Liberte. Egalite. Fraternite.

What Happens In Vegas

While Enjolras continued to sleep, Grantaire’s attention was slowly drawn away to what he was feeling in that moment. Sat cross-legged upon the edge of the large bed in the room Enjolras had claimed when they’d arrived. Of course it wasn’t supposed to go down like that, but no one could deny Enjolras anything, and to be fair — he had paid for quite a bit of the trip himself, so in the end it was probably only fair that he got a room without having to fight the rest of them for one each night. Anyway, thinking about his feelings wasn’t something that he really liked to think about more than he really had to, but he realised that, oui, he really did have to think about all of this — what it made him feel, how he felt in general from the activities of the night before, what he remembered of the night before, and how the picture perfect scene of Enjolras sleeping in bed was doing terrible butterfly-type things to his stomach. (Fuck him). And he had to get his mind straight (ha!) before Enjolras awoke himself, that was, but he didn’t much want to think about all of that. He wanted to ignore his pounding headache: he wanted to ignore the way the rays of sunlight burned against his overly sensitive retinas if he looked too directly into the light streaming in from outside: he wanted to ignore the fact that his mind was still too much of an exhausted mess to really remember anything past some really bad feelings deep in his stomach: and he really, really wanted to ignore more than anything how he was starting to feel as he watched the other sleep. Because they weren’t good feelings (well technically they were), they were feelings that would get Grantaire into a lot of trouble. Feelings that would make everything end badly for him, feelings that would leave him cold and alone in the rain at the end of the track.

He had no umbrella, and no one offering to share theirs with. He couldn’t afford to feel things about Enjolras.

—But that didn’t stop him.

Because — oh! he looked ever so peaceful. And it was a frowned upon deed to wake a sleeping God from his rest. Not that Grantaire wanted to, non, no he wanted more than anything to crawl under the covers with him and sleep as close to the other as was possible without waking him. It wasn’t fair to have him look so welcoming when asleep, when dead to the world. It wasn’t fair to have him looking so comfortable, and warm. Enticing. Because it grew harder and harder for the artist to deny himself that simple pleasure of being close to another human being in a beautifully innocent way. And as he belatedly realised the blond was finally waking, he found himself oddly bitter that he had been woken, that he hadn’t gotten to sleep with Enjolras longer than the few hours he’d been granted.

And then Enjolras was getting out of bed, and he was naked — he was fucking naked and Granaire was sure that he was once again suffering from a silent heart attack, because not did that only mean he could see him now in all his glory if he only so took the chance to look, but that they had had sex last night after all! He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good or a bad thing, he’d not really thought about his feelings for Enjolras much before. He knew they were complicated, and that they were there, but he hadn’t once thought about it or named them. But here they were. And Grantaire knew right away that he had been pining all along. That he’d had a crush on the other all along. And he was drowning. It couldn’t be returned, right? Drunken—Really drunken sex didn’t count…. right?

❝I’m—I’m wearing your clothes because mine are far too ruined to wear. And I didn’t really want to go out into the front room and find my own bags while completely naked….❞ he responded, and oh God how he wanted to jump him right then and there, with him only slightly dressed, his shirt undone. Grantaire had spent the time trying to stare wide-eyed down at the bed instead of spending watching the blond change, which turned out to be a lot harder than he thought, but he did respect the other’s privacy. Even if he was walking around shamelessly in the nude. The moment Enjolras had reached for his hands, however, his head had snapped up. Deep blue eyes meeting lighter ones that were searching. And now he was looking the other directly in the face as he spoke, not having to do what he was doing, he new what the other was looking for: that ring. He remembered the ring, and he realised the implications of that because Enjolras was wearing one, too, but it might not have meant what the blond obviously thought it meant. Maybe they just got matching rings…. ❝And maybe we’re not…. you know. Maybe we’re just— I don’t know….❞

Grantaire tried not to feel disappointed when the blond dropped his hands, leaving them falling to his lap. Missing the warmth of his skin against his own. He tried not to: but he failed.

#scxptique #what happens in vegas #not as long as yours i'm sorry

"I proposed to you last night. And I have a hazy memory of a chapel. We got married. I'm pretty sure Courfeyrac and Jehan were our witnesses." If the situation were different, he might have considered how that night may have been his first sexual experience, but he was more concerned about how he and Grantaire had actually gotten married. Married of all things, in Vegas. The purpose of their being there wasn't for two of them to stupidly get married while drunk. It was supposed to be to celebrate Combeferre's upcoming marriage to Eponine. They weren't supposed to be that foolish. But Enjolras and alcohol was not a great combination. He usually tried to avoid getting drunk, but since it was a special occasion he had let go...and now this had happened. He and Grantaire had gotten married of all things. Pretending it hadn't happened wasn't going to bring them any good. That, and they had to make sure to divorce when the opportunity came. Because...well Grantaire deserved to marry someone he actually cared for, and as far as Enjolras had been able to tell, until this evening, he hadn't seemed to like or agree with anything Enjolras said.

