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Grantaire knows from the moment that Enjolras starts drinking that it's a bad idea. Enjolras is a notorious lightweight and there's no way that chugging back that many shots at one time isn't going to come back to bite him in the ass. He’s never seen Enjolras drunk before, but he's not expecting a lot of things from a drunken Enjolras, to be honest. Knowing Enjolras, the worst he’d do would be to get up on a table and yell “Vive la France!” and scowl at everyone till they all joined in.
Grantaire's not expecting, however, for Enjolras to stumble over to where he is sitting, straddle him in one smooth movement that he should really be too drunk for and say, almost conversationally, “Sometimes when I'm alone in bed, I think of you and I think of myself.” He pauses, considering, then adds, “Naked, y’know, doing things that would make the Catholic Church cry.”
Grantaire chokes on his drink. “What?” he manages to wheeze out amidst his hacking.
Enjolras continues smoothly with, “Sometimes I think about fucking you.”
Grantaire finds that he cannot breathe, but Enjolras doesn’t seem to care. If anything, Grantaire’s inevitable demise due to his lack of oxygen seems to be egging him on. Of course it does.
“Sometimes it's the other way round,” Enjolras tells him, voice smooth. His hands have begun to wander, trailing down Grantaire’s chest, inching lower.
Grantaire lets out a squeak and grabs Enjolras’ hands in his. And yes. Yes, he definitely cannot breathe right now. Some help with oxygen supply would be great.
He shoots a pleading look at a smirking Bahorel at the other side of the bar, willing him to come and help, but Bahorel just grins at him and makes no move to extricate himself from his conversation with Feuilly. God damn it, what a traitor.
Enjolras, as if noticing that Grantaire's attentions are not entirely on him, scowls and grinds his hips down against Grantaire’s. He can feel the bulge in Enjolras’ jeans and has to smother the urge to do something stupid, like drop onto his knees and beg to suck Enjolras' cock.
"Enjolras," Grantaire gets out helplessly. "What are you— You can't."
Enjolras smiles, looking pleased that he has Grantaire’s attention back on him. "Where was I? Oh, yes. I was telling you about how I think about you fucking me. I think about you fucking me all the time. I got off on thinking about you fucking me the other day. I got three fingers in myself, and it felt good. I can only imagine that the real thing will be better.”
Grantaire is trying very hard to keep still and keep his breathing even, and well, generally doing things that will help him not to give into the temptation of rutting up against Enjolras.
"Sometimes we don't fuck in my fantasies," Enjolras continues. "Sometimes you wrap your hand around our erections and jerk us off together. I like your hands. I really like your hands and I really, really want to feel your hands around my cock. Would you like that, R, I wonder?"
Enjolras seems to be waiting for an answer.
Grantaire cannot say anything except, "Oh my God, Enjolras."
"I'm going to take that as a yes," Enjolras says. "Even better, I'm going to take that as a promise."
Grantaire is going to die. This is his punishment for being a horrible human being who drinks too much and does little good. God is going to tempt him with sexual frustration, and Grantaire is going to die.
"Enjolras, you need to stop," Grantaire says, and Enjolras actually pouts at that.
"Do you not want me?"
"God," Grantaire groans. "No, I do not not want you."
Enjolras cocks his head to one side and considers that. "So you want me?" he asks. He seems suddenly unsure of himself and Grantaire doesn't ever want to see that look on his face.
"Yes," he says emphatically. "Yes, I want you. I want you very much."
"Then take me," Enjolras says. And then, apropos to nothing, says, "I really want to suck you off. I want to see if I can make you scream with just my mouth on you. Would you let me try? Would you let me suck you off?"
Grantaire laughs, a bit hysterical. "You are so drunk, Enjolras. You’re not going to remember any of this tomorrow. Or worse, you're going to remember everything and you're going to hate me for letting you do this."
Enjolras scowls. "I'm going to hate you if you don't fuck me right the fuck now."
"Not like this," Grantaire says, because he can beat this temptation, he can. "COMBEFERRE, ENJOLRAS NEEDS YOU NOW!" he yells, and Combeferre turns over, takes one look at Enjolras on Grantaire’s lap, and comes over.
“You need to take him home,” Grantaire says.
“Don’t take me home,” Enjolras look over his shoulder to tell Combeferre, petulant. He shifts a little to make himself more comfortable in Grantaire’s lap, and Grantaire wants to cry. “I am comfortable here. I do not consent to being taken home. Consent is important, Combeferre, and I do not consent.”
Combeferre laughs.
“Combeferre, please take him home,” Grantaire begs. “Please.”
“C’mon, Enjolras,” Combeferre relents, “we need to get you home.”
Enjolras pouts, “Can Grantaire take me home?”
“No, Grantaire cannot take you home,” Grantaire says before Combeferre has a chance to reply. “Grantaire is going to get himself stupidly drunk, and you’re going to go home and sleep this off.”
It takes a bit more cajoling, but eventually, after wrangling a promise from Grantaire that he’ll join Enjolras after he’s done at the bar (he isn’t), Combeferre drags a very reluctant Enjolras out of the bar.
Grantaire needs a drink. Or ten.
--
It takes two days for Enjolras to come knocking on his door.
"You are the most infuriating person," Enjolras says without preamble, scowling, and pushes past Grantaire to make way into his apartment.
