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“Monsieur R, can you help me with this problem?” little Alexandre Enjolras asks, lisp making his teacher’s nickname sound more like “‘Aiwe”.
He waves his hand in the air, trying to get Grantaire’s attention. Grantaire turns away from where he’s writing the day’s agenda on his whiteboard to look at him with a smile on his face.
“Of course!” he exclaims. “Are you having trouble with adding the numbers? Don’t worry, I have trouble with them too sometimes.”
Alex shakes his head, blond curls springing around his face. As usual, he’s here before school since his father apparently works from dawn to dusk. In fact, Grantaire has a suspicion that the woman who drops Alex off every morning isn’t even related to him, but it isn’t his business to snoop.
“Or is it French that’s giving you trouble?” Grantaire tries when his student doesn’t answer.
Alex stares at him with wide blue eyes before shaking his head again. “No, I’m okay at those.”
Grantaire believes it. Alex is extraordinarily smart for a kindergartener, which means his parents must have raised him well. Grantaire gestures for him to continue.
“Papa is lonely,” Alex mumbles. “He comes home late, and he always gives me a hug before tucking me in, but he looks so tired all the time.”
Grantaire walks over and kneels in front of him, making sure to look into his eyes. “Are you lonely?”
Alex makes a noise of dissent and replies, “Auntie ‘Ponine and Auntie ‘Sette are always around. They take care of me when Papa is busy.”
Grantaire sighs in relief. And then he frowns. How neglectful is this man to leave his child alone with his aunts? Alex is a sweet boy with an adorable smile, who seems like he loves and looks up to his father very much. Not to be dramatic, but Grantaire would die for him, even after only knowing him for the few months that he has had him as a student. He’s not picking favorites or anything, of course.
“You’re more than welcome to come early or stay late, y’know,” he tells Alex.
“I know. Aha! I think you should marry Papa,” Alex declares, suddenly perking up. “That would solve the problem.”
Grantaire gapes at his student before spluttering, “H-Huh? Wha- you want me to do what now?”
Alex huffs, “I don’t want it. I need it. You and Papa should get married.”
“That’s absurd, no offense! I’m sure your father is a nice man-” Nice? Wasn’t Grantaire just mentally cursing him? “-but I don’t even know him!”
“That’s okay!” Alex chirps. “He’s funny sometimes and tells bad jokes, but you said you like bad jokes. Oh! And he listens when I talk about you. You can come home after school today and meet him!”
“I can’t just show up to your home unannounced, Alex. That’s basically intruding… your father might get upset,” Grantaire protests, ignoring the fact that Alex apparently talks about him.
“Please, please, please! You might be able to make Papa happy, and when Papa is happy, I’m happy.” Alex widens blue eyes at him. “You say you like it when I’m happy, right?”
Oh, this manipulative child. Grantaire sighs. “I wonder why I do sometimes.” When Alex pouts, he quickly amends, “Maybe not today. I promise I will later, okay?”
“Okay!”
Grantaire promptly forgets about his promise until a few months later when Alex bounces up to him, eyes glinting with mischief.
“Monsieur R, Monsieur R, you can make good on your promise soon!”
“Huh?” Grantaire’s mind goes blank. Is there something he’s missing?
“Parent-teacher conferences, remember? Papa said he could come!”
Something turns in Grantaire’s stomach, and he suddenly feels very nervous to meet Alex’s guardian. “I-I see.” He bends down and whispers, “Is he scary?”
Alex giggles. “He’s only scary to…” he scrunches his nose and slowly pronounces, “po-li-ti-cians,” by carefully sounding out each syllable. “Papa is a serious man, but he smiles at me! Besides, you’re super nice to me, so he should be super nice to you.”
Grantaire feels something warm course through his veins. Alex looks so happy when he sings praises about his father, and the man must truly care for him more than Grantaire originally assumed if he inspires so much hope.
“Tell him to reply to the email I sent out, okay?”
“Mhm!” Alex runs off, probably to chat with one of his friends.
The thing is, Alex’s father never replies to any of the mass emails Grantaire sends out. He donates money or school supplies when asked—and sometimes when he isn’t, and it’s always much, much, more than Grantaire or any teacher can fathom—but there has not been a single time Grantaire has received an email from the elusive Monsieur Enjolras.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, undoubtedly covering it with green streaks of paint. Ah, right. Grantaire remembers that he’s in the middle of an art lesson, so he wanders around, looking at everyone’s paintings. Calling them paintings would be a massive stretch, but they’re definitely made of paint and still beautiful—for a bunch of five-year-olds anyway.
