Work Text:
“You must be joking.”
Cosette sighed loudly. “Of course I’m not. I don’t know why you’re making this such a big deal. What else are you going to do?”
“What else will I do other than spend Thanksgiving with my family? How about….volunteer at a food shelter?”
“You can do that in the morning before the actual meal.”
“Order a pizza and get some work done. Crash Combeferre’s dinner. Go to Father’s house, not to eat, but to throw eggs at it and teepee the place.”
Cosette sighed again. “Enjolras. Please. Father really wants us both to be there. I really want you to be there. We haven’t spent any major holidays together yet.”
“Why can’t we go to Valjean’s house?”
“I promised Papa I’d spend Christmas with him. But Felix, I mean, Father asked me to spend Thanksgiving with him. It’s important to him. And me.”
Enjolras groaned and leaned his head against his headboard. His father, Felix Tholomyes, was the most selfish, self-serving bastard Enjolras had ever met in his life.
About six months ago, Cosette came into their lives. It turned out she was Felix’s daughter by another woman, Fantine. Felix apparently had an affair with her when he was on a business trip, left her, and never looked back. He had been all for ignoring Cosette, until he saw her: a beautiful, smart, kind young woman. It was then Felix realized that an emotional reunion with a long-lost daughter who was as likable as Cosette might be a good political move. Felix had just announced he was running for Congress. And he knew that an illegitimate daughter was something that would come out eventually. Better to control the story and embrace his beautiful daughter, than having it leaked he had turned his back on the girl.
And so Cosette became a part of Felix’s life. Cosette, innocent Cosette was thrilled to connect with her long-lost family. Her adopted father on the other hand, Jean Valjean kept his distance, neither liking or trusting Felix. (The minute he realized Valjean wouldn’t fall prey to his father’s charms was the minute Enjolras realized he liked Valjean).
For his part, Enjolras was thrilled to find out he had a sister, and tried to make up for lost time, clearing spots in his busy schedule to make sure he had time to spend with Cosette. They went to college in the same city, and she fit in with his friends. It wasn’t just about getting to know Cosette- Enjolras had a lot of big-brother duties to make up for, and that included protecting Cosette, even from their own father. He couldn’t let her go to that dinner alone, and be paraded around like some show-pony.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Cosette’s delighted squeals almost made it worth it.
***
“Why am I doing this again?” Enjolras asked, as he riffled through his closet to see if he had anything to wear for Thanksgiving.
“Because you love Cosette,” Combeferre said.
“Right,” Enjolras said, squinting at an old, faded blazer. He tossed it in the maybe pile. He didn’t want to look too respectable, but he didn’t want to be overly-antagonistic either
“Awww….” Courfeyrac cooed at his phone. “This guy saw this girl walking in the park and they made eye contact, but her scary dad appeared, and so the guy ran away. He thinks her name is Ursula, and he can’t stop thinking about her.”
“What?” Enjolras said, putting his ‘I don’t need a boyfriend, the government fucks me everyday’ t-shirt in the maybe pile
“Craigslist. Casual encounters.”
“I have no idea what those words mean,” Enjolras muttered as he considered his skinny jeans.
Courfeyrac cackled. “Oh my god. Combeferre. Look at this one!”
Combeferre peered over his shoulder, and chuckled. “Don’t give him any ideas.”
“’Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad?’”
Enjolras swiveled around. “What?”
Combeferre elbowed Courfeyrac in the ribs. “What did I say? Don’t give him ideas.”
“It’s just a post someone put in ‘casual encounters’. It’s probably a joke,” Courfeyrac said, trying to shut his computer.
Enjolras was at his side in a flash. He skimmed the posting, his brain whirling.
“No,” Combeferre said. “No, Enjolras.”
“Seriously,” Courfeyrac said, wrestling his laptop away from Enjolras. “Please don’t contact a rando from Craigslist and invite them to your house.”
“I won’t,” Enjolras said solemnly.
***
It took him maybe 20 minutes to find the posting again once Combeferre and Courfeyrac had left. He wasn’t breaking his promise. He wasn’t inviting a ‘rando’ to his house. He was going to contact a rando and invite him to his father’s house. There was a big difference. And luckily, Combeferre was going to Courfeyrac’s house for Thanksgiving, and they were so pre-occupied with Combeferre finally meeting Courfeyrac’s family, so Enjolras could probably get away with it.
Enjolras wasn’t completely naïve. He arranged to meet the Craigslist in a public place- the Corinth, a bar on campus. He strummed his fingers on the counter, waiting.
“Excuse me.”
