down. He’s charming and kind. He’s been an amazing friend and,” you put your head in your hands and groaned. “I like him a lot, Enj.”

“I need to meet him and see if he’s worth your time. I’m not letting you waste away for a piece of trash.”

“It doesn’t matter since he doesn’t like me.” He looked at you expectantly. Sighing in defeat, you opened your phone. “I’ll show you a picture of him if it matters so much to you.”

Now or never. You thought to yourself as you pulled up a selfie of the two of you. You handed your phone to him.

He glanced at the screen. “(Y/N/N), this is just a photo of us.”

You nodded and looked at your hands.

“(Y/N/N), you undermine yourself. Wanna get coffee sometime? Like, on a date?”

“Sure.” You smiled.

Comments are nice!

Should I make a part two?

[wilwywaylan]

A Kiss to build a Dream on

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern!AU because everything is fluffy and everyone lives, Feuilly x Enjolras, 3176 words.

Prompt was : “Things you said when sleeping” but then the plot bunny bit me.

Written for the Enjolras x Feuilly week

Also on AO3 !

The first thing that Enjolras noticed when he first met Jehan's good friend, was his very firm handshake. So firm, in fact, that he was tempted to check discreetly on the state of his fingers. But he didn't. Instead, he immediatly got swept in a profound discussion with the man about discrimination in the workplace. They stopped when Combeferre tapped him on the shoulder as he left, and that's only then that Enjolras realized that it was one in the morning and he'd spent all evening talking with his new friend, listening to him intently. Everyone had left, even Grantaire who usually was the last one to go home. They parted ways in front of the Musain, now closed and dark, but not before Enjolras managed to get the man's word that he would come to the next meeting.

He came to the next meeting, and the one after. Soon, Feuilly had become a fixture of their association, and even more, of their little group. He discussed art, litterature and philosophy with Grantaire and Jehan, medicine, sciences and the mysteries of nature with Joly, Musichetta and Combeferre, play-fought with Bahorel and Eponine and with them (or rather, fought), danced with Courf and let him play with his hair, talked in several languages with Marius, listened to all of Bossuet's puns, even the worst ones, and made a few of his own, cooked with Cosette and suggested her several recipes. He knitted everyone gloves and hats and scarves, illustrated Jehan's poems, took some boxing lessons with Bahorel and Grantaire, and baked Polish goods for their meetings.

And of course, he had long conversations with Enjolras, about the political or societal issue at hand. Enjolras was always pleased with those discussions, because Feuilly had very strong, interesting opinions, and his arguments were well-thought and precise. And he could talk about everything under the sun. Usually, their conversations started about the issues they faced or wanted to adress, and quickly moved from there, jumping from subject to subject. They could talk like that for hours, and frequently, they did, starting after the meeting and going on until they were finally thrown out of the Musain.

Enjolras loved those moments, when they had dealt with the sujets du jour, gotten everything ready for their next meeting, planned petitions, actions and rallies, and they finally unwound. The others enjoyed that time in their own ways, discussing and making fools of themselves - well, for some, making fools of themselves was their hobby -, playing cards or unwinding in various ways of various intensity. Feuilly was usually sitting at the back, watching the others. Sometimes, when he felt energetic enough, he joined them. On those days, Enjolras chatted with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, or watched Grantaire draw.

But often, Feuilly was content with staying back and watch. Enjolras poured them two cups of coffee and joined him. He had had troubles breaking the ice the first time ; talking was easy in front of a crowd, being full of passion and fury about a societal issue. But when they were just the two of them, he found out to be... way harder. Especially when Feuilly was looking at him like that without smiling. Just attentive golden eyes set on him. And just on him. He had tried to ask him his stance on the last work laws. What had come out of his mouth didn't really sound like any sound a human voice could make. Luckily, Feuilly not only didn't mind, but had seemed to understand what he was trying to communicate, and answered in jest. And soon they were caught up in a deep conversation.

They did it again the next time. And the one after that. Soon, it became a routine, a routine Enjolras appreciated immensely. Feuilly was good company : never judging, never screaming, never setting things on fire. He always talked in the same even tone, and if he swore a lot in colorful ways, sometimes in other languages, and if sometimes his voice became cutting as steel, he never screamed or yelled. And he had oh so many interesting opinions ! Enjolras could have stayed like that, listening to him for hours. The end of their little sessions left him wanting for more, always.

But how could he have more ? They already spent hours talking, after all meetings. They couldn't start eating at their meeting time. Not only did they still have work to do, but the others wouldn't let them hear the end of it. Especially Bahorel, who loved almost nothing more than poke fun at his roommate. Enjolras could have asked Courfeyrac, but to the same result. He mulled over the idea until it finally dawned to him : maybe they could see each other out of meeting time ! It was so easy, a perfect idea ! To be fair, it was 3 AM when it dawned on him, and it seemed like a genius idea at the time.

Now that he finally knew what to do, there was a new obstacle : actually do it. It meant actually invite him. Going to Feuilly, tell him that he wanted to spend more time with him. Feuilly would know that Enjolras was appreciating his conversation and company. Well, Enjolras hoped that he did. After all, he didn't want his friend to feel like he was bothering him, right ? But did Feuilly feel good about their talks, at least ? Or did he just humor him because he felt sorry for the blond kid who needed someone to entertain him, the one who clung to him because he showed him some attention ? Okay, that one wasn't really fair. After all, he did have qualities, didn't he ? Or he wouldn't have gathered a whole club around him, and such good friends. And Feuilly wasn't the kind of person to endure something that bothered him without telling it exactly like it was.

So it was more or less certain that Feuilly did really enjoy their moments together. But did he want more, too ? Or was he content with what they had ? Or did he want... less ? Maybe. Maybe he wanted to breath a little, spend time trying to pin Bahorel on the table for a count of three, or braid Jehan's hair with Cosette, or draw tarot cards with Musichetta, or read, or... anything else, really. Maybe he wanted some time for himself, he already had so few of it. Maybe he just didn't want to say it. When he came to that part of his reflexions, Enjolras invariably shook his head, chasing away the bad feeling squeezing his chest. No, if Feuilly really didn't enjoy their time together, he wouldn't have wasted time with him. Feuilly did like their time together. Feuilly did like... him ?

What ? Where did that come from ? That was... a logical course of thoughts, of course, Feuilly did seem to like him but... why did he think that ? Why did it come into the conversation like that ? And... why did it feel him with a strange feeling in his chest ? A strange, warm feeling that spread and make his heart beat a little faster. That was... strange. That was the kind of warm feeling Courfeyrac sometimes talked about, when he had seen someone he might fancy. Did that mean...? No, that couldn't be. Enjolras vowed to push the feeling under the rug and never, ever think about it again.

Finally, after a long, very long discussion with himself, Enjolras finally decided to take the step and invite Feuilly for coffee. He spent at least fifteen minutes trying to compose a message that wasn't too eager or distant, just casual enough. Not easy for someone who never did things casually. That wasn't him at all.  Enjolras did all things with fiery passion, and that included sending texts. But he had to rein himself a little. No need to scare him now.

The half-hour it took for Feuilly to answer was awful. More than awful. Enjolras had never felt so bad. Except maybe after a violent protest when he got most of his face bruised and couldn't even move because of broken ribs. Okay, so maybe he had already felt so bad, but not that kind of bad. Not the angry burning in his veins after a bad law was passed despite their efforts. Not the discouraging feeling of helplessness that sometimes took him in the middle of the night. Not even that gut-clenching feeling he got when he had to visit his parents' estate. Well, it had a hint of that, in the way his stomach seemed to be squeezed, but he was way more agitated than those times, feeling like pacing back and forth. And he sensed something light in his chest, and warm too.

The soft beeping of his cellphone startled him, and he almost dropped it in his haste to pull it out. He unlicked it with trembling hands. His heart was beating so wildly it was threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment. The letters danced in front of his eyes for a few seconds before settling into words. Two words, in fact. "okay" and "when ?". He re-read them twice. Feuilly had always been a man of few words. But those were positive words ! He agreed ! He wanted to see him outside of the ABC meetings ! He did want to spend more time with him ! If he managed to fix a date, of course. A coffee date, that would be perfect. Everyone knew Feuilly didn't time to indulge in anything else than reading in the subway and going to their meetings. A coffee date would be perfect for him. Five o'clock, after his shift, at the nicest coffee joint he knew, the one that had that fantastic organic coffee they both loved. He just needed to invite him. Which only took him three tries to manage to write something that could pass as relaxed. Once done, he carefully put the phone down. And prepared himself for the twenty-four anguished hours of waiting.

The next day, without fault, he was at the coffee shop. A glance at his watch showed him that he was fifteen minutes early. Well, good. He wouldn't miss the time by accident like this. Now he just needed to wait. He pulled up an article on his phone and started reading to pass the time, and forget about the pinch in his stomach. He tried not looking at the time too much, but it was hard. Minute by minute, it was passing. Five minutes left... then two... finally, five o' clock came... and went. And no Feuilly. Enjolras tried not to feel bad. Feuilly was a very busy man, and probably was running late because of work. Or the subway. Nothing bad. Of course.

