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Buying the jacket is an act of desperation. A very expensive act of desperation, which Grantaire knows, logically, isn't even going to work. A new jacket, no matter how cool, won't change a thing about who Grantaire is.
And Enjolras has never shown any interest in that.
From what he can tell, Enjolras really hasn't shown much interest in anything outside of his friendships, his education, and his activism; so he doesn't feel too hurt by it. It's not like he's dedicated his whole life to admiring the man's face or anything.
Just like, eighty percent of his art. Nothing major.
But the point here is that Grantaire is spending an outrageous sum of money on a jacket he does not need or even particularly want, because yesterday Enjolras finally did show interest in something. Someone.
Someone wearing a slightly too-large leather jacket.
It's ridiculous; he has no way of even knowing if it was really the jacket that caught Enjolras' attention. But that same person had been in the Musain at the same time as them nearly every week for the last few months, and Enjolras had never paid any attention before- the jacket is the only detail that changed.
(Eponine asks how he could possibly know even the slightest bit about what goes on around him in the Musain, with how much time he spends staring exclusively at Enjolras' face.
He doesn't bother replying, just smacks her with a throw pillow.)
At least the jacket looks good on him, despite not being his usual style.
---
The strangest thing is that it actually seems to work.
Grantaire had tossed the thing into his room upon arriving home, and then forgotten it for a week- perhaps because that's how long he went without entering his room again, passing out on his couch or Courfeyrac's or Eponine's for six nights straight, but that's neither here nor there. He stumbles to his own bed after a shower, faceplants right onto the jacket, and when he wakes up it's right there to remind him of his Foolproof Plan to Distract and/or Seduce Enjolras(TM).
(Eponine manages to keep a very serious face while naming The Plan. It's quite impressive.
Grantaire throws another pillow at her.)
He wears the jacket. Enjolras stares.
Okay, so he doesn't outright stare, not like Grantaire does, but Enjolras' eyes definitely linger on him, more often and for longer periods than usual.
Holy shit.
---
He wears the jacket almost every day, despite the fact that he and Enjolras don't even see each other all that often. The weather is turning colder, anyway, and you never know who you might run into while walking about town.
("Shut up, Ep'.")
And he does run into Enjolras several times, oddly enough. At the local clinic,
("What are you doing here?"
"Well, Grantaire, I've broken my wrist.");
near the art wing buildings of Enjolras' university campus,
("Are you stealing supplies, Grantaire?"
"Bartering, Apollo.");
in an overly crowded cafe at lunchtime,
("Sit with me, no point taking up an extra table."
"Thank you, R.");
and each time Enjolras' eyes linger on Grantaire and his leather jacket, never mind that it's already marked with paint splatters, much like the majority of his belongings.
The whole situation serves to boost his confidence- or maybe make him delusional- and after an afternoon meeting at the Musain, he asks Enjolras to accompany him for a cup of coffee.
---
"...We're in a cafe."
Courfeyrac, because he is a true friend, interrupts Grantaire's- frankly excellent- impression of a fish, saves him from further embarrassment.
"The stuff here is good, sure, but R makes a better brew that anyone I've ever met."
Scratch that, he is going to kill Courf, they are no longer friends, never again from this day forward. Why would he think it was a good idea to invite Enjolras to Grantaire's flat? Why would he think Enjolras would even be open to the idea of going to Grantaire's flat?
He misses Enjolras turning to say goodbye to Combeferre, too busy pulling his former friend aside and threatening his life. It's not until Courfeyrac clears his throat pointedly, looking rather pleased with himself, that he realized Enjolras hasn't left.
"Coffee would be great," he says, red coat draped over his broken, casted wrist and obviously ready to go.
Oh. Oh. Oh this is so much worse. Enjolras in his flat. There's no way this can end well. he needs other people around, he can't be alone with Enjolras in his flat. He'll make such a fool of himself, and then what? His life will be over, that's what. He will never show his face again anywhere, ever. There will be no leaving his place in the foreseeable future. Maybe he could pay someone to bring him alcohol. Maybe he should just move now, today, before this-
"I think you're being a little overdramatic, R," Enjolras laughs, kill him now please.
"Courf," he says slowly, tightening the hand clutching Courfeyrac's shoulder and attempting to ignore Enjolras completely, "be a good friend and tell me I said none of that out loud."
Courfeyrac is his friend again, absolutely, they are comrades once more, because he says "None of it," and it isn't a lie.
"But your panicking face is very obvious."
Enjolras, however, with his smirk and imperiously arched eyebrows- and his beautiful, beautiful face- he can no longer be friends with, object of his affections or no.
Courfeyrac takes the opportunity to escape, leaving the two of them alone. Which was the original goal. Sort of.
Well, nothing to be done about it now.
"Right, coffee. At my place. This- uh- this way.
Thank the heavens it's a short walk, made even shorter by the pace Grantaire sets. Enjolras keeps up easily, radiating amusement.
---
"Courf was right," is the first thing he says once they've reached Grantaire's flat and the coffee has been distributed.
Courf was right, and then "I'd like to kiss you."
It doesn't compute, not even a little. He stares so long that Enjolras goes back to his drink.
"Well, it's an open invitation, if you're interested," he says, apparently unconcerned by the lack of response. "Any time, really."
Grantaire is still frozen; he stays that way long enough for Enjolras to finish his coffee, rinse the mug, and leave with a small smile meant just from him.