“Pierre, that looks amazing!” Grantaire praises and receives a toothy grin in return. He turns just in time to witness another one of his students nearly dip her fingers in the paint. “Jeanne, please use the brush, dear.”
After he makes a circle around the room, Grantaire exhales deeply, eyes wide. Taking care of a bunch of kids is exhausting, to say the least, but he enjoys it. They’re all full of such innocence and vigor, lacking the cynicism that inevitably takes ahold of people. Grantaire especially adores their brutal honesty like the way two of them poke fun at each other’s corner suns with whiskers.
The kids stop arguing when he steps up and puts his hands on his hips, shaking his head in a disappointed manner. Both of them look at their feet and apologize in unison, “Sorry, Monsieur R.”
“It’s okay, darlings. Just make sure you say sorry to each other too,” Grantaire reprimands gently, smiling at them encouragingly.
Satisfied, he ambles back to Alex’s table, where the boy is working away at his piece, shielding it from view with the arm that isn’t scribbling furiously. His golden eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, and his tongue sticks out of a corner of his mouth. Quite frankly, it’s adorable.
“What are you painting, Alex?” Grantaire asks and nearly gets a tiny paint-covered hand in his face for his troubles.
“Shh, it’s a surprise,” Alex replies, not looking up. “Go look at Amélie’s thingy first.”
Biting his lip to hide a smile, Grantaire obediently turns to the girl next to him, who eagerly presents a blob of pink and blue and purple where the colors intersect. It’s very abstract, he thinks absently. Out loud, he comments, “It’s very nice. I like the colors you chose.”
“Thank you, Monsieur R!”
Before he can say anything else, Grantaire feels an insistent tug on his apron. A smear of red is left behind. Thank God for smocks.
“Yes, Alex?” he asks.
“Look, I painted you, me, and Papa!” the kid trills, pointing to each stick figure in turn. “The green is like your favorite sweater,” he adds matter-of-factly. The painting is funky, and Grantaire’s hair is not that wild, thank you very much, but the figures on the page look so much like a happy family that his heart longs for it.
Grantaire sighs. Alex is going to kill him at some point, and he’s going to die from sweet and hopeful smiles. He puts on a grin of his own, mustering up the courage to ask in a voice that breaks at the end, “Is red your dad’s favorite color?”
“Yep! He wears a lot of red. So much that Uncle Courf has to drag him out to shop for ‘real clothes’. But Papa also told me that red is the color of passion.”
“That is true,” Grantaire concedes. “It’s also the color of anger and love, both of which come from here.” He taps his chest above his heart. “Your father must be a passionate person.”
Alex shrugs. “He cares a lot about lots of things. He’s always talking about charities and homeless people and poverty.”
So Monsieur Enjolras is a good person too. Grantaire really needs to re-evaluate his assumptions. Isn’t he the one who teaches his students not to judge a book by its cover? He supposes it’s even worse when he’s alreayd judging a person without even seeing their cover first.
“Well, I can’t wait to see for myself,” Grantaire tells Alex honestly.
Alex is jabbering away excitedly, but Grantaire is only paying attention to half of what he’s saying. For the most part, he is being eaten alive with nervousness. He wants to meet the man whom his student adores, but he simultaneously wants to hide in his classroom until his next conference.
“... kitties, Monsieur R,” Alex declares, gesturing wildly. Grantaire blinks.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asks, turning all his attention to his student. Might as well distract himself until the clock strikes the hour.
“I said, ‘I want kitties’. Do you like kitties?”
Grantaire blinks again before a small smile makes its way onto his face. “I love cats, in fact. I used to have one when I was a kid.”
“That must’ve been a looong time ago,” Alex says, propping his chin in his hands. “Papa says I might be able to have a cat if I learn how to take care of myself first.”
That’s… actually really reasonable, but let the kid have a cat, for heaven’s sake! Grantaire pointedly ignores the dig at his age—twenty-five is not old—in favor of telling Alex little anecdotes about his former pets.