As for Enjolras...well he hadn't imagined himself getting married for quite some time, let alone to anyone in his group of friends. Plus, this was something he wouldn't be able to keep from his parents. Somehow he knew this would get back to them, and Enjolras's father was not very...accepting of Enjolras's choices in certain aspects. And his mother would no doubt be offended that she hadn't been informed so she could throw some horribly extravagant affair. If Enjolras ever had real plans to marry, he probably would have tried to keep it a quiet sort of event. He didn't really want to subjugate a lover to either of his parents. It was strange though, he knew he had been complaining about how people disregard gay marriage in America, and got into an argument with some drunk men at the bar, but he wasn't quite sure how that had gone to him proposing to Grantaire, and strangely enough, Grantaire saying yes of all things.

Why had Grantaire said yes? Sure, he was drunk as well, but Enjolras always thought that Grantaire could hold his liquor better. Certainly better than Enjolras could. But wondering why it had happened didn't change the fact that it had. He looked Grantaire over and sighed. "You can keep the clothes then. I think they look good on you." His cheeks flamed slightly and he remembered he hadn't finished getting dressed, going back to buttoning his shirt and then pulling on his socks and his shoes. He was ready to get out of that bedroom and to speak to Combeferre about last night. Certainly, his best friend wasn't responsible for his behavior, but Enjolras did think his friend would have put in more of an effort to keep Enjolras from doing something so downright stupid. And Courfeyrac as well. Enjolras did have to wonder how Courfeyrac had decided witnessing for them was a good idea. Enjolras ran a hand through his hair and stepped toward the door of the bedroom. "We should probably ask the others what happened, if we really are married then. I know it's inconvenient for you, but if we are, would you mind if we hold off on the divorce until Combeferre and Eponine have said their vows? I don't want to detract from their moment with something like this."

werawerawrewaew-deactivated2014

Excuses

She had barely even been awake for an hour, only fresh out of the shower and still without coffee, when Marius had showed up, expecting her to be ready for the meeting. Given that she didn’t have a car, and he was only next door, she had to accept his offer… oh, and the fact that this put her much closer to work after. It wasn’t like she really cared about the meetings, and while she did fancy herself in love with Marius, sometimes he could be a little dull, especially at these meetings.

Still, even though she had the dread of going to work halfway through, and she would rather sleep an hour longer, and Marius was becoming even more oblivious each day, they were interesting… and not because of the cynical comments coming from the one drunk that sat in the corner. No, they were interesting, because she got to hear all about how pretty boys that studied at universities thought that they could change the world.

Her hair had just managed to make it into a messy braid before she was being pulled inside, and almost immediately Marius was going to sit with his friends. She, instead, would sit by the door, knowing that she could only stay for a while. If she stayed the entire time, she would be late to work, and if she was late - not an option.

Letting out a sigh, she glanced for her normal chair. A pity she didn’t make enough the night before to have a few drinks… it would make the rest of her night go far smoother and-

And there was a marble man, whom she had never spoken to, heading her direction. Merde.

#jecrismonhistoire #excuses #so sorry for how long this took #also enjolras is an ass

Enjolras tried not to take it personally that someone left during his meetings...okay that was a lie. He took it very personally. He felt that anyone who appeared at the beginning of his meeting should stay to the end. If they didn't want to come back, they could leave after that. But one young woman kept returning and leaving halfway through. It had certainly tested his patience, He had put up with it long enough, but today Enjolras planned on having words with her.

He had considered speaking to Marius about her, as the two often came together, but he figured it was better to go straight to the person who kept leaving. He had set up everything for the meeting and then waited for her to appear. His friends would wait for the meeting to begin. It was more important to figure out why this individual kept leaving. Or at least, Enjolras found it more important than starting the meeting on time, a rare occasion for him.

The seemingly marble man made his way over to her and sat down across from her, a polite smile crossing his face, though he was never one for pleasantries. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I have seen you attend several meetings, and every time you leave before we are finished. I find it disrespectful to me and my friends, who put in so much time and effort. If you're really uninterested in what we're doing then just don't come. I'd rather you didn't show up at all than leave in the middle of each meeting."

illumiinet-archive-deactivated2

The Best Kept Secret || closed

illumiinet-archive-deactivated2

"I know, I know you have," Combeferre sighed and slowly sank down into one of the chairs at their table, rubbing his temple softly. He’d been attempting desperately to think of how to phrase it, and there was no good way that he had come up with.

"You’re not going to be happy with what you hear, I can tell you that much now," Combeferre started, looking over at him. "If I had my way you would never find out. It’s not something I’m proud of, and I wouldn’t have started it if i had no other option. But… between bills and loans.. and the funds from my parents running out I didn’t have many options. With all my work at the hospital I don’t have time to get a good paying job so I," he paused to sigh, looking away from Enjolras, "I decided to resort to something i would otherwise have never considered. I’ve been…. selling… myself."

Combeferre cringed internally at how terrible that sounded, but he hoped that it would be enough and Enjolras would not make him repeat it.