---
("YOU WHAT?!"
"I froze, Ep. Don't act like you're so surprised. He said he wanted to kiss me!"
:And so the appropriate response would've been to kiss him, you moron!"
He smacks her with another pillow.
"How many of those fucking things have you got?!")
---
Enjolras had made himself clear, certainly, and Grantaire definitely wants to kiss him, but the problem is-
The problem is- well. Honestly he has no idea what the problem is. And so he decides, two days later when he runs into Enjolras at the cafe where they had recently shared lunch, that if he has no idea what the problem is, then there is no problem.
Enjolras, who has gotten his drink and is waiting on his food, not paying attention to much of anything around him, doesn't see Grantaire coming until the last moment.
---
Their first kiss is... not the best.
Their second kiss- wherein Enjolras set down his half-spilled tea, reels Grantaire in with one hand tangled in his hair and the other resting on his neck, and rocks his world holy shit- is a lot better.
Enjolras insists they clean up the mess from his disrupted meal, amidst disapproving grumbles and whistled catcalls, before they head back to Grantaire's place.
---
They make out for awhile before Grantaire actually remembers what the problem is.
"Is this about the jacket?"
Enjolras pulls back with a small frown, "What?"
"You only started staring at me since I bought the damn thing, so. Is this about the jacket?"
"Oh! No, I, uh..." he trails off, embarrassed.
""This"," he makes air quotes around the word, fucking hell who knew Enjolras used air quotes, "is not a recent development. I was going to ask you out myself earlier this year, since you were taking so long to get to it, but then I...didn't."
He looks so awkward about it that Grantaire can't bring himself to press that particular issue any further. For now, anyway.
And besides, "That doesn't explain the jacket thing."
"It's not a thing," he insists, settling back into the cushions with a blush, "I just...really want one. A leather jacket, I mean."
"So you've...been staring because you want a leather jacket?"
"Essentially, yes. Though I've been staring at you for a long time, even before you bought one. Hard to believe you hadn't noticed, since you stare at me just as much."
"Wha- you've been- I do not-"
Enjolras grabs his flailing hands, laughingly pecks a kiss to his lips and rests their foreheads together.
"So here's the thing," he breathes between them, "I would like to date you. I would love to date you, actually. I enjoy and want to continue making out with you."
"But?"
Enjolras sighs softly, closes his eyes so he can't see Grantaire's face when he says "I don't do sex. i mean- it's not a thing, for me. I don't really ever want to have sex again. And if we do this- continue doing this- then you need to know that's not on the table for me."
Grantaire waits, breathes a sigh of relief and allows his stomach to crawl back up from the pit it'd fell into, until Enjolras finally opens his eyes to look at him.
"So you're ace?"
"Right," he says, relieved but honestly not surprised.
"That's fine. You're fine. In a couple of different ways."
Enjolras huffs a laugh against his lips and pushes himself up and off of Grantaire.
"What? Don't go now, we still need to talk about your leather jacket fixation!"
"Take a couple days, R," he says with a smile, "think everything through. I know you really like me, but don't... Don't make a decision so quickly just because of that."
He presses another kiss to Grantaire's lips, "Call me this weekend, either way," and leaves.
---
(What is with him dropping bombs like that and just fucking off?"
Grantaire shrugs, unconcerned.
"So you're not hitting that?"
"No one's hitting that, Ep, it's kind of the point."
"Shame."
"It really isn't."
"Get that goofy smile off your face, ya fuckin' sap.")
---
It's just after midnight on Friday- technically Saturday now, so the weekend- when he goes to call Enjolras and realizes he doesn't have his fucking number.
So he calls Courfeyrac, because they're friends again- for now.
"Why do you need his number?"
"Don't do this with me, you know why, it's your fault I was alone with him in my flat."
"I fail to see how that could be a bad thing if it worked out to where you're calling him at midnight on a Friday."
"Oh my god, Courf, just give me the number."
He does, and so they remain friends for awhile longer.
---
He get's Enjolras' voicemail, and falters.
"So I- I mean, well, I thought about everything like you said even though there was never any question because I'm in lo- well, intense like with you and it doesn't matter if we don't ever have sex because you as a person mean more to me than any sexual urges I've ever or could ever have and I can still mastu- I mean I still have hands and wow I really should've-
-BEEP-
He calls again.
"I guess I should've had a message planned out, but what I'm trying to say is that I care that you're ace, of course I do, but that has literally zero effect on my feelings for you and so yes, I would really, really like to date you and-"
"Great, meet me at the Musain tomorrow night around six," Enjolras interrupts.
"Oh. Oh. I thought I got your... voicemail... again," oh, this is embarrassing.
Enjolras chuckles over the line
"Go to sleep, R, I'll see you tomorrow," he says, and hangs up.
Grantaire gapes at his phone, contemplates calling again because rude. Contemplates not going tomorrow, for all of half a second.
He goes to sleep.
---
Honestly, he doesn't even remember where they go on their first date- not sure if they even go anywhere really, just that they walk around for awhile- because he spends the whole time staring at Enjolras, reveling in the fact that this is actually happening.
Enjolras doesn't seem to mind.
---
His leather jacket disappears one day, a few weeks down the road.
It looks better on Enjolras, anyway.
---
("Did you ever tell him why you bought that thing in the first place?"
"Shut up, Eponine!"
"I'm gonna tell him lat- JESUS CHRIST R WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY COUCH PILLOWS?!")