He is so engrossed in his story-telling and the enraptured expression on Alex’s face that he doesn’t realize when fifteen minutes have passed in a blur. The next time Grantaire inhales, he feels a pair eyes boring holes in his shirt. Upon looking up, the breath catches in his throat.
A man, tall and handsome, is standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the doorframe. He’s dressed in a well-fitting suit with the top few buttons of his shirt undone and a red tie loose around his neck. The expression in his blue eyes is intense, making Grantaire freeze like a deer caught in headlights.
Tentatively, he clears his throat and asks, “Is there something you need, Monsieur?”
The stranger visibly snaps out of whatever stupor he was in and opens his mouth to blurt out, “Marry me.”
“What?!” Grantaire screeches, nearly falling out of his chair, at the same time Alex lights up and jumps out of his own chair to skip over to the door.
“Papa!” he exclaims, and a familiar smile graces the lips of the stranger—Monsieur Enjolras. Alex flings himself at his father, who catches him easily and hefts him up into his arms.
Grantaire feels like he’s intruding on a private moment. He turns away, but a rich voice brings his attention back to the situation at hand.
“I have to apologize. I was a bit caught up in my emotions, you see. It’s not every day I come across someone who cares as clearly about my son as I do,” Monsieur Enjolras explains hurriedly.
There should be a rule against hot dads who care about their kids. Taking a shaky breath, Grantaire replies very audaciously, “I barely know you, Monsieur-”
“Enjolras. Just Enjolras is fine.”
“I barely know you, Just Enjolras, but rather than proposing marriage, we could go on a date and get to know each other then,” he finishes, unable to resist making the joke. When Enjolras doesn’t reply, Grantaire stares down at his lap, cheeks heating, and stammers, “U-Uh, we don’t have to, of course. That’s highly unprofessional of me, I’m so sorry.”
His head whips up when he hears a chair being drawn. Grantaire watches in trepidation as Enjolras removes his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, revealing gloriously toned forearms and a hint of a tattoo—seriously, how the heck a politician can look this attractive is beyond Grantaire—before sitting down across from him. Alex squeals as he’s suddenly plopped into his father’s lap.
“I would be amenable,” Enjolras replies mildly. “However, I have to agree with your point on professionalism. This is a conference, after all.” Grantaire looks down at his lap again, ashamed, but glances up so swiftly he almost gets whiplash when Enjolras asks, “Alex, do you think I should go on a date with your teacher?”
Alex nods so quickly that Grantaire is afraid his head might fall off. He replies, “You should, Papa. Monsieur R is probably one of my top five favorite people ever.”
Grantaire might cry or faint or even cry before fainting. That’s perhaps the highest praise he’s ever gotten in his life. Instead, he elects to gape at both Enjolras and his son.
He notices how Enjolras takes a moment to mouth the nickname before asking, “What? My son’s input is very important to me. Besides, a conference about Alex should include him, no?”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course. I’m… I’m just glad you agreed and didn’t let me look like an even bigger fool.” The last part comes out as a mumble.
Like approving of Grantaire was his one vital contribution to the meeting, Alex promptly falls asleep against his father’s chest. Grantaire finds himself unable to look away from the domesticity on display in front of him.
Meanwhile, Enjolras’s eyes soften as he says, “I didn’t accept just to allow you to save face. Alex talks about you non-stop, according to his aunts.”
“Oh dear.”
“All good things, I promise. The last thing I hear every night before he falls asleep is about you, and I have to admit that I was a bit envious at first because of that, but I started to look forward to knowing more and more about you through my son’s eyes.”
Grantaire just knows that he’s blushing furiously. Nothing could’ve prepared him for this strange turn of events, so he decides to focus on one thing at a time.
“I swear, I don’t mean to be the source of jealousy or anything. It’s obvious he loves you, and I also have to say that initially, I was kinda angry at you for not being more present,” Grantaire mutters awkwardly. “But clearly, you’re busy, and you’re obviously doing well for the two of you. It’s just- Alex looks up to you a lot, and I can understand why, so I felt annoyed when he mentioned you weren’t around that much.”
A guilty expression takes over Enjolras’s face while Grantaire lowers his gaze to stare at Alex’s sleeping form. He watches as Enjolras cradles him and rubs his back gently before kissing the side of his head. It’s obvious how much he loves his kid, and any doubts Grantaire might’ve had immediately disappear.