Finally, while he was pondering on if sending a text would be seen as overbearing or annoying, Feuilly's beloved red and white hat appeared between two people, small orange curls escaping from the brim. Its owner made his way through the crowd, and Enjolras walked to meet him.

- You made it, he said, relieved.

- Of course I did, Feuilly answered. I told you I would.

- And I didn't doubt you.

That... sounded a little sappy, but Feuilly didn't seem to mind. Enjolras went to order their drinks, glad to have something to do. Feuilly almost jumped on the cup offered to him, warming his fingers on the cardboard.

The park on the other side of the road was not as packed as the sidewalk, and they walked along the path, side by side, enjoying their drinks and making small talk about their day. Enjolras couldn't help but steal little glances at Feuilly from time to time. He seemed to really appreciate his pumpkin spice latte - Enjolras had remembered it was his favourite -, drinking it slowly, his eyes even shining a little. The steam from the cup had turned his nose and cheeks a cute pink. He looked happy like that, perfectly content with the situation.

- Are you alright ? Feuilly suddenly asked.

Enjolras realized he must have zoned out and forgot to answer him.

- Ah, yes, he quickly said. I'm just... distracted. I think.

- Too much on your mind ?

- You can say that.

Too much, yes... But opposite to his usual preoccupations, his mind was now filled with the speckles of gold shining in Feuilly's eyes and dancing on his hair, and his relaxed smile, and the freckles scattered on his nose. And the way he talked.

They sat on a bench, side by side. Maybe a little closer than usual, since Feuilly's arm kept brushing against Enjolras' side, making him shiver. It wasn't due to a lack of space, of course, since they were the only ones sitting there. He tried to act casual, pulled a book out of his bag, opened it at the page with the bent corner and showed him the text he wanted his advice on. Feuilly immediatly dove in  - he couldn't resist a book - and started commenting along his reading. Enjolras was listening intently, as he always did, but his mind kept focusing on Feuilly's mouth. And he wondered how it would feel to kiss him. Would he feel all that passion, the fire he always put in his arguments ? Or just the coffee he drunk by the gallon ? Or something else, something purely Feuilly ?

And where did those ideas come from ? When did he go from spending time with his friend who he loved talking with, to wanting to kiss him and taste the pumpkin spice on his lips ? When did he start to want to kiss people anyway ? Well, if he had to choose someone to kiss, yes, maybe he would opt for Feuilly, because of all the reasons for which Feuilly was his beloved friend. Beloved, yes. That was the word. Precious. Valued. Irreplacable. Because Feuilly was nice and interesting, and ruthless when he needed or when some anvils had to be dropped, and always there when Enjolras needed him, whatever the reason. And he would probably be lost without him.

- Enjolras ? You there ?

A hand in an orange mitten waved in front of him, pulling him out of his reverie. He quickly smiled to reassure his friend :

- Yes, of course, I'm listening.

- Is there something in your mind ?

There was a hint of concern in his tone, and Enjolras felt guilty for worrying him. He could lie, of course, tell him that it was nothing concerning him, that he was alright. But Enjolras was never one to lie, not even on personnal matters. Of course, it could change everything. Feuilly might deem him disgusting, or at least, not want to hang out with him anymore. He might take his distances, and abandon their late-night talks. Enjolras wasn't ready to lose that, but he needed to do something, anything, to get rid of the weird sensation in his chest. All this went through his mind in a second, and decided him to answer :

- I was thinking... that I would like to kiss you.

All this considered, Feuilly looked... not too surprised. His eyebrow rose, and he nodded a little, but didn't run away or slap him.

- Kissing me ? he repeated.

- Yes. I've been thinking about it. Of course, he quickly added, I'm not saying that I asked you to come here just for this. I was very interested in getting your opinion on that text, really, and the idea has just crossed my mind, and...

He was rambling. Any second now, Feuilly would bolt out of his seat and run away and leave him with his half-drunk coffee, leaving only behind an empty cardboard cup and a smell of pumpkin and ink.

Feuilly didn't bolt. He didn't even scream or yell. He just looked at him with his usual half-smile, and waited for him to be done.

- Only you, he remarked, would try to justify wanting to kiss someone, and not kiss them.

- Of course not ! Enjolras cut him. I mean, how would I know you would consent to it ? I can't touch you like that, in that manner, without even asking about it first. This is...

- Are you really telling me kissing me without asking would be assault ?

- That's what it is.

This time, Feuilly let out a small laugh.

- You're... well you. Very you.

He sounded amused. Good. Enjolras wasn't sure he could handle Feuilly being angry, or hurt, but being laughed at, he could. Beside, Feuilly had a nice laugh. And a nice light in his eye when he was watching him like that, head tilted a little.

- So, Feuily asked, what would you do if I gave you consent ?

Enjolras couldn't do anything but gape at him. He knew his mouth was hanging open, and he was probably looking like a goldfish, but his brain was still trying to wrap around what had just been said. Consent ? Feuilly would consent ? He would ? Did he ...? It finally dawned on him : Feuilly had just said that he would agree to be kissed. That Enjolras could kiss him, and he wouldn't kick him or slap him or anything. That he wanted it.

He bent down, very slowly, attentive at any gesture Feuilly could make. But Feuilly didn't move, just waited. Their lips met briefly, just a small kiss, that sent sparks in all Enjolras' body. He didn't push it further, just enjoyed the contact. Judging by Feuilly's now full smile, he had enjoyed it too.

They looked at each other for a moment, perfectly still. Enjolras was not too sure of what to do. Kiss him again ? Ravish him on that bench ? Take back the book like nothing happened ? He was still wondering when Feuilly moved. He grabbed Enjolras' coffee, took a sip. His other hand grabbed Enjolras' and squeezed.

- I would love to stay here and kiss you again, he said, especially when you look so cute like this, but it's starting to get cold. What do you think of going to your place, and read a little more ?

Only then Enjolras noted that Feuilly's nose and ears were red with the cold. His were probably too, judging by the burning sensation on his skin. He got up, grabbed his bookbag, waited for Feuilly to do the same. As they walked away, Feuilly took his hand, interlacing their fingers together. Enjolras handed him the coffee. They would have to talk, of course, just to know where they were going with that, what was awaiting them beyond that kiss. But for now, holding his hand and watching him, that was all Enjolras wanted.

[throughthefumes]

neither lost nor found viii

Days passed before Enjolras got the nerve to contact Grantaire. He’d spoken with his mother and set things straight, and felt the need to reassure him that everything was taken care of. He seemed receptive, and they talked beyond the drama with his mother and Grantaire answered questions about his day and asked Enjolras about his, and slowly, slowly, they were on speaking terms again. Nothing deep, nothing serious.

For the first time, he really felt good about his progress. He could wake up in the morning without Grantaire being his first thought, he could meet with his friends without them throwing him worried looks if they mentioned Grantaire’s name, he could make it through an entire day of work without some small thing reminding him of Grantaire and knocking the wind out of him, he could let himself see other opportunities in his life that might lead him away from the future he wanted with Grantaire.

Enjolras slowly learned to be friends with Grantaire, not because he wanted to but because he had to, and they both seemed better for it.

The first text from Finn had come not long before Grantaire had called about Marie’s visit. It was casual, just checking in after radio silence. The texts became more frequent, until they were phone calls between Finn’s classes and after work, and then eventually there were Skype calls that lasted late into the night and it was fun and easier than Enjolras had thought it would be to share affection with someone else.

When Finn suggested he should come visit, Enjolras laughed until he realized he was serious. The idea scared him, and it didn’t; it felt very much like a turning point and he didn’t know what was on the other side. But he remembered what Grantaire had said so many weeks ago, you can make it mean something. Hadn’t he already? He talked to Finn almost more than he did with Ferre.

So he agreed.

Grantaire, on the other hand, felt like he was floundering. Les Amis were his friends, Étienne was his friend, Enjolras was his friend, but he came home from work at the end of the day and all he had was a flat in which he could hold his arms out and practically touch opposite walls and Ant. Save for the fact he’d actually managed to finish his degree, he was in exactly the same place he’d been before he and Enjolras had started dating. He had nothing. There was nothing. He clung to brief phone calls with Enjolras and told himself he’d survived on less before. But it hurt, he hurt, and he didn’t know what to do. He’d always curled in on himself or around a wine bottle before, but that wasn’t an option anymore.

So, he reached out. Maybe Enjolras wasn’t the best choice of someone to reach out to, but sometimes he felt like the only choice.

[Text] I’d love to see your new flat, by the way. - R x

Enjolras showed Finn Paris the way Finn had shown him Amsterdam. They hit all the tourist spots, but he showed him all the back roads and hidden cafés with the best coffee and danishes, and his favorite spot along the Seine and the route he ran early in the morning before the sun came out. He loved having Finn around, having company in a flat that didn’t quite feel like home and was often too quiet for comfort.

That afternoon, they had the windows open to invite in the summer breeze and sun. Finn sat on the floor with his guitar in his lap and Enjolras sprawled out on the sofa, his fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Pass me my phone?” he asked when he heard it buzzing on the coffee table.

“You don’t like my song?” Finn teased, handing it over.

