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“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Courfeyrac yells into Grantaire’s ear, and Grantaire bolts up in bed to Courfeyrac’s cackling, swearing, because this is the first night in a week he’s been able to sleep so soundly, and fucking hell, he hates Courfeyrac and this Vine war they have going on so much right now.
Enjolras shifts beside him, and pops out from under the duvet. “What’s going on?” he mumbles sleepily, and fuck, fuck.
Grantaire really should’ve locked the door.
“Oh my God,” Courfeyrac says, eyes wide, phone still trained at them. “Oh my God.”
Grantaire glares at him, puts the force of his hatred for Courfeyrac for waking them up at four o’clock in the fucking morning, and then turns to push Enjolras back down to a horizontal position.
“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, and then presses his lips to Enjolras’ hairline.
“Oh my God,” Courfeyrac says again, when Enjolras doesn’t protest, and just closes his eyes.
“If you tell anyone about this,” Grantaire tells Courfeyrac, “I will pee on all your food.”
Courfeyrac snorts. “You’re the one eating my food half the time.”
“Seriously, Courf,” Grantaire says, and Courfeyrac stops looking at Enjolras like he’s expecting Enjolras to be an optical illusion to meet Grantaire’s eyes. “This doesn’t go on the Internet. And you can’t tell anyone about this.”
“I wouldn’t,” Courfeyrac says. “You know I wouldn’t.”
Grantaire nods. “Now get the fuck out of my room and turn the fucking lights off before you wake him up again,” he tells Courfeyrac, but he’s smiling a little at Courfeyrac to soften the bite of his words, because while he hadn’t meant for this to happen, he can’t deny that it’s good to have someone know about his thing with Enjolras.
Courfeyrac skips out of his room, flicking the light switch out on his way, and Grantaire smiles when he hears Courfeyrac giggling outside.
Enjolras curls into him when he settles back into bed.
“I’m sorry about Courfeyrac,” Grantaire says, because it’s obvious from Enjolras’ breathing that he hasn’t already fallen asleep. Enjolras tenses up against him, and Grantaire doesn’t know what to do except to keep talking. “He’s been trying to get me back for switching out his water with vinegar for a few days now. I probably shouldn’t have believed him when he said that he wasn’t going to be back tonight.”
Enjolras is quiet, his body tense against Grantaire’s.
“Sorry,” Grantaire says again, softer this time, because he is, he really is. He knows how secretive about this, about them, Enjolras is, and he knows that it probably looks like he orchestrated Courfeyrac catching them, but he would never do that to Enjolras.
They spend all their time in Enjolras’ apartment, and sure, the privacy is a plus, they never have to worry about anyone walking in on them because Enjolras lives alone, but Grantaire’d really wanted Enjolras to spend the night at his place instead for once.
“Why don’t you want to tell anyone about us?” Enjolras asks.
Grantaire blinks. “Sorry, what?”
“It’s not that I- I’m not trying to push you into anything,” Enjolras says, and he’s turning over to face Grantaire now, face serious even in the dark. “I just want to know why. You can’t possibly think that they won’t be happy for us.”
“I-” Grantaire blinks again, tries to process the information he is getting. “What.”
“Are you…ashamed of being with me?” Enjolras asks quietly, reaching out to press a hand to Grantaire’s chest, and Grantaire jerks back so hard at the suggestion that he almost falls off the bed.
“I’m not,” he tells Enjolras firmly. “Of course I’m not ashamed to be with you, fucking hell. Why would I be- What the fuck?”
Enjolras’ voice is still quiet when he says, “Then why wouldn’t you want to tell anyone?”
“Why wouldn’t I want to-” He sits up, lets out a sharp exhale, and goes to switch the lights on because they can’t have this conversation in the dark. He thinks about joining Enjolras back in bed, but settles for leaning against the wall instead. “What are we doing, Enjolras?”
“What do you mean?” Enjolras asks.
“I mean this.” Grantaire gestures vaguely between them. “Us. What are we doing?”
“We’re…dating,” Enjolras says, sitting up, leaning against the headboard. A look of uncertainty flashes pass his face. “Aren’t we?”
“We are,” Grantaire says, except that he couldn’t have told anyone that with certainty five minutes ago. Five minutes ago, he definitely didn’t think they were dating. “Fuck,” he breathes out, and then rejoins Enjolras in bed. “Fuck, I messed up.”
Enjolras frowns. “What?”
“I thought-” Grantaire starts, and then trails off, at a loss for words. He scrubs his hand over his face. “I didn’t think we were. Dating, that is,” he confesses a moment later. “I though you’d want this thing between us to just, I don’t know, stay between us. You never said anything.”
Enjolras reaches out to lace their fingers tightly together. “You didn’t either,” he points out. “I don’t understand. That meeting we had the day after we started being together-” he flushes as he says that, and Grantaire knows that he must be thinking about being pinned against the wall and getting fucked within an inch of his life. “You just went on as usual. You didn’t acknowledge what was going on between us, and I assumed that you would rather people not know.”
“Oh,” Grantaire says. “I- I was waiting for you to say something. And when you didn’t, I just…ran with it, I suppose?” He shuffles closer to Enjolras, leans his head against Enjolras’ shoulder. “I was just- Really happy it was happening that it didn’t occur to me to want anything more, just in case it wasn’t something you wanted to? I don’t think I would’ve minded, if you’d never wanted to tell anyone about us.”
Enjolras’ fingers tighten around Grantaire’s, and he brings their joined hands up to press a kiss to the back of Grantaire’s palm. “It was pretty much the same for me,” he tells Grantaire. “I didn’t want to push you into anything, but when you told Courfeyrac not to tell anyone… It stung a little.”
“I’m not ashamed to be with you,” Grantaire is quick to reassure him. “That’s the most ridiculous thought.” He turns his head to kiss Enjolras’ shoulder softly. “You’re wonderful, and if you’re okay with everyone knowing about us, I’d scream it off rooftops.”
Enjolras is blushing when Grantaire looks up at him.
“You don’t have to scream it off rooftops,” Enjolras says, lips quirking up. “It’s just pass four in the morning, and I think your neighbours might take issue with it.”
“Fuck the neighbours,” Grantaire says.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Enjolras tells him. “I’m willing to offer myself as a substitute, though.”
Grantaire laughs at that, and then leans in to kiss Enjolras. He pulls away rather abruptly just as the kiss is heating up, though.
“There is another way,” he tells Enjolras, eyes bright. “Of screaming it off rooftops without the worry of getting a noise complaint?”
“Later,” Enjolras tells him, and pulls him back into a kiss.
—
Courfeyrac’s Vine is an instant Internet sensation, and Enjolras pretends to scowl about it, but he’s holding Grantaire’s hand throughout the entire Les Amis meeting, so Grantaire figures that they’re fine.