#scienceandmoths #the best kept secret

Enjolras watched his friend, arm itching with the desire to move and place a hand on Combeferre's shoulder. To show him that whatever he was concerned about wouldn't get between them. He held himself back, regrettably, and sat down across from his friend, finding it difficult to keep quiet and wait for Combeferre to say what he needed to say.

He listened and frowned as Combeferre told about the bills and loans, something he hadn't told Enjolras or Courfeyrac about, and he had to force himself to calm down as he finally understood what was going on. Combeferre was selling himself. He had decided to take that measure rather than ask for help from either of his best friends. That bothered him greatly, but not nearly as much as knowing that Combeferre had felt that it was necessary to do so. "You're right..." He said after a long pause. "I'm not happy with what I'm hearing. I'm not happy that you didn't tell me or Courfeyrac what was going on. You know that either of us would have done whatever we could to help you."

Enjolras clenched his fists, more upset with himself that he hadn't noticed that Combeferre had been worried about bills and everything else. He felt like a poor friend for not having seen that. "And I can't believe you're allowing yourself to be used that way. Have you at least been safe about it?" He took a deep breath and let it out again, trying to keep himself from getting angry. He wouldn't even know where to direct that anger. "You have to quit. I will do whatever I can to help you pay your bills, but I can't allow my best friend to do something like this. It's just...you deserve so much better than this."

scienceandmoths replied to your post:scienceandmoths replied to your post:...

scienceandmoths.tumblr….

merci. <3 you are most wonderful.

#scienceandmoths #ooc

scienceandmoths replied to your post: scienceandmoths replied to your post: ...

we can always pick our thread back up if you want~

I would love that. <3 More Combeferre interaction will please me greatly.

#scienceandmoths #ooc

scienceandmoths replied to your post: I fear that it may look like I’m only ...

i suggest you follow me cause I’m awesome ( <3 )

I do follow your awesome self. I admire you from afar as one -coughs Grantaire- would admire Enjolras.

#scienceandmoths

I fear that it may look like I'm only interested in rping with a few select individuals which isn't true at all. I'm just a bit shy about trying to ask others to rp with me, though I would really really love to rp with Combeferres and Courfeyracs and Pontmercys, and everyone out there. I feel like I might be alienating people, and I really don't want to do that so...come plot with me? Or suggest people I could follow? Or both?

#ooc

marvelwintersoldier

#my face #it's images like this that make me want some sort of army au

What Happens In Vegas

closed starter for [ marbleloverofliberte. ]

And — oh! — ow! what the fuck was the horrible loud thud that was cruel enough to wake him from his deep, and restful sleep? Who in the fucking world was even awake at (what he guessed) was the morning? No one was supposed to be awake, everyone was supposed to be sleeping until either they could literally sleep no more and their bodies forced them awake, or one of them dragged them up and out to the nearest fucking bar. But no, someone was up, and someone had thought it nice, and was okay, to be loud enough on leaving their suite to wake the entire bloody hotel in the process. And that was the only reason that Grantaire jerked awake before the sun had gone back down from its lovely little place in the sky, was thanks to the sound of a door slamming shut somewhere in the world around him. That meant — a.k.a. somewhere in the large suite their entire group had rented out together for Combeferre’s bachelor party. And wherever he was in said suite himself, he did not know, what he did know though was that it didn’t sound close enough for him to have had fallen somewhere in the front room, so, with the soft press of something beneath him, and something warm above and beside him, he was happy to wager that he was one of the lucky ones to make it into one of three bedrooms before anyone else stole them away for themselves. Because a free-for-all was a better way to decide sleeping arrangements when a large group goes to fucking Vegas to celebrate someone getting married in a few weeks.

His eyes had opened at first, but got no further than a half-a-second glance before they closed against the blinding light that burnt his exhausted deep blues with a harsh rod of sun.

It took him what felt like forever to open them again, and when he did he realised startlingly what the warmth beside him had been; a body. Not just any body, but Enjolras' body. A sleeping, breathing, beautiful looking in the morning light, Enjolras. Lying there. Looking all fuck kinds of peaceful in bed like he hadn't been out with them, drinking heavily, the night before. At least, Grantaire was ninety percent sure that he' been out with them, he remembered that he was in some sort of veiled memories, but… perhaps he had imagined that wrong. He looked far too, well, not fucked up to have been partying the nice before. And hard. The sun graced itself over the curves and contours of Enjolras’ face, like friendly silk rays that only wanted to heighten the other’s allure and beauty. To make him look all that more special than he already did.

Grantaire was sure, with the sudden lack of air getting to his lungs and the tightening of his chest — that he was about to have a heart attack. He was going to die. He was going to die because he was in a bed with Enjolras and no one else was in the room with them and fuck, he hadn’t even checked himself over yet and he was pretty sure, like one hundred percent sure, that he was naked, as well. Whether the blond was or not he didn’t know, the duvet covered him from shoulder-to-toe, but the fact that he was was bad enough. Really bad. Terribly bad.

—What had they done?