“And for that, I will regret it forever,” Enjolras replies at last. “It’s not an excuse, but his mother dropped him off on my doorstep right after I finished my bachelor’s, and I was thrown for quite the loop. I don’t even know who she is, and I certainly don’t remember ever sleeping with her, and I wouldn't consciously, given that I'm, uh, not attracted to women. My adoptive sister and her wife looked after him while I went to grad school.”
Grantaire has to forgive him for that. He’s had plenty of drunken escapades in the past and spent nights with many strangers he didn’t even recognize the morning after. He nods slowly, understanding Enjolras’s situation. At least Alex had someone to stay with him.
Before Grantaire can say anything else, a calendar reminder lights up on his phone in preparation for his next meeting. Enjolras stands up, giving him a smile that looks so tired that Grantaire has the sudden urge to usher both of them into bed and tell them to sleep for a millennium or two. Instead he scribbles his number down on a scrap piece of paper that might have addition problems on the back and hands it to Enjolras.
“You, um, can call or text. Either’s fine. And if Alex ever feels lonely, just let me know.”
Enjolras folds the paper up and slides it into his pocket, stepping out the door while still carrying his son. Well, Grantaire doesn’t have many email replies from the man, but he nurses a sliver of hope that Enjolras might put his number to good use.
For the rest of the day, Grantaire barely pays attention in his meetings, thoughts drifting to Enjolras and more importantly, his kid. He zones out so often in one of them that a parent—thankfully, not a rude one—asks if he’s alright. He apologizes and tells her that it’s been a long day, and she smiles sympathetically.
At last, Grantaire shoves his belongings in his bag and waves goodbye to the principal. Breathing a sigh of relief, he begins his walk home and just barely spends the effort to take off his shoes and pants before collapsing face-first in his bed.
Not quite falling asleep, he rubs his cheek against his soft pillow and takes a few calming breaths. And then he checks his phone to catch up on all the notifications he might have missed earlier. There are a few emails from confused parents, asking about the next day’s conferences, and a whole hoard of texts from Joly and Bossuet. One message in particular stands out, and he perks up.
18:35
Unknown Number: Hello, this is Enjolras. I’m just texting you, so you can have my number in your phone.
R: Thank you!
He makes sure to capitalize and punctuate properly, if only because he would feel bad if he didn’t. Enjolras’s text feels more like a business proposition than anything. Quickly, Grantaire saves the number under “enjolras” and hesitates for a moment before adding a little emoji heart.
enjolras❤️: Of course :)
Okay, maybe Grantaire doesn’t need to be so formal. He stares at the smiley face for at least a whole minute until it begins to mock him.
R: um so as for that date… next friday?
enjolras❤️: Works for me
enjolras❤️: Ah wait
Grantaire waits with bated breath, unsure of what will happen. He stares at the three dots appearing and disappearing and wonders if Enjolras is going to re-evaluate his decision and tell him that he is, in fact, not interested.
enjolras❤️: Instead of going out, are you willing to just come home with me and Alex? I can’t promise not to burn the place down, but I will attempt to make food
Grantaire giggles, half relieved and half elated, and quickly types out a reply.
R: sounds fun. and don’t worry, i’ll bring food :D
This time, he smiles stupidly at his screen, feeling like a teenager with a crush as he sighs into his pillow and burrows into the combined warmth of his blanket and sweater. They text back and forth for a while, trading stories and anecdotes.
Grantaire dozes off with their thread of texts still open and a happy expression on his face.
“Monsieur R, I have to show you my books,” Alex announces, taking Grantaire’s hand in one of his own and his father’s in the other as they turn a corner. “Papa says I should read The Social Contract, but I think he’s being silly.”
Grantaire grins at the huff Enjolras releases. To Alex, he says, “Maybe when you’re older, kitten,” and then wonders where the pet name came from.
“Yeah! There are so many big words in it. I like the books I read right now.”
Hefting the bag of foodstuffs and waving off Enjolras’s offer to carry it, Grantaire asks, “What books are you reading right now?”
“Ones about rainbow fairies. Do you think I can be magical when I grow up?” Alex’s eyes grow huge.
