Archive of Our Own

Grantaire arrived at the Musain and for once he wasn't the last to slip through the door. The backroom was still filled with the chatter of people who Grantaire had secretly started to call his friends. He was unsure why these people tolerated him here when all he did was derail their social justice meetings but they did and he was not going to question that.

Bahorel was laughing with Courfeyrac about something, his hands busy braiding Jehan's hair. Admittedly, it wasn't a very good braid, far too sloppy, but Jehan didn't seem to mind, leaning into the touch. How Feuilly was able to read right now was a mystery to Grantaire, but he was absorbed in his book, while next to him Marius and Cosette stared into each others eyes lovingly.

“Hello, 'Aire!” Courfeyrac greeted once he noticed him.

“Hey.” He gave him a wide grin and half a wave, falling into his usual seat. “Where is the chief and his guide?”

“Guide? Combeferre can't find his way out of a shoe box,” Courfeyrac said with a laugh.

“I kinda like it,” Jehan mused, their eyes closed. “The Guide, metaphorically giving us direction. It's poetic.”

Courfeyrac suddenly looked very excited. “Or like a codename,” he said. “We should have code names, guys! Jehan, you could be the Wordsmith and Marius is the Lover.”

At that Marius perked up. “That sounds kind of stupid,” he said with a frown.

“It's that or the Puppy, take your pick,” Bahorel shot back with a grin.

“Can't I make up my own codename?”

Bahorel shook his head. “No sorry, you can't pick your own. It's in the rules.”

“What rules?” Marius persisted, when Cosette placed her hand on his arm.

“The rules, love,” she said. “Also, I kinda like the Lover. It sounds dangerous and a little bit hot.”

It really didn't but Grantaire was not going to point that out. He far too much enjoyed how this group could get lost in the stupidest of comments.

“That's true,” Bahorel mused. “Maybe it isn't right for the Puppy after all.”

“No!” Marius sounded almost desperate. “I'm sticking with the Lover. You gave it to me and now I'm keeping it.”

“You can be the Bastard,” Jehan told their boyfriend. “It surely suits you.”

Bahorel just laughed, when the door opened and the Chief and the Guide entered the room.

“I just got off the phone with the local animal shelter,” Combeferre said, standing next to their board, while Enjolras pinned up an empty sheet of paper to write ideas on. “They are in dire need of some new equipment, which their budget won't allow. Most of the people working in there are volunteers and don't have the time to organize an event to raise the money. Someone told them about what we did last year together with the homeless shelter and they asked us for help. I told them I'd propose the idea to the group.”

Grantaire had actually read about that. 'Group of young activists saves homeless shelter', had been the headline in their local paper. It had been a big deal for about a week, with people calling for more events like this and then – as always – everyone forgot about it and moved on.

“So, what do you have in mind?” Courfeyrac asked.

Combeferre looked at Enjolras, who straightened up immediately, demanding the attention of the room. “We thought about having a baking sale or a flea-market. Collecting donations might not cut it this time, since-”

“People tend to give far more of a shit when they get to pretend they care about other people than about animals?” Grantaire interrupted.

Enjolras sent him a cold glare that still felt like it was burning Grantaire's skin. He looked like he really wanted to snap something back at Grantaire, but managed to hold back. Maybe because even someone as idealistic as Enjolras couldn't deny that there was some truth to Grantaire's words.

“Getting a general idea of what we want to do, if we are going to accept, will be the main topic of today's meeting,” Combeferre continued after a few beats. “Anyone got any objections to accepting their request?”

A round of shaking heads was the answer. Grantaire took the time to take a long drag from his coke, quietly mourning the absence of rum in it. Eponine had asked him to go to Azelma's parent-teacher conference in her place tomorrow, since she had to work extra shifts this week and showing up hungover probably wasn't a good idea.

“Baking sale sounds good,” Feuilly said. “But a flea market might be too time-consuming to organize. Where would we get the things to sell from?”

“It is unlikely that we can get together enough sellable stuff in time to cover their budget,” Enjolras agreed. “But every bit we collect can help.”

“Wouldn't it make more sense to put the focus on the animals so people adopt them?” Grantaire had spoken up more out of habit than out of any wish to contribute and he was probably as surprised as the people around him that he had added to the conversation for once instead of derailing it.

Enjolras blinked. “That- that's a good idea, actually.”

The beginnings of a smile were forming on his lips and for a few seconds Grantaire couldn't breathe.

“No need to sound so surprised,” he said then, hoping his own surprise didn't show on his face. “Not like it's going to do much good.”

Enjolras shook his head now actually smiling. “If we get one animal adopted that's one animal that we've helped and that is good enough for me,” he told Grantaire, a fire burning in his eyes and Grantaire was unable to look away. This was how Grantaire loved Enjolras, a god filled with passion, ready to obliterate every obstacle in his way and for a second Grantaire believed.

The moment passed as they continued their discussion, moving on to further outlining possible plans. “We're going to have a planning session next week so if you know anyone who'd be interested in volunteering, bring them along,” Combeferre said some time later, ending the meeting.

Marius approached Grantaire with a hesitant smile. He was still a bit scared of Grantaire, something Grantaire obviously found hilarious. “You should ask Eponine,” he said.

Grantaire frowned. “Ask her yourself.”

Marius shook his head. “No, I don't think I should. I mean, I want her to be there but I don't think I should be the one to ask.”

Marius was right, Grantaire realized, not without surprise. Marius inviting her to something would definitely mean additional stress for Eponine, with her making sure she was not going just for Marius. Grantaire nodded, not unimpressed and for the moment ignoring Cosette's smug look of 'ah look at my smart empathetic boyfriend'.

“Sure, I'll ask her then,” he said.

"Yo 'Aire, you wanna come to the Corinth with us?" Bahorel called from the door, Courfeyrac and Jehan next to him, ready to go.

"Can't," Grantaire told him, getting up and downing the rest of his coke. "Gotta get up early tomorrow."

"Work?" Bahorel asked.

"I'm filling in for a friend."

Technically that wasn’t a lie it just left out a lot of the truth. He hadn't talked to Eponine yet about whether to tell the Amis about Gavroche and Azelma and Grantaire was not going to make the decision for her. Grantaire liked this group, even trusted them, and Eponine trusted Marius and was on her way to trusting Courfeyrac, but their past was something neither of them revealed often. Even Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta only knew bits and pieces.

~*~

Grantaire had met Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta in his one year at university before he had dropped out. Having an art degree had been his dream then, maybe just to prove his father wrong, who used to say Grantaire wouldn't be able to get any degree ever. In the end he had been right, since working two jobs plus classes and taking care of two children had proven to be too much. Grantaire had tried to make it work, ultimately giving up after an insanely stressful year. But during his time on campus he had met Bossuet and through them their boyfriend Joly and their girlfriend Musichetta. The three were loving and caring and had adopted Grantaire and Eponine into their midst as if it was nothing. They had been the first real friends Grantaire and Eponine had made since running away. So when Combeferre had asked for them to bring more people along those three had popped into his head immediately.