Enjolras turned around, and was face to face with a man with wild, dark curls and startling blue eyes. The man let out a startled gasp, and stared at Enjolras. When it appeared he was not inclined to say anything, Enjolras broke the silence.
“Yes?”
“Uh, sorry. I think I’m supposed to meet you here. From…Craigslist?” the man said, running a nervous hand through his hair. That surprised Enjolras. He thought the author of the post would be way more self-assured.
“Right,” Enjolras slid off his barstool and offered his hand. “I’m Enjolras.”
“Enjolras. I’m Grantaire.”
They sat down again.
Enjolras cleared his throat. Something about Grantaire threw him off balance, and he didn’t like that feeling.
“So have you done this sort of thing before?”
Grantaire barked out a laugh. “No. I wrote that mainly as a joke. I’m surprised someone responded.”
Oh. “So you’re not going to come to my family’s Thanksgiving.”
“That’s not what I said,” Grantaire leaned back in his stool, grinning. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be crazy or desperate enough to respond.”
“That’s me. Crazy and desperate,” Enjolras muttered.
Grantaire was staring, and it did nothing to help Enjolras ground himself.
“Look,” Enjolras sighed, because maybe Grantaire actually thought he was crazy and desperate. “I wouldn’t even be going to this stupid dinner, except my sister asked me. Well, she’s my half-sister. Our dad pretended she didn’t exist for years, until it was convenient to acknowledge her. Now he’s trying to act like we’re one big happy family just when his election campaign is starting.”
“And you’d like to stop him.’
“I know something Cosette doesn’t, which is that this dinner is all for show. Father is using it to test the waters while he’s among family and close friends. It’s nothing new. He’s used me for years as a political prop, and now he wants to use my sister. I think this dinner is a good opportunity to show him what a bad idea that would be to continue.”
Grantaire raised his eyebrows and whistled. Enjolras felt his cheeks flush. He was being judged, and he didn’t like it.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
“You will?” Enjolras could hardly believe his ears.
“Yes, for two reasons. One, your dad sounds like a rich snob and rich snobs have really good food.”
“And the other reason?”
This earned him another smirk. “You’re intense and kind of terrifying. I am positive you’re going to ruin this dinner one way or another, and I’m a little afraid of what you’ll do if I don’t help.”
Enjolras wasn’t sure how to take that.
"Right, well...." he cleared his throat. "My dad is a rich snob. His name is Felix Tholomyes, in case you want to research him."
"Why would I want to do that?"
"Well, one of your advertised services was instigating an argument based on politics or religion. It might help."
"It might," Grantaire agreed, nodding. "My style is more winging it. So let me ask you something: Enjolras."
"Yes."
"No, but I mean, that's obviously not your first name, otherwise your dad really is a dick."
"It's my last name. I like it more than my first name."
"But your dad's surname is Tholomyes."
"It was my mother's maiden name," Enjolras said shortly.
Something passed between them for a second, and Enjolras feared he had given away too much with that one sentence. But Grantaire gave a nod, and said, "Okay. So let's talk about how you want me to piss off your dad."
It was impossible to keep up with Grantaire. He was too mercurial for Enjolras to try to predict or understand. He sighed. Perhaps he was in over his head.
“Let’s start easy,” Grantaire said kindly, at last taking pity. “I can play anywhere from 20-29. Do you have a preferred age?”
“Um,” Enjolras swallowed. “29. 29 for sure.”
“I thought so,” Grantaire nodded, scribbling something down on a napkin. “You look like you’re about 17 yourself, so dating a 20 year old wouldn’t really be that shocking.”
“I’m 22,” Enjolras said stiffly. People always assumed he was a teenager, and it got grating after a while.
“Really?” Grantaire said in a would-be-casual voice. “Interesting. Okay, so you’re not, like….”
He trailed off.
“Not like what exactly?”
“A child or anything.”
“No, I’m not a child.” Enjolras snapped.
“Good. That’s good.”
Enjolras didn’t know why it made a difference, it’s not like they would actually be doing anything, but he decided to let it slide. His annoyance emboldened him. “Now that that’s settled, perhaps we could discuss the other terms of the arrangement.”
***
They arrived late.
Almost an hour late. In the awful, awful van Grantaire had promised.
“I didn’t think you actually had an Eddie Van Halen guitar van.”
“What?” Grantaire shouted. Enjolras winced. Grantaire turned down the heavy metal music he had been blasting. “Sorry. What?”
“Nothing,” Enjolras said. “Are you ready?”
“I was born ready,” was Grantaire’s cheeky response. At Enjolras’s unimpressed look, he quickly added. “And I prepared.”
It took Enjolras a second to understand what Grantaire was referring to. “You actually researched my dad?”
