#i am dipping the cookies in my tea like some sort of god-king

[mysticarcanum]

tell me why my brain can't fathom buying snack foods at the grocery store. like. my dad never had snack foods in the house and now i don't know how to buy them. i bought some cookies today and i felt like some sort of maniac but they're so good......do people just. buy snacks? all the time? how do you do that?

[chatteringbluemagpie]

Talkin’ ‘bout a Revolution: Alley Way

Summary: “Well that could have gone better.” Enjolras mutters, cracking his knuckles, already stiffening beneath purpling skin. “Oh come on it wasn’t that bad.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, one of them a bright blue against the purple bruise along his cheek, because someone couldn’t resist talking, couldn’t resist it even if it would ruin everything he’d spent the evening working on. “I had to punch the guy because you screwed up.”

Warnings: Smutty Smut

Pairings: Technically Enjolras/Grantaire 

Characters: Enjolras, Grantaire

                                                                   “Well that could have gone better.” Enjolras mutters, cracking his knuckles, already stiffening beneath purpling skin. “Oh come on it wasn’t that bad.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, one of them a bright blue against the purple bruise along his cheek, because someone couldn’t resist talking, couldn’t resist it even if it would ruin everything he’d spent the evening working on. “I had to punch the guy because you screwed up.” “I hardly screwed up.” “Well I was doing fine until you opened your damn mouth!” Enjolras whirls round to face him, and Grantaire’s watching him so impassively, like he honestly doesn’t give a damn. “You think you’re so bloody clever.” “Well I do have some exam results to say so.” He shrugs and Enjolras groans, pushing a hand through his hair. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. We don’t even have to work together, it wasn’t even my bloody idea and yet here I am stuck with you!” Grantaire’s face doesn’t change, and it only makes him more annoyed. “You stroll in looking so damn cocky, like you own the damn world, like you know so much better than anyone else, more than those of us who have been working on this for years. And it’s just bloody infuriating watching you being king of the world, and then messing everything up and pretending it doesn’t bloody matter!” “If you know I’m like that, why do you let it get to you?” Enjolras shakes his head incredulously. “You think you’re so-“ “So?” Grantaire quirks an eyebrow and Enjolras wants to punch him, but all at once he finds himself grabbing the front of Grantaire’s shirt and pulling him into a rough kiss. Grantaire’s hands find themselves tangling into Enjolras’s hair to pull him tighter to himself. “Well, this wasn’t the confession I was expecting.” “Oh would you just shut up for one minute.” Enjolras mutters, pulling him back again, and their teeth knock together but neither pull away, instead Grantaire slides a hand down his back, skimming his fingers over his skin. Enjolras slips a hand under Grantaire’s shirt, moving him back against the wall. “God I’ve been waiting to find something to actually stop that smart mouth of yours.” “Well there aren’t any complaints here…” Grantaire murmurs breathily, then exhales roughly as Enjolras worms his knee between his legs. “You want me to fill my pretty mouth with something else?” Enjolras moans as Grantaire nips at his earlobe, and he can hear the smirk in his voice. “For fucks sake please do.” Grantaire spins them, Enjolras’s shoulder blades crashing against the brick wall behind him. Then he tugs at his hair, to expose his throat and place a line of kisses and bites along the skin, while his other hand moves to work the button of his jeans. Enjolras shifts into his touch as Grantaire’s fingers dip beneath the material. It briefly crosses his mind that they’re in public, only just hidden down the alley way, but they Grantaire moves to kneel and his mind goes blank because oh god his mouth isn’t just good at talking complete shit. “Fuck…” Enjolras’s hand tangles roughly into his curls, and receives a hum of contentment. “Fuck-“ “Such foul language… I’ve waited so long to get you to put your voice to better use than just ordering people around.” “I thought you were being quiet?” “Sir.” Grantaire grins at him, and Enjolras tightens his grip, and watches as Grantaire’s eyes flutter closed and he dips his head again. It doesn’t take long, and Grantaire manages to make the whole thing all the more obscene by licking his lips as he watches Enjolras, leaning heavily against the wall. “Well this is a turn of events.” Enjolras sets his jaw, pulling himself together enough to push himself away from the wall. Something about Grantaire’s face, his knowing expression that Enjolras actually wanted and enjoyed that, absolutely infuriates him. “Don’t think this means anything.” “Oh yeah, my first assumption was that blowjobs in back alleys meant true love.” Grantaire has a slight smirk on his lips, but his eyes are still flirtatious, hooded and dark. “And already you’re right back to being so bloody cocky.” “You gonna shut me up again?” Grantaire raises an eyebrow, and Enjolras stares at him. “Oh you think you’re so clever.” He mutters before he turns to stalk toward to road. “Hey! You kissed me.” Grantaire calls. “And what a bloody mistake that was! Why are you following me?” “We live in the same direction! Jesus…” Enjolras pauses, then decides to just continue stalking down the road. “If you didn’t want to do it then you should have fucking said!” “Would you just let it go?” “Hmm, let’s see… You kiss me out of nowhere, we do that and now you’re even more pissed at me than before… No.” Grantaire puts bluntly. “It shouldn’t have happened.” “No shit. But it did.” Grantaire shoves his hands into his pockets and for once he actually looks annoyed. “And I rather enjoyed it, and I know that you sure as hell did so be an adult and deal with it!” “Come back to mine.” Enjolras says impulsively, because he’s still coursing with adrenaline and dopamine and right now he doesn’t want to be having this conversation. “Jesus Christ it’s like emotional whiplash with you Apollo.” “Are you complaining?” Enjolras folds his arms. “We’re having sex right?” “No, we’re baking cookies.” He says dryly, tapping his foot. “You’re trying to get out of talking.” Grantaire grins. “I think we both do enough of it day to day.” He receives a shrug in return. “When we can talk without yelling, then we can talk. Until then…” “Gonna be a long time coming Apollo.” Grantaire’s grin turns crooked, but he places a hand on the wall next to Enjolras’s head, to better lean into the inch or so between them and close the gap. “But I can wait.”  

