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A rolling wave of thunder crashed over Grantaire, shaking the pixels around him. He didn’t know if the electrical storm was natural or manmade but they had to get out of the Code before they were nothing but a drawn out glitch. He had seen what happened to people when they were online for too long or caught in a power surge. At best, your heart gave in and you no longer had a body to return to. At worst—he had seen brains melt before. He really didn't want any part of him to be liquefied.
They shouldn't have gone online in the first place but the Guard was banging on the door of the safehouse and there was no escape other than going online and finding another port to escape through.
But it was impossible to find an exit when the Code around them kept refreshing, briefly sending them into a numbing darkness. At any moment, that dark could last forever. It could throw them into an eternity of trying and failing to find their footing, their hold, a light.
Grantaire was plunged into darkness again and he forced himself to run. A clicking sound rattled his skull and then there was a blinding white lightning bolt and Grantaire regained feeling in his body just in time to run directly into someone.
“Grantaire,” Enjolras said as he put his hands on his shoulders to steady him. “Are you alright?” He ducked his head to look him in the eyes and his usually perfect hair was frizzy with static. The air around them smelled like burning wires and ozone.
“Have you found a port?” Even now, Grantaire stayed still so that Enjolras would keep his hands on him for longer. How pathetic was he? Back when they were kids, his father said he’d follow Enjolras to his death. Undoubtedly, he would one day but, hopefully, it hadn’t come so soon.
Enjolras shook his head and then caught sight of something over Grantaire’s shoulders. His eyes went dark and Grantaire didn’t need to turn around to understand that the Guard had followed them into the Code. He didn’t care how much they were paid. He’d never risk his life like this for a job.
“Port. Now.” Grantaire said and he tugged Enjolras forward just in time for everything to refresh again and he lost the weight of Enjolras’ hand in his. When everything came back, Enjolras was a few feet ahead of him, leaning down to comfort a tiny girl. She was only four or five, with light brown curls and tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re going to be fine. We’re going to get out of here.” Enjolras said but Grantaire was rooted to the spot. He knew that something had happened to Enjolras. There had been a secret that everyone had been keeping from him for years. Courfeyrac once said it was none of his business and—Enjolras had been even more stressed during the last few months when Grantaire was living out of the same safehouse as him but he hadn’t realized—
He hadn’t realized that Enjolras had a daughter.
He looked around him, silently writing a code to find a port but the only thing he could clearly make out in front of him was a loading dial. It flashed unevenly as Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’ arm again. Enjolras turned halfway towards him and he picked his daughter up. Grantaire couldn’t look at her because he knew she’d see only panic in his eyes.
Courfeyrac had brought her with him one day a few weeks ago when Grantaire had been too drunk to even think anything of it. He had been bleeding and the girl had been screaming so loudly, he was convinced she was injured as well. She was only afraid and Enjolras held her until her screams finally subsided. Grantaire, for his part, deposited their dirty clothes into the wash and then laid down on the couch to sleep the wine off. From then on, the girl had mostly stayed out of his way and he showed her the same courtesy. It wasn't until now that the realization of who she was finally stuck him.
A heavy rain began falling around them, obscuring everything but themselves. Great. At this rate, they wouldn’t see the Guard until they were on top of them. Hopefully, the Guard was seeing the same.
A small beep sounded and the three of them turned to where a door had appeared. It was weathered and scratched, but the light blue metal looked durable enough.
“Let’s go,” Grantaire said, not caring where it led in the slightest. If they stayed here they were going to die. Or worse—he could not stress enough how much worse was a very real possibility.
“Don’t—if you get out of the Code now we might never find you again.” Enjolras said and someone was screaming but it was too pixelated for them to make out who. Courfeyrac had been separated from them the moment they went online. Feuilly was here somewhere, as well as Combeferre and Marius.
“If we stay in the Code we’ll be dead at best!” Grantaire grabbed Enjolras arm and pulled him closer. If he needed him to get on his knees and beg, he would. Dead was the best case scenario if things went tits up right now.
Enjolras searched his eyes for a long moment and looked at him like he had something to say. Another scream reached them and his daughter began crying harder. He put her down on the ground and pushed her in Grantaire’s direction.
“Take her,” Enjolras said, his voice tight, “take her and go. Promise me you’ll keep her safe. Promise me that you’ll run and you won’t stop. We’ve been exposed; they’re after all of us.”
“Enjolras.” Grantaire put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and it immediately went numb with static. She was crying, trying to reach back out to Enjolras. Grantaire picked her up, she cried louder.
“Promise me!” Enjolras shouted, his voice took on the sound of a glitch and zeros and ones flashed across the right side of his face. Grantaire wrapped both arms around the girl and pulled her back into his chest. “Don’t try to find us!” Enjolras pushed them towards the port.
“Of course we’re going to find you—”
“No. It’s not safe. They know my face in particular. They won’t stop but you’re not as involved. They won’t scour the Code for you. You have to keep her safe. You can never see any of us again.”