“You already are,” Grantaire tells him and boops his tiny nose. It scrunches adorably.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Alex whispers, motioning to his teacher to bend down. Grantaire complies. “I think you have magical powers.”
Grantaire presses a hand against his heart and exclaims, “What? What makes you think that?”
“You’re really pretty, you like cats, you’re nice, and you like my dad.”
“Shh, don’t give my secrets away, young man, or I’ll have to actually turn you into a kitten.” Grantaire wiggles his fingers while Alex shrieks. He doesn’t notice the fond smile Enjolras gives them.
“It’s kind of you to humor him,” he says.
Grantaire looks at Enjolras incredulously. “It’s my job. Besides, everyone is internally five years old, so it’s also my pleasure.”
Alex tugs on Grantaire’s hand and implores, “Can you stay with us forever?” He gasps and turns to his father. “Papa, can we keep Monsieur R?”
Enjolras gives him a stern look. “Alex, what did we say about autonomy? Monsieur R-”
“Would love to spend more time with you,” Grantaire interjects, giving Enjolras what he hopes is his own scolding expression. Thankfully, Enjolras looks suitably chastised. Alex is allowed to have dreams, and Grantaire would do anything in his power to make them come to life.
“-is free to do whatever he wants, and if that’s staying with us, he is more than welcome to,” Enjolras finishes right as they arrive at a modest-looking apartment building. “But first, we should have dinner.”
“Yes, we should,” Grantaire agrees. He toes off his loafers, following Enjolras’s example. The floor is cool under the thin layer of his low-cut socks. He looks around.
The apartment is neat with the exception of piles upon piles of papers and books on the table. Grantaire feels self-conscious of his own but pushes it down. He likes the mess at home with the pictures his students draw him hanging on the walls.
“You can set your stuff down there,” Enjolras says, pulling him out of his trance. He points to the island in front of the small kitchen, and Grantaire nods.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll be using your kitchen.”
Enjolras looks at him curiously, tilting his head. “Oh, I don’t mind, but I thought you got takeout or something.”
“Nope. Wanna help?” Grantaire asks.
He regrets it as soon as he finds out that Enjolras wasn’t lying about how useless he is in the kitchen. He shuffles between confusion and curiosity and is absolutely not allowed to be such a distraction, in more ways than one. Grantaire nearly burns himself when he feels Enjolras breathing down his neck.
“Get out,” he huffs, nearly screaming when a blond head appears next to his own and scares the living heck out of him.
“Are you kicking me out of my own kitchen?” Enjolras teases.
Grantaire glares at him when he sticks his finger in the sauce and hisses at how hot it is. Idiot, he thinks fondly. “Absolutely. Go play with your kid or something.”
On cue, Alex peeks around the corner, and Grantaire’s eyes soften. He is also fully aware that Enjolras is looking at his face.
“Can I help?” Alex asks in a quiet voice. “I promise I won’t annoy you like Papa is.”
Grantaire feels his blood pressure rise and an eyebrow twitch when father and son stick their tongues out at each other. Five-year-olds.
“If you promise not to hurt yourself,” he answers pointedly. He gives Alex the very important task of sitting quietly on the counter and staring at the pot in case fairies or something come to steal their food.
Dinner is infinitely more exciting with Alex and his father, Grantaire decides. They talk for at least an hour after they finish eating. When Enjolras does a disturbingly accurate impression of the cop who always stands in front of the school, Grantaire laughs until tears stream from his eyes. The identical grins he receives in response fill him with so much more warmth.
He no longer feels like an intruder and more like a part of their small family, no matter how cheesy that sounds.
When Alex looks like he’s about to faceplant into his empty plate, Enjolras picks him up, and Grantaire clears the table. He stubbornly shakes his head when Enjolras protests.
“They’ll be harder to clean later, and Alex is half-asleep already,” Grantaire points out.
“Fine. Just rinse them, and we’ll put the dishwasher to good use later, if it’s not too much trouble,” Enjolras says. He hesitates before continuing, “And, if you want, you can tuck Alex in with me.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Grantaire whispers.
Alex yawns and blinks, trying to fight off the urge to close them. He mumbles sleepily, “I’m glad you are my dads,” before passing out against his pillow and letting out a huge snore for such a tiny person.
Blushing, Grantaire chalks it up to being delirious. Seriously, what’s it with these two and trying to get him hitched? He shakes his head and steps in close, stroking Alex’s blond curls before kissing them.
