Man I always get whiplash from your blog layout, it's great. Anyway, 44 (Tentative kisses given in the dark.) for exr *eyes emoji*
Sorry not sorry about the blog layout XD
Anyway, this was supposed to be something else, something sweeter, but then this happened, and, well...
ExR, modern AU, developing relationship.
Enjolras dumped his bag on a table in the backroom of the Musain and started unbuttoning his coat, though he paused when he saw Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet at a table in the corner, their heads together as they discussed something with what looked like urgency.
His curiosity piqued, Enjolras wandered over to them. “Not to use ableist language, but if you believe that, you’re cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs,” Bossuet said dismissively, as Joly nodded in agreement.
Grantaire snorted. “Not entirely sure that’s ableist, though General Mills may sue for copyright violations. Besides, I’m not the one who’s apparently lost what’s left of my marbles.”
“Look, copyright violations aside, I think Bossuet’s got a point—” Joly started, but Grantaire cut him off.
“Oh, sure, take his side like always,” Grantaire sniped.
Enjolras cleared his throat and all three startled before looking over at him. “Dare I ask what you three are arguing about?” he asked mildly, and to his surprise, Joly blushed.
“I wouldn’t call it an argument,” he hedged, glancing sideways at Bossuet, who nodded emphatically.
“Right, it’s really more of a disagreement.”
Enjolras raised an eyebrow. “Fine, what are you disagreeing about?”
Grantaire smiled blithely at him, the only one of three who didn’t look remotely abashed. “Whether Die Hard is a Christmas movie or not.”
Enjolras blinked. He had not been expecting that. “Uh...what?”
“You know, the holiday classic starring Bruce Willis,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “Which I maintain, if you’re going to allow films like It’s a Wonderful Life and Holiday Inn, which, let’s not forget, features actual blackface, to be counted as Christmas films, you also have to allow Die Hard, which is arguably even more Christmas-y since it actually takes place fully at Christmas.”
Grantaire said this all with absolute confidence, which bewildered Enjolras almost as much as Joly, who leaned forward to tell Grantaire, equally heated, “Christmas-y is not a word, and also, the point isn’t whether they take place solely at Christmas time, but whether they’re filled with, y’know, Christmas spirit. Which Die Hard is not.”
Bossuet cleared his throat. “What do you think, Enjolras?” he asked loudly as Grantaire stuck his tongue out at Joly.
Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Believe it or not, this is one area where I don’t really have an opinion.”
Grantaire raised both eyebrows as he did what he clearly thought was a comical doubletake. “I could die of shock.”
“Well, try not to, at least not until we have your mockup for the mutual aid fundraiser flyers,” Enjolras said sourly.
“And here I thought you didn’t value my contributions,” Grantaire said with a grin. “But seriously, you don’t have an opinion on Die Hard?”
“Oh, I have opinions,” Enjolras assured him. “I just don’t think they’re relevant to this particular debate.”
Grantaire fluttered his eyelashes at him. “As if that’s ever stopped you before,” he said sweetly.
Enjolras scowled. “You really want my opinion on if I think a movie featuring an extrajudicial cop qualifies as having the spirit belonging to a holiday devoted to capitalism and religious imperialism?” he asked sharply, and Joly and Bossuet had the good sense to look a little embarrassed. “Because in that case, I do have some fascinating insights on the ties between the military industrial complex and evangelical Christianity.”
Joly and Bossuet grumbled and turned away, clearly ready to continue the conversation without Enjolras, but Grantaire propped his chin on his hand and smirked at Enjolras. “Fascinating though your use of big words may be, you didn’t actually answer the question.”
“The question of whether I think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”
“Yeah.”
Enjolras looked at him flatly. “Is ‘I don’t give a flying fuck’ an answer?”
Grantaire’s smile widened. “Not so much, no.”
“Oh, so when you give me that as an answer during Les Amis meetings, I’m just supposed to accept it, but when it comes to inane debates about Christmas movies, it’s not good enough?” Enjolras asked sourly.
Grantaire nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”
For a moment, Enjolras considered telling Grantaire that he should focus on more important things, but he could only imagine all the ways that would backfire on him. “Fine. Then Die Hard is not a Christmas movie. Happy?”
