Chapter Text
Grantaire had passed his teaching degree three years ago, and he the three years of school placement during it had given him many years of Parents Evening practice, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of hosting another one. He was fucking terrified. It also didn't help that Feuilly, that ginger bastard, was an oasis of calm beside him, radiating smugness across his classroom.
“You know I hate you.” He grumbled, taking a sip of his now cold coffee.
“No you don't.” Feuilly shuffled the papers on their desk, waiting for parents to arrive. “If you hated me, I wouldn't be here. I know what happened to your last teaching assistant. And what you did to get her to leave.”
Grantaire shot Feuilly a heated look. “Nothing you can prove.”
“So she happened to lose three children on a school trip, you miraculously located not ten minutes later?”
“Can I help if the kids wanted to look at the dinosaurs?” Grantaire teased, but he was smiling. “She was a judgmental bitch though, didn't agree with my ‘lifestyle’ and all that shit. I mean I'm a fucking delight. And I have a cat. Not a lot of lifestyle there to mock.”
“You mean other than the fact you’re the saltiest bisexual man I know?”
“You’ve met ‘Parnasse right?” Grantaire checked his watch, their first parent is already late. “I’m lightly salted compared to him.”
“’Taire, last time you took me out I watched you reduce a guy to tears because he wouldn’t stop hitting on Eponine when she’d clearly told him to back the fuck off.” Feuilly shook his head remembering the night.
“And then Eponine slapped me, because she didn’t need a man to fight her battles, so there is that.” Grantaire reminded him, as their first parent walked through the door looking frazzled, and apologising profusely for them being late. Grantaire smiled, gesturing to the seat across from him and Feuilly. “No problem, Feuilly and I were discussing unimportant stuff, and we usually have at least one no show, so. Anyway I’m Grantaire, but the children know me as Mr R, and this is Feuilly my teaching assistant. The kids call him Mr F. How can we help you?”
They made it through the rest of parents evening with only mild complaining about his teaching methods, one comment about his age, and a few weird looks from parents when he introduced himself and Feuilly. It was always fun to watch the single parents flirt with Feuilly, as everyone who ever hear the ginger man speak they instantly fell more than a little bit in love with him. But as always, he let them down gently, ever the professional. The mother of the child who Feuilly helped bring on his grade in English from a D to a solid B, brought them both wine and hugged him for way too long to be appropriate. He made a mental note to tease him about it later.
Grantaire loved talking about how each child had developed over the course of the year and how a once a quiet shy little mouse can be transformed into a roaring lion, if given the right nurturing, especially between the dream team of himself and Feuilly. And it disheartened him when the parents came in, and couldn’t see how amazing their child was, but would rather focus on the tests scores and not how their child excelled in the other things not measured by letters or numbers. Thankfully most of the parents in their class weren’t like that, just one or two.
Before either Grantaire and Feuilly knew it, the night was closing in on their last appointment of the night, Melody’s parents. Grantaire knew that she had two fathers, Gabriel Enjolras and Tomas Bahorel, and by the reputation they have with the rest of the staff in the school, they were a force to be reckoned with. They both worked in law, Bahorel worked in family practise, and Enjolras specialised in mostly corporate law, a formidable parenting team by any standard.
What the pair weren’t prepared for was the sight of the two men walking into the room together, because that was something both Grantaire and Feuilly needed to commit to memory. The two men cut quite a figure in the small classroom, the tall blonde with bright blue eyes dressed in a sharp grey suit, and a taller still tanned man with shoulder length hair tied up
Grantaire recognised the bright eyes of Melody in who he assumed was Bahorel, the broader of the two gentlemen with a warm smile. “Hi, I assume you two are Melody’s fathers?” he said as the two sat down in the spare seats opposite himself and Feuilly. “I’m Sebastian Grantaire, the children call me Mr R, and I usually go by Grantaire.”
“I’m Mathieu Feuilly.” Feuilly introduced himself, leaning across the desk to shake both their hands. “I usually go by my surname too. The children call me Mr F, as Feuilly can be a bit of a mouthful.”
“I bet it could be.” Bahorel quipped, before he could stop himself, earning a punch in the leg from Enjolras. “Sorry that was unprofessional.”
“What Bahorel meant to say,” Enjolras began, shooting Bahorel a pointed look. “Is that we’re glad you extended your hours for us to meet with you. Melody is very fond of the two of you, and speaks very highly of Mr R and Mr F. Its nice to finally put faces to the names, did you really dress up like an emperor for the week?”
Grantaire laughed, nodding his head. “It’s the third year that Feuilly and I have done it. Its became a classroom favourite. Feuilly always usurps me by the end of the week anyway. He gets to be emperor Feuilly for the whole school.”
