Work Text:
It's not that Grantaire doesn't love her sorority sisters, not at all. But sometimes she misses her other friends, namely Élie and Cosme.
She's known Élie for years now. Their families were close back in the day, before the Thénardier's lost their money in a bad investment and Grantaire's asshole parents dropped them like they were last year's designer shoes. Grantaire hates them for what they did. Mr. and Mrs. Thénardier aren't exactly the best of people. In fact, they're downright awful, and they still live above their means. But Élie is funny, sarcastic and good-hearted, and he's here entirely on scholarship (both need- and merit-based) and Grantaire is glad for it.
She's been busy lately; Enjolras is making them help her organize some big event (Grantiare's been assigned art duty, which means endless hours making signs and pamphlets with Feuilly, and resisting the urge to make smartass slogans instead of what Jehan wrote), and her professors are laying the work on thick, so it's been a few weeks since she's seen Élie, even though they both live on campus.
So when Élie drops by the house unexpectedly with Cosme in tow, Grantaire runs down the stairs and throws herself into Élie's arms, laying a smacking, obnoxious kiss on his lips.
Élie swings her around, grinning, and puts her down gently, ruffling her hair.
Grantaire is so single-minded in her happiness that she entirely misses Enjolras standing at the top of the stairs, witnessing the kiss and nothing else as she stalks away a moment later.
"I missed you, asshole," Grantaire says.
"Careful now," says Cosme, who is standing on Élie's left. "I might get jealous."
"There's plenty of me to go around," Grantaire smirks and hugs Cosme, peppering his face with obnoxious kisses that he tries to squirm away from.
"Not what I meant!" He laughs. Cosme is a little shorter than Élie, but still taller than Grantaire herself, and he is slender and blonde. His cheeks are always ruddy, and his eyes are green and bright. He's from Georgia, and he's a perfect southern gentleman, through and through. Grantaire can see why Élie loves him. She remembers when they first met, and Élie had come to Grantaire, unable to stop smiling.
It took them a long time to fall together. Cosme actually used to live with the Thénardiers when he was young, and they treated him horribly. Then he was adopted by a wealthy man from old money who whisked him south, and it wasn't until they ended up at the same college by chance that they met again. Élie couldn't deal at first, expecting pity and condescension at every turn, but Cosme wore Élie down eventually, like he wears everyone down, and they are happy together.
Once Cosme offered to bring Élie home to meet his father, Valjean, over a break, and Élie didn't speak to Cosme for two days. Instead, he stayed with Grantaire and they were drunk for a full 48 hours until Cosme hunted him down. They'd screamed at each other and it was the biggest fight they ever had, but it had been cathartic, and Élie had gone to Cosme's home with a considerably lighter heart. Élie has never needed to bring Cosme home to meet his parents however. Even if the Thénardier's had been that kind of family, Cosme had had enough of them to last him a lifetime. That, and Élie himself only puts up with them to see his little sister, Gabrielle.
But Élie is remarkably light-hearted despite his circumstances, and neither Grantaire nor Élie care for the high society they were born into, which is part of why they get along so well.
Grantaire leads them into the living room and they all collapse on the couch, catching up after weeks of not seeing each other.
"These nursing courses are riding my dick so hard," Élie complains, and Cosme just coughs delicately. "And I have to start my hands-on clinical training soon," he says.
"What are you doing again?" Grantaire asks Cosme, mostly to put a stop to Élie's complaining.
"I'm in the college of social work," he says humbly.
"Ugh," Grantaire gags and laughs. "You two are so perfect for each other, both wanting to help people and do the right thing."
Cosme colors, because that's exactly why he's doing it, but Élie cracks up.
"Please," he protests. "Do you know how much nurses get paid at a starting position alone? Besides, I have like four bratty younger siblings. I know how to deal with chaos and sick children."
Grantaire shrugs and agrees. "True," she says, and then they're interrupted by the arrival of a few of the others: Courfeyrac, with an arm slung around Merci, Combeferre, and Joly walk in, but Enjolras is noticeably absent.
"What's up, guys?" Grantaire greets, "Where's our fearless leader?"
"She left a few minutes ago." Combeferre answers in her calm, measured voice. "We ran into her on our way in."