Enjolras unlocked his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw the text.

“Okay?”

“It’s R.”

Finn smiled up at him and continued to play his song.

[Text] I’d love to show it to you. When are you free? - E x

That was a relief, wasn’t it? That plans were being made so easily - they hadn’t really seen each other face-to-face since everything had happened. Still, Grantaire fiddled with his phone for a little while before responding. There was a big difference between intending to see Enjolras again and actually making it happen.

[Text] Whenever. When’s good for you? - R x

Enjolras hesitated, looking from his phone to Finn and back again. The ache in his chest told him he wanted to see Grantaire fiercely, but he couldn’t possibly invite him over with Finn here. But he worried if he held him off, Grantaire might hesitate to make plans again.

“I can hear you thinking,” Finn said, twisting to face him.

“He wants to come see the apartment.”

“Now?”

“I’m not sure.”

Finn’s smile was teasing again. “I’m surprised he wants to see you at all after your Maman ambushed him.”

“Shut up.”

“You can invite him over. We’re not doing anything.”

[Text] You’re welcome anytime. - E x

[Text] You should know I have company this week, though. Not that that means you can’t come over. You can. - E

It was more difficult than ever to figure out what Enjolras actually wanted. Grantaire reread that second text over and over, until the words didn’t have any meaning anymore. Who could possibly be staying with him? All his friends were in Paris, weren’t they? And surely it wasn’t a family member; his maman would never let family stay in Enjolras’ place over their veritable mansion just outside Paris. Unless it was a hastily thought-out excuse to keep Grantaire away.

It was probably best to play it safe.

[Text] No worries. Some other time, ah? - R

Enjolras could feel his opportunity to see Grantaire for the first time in weeks just slipping through his fingers; he worried it would be weeks before he had the chance again.

“What do I say?” Enjolras asked, showing Finn their texts.

“You are not smooth at all,” Finn said with a laugh. “Do you want to invite him over?”

Enjolras smiled sheepishly. “I do, but you came all this way to see me and I don’t…”

Finn smiled, stretching to kiss his cheek. “I’d like to meet him. Invite him over.”

[Text] It’s Finn. I’d like you to meet him, if you’re up for it. - E

Finn.

Finn.

It was Finn.

Grantaire got abruptly to his feet, scared for a second he was about to be sick. It was Finn. Finn was staying with Enjolras. Enjolras wanted him to meet Finn.

What choice did he have? If he said no, Enjolras would think he was upset or put out or angry about this - and he wasn’t, couldn’t be. He would have to go to Enjolras’ new apartment, where Finn, not he, was staying, and meet Finn and be friendly and pretend his heart wasn’t breaking all over again - because it shouldn’t be, couldn’t be.

[Text] Sounds good. Just let me know when. - R

Enjolras was sure Finn could hear his heart thudding against his chest. What was he thinking, introducing his ex-fiancé to his… to Finn?

“Easy, Enj,” Finn said, moving to sit on the sofa beside him. “You are friends, right? There is nothing to be weird about.”

“I’ve never dated anyone except him,” Enjolras blurted out. “He’s never seen me with anyone else.”

Surprise colored Finn’s expression for just a moment before he broke into that carefree smile again. “There is a first for everything.”

[Text] We are just hanging around now. I was going to start making dinner soon, you’re welcome to join us. - E

“So, you’ve never dated anyone else?”

“Shut up.”

Great. Great! Dinner. A whole dinner, with Enjolras and his… What was Finn exactly? He could hardly be a one-night stand Enjolras regretted now. He was staying with him for a whole week.

[Text] I’ll head over soon. Want me to bring anything? - R

[Text] Non, non. I have everything here, merci. I’ll see you soon. - E

“Up, get up,” Enjolras said, getting up from the sofa hastily himself. “I need to get dressed. You need to get dressed, mon dieu. We need to clean up, this place is a mess.”

Finn laughed. “Enjolras, this place is nearly sterile.”

“Mon dieu, have you been talking to my mother?”

Enjolras pushed Finn towards the bedroom and remained out in the living area to tidy up, putting throw pillows back in their place and putting away the dirty dishes from their breakfast that morning. When he went into the bedroom to change, he was relieved to see that Finn was dressed and had put the clothes he’d strewn across the floor back into his suitcase.

“Keep your hair down,” Finn said from behind Enjolras as he looked himself over in the mirror. “You have a hickey on your neck.”

“Oh, dieu.”

Grantaire showed up an hour or so later, wary of being too early and too late, dreading every single aspect of the evening to come. He’d actually stopped at a liquor store on the way there, realising only as he stepped inside that he didn’t drink anymore and Enjolras never had, and likely wouldn’t be impressed by him turning up with a bottle of wine in his hand.

He made his way straight to the address Enjolras had texted him after that. He had vague memories of the photos of the place Enjolras had shown him, but the flat itself wasn’t really his main concern anymore.

It took him a few minutes of pacing outside the front door to work up the nerve to ring the doorbell.

Finn tried to distract Enjolras as best he could, playing him silly songs and telling ridiculously bad jokes, and when that didn’t seem to help, he tried reassuring him that dinner would be just fine, stop worrying so much. Enjolras appreciated that about him. Finn never seemed to worry about a thing.

Enjolras nearly jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang, and Finn hardly suppressed his laughter.

“Do you want me to get that?” Finn asked.

“Non, non,” he said hastily, getting to his feet. “Just.. wait here.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and moved to open the door.

“Hey,” he said, smiling almost helplessly at the sight of him there. “You, um… hey. Come in.”

“Hey,” Grantaire said. He couldn’t quite make himself move from the doorstep. “Are… Are you sure? I don’t have to…”

Enjolras faltered. “You don’t have to,” he said softly, stepping forward. “If this is weird. I just wanted to see you, and he’s… he’s nice. He’s funny.”

“Non, non, I’m good,” Grantaire said quickly. “I just… don’t want it to be weird for you. This is a pretty big deal, ah?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras admitted with a soft laugh. “Maybe. Is it?”

Grantaire shrugged lightly. “I nearly brought Ant,” he said, trying not to read into anything. “But then I didn’t know how… Finn… is with cats. But she says hi.”

“You could have brought Ant. He has two cats,” Enjolras said. “Do you, ah… are you okay to come in?”

Grantaire nodded, taking a quick, deep breath. “This is a nice area,” he said.

“Oui, it is,” Enjolras agreed, taking a step back to let Grantaire inside. “It’s a quiet street, kind of tucked away from everything. I’m glad you found it okay.”

When Grantaire cleared the doorway, Enjolras closed the door behind them, leading the way further inside.

“Ah, this is the main living area,” he said. “And, ah… this is Finn.”

Finn stood from the sofa and crossed the room to them, offering a smile and his hand to Grantaire.

“Grantaire, right? It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

Grantaire managed a smile as he clasped Finn’s hand. He was devastatingly good-looking. Of course Enjolras had chosen him. “Grantaire. Rémi. Whatever. Good to meet you, Finn.”

Enjolras’ nerves were no better now that the meeting had taken place than they were in anticipation of their meeting.

“You, ah… have you been going by Rémi recently?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shrugged, admittedly a little self-consciously. “Nobody I’m hanging round with really goes by their surname,” he said. “I was always Rémi at work anyway, and at home.”

Enjolras felt that hit in the pit of his stomach. “Oh, well…”

“R is a good compromise, isn’t it?” Finn said, nudging his shoulder against Enjolras’ with a smile. “Why don’t you give the grand tour and I will get started on dinner? We decided on spaghetti, is that okay with you, R?”

Grantaire hated his name in Finn’s voice. He forced a smile. “Sounds great,” he said, turning to Enjolras before he’d even finished speaking. “Lead the way.”

Finn gave Enjolras a quick smile before turning to head for the kitchen.

“Ca va, well,” Enjolras said, gesturing to the room they were standing in. “The living room. Ah, behind you there is my work space. That’s the balcony there, it’s hardly big enough for a chair. Ah…”

He headed for a door off the main living room, opening it for Grantaire to peer in and immediately regretted it.

“The bedroom. It’s a nice size,” he said, praying Grantaire would make nothing of the unmade bed he’d clearly been sharing with Finn. “The kitchen is back the other way, there’s room for a table there. You’ll see when we eat.”

They were sharing a bed, probably sleeping together if the poorly hidden lovebite, vivid on the pale skin of Enjolras’ neck, was anything to go by. Grantaire took that in and a strange numbness settled over him, the sort of sensation he’d sought through alcohol and worse, back when looking at Enjolras had hurt like looking at the sun, like it did again now.

“It’s a really nice place,” he said, managing to smile at Enjolras. “I bet the light’s nice in the mornings.”

Enjolras gazed silently at Grantaire for a long moment, remembering how beautiful he looked in the early morning light, blinking sleep from his eyes and reaching to pull Enjolras close after having drifted apart in their sleep. Sadness lingered behind his returning smile.

“Just beautiful,” he said. “Do you want to check out the kitchen?”

Grantaire nodded, looking away quickly. “Oui, sounds good,” he said, gesturing for Enjolras to lead the way.

Enjolras took a steadying breath before leading the way from the bedroom and back across the living room to the kitchen.