When they approached the Musain a week later Joly was an excited ball of energy, which could come from his 6 cups of coffee diet he had lived off for the last two days, Bossuet was absentmindedly playing around with the cast of their broken arm and Grantaire was almost as nervous as he had been the first time he had come here. Musichetta, of course, was the personification of coolness, her arm linked with Grantaire's. Eponine was still on her phone with Azelma, dictating her the shopping list since neither she nor Grantaire would have time for grocery shopping today. She hung up with a stern warning about what would happen if Azelma and Gavroche tried to call Montparnasse again, stopping in front of the Musain to smoke one final cigarette before stepping in.

Most of the others were already in the backroom, Courfeyrac being the first to notice when they entered. "Ponine!", he exclaimed happily, already getting up to hug her.

"Hey, Courf," Eponine greeted with an expression of exasperated fondness.

"And you brought people," Courfeyrac said, grinning at Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta. "Hello, people."

Grantaire wished he had the the discipline not to glance over to see Enjolras' reaction, but of course his eyes had automatically started to scan the room for him. Enjolras looked surprised. Of course he would, from Grantaire's behavior at their meetings he had no reason to assume Grantaire cared enough to ask his friends for help. It still stung a bit. He tore his gaze away to address the room at large.

"These are Joly, who you might remember from the hospital, Bossuet and Musichetta," he said pointing at them.

Bossuet gave the room a little wave and Joly grinned, being unable to wave holding both his own and Bossuet's coffee, while Musichetta just blew on her tea still oozing coolness.

"Nice to meet you! I'm Courfeyrac," Courfeyrac said, grinning back at Joly.

That sparked a round of introductions from the others, with Enjolras as the last one. "And we're Les Amis del'ABC," he finished with unironic gravitas, that Grantaire really shouldn't find as endearing as he did.

Bossuet's laughter came suddenly and booming, leaving most of them blinking in surprise. “Seriously?" they asked, laughter sill clear in their voice. "Okay, which of you is the loser who named this group?”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre looked at each other, then they were both pointing at Enjolras.

“What?”, Grantaire asked.

“Les Amis del'ABC. It's a pun,” Bossuet told him excited. “A french pun.”

Enjolras nodded. “My mother is french, actually.”

“Dude, so's my family. I was actually born there before my dad took us to America to find his luck. He's still looking but, hey, what can you do?”

They were grinning wide and Enjolras was actually smiling when he answered. “I've been there only once; in Paris where my mother was born. It's beautiful.”

“My mom is from Paris, too! Man, what are the odds?”

And Bossuet crossed the room to high-five Enjolras with their good arm. It was the most surreal thing Grantaire had seen all week.

With the ice broken Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta fit into the group almost as effortlessly as they started planing out the specifics of their save-the-animal-shelter event. They quickly decided on a two day baking sale, setting the date on weekend six weeks from now.

"Advertisement is key," Combeferre said. "If we want to make sure people actually show up we will need posters and flyers at the end this month at the latest."

"So within the next two weeks," Courfeyrac added when some glanced at their phones to look up today's date. "Feuilly, are you gonna design the posters again?"

Feuilly frowned. "Do you remember how shitty they looked? Give me a canvas and some oil paints and I can make art, put me in front of a PC on the other hand… Are any of you familiar with Photoshop?" he asked, turning to Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta.

Musichetta looked at Grantaire and suddenly he regretted bringing them. "Didn't you do one semester of graphic design at our university?"

Grantaire shrugged. "Yeah, but I quit for a reason," he said, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. He didn't mind the spotlight when he was challenging Enjolras but now he could feel Enjolras' eyes on him without the familiar fury and only curiosity and surprise in them and it was unnerving to say the least. Grantaire still had no idea how to deal with Enjolras the human.

"I was pretty crappy," he said, looking down to where his hands were playing with his coaster.

"Lies!" Joly exclaimed.

"How good you are doesn't even matter," Bahorel said, his face serious. "It's not possible to be worse than this guy. He picked Papyrus as our font," Bahorel told him and Grantaire couldn't help but to flinch at that.

Feuilly crossed his arms, his cheeks red. "It's better than Comic Sans," he mumbled defensive.

"Barely," Bahorel and Grantaire said in unison. They looked at each other and Grantaire couldn't help but grin.

"Okay, Grantaire will design flyers and posters," Musichetta said with finality. "Who's gonna be doing the baking?"

Cosette, Marius, Bahorel, Enjolras, Jehan and Joly all volunteered to make two cakes each and Musichetta agreed to bring and operate her waffle iron. Feuilly said he could do a portray booth and Bahorel wanted a kissing booth, adding a bit to the variety of their set up. Even without settling of a location just yet they were sure to need tents in case it rained and build enclosures for the animals to better advertise them and hopefully get a few of them adopted. Grantaire volunteered for the group that they would send to the shelter to help them clean for the event and for assisting in building the enclosures under Feuilly's instruction together with Eponine and Bahorel. It was almost tempting to get caught up in their optimism and spirit for their plans and for once Grantaire kept his cynicism to a minimum, not wanting to spoil their mood.

~*~

Combeferre, Jehan and Grantaire met up a few days later at the Musain to work out an short info and a rough draft of the flyers and posters. On the surface Combeferre and Jehan were a weird pair, strict professionalism harmonizing with whimsical aloofness. After spending two hours with them Grantaire slowly came to the realization that they were both gigantic nerds and probably the two most morbid people he had ever met. When they had settled on a short info, which Combeferre would send to the group to approve, and two possible drafts for the flyers and posters, they got lost in a very serious discussion about which dead person one should talk to in a seance. At first Grantaire had been surprised that Combeferre was even willing to participate in such nonsense but it was soon clear to him that this was not the first time Jehan and Combeferre had this conversation.

"You can't always go with Shakespeare," Jehan complained. "That's so boring."

"I have serious questions," Combeferre insisted.

"About his existence! You can't actually summon him if he was more than one person."

"Who would you summon then?" Grantaire asked Jehan and their eyes lit up.

"H. P. Lovecraft, no question about it. I mean his story crafting is amazing and the man was a racist train-wreck."

"You sound like Joly when he gets to dissect people," Grantaire told them with a laugh.

"The man was afraid of salad, Grantaire," Jehan went on. "Salad!"

"Huh. Well, salad is one of the more dangerous vegetables," Grantaire mused and Combeferre chuckled, which was sort of weird to see, but a good look on his usually serious features.