"She seemed kind of… off," Joly adds in, and immediately sounds worried. "Oh god, you don't think she caught something, do you? Because I have a really important paper due and I cannot get sick right now."
Élie rolls his eyes. "Did she look pale?"
Joly shakes her head. "Sweaty? Eyelids fluttering or anything like that?" Joly shakes her head again.
"Then she's fucking fine. What are you, pre-med?" He asks, and before Joly can nod, embarrassed, Courfeyrac pipes up, "And a hypochondriac!"
Élie smirks knowingly. "You med students, always ready to diagnose at the first sneeze."
"What are you then?" Joly asks, indignant.
"I'm in the nursing college," Élie explains, like it's obvious. "And the first thing we learn is when somebody isn't sick, so we don't waste our time."
Everyone laughs, including Cosme, who usually tries to keep Élie in check, and Joly looks betrayed. Secretly Grantaire thinks that Élie is probably the best person for Joly to be friends with. Someone has to keep her obsessive diagnosing in check. She swears, if there was an honor for worst googler of medical conditions, Joly would win it unopposed. She doesn't even look in her textbooks, for God's sake.
The laughter dies down and Grantaire realizes that none of them actually know her friends outside the sorority, so she sits up, snapping her fingers to get everyone's attention.
"Introductions!" She says, motioning to the boys sitting on the couch next to her.
"This degenerate here is Élie," She says, ignoring Courfeyrac's mumble of "You're one to talk," "And this babe is Cosme, and sorry ladies, but he's taken."
She's not the only one who misses Merci's face fall. Courfeyrac still has her arm around her shoulders, but she drops it, put out. It's not that Courf is that serious about Merci- she's not serious about anyone- but she likes the attention, she likes Merci well enough, and she's definitely not happy.
Still, she doesn't let it stop her from introducing herself with a flourish.
"Cheri Courfeyrac, at your service," she says and kisses Cosme and Élie's hands. "Believe it or not it's on my driver's license," she explains at Élie's raised brow. "Aptly named, I think." She says and winks at Cosme, mostly to annoy Merci.
"Helen Combeferre, but everyone just calls me Combeferre." Combeferre says, and shakes their hands.
"And what's your name, doctor?" Élie asks Joly, a wicked look in his eye. One of Grantaire's favorite things about Élie is his sense of humor. It's genuine, not like the kind that Grantaire has built up all around herself as a defense mechanism.
"Joly," she says, shaking Élie's hand with a smile. Joly has a feeling she will not become one of those asshole doctors who does't respect nurses, and she's glad for it. Quite the contrary, Joly might be one of those doctors in which nurses spark the fear of god. It's probably better that way. Probably.
Merci is the last one to introduce herself, and she trips over her feet and blushes trying to shake Cosme's hand. Élie is decidedly unimpressed with Merci fawning over his boyfriend, and he stands.
"I think it's time for us to go," He says, and pulls Cosme up with him, who smiles graciously at everyone.
"I'll catch you later," Grantaire pulls Élie in for a hug, then kisses Cosme on the cheek- again, mostly to annoy Merci.
"It was really nice to meet you all!" Cosme calls out as they walk out the door, and Élie pops his head back in and mouths, "We're gonna have sex" and makes an obscene hand gesture that Cosme must catch because they hear him shout, "Jesus christ, Élie, behave!" right before it slams shut behind them.
Grantaire collapses back on the couch, cackling, and Combeferre rolls her eyes at Merci.
"Stop drooling," She orders, but Merci just sighs longingly.
"Seriously, dude, he's boning my best friend. It's weird," Grantaire says, and walks into the kitchen, yelling that if she's gonna deal with Merci pining over her gay friend, she's at least gonna be drunk.
"He's just so handsome," Merci whines, and Courfeyrac makes an exasperated noise.
Grantaire is fishing out a half empty bottle of vodka form the freezer when Combeferre comes up behind her.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about Enjolras's bad mood, would you?" She asks, and Grantaire starts.
"Jesus," she says. "No, why would you think that?"
"Because, any time Enjolras is upset, it's your fault." When Grantaire starts to protest, Combeferre puts a hand up. "I'm her best friend. I know her, and I know you."
Combeferre sighs. "Besides," she adds. "Any time you're upset, I know it's because of Enjolras."
Grantaire's shoulders slump, and she puts the bottle back.