“It is the highlight of my school year obviously.” Feuilly deadpanned, smiling at Bahorel. “I get to boss you around for twenty-four hours, and you can’t do anything about it. Especially since it’s the kids that cause the revolution. Overthrow the tyranny of your rule, R. Lord knows Gingers make better rulers.”
Grantaire raised his eyebrows at Feuilly’s words, that was the most he’d spoken unless directly addressed all evening. Weird. “If you say so, Feu.” He said, turning his attention to Enjolras opposite him. “We’re getting off of topic anyway, we all know that Feuilly is a brilliant emperor, but what we don’t know is what you would like to discuss at parents evening tonight. Melody is an excellent student, her grades are impressive and she’s in the top reading group of the class, what would you like to discuss?”
“Like you said, Melody is an excellent student.” Bahorel beamed at Grantaire. “I wanted to know if you’ve got anything bad to say about my little girl. We all know she’s an excellent student, I want to know when she’s not excellent. You’ve got to have some dirt on her Grantaire, the girl is too well behaved to be mine sometimes. I may be her Father, but she’s so much like Enjolras its scary at times.” Enjolras shoots Bahorel an irritated glare, which both Grantaire and Feuilly have seen too many times in their small classroom.
“I see what you mean.” Grantaire chuckled, shaking his head a little. “She breaks out that look more often than not, especially when she can’t get her merry bunch of friends to listen to her.
“That sounds so familiar Enj.” Bahorel teased, elbowing Enjolras in the side.
“She was also an advocate for my emperor-ship before all the other children.” Feuilly interjected, earning another smile from Bahorel. “Shouldn’t Mr F be in charge? Mr R can’t always be in charge, can he?”
“Tell that to him.” Bahorel chuckled, as Enjolras shot him another glare. “Nature vs Nurture is one thing that has always fascinated me. So Melody is a bit of a bossy boots….”
“The girl knows what she wants.” Enjolras offered, with a shrug of his shoulders. “I think the world needs more strong-willed women in the world. I don’t see why it should be a problem B.”
“Try telling your seven-year-old that when she’s refusing to go to bed.”
Grantaire and Feuilly exchanged an awkward look. It wasn’t the first time parents had started bickering in their classroom that evening. “Anyway…”
Enjolras seemed to remember his surroundings and blushed at Grantaire’s interruption. “I do apologise, but Nature vs Nurture is always a heated topic at home. I’m glad Melody is excelling at school. Being bossy is always a trait that women are pulled up against especially in later life, boys are only ever called ambitious. We’ve already taken up enough of your time this evening.” He glanced quickly at his watch. “It’s almost seven, ‘Rel. We best get back, you know Courf can’t get Mel’ to go to bed on time, the man is a sucker for her big brown eyes.”
“You are too!” Bahorel teased gathering his things together and holding out his hand to shake Grantaire’s. “Thank you for extending your office hours Mr Grantaire.”
“Call me R for the love of god.”
“Sorry R.” Bahorel grinned at him, before turning his attention to Feuilly. “And thanks Feuilly, my daughter really speaks highly of you. And to be honest I’ve been dying to meet you, especially from the way she described you.” He looked Feuilly up and down again, throwing him a wink. “I can see she and I have very similar taste in men, that may be a problem when she gets older…”
“’Rel!” Enjolras encouraged, noting Feuilly’s blush. “Can you reign it in a little so we can get home please?”
“Yes Dear!” Bahorel chirped, as he followed Enjolras out of the door leaving a very confused teacher and teaching assistant in their wake.
Grantaire and Feuilly shared a confused look, before Grantaire got up to close the door. “That was the weirdest parent-teacher meeting I’ve ever had.” Grantaire laughed, watching Feuilly trying to decipher what he had just experienced. “I mean I’ve met beautiful people before, but sweet jesus. Mr Enjolras… Why are the good ones always taken?”
“At least you weren’t hit on by a married man!” Feuilly returned, his face still a little pink from Bahorel’s attention. “I mean I wasn’t being stupid, he was hitting on me right?”
Grantaire nodded, sitting down beside Feuilly once again. “Dude you were about five minutes away from him offering to blow you in the teachers lounge, and inviting Enjolras and I to watch… He’s totally your type though.”
“Dude?”
“Trying something new out.”
Feuilly rolled his eyes at his friend and colleague. “He’s totally my type though, you’re right. Urgh.”
“Tragically taken.” Grantaire sighed, gathering his things together. “C’mon Feu. Let’s go home, I’ve got wine, and ice cream. Lets get a bit drunk and watch Drag Race.”
“You only want to watch Drag Race to critique the outfits and shout mean things at the tv.”
“And?”
“I don’t even know why we’re friends.” Feuilly shook his head and threw his bag on his shoulder. “I don’t even like you.”
“You love me, that’s a fucking lie.” Grantaire returned with a smug grin. “And my flat was nicer than yours so you live with me, and my cats. Because you love us all Feu.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”