He was drunk — and it wouldn’t have been the first time.
Finding Courfeyrac like this was almost a routine for them now, it didn’t sprout out from any other setting they found themselves in, because that wasn’t the point. If Grantaire even knew what the point of it all was, anyway, but even left of wagers and guesses, he knew that the point wasn’t deep emotional feelings for one another. Though they did care, of course they cared, they were friends, close friends at that — lovers, some might say at a stretch, but only in the base sense of the word.
They weren’t lovers that stole away any moments together that they could manage. They were lovers completely and only in the carnal sense of the word — and friends again once morning came. It stemmed from rejections and intoxication. Students parties didn’t always end with them in bed together because they weren’t actually terrible at finding other people to spend the single night with, but would still happen occasionally. On a bad night when one or both of them would hit a lull but still needed that kind of touch and release. It was an unspoken agreement, really, to fuck and then carry on. And one that oddly enough, just seemed to work. Or, at lest Grantaire hoped it was working — they didn’t really talk about it but his friend didn’t seem to be holding in any secret feelings, thankfully.
That night had been one with the terrible lulls for both of them, so that night had found them both sitting dejectedly on the sofa whilst the part seemed to go on around them without a care. It found Grantaire on his knees on the sofa, straddling one of Courfeyrac’s thighs and pressing kisses down along the man’s jaw — the latter held his beer on his free knee, Grantaire’s own discarded on the floor behind himself. The kisses weren’t soft and light, but hard and rather insistent, with the occasional added nip of his teeth.
He wasn’t going to ask, but it was obvious what he wanted.