"Who would you pick?" Combeferre asked.

Grantaire thought about that for a second. "Thomas Jefferson," he then settled on.

"Really? Why?" Jehan asked surprised.

"I have the mighty need to show him the black, Jewish man who is playing him on Broadway and then probably watch his mind explode."

~*~

Two days later Enjolras, Combeferre and Courfeyrac went out together to Rent-A-Tent, the extremely cleverly named rental service for camping and party tents to inform themselves about prizes and availability. Combeferre and Cosette had already checked with town hall to see if they could have their bake sale in the park, in the same spot they had used for their last event. Surprisingly they didn't run into any opposition this time, though it probably helped that Cosette's father was the mayor.

While Combeferre and Enjolras talked to the person at the counter Courfeyrac was texting Bossuet, who had the most delightful snapchat stories to tell. Courfeyrac was glad about the new addition to their team and really hoped that the three would stay around afterwards. He couldn't help but laugh when he opened the new snap send by Joly this time. It read 'look what u made them do' followed by a sad smiley, the picture showed Bossuet dropping a pan on their foot distracted by their phone in their other hand. Courfeyrac worried for a second but then hoped that Joly wouldn't send snaps if Bossuet was seriously injured. Only seconds later Courfeyrac got another picture showing Bossuet's foot with the band aid sticker slapped over it reading 'im fine'.

"Courf, do you wanna come look at tents?" Enjolras sounded a bit annoyed, probably because all Courfeyrac was currently adding to the situation were his good looks and his amazing hair. Technically his hair was part of his good looks but in his mind it definitely required its own mention. He took great pride in his hair.

"Yeah sure," Courfeyrac said and shoved his phone into his pocket.

Looking at the three example-tents the store had set up in the back didn't take very long and they settled on two of the medium sized ones, booking them for the weekend of the event. Courfeyrac snapped a picture of the tent for Joly and Bossuet.

~*~

Joly had been mostly excited about meeting the people from the haunted house tour again, especially since Grantaire had not really given up much about how things had gone down with them and their blond leader. Grantaire and Eponine kept mostly to themselves which was understandable in some ways but Joly wasn't sure how healthy it would be for the two of them on the long run. So he was relieved when this group turned out to be such a nice bunch, open, loving, and fun, though Joly also couldn't help but worry about whatever seemed to be happening between Enjolras and Grantaire. Their relationship seemed tense, Enjolras annoyed with Grantaire's special brand of dickishness that he showed towards people he wasn't sure how to treat.

Joly was the first to see the finished poster and flyer designs mostly by chance and a little by his own design, dropping by Grantaire's and Eponine's after his shift at the hospital the same day he knew Grantaire said he would be finished with the designs.

"These are amazing," Joly told Grantaire after looking at them on Grantaire's computer.

"The colors probably won't look quite like this and picture is a little shitty and I didn't have as much time as I would have liked but I guess it's alright," Grantaire allowed, which meant that he was actually quite proud.

He looked like he hadn't slept in two days, dark bruises under his eyes, his stubble on it's way to growing out into a full fledged beard and his hair a mess. Joly would lecture him, but Grantaire also was unconsciously smiling a little bit, happy that he had managed to come to a result he deemed decent enough.

"I'm gonna make coffee," Joly said instead.

The only expensive thing in Grantaire's and Eponine's apartment was their coffee machine, the lifeline of their household. Joly, like Musichetta, had at one point gotten the introduction course how to use it and he had to smile every time he used it now, remembering Grantaire telling him that he was now officially part of the family. Obviously Bossuet was part of the family as well but it was also understandable that neither Grantaire nor Eponine wanted them near their precious coffeemaker.

Just as Joly was placing a mug in front of Grantaire the doorbell rang.

"I got it," Joly said, not wanting Grantaire to get up, who seemed ready to fall asleep on his place on the couch.

When he opened the door he was faced with the tall guy Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta had left their cellphone numbers with and whose name Joly had instantly forgotten.

"Oh," he said. "Hello, Joly."

"Hello, come in," Joly said, hoping the guy wouldn't notice how hard Joly was trying to remember his name. He led him inside into the tiny living room, where Grantaire was still slumped on the couch, hoping that Grantaire would greet the guy with his name so Joly wouldn't have to embarrass himself. Grantaire lifted his head as they entered, having a short nod for the guy.

"Yo," he said.

"Hey, Grantaire."

Okay, no luck there.

"Can I get you something? Coffee?" Joly asked.

"That would be lovely, thank you," he said and Joly ducked into the kitchen.

The last thing he heard before he turned on the coffee machine was the guy asking Grantaire if he was alright and Grantaire dismissing him, only half convincing since he was interrupted by a yawn.

Once the coffee was brewed Joly grabbed the milk and the sugar and brought them along to the living room, where the two were rearranging the last few things on Grantaire's designs.

"These are truly amazing," the guy told Grantaire.

"I'm glad I could help," Grantaire said, looking like he wanted to contradict him but knew that it was time to take a compliment for once. "How is everything else coming along?"

"We have permission to use a part of the park," the guy told them. "And we've booked two tents," He turned to Joly. "I think Courfeyrac sent you pictures."

"Ah yeah, he did," Joly confirmed.

His name had been something with C, Joly was about 86% sure.

"How are you paying for all of this?" Grantaire asked.

"Donations mostly."

"Most of you are students, right?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you're not a student activist group then?" Grantaire pointed out. "That way you would get secure funding, right?"

The guy smiled. "We used to be, actually, but there are just so many unauthorized rallies you can attend or organize before you lose that funding."

Grantaire smirked. "Didn't even make it through the first semester then?"

"Pretty much," the guy said with a chuckle, before his face turned a bit more serious. "Thank you so much again for the designs, they're amazing. How come you stopped, if I may ask?"

Grantaire was quiet for a moment, frowning. "I didn't have what it takes," Grantaire finally settled on. Joly was already opening his mouth to contradict him but Grantaire continued. "Graphic design takes more than some fooling around in Photoshop, you need time and ambition and I lacked both."

"I shouldn't have asked, I'm sorry," the guy said.

"It's fine," Grantaire said. "Don't worry about it, Combeferre."

"Combeferre!" Joly exclaimed. Finally.

Combeferre blinked and turned to Joly. "Wha-"

"Unimportant! Continue," Joly interrupted, feeling his face heat up as Grantaire started laughing.

Combeferre still looked a bit confused but he also seemed glad that the tension had been resolved. Once Grantaire had stopped laughing Combeferre proposed to get the designs printed within the next week so they could meet up the following Saturday to distribute the flyers and posters all over the city.

~*~

Grantaire dragged himself home Friday evening, beat from his shift at the workshop. He had covered for a colleague, working three hours longer than usual, and was ready to fall into his bed, oil on his skin be dammed.