( he was covered in bruises upon further inspection. his clothes were scattered between door and bed. and this was very much the room enjolras’ things were in yesterday. he borrowed his clothes. it was the least he could do. and then he sat. at the end of the bed, staring with wide eyes. )

#scxptique #what happens in vegas

With a party as eventful as Combeferre's bachelor party had been, it was no huge surprise that Enjolras slept in a little longer. It was sleep that he greatly needed overall as he had a habit of running on less than sufficient amounts of it. As Enjolras started coming to, he couldn't help but groan as the light was too bright and his head ached, and really he should've stopped with one drink. But Combeferre had requested that he relax and let loose, and Enjolras certainly had. The blond yawned and slowly his eyes opened, sitting up as they did. It took him a moment or two to adjust to his surroundings. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and even then he was confused to find a familiar someone in his room. Not just in his room, but wearing his clothes. His eyebrows furrowed and he pushed the blankets aside, slightly surprised that he hadn't worn boxers to bed as he usually did. He was completely naked. Enjolras yawned and got to his feet, shuffling to the drawers where he had extra clothing. He grabbed what he needed, setting it on his bed and then finally taking note again that there really was someone else in his room. "Ahh Grantaire. What are you..." He stared for a moment and frowned slightly. "Why are you wearing my clothes?" He was quite confused by that, but didn't pause from what he was doing, tugging on a fresh pair of red boxers, and dark jeans after that. He then grabbed a button up shirt, buttoning carefully and looking down to find himself bewildered by the feeling of a ring as he buttoned. He stared at it, and it was ridiculous in appearance (gambling dice on it and all), but it gave him an uneasy feeling. So much so that without asking if Grantaire would mind, he reached out to grab Grantaire's hands, examining them carefully, grimacing as he found what he was looking for. Grantaire had an identical ring on his finger. Of course that didn't necessarily mean what Enjolras was thinking, but some of his memories from the night before were coming back to him.

(Les Amis moving from casino to casino Enjolras discussing how important the right to marriage was and growling at the people who inevitably disagreed with him /mainly other intoxicated men/ and though he couldn't quite remember how, he decided to prove it was important and he ended up proposing to Grantaire.)

Had he really proposed to Grantaire? It seemed to be the only logical conclusion to make. And not only proposing, he actually seemed to have gone through with an actual wedding. Enjolras couldn't help but wonder how it was that Combeferre never stopped him from doing something so ridiculously foolish. He was sorely tempted to go complain at him, but he wasn't sure where Combeferre was, and at the same time, he had a hazy memory of saying to Ferre, 'I need to do this Ferre. Otherwise those guys will think I'm a coward and I don't practice what I preach.' His words had certainly been slurred at that point. He vaguely recalled Combeferre pointing out that marriage between two people wasn't something done just to prove it could be done. Enjolras had regretfully brushed him off. And now he was in his bedroom with Grantaire and he just knew that they had actually gotten married. Merde. It was after a moment or two that he realized he was still holding onto Grantaire's hands, and he quickly let go, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Well....this situation is not exactly ideal....um....perhaps we should...talk about this."

You're The Only Light I See

It didn’t sound ridiculous.

The last thing that it sounded was ridiculous, it sounded many things but nowhere near anything akin to that, because even though Grantaire did not know personally what Enjolras was now going through with having one of his most important senses taken away from him, even though he had nothing to compare it to in any way — he could understand. He understood it all, and it was almost unnerving, the ease in which he found that he could put himself in the other’s shoes and simply imagine what it must have been like for him. How it must have felt, how terrifying, and how the blond himself must have been feeling, pathetic and useless, all the while. Ever since he was told that yes, the loss of sight was, sadly, going to be permanent. And there was nothing that they could do to fix it. Nothing at all. And he knew, he knew how Enjolras must have felt then, like a silly little child only just learning how to walk, and Grantaire understood the frustration of that. And he wished more than anything that he could help in some better way. He wished he could make the blond smile or laugh for more than a second before his mind was clouded with deprecating thoughts. Grantaire knew them well enough in his bouts of melancholy that they were no friends, and that nothing good ever came of them. He wished he could give Enjolras his sight back, he wished he could give him all the skills he would need without it with a click of his fingers. He wished that he could go back in time and stop the rally from happening and save all his friends from the pain it had caused each and every one of them. He wished he could do something other than be the unwanted, next to everyone else in their group, carer for their leader.

But he couldn’t. The sceptic could not do a single one of those things. So, he continued on being the one thing that he could, whether he was truly wanted there or not; he continued to assist, and he continued to follow.