There was something about Grantaire’s smile that Enjolras didn’t understand. “I did,” he leaned forward. “I researched you too.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“And?”
Grantaire was smirking now. “And what?”
Enjolras wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking. “Nothing.”
“You’re not what I would expect the son of a Congressional candidate to be,” Grantaire said. “But after meeting you, I shouldn’t have been surprised.”
Enjolras had no idea if that was a compliment or not.
“We should get going.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed over Grantaire’s face, and Enjolras had a feeling his response wasn’t the one Grantaire wanted. But before he could comment on this, Grantaire hopped out of the van, and raced over to Enjolras’s side to open his door for him. He signaled for Enjolras to wait in his seat.
“How do I look?” Grantaire asked, opening his arms to doing a little twirl.
Enjolras tilted his head as he examined him: the baggy jeans, the ratty hoodie, the scuffed up sneakers.
“Good, just…” he leaned forward and mussed up Grantaire’s hair a little bit more. Grantaire stilled.
For a moment, neither of them said anything or moved. Enjolras just stood face to face with Grantaire, his fingers still entwined in Grantaire’s hair. He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Sorry.”
Grantaire just laughed. “Save some for the party, eh?”
“Right.”
They shuffled down the driveway. As soon as he knocked, the door flew open, and Cosette lunged out and wrapped up Enjolras in a constricting hug.
“There you are! You’re late.”
“Car troubles,” Enjolras mumbled.
Cosette pried herself off, to look at the vehicle in question. Her eyes widened.
“That’s yours?”
“No, it’s mine,” Grantaire said, stepping forward. “But I’m his, so I guess it’s kind of his too.”
Cosette’s eyes widened as Grantaire leaned in to kiss both her cheeks.
“Oh!” Cosette looked at Grantaire, then at Enjolras, then at Grantaire again. “Enjolras you didn’t say you were bringing a guest.”
“Didn’t I?” Enjolras said innocently.
“Did you tell Father?”
Enjolras shrugged.
“Tell me what?” Felix said, appearing in the foyer.
“That I brought my boyfriend, Grantaire,” Enjolras said.
Felix gave Grantaire a once-over. His lip curled in thinly concealed distaste. “Enjolras never mentioned you,” was his cordial greeting. As if Enjolras told his father anything important.
Grantaire just beamed in response. “We just started dating a month ago.”
The tension in Felix’s shoulders loosened a bit, and Enjolras knew exactly what he was thinking, the thought that comforted him in this troubling time.
“We haven’t been dating long, but we’re very serious,” Enjolras declared, flinging his arms around Grantaire and planting a kiss on his cheek.
Felix stared in horror when Enjolras didn’t release Grantaire, but instead snuggled up against him, nuzzling against his neck.
“For God’s sake, Enjolras!” Felix hissed. “Get inside and talk to the other guests.”
He stalked off ahead. Cosette cast an uncertain look between father and son.
“We’d better go,” she said, leading them to the living room where hors d’oeuvres were being served.
Enjolras and Grantaire followed at a slow shuffle. Just before they went in, Enjolras was struck by inspiration.
“Hey, grab my ass.”
Grantaire stared at him. “What?”’
“Grab my ass,” Enjolras hissed.
“Uh…” Grantaire gingerly placed his hand on Enjolras’s butt.
Enjolras scooted closer to him. “Can you please act like you don’t completely hate this?”
“Hmmm?” Grantaire said, sounding slightly strangled.
“Forget it,” Enjolras muttered, heading to the door. “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. That was unfair.”
He edged past Grantaire when suddenly he felt a pair of hands on his hips, Grantaire was kissing him senseless, and they stumbled through the door together. The quiet murmur of polite conversation stopped abruptly. Enjolras pried his face away from Grantaire’s and saw everyone staring at them. All 40 of his closest relatives and various friends of the family.
Grantaire grinned sheepishly at them. “Hi Enjolras’s family.”
Felix looked murderous. Cosette beamed, like she thought her brother being groped in front of the family was the cutest thing she had ever seen. Grantaire then wrapped an arm possessively around Enjolras’s waist.
“Is this okay?” he murmured in Enjolras’s ear.
Enjolras nodded. Considering he had literally just asked Grantaire to grab his butt about ten seconds ago, he was surprised Grantaire felt the need to ask.
“Antoine?” Enjolras’s aunt Marie was eyeing Grantaire apprehensively. “Are you going to introduce us to you….person?”
“I told you, Aunt Marie, I prefer to go by Enjolras,” Enjolras said through gritted teeth.
“Are you still doing that?” Marie huffed. “I thought you were past that rebellious phase.”