"So I've been thinking," Eponine greeted him from the kitchen, where she was doing the dishes. Grantaire took a second to mourn not being able to go to sleep right away, before he took the place next to her to help.

"Happy thoughts?" he asked.

Eponine shrugged, her eyes on the plate she was scrubbing. "We can use every person available tomorrow, right?”, she said. “We could take the kids."

"Huh."

A part of Grantaire wanted to ask if she was sure that was a good idea, wanted to point out that they would be letting the Amis pretty deep into their life, that there could be questions. "It's probably safer than letting the little monsters spend the day here alone," he said instead.

A short laugh escaped Eponine's lips. "I think so too," she agreed.

One of these days they would probably have to have a proper conversation about how much their life had been changing since Grantaire got punched in the face three months ago. Grantaire glanced over to his best friend and Eponine looked about as tired as he felt. They would talk, yes, but not tonight.

Grantaire was woken by a scrawny 10 year old jumping onto him, his knees digging into Grantaire's back knocking all the air out of Grantaire's lungs.

"Urgh, Gav. What the fuck?"

"Swearing in front of a minor... Where are your manners, 'Aire?" Gavroche said from above him.

Grantaire turned, throwing the kid off in the process. It took him some time to sit up, his back hurting and his muscles aching form the additional work of the day before. Once in an more or less upright position Grantaire rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, trying to get his mind to start functioning.

"What do you want, monster?" Grantaire asked.

"Ponine said to wake you, it's 8:30," Gavroche said and Grantaire noticed that the kid was already fully dressed and not sporting his pajamas.

"Ah fuck," Grantaire swore, ignoring Gavroche's scandalized expression.

“Language, 'Aire. Please." Gavroche said shaking his head.

Grantaire ignored him in favor of getting up and dragging himself into the bathroom. When he emerged about 15 minutes later his hair was a damp mess, his face was still unshaven but he was clean.

“Made you coffee,” Eponine said when he entered the kitchen, handing him a mug.

“You're the best,” Grantaire told her, taking the cup. “The actual best person on this planet. I think I love you, 'Ponine,” he continued, only half kidding as he blew on his coffee waiting for it to cool down.

Eponine rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Shut up and drink your coffee, we're already late.”

In the end they managed to arrive only about five minutes late at the Musain where the others were already busy packing the flyers into bags, careful not to wrinkle them. When they entered Grantaire couldn't help but feel a little bit reminded of his first time coming in, surprised eyes now falling on the two children they had in tow.

“Hey, guys,” Grantaire greeted the room in general, leaving all explanations to Eponine who nodded at the room in greeting before introducing her siblings.

“These are my little brother and sister Gavroche and Azelma, they're with me for today and have agreed to help,” she said, which wasn't technically a lie even though it implied a situation far from the truth.

“Hey,” Gavroche said with a grin. The boy was radiating confidence as always, inspecting the room with amusement and slight suspicion. Azelma tried to look just as confident as him, straightening herself to appear taller, though Grantaire didn't miss how she shuffled a bit closer to Eponine.

Half an hour later they had split up into four groups. Enjolras, Feuilly, Courfeyrac and Cosette would go into the city and spend the day handing out about 500 flyers to people passing by while the other three groups, consisting of Joly, Bossuet and Combeferre, Eponine, Gavroche and Bahorel and lastly Grantaire, Azelma and Jehan were all given different routes to go from shop to shop, asking if they could hang up posters and/or leave flyers.

At first Azelma didn't seem too excited about the idea of walking around the city and talking to strangers all day and during the first two shops she just stood behind them, while Grantaire and Jehan explained their cause, trying to convince the people there to let them hang up their posters and leave some flyers behind.

"So Azelma," Jehan said in their usual quiet but pleasant tone. "What grade are you in?"

Azelma who had been walking with her head down almost flinched at the sound of her name before giving Jehan a suspicious glare.

"What's it to you?" she asked in the traditional Thenardier way of evading every personal question with snark and questions of their own.

Jehan blinked surprised before sending an asking look towards Grantaire. Grantaire thought about doing nothing and just waiting to see how far Jehan would get with polite small talk but in the end the idea of spending the day with whatever awkward mess would essentially come out of it seemed definitely not worth the fun. He gently elbowed Azelma in the arm. "Come on, be nice," he said with a chuckle.

Azelma heaved a deep sigh as if it was physically exhausting to talk about school before she spoke. "I'm gonna start High School next year."

"Ah," Jehan said. "Do you have a favorite subject?"

Azelma did. Azelma was almost frighteningly good at math and physics both due to talent and her great interest in the subjects. But her Theandier instincts were still going strong.

"Sure," she said. "It's called lunch break."

"That was quite the favorite of mine as well," Jehan said, ignoring her sarcastic tone.

They reached the next stop on their route and this time Azelma didn't stare at her feet throughout the brief conversation they had with the store manager. She even said 'thank you' along with them when they were given permission to hang up their posters.

"By the way, have I told you yet how amazing I think your posters turned out?" Jehan asked offhandedly as they fixed the two bottom corners of the poster to the shop window. Grantaire felt a rush of pride and embarrassment at the words. He knew that his sloppy last minute poster designs were mediocre at best but Jehan was a nice person and Grantaire didn't feel like dumping his negativity on them.

"Er. Thank you," he said instead.

Azelma nodded in agreement. "I especially like that part," she said and pointed at the right corner, for the first time contributing to the conversation on her own accord, which she seemed to realize when Jehan turned to her and smiled their warm, gentle smile.

"I like that part as well," they said and Azelma blushed, which felt like a normal reaction to Jehan smiling.

Azelma seemed more inclined to talk to Jehan after that. She still gave away as little as possible about herself but she did ask some questions of her own about the ABC and Jehan himself.

“So what do you do?” she asked. “Are you a student?”

"Not really. I take some evening courses in philosophy and literature from time to time,” Jehan said. “But I'm working full time as a kickboxing instructor.”

Azelma was pretty much in love after that. And, hey, if Grantaire was being honest, so was he.

Cosette, Enjolras had realized soon after meeting her, was an amazing addition to their group. She was quick witted and lovely, confident and gentle and she was the only person Enjolras had ever seen being able to overpower Combeferre in an argument. She had earned all of Les Amis respect that day. Seeing her handing out flyers only strengthened the good impression Enjolras had of her since she showed herself to be a tireless worker, charming more people into taking flyers and even into promising to show up than Courfeyrac.

Now it was getting dark and they were on their way back to the Musain, exhausted but happy. Courfeyrac and Cosette had an arm thrown around each other, swaying a bit while walking, while Courfeyrac's other arm was linked with Enjolras'. Enjolras had offered his remaining arm to Feuilly, who had remarked that they looked stupid enough without him.