❝You’re not being ridiculous, feeling that way it’s not—it’s not stupid or whatever else you’re going to say of think that it is,❞ replied Grantaire carefully, his words chosen with a slow precision as each passed his lips. He did not, for once, want to say something that would rile the other up and get a strong reaction out of him, non, for once he needed the mood between them to stay calm. Because anything else would only cause what they were doing to end badly for the both of them, and halfway up a flight of stairs, he could not risk it. (—You see, Enjolras, he could be responsible sometimes. He could care, just as deeply as the rest of them. Perhaps even more so, if only he would allow it). ❝But you have to keep in mind that just because you find this hard when you wouldn’t have even spared it a single thought before doesn’t make it pathetic that you do now— because you’re trying to live without one of the senses you really need to not worry about living day-by-day things. And you’re doing so well so far, and you’re taking it better than most people would. Even if you’re lying and putting on a brave, hard Enjolras exterior right now. You can’t rate this alongside how you lived before, because that’s not fair on you, it’s different now. And if you were in my place and I or someone else were in yours, you would trying to tell them something of the same and you know it. You’re allowed to be proud about this, Enjolras. You should be.❞

#scxptique #you're the only light I see #blind verse

It was terrible for Enjolras to have so much pressure to do better. Not only pressure given from himself, but pressure that came from his parents, who were judgmental, and saw this as an opportunity to get Enjolras away from his goals. Because, as they so nicely put, why would anyone listen to a blind man? Doubts was what Enjolras had now. Doubts for all manner of things. But it was not in him to give up. He couldn't let himself do that even though it was hard to imagine himself doing what he had always been doing now. Somehow he didn't think it would go as well if he tried to remain the leader of Les Amis. A leader had to be able to keep the group's respect as well as be able to keep them under control when a meeting was in progress. But he doubted he would be able to do such a thing if he couldn't see when people were talking among one another and not listening, or if they were doing other distracting things.

His heart was racing, as his anxiety and fear kept pushing against his stubborn determination to do well. He took a deep breath and let it out again as he attempted to get up another step. He grit his teeth, and after a moment, he succeeded. He didn't let himself smile this time, but he felt moderately pleased that he had done it. That was some step in the right direction. The fact that Grantaire was supporting him so well, also helped. "I can't help but rate it with what I've done before. It seems so little compared to all the things I've accomplished, and all the things I want to accomplish still. I feel so very limited right now, and it's a hard thing to swallow." Still, the thought of Grantaire being in his situation now made him shudder. He added, "if you were in my place, I would never be able to forgive myself. I can't imagine...I mean you're an artist...that would be...so very cruel..." Enjolras murmured softly, gripping Grantaire's arm and sighing. "I don't want to imagine any of my friends in such a position. But I'm sure you're right anyway. In a way you've made me feel better because I'd rather it was me than any of our friends."

It took a very long time, but they eventually did make it up all those stairs, and standing at the top, Enjolras took several deep breaths before he walked, with Grantaire's support, towards his front door. Enjolras reached into his pocket for his key, feeling it's shape and reaching up to try to unlock the door. His eyebrows furrowed. "Where's the keyhole. It's here right? Are we at the right door? We must be."

The Proposal

Grantaire had been putting his own bag away, starting to fall into the seat next to his boss, a.k.a. his temporary fiancé and then fucking husband, when he was basically barked at to tell the man about his family. Which was, well, great. Just great. That sounded completely and utterly like they were in a relationship, getting ordered around like that, and outside of the bedroom, too! (Tsk tsk, Enjolras). Rather sheepishly, thanks to the shock of the sudden and unexpected demand, he lowered himself down into the seat and side-eyed the other in judgemental silence for a few moments. He was allowed to do that, you see, after everything Enjolras was dragging him through, after the possibility of going to fucking jail because of him, he was allowed to judge the other man. And even if none of that was happening, he hadn’t been the most gracious boss over all these years, anyway. So, Grantiare didn’t give a single fuck about any of it. He would judge until the damned cows came home, and then continue to do so after — unflinchingly.

❝Well, I have a younger sister, Gabrielle,❞ he started, getting himself comfortable after buckling up, too. The way the other gripped his armrest did not go unnoticed by him, but he got the feeling his head would be torn off if he brought it up, so he didn’t. ❝She’s nice. Friendly, kind, caring, all that rubbish and more, but I still love her more than anything anyway. My mother is like her, kind of, sometimes, but a lot more reserved — and religious. She used to be terribly so when I was really young but…. she’s not really that bad anymore, grown out of the hypocritical side of religion, you see. And my father is, uh, he’s a professor and…. we could get along a lot better. And let’s just leave it at that. You don’t need to know much else really, I’m a private person, not like I talk about my family all the time anyway. You’ll find enough out about them during the visit to pass whatever inspection we’ll be given, I’m sure.❞

He cleared his throat and looked past him out of the window. ❝What about you, what’s your family like, Monsieur Enjolras?❞

#scxptique #the proposal au

Enjolras’s anxiety and fear only grew as he sat there, Grantaire’s attitude hardly helping. He had forgotten the stupid pills that would help keep him calm, and it was showing. His hands were already trembling and the plane hadn’t even moved yet. He was able to distract himself by listening to Grantaire speak about his family. Thankfully he had answered him and given him something else to think about. Enjolras was barely staying calm as it was. If Grantaire had simply ignored it, he might have started ranting about the chances of a plane crash, and how one would even survive. "How much younger is she? Your sister. Does she hate that you work out here? Because it is fairly far from home isn't it." Not that Enjolras could judge. He was pretty far from home himself. And he was working non-stop to be able to remain away from home. Not that he didn't want to go back to his country one day, but he didn't want to be forced there, and he didn't want to do it when he was in a position of failure as he would be if he were deported.