"That's probably true," she acquiesces. "But this time, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I've barely even seen her all day."
Combeferre just shrugs. "Just think about it," she says and leaves the kitchen.
Combeferre is the only sane, rational one out of all of them, Grantaire knows, and sometimes she hates her for it. She doesn't like being confronted with truths of any kind. It's much easier to live in her dream world, where she's an art history major and a classics minor just to piss off her parents (because Grantaire doesn't have a passion for anything, or at least, she won't admit it), and she definitely does not have real, honest-to-goodness feelings for Enjolras.
When Enjolras finally comes home that night, after hours in the library tackling her paper on the French Revolution, she drops her bag on the floor of her room and sinks into the chair at her desk. She's exhausted, and she feels a little weak, like she's trembling and she can't make herself stop. It's a feeling she's unfortunately familiar with; she has a lot of commitments, and sometimes she forgets little things, like eating and sleeping.
All she wants to do is collapse into bed and sleep until next week, but the door opens and she's about to complain until she smells the takeout and her mouth is watering too much for her to say a word.
"I figured you might be hungry," Grantaire says and holds the food out like a peace offering, though she still isn't sure why Enjolras is upset.
"Thank you," she says genuinely, and starts shoveling the food into her mouth in a way that could hardly be called ladylike.
Grantaire just sits down on her bed in silence and waits for Enjolras to finish eating before she says anything. She's being cautious and it rattles Enjolras.
"What's up?" Grantaire asks when Enjolras is no longer inhaling noodles.
"Nothing," Enjolras replies, but she knows she sounds dodgy.
"I saw you and your… boyfriend earlier," Enjolras finally admits, because it's clear that Grantaire isn't going to let this go.
"What's so funny?" She asks, offended and indignant when Grantaire bursts into laughter and won't shut up.
"Is that what you've got your panties in a twist over?" She asks, wheezing, when she can finally catch her breath.
Enjolras is a dignified woman and she most certainly does not get her panties in a twist over anything, thank you very much. When she doesn't answer, Grantaire pulls her over to the bed.
"Élie is not my boyfriend," she says, and graciously does not comment on the way that Enjolras immediately relaxes.
"Well, you can't act like it's not an irrational assumption to make," Enjolras defends herself. "You did kiss him. And you are bisexual."
"Yeah but I'll kiss pretty much anybody. In fact, the only person who kisses more people than me is Courfeyrac." This is true, Enjolras knows, but she couldn't help but feel jealousy well up in the pit of her stomach when she saw Grantaire throwing herself at someone else.
"Élie and I have known each other for years," she explains. "And did you see that hot piece of ass standing next to him? That was his boyfriend, Cosme."
Enjolras is embarrassed and her cheeks heat up.
"Were you jealous?" Grantaire asks in a sing-song, and Enjolras shakes her head stubbornly.
"Come on, you know the only person I ever want to kiss is you," she whispers, and now Enjolras's cheeks are hot for another reason.
"If you asked me, I would never kiss anyone but you," She says, and then Enjolras has to kiss her, has to pull her close, because she doesn't want to think about what would happen if she ever did ask. They don't have a name for what they are, and Enjolras couldn't define it if she was asked. Grantaire is wild where Enjolras is serious. She is an artist and Enjolras prefers politics. Grantaire is barely a part of the fold and Enjolras leads it. She still has no idea how they fell together, but she knows that what they have isn't exclusive, though for Enjolras is might as well be. She doesn't do casual well, but she's afraid of scaring Grantaire away, no matter what Grantaire says.
She's scared that she'll give herself entirely to Grantaire and then find Grantaire drunk, in bed with someone else a week later. She's scared that she's too serious for Grantaire, and Grantaire will grow bored and leave her. She knows she isn't giving Grantaire enough credit, but she also doesn't know the depth of Grantaire's feelings for her, doesn't know that Grantaire hasn't so much as looked at another person in months.
She wonders how long it will take for one of them, or both of them, to become dissatisfied with this half-relationship they have, and either give it up, or go all the way. She knows that she wants the latter, but that Grantaire might want the former, and she's not ready to face that decision yet.
So when Grantaire pulls away, claiming that Enjolras tastes like food, Enjolras just goes to brush her teeth, smiling fondly, because as long as Grantaire is in her bed, she's going to keep her there.