Grantaire cocked his head slightly. “I’d be happier if you could explain why you think that.”
Enjolras stared at him. “Because it just...it isn’t.”
Grantaire’s smirk was back, and his tone turned teasing. “C’mon, cite your sources, this isn’t your first debate, you know better than that.”
“I don’t have to cite anything!” Enjolras snapped. “It’s not a Christmas movie. End of discussion.”
“Then why did Bahorel wear a sweatshirt with ‘Now I have a machine gun, Ho-ho-ho’ written on it in red paint to an Ugly Christmas Sweater party last week?” Grantaire countered.
Enjolras blinked. “Wait, that was from Die Hard?”
“Of course it was from—” Grantaire broke off, something like glee lighting up his face. “Wait a minute, have you actually seen Die Hard?”
“I’ve seen parts of it…” Enjolras hedged.
“That does not count.” Grantaire stood up. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“My place,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “We’re watching Die Hard.”
Enjolras stared at him. “What? Why?”
“Because you claim to hate it but you’ve never even seen it,” Grantaire said, as if it was obvious.
“And what part of my description of it would make you think that I would enjoy it even if I did watch it?”
Grantaire snorted. “No one said anything about enjoying it. I just think you should actually have an informed opinion about something if you’re going to wade into such hard-hitting debates as ‘Is Die Hard a Christmas movie’.”
Grantaire’s tone was innocent, but Enjolras ground his teeth together, recognizing that he had said the same exact thing to Grantaire during a Les Amis meeting the previous week in regards to a debate on restorative justice and an article that Grantaire hadn’t actually read. “I don’t exactly have a spare two hours to waste on this right now,” Enjolras snapped.
“Sure you do,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “What else do you have to work on?”
Enjolras immediately blanked on any of the things he could possibly have to work on. “That’s– that’s not the point,” he spluttered, but it was too late. Grantaire had already taken his arm and was steering him towards the door.
“We’ll be back in a little over two hours and twelve minutes,” Grantaire called over his shoulder, and Enjolras sighed resignedly.
“I am so going to regret this.”
----------
Die Hard, as it turned out, was everything Enjolras had suspected, and then some, and about a half hour into it, he shifted on Grantaire’s couch and tossed a look over at Grantaire, who had thus far been more silent than he’d ever been at any Les Amis meeting. He could barely see Grantaire’s face in the dark room (Grantaire had insisted they leave the lights off for a ‘true cinematic’ experience), and was sorely tempted to elbow him or many any number of snide comments when he noticed Grantaire’s lips moving, just slightly, in time with Alan Rickman’s character speaking on screen.
“Are you...mouthing the lines of the movie?” Enjolras whispered, and Grantaire waved a dismissive hand.
“Shh,” he said. “And yeah, so?”
“So of all the movies in all the world, Die Hard is the one you have memorized?”
Grantaire gave him a look. “What part of shh don’t you understand?” he asked.
“I could ask you the same question during every Les Amis meeting,” Enjolras said, a little sourly. “Besides, since you clearly have the movie memorized, it’s not like you’re going to miss anything.”
Grantaire sighed but relented, half-turning to face Enjolras. “Fine, if you must know, Die Hard happens to be my favorite Christmas movie and, honestly, one of my favorite non-Christmas movies as well.”
Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Ok, but...why?”
Grantaire made a face. “You’re going to think it’s dumb.”
“Dumber than the movie itself?” Enjolras asked, only half-joking.
Grantaire gave him a look. “Because responses like that are so likely to make me want to confide in you.” Enjolras held his hands up defensively and Grantaire sighed again. “Honestly, it’s my favorite movie because of John McClane, because...well, because he reminds me of you.”
“He – what?”
Enjolras wished he had come up with something more eloquent to say, but luckily, Grantaire didn’t seem to notice, as he was busy avoiding meeting his eyes. “Well, y’know,” he said, shrugging uncomfortably. “Saving the world, or at least Nakatomi plaza, by any means necessary because you realize that sometimes the system is broken and to do the most good, sometimes you’ve got to do it yourself.”