“We should do something together,” Courfeyrac said.

“We're literally doing something together right now,” Enjolras told him.

“No, something fun. Not cause related,” Courfeyrac clarified.

“Like a haunted house?” Feuilly asked from behind them and Enjolras could hear the grin in his voice.

“Ha. Ha,” Enjolras deadpanned.

“What's wrong with a haunted house?” Cosette asked. “They can be fun. Doesn't 'Aire work at one?”

Both Courfeyrac and Feuilly started laughing. “Oh believe me,” Courfeyrac said. “We know.”

“I'm sensing a story,” Cosette said, a sly smile tugging on the corners of her mouth.

Enjolras considered his options on how to prevent this conversation from happening for a second before giving up. Courfeyrac had his anecdote face on and Enjolras had the distinct impression that should he stop his best friend right now he would see a lot more of that terrible 'My best friend punches people when he's scared' t-shirt to make up for it. And he had just gotten Courfeyrac to stop wearing it.

“We actually met Grantaire at that haunted house tour,” Courfeyrac said. “You could say that some of us even came in close contact with him there.”

Cosette raised an eyebrow at that, while Feuilly was trying to hold in his laughter. “Okay?”

“You know how when scared there is a fight or flight reaction,” Courfeyrac said, letting his sentence trail off.

For a second Cosette looked confused, then her eyes became almost comically huge. “No,” she whispered. “Oh god, who?”

Though she didn't need an answer when her eyes fell on Enjolras. “Oh my god!” she said, and then louder once more: “Oh my god!!”

“Exactly.” Courfeyrac agreed.

“Enjolras punched Grantaire in the face?!” Cosette seemed to have to say it out loud to believe and with a pang of guilt Enjolras remembered. Not the haunted house, Grantaire's wide, impossibly golden eyes and his shocked expression under green-grayish zombie-makeup, when he thought about that moment he usually felt more embarrassment than guilt. No, he remembered the second time he had swung at Grantaire, at the protest when Grantaire had grabbed his shoulder from behind to pull him away from a fight and Enjolras had swung at him as an answer.

At least, he thought bitterly, he got me back for it. We're even now.

“Come on, it wasn't that bad,” Courfeyrac said with a light shove, bringing Enjolras back to the present. “And hey, you even made a friend.”

Are we friends, though?, Enjolras wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.

“It's not my preferred way of meeting people,” he settled on instead, pushing aside all other thoughts.

When they approached the Musain, Eponine, Bahorel and Eponine's little brother, whose name escaped Enjolras at the moment, were standing outside, Eponine finishing a cigarette.

“Hey guys,” Bahorel said, exchanging a complicated handshake with Feuilly that Eponine's brother watched with stars in his eyes. “We were just about to go in as well.”

“Can you teach me that?” the boy asked.

“I'm afraid stuff like that can't be taught, young padawan,” Bahorel said gravely.

For a second the kid seemed to be annoyed at that, then he shrugged. “Didn't look that hard anyway,” he said nonchalantly. In that moment the similarities he shared with Eponine were uncanny, radiating the same smug toughness that seemed to be his sister's default.

They headed inside together where the others were already hanging out, as always in the backroom. Bahorel, still followed by Eponine's brother, headed straight for Jehan, who seemed to have befriended Eponine's other sibling and was currently braiding paper flowers into her hair. When they saw their boyfriend approach they stopped their work though and tilted their head up for a short kiss.

“Ew,” Eponine's brother said at the same time the sister said: “Aww!”

Enjolras' eyes found Combeferre's who lifted two mugs signaling he had gotten Enjolras and Courfeyrac coffee as well.

“God, 'Ferre, you're a saint!” Courfeyrac said crossing the room and taking one of the mugs.

“You're welcome,” Combeferre said with a smile before turning to Enjolras. “All routes have been completed and about 85% of the places we asked agreed to hang up our posters. How did it go on your end?”

“We have about 50 flyers left and a lot of people promised to come,”

Enjolras said taking his mug and taking a sip. It was still hot. Combeferre must have guessed their arrival time from Courfeyrac's snapchat story.

“And that's why we send the pretty people,” Grantaire remarked from behind them. “Well done.”

Instantly annoyed Enjolras turned to him and was met with these golden eyes he always had trouble looking away from, now filled with a familiar challenging glimmer. Enjolras was ridiculously attracted to Grantaire, so why did Grantaire have to be the most insufferable prick on the planet?

“That's not-” Enjolras started before he interrupted himself. He took a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “No, just give me you email address, I'll send it to you.”

Grantaire blinked. “What?”

“What you just said was stupid and I will tell you why in an email since I don't want to spend the entire night arguing with you,” Enjolras said impatiently.

Grantaire seemed to think about that. “Fair enough, weirdo,” he then said with a shrug and dug in his pockets for a pen before writing out his email on a napkin and handing it to Enjolras. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

There was a short silence.

“Ew,” Eponine's brother remarked then.

Bahorel turned to Grantaire. "I like this one," he said.

Grantaire just grinned, knowing and smug and it did things to Enjolras. "I thought you might."

They all went home pretty soon after, Enjolras falling into his bed after a quick shower, exhausted from the day. He woke up at three in the morning, shocked wide awake by a nonsensical nightmare, something about Courfeyrac buying too many gerbils, leaving behind only the cold feeling of dread. Resigning himself to unfortunately being awake Enjolras got up, retrieved his laptop from his desk and returned to his bed.

One angry email about beauty standards and about please for once just thinking about what you're saying, Grantaire! Enjolras was able to go back to sleep, dreaming of nothing and feeling more exhausted than ever when his alarm rang at seven.

~*~

Enjolras joined the shelter cleaning crew spontaneously a day later when his lecture got canceled, remembering too late that this meant spending the day with Grantaire. When he arrived Jehan, Musichetta, Joly, Bossuet, Courfeyrac and Grantaire were already hard at work cooing at the animals. They were all sitting on the floor various cats draped over them.

“Yo, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac greeted him.

“Look, Enjolras,” Jehan said from next to him. “This cat kind of looks like 'Aire, don't you think?”

Under the laughter of of the others, excluding Grantaire who had his eyes cast down, Jehan lifted up a fluffy black kitten with light brown eyes. Wrong brown, was the first thing that popped into Enjolras head but the tiny cat did have the same smug look Enjolras had seen on Grantaire's face various times.

“Kind of, yeah,” he agreed.

“Here, hold him,” Jehan said and before Enjolras could object the kitten was placed into his hands. It was light and warm and-

“Ow!”

The kitten had just bitten into his thumb with all the might this tiny fluff could muster.

“It bit me,” Enjolras said a bit dumbfounded as the others started laughing.

