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home isn't just a house

Summary:

A series of scenes over the years, showing Enjolras' home in his house and the people he loves.


A house is made of brick and mortar, but home is made by the people who live there. - M.K. Soni

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Enjolras asked, looking dubiously up the driveway to the little brick house.

“Absolutely positive,” Combeferre said, coming to stand beside him.

A slamming of the car door proceeded the arrival of Courfeyrac as he bounced into place beside his friends, completing the trio.

“...well I think it looks great,” he said after a moment wherein neither of the other two had offered any more comments. “Good structure, not a shitty construction job full of pre-fab materials-”

“-possibly asbestos depending on when it was updated-” Combeferre inserted.

“-Plenty of room, a quiet neighborhood,” Courfeyrac continued, shooting Ferre a flat look. “All in all, a perfect combination for our first off-campus housing! Right, Enj?”

Enjolras started slightly, pulled out of the idle reverie he’d fallen into as Courfeyrac had rattled on.

“Oh yeah, perfect. It is close to the bus station.”

Courfeyrac beamed.

“There, you see? We won’t even have to rely on Jolene starting in the winter! Isn’t that right Jolene?” Courfeyrac addressed the old car affectionately, patting the hood. Enjolras smiled and fell in easily as his friends started wrestling with Jolene’s sticky latch to get their suitcases out of the trunk.


The music thrummed comfortably from the small bluetooth speaker Courfeyrac had set up on the bookshelf, and Enjolras smiled watching his friends from his refuge in the kitchen. Bahorel and Jehan were arm wrestling as Grantaire and Cosette cheered them on, Joly was debating with Combeferre about the merits of some new psychic who had set up in town from the comfort of Musichetta and Bossuet’s laps, with Musichetta occasionally chiming in with rumors she’d picked up, Feuilly and Marius were talking about a movie they’d seen recently, and Éponine and Courfeyrac were sitting and chatting idly at the table next to him. 

Across the room Jehan shouted with triumph as Bahorel’s arm hit the table, Grantaire and Cosette applauding. Enjolras looked back over to them and caught his breath slightly as Grantaire shed his flannel for a match against Cosette. His muscles flexed under his black t-shirt as he got into position, smiling at a joke Cosette made while she did the same, and Enjolras swallowed hard. Grantaire looked up and caught Enjolras staring and Enjolras felt himself flush. Even as he felt his face get hotter, Enjolras couldn’t look away, caught by Grantaire’s piercing eyes. Grantaire smiled and raised an eyebrow, but was immediately thrown off kilter as Bahorel finished his countdown and Cosette pushed his arm almost completely to the table. Spluttering with surprise, he broke eye contact to call a foul as Cosette smiled and held him pinned just before he touched down. Released from the eye contact Enjolras looked down at his drink, putting his hands on his cheeks in the hope of cooling them down.


Enjolras’ shoulders sagged as he made his way up to the front door, fumbling to get his keys out of his pocket. They slipped from his fingers and fell on the welcome mat and he swore softly, pausing there for a moment to try and stir up the energy to bend down and pick them up again. Sighing as he bent down, holding his bag in place so it wouldn’t swing down in the way, he grabbed them and jammed them into the keyhole to let himself in. He was met by the soft sound of Howard Shore’s music underneath the sound of Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s bickering. Enjolras shed his coat and bag and kicked off his shoes, before going to find the source of the sound.

As he entered the living room, Courf was sprawled upside down on the couch gesturing wildly.

“-and what I’m saying is that out of the two hobbits that got kidnapped by the orcs, Merry is obviously the better character!”

Ferre was sitting on the chair of couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, in full debate mode.

“You’re overlooking the fact that Pippin was the equivalent of a 17 year old during the war of the ring while Merry was well into adulthood! The movies do a terrible job of portraying it, but you can’t expect the same level of emotional maturity and self control from people of those two different stages in life. And anyway, Boromir is clearly the superior choice for best character. He stands in as the representative for man! He has his flaws, and his choice is what separates the Fellowship since it drives Frodo and therefore Sam away, but he tries hard despite that! He dies trying to save his friends, and Legolas and Aragorn sing a song lamenting his death, which proves that he was a vital and important part of the group.”