“He doesn’t always object to being called Antoine. We reserve that for the bedroom. Well, assuming we make it that far, if you know what I mean,” Grantaire said. He extended his hand. “I’m Grantaire. I also go by R, as in Grand-R. It’s not the only thing about me that’s grand. Let me know if you ever want to find out more firsthand.”
Marie looked scandalized as Grantaire reached into his pocket and took out a flask (that Enjolras knew was filled with apple juice) and toasted to her before gulping some down. She shot a look at Enjolras, who was trying not to laugh.
“Shall we go meet the rest of the family, sweetheart?” Enjolras said, wildly casting about his mind for a petname. ‘Sweetheart’ seemed like a safe, classic bet.
“Well, if they’re all as hot as Marie, then definitely,” Grantaire said.
“Isn’t he sweet?” Enjolras said to a bewildered Marie. “Let’s go meet my cousins.”
It turned out Grantaire had a never ending supply of pickup lines that he applied to not only Enjolras’s cousins (both male and female), his uncle, his aunt, his second cousin, his grandmother, and his dad’s suspiciously younger date, Lauren.
“So are those real tattoos?” asked Lauren, eyeing the colorful drawings going up and down Grantaire’s arm.
“Yes,” Grantaire lied. They were Sharpie drawings. “I got them while I was in prison.”
The prison part was true. Grantaire had done a few years, although he hadn’t told Enjolras what for and Enjolras hadn’t asked. But he didn’t get any tattoos done in prison- he hated needles, apparently.
Grantaire leaned forward. “You know, I have more tattoos.”
“Do you?” Lauren asked.
“Yeah. But not anything you can see right now. I can show you later,” Grantaire said, waggling his eyebrows. “I’ll show you mine, you show me yours.”
“I don’t…have any tattoos,” Lauren said.
“Well, we can think of something else you can show me.”
Lauren glanced at Enjolras, probably to gauge how offended she should be, but Enjolras just nodded amiably. “They’re very nice tattoos. They’re worth seeing.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Now if you’ll excuse me,” Lauren said, squeezing past them.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Enjolras glanced at his watch. “Two minutes and thirty seconds. Not your best.”
“Not my worst,” Grantaire pointed out.
“No,” Enjolras said, thinking back to their meeting with his grandmother. It had taken them ten minutes to get rid of her. She seemed worryingly into Grantaire’s attentions.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to protect me from her later,” Grantaire said.
Enjolras laughed, burying his head in Grantaire’s shoulder. For a second, Grantaire stiffened, but he relaxed into it, and wrapped his arm around Enjolras, giving a chuckle too. Despite all the odds, Enjolras was actually having fun at a family function. It was a first, and probably a last. He should probably feel bad that he was having such a good time at the expense at everyone else’s enjoyment, but really, it was payback, so he didn’t actually care.
“Don’t worry,” Enjolras said, looking up, meeting Grantaire’s eyes. “I will protect you from any of my relatives who decide to get handsy.”
“Whoa, who said anything about handsy?” Grantaire said. “I meant when they tried to corner me and talk to me. I didn’t sign up for handsy. I’m out.”
“Oh,” Enjolras pulled away, feeling his heart sink. Grantaire rolled his eyes and drew his arms tighter around Enjolras.
“I was joking. I’m not abandoning you, okay?”
“Okay.”
He knew Grantaire meant just for tonight, which made him strangely disappointed. It was weird that he wouldn’t see Grantaire again after this, but that was the deal. Grantaire had made his boundaries very clear, this was strictly platonic, and Enjolras couldn’t imagine Grantaire would want to be friends and just hang out. He probably thought Enjolras was just as bad as his family. But it was nice to have him there, just for one evening at least.
“A-hem.”
They pulled apart to see Cosette smirking at them as the rest of the guests filtered out.
“Were the two of you planning to join the rest of us for dinner, or should we leave you two here?”
“Enjolras!” Felix snapped from the doorway.
Grantaire slipped his hand in Enjolras’s, and Enjolras felt a rush of gratitude towards him. “Come on. Thanksgiving dinner. It’s my favorite meal.”
They managed to sit next to each other, despite Felix’s best efforts. He steered Enjolras to sit by him at the head of the table. In another family, this might be because he loved his son and wanted to be close to him. In Enjolras’s family, it was because he wanted to be able to keep a careful eye on him. The seat on Enjolras’s other side had one of his father’s friend, but Grantaire just stared him down, absently mindedly stroking his ‘prison tattoos’ until the man moved. Grantaire plopped down next to Enjolras triumphantly.