“No surprise there,” Joly said between laughs. “R's a biter as well.”

Yeah, this was going to be a long day.

The little black cat seemed to have declared Enjolras his new family, followed him wherever it could. It even cried out when Enjolras placed it back into its cage and Grantaire wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth and never reemerge again. Not only did he have the most inappropriate crush on a guy miles out of his league he now also had to watch it being portrayed painfully obvious by a tiny black cat. There was a reason why he had picked the work where he wouldn't have to interact with Enjolras outside of an argument. Or so he had thought.

With the arrival of Enjolras they finally managed to get started on cleaning even if they still had to drag Jehan away from lovingly staring at any animal from time to time. They worked well, getting animals that got along out at the same time to each clean one of their cages while the shelter owner, a kind old man by the name of Mabeuf, looked after the animals. There was little silence while they worked, Joly and Courfeyrac both happy to chat away, accompanied by the pop music playing on the radio.

“Yo, R, can you give me a hand?”

Grantaire looked up from the bird cage he was scrubbing to look at Joly who was trying to empty a rather huge litter box into a plastic bag.

“Sure,” Grantaire said and put the cage down and got up to hold the bag open for Joly.

“Thanks, man,” Joly said.

When Grantaire got back to his scrubbing he noticed Enjolras' eyes on him and a shiver went down his spine. The look Enjolras was giving him wasn't disapproving, but curious and thoughtful and everything Grantaire couldn't handle. Grantaire quickly cast his eyes down, trying to focus back on the cage he was cleaning, ignoring the rapid beat of his heart he could hear in his ears.

He did his best to avoid Enjolras' gaze and Enjolras in general after that, which worked out quite well until they got to the two terrariums in the back of the shop. One was host to an gray tarantula called Moses, that had been left inside a shoe-box on the doorstep of the shelter one day, the other to Miriam, an old snake whose recently shed skin was visible behind the glass.

Grantaire who had some experience with snakes had volunteered to clean its cage and just as he was heading back Enjolras put the cleaned bird-feeder down. “Wait, I'll help you.”

For as long as socially acceptable Grantaire tried to think of a reason why Enjolras couldn't and Enjolras used that time take off his scrubbing gloves, get up and lead the way to the backroom where Grantaire found him looking down on Miriam's cage helplessly.

“Do you know anything about snakes?” Enjolras asked.

“I do. Don't worry, Apollo,” Grantaire told him and picked up the biggest of the empty buckets from the shelves around them.

“You've called me that before,” Enjolras remarked. He didn't sound happy about it. Enjolras then stepped away from the cage, making room for Grantaire.

“Probably gonna call you that again even,” Grantaire said. “Here hold this.” And he handed the bucket to Enjolras. Then he opened the cage.

Getting the snake into the bucket turned out to not only be easy, since Miriam was one of the most well behaved snakes Grantaire had ever seen but also hilarious because Enjolras had clearly overestimated himself when he had thought he would be cool with a snake in close proximity. He had his eyes screwed shut as Grantaire carefully lifted the snake into her temporary new home, flinching when he felt the weigh of the snake set in the bucket. It was an adorable sight to behold and Grantaire willed himself not to freak out about that.

“Come on, let me take her,” Grantaire said graciously and took the bucket from Enjolras who visibly relaxed at that.

“Thank you,” he said.

There was an awkward silence after that, with them standing in front of each other both staring down at Miriam who curiously lifted her head over the rim of the bucket but then decided she didn't care enough. After a few seconds, that felt like minutes, Enjolras gave a sharp nod and turned away to grab another bucket.

“So,” he started. “I'm gonna grab my gloves and then take all the snake skin in there.” And he made a vague gesture towards the cage.

Grantaire nodded and Enjolras disappeared for a second, striving back in with his gloves and then started to work on the cage.

“We'll also need to clean her water dish and refill it,” Grantaire told Enjolras. “Mabeuf said the bedding was changed a week ago so we can leave that.”

Enjolras nodded again, very carefully picking up remains of snake skin. Silence fell.

“How come Joly and Bossuet pronounce your name differently?”

The question came out of nowhere and Grantaire flinched from the sudden sound. “What?”

“They call you 'Arr', while Eponine and the others call you 'Aire,” Enjolras explained. “You don't have to tell me, I was just curious.”

For a second Grantaire didn't know what to say. He would never have guessed that Enjolras had noticed that. “No, it's fine. Joly and Bossuet don't call me 'Aire, they call me R. Like the letter.”

Enjolras turned to him as his eyes suddenly got very huge and a surprised laugh escaped his lips. “Oh my god, it's a pun!”

Grantaire shrugged, careful not to disturb Miriam. “Yeah, Bossuet came up with it. It's french, which I don't actually speak-” He interrupted himself when Enjolras almost fell down laughing. Grantaire was pretty sure he had never seen Enjolras laugh and it terrified Grantaire how gorgeous he was even when he snorted while laughing. Or was it just that in Grantaire's eyes Enjolras was always gorgeous? Grantaire really couldn't tell at that point.

~*~

Bahorel often said that it was a truth universally acknowledged that Feuilly was always tired. Feuilly often told him to keep his sarcasm and his Pride And Prejudice references to himself. He wasn't always tired. Though he had to admit that tired and running on coffee did seem like his default state of being and this day was no different.

They met up for the construction of the animal enclosures at the construction site Feuilly and Bahorel worked part time, early on Sunday morning. Feuilly had gotten permission from their boss to use the space and materials for their cause in exchange for Feuilly and Bahorel taking a shift more the week after their bake sale, which was a fair deal. Along with them were Eponine, Grantaire and her brother Gavroche, who looked especially pumped to be here even though he seemed to be trying not to show it too much. The kid had obviously taken quite the liking to Bahorel, as he greeted him with an impressively accurate reconstruction of Feuilly and Bahorel's handshake and Feuilly couldn't help but grin.

They started their work immediately since there was a lot to build and none of them wanted to have to spend a second Sunday on this. It was exhausting work and when the temperature rose with the early noon sun burning down on them Bahorel was the first to take off his shirt, though to be fair it didn't take a lot for the guy to show off his toned muscles and the old scars from the bar fights he sometimes got himself into. Feuilly rolled his eyes when he caught Bahorel flexing but took his own shirt off as well, immediately feeling at least a bit cooler. When they heard the faint bells of a nearby church ring one o'clock Eponine was down to her tank top and jeans and had her dark blond hair in a messy bun.

“Fine,” Grantaire grumbled and took off his shirt as well.

“Dude!” Bahorel said with admiration.