"Right, well they sound nice enough. I won't ask you too many more questions. Though I am curious. What is your father a professor of?" He flinched as the plane started to move, very slowly, and an eye glanced over as the flight attendant gave the information on safety that he couldn't ignore. His breathing quickened, and he quickly pinched himself to keep himself from panicking or hyperventilating or anything else. Enjolras blinked in surprise at the question, and he took a moment to remember he even had parents, shutting the window so that he wouldn't completely panic. "I was not so fortunate to have any siblings. My mother does all manner of horrendous charity galas because she thinks she's helping people, but she's only helping specific causes that suit her. My parents are fairly wealthy, but they don't do enough good with the many they have."

Enjolras scowled, irritated just by thinking of his parents. "My mother works with fashion in some way, and fortunately has very little free time. My father is a government official, with unfortunately bigoted principles. His desire is for me to go into politics as well, but I think he'd be horrified by what choices I'd make if I were to do so. I don't particularly have anything nice to say about my parents. They won't be showing up for the wedding. In fact I'd prefer to just tell your family they're dead. It'd be much easier for everyone involved."

Like A Virgin

And oh, Grantaire was left standing there on the stairs with the other smiling up at him like, well, like an idiot to put it bluntly.

He still wasn’t used to it, “it" being used to being in any way intimate with the blond that stood before him on the stairs — and, yes, of course kisses past a quick press of lips were included in that. If the sceptic looked back on the kiss and really thought about it, he would have to admit with an air of reluctance that it hadn’t exactly been all that deep of a kiss, and that, sadly to say, he had had much more intense ones with strangers in bars. But that being done and said, that didn’t make the ones he had shared with Enjolras so far, and the one that had passed between the two of them right then, any less special. Because it may not have been the best kiss in the world, it may not had sated a need within him that was growing evermore present as they days went on, which each new touch of the other’s skin against his own, with the lacing of fingers, or the brush of a hand, but it made him feel. Unlike anyone had ever been able to make Grantaire feel before. And really, that was all he needed, and he really, truly wanted. The one thing he was begrudingly grateful for, because he had taken so much care not to believing in anything, to care about anything too much. And then Enjolras had come along and, well, throw both of those things right out of the window. Ever so easily, carelessly. Without even realising it, most likely.

The way he’d moved away from his lips and feathered, light, lovely kisses across his face, made Grantaire, who had let go of Enjolras’ hands by then and had curled his own into the fabric of the blond’s shirt at the side, held on just that little bit tighter. His lashes fluttering down over the tips of his cheeks, he breathing catching just once in his chest before his lips had started to pull into that idiotic grin of his. ❝Never apologise for kissing me,❞ he told the blond once he’d stopped and pulled away, lid sliding open and darker blue eyes meeting the other’s.

And he knew Enjolras didn’t have much experience with kissing, he knew that they hadn’t been together for all that long and that the kisses they had shared hadn’t been much past simple little pecks…. and though he wanted more than that, Grantaire wouldn’t push. He wouldn’t ever push Enjolras to do something he wasn’t ready for or didn’t want t do. He would wait until the other was ready to slide his tongue into his mouth and kiss him breathless. He’d wait an enternity for that.

❝And lunch sounds nice. There are things that I might want to ask you about, but we can discuss them then. For now, feel free to put hair pulling, petting, whatever down in your little notebook. For yourself, as well.❞

#scxptique #like a virgin

Enjolras's feelings for Grantaire had taken longer to really develop. Largely because Enjolras hadn't known for a while what it was that he was really feeling. He had never been particularly good with emotions, his parents running a fairly distant household. He had opened some when he had first met Combeferre, but it wasn't until he met Courfeyrac that he got a better handle with being close with other people. Admittedly it still wasn't good enough to help him understand when his stomach tied in knots when Grantaire spoke, and when Grantaire would be drunk and flirt with others why that bothered him so much. He had been able to tell himself it was the drink that bothered him, nothing else, for a sufficiently long time. But that wasn't really true. Grantaire had made him feel uncertain, which was something he had rarely experienced before. And he was so uncertain about these things. How to even show he was interested, how to figure out if Grantaire was interested (something Courfeyrac had told him was frankly ridiculous) though Enjolras had tremendous doubts.

And, similar to how he was now researching sex and what ways would really please Grantaire, and the things that it would entail, he had made lists as to why Grantaire should go out with him. He had tried to think of everything that he might need to convince him, and to his surprise, convincing Grantaire hadn't really been an issue. That had come as a shock to him, but even with the little time they had been together, Enjolras found he was much happier than he had been in a long time. And he had Grantaire to thank for that. He had often criticized Marius for being so obsessed with love and focused on a girl he'd met, and yet, he could understand now how it felt to care about someone and have their affections returned. Enjolras found himself thinking about things like nice dinners and going somewhere just with Grantaire, things he never considered before.