He stands to the side, watching Enjolras pull the covers up to his chin before clicking the lamp off. He walks back over and joins Grantaire in watching his son sleep.
“Um, I don’t know what he was saying,” Grantaire starts, fully aware of how much space there is between the two of them in that doorway. Or the lack thereof.
“My kid is smart,” Enjolras remarks. “Even when he’s half-asleep.”
“I’m aware, but-”
“Can I kiss you?”
Grantaire chokes out, “I don’t know. Can you?”
“Fine,” Enjolras says, rolling his eyes. “May I kiss you?”
“Yes, you may.” It comes out breathy and a hint desperate, but Grantaire can’t bring himself to care at all. The atmosphere immediately turns intimate.
When the mere centimeters between them begin to diminish, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Tentatively, he smooths Enjolras’s collar down with his hands and gasps at the first gentle press of lips against his own. It’s sweet, ridiculously so, and Grantaire feels warm and fuzzy inside as they kiss.
And then Enjolras curves his hands around Grantaire’s waist, making him moan softly when they slip under the hem of his sweater. Enjolras’s hands provide the most delicious heat as the tender slide of lips against each other deepens into something that makes Grantaire woozy and lightheaded.
“Your eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue,” Enjolras whispers as he presses his forehead against Grantaire’s. “I think I noticed them sparkle when I first saw you interact with Alex.”
“I like yours too,” Grantaire croaks, not trusting his voice to say more than that. He gets a kiss. When he finally catches his breath, he says, “I don’t want this night to end.”
“Well, I happen to have a bedroom with a nice bed,” Enjolras replies, raising his eyes inquisitively. “We don’t have to do anything of that sort… partly because this is only the first date, and uh, Alex is sleeping. We could cuddle or watch a movie or whatever you like.”
“Cuddling while watching a movie? Count me in.”
Ten minutes later, Grantaire sheds his own sweater and jeans in exchange for the red sweater Enjolras handed him earlier. It’s soft and smells just faintly of the cologne Enjolras wears. It also falls to mid-thigh and completely covers Grantaire’s boxer-briefs because Enjolras happens to be as tall as a tree.
When he comes out of the bathroom, Grantaire fiddles with the sleeves that flop over his fingertips. He’s greeted by the gorgeous and oh-so-alluring sight of Enjolras in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He looks like he would give wonderful hugs as opposed to verbal beatings when he’s in his usual politician-destroying ensemble.
Meanwhile, Enjolras gapes at Grantaire, probably taking in the sight of him in his clothes. His gaze is intense and makes Grantaire feel tingly from head to toe. He clears his throat quietly.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Enjolras asks after snapping out of his daze, pulling back the quilt on his bed. “After you.”
“Such a gentleman,” Grantaire remarks as he slides in. Immediately, he’s surrounded by the same warmth that seems to accompany Enjolras. “And here I recall you mentioned you didn’t often have people in your bed.”
A light dusting of pink rises to Enjolras’s cheeks. “Sometimes, Alex has nightmares and jumps into my bed for a cuddle.”
“Oh,” Grantaire breathes. “That’s precious.”
“So… hypothetically, if he pops in tonight, you wouldn’t mind?”
He shakes his head. “Of course not.”
The relieved expression on Enjolras’s face shouldn’t even have to exist. His son is the sweetest boy Grantaire knows, and if he gets scared, he would hug and cuddle him without a single doubt.
“Uh, are you gonna get in? This is kinda awkward.”
“Right, of course.” Enjolras shakes his head briefly, probably to clear it, before slipping in with him.
Immediately, the movie starts up, quiet so as to not disturb Alex. They’re propped up against the many fluffy pillows, and Grantaire instinctively burrows into Enjolras’s body heat, smiling when he puts an arm around him and pulls him closer. He could be a space heater for a living if politics don’t work out, Grantaire thinks.
“I can see why Alex likes the cuddles. You’re nice and warm.” To prove his point, Grantaire snuggles closer until they’re pressed together from head to toe. He rests his head on Enjolras’s shoulder, sighing happily when a hand runs through his curly hair.
“A compliment, surely.”
“Absolutely. Cuddle me some more.”