Felix glared at both of them before addressing the table as a whole. “Shall we say grace?”
Everyone linked hands. To Enjolras’s surprise, Grantaire took his hand, and the hand of the person on his other side (Felix’s business partner). He was even silent as Felix droned on with what had to be the longest grace in history. When they were done, almost everyone said ‘Amen’. Enjolras had refused to say it since he was aware of the problems with organized religion. And Grantaire….Grantaire took out his flask, said, “Cheers”, and drank deeply.
“That’s not the appropriate thing to say at the end of grace,” Felix said through gritted teeth.
“Oh. Sorry,” Grantaire said, looking anything but. “I’m not Christian, so I don’t really know all the ins and outs.”
Felix squinted suspiciously at him. “Atheist?”
“Of course not. Pastafarian.”
There were many blank stares.
“Pasta-what?” Uncle Frank asked flatly.
“Pastafarian,” Grantaire replied, cheerfully helping himself to mashed potatoes. “I belong to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.”
He continued to ply on the potatoes as the table sat in uncomfortable silence. Grantaire paid no mind. He picked up the gravy bowl next to him, dipped his fingers in it, and licked off the gravy. Apparently satisfied, he proceeded to drown his potatoes in the gravy. Finally, he looked up at all the expectant faces.
“You’ve never heard of it? I’m surprised. Well, we believe the universe was created by the Flying Spaghetti Monster. He was really drunk when he got around to creation, so that’s why the world is so fucked up. Although we certainly haven’t helped matters, what with the decline of pirates.”
“Pirates?” Cosette ventured politely when it became clear no one else was going to say anything.
“Yes, pirates. They’re divine beings. Global warming and other natural disasters have been on the rise since the 1800s, which is around the same time we saw a massive decrease in pirates. Coincidence? I think not.”
“Is that a joke?” asked cousin Luke.
Grantaire banged his fist on the table. “How dare you.”
Enjolras placed his hand on Grantaire’s and rubbed it soothingly. “He didn’t mean it. Calm down, babe.”
After a shaky breath or two, Grantaire nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You know I’m still working through my anger issues.”
“He’s going to a therapist recommended by his parole officer,” Enjolras told the horrified table proudly.
“You know,” Grantaire said to Luke. “I think your Jesus and our Flying Spaghetti Monster would get along. After all, in our Heaven, we get a beer volcano and a stripper factory. Jesus drank lots of wine and hung out with prostitutes. They would totally be bros. If Jesus could see Him, that is. The Flying Spaghetti Monster is after all invisible and undetectable.”
Felix looked like his head was about to explode. Cosette was squinting at Grantaire, and Enjolras could practically see the gears in her brain whirling, which probably wasn’t a good thing. She caught Enjolras watching her, and raised her eyebrows in a slight grimace.
“Dad, why don’t you start cutting the turkey?” she asked sweetly.
Personally, Enjolras didn’t think encouraging Felix to hold a sharp object was advisable, but he was glad for the interruption. Things were escalating faster than he had anticipated. He and Grantaire had agreed: Grantaire would act increasingly drunk then propose to Enjolras after dinner, which would infuriate Felix. Felix and Grantaire would get in a fight, which would spill onto the lawn. Enjolras would steal a couple of pies for dessert which they would eat as they triumphantly drove away.
The temporary food-induced truce didn’t last long. No sooner had Felix finished his first plate than he turned to Enjolras.
“So, Enjolras, are you still interning with that idiot?” Felix asked loudly.
The conversation at the table stilled.
“Senator Lamarque is hardly an idiot,” Enjolras said.
“Have you seen his policies? He’s a crazy, liberal ex-hippie, if you ask me,” Felix said, earning chuckles from around the table.
“He is a member of Congress though,” Enjolras said, stabbing his piece of turkey vindictively. “Which is more than you can say.”
Somewhere under the table, Cosette kicked him, but Enjolras hardly cared. Lamarque had been more of a father to him in many ways than Felix had, and he couldn’t sit there and listen to him be ridiculed by these awful hypocrites who had made his formative years so miserable.
“We’ll see who’s laughing in the end,” Felix said. “But since you brought it up, I do want to talk to you and Cosette after dinner about the campaign. Just the three of us,” he added, shooting Grantaire a rather nasty look.
Enjolras glanced over at Grantaire, almost expecting some kind of joke to be halfway out his mouth, but to his surprise, Grantaire was giving Felix an appraising look. He didn’t seem to be impressed with what he found.
“I’d rather not get involved with your campaign,” Enjolras said. “Since you will be running against my boss. It’s rather awkward.”
“Enjolras!” Aunt Marie said. “Of course you and Cosette will help your father with whatever he needs. Someone has to turn the country around.”