Grantaire's right shoulder was completely covered in dark, sharp lines starting below his color bone on the left side of his chest and making their way over his upper arm and rips to his back and shoulder blade. It almost seemed like a part of his body was covered in dark vines that were giving off an almost poisonous vibe, starting right at his heart and trying to devour the rest of his body. Nothing about the work looked delicate, it rather just looked like it had hurt.

Grantaire seemed almost embarrassed, so Feuilly decided to just nod in agreement with Bahorel before going back to finishing the gate he was working on. He glanced at Eponine to see her reaction to Grantaire's tattoo. She seemed to know Grantaire exceptionally well and Feuilly had gotten the impression that, even though she was very good at not letting her emotions show, her expression was always a good indicator about whether something was going too far in her eyes, especially when it came to Grantaire. When he saw her grinning at Grantaire he relaxed.

They took their lunch break soon after, all of them just sitting down on the ground in the shadow of one of the already drawn up walls of the building that was to be build here and unpacking sandwiches.

“Where did you get that, anyway?” Bahorel asked around a mouthful of bread and tuna. “It looks wicked, man.”

Grantaire made a vague gesture towards his mouth indicating that he couldn't speak right now. It took him a couple of seconds to swallow before he answered. “Thanks. My ex is a tattoo artist and did it for me a while back.”

“It's his own design, though,” Gavroche remarked. “I wish you'd let me get one.”

Eponine hit him lightly on the back of his head for that. “Turn fucking eighteen,” she told him and Bahorel laughed.

“That must have hurt a lot,” Feuilly said, looking at the tattoo again. It almost seemed to move and expand.

“Like hell,” Grantaire agreed. “Especially this.” And he lifted his right arm to reveal the vines on his ribs and on the inner side of his arm. “Worth it, though.”

Bahorel continued to ask some more questions about tattoos while they all finished their food, getting lost in a conversation with Gavroche about what tattoos to get and where that quickly devolved into jokes about inappropriate tattoos. Feuilly called them back to work when Bahorel started telling the story of the actor with the two swallows tattooed on his genitalia.

They were almost finished when Jehan and Courfeyrac decided to drop by around four or five.

“Hello, you all,” Jehan called.

“Loving the view,” Courfeyrac added and Bahorel started flexing again.

When Enjolras picked up his phone after finally finishing the essay that was due two days later he was greeted with an not unsubstantial amount of snapchat notifications from Courfeyrac. Curiously he opened them and was greeted with way too many pictures of a shirtless Grantaire, all broad shoulders and beautifully dangerous tattoo that definitely didn't make Enjolras realize he had a thing for that. All of the pictures had little messages filled with winking emotes on them and one of these days Enjolras was going to have to murder his best friend, there was just no way around it. Tragic.

Enjolras thought about screenshotting at least some of the pictures but there was no way in hell Enjolras was going to give Courfeyrac the satisfaction.

~*~

Courfeyrac made his dare of a night out true the following Saturday after the meeting, by proposing they all should go somewhere for a drink together.

“You got anything specific in mind?” Combeferre asked with half a smile.

“Doesn't the Corinth still do karaoke nights?”

“Courfeyrac, no!”

“Courfeyrac, yes!”

But Joly's and Jehan's eyes had lit up at the word karaoke and Combeferre too could see he was fighting a lost battle here and so most of them tagged along for drinks and karaoke. Enjolras didn't really mind, he never really did, but he couldn't help but worry about the dark tension between himself and Grantaire that had been building ever since they had cleaned out the shelter, worse than their former aggressive disagreements had ever been.

And so they made their way to the Corinth, a bar just a few blocks down the street and their usual destination when Courfeyrac and Jehan decided it was time to go out again, or when Bahorel decided he wanted to get into a fight with some idiots. The Corinth was located in the basement of an old building and was by no means a nice place. Nonetheless they flocked there for the cheap cocktails, the rough but usually kind atmosphere and the ridiculous karaoke nights.

"Oh man, I love this place," Grantaire said when they arrived. "Didn't know it had a name though."

"Jehan asked once because it kept bothering them," Courfeyrac explained as he opened the door and led them all down the metal staircase to the old green door that simply said 'open' and from which the music of the bar was already audible.

They all entered, Joly and Bossuet curiously looking around since it was their first time here.

"Decent place," Musichetta remarked with a pleased nod.

Enjolras and Combeferre made their way to their usual table, while most of the others went up to the bar to order. With the easy charm Courfeyrac talked to everyone he immediately chatted up the girl behind the bar probably asking about the karaoke machine, that had been set up in its corner and for the moment seemed not to be in use. That quickly changed though after Bahorel, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet and Jehan started with shots and then Bahorel and Courfeyrac started their first terrible duet of The Time of my Life from Dirty Dancing. And if the excited and happy shimmer in Courfeyrac's eyes was anything to go by it would be the first of many.

Combeferre soon migrated over to the bar and lost himself in a conversation with Feuilly and Enjolras spend the night mainly watching his friends, something he was as usual very content with. He noticed that he really liked Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta, all three wonderful people that he was glad he had met. It should be weird how easily this group had formed into something bigger, but it wasn't it was just nice. It felt right. The same way it had felt right when Grantaire had started showing up for their meetings or when Eponine had started to befriend Courfeyrac and Enjolras couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was how they all belonged.

Enjolras was nursing his second cocktail when his eyes found Grantaire before he even realized that he had been looking for him. And now that his eyes had found him Enjolras couldn't quite look away. Grantaire and Jehan were singing something Enjolras didn't know - it seemed to be a terribly tragic love song going by their performance - and Enjolras was glad that he was sitting deep enough in the shadows to not be seen from the little stage. Grantaire was putting his all into the performance, gesturing and throwing his head, making his wild curls stand up even wilder. The pictures Courfeyrac had send him were still fresh in Enjolras' mind and he finally tore his eyes away again.

"Aww, look at you," Courfeyrac cooed from next to him and Enjolras flinched. He hadn't even noticed Courfeyrac sitting down next to him. He was slurring his words a bit and seemed on his best way to drunk, but his eyes were still sharp and his grin was sly. Enjolras tried to hide his embarrassment behind his cocktail and drank a few sips.

"You want to give him things, like blow jobs and better self-esteem!" Courfeyrac continued and Enjolras accidentally breathed in some of his cocktail. He coughed and snorted some our through his nose before glaring at Courfeyrac.

"You can't just say that!" he scolded as he felt his face heat up.

"Maybe," Courfeyrac said with half a laugh. "Doesn't make it less true, though."

Enjolras looked away, not ready to confirm or deny Courfeyrac's words.

"It kinda sucks, doesn't it?" Courfeyrac added, his tone quieter and more serious, and Enjolras turned back to him.

Courfeyrac had his eyes cast down at the table, his expression carefully blank but Enjolras knew him well enough to see the sadness and annoyance Courfeyrac seemed to be feeling. Enjolras was about to open his mouth unsure what to say, when Bahorel fell down next to Courfeyrac with three shots.