“Enjolras!” Grantaire shouted, annoyed that he was here doing his self-sacrifice bullshit again. He had a fucking martyr kink and Grantaire’s life would be a lot easier if he found a way to translate it into the bedroom instead of nearly dying every four months.
“Go!” Enjolras shouted, his voice glitched again and Grantaire could only see the woman they had found too late, brain matter leaking from her ears.
“No!” He shouted back but Enjolras only grabbed his arms and pushed him away.
“You have to. For Ninon!”
Ninon. His daughter.
She was crying into his chest now, hiding her face from the Code around them. This was no place for a toddler.
He searched Enjolras’ face but it was closed off and determined. “Fine. Fuck you—I promise you’ll never see us again.” He snapped, as the girl in his arms wailed at his words. This was going to fuck her up for life.
“Good!” Enjolras said and shoved him again, “Ninon—you’ll be okay. R will take care of you.”
Grantaire could barely take care of himself on a good day but he raced to the port and was pulling the girl offline with him before he could second guess himself. He hoped wherever they ended up was at least out of reach of the electrical storm.
Three Years Later
Enjolras limped down the platform, scanning the incoming trains for malware. Recently, all of Bahorel’s reports had been about how malware on public transport was hijacking the batteries of Holowear to power datamining centers. He tapped the skin at the corner of his Holoeye when an alert popped up. There was a damaged code on the approaching train. Something of Combeferre’s.
He pulled his hood down lower over his face. The Holoeye was sophisticated but in the dark of the Metro, a faint light betrayed it. His vision had been destroyed in the storm that took Grantaire and Jehan away from them. Took Ninon from her family. Enjolras himself would have died if Feuilly hadn’t found him when he did, and even then, the only thing he could focus on for the week he was half-blind and bedridden was telling Grantaire to run. No one blamed him, but it was easy now to think of all the ways he could have kept them together.
His breath caught in his lungs as a thought came to him—the tracking code Combeferre put on them all over a decade ago—Grantaire’s wouldn’t have been updated in at least three years. Possibly longer, if he had been successful in dodging updates before they were separated. Combeferre was good with updates, they were painless and only took a few seconds but Grantaire always said they made his brain itch.
No.
There was no way of knowing where they were thrown out of the Code. They could be anywhere. The odds of them being on that train were minuscule. In this world of starvation and destruction, hope made you a target. Hope got you killed.
Enjolras pressed his back against the wall and waited anyway. Three years was a long time. You could travel the globe multiple times, even while keeping a low profile. Especially when the only picture the Guard had of Grantaire was one where he was wearing a hood, his face obscured mostly by shadow and Enjolras’ shoulder. They didn’t have any reliable picture of Ninon. She didn’t even have a birth certificate.
The hovertrain screeched to a halt in the station and it was—rough. Sparks flew from the deteriorating breaks as it slid farther down the platform. Only one interior light worked, and it was blinking in what his Holoeye was translating as morsecode—eggplant, barnacle, within, barnacle.
A crowd disembarked, eyes down, faces gaunt. Three years and everything was worse. Everyone was starving and desperate. They were supposed to be changing things but the most they could do to help was protecting themselves, their families, strangers when they crossed paths.
He tracked the broken code and his eyes landed on a man walking with a child halfway down the platform. He had broad shoulders, dark curls escaping from beneath a brown beanie. Enjolras shifted his position but he couldn’t see his face. The man had a hand on the girl’s shoulder and he wore a backpack that was more patches than fabric. The girl came up to his elbows and was maybe seven or eight.
They were headed for the stairs. He gave them a moment’s headstart and then locked onto Combeferre’s code and followed. He kept his breath even, tried to keep his heartrate steady so none of the biometric crime prevention scanners picked him up. This had to be Grantaire. Somehow, either through chance or design, he had found him again.
The pair walked without stopping as the crowd leaving the Metro dispersed in various directions until it was just Enjolras trailing half a block behind them. They didn’t speak nor look around them which meant they knew they were being followed. Good.
They turned a particually quiet corner with no security cams and then the code stopped. Enjolras sighed in relief but braced himself for a punch. Grantaire could, and would, defend himself.
He turned the corner with his hood down and hands raised.
He was met with the barrel of a gun that immediately vanished with a dark curse.
“What the fuck!” Grantaire spat and then tugged the hood of Enjolras’s jacket back up. “Do you always go around stalking people!”
“Only those I like.” Enjolras smiled down at both him and Ninon whose eyes went wide at the sight of him.
“Killian!” Ninon shouted, jumping up and throwing her arms around him. He sighed and hugged her back, relieved and terrified at once. She was so much older. Her hair was in two plaits down her back, green beanie pulled down low on her forehead.
Grantaire took a step back, his stance tired, but his back was rigid, as if ready for a fight.
True to his character, he only crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his right leg, “you know, I had three years to practice what to say to you. Shower arguments and the like. But I’m just fucking glad to see you’re alive.”