Enjolras smiled as he walked in, plopping down directly on the couch between his friends.

“Both of you are wrong, the best character in the series is Sam.”

“Enj!” Courf cried gleefully, before letting out an “Ow,” of pain as he slid fully off the couch and onto his head.

“Welcome home,” Combeferre said, laughing slightly as he reached down to help pull Courfeyrac back rightside up. 

“The best character is far and away our dear Sam, we were just trying to figure out who came in second place while we waited for you to get home. How were finals?” Courf asked as he sat back down on the couch, draping one arm over Enjolras’ shoulders. On the other side, Ferre slid off the arm of the couch to fully sit next to Enjolras, unwrapping part of his blanket to lay across the other two.

“Exhausting, but I’m better now that I’m home. Did you make popcorn?”

“Shit!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, sitting bolt upright. “I knew I forgot something!” He launched himself over the back of the couch, barely avoiding a faceplant, and hurried to the kitchen. Combeferre sighed as Enjolras laughed, feeling the weight of the day leach away as he was enveloped in the love and warmth of home and family.


Enjolras slipped away from the party and onto the back patio, slightly grateful for the relief from the bouncing music that Courfeyrac had put on his “Ultimate Birthday Bops” playlist. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the person he’d slipped away from the party to go find.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down in the deck chair next to Grantaire’s.

Grantaire started with surprise, coughing to disguise his small cry.

“Zounds, Enjolras, don’t sneak up on a guy like that! Could have given me a heartache.”

Enjolras smiled and raised an eyebrow.

“Zounds?”

“Portmanteau-slash-bastardization of “God’s Wounds.” Sort of like “what in tarnation.” Shortened so you could swear without sounding blasphemous, but now are treated as barely swearing at all. Hey, did you know that the tarnation part was shortened from “eternal damnation?” This old stuff was hard core.”

“Why are you bringing this all back into your vocabulary now? Is “fuck” beneath you now, too dirty for polite company?”

Grantaire scoffed a laugh at that, and Enjolras smiled again. He liked being able to make Grantaire laugh.

“We both know that neither of us have ever been polite company, oh fearless leader. Nah, it’s my glassblowing teacher this semester. The man makes the most beautiful things out of glass, but he’s as prim as a church pastor. Doesn’t feel right saying fuck around him, so I’m trying to fit in more words for when I drop my project on the ground for the fifth time.”

Grantaire sighed and leaned back into his chair again, watching Enjolras curiously.

“Why are you out here, Enjolras? Party’s in full swing inside, Courfeyrac will be missing you when he finally decides it’s time for cake.”

Enjolras shrugged.

“I came to find you,” he said simply. The lightness that had lit Grantaire’s face dimmed slightly as his expression closed off. It wasn’t a huge change, Grantaire was still smiling and if Enjolras hadn’t been watching he might not have noticed it, but he was and he did.

“I didn’t think I’d be noticed, slipping out here.” Grantaire looked away, his smile slipping lopsided and bitter.

“I’m not much of a partier tonight, and everyone else seemed very occupied with each other so I didn’t expect anyone to miss my sorry ass.”

“I noticed,” Enjolras said, watching Grantaire, “I missed you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” he scoffed, his crooked smile turning sharper, “I’m sure things are going better without my long-winded abrasiveness chafing at everyone.”

“Not at all!” Enjolras said, his forcefulness startling Grantaire into looking back at him. Enjolras reached out and grabbed R’s hand in both of his. “Your wit and presence brightens every one of us and our group wouldn’t be the same without you. I know I might not have shown it very well at first, but Grantaire you are one of my closest and dearest friends and I wouldn’t give you up for the world.”

“When you say it like that a guy can almost believe you,” Grantaire said, trying to joke it off, but Enjolras squeezed his hand for emphasis.

“It’s true,” he said, leaning forward slightly, “My life has been better for having you in it.”