“It’s a decent size,” he said. “Four could fit comfortably. How’s dinner coming?”

“The pasta is nearly done, the sauce is ready for mixing, the bread is in the oven,” Finn said, smiling at them. “Can I get you a drink?”

“I’ll make up some waters,” Enjolras said, moving for the cupboard. “I have juice and coke, too, if you’re interested, R.”

“Water’s fine, merci,” Grantaire said, hanging awkwardly back in the doorway. “Can I do anything?”

“Non, non, have a seat,” Enjolras said, gesturing towards the kitchen table. “Did you work today?”

“You work at an art gallery, right?” Finn asked.

“Oui et oui,” Grantaire said, obediently taking a seat.

“What do you do? Are you a curator?” Finn asked, taking the glass of water Enjolras offered him with a smile.

Enjolras handed a glass off to Grantaire, and moved to get bowls and silverware on the table. He didn’t insert himself in the conversation, deciding he should give them a chance to get to know each other without his interference.

“I just work there,” Grantaire said, glancing at Enjolras and quickly realising he was on his own here. “I give tours or work on the front desk. Whatever they need me to do.”

Enjolras gave Grantaire a fondly exasperated look. “He had an exhibition there a few months ago. He’s a great artist.”

“Really?” Finn asked. “What kind of work do you do?”

“This and that,” Grantaire said. “Nothing… in particular. What do you do?”

“I’m studying music composition,” Finn said. “I finish next year, though I’m not sure what I’m going to do with it yet.”

“Ah, hence the guitar,” Grantaire said, gesturing vaguely back to the main room. He was surprised to find that Finn was so much younger than them both, though he didn’t know why.

“I tried to teach Enj a few chords, but he doesn’t have the patience,” Finn said. “Oh, god, did you know he knows every word to Halo?”

Color flooded Enjolras’ face. “Finn, non-”

“Every word,” Finn said, smiling playfully at Enjolras. “Who knew he even knew who Beyoncé is? And he’s good too, have you heard him sing?”

“I think this is ready,” Enjolras said, nudging Finn out of the way to drain the pasta. He felt like he’d ducked his face into the boiling water.

“I couldn’t convince him to cover it with me for my YouTube channel,” Finn said with a wistful sigh. “We could have kickstarted his new career.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Hardly,” he said. “Grab the bread from the oven before you let it burn.”

Grantaire hadn’t known. He’d never heard Enjolras sing, not in years of knowing him nor years of living him. And Finn, who’d known him for a handful of days, knew, saw little parts of Enj that Grantaire hadn’t known were there. It broke his heart.

“Smells great,” he said, because, for once, he couldn’t find any other words.

“It’s all Enj,” Finn said, rescuing the bread as directed and plating it. “He had everything ready to go, I just stirred. Is there anything he can’t do?”

Finn nudged Enjolras teasingly as he passed by him to put the bread on the table; Enjolras rolled his eyes again. Normally he would’ve nudged back, made a teasing comment in return, and they’d horse around until someone surrendered. Enjolras didn’t feel comfortable having too much physical contact with him in front of Grantaire.

Enjolras dished out three bowls of spaghetti and placed them on the table, along with a plate of grated cheese.

“And there it is, dinner,” he said. “Does anyone need anything else before I sit down?”

“Non, merci,” Grantaire said, growing more and more subdued. “This is great.”

Enjolras sat at the round table between Finn and Grantaire. He felt a shift in the energy in the room, and with a glance over at Grantaire, he knew he should’ve waited to have him over until Finn had gone. This wasn’t a piece of their lives they could share with each other.

“Well, dig in.”

Grantaire found it difficult to eat, though he didn’t let that on; he complimented the food and the kitchen and made comments about how nice it was to finally meet Finn, all the while struggling to swallow.

He’d lost Enjolras. That much was clear. He didn’t belong here with him and Finn, and it felt like that marked a significant change. There were moving down separate paths and, for the first time, he didn’t have any hope that they would meet up again in the future.

The conversation was light and easy, and Enjolras felt anything but. He was slowly beginning to see where this turning point ended up, and he knew he wanted no part of it.

Finn was sweet, and carefree and funny and charismatic, but he wasn’t Grantaire. No one would ever be Grantaire. He’d fooled himself into thinking he’d made progress, that getting involved with Finn and distracted by work meant he was slowly getting over Grantaire, but he knew now, sitting between them both, that he was still more in love with Grantaire than he’d ever been, and he always would be.

“Sorry, I just…” Enjolras put his fork down, standing from the table. “I think I heard a knock. I’ll go check.”

And without a better explanation, he walked from the kitchen and the apartment and out into the hallway, pacing back and forth down the corridor to try to catch his breath.

Grantaire watched him go before turning back to look at Finn with a bewildered expression.

“Is he alright?” he asked. “Has something happened?”

Finn looked just as taken aback as Grantaire did, though he was sure he had a bit more of an idea on what the outburst was about. He hadn’t ever expected Enjolras would just get up in the middle of a conversation.

“Ah… I would give him a few minutes,” he said. “I think he is… overwhelmed.”

Grantaire knew Enjolras responded better to stress when he had someone there to help him rationalise, but he could hardly get up to go comfort him now Finn had told him to stay.

He nodded.

A moment later, he got to his feet.

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. “It’ll be… easier for him if I’m not here.”

Finn stood too, struggling with something to say. He’d never been involved with someone who had so much emotional baggage, not any that he had to be confronted with, anyway. He tried to stay away from this kind of drama.

“Hey, ah… we’re not that serious,” he said. “I mean, I like him. A lot. He is… something else, you know that. But…”

He shrugged.

“We’re not together anymore,” Grantaire said, though he wasn’t sure why he was trying to console Finn. “But, obviously, it takes time to move on when you were engaged to someone. I just want to help him do that, so… Enjoy the rest of your stay, ah? Don’t let this… change anything. I’m out of the picture. He’ll be good without me around.”

“Engaged, wow,” Finn said with a breath of a laugh. “Sorry, I am not very good at this, ah… I mean, I see the way you look at him, and the way he looks at you, and how he talks about you… it makes more sense now. I don’t want to be in the way of that.”

“You’re not,” Grantaire said firmly. “It’s over. It was good to meet you, Finn. Maybe we’ll get to hang out sometime.”

He made his way to the door before Finn could say anything else.

Enjolras was still pacing out in the hallway, counting his steps up and down, up and down, trying to talk himself into going back inside where he’d just left Grantaire and Finn alone, merde he’d left them alone.

Just as he was making his way back to the door to force himself to go back in, it opened and Grantaire came out of it. He exhaled sharply.

“Dieu, hi, sorry, I’m coming.”

“Non, it’s alright,” Grantaire said gently. “What’s up? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Enjolras said hastily. “I’m okay, I just… It was warm in there, or something. I’m okay. Are you? I’m sorry I just left you in there, he’s nice, non?”

“Oui, really nice,” Grantaire said, managing to smile. “I’m okay, but I’m going to head home now, ca va? I’ve left Ant on her own and everything and I have to be at work early tomorrow.”

Enjolras reached to hold Grantaire’s arm without thought. “Oh, already?”

“Oui, I’m sorry,” Grantaire said quickly, looking down at Enjolras’ hand on his arm and then back at him. “I’d love to stay longer, but…”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said, letting go of Grantaire when he realized what he’d done. “This was such a stupid idea. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Grantaire couldn’t help it; he reached out to squeeze Enjolras’ hand. “It was a really nice idea,” he said firmly. “Finn’s lovely. It was good to meet him and I’m really glad he’s visiting. I just have to get back to Ant.”

Enjolras’ skin burned under Grantaire’s touch. He squeezed his hand back, and didn’t let go.

“Grantaire, I…” He stopped, took a deep breath. “Tell Ant I said hi.”

Grantaire swallowed and nodded and couldn’t find anything else to say. He squeezed Enjolras’ hand tight and couldn’t smile and broke away quickly to make his way out of the apartment building.

Enjolras wanted to follow Grantaire, but didn’t. He’d wanted to tell him he loved him, but hadn’t had the nerve. And now Grantaire believed that Enjolras was invested in Finn and, really, how could he ever be when Grantaire had walked away with his heart?

He went back inside. Finn had already cleared up dinner and put on a pot of coffee and Enjolras joined him silently on the sofa.

Grantaire went home and straight to bed, but couldn’t sleep. He lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, with Ant curled up on his stomach, and tried to cry, but there was nothing. It had all fallen too far apart; he just felt numb.

Finn fell asleep before Enjolras, who laid restlessly beside him staring up at the ceiling. He regretted nothing more than not speaking his mind to Grantaire in the hall when he had the chance. And the guilt of letting Finn comfort him after ate him up.

As carefully as Enjolras could, he rolled out of bed and grabbed his phone, closing the bedroom door behind him on his way to the balcony. He texted Grantaire.

[Text] I’m sorry again for tonight. I’ll make it up to you. - E x

The sound of his phone buzzing made Grantaire jump. He hadn’t quite managed to fall asleep, but he’d been drifting in a space that was removed from consciousness. He sighed as he picked up his phone.