Enjolras turned them both around and led them down the street. “Do you have a place to stay?”
“We know someone who knows someone,” Grantaire said derisively.
Enjolras put his hand in the center of his back to keep him walking, “You need to let them know you won’t be able to make it after all.”
“It’s your funeral,” Grantaire said quietly and took out an ancient brick of technology and messaged someone. It immediately started flashing an angry red color.
“Did you tell them we got kidnapped?” Ninon sighed and then turned to Enjolras, “we have to go get them. Last time R said we got kidnapped, there was a whole explosion. You’ll want to see them too.”
Enjolras looked to Grantaire who gave an uninterested shrug.
Enjolras gave him three minutes to respond, but when they made it to the next stoplight, he asked, “Who are you meeting?”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” Grantaire lifted his chin, self-satisfied with how contrary he was being. They had lost contact with Jehan during the electrical storm as well. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta went off on their own a year later and then never regained contact. Hopefully it was all of them, if they were all with Grantaire and Ninon, it meant they hadn’t lost anyone.
Enjolras took a deep breath to quell his annoyance and then sent Courfeyrac a message that he was bringing company home. Instantly, an eggplant emoji and question marks popped up in his line of sight and Enjolras rolled his eyes. He responded with a firm no and Courfeyrac bombarded him with a gif of a cat looking sad.
Grantiare was looking at him oddly but he, for once, kept his mouth shut. Enjolras let him change directions at the next corner and they walked in silence for several more minutes before coming to a stop in front of a flat next to a cafe with faded green and white curtains. Several people sat inside the cafe, hands wrapped around mugs.
Enjolras scanned the immediate area and found no tracking devices or malware. It was a good neighborhood.
The door unlocked when Grantaire touched the knob and Enjolras had to almost physically quell his need to reprimand him on how reckless biometric usage was.
“You’re doing so well.” Grantaire cooed nearly in his ear as they went inside and shut the door behind them.
Enjolras didn’t glance in his direction. It was better to pretend he was talking to Ninon.
“Enjolras!” A voice sounded and then Bossuet was half-falling down the stairs towards them. Enjolras beamed at him.
The door opened behind them and Musichetta slipped in, grinning broadly. “Got you,” she smiled and hugged him the same time Bossuet did.
“You were following us?” Enjolras asked her hair and Grantaire shot finger guns in his direction.
“That’s what you call a kidnapping.” He was disgustingly proud of himself and leaned against the wall.
Ninon rounded on him the moment Bossuet and Musichetta let go, “Killian, we were on a cruise ship!”
“A what?” Enjolras asked blankly. The thought of a cruise ship was so foreign to him that it took a long moment to even remember what it entailed.
Grantaire's shoulders rose a little defensively, “Yeah. What were we supposed to do? Sit around forever waiting for you to save the world? We went on a daddy daughter vacation. And we did some homeschooling but don’t worry, it wasn’t me—it was—“
“Your girl is a math genius.” Musichetta smiled and put her hand on top of Ninon’s hair. She rolled her eyes.
“Compared to Grantaire, everyone is.” Enjolras teased and was rewarded by a faint blush on Grantaire’s cheeks as he looked away.
“Joly and Jehan are with us as well. We couldn’t find anyone—“ Bossuet began and something clattered to the ground upstairs. Someone, and it sounded like Jehan, gave a cry and footsteps sounded running towards them.
“With me.” Enjolras sighed. They were fine. In the face of all this darkness, they were still whole. “Everyone else is with me.”
“Everyone?” Ninon piped up and Enjolras sighed in relief this time. He hadn’t been able to face the Courfeyrac’s when he told them he had sent Ninon away with Grantaire. Would it have been safer to keep them both there? Would they have survived the electrical storm? Enjolras almost hadn’t but maybe they would have fared better.
“Everyone.” Enjolras knelt down in front of Ninon and pulled her into a hug. He could remember when she was a tiny little thing in Courfeyrac’s arms. “I’ll take you to them as soon as everyone’s ready.”
Jehan appeared at the top of the stairs and laughed, putting his hands on his hips. “Were you with them the whole time and Grantaire didn’t say anything?”
“He found us at the station.” Grantaire said, shoulders hunched in defense. He was pointedly not looking at Enjolras as he stood back up and he frowned in confusion. What was wrong with him?
Joly poked his head around Jehan’s shoulder, “did I hear you say you have everyone else?”
Musichetta ran up the stairs to pull Joly into a kiss. Jehan sidestepped them, unfazed, “do you have room for all of us?”
Enjolras nodded, and Jehan narrowed his eyes.
“I won’t have to squeeze into a bed with Joly and Bossuet?”
Enjolras laughed, “You can leave that Musichetta.”
Jehan grinned and waved him up, “help me pack. We don’t have much but it’ll still go faster with some extra hands.”
“I just got here.” Grantaire complained.