"Here chief," he said putting one in front of Enjolras as well.

"Chief?" Enjolras asked and Courfeyrac laughed, genuinely amused by Enjolras' confusion and Enjolras smiled as well. He was going to ask Courfeyrac about this soon, but for now Enjolras was happy Courfeyrac was smiling again.

~*~

Most of their Les Amis meetings were now centered around the baking sale but one Saturday evening Grantaire was greeted by a very serious Enjolras and the PowerPoint presentation '”Beauty Standards” and the harm they do'.

“I knew I shouldn't have answered that E-mail,” Grantaire said getting a laugh from Jehan and a glare form Enjolras.

He fell into his seat bracing himself for whatever Enjolras had cooked up now. As it turned out Enjolras had not only prepared slide over slide about how harmful things are enforced by the smallest comments but also devoted a few to how everyone was beautiful and tips how to love and accept themselves. About five slides into this part of the presentation Grantaire couldn't stand it anymore, seething with annoyance and anger.

“Do you really think that this is something you should be commenting on?” he interrupted, his voice colder than it had been for a while during his and Enjolras' fights.

Enjolras frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“God, Apollo, don't-”

“That is not my name!” Enjolras interrupted.

Grantaire continued a bit louder, ignoring Enjolras' words. “Don't make me say it. You are aware what you look like.”

Enjolras drew his eyebrows together, his whole body tensing up. “What are you playing at?”

“You're a skinny white boy with a pretty face. Do you really think you have anything to say about what people face-”

“You can't dictate how I feel about myself!”

Enjolras was just not getting it. “I'm not saying you can't feel bad about yourself I'm saying you're not exactly the poster child for the backlash ugly people face,” Grantaire told him angrily.

“It's speech like that that is just toxic-”

“Oh my god, there are people who are ugly and there are people who are pretty. Me using these words has less of an impact than the actual impact conventionally attractive people have when they talk about bullshit like 'just love yourself'. 'Cause that shit is not helpful, it makes it worse and that is not something you of all people is gonna change!”

Enjolras was so furious he was shaking. “Just get out.”

“You can't think of a proper response so you're kicking me out?”

“If you don't want your nose to be broken again you will leave now.”

Grantaire was very tempted to just see if Enjolras would punch him again, but then he felt Eponine's fingers digging into his arm and he got up.

“Very mature, Apollo,” he threw over his shoulder as he left the room, Eponine at his heels. They left the cafe in silence, Grantaire taking the cigarette his best friend offered.

“Fuck him,” Eponine said and Grantaire loved her so much he honestly felt like he could cry right now. It was possible that there were other reasons for the tears burning in his eyes but if so he was not going to acknowledge them.

“I'm trying,” Grantaire said, a weak attempt at being funny.

Grantaire managed to stay away from Enjolras and keep quiet at meetings for the next few weeks. There was no attempt at communication from Enjolras' side either and Grantaire was honestly very glad about that. Things got even more uncomfortable, when they met up Friday morning of the weekend their baking sale was happening. The tents had already been set up yesterday by the Rent-A-Tent people and now all they had to do was get their tiny compounds to the park as well, so Grantaire, Feuilly, Bahorel and surprisingly Enjolras showed up for the heavy lifting. Cosette had wanted to come along as well but she had some lectures that day that she couldn't skip.

After a quick hello they started to fill Feuilly's pick up truck with as many parts as possible and Grantaire noticed with some surprise that Enjolras was pretty strong. How he had assumed he wouldn't be after Enjolras had broken his nose on the day they'd met was a mystery to Grantaire. Neither of them talked much, both listening to Bahorel and Feuilly's bickering rather than participate or talk to each other.

"You need any help with that, ginger?"

Feuilly just answered with an annoyed grunt, while he carefully supported the enclosure Grantaire was pushing off Feuilly's truck. Bahorel and Enjolras were currently setting up one of their cage constructs designed for the seven bunnies from the animal shelter. Bahorel gave them a critical look over before turning to Enjolras.

"Go help your husband, I got this here."

"Ex husband!" Feuilly corrected at the same time Enjolras said: "Vegas was over a year ago, let it go, Bahorel!"

Grantaire almost dropped the enclosure on Feuilly. It was a good thing Enjolras had reached them already to help Feuilly balance the weight.

“You two were married once?" Grantaire couldn't help but ask. "In Vegas?"

"It was immediately annulled so it doesn't technically count." Enjolras replied and going by the sour expression on his face he was more than discontent with Grantaire commenting on this glorious new piece of information.

Feuilly made a mock offended noise at that. "I am hurt Enjolras. Hurt."

"Yeah, that's no way to talk to your lawfully wedded husband," Bahorel chimed in.

Enjolras let out a long suffering sigh.

When Bahorel took his shirt off some time later Grantaire prayed to all gods he could think of for Enjolras to not do the same. He was not in luck.

~*~

Saturday, first day of their baking sale, turned out to be a warm, bright day, with barely any clouds in the sky and lots of people flocking to their tents. It was busy throughout most of the day and at noon Grantaire was already exhausted from smiling at people and selling them baked goods while telling them without irony what a good cause they were contributing to. When Bahorel took over his place, Grantaire slipped away immediately to one of the benches for a smoke. Only when he sat down did he realize that Joly had followed him.

“I thought you might want some company,” Joly said, sitting down next to him.

Grantaire didn't have it in him to point out that he didn't think he would be good company himself, so he just shrugged. Joly smiled and moved a bit closer, his shoulder resting against Grantaire's. They sat in comfortable silence until Bossuet approached them, taking the place on Grantaire's other side. There was a bit frosting on their nose and Grantaire could feel Joly twitch, itching to wipe it away.

“Man that shit is exhausting,” Bossuet said with glee, stretching their arms over their head before letting one rest around Grantaire's shoulders.

“Tell me about it,” Grantaire agreed.

“Love, you have a bit of cupcake on your nose,” Joly said.

Bossuet tried wiping it away with their thumb, missing it completely. “Did I get it?”

“Yes,” said Grantaire and Joly elbowed him lightly.

Grantaire could feel himself relaxing as they watched the others work, Bahorel making out with Jehan at the kissing booth, Combeferre talking to an elderly couple looking to adopt a dog, Courfeyrac charming people into buying some muffins, Enjolras talking to Feuilly at the portray booth, Eponine and Musichetta cleaning the waffle iron, Marius and Cosette laughing together while playing with the kittens, while Gavroche and Azelma played catch with some other kids a bit further away.

“How the hell did I end up here?” Grantaire asked.

“Well,” Joly said. “Going by your text, a Greek god punched you in the face.”