He wakes up before Grantaire the next morning, by some miracle apparently because the instant he moves Grantaire groans and shifts so he freezes until he drops back to sleep. He carefully extricates himself, and decides he can’t risk trying to find any decent clothes so he grabs his jeans and a t-shirt from the top of his clean laundry and puts them on in the lounge. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Grantaire it’s just that… He really doesn’t want to see Grantaire. So instead he slips out of the house, grabbing his wallet and keys, and jogs down the stairs. His favourite coffee shop is too close to home, too many windows, so he walks on until he finds a small establishment that looks like it’s probably frequented by truckers, but it’s clean enough. He orders a cappuccino and scrambled eggs on toast from the smiling waitress. It’s only when he’s staring at the sugar slowly vanishing into the milk froth on his coffee that he allows himself to pause and call himself an absolute bloody idiot. For starters he doesn’t even like Grantaire. He wouldn’t say he hates him, but the guy just has a way of getting completely under his skin, winding him up. Possibly the nearest thing he’s ever had to having his blood boil, if he’s honest. He just has such a way of talking, of getting in the way even that Enjolras can’t quite bring himself to consider him a friend, even the others from his rag-tag of vigilantes Enjolras would be beginning to consider friends and yet Grantaire hasn’t quite made it there. But you slept with him, he reminds himself and he’s about to tell himself to shut up for gods sake when the waitress reappears from the chain-mail kitchen curtain with his food. “I really love your tattoo.” She comments as she places the plate down. “Huh?” “The swallow. I’m not brave enough to get one, right wimp me.” She laughs. “Oh, right. It wasn’t so bad…” He smiles awkwardly, and she retreats behind the counter to sip her tea. He looks down at himself, completely confused by the fact that the girl is apparently seeing tattoos… And then he spots it, a swallow flying over the curve of his wrist bone, part of a trail, as it turns out, of fading birds curling down his wrist. “Shit…” He hadn’t realised Grantaire could even draw on skin, let alone how permeant this might be. What if he sees a friend, what if they see, what if they figure something out. It’s not like they’ll judge but, well, he will. Which sounds totally backward even in his own head but having anyone know about this would just… He feels ashamed. That’s the best word, he decides, cutting the corner of his toast. Not ashamed that he had sex, but ashamed that he strung someone along, someone who he doesn’t like and who doesn’t particularly like him either, and that he let it get that far. That he didn’t stop it at a kiss, at a quick touch, even at Grantaire going down on him. He took the guy home, hell now he’s gone and left a basic stranger in his house in the hope that he’ll be gone when he returns, and for what? Some fun? Stress relief? Enjolras groans, resting his head on his hand. He looks ridiculous, lying with his head next to a plate of eggs, on what is probably a very questionable table, but he probably couldn’t give less of a damn. Which is an unusual feeling. He stays in the café as long as he dares, or as long as he can before the waitress looks like she’ll come over and start chatting in the lull of the mid-morning. His flat is remarkably empty by the time he gets back, with not a thing out of place, though his bed has been made. He exhales in some sort of hideous relief, he knows eventually he’ll have to face it, next time they work together because he can’t avoid the guy forever. He supposes that’s why they always say to never sleep