“I don’t care.” Jehan told him flatly and they went upstairs together. "Joly, Bossuet, and I came to Paris via the North while R, Ninon, and Musichetta came from the South. We seperated about a week ago. Glad you could be here for the reunion." Jehan's voice was rougher than he remembered but his smile was still the same.
It took a total of ten minutes to pack their meager belongings into backpacks and then they were out on the street again. Enjolras had Ninon between him and Grantaire, with Jehan on his other side. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta followed half a block behind.
Enjolras didn’t want to use public transport so it took nearly an hour to walk to the other side of the city. By then, Ninon was on Grantaire’s back and she was telling him a, hopefully fictional, story about how she once lost Grantaire in a floating black market.
The safehouse they were in was located above an abandoned furniture store. The keypad to the doorway was a twenty four digit passcode—something Grataire found infuriating but it gave Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta time to catch up. Once the front door was shut behind them all, Enjolras entered the next three passcodes that unlocked the door that led upstairs. Ninon sprinted up them and screamed at the top of her lungs when she saw Combeferre holding the door to the flat open for them.
Combeferre watched her run past with wide eyes and when he saw the rest of them climbing the stairs after her, he smiled.
“Needed air, huh?” he asked softly and Enjolras smiled back.
“Sheer dumb luck,” he shrugged and stood next to him as everyone entered the apartment. He went to Grantaire’s side once everyone was inside. The safehouse was technically three—they had broken down the walls between three of the third story flats to be able to house them all comfortably and barricaded the other doors to give them a single entrance. The room was crowded with the members of Les Amis that were in the city and the entire Courfeyrac family. All of Courfeyrac siblings and their familes, including four children under the age of seven, a handful of cousins, and their parents.
“Mama!” Ninon shouted and she threw herself into Madame Courfeyrac’s arms. Grantaire stood next to him as if his systems were rebooting.
“Wait. She’s not your daughter?” He asked blankly and didn’t look away from Ninon and her mother.
Enjolras pulled back as Courfeyrac stood up from the couch, with the sun shining in through the window behind him, it caused him to look like an avenging angel.
“Do you seriously think Enjolras fucked my mother?” Courfeyrac asked in a low tone and Enjolras put a hand on his chest to stop him but he was laughing too hard at Courfeyrac’s outrage for it to be anything more than a touch.
He looked between the two of them, “When would I have time to have a daughter?”
“Historically it only takes a few minutes. Maybe even seconds.” Grantaire looked down his nose at him as he spoke and Enjolras was still just so glad to see him that he couldn’t help but grin.
“Historically?” Combeferre asked, his eyes wide. “You have historical data on how long it would take Enjolras to—“
Enjolras groaned and Joly doubled over, “no, don’t make those noises I can’t handle it.”
Grantaire crossed his arms and glared at Courfeyrac, “Maybe instead of trying to attack me you should be happy to see I’m alive.”
“Thank you for not killing my baby sister.” Courfeyrac's tone was sarcastic but he wrapped his arms around Grantaire in a spine-cracking hug. After he released him, he moved onto the others. When he got to Jehan, he put his hand on the back of his head and swayed him back and forth.
Grantaire rolled his eyes, both at the hug and his words, “I don’t care about that. What about me?”
“Or yourself.” Courfeyrac said from overtop Jehan’s head.
“You’re welcome.” Grantiare said with a small flourish and absolutely no sense of humility.
Joly chose that moment to hit Grantaire on his arm, “You had us all convinced that she was Enjolras’ daughter!”
“You all thought that Enjolras had a secret daughter? What did you all go through?” Courfeyrac’s voice was blank and then he waved for them to wait a moment, “hold on—let me grab Feuilly. Bahorel’s not here—he and Lyn are scouting ahead—and Marius and Cosette are with her father—Jehan—just—wait a minute.”
Enjolras smiled at the sight of his friend’s retreating back. Feuilly had been up early that morning patrolling a partially glitched section of the Code. It was all but uninhabitable—the storm that separated them was only the beginning of a vicious destruction of everthing both online and offline, but it was quiet now. Whatever the Guard didn’t burn down was destroyed by the repercussions of ruining countless ecosystems until there was simply nothing left to destroy. But there would always be something to protect. In the aftermath of the devastation, the only thing left to do was rebuild.
Enjolras looked to Grantaire. There were things he’d like to rebuild between the two of them as well. The past few years he had been numb to the terror, the thought of him never escaping the Code that day, of him and Ninon running into a government building, or a crime ring, or some flooded bunker that was still connected to the Code.
Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s arm and tugged him into the bathroom, “help me with my leg, I can’t do it on my own.”
“What’s wrong with your leg?” Joly demanded but Combeferre stepped in, hopefully explaining that it was not a big deal in low tones instead of the truth. Enjolras had lost the lower half of his leg nearly a year ago to an infected injury that nearly killed him.
Grantaire looked vaguely petrified but he shut the door behind him, dulling the conversation to a low din.