“And that person is him?” Grantaire nodded dismissively towards Felix.
“Can we save the shop talk for later?” Cosette pleaded.
“Fine. But we will talk later.” It sounded less like a concession and more like a threat.
“I said no,” Enjolras firmly. He didn’t want his father’s guests to be under the impression this was up for negotiation. He was going to make his position clear so no one could accuse him of making false promises later on.
Felix’s face contorted. “Don’t talk back to me, you ungrateful brat. I’m your father. You will do what I say.”
“Actually, I won’t.” Felix had absolutely no leverage. Enjolras’s college was paid for through a combination of his maternal grandparents’ generosity and academic scholarships. And his mother had had the foresight to set up a trust fund for him that Felix couldn’t touch, so Felix had no financial power over him, a fact Enjolras was eternally grateful for. And it wasn’t as if he felt any filial loyalty to the man. Even his love for Cosette wasn’t enough to get him to violate his principles.
“Antoine,” said Aunt Marie severely. “You need to respect your father more.”
“I’m just being honest.”
“You’re being difficult, as usual,” Felix said, rising to loom over Enjolras. Enjolras just cut his green beans. He knew ignoring Felix when he was angry was a sure fire way of pissing him off, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting.
Grantaire shot Enjolras a concerned look, but Enjolras shrugged it off. “Don’t worry. This is downright friendly for him.”
His attempt at flippancy only deepened the worried crease in Grantaire’s brow. His expression darkened, and he glared at Felix.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, you little shit,” Felix said, grabbing Enjolras’s shoulder and roughly turning him.
What happened next happened so fast, Enjolras was only aware of a blur to his side. He blinked, and Grantaire went from being seated at his side, to standing up and punching Felix right in the nose. Felix doubled over, clutching his face.
“Don’t you dare talk to him like that,” Grantaire, said, clenching his fist even tighter.
Several of Felix’s friends and Enjolras’s uncles stood up, posturing, but ultimately not making a move to actually help or get in between Grantaire and Felix. Felix for his part wiped away the blood from his nose and shoved Grantaire who didn’t hesitate before shoving back.
It only escalated from there. Luckily Felix wasn’t a particularly good fighter, since he usually had people do his dirty work for him. He swung and missed more often than landing any actual hits. Grantaire easily dodged, and landed a few strikes of his own. None of his hits had any of the force or anger of his first punch, but they would still probably smart.
Just as they had talked about, Grantaire was guiding the fight so it would inevitably end up on the lawn, a spectacle for all the neighbors to witness. He deftly dodged and weaved away from Felix, luring him down the fight. Felix didn’t seem to realize what happened until he lunged out the door in an effort to tackle Grantaire. Grantaire easily dodged, leaving Felix a huffing heap on the ground.
The Tholomyes clan and their guests spilled out after them. Neighbors were peering out their windows, and the bravest (and nosiest) stood on their porches to witness the spectacle.
“You know, I had some reservations about you,” Felix spat from his position on the ground. “But now I realize you and my son deserve each other.”
“Did you hear that, sweetie?” Grantaire said, dropping to one knee in front of Enjolras. “I came here to get your father’s blessing, and it looks like I got it. I can’t afford a ring or anything, but Enjolras, will you marry me?”
Enjolras stared at him. He didn’t care about his and Grantaire’s stupid arrangement any more, he cared that a bruise was forming on Grantaire’s cheek, and this wasn’t fun if Grantaire was actually hurt.
“Grantaire,” Enjolras said in a pained tone.
“Come on, babe,” Grantaire said loudly for their audience. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
He raised his eyebrows, giving Enjolras permission to continue the charade. But Enjolras found he couldn’t say ‘yes’. He was too distressed at everything Grantaire had just done for him. Still, to not respond at all felt like ungrateful, so he swooped forward and captured Grantaire’s lips with his own. Grantaire’s earnest expression had probably been meant to reassure Enjolras, but it just made him feel guilty.
There was a loud thump. Aunt Marie had fainted.
***
“Sooo…..” Courfeyrac tossed his laptop on Enjolras’s stomach.
Enjolras was sprawled on his bed, miserable. He had done this a lot since coming back from Thanksgiving. While everyone was busy tending to the unconscious Marie, Enjolras and Grantaire had made their escape. They didn’t say much during the ride. Enjolras had tried to apologize, but Grantaire waved that off, just as he did Enjolras’s thanks.
(“I was in it for the food,” he had said.
“Still…you went above and beyond,” Enjolras had replied.