with your co-workers, though they never mentioned anyone who winds people up as much as Grantaire. He goes on with his day with a sense of tense relief. By the time he makes it back to his flat, shopping in tow, he’s all but released the tension weighing across his shoulders. He’s just debating what to make for dinner, pulling a few items out of his bags, when he realises that there’s someone else there with him. Grantaire is watching him from the sofa, a smirk winding its way across his features. Enjolras nearly drops the tin he’s holding. “Jesus Christ Grantaire!” “You made it back.” Enjolras put down his tin far too heavily. “Did you break into my house?” “Of course not. I just climbed the fire escape.” Enjolras doesn’t even justify that with a response, turning back to his cupboard. “Oh don’t be mad Apollo.” “I’m sorry, am I not supposed to be the slightest bit annoyed at the fact you climbed in through my window? Or that you’re just sitting here and that I could have… Hurt you?” “Oh you wouldn’t do that.” Grantaire grins cheekily. “Grantaire you know what I do for a living. You’re lucky I realised it was you!” Grantaire shrugs. “I trust you not to shoot me or whatever your preferred method would be.” Enjolras exhales roughly, running a hand through his hair. “What are you doing here?” “Well you ran off so quickly this morning I had no choice.” His smile is still infuriating and Enjolras does his best to ignore him, putting his various groceries away. “You could have just done the normal thing and forgotten the whole thing.” “Forget last night? Oh never… That was far too much fun.” “Oh good, so this is going to be my life now is it? You breaking into my house to remind me we had sex.” “I told you you wouldn’t get out of talking.” “I had to hold out some hope didn’t I?” Enjolras mutters. “Can you cook?” “What?” Grantaire chuckles. “If you insist on talking I may as well get something out of it.” Grantaire pauses, shrugs and the pushes himself up. “What do we have to start with?” To be fair, Grantaire does start cooking, but he never gets any further than chopping because somehow standing in the kitchen together turns into a stolen kiss or two which devolves further into kissing against the cabinet and then someone may end up bent over the work surface amongst breathy moans and nips and bruising fingers. “Fuck me Apollo…” Grantaire exhales shakily. “I thought I just did.” Grantaire rolls his eyes, dropping another kiss on his lips. “Talk.” “Why? This is fine.” “And here I thought you never want to see me again?” “I didn’t want to talk, if we can do that every time I can’t complain as much.” “You want a set up…” “Something like that.” He hears himself say and Jesus Christ does he actually mean that? Grantaire watches him carefully, with a look both perplexed and amused. “Do you have to do that?” Enjolras mutters, folding his arms. Grantaire only raises an eyebrow. “You may be the only person I’ve ever hated.” He tells him, scanning around to find his t-shirt. Grantaire turns to begin chopping food, completely butt-naked. “So this is all hate-fucking?” “You put it so nicely.” “Releasing all your pent up rage at the world, and directing it at me. And let’s be honest, there’s probably a lot of other pent up frustrations going on there because hoo boy have you see you? Such a workaholic. I think I’d be doing a service.” “Are you performing a ‘service’ now?” Enjolras asks, folding his arms as he leans on his counter and most decidedly not looking anywhere but the back of Grantaire’s head. “I mean I like to think I have a pretty good physique.” Grantaire shrugs. “You’re trying to wind me up.” Enjolras states. Grantaire glances over his shoulder with an infuriating hint of a smirk curling his lips. “Is it working?”