If he didn’t reply, Enjolras would worry.

[Text] Nothing to apologise for or make up. Just enjoy the rest of Finn’s visit, oui? - R

[Text] Will you come round again? Once he’s left? - E

Grantaire faltered. How could he? It would break his heart.

[Text] I don’t know if that’s a good idea, E. - R

Enjolras sank to the ground, leaning back against the railings.

[Text] Why not? - E

[Text] It’s really late. We should both get some sleep. - R

Enjolras exhaled a shaky breath, tears following it immediately. So Grantaire knew Enjolras was still in love with him, and he didn’t feel the same, and he was the one strong enough to maintain the boundaries.

[Text] Ca va.

It was that simple. Grantaire let his phone fall off his bed and curled up away from it, squeezing his eyes shut tight. It was that simple. Enjolras would be able to carry on moving on so much more quickly this way and Grantaire would… Well, this feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him. It was that simple.

Things changed between Enjolras and Finn after their dinner with Grantaire. They didn’t talk about Enjolras’ outburst at the table, they didn’t talk about Grantaire at all, and usually no topic of conversation was off limits between them. Finn seemed more reserved around him. Still playful and happy to keep Enjolras’ bed warm, but he had reservation behind every touch, every kiss. Enjolras tried to act normal, like he had plenty of that easy, careless affection to share, but Finn knew better.

“I’ll miss having you here,” Enjolras said. They stood out on the train platform, Finn packed to go back to Amsterdam. “You’ll have to come back soon, ca va?”

Finn smiled. “Classes are starting up again. It’ll be hard for me to get away until school breaks up for the holidays.”

“Maybe I could come see you,” Enjolras suggested. “I have the time.”

“Listen, E…” Finn shifted awkwardly, still maintaining that sweet smile for him. Enjolras’ stomach dropped. “This was��� great. You are great. I have never known anyone like you, and it… it’s hard to do this, okay? But you obviously have a lot of unfinished business and I just… I really do not want to be in the middle of all this.”

“I don’t… what do you mean?”

“Enj, come on. I know you and R have a lot of history but it’s not as far in the past as you think it is.”

“R? You’re talking about… oh, Finn, please, non, it’s not like that. It’s over, I swear. He’s moved on, I’m moving on, it’s over.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Finn said, resting his hands on either side of Enjolras’ neck to calm him. “It’s okay. There are no hard feelings here, okay? I believe you believe it’s over, but what I saw that night, it’s not. You were engaged. Whether it’s one-sided or not, it’s not over, and I can’t be in the middle of it. I can’t help you get over someone you’re in love with. It’s not fair to either of us.”

Enjolras bit down hard on the inside of his lip, forcing himself not to cry. Finn was right; he didn’t deserve to be dragged along in all of Enjolras’ baggage with only the slimmest chance of this turning into something more. That didn’t make it hurt any less.

“I really wanted… I should have told you about…”

Finn shook his head. “I know,” he said, letting his hands fall. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’ll text you when I get in, okay?”

And with nothing else to say except goodbye, Finn got on the train and Enjolras didn’t wait for it to leave the platform before walking away.

[eirenical]

F, I and N, I love h/c and I'm looking for some new writing ideas so I might try out something that you want ❤️💛💚💙💜

F: Care to share a favorite hurt/comfort fic?

OK, so this is becoming harder than I expected, so instead of a comprehensive list, I will just pull out a few favorites.  I know I’m leaving things out, but my brain is not quite up to the monumental task of listing all my favorite hurt/comfort fic tonight.  O_o;;;

then burn the ashes by @kvothes

Maybe they differ the most in their dispositions, in the way they react to injustice. Where Feuilly bruises, Enjolras bleeds.(Enjolras x Feuilly)

The writing and characterizations on this are just flat out gorgeous.  Enjolras texts Feuilly to ask him to look after his plant for the night.  Feuilly does so and finds himself still there when Enjolras returns in the morning, a bit shook up and bruised, but still somehow relieved to find Feuilly there.  Comfort and adorableness ensues.  ^_^

OK, I could probably just add: EVERYTHING EVER BY @takethewatch to this list and not be lying.  ;D  But a couple of specifics…

Carry On and the ensuing “fix-its/follow-ups”

Feuilly moves to a new city to start over. He plans to keep his head down this time, to work an 8 to 5 job and keep to himself and settle for getting by. His hopes are modest, reasonable: He hopes to keep up on his loan payments, to get along with his coworkers, to get through another Christmas alone.  

He doesn’t plan on getting sucked into a group of literacy activists who care way too much, on getting involved in trying to fix the world again, on stumbling into people who actually seem to care about him. He doesn’t plan on being happy.

I really, really need to do a re-read of this series.  It’s one of my favorite Feuilly stories EVER and a part of why is because of all the glorious hurt/comfort.  ^_^  But seriously, this is my favorite ever Amis Origin Story.  *_*

the best medicine 

Five times Joly took care of his friends, and one time they took care of him.

I am weak, ABSOLUTELY WEAK for competent!joly fic.  And here we have him taking care of everyone and then getting taken care of and just GOSH I LOVE JOLY.  *_*

A Passion for the Absoluteby @amarguerite

Courfeyrac gets severely injured and turns to Enjolras, high priest of the ideal that he is, for a little illumination. Courfeyrac enlightens Enjolras in return. Featuring terrible puns, romantic and Romantic excesses, and the Battle of Hernani.

Holy, oh my goodness, THIS FIC.  *falls over*  This is possibly my favorite ever canon era fic.  I don’t even have WORDS for how much flail I’m still in over this fic, even years later.  This is the fic that made me utterly and completely fall in love with Enjolras and Courfeyrac, as friends, as lovers, as EVERYTHING.  And there’s just SO. MUCH. BEAUTIFUL. HURT/COMFORT.  TT^TT  I LOVE IT SO.

The Peace of Wild Thingsby @ariadneslostthread

Series of vignettes featuring the Chief, the Guide and the Centre. And an obscene amount of h/c.

1. “Good.” Enjolras says with finality. “Now, if you will all excuse me, I’m going to lock myself in a darkened room for a few hours.”

2. Combeferre sighs as he looks from Courfeyrac to Enjolras and back, “I don’t feel entirely myself tonight, to be honest.” He smiles weakly.

3. It is a quiet, reserved sort of concern and love which entirely suits Enjolras so he is happy to share the sofa and pile of blankets with Courfeyrac, their legs tangled together like some sort of two headed, phlegm-ridden blanket monster, coughing and sniffling to his heart’s content without feeling self-conscious.

4. Courfeyrac. It isn’t until he’s retrieved his toothbrush from inside the bathroom cabinet that he catches sight of himself in the mirror, and lets out a horrified scream.

This is honestly one of my most self-indulgent favorite h/c fic.  It’s one of the ones I come back to over and over and over, especially if I’m in need of comfort, myself.  I just love these three so much and I love how deeply they care for each other in this fic and just EVERYTHING.  *_*

All I Have Known by @whimsical-in-the-brainpan

Grantaire’s motto has always been “it only hurts if you care.” Of course, Éponine knows that secretly he’s always cared. But it’s just easier for him to play the strawman than to actually let himself believe. It’s safer.

This is an epically long series of slow-burn e/R that focuses on Eponine and Grantaire’s amazingly co-dependent friendship and JFC, it’s still one of my favorites even though I’m not really on the e/R bandwagon anymore.  It just packs SUCH an emotional punch throughout the entire thing and I love it SO MUCH.  I really need to re-read it, too.  ;D  (Side note: I especially love the characterization of Cosette in this fic.  It’s one of my favorites, to this day. ^_^)

I Know How to Love Only When You’re Holding Meby @kingesstropolis

Courfeyrac and Enjolras grew up next door to each other, with their families so close they might as well be related at this point. So when Enjolras’s older sister gets engaged, Courfeyrac knows he’ll be attending the wedding–which isn’t a problem until it becomes clear he’s supposed to bring a significant other to the wedding. Not having dated anyone in the years since his last disastrous relationship and unable to tell his mother why he’s given up on romance, Courfeyrac does the only logical thing–he brings along his new fake boyfriend, Combeferre.

OK, so this one may not TECHNICALLY be h/c, but it involves a lot of angst and emotional h/c, so I SAY IT COUNTS.  Featuring an ace!Courfeyrac who has put himself through hell and back to get to that conclusion and faces an even steeper uphill battle to accept that he’s still worthy of love and that someone could love him.  And it’s just so lovely and painful and ^__________^.

@thecoffeetragedy always writes really good hurt/comfort, mostly on tumblr, like this really lovely little Combeferre & Courfeyrac ficlet she wrote for me, but you can find a bunch of them here on AO3, too.

I also have a ton of other h/c recs, like I’m sure I’m going to think of a million more that just HAVE TO BE on this list as soon as I post this, but THIS IS A GOOD START, HOPEFULLY, Y/Y?  I also have a ton of others in other fandoms, but I think you are Love, Simon AU nonny, so hopefully these were all relevant to your interests.  ^_^

I: Do you have a guilty pleasure in fic (reading or writing)?