Grantaire pulled up to Enjolras’s street. With nothing else to say, Enjolras climbed out. Grantaire rolled down the window. “Hey. Just so you know, he doesn’t deserve you as a son. You’re pretty incredible.”
And then he drove away, leaving Enjolras feeling both better and worse.)
“Oww,” Enjolras moaned. “What the hell was that?”
“Well, in the movies, they always transition to a new scene with someone throwing a newspaper dramatically to make a point.”
Enjolras set Courfeyrac’s laptop next to him on his bed and sat up. “Then throw a newspaper.”
“This is 2015, Enjolras, no one has newspapers anymore.”
“You have an iPad,” Combeferre pointed out from the doorway.
“Oh yeah,” Courfeyrac rubbed Enjolras’s stomach. “Sorry.”
Enjolras swatted his hand away, because really, Courfeyrac had a tendency to treat him like an overgrown cat as it was, and his stomach didn’t hurt that much. One look at the laptop screen, and he saw several articles pulled up covering the scuffle from Thanksgiving.
“Ah.”
“Yes,” Combeferre said, sternly. He pulled up Enjolras’s chair and sat at it, surveying Enjolras. “’Ah’.”
“I didn’t break my promise,” Enjolras said childishly. “I didn’t invite Grantaire to my house, I invited him to my father’s house.”
“Oooooh, Grantaire,” Courfeyrac said gleefully. “So his name is Grantaire? Interesting. None of the papers could find any information on him. They didn’t even get any pictures of him.”
“That’s me,” Cosette said, striding briskly in the room. “No one started taking pictures really until you and Grantaire left. I convinced the few who did manage to get a shot of him to delete him. And I convinced Felix not to press charges, and keep Grantaire’s name out of the paper.”
“How did you manage that?” Enjolras asked, amazed as Cosette plopped down beside him.
“I’m very persuasive,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “That, and I said he would keep you, Grantaire, and me out of the press, or I’d start telling everyone the real story about what happened with my mother. We made a deal. Felix is going to say he wants to keep us out of the spotlight for our sake, so he looks like a good dad, and we don’t have to campaign with him. After the way he talked to you, even if you were provoking him…. I’m done. I think I was lying to myself about the kind of person he was because I so wanted to know my biological father. But now, I can’t lie to myself anymore and I’m done.”
“Oh,” Enjolras said, wondering what that meant for his and Cosette’s relationship.
“I’m not done with you, you dork,” she said, nudging him. “If I were, would I have worked so hard to protect your boyfriend? Starting a fight with a Congressional candidate isn’t really a good thing for an ex-convict.”
“Thank you,” Enjolras said sincerely, silently shuddering at what such a story could have done to Grantaire. He should have thought of that before.
“So he really was an ex-convict? Tell me everything,” Courfeyrac said eagerly just as Combeferre said reprovingly, “Oh for God’s sake, Enjolras.”
“Don’t judge people based on their criminal history,” Cosette said, throwing a pillow at Combeferre.
“I’m not. I’m judging Enjolras for meeting random people from the internet without getting to know them.”
“Ohhh. The internet. I knew Grantaire seemed too terrible to be true,” Cosette said.
“I got to know Grantaire,” Enjolras said defensively.
Combeferre raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, I got to know Grantaire after I met him in person,” Enjolras amended. “But he wasn’t dangerous. He was….nice.”
Combeferre groaned in a dramatic manner Enjolras usually expected Courfeyrac. “Go talk to him.”
“What?”
“You like him,” Combeferre said, pointing an accusatory finger at Enjolras. “Because of course the first person you’ve expressed a romantic interest in in years is the random guy you met on Craigslist who punched your dad in your face. I would like to spare all of us weeks of obsessing and overanalyzing everything, and tell you, yes, Enjolras, you do like him, and yes, you should go to talk to him, before he gets in a fight with someone else’s dad and they fall in love with him too.”
Cosette and Courfeyrac nodded.
“But,” Enjolras swallowed. “I don’t even have his phone number. All I have is the Craigslist email, which has been deactivated. And even if I could find him, I doubt he’d want to talk to me.”
“Are you kidding me? He punched Felix in the face because he insulted you,” Cosette said.
“He punched Felix in the face because we agreed beforehand that he would start a fight.”
Both Combeferre and Cosette face-palmed.
“Oh my god,” Cosette said. “I can’t believe you...whatever. The point is I watched the two of you, and I saw the way he looked at you, and trust me when I say he’d definitely want to talk to you again.”
“Even if that’s true, I still don’t know how to find him.”
“Well you won’t find him with that attitude,” Courfeyrac said, squeezing Enjolras’s face. “Now come on, we have work to do.”