“You’re really alright?” Enjolras asked, turning to face him so quickly, Grantarie took a step back and his back knocked against the door.
“Yeah,” Grantaire said plainly and glanced down to Enjolras’ leg. His face was tanned like he spent a lot of time outside and he wasn’t as gaunt as most of the people who called Paris home. “But what about you?”
“I lied, I don’t need to take it off yet.”
Grantaire’s eyes were dangerous when they snapped back up to his face, “take it off?”
“I’ll explain later. It’s really okay. I—” For a moment, with Grantaire looking at him, his words faltered. Then, he found his voice again, “You promised me that you’d take her and leave. You promised me you’d never come back.”
“You know me. I don’t keep my promises. Can you imagine me and Ninon pretending to be father and daughter forever? Was I supposed to walk her down the aisle? Of course we’d make our way back to Paris eventually.”
Enjolras studied his face, the scar that split his eyebrow, the way his lips were turned down into a frown. “She never told you the truth?”
“Well, now that I know she’s a Courfeyrac, I expect she was annoyed with me. You know how Courfeyrac loves his grudges.” There was a faint blush around his cheekbones and he put his hands into his back pockets.
Enjolras couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on his lips, “How did you not know the name of Courfeyrac’s baby sister?”
“I would like to remind you that Joly, Bossuet, Jehan, and Musichetta also didn’t know, so maybe you want to pull them in here as well to scold them?”
“I’m not scolding—” Enjoras began but there was a loud knock on the door.
“No reunion blowjobs when my parents are literally ten feet away!” Courfeyrac shouted and at least three of his siblings complained loudly.
“Did you all get adopted or what?” Grantaire asked and banged back on the door.
Courfeyrac hit it twice more in response before walking away. “They’ll be out in a minute when they’re decent!” He announced, voice growing more distant as he went back into the other room.
Grantaire laughed under his breath and shook his head, “fuck, I missed him. I missed all of you. Bahorel’s not here? Who’s Lyn?”
“She’s his partner. You’ll like her, she laughs easily.” Enjolras glanced at the door, they should go out before the others start to suspect something was wrong. “I just—I missed you too. A lot. I’m glad you’re alright.”
Before he could talk himself out of it, Enjolras pulled Grantaire into a tight hug. He was warm and solid in his arms, he smelled faintly like gasoline, and, after a moment, Grantaire put his hands on Enjolras’ back. Enjolras drew in a deep breath and then pulled away.
“Let’s go back to the others,” he said quietly and then opened the door and slipped out.
Grantaire sat down on the couch after two of Courfeyrac’s sisters bullied him into putting his things in Enjolras, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac’s room and changing into a sweater that had the world’s ugliest chihuahua embroidered on the front.
Combeferre sat beside him, “I heard you ended up on an island in the South Pacific?”
“If you’re wondering if Ninon gets seasick, the answer is yes. Thankfully, there are still cruises at the end of the world and she can stomach boats if they have a bowling alley.”
Combeferre just looked at him for a minute before he could bring himself to ask, “Do I want to know how you managed it?”
Grantaire shrugged, it was so long ago, he honestly had forgotten the details, “Just some slight embezzlement in Tokyo, nothing too dramatic. I don't think they ever noticed.”
“What did Enjolras say to you?” Combeferre asked and it was fifty fifty which one of these topics were the one he was really curious about.
“Just some light scolding, don't worry. I did get a hug, which I was wholly unprepared for.” He leaned forward on the couch, careful not to make eye contact with a well-meaning Courfeyrac, to look around the room, “I need to tell Bossuet, we had a bet before. I owe him a drink.”
“Why do you owe him a drink?” Combeferre asked with every ounce of his patience.
“I said that Enjolras would probably break out into hives if we ever had skin to skin contact. His cheek touched my neck and, as far as I can tell, nothing happened.”
Combeferre, predictably, looked at him like he was an idiot, “I missed your stupidity.” Combeferre looked around the room until his gaze landed on Enjolras, “I’d hold off on the drink. You might end up owning him more than that.”
“What the fuck?” Grantaire asked, the same moment someone came to stand in front of him.
Courfeyrac’s father put a bowl of soup into his hands, “warm yourself up, it tastes better than it looks.”
The soup in the bowl was an unsettling grey color so thank fuck for that. He thanked the man quietly but he only grinned—he had the same smile as Courfeyrac—and pat him on the shoulder.
The Courfeyrac’s had probably adopted him. They kept smiling every time they met his eyes. It was embarrassing and a little overwhelming. Taking care of Ninon hadn’t been trouble—it had just been survival. He wouldn’t have let her fall overboard no matter who he thought she was.
Combeferre tapped his spoon against the side of Grantaire’s bowl. “We’ve been worried about all of you but Enjolras has been particularly upset.”
“That’s because the last time we saw each other, we argued and then I took Ninon with me. I can’t even take care of myself, so he just felt guilty—”
Combeferre shook his head and got up to give Enjolras his seat, “that’s not it and I think you know it.”