I don’t really believe in guilty pleasures.  I thoroughly enjoy all my pleasures, no shame attached.  ^_~  I absolutely love H/C and sick!fic of every flavor and variety, but I feel absolutely no guilt or shame about that whatsoever.  BRING IT ON.  *_*

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

And I just answered this one in the last ask, so a little c/p wouldn’t hurt…

Pfft.  There’s a part of me that really wishes someone would finish FYFM for me at this point, but not too seriously.  I’m too much of a control freak for that.  -.-;;;

As for stories I wish someone would WRITE for me?  *evil grin*  Anything in any of these tags:

dear yuletide author

dear miserable holidays author

dear not for primetime author

dear pr femslash ficathon writer

dear rare pair fest writer

dear trick or treat writer

HAVE AT.  SERIOUSLY.  *chinhands*  ^___________^

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG, NONNY.  Hopefully you see this.  ^_^

(Anyone else want to send some?  ^_^)

[wilwywaylan]

the big pairing ask: feuilly/bahorel :D et en anglais, s'il te plait, pour que je le comprenne (MUHAHHAHHHA)

@marcellin-e : sorry it took me so long to do this ! Also…. I may have lost your ideas on Feuilly x Bahorel so I did as I could…. Sorrysorrysorry ! Contains dorks, the french school system, lots of dorkiness and leather.

Big steps in the relationship !

0. But, how did they meet ? They both work in the same french high school.

Feuilly is the deeply passionnate, nerdy history teacher. He’s very invested in his lessons, and tries to make history and geography as fascinating for his students as it is for him. He wears flannel shirts and leather boots, walks to school every day even when it’s snowing, and always has time to discuss with his students, about his lessons or every subject they want to talk about. As a history teacher, he’s in charge of civic education lessons too. Unlike several of his coworkers who think it’s a waste of time and use those hours to teach their main subjects, Feuilly is very invested in it. He thinks it’s very important for teens to learn as much as they can about civism, society and politics. His lesson plans are always very elaborate, and he tries to cover every societal issue they can meet. He’s of course a favourite of numerous students, and at least a quarter of his classes have a crush on him.

When meeting Bahorel for the first time, everything thinks he’s the mecanic teacher. Which, honestly, he could be, because he can fix a lot of things. But don’t let the leather jacket, chains and boots fool you. He’s a litterature teacher. He’s as passionate about it as Feuilly is about Poland (and the rest). He sometimes reads aloud in class and gets really invested. He comes to school on a wonderful Harley Davidson that he fixes with love, has a booming laugh you can hear across the hall, and is as gentle with the students impressed by his stature and personnality that he is with the stray cats he feeds. Almost all his students are scared of him at first, and their principal teacher announcing that he’s the litterature teacher at the start of the year is always welcomed by grunts and shivers. At the end of the year, they are all sad to leave his class.

Of course, they meet in the teacher lounge. They didn’t talk at first because, even if their classes have some common grounds, they didn’t really know each other, only exchanging remarks like “hello” or “those kids, right ?”, usual small talk. Bahorel always makes some coffee and pours a cup for Feuilly who always seems overworked. Then one day, as he’s talking with his good friend Grantaire the art teacher, Bahorel learns about a group called Les Amis de l’ABC, a group about social issues. Lured by the promise of protests and brawls, Bahorel decides to give it a try. When he enters the backroom of the coffee shop where the meetings are held, who’s there talking with a hot-looking blond person ? Feuilly himself. Bahorel decides to stay for a while. The group is interesting, the people there are nice, and there’s the promise of manifestations to make their work conditions better. And there’s Feuilly who’s as passionate here as he is about his work.

They start talking more and more. About the group, first, what happens during meetings and the new friends they made there (and Grantaire extra-obvious crush on the hot blond), and then about other subjects. They look forward to their conversations in the teacher lounge, until it’s not enough. They start meeting outside school, too, just to talk. Bahorel gets Feuilly started on boxing, and Feuilly lends him part of his endless book collection. They end up being good friends, but that’s what happens when you save someone from getting punched at a protest.

1. Who made the first move / who kissed who first ? Feuilly. You can’t be around so much muscular hotness as he is and NOT feel something. It happens one day, very out of the blue. They are all gathered at the Musain after a protest, resting a bit and talking in hushed voices. Bahorel is sitting at the table, a bottle in hand, very calm for once. Feuilly looks at him, then just bends over and kisses him. Courfeyrac is faster to react than Bahorel and has the time to wipe up his cellphone and take a picture before his friend even realizes what has just happened. There is a moment of silence while everyone processes the news. Then Bahorel almost knocks Feuilly from his chair in his haste to return the favor.

2. Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first ? Since Feuilly’s friends are more or less Bahorel’s friends, they tell all of the Amis at the same time, by kissing directly in front of them.Bahorel has other friends, scattered all through Paris. They all learn the same way, when he shows himself with lovebites and announces that they “should see the other guy”.As for family, Bahorel refrains himself to immediatly send a mail to his parents, tellking them aaaaaall about Feuilly and how awesome he is. For at least three days. Then he sends them an absolutly gushing one that he’ll forever deny writing.As for Montparnasse, Feuilly’s foster brother.... let’s just say it took time.

3. What do their family/friends think of their relationship ? Their friends had an ongoing bet to see when they were going to get together and who would make the first move. Bossuet totally won both. Now they are all very happy for them, except when the two decide to make out during the meeting (which luckily doesn’t happy often), or when everyone has to stay away from the supply closet due to… interesting noises coming from it.Montparnasse, who’s closest to Feuilly than any blood brother could be, is happy for him as long as he’s happy. He was wary of Bahorel first, not because he could hurt Feuilly (who’s strong enough to defend himself), but because Bahorel is loud, brash, gets himself in dangerous situations. Montparnasse tried to have the “if you hurt Feuilly” talk with him. It ended with Montparnasse’s nose bloodied with a punch that miraculously didn’t get a drop on his clothes, and Bahorel with a black eye. Now they are friends AND fashion pals, and respect the fuck out of each other.Bahorel’s parents are happy as long as their son is happy. They don’t really count on Feuilly to keep him in line, but after all, that’s not his job. Beside, he’s a nice, polite, hardworking young man, and they couldn’t hope to find someone better for their son.

4. Which couple/family are they closest to ? That’s like asking which one of their friends they love more ! It’s too difficult to choose ! They are very close to Enjolras and Grantaire because R is Bahorel’s boxing and drinking buddy, and Feuilly and Enjolras spend looots of time discussing all kinds of social issues. They are very close now to Jehan and Montparnasse, too, not only because they live close. Montparnasse is weirdly protective of Feuilly, and Jehan and Bahorel love to make shenanigans together, so they see each other often. But really, they are close to all their friends.

5. When do they move together ? Where and how ? Once the relationship is on the road, they move together fairly quickly. Bahorel’s flat dates from the 50s and the heating and plumbing are antique, and Feuilly lives in a tiny place that looks more like a closet than a home. So they decide to find something better, that they can afford with their combined salary. It takes some time, and a lot of disappointments, before they finally find the little lovenest they need. It’s not very new, with the brick walls and the wood panneling in the bedroom, and it’s in a part of the town that’s not too sure, but it’s comfortable, not too damp or cold or hot. And the situation is good, close to the high school and the Musain, and on top of a tattoo shop. Okay, there are weird people going in and out of that shop, strange people that look like a gang except the one all dressed to the nines in Armani (who’s in fact Feuilly’s foster brother so it’s alright), but they don’t care. It’s the nest they wanted, and they are stupidly in love with it.

6. Who proposes and how ? Bahorel. The gang is totally drunk after a fabulous party that lead them from Courfeyrac apartment, then to the park, covered in glitter, for other hijinks (see-saws CAN hold Bahorel’s weight, and Jehan can climb a rope tower in less than one minute), then to a small fast-food place to grab something to eat because it’s late and they are all hungry. They are sitting on the bench, Feuilly comfortably slumped against his boyfriend, when said boyfriend suddently grabs an onion ring and proposes. Feuilly snogs the living lights out of him for the best part of five minutes, under everyone’s cameras and cellphones. Come morning, and after taking care of their hangovers, Bahorel buys him a proper engagment ring since Feuilly ate the first one.

7. Where do they go on their honeymoon ? Probably Poland. Bahorel knows that Feuilly dreams of going back there one day. He went as an Erasmus student and fell in love with the country, and never got to go again because travelling is expensive, especially when you have a thirst for buying books and giving to charities equally. So for their honeymoon, Bahorel arranges for them to travel around Poland for two weeks. Feuilly is so happy he almost faints on the spot.

Let’s talk about sex~

8. Who has the biggest kink (and what is it) ? Feuilly. He loves it when Bahorel bites him during sex. And Bahorel loves doing it because it makes Feuilly writhe and moan way louder. Feuilly doesn’t even try to hide the marks on his neck and shoulders, but no one dares to comment on them.

9. Who initiates sex more often ? Both. They can barely keep their heands off each other at times, and no flat surface in their appartment has been safe from their enthusiastic lovemaking.

10. What kink/kinks turn(s) one (or both) of them off ? Bahorel is a man of many kinks, and he’s always ready to try new things, especially with Feuilly. Who’s very happy to try them witth him. Mostly, anything that’s consensual and not too dirty will get them going.