***
“Jesus Christ.”
Enjolras looked up from where he had been texting Combeferre and Courfeyrac to see Grantaire staring at him like he had seen a ghost.
“Don’t you mean Flying Spaghetti Monster?”
That roused Grantaire out of his shock. “Is there a particular reason you’re camped outside my work with a picnic basket in the freezing cold?” Grantaire paused. “How do you even know where I work?”
“You told me?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Enjolras blushed. “Okay, don’t be mad. You said you worked late nights at a bar, so my friends and I called almost every bar in the city, asking if they had a Grantaire who worked the night shift.”
Grantaire was still staring at him, in that peculiar way of his, like he wasn’t sure if Enjolras was real or not.
“Look, I’m sorry. I overstepped, and I invaded your privacy. But I wanted to apologize for the other night-”
“I told you, that’s not necessary.”
“But I still want to. I’m sorry. You had a shitty Thanksgiving, thanks to me, and you didn’t even get a proper meal out of it. I figured the least I could do was give you a do-over meal.”
“It wasn’t all that bad.”
Enjolras tilted his head, trying to figure out how their evening could possibly be construed as not all that bad. Grantaire snorted.
“You think too much.”
He sounded...fond. Which threw Enjolras off, even though it was probably a good thing.
“I brought you food,” Enjolras said, to break the silence. He didn’t know what to do with the gentle look Grantaire was giving him, so he held up his basket.
“What kind of food?” Grantaire took a step closer.
“Thanksgiving food,” Enjolras said. “I kind of...coerced my friends into helping me make it because I’m useless in the kitchen. But you said it was your favorite, and you didn’t get to properly enjoy it before, so I thought I owed you at least this.”
“We didn’t even get pie. Because someone was supposed to grab some when I was fighting their dad but they forgot.”
Enjolras sputtered indignantly. “I was concerned about you! I didn’t expect the fight to be so-”
“Violent?” Grantaire supplied with a smirk.
Okay, yeah, that was a stupid thing to say. Enjolras was no stranger to violence himself, having been involved in a few protests-turned-riots. Still….”You didn’t have to go through all that trouble is all. It was above and beyond what we agreed to, and you really shouldn’t have.”
Grantaire’s face softened. “I know I didn’t have to. I didn’t like how he was talking to you. Maybe I shouldn’t have, because violence is wrong and all that, but no one should have their dad talk to them that way. Especially someone as amazing as you.”
Enjolras’s eyes widened at that. Out of all the outcomes of the evening, he really had only been hoping Grantaire didn’t hate him.
“Anyway, I lost it,” Grantaire said. “And I hope you can forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Enjolras said, still trying to adjust. This conversation was not going at all how he had imagined it in his head.
“Good,” Grantaire said. “Now, I happen to have a lovely meal here that I couldn’t possibly eat all by myself. I just got off work and my apartment is a few blocks away. Would you care to join me?”
Enjolras nodded happily. Grantaire hesitated, then held out his hand for Enjolras to take. Enjolras didn’t even hesitate as they walked back to Grantaire’s apartment. The walk went by quickly, and soon, they were standing in Grantaire’s tiny studio apartment. Grantaire insisted Enjolras wasn’t allowed to lift a finger to help as he laid out the food, picnic style on the ground.
As they sat down together, Enjolras considered how very lucky it was that he met Grantaire, and how much he enjoyed his company and how he wanted to continue to enjoy his company. And once he was able to identify this want, he had to spring into action.
“Grantaire, what are you doing for Christmas?”
Grantaire choked on piece of turkey he was chewing. Enjolras thumped him on the back.
“W-what?” Grantaire said, his voice hoarse.
“I wanted to know if you’d like to spend it with me,” Enjolras said. Grantaire looked suddenly wary. “Oh, no, not with my family.” He hastened to add.
“Oh thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster,” Grantaire muttered. “I mean, I had fun pissing them off, but except for Cosette, they’re assholes, and I don’t drink anymore.”
“Well, I was wondering if you’d like to spend Christmas with me, and some of my friends. I could maybe introduce you as my boyfriend,” Enjolras said seriously.
Grantaire busted out laughing. “That’s such a weird way to ask someone out. Most people would start with drinks-”
“Your Craigslist add said you didn’t drink anymore,” Enjolras said immediately.
“You could have asked me to dinner.”
“But we’re eating dinner,” Enjolras pointed out, pouting. Grantaire was still laughing at him. Maybe he had a point. “Would you like to go out for dinner again?”
Grantaire scooted closer. “Yes, to dinner again. Yes to Christmas. Can I kiss you know?”
“Yes.”
Grantaire did.