Enjolras smiled slightly. "Fine, I won't apologize. You may regret saying that though. I mean what if I kiss you all slobbery, or you're not in the mood? I mean really, saying never is unnecessary." Not that he intended to slobber all over Grantaire. Enjolras was a little self-conscious about how he kissed, but he knew Grantaire wasn't the type to judge. Enjolras just needed time to adjust and to practice of course. "Then we'll go to lunch. Now you have me curious as to what you want to discuss, but I'll try to be patient." Enjolras looked a little embarrassed, but he did take his notebook and write it down for both of them. "Thanks for putting up with me with this. I just think it'll make me less nervous about it if I learn what you like."

You're The Only Light I See

Grantaire, true to his word, tried to ignore the slight snap Enjolras had at him when he told him he knew that climbing the stairs wasn’t going to be easy. The artist, of course, hadn’t meant it to come across as in any way patronising, he just didn’t want the bond going off and doing things on his own like he had gotten out of the taxi without waiting for him. He knew that the other might find it choking, that Grantaire was hovering around and worrying about everything and he didn’t need to — but he felt like he had to, and in the end he just wanted to be safe. He wanted Enjolras to be safe because even though he wasn’t going through it himself, he could understand that it was hard for him. Incredibly hard to have your world thrown upside down and cast into a darkness you could no longer shed light unto.

It must have been terrifying, and Enjolras was a rather stubborn man to begin with. Understandably, he wouldn’t want to show weakness, and he’d feel like having to take time with normal everyday things would be doing just that. He didn’t realise that trying alone made him strong. Far stronger than Grantaire would have been in his place.

He didn’t even realise that he’d been smiling as he watched Enjolras take the first step until he felt it slide off of his own face at the blond’s sudden change in mood. Enjolras had been pleased with himself for doing it, rightly so, and then out of the blue… not. Grantaire stepped up with him, frowning slightly though it went unseen. “What’s wrong?” asked the artist, his hand going up to cover the blond’s that held onto him. “You’re doing well, Enjolras. Really well. Better than I would have done, I probably would have landed flat on my face and ended up back in the hospital.”

#scxptique #you're the only light I see #blind verse

Enjolras had grown up with this constant need to do better. Every time he accomplished one thing, he pushed himself for the next goal. If there was ever a possibility to improve on something he was doing well on, he would try to do so. Enjolras was constantly aiming to improve what he was doing, and himself in general. Being reduced to such limited skill was very hard for him. He wanted to push himself to do better than he already was, even though what he had accomplished so far was no small feat. He had such high expectations of what he would be able to do, that he couldn't allow himself more than a brief moment of pleasure that he had been able to get onto the first step or two with relative ease.

He took a deep breath and let it out again, forcing himself to calm himself down, to ignore the frustration he felt having done so little. "You're going to think it's stupid..." Enjolras muttered softly, running a hand through his hair, the other hand still gripping Grantaire like he was a life raft. "Usually when I succeed at something, I'm pushing to do even better with the next thing, or to improve on what I've already done. And even though it's great that I've managed to get up one step without seeing what I'm doing...well first of all this is something that used to come very easily to me, and second of all...I just feel that I could do better. Somehow." He knew it sounded ridiculous, but Enjolras had always expected better from himself than anyone else.

He shifted and felt with his foot for the next step, determined to get up these stairs faster than he was doing so far. There was a lot of room to improve, and if he wasn't satisfying his need to do better yet, he might as well try again. Even if a part of him just wanted to sit down and forget his frustration or anything he wanted to do. It was incredibly tempting to just sit down and give up, but this was Enjolras, and he didn't quit easily. Still, something about what Grantaire had said made him frown again. "You know..you don't give yourself enough credit. I think if you had the help I have you wouldn't be able to fall on your face either. I wouldn't let you fall." It was as simple as that. There was enough negativity in Enjolras's head. He didn't need Grantaire to think poorly of himself along with that.

Like A Virgin

Maybe after we could get something to eat or do whatever you want to do really.

Grantaire got the odd sense of thought that Enjolras was trying to reward him for taking a blood test that he wasn’t even really against having done anymore, that or the blond was trying to severely mother him and make sure he got food inside him after having some blood taken. And then have a treat of his own choosing. Which let the artist more than just a tiny bit unsure of how to actually feel about that, to be perfectly honest. It was both highly amusing, because of course it was, and kind of nice at the same time, because whatever his intentions behind that they would probably be incredibly Enjolras, and that would always make it great. If he let himself go and laughed right then, he wouldn’t have been able to tell if it was in pleasant surprise, a sort of agreement already given without the whisper or words, or if he would just be laughing gleefully to laugh at Enjolras. You know, for being, well, Enjolras, really.

