Work Text:
‘shit shit shit shit shit,’ Enjolras thought, making his way toward the Mason building. His first class of the day, actually his first class of junior year, started in ten minutes. He usually got to class at least half an hour early, and right now he only had ten fucking minutes. Shit shit shit shit shit.
Pushing through crowds of confused freshmen, avoiding cyclists, and narrowly missing a puddle, Enjolras managed to make it to the building with seven minutes to go and a cup of coffee still unspilt. A small success but a success nonetheless.
“Hold that elevator!” he shouted across the lobby, seeing the doors closing. He couldn’t afford to wait on the elevator, even though it was the slowest one on campus, and he really wasn’t in the mood to run up eight flights of stairs. Damn the Government building for being so tall. He rushed forward.
A tattooed arm reached out of the elevator and caught the doors just before they closed. “Sure thing, Apollo,” a voice muttered. Enjolras stepped inside the elevator to see Grantaire smirking at him.
“Grantaire” he nodded, leaning against the back of the elevator, wondering what in the world someone like Grantaire was doing in this building. He hoped he wasn’t in his Nineteenth Century Politics class; their poor teacher probably wouldn’t be able to handle the both of them.
Enjolras did like Grantaire; the man just confused him. He had such talent and was extremely intelligent, but he didn’t care. In fact, had anyone asked, Enjolras would say that Grantaire didn’t care about anything. And yet he still showed up to every single ABC meeting and nearly all their events. To put it simply, Grantaire confused Enjolras.
And though they were supposed to be friends, Enjolras didn’t feel like trying to make conversation. And he most certainly didn’t feel like arguing, which is what his and Grantaire’s conversations often turned into. Sighing, he pulled his red sleeves over his hands and took a sip of his triple expresso, trying to pay no attention to the other three people in the elevator, focusing solely on the sound of it slowly, so slowly, creeping upwards.
The word trying is important here because in just under four seconds he failed miserably, leaning in to hear what the other two people were whispering about so enthusiastically.
“It’s just so unnatural.” Stranger one said, “Man shall not lie with another man. And that goes for pda too.”
“Yeah, like no one wants to see two men kissing.” Stranger two agreed, “I almost want to file a complaint with the administration.”
‘Well clearly they’re freshmen,' Enjolras thought, because no one else in their right mind would say something like that on the same elevator as him. He had a bit of a reputation, to put it lightly. Mentally preparing a speech, Enjolras stood up a little straighter and smoothed out his hair. Their bigoted views were unacceptable, not on his campus and not in his country. He was already in a bad mood, and he was going to give them hell.
But before he could move, the same tattooed arm that held the door open grabbed him, stopping him in his tracks. Looking over, he found Grantaire staring at him. R shook his head once, signaling that Enjolras shouldn’t do anything.
Enjolras shook his head back at Grantaire, gesturing to the couple behind them.
“No” R mouthed, drawing Enjolras’s attention to his mouth, giving him a new plan of action. If the two freshman had been uncomfortable earlier, they were about to be extremely uncomfortable now.
“Better idea” Enjolras mouthed at Grantaire before giving him a smile, all thoughts of trying to run to class gone. Before he could stop himself, he lunged forward, putting his lips on Grantaire’s.
Now it wasn’t that Enjolras was a bad kisser; he just didn’t kiss people often. As it was, he had only ever kissed one girl in high school and one boy freshman year of college. But that was it. He just didn’t see the appeal. He always had better things to do anyway; changing the world couldn’t wait just so he could go around kissing people. That’s not how his life worked. (Though Courfeyrac had managed to find a nice balance.)
However, to say that someone didn’t have the right to kiss someone, now that was another matter. That was something that he would not under any circumstances stand for. In this instant, changing the world required a little kissing. So he kissed Grantaire, a small sacrifice for a great cause.
And now, drawing his mind back to the matter at hand, he found himself making out with Grantaire, feverishly, in an elevator. Oh. Ohhhhh.
Maybe he should do this kissing thing more often. Or maybe he should just do this kissing thing with Grantaire more often. Yes, he would have to do that. He would definitely have to do that.