Grantaire held onto the soup as Enjolras sat beside him, his lips were pressed into a thin line as he watched Combeferre go. Enjolras had a bowl of soup in his hands as well but he didn’t hesitate to lift the spoon to his lips and take a sip. His expression remained neutral and so Grantaire ate a spoonful as well.
It wasn’t bad, earthy and oversalted, but it wasn’t the worst thing he’d eaten in the past year. For a while, all they had were MRE’s.
Instinctfully, his eyes found Ninon. She was sitting between Courfeyrac and one of her sisters, giggling at something one of them said. It was good to see her relaxed. There had been times where the pain of being separated from her family had been at the back of her mind but there had never been this sort of relief. Her legs were curled up under her, with her bowl of soup perched on her thigh. The soles of her shoes peeked out from under her legs.
“Shoes off the couch,” Grantaire said reflexively and half the room stilled. He blinked and looked to her parents, “Sorry—”
Madam Courfeyrac shook her head, “I’m happy she was well taken care of.”
“You’re not my real Dad.” Ninon grumbled with a small smile on her lips and Grantaire rolled his eyes.
“Eat something green and don’t talk to me.”
“Gladly!” She pretended to be mad by flipping one of her plaits over her shoulder but she met his eyes with a teasing glance a moment later and he couldn’t help but smile back. It was a weird feeling, knowing he didn’t need to protect her anymore. It was as if he had been clinging to the edge of the cliff for years and then suddenly he realized he was standing on solid ground. He hadn’t expected letting go to be so hard.
Enjolras put his hand on his knee and squeezed, “We’re together again and we all watch out for one another.”
“Do you have alcohol? I haven't had a drink since I got custody.”
Enjolras eyes had the same fearful expression as Joly’s did when he learned.
Grantaire just shrugged, “Couldn’t afford it. I worked fishing boats until we reached Japan and I was more afraid of drowning than withdrawal. Plus, I didn’t want Ninon to feel alone in leaning over the side of the boat.”
“How magnanimous of you,” Enjolras said dryly and squeezed his knee again before turning back to his soup.
“Jehan, dear, your parents have invited us out to their farm in the South. We’re all gathered here because we’re planning the move.” Courfeyrac’s mother said over the sound of spoons clinking against bowls and mugs.
“Is that safe?” Jehan asked, looking first to Enjolras, and then Combeferre. Grantaire had spent the past two years with Jehan on and off as they travelled across the continent and he knew he loved his parents. Knowing they were okay must be some sort of powerful relief.
Combeferre nodded from where he leaned against the dining room table next to Feuilly, “The Guard never got your name. You don’t have a single wanted poster.”
“Really? I thought we just weren’t looking hard enough.” Joly frowned but Jehan was smiling in a self-satisfied sort of way.
“I hope you all like garlic because we plant half an acre of it every fall,” he boasted and then winked at Grantaire when he caught his eye. There had been a night nearly a year ago when Jehan caught a fever that had him distraught over garlic until he fell asleep near dawn. Joly had been convinced he was going to die because their shitty thermometer kept reading 42.6 and Musichetta had to convince him that it was physically impossible for him to still be alive with that temperature. Ninon and Bossuet had slept through the entire thing. Grantaire had gone out the following week and bought a garlic bulb that was so abhorrently expensive, it had cost a week’s pay. They had roasted it and eaten it plain, which hadn’t been Grantaire’s favorite experience but Jehan had loved it.
“Honestly, I think I’ve forgotten what dirt smells like.” Feuilly tilted his head to study Jehan who only shrugged and told him he was welcome to do his share of the digging as well.
Enjolras had his thigh pressed against Grantaire’s and he was going to crawl out of his skin because of the closeness. To distract himself, Grantaire decided to tease Jehan, “If I’d had known that you weren’t wanted by the French government, you could have bought us plane tickets and we could have flown from Bangkok to Paris in a day.”
“You don’t want to be in airports wanted or not. Mandatory two day deep dive into your life upon landing.” Courfeyrac’s father said, gesturing with his spoon.
“If the plane ever lands.” Feuilly frowned, arms folded across his chest.
“If you had flown you never would have found us.” Musichetta reminded him gently and Grantaire’s nonchalant shrug made her smile.
“Yeah, we never would have had Dubai.” Joly fluttered his eyelashes in Jehan’s direction and Jehan sighed heatedly.
“I told you to never bring up Dubai again.”
“What happened in Dubai?” Combeferre asked sharply because he was never one to miss when one of them did something stupidly dangerous.
“Slight case of accidental bioterrorism,” Jehan frowned.
“It happens,” one of the older Courfeyrac sons said and the man beside him swatted him in the chest.
“It doesn’t.”
Courfeyrac’s brother leaned forward to see Jehan better, “Once my husband goes to bed, we’ll compare notes."
From there, the conversation moved on to practical matters that didn’t involve Grantaire. He was along for the ride now, wherever Enjolras went, he’d follow.