Grantaire’s face softened, looking starstruck, and Enjolras kept his gaze, trying to convey the sincerity of his words with his eyes alone and feeling his face gradually getting warmer.

“Enjolras...” Grantaire murmured, and Enjolras’ eyes flicked down to his lips.

The sound of the glass door opening made them both jump.

“Hey you two! Quit making eyes at each other and come inside, Courfeyrac wants to cut the cake!”

The glass door slid closed again as, task done, Feuilly went back to join the group. Enjolras looked back at Grantaire’s face was as flushed as his felt. R pulled his hand away, wiping his palms on his jeans as he stood up, and Enjolras felt a small pang at the loss.

“I guess we should go back inside then,” he said, standing up too and starting to turn away, but Grantaire caught his arm.

“Wait, Enjolras.” He took a deep breath and Enjolras waited, watching Grantaire. “I think we both have a lot of things to say to each other, but tonight isn’t a good time for that conversation. Can I take you out for lunch sometime? Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds great,” Enjolras said, smiling. “Tomorrow after my class? I’ll text you tonight after the party’s done.”

“Deal,” Grantaire said, grinning back and holding out a hand to shake. Enjolras laughed and took it, and they went inside before any of their other friends could come out and see what the hold up was.


Sitting back in his chair from his desk, Enjolras stretched his shoulders back and groaned slightly when he felt something shift. Rubbing his eyes with one hand he pushed his laptop closed, essay done and submitted. Checking his phone he replied to Grantaire’s string of emojis with a few of his own, smiling down at the screen, before shoving it back in his pocket and scooping up his empty tea mug to take back to the kitchen.

He frowned when he stepped into the hallway and saw that the light was still on in the living room. Going to investigate, he found Combeferre and Joly passed out on the couch, a pile of flashcards spilled between them from a study session gone late. Courfeyrac was sprawled over a chair asleep as well, and Enjolras smiled and shook his head. Putting his cup in the sink, he went and grabbed some extra blankets and spread them over his friends, stacking the scattered flashcards on the coffee table.

Yawning, he went back to his room, smiling softly.


Enjolras stood outside, looking up at the stars and feeling the warmth of the late spring night. Inside was the last party after finals his friends would be having all together like this, so he’d escaped outside to find some space to process his melancholy. A soft wind picked up and he closed his eyes, feeling it brush across his skin and through his curls.

At the sound of the sliding glass door he turned and smiled when he saw Grantaire.

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Grantaire said, pushing the door shut behind him and coming to stand next to Enjolras, sliding an arm around his waist and kissing his cheek hello. Enjolras hummed softly and put his own arm around Grantaire’s shoulders.

“I just needed a moment to process everything, I’m alright.”

“I understand. Courfeyrac keeps talking loudly about how it’s “an end of an era” and “closing one chapter of our life and moving on to the next.”” Grantaire gestured wildly with his free hand in mimicry of Courfeyrac’s exaggerated  movements, making Enjolras laugh. He stopped after a moment though, sighing and looking back up at the stars.

Grantaire studied his face from the side, quieting also.

“They’re not going to forget about you, you know,” he said, bumping Enjolras’ hip with his own, “We may be going our separate ways for a while, but none of us could forget about you.”

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about, I just.” He paused and sighed again. “Everything’s changing after we graduate.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. Endings are hard, but they’re also beginnings, and things might not be the same after this, but would you really want them to stay like this forever?”

“I suppose not,” Enjolras sighed, leaning his head down on Grantaire’s shoulder.

“There you have it!  Things will change, but such is the nature of life.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Enjolras’ forehead. “Ready to go back inside for our last party in this house?”

Enjolras nodded. “Let’s go.”

Grantaire turned to go back inside but Enjolras caught his arm.

“Hold on R, one more thing.” He leaned in and kissed Grantaire softly. “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Grantaire smiled at him and they went back inside the house holding hands.

Notes:

Written for Team Enjolras of the 2020 ExR Games! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it ❤️️