Sadly, he didn’t get long to muse it out, nor did he get very long to feel the smug, self-satisfaction run through him at the reaction he had drawn out of the blond by tugging at his hair likely like he had. That had been exactly the reaction he had been hoping for, after all, to prove his point, to prove some sort of point that he was a smart-ass and knew the other’s kinks even before he did himself. Well, the simple ones, really, he could guess the ones that a lot of people liked and put them upon Enjolras’ head as his own, too — the larger ones, well, he couldn’t guess those. He’d probably get them wrong and then feel like a fool for trying. Maybe a little while down the road he’d be able to work one or two out, but not right now, not when they didn’t really have any sort of sexual experience with one another at all. Which was also something Grantaire was going to have to bring up as well. Did Enjolras want to just go straight for the penetrative sex the next time that it all rolled around? (Or when Enjolras was going to make it roll around, of course). Or did he want to work his way up to that? He probably already had an answer for that, he seemed to have an answer for anything and the artist would be shocked if after all his research and planning, he hadn’t even thought about handjobs, and blowjobs, and rutting. A personal favourite. Or well, they were all favourites, he just enjoyed doing the latter two, and receiving the former a tiny bit more.

His lips had parted in a instinctive groan, nothing loud or even all that turned on, a mere breath of it coming out through his mouth — mingled delicately with a gasp. His blue eyes, too, had slid shut for the few moments that it took Grantaire to realise what had really just happened, and by the time that his did they opened once more, a please, satisfied smirk winding its way onto shock parted lips. Grantaire grinned up at the other, giving as much of a nod as he possibly could. ❝Yes,❞ he replied in something akin to a whisper, ❝just like that…. Well done, you’re learning!❞ The artist smiled at him more gently then, after that, a small short breath heaving his chest as he reached up and back to take hold of Enjolras’ hand and take them out of his hair. ❝And you don’t have to take me to eat after having some of my blood taken, you know? It’s not like I’m giving blood and loosing a lot of it, I won’t need a cookie after. Though I’m not saying not, what even is your thought process behind that?❞ he asked curiously, before leaning up to kiss him again. Stopping any real response that he actually wanted.

#scxptique #like a virgin

Enjolras had suggested dinner in a way to make up for his request in a way. He knew that he was asking for a good deal from Grantaire, and the least he could really do is take him to dinner. Plus, he wanted to go out with Grantaire. He had only recently really discovered how he felt about Grantaire and he wanted to do everything he could to make him happy. Enjolras had done enough to make Grantaire feel bad before they got together. He refused to do it again, even though logically he knew that they would probably still have their differences. What he could do at least, is try to make Grantaire as happy as he could. There was a lot he had to learn about being in a relationship, but his hope was that Grantaire would understand that he was trying.

He wanted to know everything that Grantaire liked. Simple things, and more complex things, and sexual things, of course. That was an area that he knew little about, but he wanted to know more. It was why he was doing a lot of research on it. This was something he felt ready for, and he felt that it would be a good experience for the both of them. He wanted to know about Grantaire's kinks, and what he really didn't like, and what he might want Enjolras to do. Really he wanted to know how to properly please Grantaire. Enjolras knew much more about his cause and his goals than anything to do with sex, or relationships in general. Making lists and charts made him feel a little better about it.

A rather smug smile spread across Enjolras's face as his retaliation seemed to have a positive effect on Grantaire. The praise had him grinning like an idiot, far too pleased with those words. But he wanted to learn, he wanted to be able to have an affect on Grantaire like this. It showed him that he was doing something right at least. "So...then I can put hair tugging on the list of things you like?" He asked softly, knowing he'd put it down for himself as well. He hadn't been too surprised, considering he enjoyed it when Combeferre or Courfeyrac would cuddle with him and occasionally pet his hair. It wasn't the same as hair tugging, but he liked that too, so it wasn't unreasonable to make such a connection. Enjolras almost let out a whine as Grantaire took his hands from the man's hair. He rather liked running his hands through Grantaire's hair. He had the desire to do that for a pretty long time. He opened his mouth to explain his reasoning as to the dinner and then found Grantaire's mouth on his, and was immediately distracted. He threw himself into it as he would into his cause, though his inexperience showed, his lips colliding with Grantaire's, but unsure of how to deepen the kiss properly. Instead, he pulled back to breath, and then his lips moved, to Grantaire's cheeks, his nose, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, everywhere he could, and then pulled away looking a little sheepish. "Sorry...I'm not really sure about what I'm doing. But to um...answer your question....I really just want to go somewhere with you. Somewhere that'll be more pleasant than a doctor's office."

The Proposal

Grantaire let out a small sigh of relief when he saw Enjolras walk over to him, he wasn’t usually one to be on time and he would have been annoyed had Enjolras taken his place and had been late instead. Though, his initial relief at seeing him quickly turned into something more akin to annoyance as he listened to the blond speak — for one) of course he was business right off the bat, after being his assistant for so long Grantaire really should have remembered that, and two) of course he had to question whether Grantaire had done what he’d been asked to do or not.

Because when did he ever not do what he was told to by that man? He always did, and that was probably their problem, because the private artist did nothing to stand-up for himself career-wise. Sometimes he took his time, and sometimes he was annoying about agreeing — but in the end he did what had to be done. Because even if he was stuck as someone’s P.A. he was certainly going to be the best at it.

“No, I just thought we’d surprise, ‘em,” replied the blond’s assistant, sarcasm leaking from each and every pore as his lips formed the words and let them free, “you know. Surprise visit. Surprise engagement. Surprise marriage. They’ll love it!”