Enjolras, for his part, stayed pressed to his side long after the dishes had been washed and the youngest Courfeyrac's had gone to bed. Grantaire didn’t quite know what to make of it, guilt never did sit pretty on Enjolras’s shoulders. Still, he wasn’t going to complain about Enjolras sitting beside him and just let the conversation wash over him for the most part.
Enjolras woke up in the middle of the night and reached across the bed for Grantaire who he had somehow convinced to sleep next to him. If he was a little shameless, he noticed Grantaire didn’t say no. Courfeyrac had been saying for years that he had been wrong about Grantaire. He antagonized people he liked and he never missed a chance to needle Enjolras.
Still, Courfeyrac once swore that Cosette was into him and was halfway through letting her down gently before she, just as gently, told him that she loved Marius.
Enjolras found only empty sheets and he pushed himself up. For a moment, he was worried the previous day had been a dream but he could hear Jehan snoring from the next room over and so he carefully grabbed his crutch and slipped from bed. He pulled on the sweater Courfeyrac had left thrown over the desk chair.
The bedroom door was ajar and he walked down the hallway towards the common room. The blue light from advertisements from the shops below lit his way and he found Grantaire sitting on the couch, staring out at the sky above the opposite row of flats.
“Can’t sleep?”
Grantaire jumped to his feet as if he had been caught doing something indecent, “Enjolras!”
Enjolras put his hands up to show that he meant no harm. “You can come back to bed and toss and turn all you want. It won’t bother me. I like knowing you're here.”
“No, it’s…” Grantaire shrugged a little helplessly, “I’ve been so worried about keeping Ninon safe that I have too much adrenaline with nowhere to put it.”
“I was surprised to see the two of you still together.” Enjolras knew it was the wrong thing to say when Grantiare's eyes immdiately darkened.
“You thought I’d abandon her? Fuck you.” Grantaire shook his head and turned away from him.
“No! I—“ Enjolras grabbed his arm and forced him to turn back around towards him. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I—you could have sent her with Musichetta and Joly but instead you kept her with you.”
“Yeah, well, I thought she was your daughter and I wouldn’t abandon her. If you didn’t survive, she would have been the last piece of you left in the world. I would have died before I let anything happen to her.” Grantaire’s words came out in an angry hiss but he seemed to realize a moment later what he said because his eyes widened and he took a step back.
Enjolras acted without thinking, Grantaire’s lips were parted ever so slightly as if he was going to argue his way through it, and Enjolras just—kissed him before he even knew that’s what he was planning on doing. Grantaire froze beneath him but when Enjolras put his hands on his throat, Grantaire wrapped his arms around him and began kissing him back. His crutch fell backwards, bouncing off the couch before finally landing on the ground with a soft thud.
He pressed forward and Enjolras's calf knocked into the couch and he fell onto it. Grantaire waited no time in boxing him in, leaning over him until his knees were on either side of Enjolras’ thighs. He groaned as he tilted Enjolras’ head back to kiss him deeper, and harder, and Enjolras tangled his fingers into his hair.
Grantaire pulled away, breathing hard, “did you mean to do that? Or is this the weirdest case of sleepwalking ever?”
“No. I didn’t mean to just kiss you like that but I should have done it years ago. Everyone said I should have spoken with you but I didn’t want to ruin what we had. What if you started secondguessing our interactions? What if you stopped being so forthcoming with your opinions? I couldn’t chance losing you.”
“Combeferre said before he missed my stupidity but I understand what he meant now. I missed your stupidity.”
Enjolras sighed, “but you’ll kiss me again?”
Grantaire’s eyes widened and he leaned back down without hesitation. They kissed for what felt like hours but the sky was just barely beginning to brighten when they finally pulled apart.
Grantaire trailed his fingers down the side of his face, around his eye. “What happened?”
“I lost it in the electrical storm. I didn’t get out of the Code in one piece.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Grantaire said darkly, “and your leg?”
Enjolras watched as he trailed his finger down his thigh towards where his knee was bandaged, “I was shot. Unrelated.”
Grantaire swore then kissed him again. It was a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth that somehow made Enjolras keep talking.
“The actual wound wasn’t bad but we were underground and the water wasn’t clean. It got infected and I’m lucky it was only part of one leg. There’s an undetectable storage compartment built in to the prostetic."
“You sound disgustingly proud of that fact.” Grantiare raised a single eyebrow in a judgy look that was somehow so attractive that Enjolras had to kiss him once more.
“It’s useful,” Enjolras shrugged.
“I bet.” Grantaire moved his hand to Enjolras's waist and held him.
"Eventually I'd like to get a holoversion so I'm never caught with it off but there have been bigger problems."
Footsteps sounded on the floor behind them and Enjolras looked around Grantaire to see Jehan standing in the light of the advertisements. It was good to see him as well, especially after the past few weeks of talking to his parents who were half-grieving their son.