11. What’s the craziest place they’d have sex ?The Musain’s supply closet. It’s a tight fit, no pun intended, because of Bahorel’s… impressive size. But they made do. It was fun, but they almost got caught, and no, they refrain from doing it (except when, you know, Feuilly looks a bit ruffled juuust like that, or Bahorel’s tattoos are visible juuust a bit under his shirt…)

12. Who is more aggressive in bed and out of bed ? Bahorel. There’s something in Feuilly that makes him want to push him roughly on all the flat surfaces in their appartment, kiss him senseless, rip his clothes off and take him right there. Not that Feuilly complains. Or lays there and take it, the bite marks on Bahorel’s are proof of it.

13. How does the other person react when their partner wears something special (boots, lingerie, etc.) ? Feuilly smiles. Then tries to hide his smile. Then jokes to hide that he appreciates it A LOT. But Bahorel has already seen the smile, it’s too late. And besides, Feuilly likes that his partner knows that he enjoys his efforts. Bahorel just pounces.

14. Lights on or off ? They stay as they are when they start trying to rip their clothes off. Neither cares enough to stop and turn the lights on or off. Bahorel still have a slight preference for the lights on because it means he can look at Feuilly that way. And Feuilly has the most amazing golden eyes you’ve ever seen (yes, Bahorel is a sap).

Quirks and habits

15. What are their quirks while sleeping ? After several years spent backpacking across part of Europe, Feuilly has gotten used to sleep all curled up in a tight little ball, as to fit in the smallest places. Which is perfect because Bahorel just sprawls on the bed, taking up all the space. And he manages to hog the covers at the same time. The best way to sleep is to settle against or on him, to be caught in the blanket roll. Add to this Bahorel’s beloved stuffed dog that Feuilly likes to borrow and cuddle because it smells like Bahorel, and you have a perfect setting.

16. Who is the morning person/night person ? Feuilly is an extremly morning person. Like, he’s up before the sun even, taking time to correctly wake up with a cup of coffee (or five), read the newspapers, go over his lessons plans again, text Enjolras about the latest injustice / Eponine about stupid jokes / Combeferre, Jehan, Joly and Grantaire about nerd stuff. He leaves in advance to be sure to cover everything, from the state of his classroom to his schedule, and does he need to replace a sick coworker ? Compared to him, Bahorel is a lazy bear. He likes to take five more minutes in bed, then jumps in the shower, in his clothes, grab a bagel or croissant and jog / run to work. Feuilly is the first to crash on evenings. Of course, he doesn’t have any energy left, even with coffee, and needs a good night sleep to function correctly. Bahorel likes to stay up a bit longer, grading his papers while watching trash TV. When he goes to bed, he takes care of not waking the sleeping Feuilly and curls up around him. (And then, starfishes)

17. Who wakes the other one up with kisses ? Feuilly. He leaves first because of work, but always stops to kiss Bahorel hello. Sometimes, he wakes him up, sometimes Bahorel is already awake and waiting for his kiss. He always tries to keep Feuilly with him a little longer, and Feuilly escapes the dreaded bear hug with a laugh. On Feuilly’s (too rare) vacation days, the good morning kiss turns into a full make-out session and / or lazy morning sex.

18. Who is the romantic one (Valentine’s Day or other) ? Feuilly is always too busy to think about Valentine’s Day. Besides, his advice on that holiday is that it’s “capitalist crap” (an advice heartily shared by Enjolras) and if you need a day to allow yourself to tell your partner you love them, then you have bigger problems than finding the “perfect present”. Which makes things a bit awkward when he comes home on the first Valentine’s Day since Bahorel and he got together, to be met with a nice, home-cooked meal, Bahorel wearing an apron, and several books wrapped in newspapers (Bahorel’s gesture towards the environnment). He was embarrassed, of course, first because he couldn’t let himself be swept off his feet unless he was to feel like a hypocrit, and second because he didn’t plan anything for him. Bahorel quickly caught him in a bear hug and assured him that he just wanted to make Feuilly feel special and loved, and it was juuust a funny coincidence that it fell on Valentine’s Day. Feuilly absolutly isn’t fooled, but still lets himself be pampered. Now he tries to at least do a little something, like a complex origami or a nice painting, for that day when Bahorel decides to spoil him that always suspiciously falls on the same day each year.

19. Who would lead in ballroom dancing ? Do not let the muscles and the dudebro attitude fool you. Bahorel is a pro at ballroom dancing. That comes with a mother being an opera singer. And he’ll gladly grab Feuilly and drag him in a waltz around the living room, even if they’ll end up in a pile on the couch.

20. Who is the one to most likely pick the movie they watch ? It’s a tight match, really. Bahorel will forever defend Lady and the Tramp, and Feuilly is adamant on Aladdin. Most of the time, they settle it by playing Mario Kart (and then the get engrossed in the game and suddenly, it’s too late to watch a movie anymore).

21. Who is the one who would pay for dates ? Bahorel, because his parents give him a generous allowance to keep him out of trouble and weird jobs (it doesn’t work). Feuilly is not exactly broke, but he doesn’t have lots of money, certainly not enough to treat Bahorel as much as he’d like.

22. Who takes over the beauty/style department ? No one, because they have the same style : t-shirts, flannels, hoodies, jeans. Bahorel just insists that Feuilly sometimes wears his clothes, because they are way too big for him, and he loves how he looks in them.

23. What would they get each other for gifts ? For Feuilly, it’s easy : books, books, books. Novels, non-fiction, biographies, children books with those wonderful illustrations…. Everything works. Bahorel jokes that he’s not going to stop unless he has enough books to built a house with them. Or open his own public library. Feuilly thinks it’s a wonderful idea. And if not books, then art supplies. Lots and lots of art supplies, top-of-the-line. Feuilly loves art supplies.Feuilly buys Bahorel books too, because they both love books. He knows all the small bookshops in town, where he can find that rare, leather-bound, first edition novel that Bahorel would love. He buys him cookbooks too, because they both like to try new things, and baking supplies, so Bahorel can make all those delicious treats. 

24. Who cusses more ? Both. Bahorel cusses a lot, casually, inserting “fucking” and “goddamn” in almost every sentence. Compared to him, Feuilly’s speech is a lot cleaner. But that’s because he swears in foreign languages, so no one understands.

25. Who remembers things ? And who forgets the birthdays and anniversaries (and has to be forgiven) ? Bahorel is the one who remembers everything : anniversaries, dates, rallies, all his friends’ names, hobbies and phone numbers. That man is a machine. On the other hand, Feuilly tries to remember as much as he can, but he already has so much going on in his life, he sadly forgets a lot of things. His remedy is to paste sticky-notes everywhere. They are even color coded. Bahorel keeps finding them in the strangest place (”seriously, Fee, did you really need to put that on my shirt ?” “I was sure to look there.”)26. Who is the bigger cuddler ? Don’t let Bahorel’s big hugs fool you. That man loves to hug everyone, lifting them in the process, and holding them for ten minutes if they let him. But Feuilly has a hidden cuddly side that only Bahorel gets to see. He’ll just sit beside him (or on him) and cling to him like a koala. Most of the time, since he’s always tired, he’ll fall asleep like that and has to be carried to bed.

27. Nicknames for each other ? “dumbass”, “idiot”, “dork”, “nerd”…. They are adorable. When Bahorel feels romantic, it’s “my dork” or “my nerd”. He’s also the only one using “bro” as a term of endearment. Feuilly personnaly likes “my sweet potato” better.

28. Who decorates the apartment ? Both. Bahorel has more knickknacks, picture frames, an expensive hi-fi chain, his boxing equipment… while Feuilly has his fan collection and about a gazillion books. Before coming to live in Bahorel’s flat, he was constantly torn about having to get rid of some of his books because of the lack of space. He abandonned a few of them at Jehan’s or Combeferre’s place, especially because they keep borrowing or lending them to each other. But when they moved, Bahorel pushed aside his own books to make space for them. They still cover almost every flat surface in their appartment.

29. Who initiates duets ? Bahorel loves to sing. Loud. Like, belt out musical numbers or Disney songs. And always tries to get Feuilly to join. It works only half of the time. But on evenings, he is the karaoke monster, and this time, he’s very adamant about Feuilly singing with him. And he won’t stop until he can get Feuilly to join.

30. What do they do to cheer each other up ? Bahorel pampers Feuilly like crazy as soon as he gets the occasion : warm baths, good food, foot massages…. He’ll use every technique in the book and more, to make his little redhead feel loved. The best way is still sugary treats, freshly baked, and presented with a hot chocolate or hidden in his lunch bag before he leaves for work. Feuilly too reaches the heart through the stomach, but he uses homemade dishes, carefully prepared. A good bowl of homemade soup can do wonders for Bahorel’s mood. He sometimes slides little origami animals in his book bag, or little messages. And of course, they send each other pics of funny things or things they know the other likes.

Daily life

31. Who is more tech-savvy ? Depends. Bahorel is the most savvy for everything mechanical. He can fix or built every machine under the sun. But Feuilly is the most savvy for everything about computers and the like.