"Hi, Enjolras, how are you? I'm doing great, thank you for asking. Would you like to come in?" Grantaire mumbles under his breath as he closes the door.
Enjolras' scowl deepens, signifying that he's heard Grantaire. He doesn't say anything about it, though, just glares at Grantaire and mutters, "You never react the way you're supposed to."
"I'm sorry?" Grantaire says, mostly because he's trying to avoid an argument, and also because it's still too early for him to handle Enjolras' frowny-face.
"No, you're not." Enjolras takes a deep breath, the kind one takes to ground themselves. "And you shouldn't have to be. It's perfectly fine for you not to want me," he says brusquely. "I'd just like to know why."
"What?" Grantaire says. "I don't think you know what you're talking about."
"Of course I do," Enjolras snaps. "I came onto you and you sent me home. That's about as clear as a rejection gets."
Grantaire gapes at him. "I sent you home because you were drunk! I wasn't about to take advantage of you while you were so out of it. You said it yourself, consent is important."
"But I did consent," Enjolras says, still scowling. "Or was rubbing myself all over you in your lap not a clear enough indicator?"
"You were drunk," Grantaire repeats, and wonders how he's actually being the more mature one in this conversation. "Your drunken consent doesn't count."
"Okay," Enjolras agrees. "I'm not drunk now. Fuck me now."
It takes a few seconds for Grantaire to reply, "No."
"No?"
Grantaire sighs. "I don't even know what point you're trying to make anymore, but you don't have to have sex with me to prove a point."
"I'm not trying to prove a point," Enjolras grits out, visibly frustrated. "I just want you to fuck me. Is that so hard to understand?"
Grantaire nods. "Yes, a bit, actually."
Enjolras lets out a noise of frustration. "Okay, let's try this again," he says. "Grantaire, I wanted you to fuck me at the bar the other night. I still want you to fuck me now."
"Okay," Grantaire says. "Get your pants off and get in my bed."
Enjolras throws his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You're not taking this seriously!"
"You're not giving me anything to be serious about!" Grantaire yells back. He’s not going to get serious about this. He’s not because it’d be the most self-destructive thing to do, feeding to thing for Enjolras he has.
"Do you not want to have sex with me?" Enjolras asks very seriously. "Is this what this is? Do you not want me?"
No, that’s not it at all, and Grantaire is pretty sure he’s said it enough times for even the most oblivious of idiots to understand. Why is Enjolras deliberately being so frustrating?
Grantaire reaches out to grab Enjolras' shirt, pulls him in, and kisses him. His lips are forceful and unyielding where Enjolras’ are uncharacteristically pliant, taking what Grantaire gives without complaint, without asking for more. He kisses Enjolras, keeps kissing Enjolras, until the lack of air in his lungs makes it hard for him to keep his lips pressed to Enjolras’
"You're not listening to me," he says softly when they part. "I want you. I've always wanted you. I wanted you even before you wanted me.” He takes a deep breath, steels himself, and then says, “I can’t have sex with you because it won’t be just sex for me.”
He sees the moment it clicks in Enjolras' brain.
"Oh," Enjolras says.
"Oh," Grantaire parrots, smiling sadly.
"You like me," Enjolras breathes out.
Like is a bit too mild to describe how Grantaire feels about him, but Grantaire nods all the same because the alternative would be to hit Enjolras on the head repeatedly, yelling “I love you, you stupid bastard” until he gets it.
At Grantaire's nod, he removes his hand from where it's tangled in Grantaire's curls, and takes two steps back. His face is hard and determined, and Grantaire spares a few seconds to mentally berate himself for being stupid, because of course he's gone and fucked things up with his feelings, of course he couldn't have just taken what Enjolras was willing to give.
"Okay," Enjolras says, mostly to himself. "Okay, let's start over, pretend this whole thing never happened."
"You can't just-"
Enjolras shushes him. "Shut up, Grantaire, I'm trying to ask you out."
Grantaire blinks at him. "What."
"I'm going to take you out on a date and we're going to do this right," Enjolras says, voice hard with determination. "Nod for yes, shake your head for no. Consent is important."
It takes awhile for Grantaire to realize that Enjolras' tone is teasing, that he's making fun of himself, and then promptly lets out a gurgle of incomprehensible sounds that are meant to be words that his mouth just refuses to form.
"I like you too," Enjolras says in reply to the question Grantaire doesn't have enough words in his vocabulary to voice out right now. "I hadn't realized you felt the same way."
Grantaire just stares at him in slight shock.
"Dinner at seven, I'll pick you up?"
Grantaire manages to nod dumbly at him, and Enjolras smiles slightly before darting in to press a quick kiss to his lips.
"I'll see you tonight," Enjolras says, and then lets himself out.
It takes Grantaire fifteen minutes to get his brain working again.
To: E
you broke my brain
From: E
:D
To: E
it's not funny
To: E
my brain is still mush
To: E
i hate you you are the worst
To: E
don't expect me to put out till at least the third date
From: E
It's your loss. I was going to give you a handjob under the table.
To: E
jfc
To: E
can you not
To: E
you are a horrible tease i should have known
To: E
why is that so hot that isn't supposed to be hot
To: E
aksjdsjdjsjaka
From: E
:DDDDD