Jehan made a small noise of disgust, “I finally get company other than Bossuet and Joly who think it’s fine to fool around with me in the same bed as long as everything stays above clothes and you two finally decide to get your heads out of your asses and confess that you’ve been in love with each other for nearly a decade?”
“You’re in love with me?” Grantaire asked in shock and Enjolras’ eyes were wide, thinking the same thing. He hadn't realized they had been quite this bad.
Jehan put his head in his hands and groaned. After a moment, he looked at them again, “if you need to fuck about it, can you at least run to the other safehouse?”
“We’re not separating so quickly.” Grantaire said suddenly, grabbing Enjolras’ hand.
Jehan sighed, but it was all theatrics, “Give me ten minutes to fall back asleep then. I’ve grown to become a heavy sleeper.”
“We all need to get back to bed.” Enjolras said when Grantaire looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Are you okay?”
Jehan shrugged, “thinking about my parents. They offered you the farm without knowing if I was alive or dead.”
“They knew you’d find your way back eventually.”
“Maybe.” Jehan said quietly. He was the youngest by far and tonight it showed.
Grantaire climbed off of Enjolras’ lap with a sigh, “do you need a cuddle? This is the second hug I’ve gotten from Enjolras in the last twenty four hours and, let me tell you—“
Jehan laughed under his breath, “I don’t know why we’re friends with you.”
Grantaire grinned, “I’m behaving. I’ve been a model citizen for the past three years. While we were on the cruise—the first one, without you—I willingly spent time in the library.”
“If it was anything like the second cruise, he spent all his time sighing over love poems." Jehan complained with a smile.
Enjolras grabbed his crutch from the floor and got to his feet as well. He went into the kitchen and poured Jehan a cup of water that he drank slowly.
Jehan looked up between the two of them, "Sorry I interupted all this. I bet some of the kids will be up soon too, it's nearly daylight."
"I wouldn't say all this, hardly anything happened." Grantaire waved his hands as he spoke, like he did when he was embarassed.
"Good." Jehan said and took another sip, "What if someone other than me walked in? Do you really want Courfeyrac's father catching you getting handsy?"
"Jehan," Enjolras sighed and Jehan finished his water before giving them both quick kissed on their cheeks.
"Proud of you both. Communicate some more. No more stupid promises." He went back down the hall to his bedroom without looking back at the two of them.
"I think he got up just to cockblock us." Grantiare complained but Enjolras just laced their fingers together. He pulled him down the hall, ignoring how he was stuggling to hold his hand while walking with the crutch. Grantaire waited by the bed as Enjolras pulled the sweater off and leaned his crutch against the desk. He let Enjolras lean on him for a step before he crawled into bed. Grantaire laid down next to him, Enjolras' leg pressed against his.
"Will you promise not to leave again?" Enjolras wrapped Grantaire in his arms and spoke the words into his collarbone. The past few years truly felt over now. The wave of grief and guilt that plagued him had finally began to recede and now he could see the future. The rebuilding.
"First you want me to promise you'll never see me again. Now you want me to promise that you'll see me every day." Grantaire complained in a whisper.
"I want you to be the first thing I see every morning." Enjolras told him plainly and Grantiare stiffened before he hugged him tighter. "Don't leave."
"Jehan said no more promises but I'm not planning on it. Where else would I go? I can't do any daddy daughter trips when there's no more daughter."
Enjolras laughed quietly and pressed a kiss to his skin. Things would get dangerous again and there might come a time where Grantaire would have to leave for his own safety but that time wasn't now. Enjolras was willing to be selfish for a short while at least.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Grantaire complained, after a long stretch of silence in which Enjolras had been, in fact, beginning to fall back asleep, “do you think Combeferre and Courfeyrac would mind if we partake in a little over the clothes action?”
“R, shut up. What’s wrong with you?” Courfeyrac complained, voice scratchy and slightly muffled from his pillow. Combeferre shushed him and the pair whisped quitely to one another before they fell silent again. Courfeyrac pulled the blankets up with an annoyed jerk of his hand.
"Sorry," Enjolras whispered and then kissed Grantiare's throat. His breath hitched and Enjolras did it again, just because he could.
There was another rustle of bedsheets on the other side of the room and Courfeyrac sat up, "what that a motherfucking kiss?"
"Shh," Grantaire whispered loudly, "we'll talk in the morning. We all need sleep."
"Sleep after you tell me if I just heard a fucking kiss from that side of the room?"
"You'll hear more than a kiss if you don't shut up." Grantaire complained gleefully, hiding Enjolras inside a hug.
"Holy fuck." Courfeyrac whispered and then laid back down, presumably ontop of Combeferre, if the grunt was anything to go by.
Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantiare and very pointedly did not kiss him again. Grantiare smiled and kissed the top of his head again, the barest hints of a kiss so that they didn't upset Courfeyrac again. He shut his eyes, unable to keep a soft smile on his lips. The morning would come when it did and then they'd all face it together.