Enjolras complies, but Grantaire doesn’t catch the devious expression on his face until it’s too late. Rubbing his cheek aggressively against the top of Grantaire’s head, not unlike a cat, Enjolras causes him to squeal and slap a hand over his mouth to muffle a yelp.
“Your hair,” Enjolras wheezes, doubling up in laughter.
Grantaire glares at him and tries to fix it, batting Enjolras’s hand away when he tries to help. He flips over, so his back is to Enjolras and mutters, “You’re evil.”
“Aww, don’t be like that. You still look very pretty. Even cuter, too.”
A blush rises to Grantaire’s cheeks, which Enjolras thankfully can’t see. He shivers when tiny kisses are placed to the back of his neck and an arm snakes around his waist.
“C’mon,” Enjolras murmurs, voice low and rumbly in Grantaire’s ear. That’s so unfair. “Look at me again? I can’t believe you’re denying me the opportunity to lose myself in your eyes.”
Grantaire pouts at the wall. He thought the man hugging him from behind was supposed to be against the notion of having power over another. How can he resist a line like that?
“You’re a manipulative person, Enjolras,” Grantaire declares, but he does as he’s asked. They gaze into each other, maintaining eye contact, and he loses track of how long Enjolras just looks at him, making his cheeks burn brightly.
“I’m sure there are many individuals out there in the world who use their power to do much worse than ask to stare at someone they adore,” Enjolras points out matter-of-factly, breaking the heavy silence.
Without expecting it, Grantaire finds himself drawn in and kissed within an inch of his life. Teeth scrape gently against his bottom lip, and the only thing he can think of, in his muddled state, is that passionate is definitely the word to describe Enjolras and how his favorite color being red makes more sense now.
When they break apart for air, Grantaire is left a breathless mess, likely crimson in the face and disheveled beyond repair. And then small kisses are being placed to his swollen lips. Now, instead of being propped up against the headboard, they are facing each other, lying under the covers.
“I could kiss you forever,” Enjolras breathes into the space between them. “Let me kiss you forever.”
Truthfully, Grantaire is seconds away to just giving in. Instead, he pushes away, not getting far at all in the circle of Enjolras’s arms, and has to ask, “What’s with you two and trying to drag me into your little family?”
“Hmm?”
Grantaire sighs, twisting his fingers in the thin fabric of Enjolras’s shirt and shifting in close again. “Alex said you were lonely, y’know.”
“I have him and my sister and my sister-in-law and my friends,” Enjolras says, but he sounds unsure of where this is going.
“At first, that’s what I thought he meant,” Grantaire replies before dropping the bomb. “And then he suggested that I marry you.”
To his satisfaction, a faint pink dusts the top of Enjolras’s cheeks. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. Grantaire is surprised, to say the least, when Enjolras tells him, “That might be partly my fault, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I told you about Alex telling me about you every night, right?” Enjolras asks, and when Grantaire nods, he continues, “I said that you seemed intriguing and, ah, you would be fun to talk to. I suppose he took it to mean that I wanted you to marry me.”
“You can’t blame everything on your son, Enjolras, unless asking me to marry you last week was just a slip of a tongue? You must’ve been considering it.”
“Fine, maybe,” Enjolras concedes. “Seriously, though. I didn’t even know what you looked like when I thought my son’s kindergarten teacher might make good spouse material.”
“Oh? So what about after you saw me for the first time?” Grantaire asks.
“Do I have to embarrass myself?”
“Enjolras, darling, you already did within seconds of meeting me, but in your defense, so did I. Also please, I just want to know. Hurt or heal my ego with your words. I don’t mind.”
“Uh, right after taking one look at you, I decided that you’re the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out, and not just because you were smiling at Alex. When you got all flustered, I decided that you’re the most adorable person too,” Enjolras replies before squeezing Grantaire. “Seriously, you’re practically flawless.”
Grantaire squirms when Enjolras gently takes his arm, grazing his skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever his fingers linger. His touch is tender and just barely there, but it makes shivers run down his spine. Grantaire stares as Enjolras links their fingers together and thinks that it is utterly ridiculous how his hand is practically dwarfed. Enjolras brings their clasped hands to his mouth to kiss the pale skin on the back of Grantaire’s. His thumb continues to rub soothing circles against it.
“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Grantaire mumbles.