32. Who drinks all of the coffee ? Feuilly. His coffee absorbtion is second only to Enjolras’, and it’s the only thing keeping him alive and together. He needs his morning coffee first thing in the morning, or he turns into a weird, sleepy-but-murderous beast.

33. Who does what chores ? They try to share equally, according to their workload. Since Feuilly always takes on study time, homework clubs and a few others, he often comes home later than Bahorel, who cooks or, when he can, orders food. They do the dishes together afterwards. When Feuilly cooks, during week-ends, he’s the one doing them, and Bahorel does the cleaning. Feuilly takes care of the laundry, because he’s very insistant on his shirts being just the right kind of soft, and Bahorel doesn’t always read labels before shoving everything in the machine. Bahorel then takes care of the grocery shopping, and takes his sweet time doing it.

34. Who kills the bugs ? Do you really want to be subjected to a two-hours rant by Combeferre on the bugs’ importance and why it’s a bad idea to kill them ? (Feuilly can do the part, but his rants tend to be shorter. And angrier. And with more threats of violence. Just don’t do it.)

35. Who makes the bed in the mornings ? No one. Feuilly gets up before Bahorel so he can’t make it, and he’s too tired when he comes home to care about it. Bahorel just doesn’t care.

36. Who starts getting into holidays way before they should ? Both. Bahorel is more open about it, busting out the sweaters, the hats, the cookies and the songs. Of course, Christmas is his favourite, but he does the same with the other holidays. Except that he doesn’t wear the holidays sweaters because he’s always too warm, and he throws them on Feuilly instead. Feuilly loves holidays too, now that he has people to celebrate them with, and always gets into the spirit very early on. He’s more lowkey than Bahorel, except for the holidays sweaters, that he wears with pride.

37. Who initiates the couple selfies ? Bahorel. He loves grabbing Feuilly and squishing him to take a selfie. No need for a special occasion. He just goes for it whenever he feels like it. He already did it before he and Feuilly were a couple, to Feuilly’s greatest surprise (and growl, and push). Now, he’s used to it, and always gives him his best goofy face.

38. Who always ends up with too much junk food after grocery shopping ? Don’t blame Feuilly. He loves corn chips and cream & onion-flavored ones. Besides, he needs to buy lots because no corn chim is safe when Bahorel is home from the gym and hungry.

39. Who asks to keep the abandoned kitten/puppy they find in the rain ? Bahorel can’t resist anything cute looking at him with big eyes. He jokes that that’s how Feuilly got him. Feuilly always punches him, but neither he can’t resist a poor, lost animal.

40. So how many pets, and who rememebers to feed them ? Bahorel has never lived in a house without a dog. So of course, when he got his own flat, he got the dog that goes with it. Everyone who sees him thinks he’s got a MANLY dog. Like, a German Shepherd, or a pack of huskies. Or a wolf. But no, he has a small corgi named Elizabeth, who follows him excitedly around the flat. She loves to sleep on Feuilly’s lap while he works or read too. Feuilly found four kittens in a box near the river. He was absolutly fuming when coming home, groaning about heartless people abandonning small kittens to their death. Bahorel distracted him by proposing to name them and finding them something to eat while they tried to find a no-kill shelter where they would find a family. Needless to say, they never needed to find another family. Honoré, Emile, Théophile and The Wild Beast have now become a fixture in their home, and they wouldn’t imagine a life without them (well, maybe they could imagine it without them climbing the curtains).

41. Who gets babied when they’re sick ? Bahorel can’t say he loves it when Feuilly is sick, because his tiny redhead is miserable, he’s awfully grumpy, and he still insists on going to work. Bahorel has to physically stick him in bed, and even then, there’s a good 50% chances that he’s going to try and get up again. But once he’s settled, Bahorel has lots of time to take care of him and baby him as much as he wants, without Feuilly running away because he’s late again.When he’s sick, Bahorel turns into a big baby. He lays in bed and alterns between complaining that he’s bored, and that he’s dying. Feuilly checks on him before, between and after work, brings him food and obstinatly refuses to bring him the TV too because he has to rest. Bahorel pouts, but he’s secretly happy to have Feuilly fuss over him (in his restrained way, of course).

42. Who brings breakfast to bed ? To bring breakfast to Feuilly, you need him in bed in the first time. He only gets served in bed when he’s sick. Sometimes, Bahorel will get a cup of coffee on the nightstand, but that’s only when Feuilly is not taken by his morning activities.

43. Who has sole posession of the T.V. remote ? As for movies, it’s a fierce battle, that can only be settled by a wrestling match on the couch. Or paper-rock-scissors.

44. Who comes home drunk at 3am ? Bahorel. Nevermind he has to go to work in the morning, he’s not going to pass a celebration, be it Grantaire’s first art gig, Courfeyrac’s succesful inspection, Combeferre wearing a new bowtie or Joly punching an idiot in the nose (never, ever insinuate that Musichetta is less than perfect). He’s going to celebrate, and celebrate with dignity. Meaning he’ll get totally shitfaced. But whatever his alcohol content is, he’ll always tiptoe around the flat and slide himself into the bed veeery slowly as not to wake Feuilly. Who’ll always open an eye and grumble that the bed is cold.

45. What do they do when they’re away from each other ? Complain Bahorel does his usual tour of the gyms, the Musain, the other coffee shops, sees his friends, punches a few idiots, the usual. He keeps himself busy so he doesn’t feel lonely, and often invites himself to spend the night at one of the others’ place. More often than not, Grantaire offers him his couch and a sympathetic ear, and they watch awful movies and drink until dawn (except when they have early classes).When Bahorel is away, Feuilly sticks to his usual schedule of work, friends and failing to get to bed early because he got caught in a very good book or a philosophical discussion. He just hugs Bahorel’s plush dog tighter when sleeping.And of course, they both send each other messages / call / skype each other as much as they can.

46. What are they afraid of ? Bahorel isn’t afraid of anything ! He’s wild, he’s audacious ! And he certainly doesn’t try to hide behind a pillow each time he watches a movie with possessed little girls. Feuilly is scared to be left alone. Spending time in several orphanages, waiting to be adopted, gave him some abandonment issues, and he’s often kinda sure that he’s going to be overlooked in favor of someone younger, cuter or more affectionnate. He’s working on it, and tries not to be too clingy, but he sometimes still lays awake at night, sure that Bahorel is going to leave him for someone better.

47. How often do they fight ? More often than they’d like, but way less often than before. They may love each other a lot, they still are very different people with very different experience.  Bahorel may forget that he was more privilegied than Feuilly, or Feuilly be too vehement, especially when he’s overtred, and their arguments may devolve into shouting matchs. They try to talk it out now, to step back and calm down before saying things they would regret, and they do their best to avoid going to bed angry. Sometimes, too, especially when they started living together, Bahorel would forget that Feuilly needed his sleep, and would make way too much noise. After Feuilly ended up almost puncheing him, he vowed to remember to be careful and discreet when he knows that his favourite redhead needs sleep.

48. What would they do if the other one was hurt ? The skies take pity on those who dared to hurt Feuilly. If they escape him, they will have to answer for it before Bahorel. And Bahorel will probably beat them to a pulp. Feuilly would not run after the culprits because revenge wouldn’t help anything (but he would totally punch them a bit if he can). He would spend time at Bahorel’s bedside, trying to hide his worry as not to attract attention away from him. And cuddle him to death once everything is fine again.

And once they have kids…

49. How many kids ? Probably several. Feuilly wants to give all those kids in foster care a taste of a real family. He and Bahorel take inside several pre-teens and teens, because they know those kids are often overlooked because they are “less cute” than younger children. It’s not easy at first, those kids are often scared, angry, and wild. But they have time, and they are patient enough to make it work. Their family is weird and mismatched, and they love it like that.

50. Who is the stricter parent ? Feuilly. There’s no need trying to get away with not doing your homework, because he’s adamant about them being done. Education is very important if you want to go far in life ! He’s as strict for the rest : chores, politness, …. Nothing gets past him. Bahorel tends to be more lenient because life needs to be fun, and chores are no fun ! But since he knows that it’s better for the kids to get the same instructions from both parents, he follows this timeless advice : What Would Feuilly Do ? It works.

51. Who stays up late helping with homework ? Feuilly wants to stay up late to help, but it’s already 10 PM and he has to get up at ugh o’clock for his morning classes. So Bahorel often picks him up and carries him to bed, groaning and arguing, to the greatest delight of the kids. Then he’s the one sitting with the kids to help. Feuilly can’t help but get out of bed to correct him (”no, Bahorel, you can’t tell the kids monarchy is “fucking bullshit”, they will repeat it at school and then you’ll have to meet their teacher again.”)

52. Who likes to take the family out and for what ? Feuilly is partial to educative-but-fun outings. Museums are his go-to, but he loves gardens, art exhibitions, movies, days at the library…. He takes great care of choosing age-appropriate things, so everyone has fun. Bahorel likes outside activities more, like walks, football matches and such, but he likes taking them to the spa, hairdresser and on shopping trips too. They are both often reminded that no, protests and such don’t make good outings for the children.