Enjolras opened his mouth to respond and immediately closed it again, mostly to swallow his immediate reaction which was to vehemently deny any similarity between himself and a cop, because despite himself, he knew that wasn’t what Grantaire meant.
Or at least, it better not have been.
“Well,” he said, after the silence between them had stretched to almost uncomfortable, “the comparison to a police officer aside, thank you for, y’know...saying that.” Grantaire nodded stiffly and Enjolras cleared his throat to try to make the moment less awkward. “So, uh, if I’m John McClane, who does that make you.”
Grantaire snorted. “Oh, Argyle, definitely.”
Enjolras gave him a look. “Be serious.”
Grantaire smiled, but it was a pale imitation of his usual smirk. “I am wild.”
Enjolras nudged him with his elbow. “So who?”
Shrugging slightly, Grantaire leaned back against the couch arm rest. “I dunno, probably one of the hostages that dies or something.” Enjolras just looked expectantly at him and Grantaire sighed. “Fine, I always thought if I was like anyone, I’d be most like Holly.”
Enjolras blinked. “John McClane’s wife?”
Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, she’s badass and not afraid to give heroes and villains alike a piece of her mind.”
“You do have that in common, I suppose,” Enjolras said with a light laugh.
“Yeah, but more importantly than a mouth that won’t quit, she doesn’t have to be the hero,” Grantaire continued. “She’s there to help and do what she can, but at the end of the day, it’s John McClane who saves the day, and she’s just along for the ride. And when it comes to Les Amis, and saving the world, well…” He trailed off. “I may be a lot of things, but I think we can both agree I’m not a hero.”
“I don’t know about that,” Enjolras said automatically, and it was hard to say whether he or Grantaire was more surprised. Grantaire stared at him, wide-eyed, and Enjolras flushed before adding, “I mean, uh…”
He trailed off, not able to actually find the excuse he was looking for, and after a long moment, Grantaire forced a laugh before looking pointedly back at the TV. “Well, in any case, spoiler alert Holly also gets the hero in the end, and that we can definitely agree is not in the cards for me.”
“It could be.”
Enjolras would never know what made him say it, but as soon as he did, he knew he meant it. They’d been dancing around this, and each other, for years, and if he didn’t say something now, he wasn’t sure there was any other time that it could happen.
Even if it was happening with John McClane killing vaguely European henchmen in the background.
“Enj—” Grantaire breathed, but Enjolras had already closed the space between them, cupping Grantaire’s cheek with one hand before kissing him lightly.
It was a quick kiss, light and fleeting and a little hesitant, because awkward kisses in the dark while Die Hard played was like something out of high school and Enjolras hadn’t been any more sauve in high school than he was now, but then Grantaire’s lips parted with a sigh and he kissed Enjolras back in earnest.
They broke apart sometime later, Die Hard long forgotten in the background, and Grantaire’s grin was so bright that Enjolras almost forgot the lights were off. “If this is your idea of Christmas, I gotta be here for New Year’s,” Grantaire murmured, and Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him.
“What?” he asked, amused.
Grantaire’s grin didn’t so much as flicker. “It’s a line from the movie,” he said. “We can always watch the rest of it, if you’d like.”
“If only there wasn’t something better to do,” Enjolras said dryly before leaning in and kissing him again.
When the movie finally ended, Grantaire pulled away from Enjolras and fumbled for the remote to turn the TV off. He looked back at Enjolras, a slow smile spreading across his face. “So, uh, what’s the verdict - is Die Hard a Christmas movie?”
Enjolras pretended to consider it. “You know, honestly, I didn’t actually see a whole lot of the movie.”
“Shame,” Grantaire said, grinning.
Enjolras nodded. “Yeah. Guess that just means we’ll have to try it again sometime.”
“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged.”
Grantaire leaned in to kiss him again but Enjolras stopped him, resting his hand lightly against Grantaire’s chest. “You do realize we’re not going to watch Die Hard every time we want to do this, right?”
“Of course not. There’s also Die Hard 2, Die Hard with a Vengeance, Live Free or Die Hard—” Enjolras groaned and Grantaire laughed, leaning in and kissing him lightly. “Well, we’ll figure something out.”
“Yeah,” Enjolras said, kissing him again. “I’m sure we will.”