Enjolras looks at him curiously and asks, “Wouldn’t mind what?”
“Later—as in many years later—if you and Alex still like having me around, I’ll happily say yes if you ask me to marry you again.”
“Of course-”
“Don’t, Enjolras,” Grantaire quickly interrupts, placing a finger to Enjolras’s lips. He kisses it. “I’m not going anywhere unless you want me to, but we’ve only known each other for a week. There’s still plenty of time to think it through.”
“R, I swear to you that there will be no other like you,” Enjolras promises. “In a few years, I’ll ask you again with a ring and a sappy speech.”
Grantaire has to smile. “I look forward to it. But right now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep.”
Enjolras pulls him close, making sure to hold him tightly. Grantaire lets himself be enveloped in the feeling of comfort and security he provides, tucking his head into the crook of Enjolras’s neck. Their hands still remain clasped between them.
Loneliness will never be a concern to either of them ever again.
Fifteen years later, Grantaire finds himself being rudely woken up. He shoves his face in his pillow and lets out a noise that sounds like, “Mrgh.”
“Love, Alex is coming home today,” Enjolras murmurs in his ear. That seems to work when Grantaire’s eyes suddenly shoot open. “But you’re more than welcome to stay in bed until then.”
Grantaire shakes his head and throws back the covers, shivering when his bare feet hit the cold floor, before he tosses on Enjolras’s sweater. “I have to make him muffins. I promised I would.”
Before he can get very far, Enjolras pulls him in and guides him into a kiss, tilting his chin up. The silver band on his ring finger glints as it catches the sunlight filtering in through the window. Grantaire melts into the kiss, sighing softly into his husband’s mouth for a moment and using his own hand to reach up and cup Enjolras’s jaw. It’s still as defined as ever, even at the age of forty.
Grantaire steps away to stretch without whacking his husband in the face and allows the sweater to ride up as he bends backwards. When he straightens, he takes note of the slight darkening of Enjolras’s usually bright blue eyes and huffs a laugh. It’s nice to know he can still get his husband all hot and bothered. Thank God for yoga.
Patting Enjolras’s cheek fondly when he leans in for another kiss that will definitely lead to another and then another, Grantaire steps away and tosses a coy look over his shoulder as he saunters to the door.
“Maybe later,” he promises, rising onto his toes to give Enjolras’s cheek a peck when he pouts. “Don’t you want our kid to be happy?”
“I love you,” Enjolras declares. “I’m also really glad you stuck around. I’d be so lost without you, my love. It goes without saying that Alex’s happiness is a priority to me.”
Grantaire lets himself be drawn into his husband’s strong embrace, and his heart feels warm. “I love you too, and I’m glad I stuck around.”
By the time Alex arrives, Grantaire is halfway in Enjolras’s lap, still clad only in the red sweater and his underwear and feeding his husband bits of muffin.
“Wow, you two are disgusting,” Alex remarks. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and looking just like Enjolras did all those years ago. The resemblance is too uncanny.
Faster than anyone can blink, Grantaire removes himself from his husband and tackles his son in a hug. He sobs, “I missed you, kid. Never leave again.”
Alex pats his head comfortingly before hunkering down to hug him back in earnest. Stupid Enjolras genes mean that he’s also stupidly tall. Then Enjolras comes over and joins in on the affection, and they all collapse on the couch in a massive cuddle pile. A juvenile painting of the three of them—framed to prevent it from being accidentally destroyed—hangs above their heads, and Alex’s eyes soften upon seeing it again.
“By the way, who raised you to call your own fathers disgusting?” Grantaire asks, glaring up at Alex when they disentangle themselves. “Need I remind you that you’re the one who wanted us to get married in the first place?”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Did I say disgusting? My bad. I meant sappy and sickeningly sweet. Practically cavity-inducing.”
“That’s better.”
From his other side, Enjolras huffs quietly like he’s laughing at his husband’s antics.
“Seriously, I missed you two,” Alex whispers. “I love you guys.”
“And we love you too,” Enjolras replies as they all snuggle closer.
A distant part of Grantaire wonders where all those years went. When did Alex grow up from a curious little boy into a handsome young man? Feeling extremely emotional while he’s being swallowed in affection by his husband and son, Grantaire nods, smiling at both of them.
“We’re family, after all.”
Fin.