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July 17 (14) : Bailey's
Grantaire frowns at the bottle. They are all in a circle on Bahorel's bedroom floor, and his friends are looking to him earnestly as the only one among them with drinking experience. "Guys, this won't even get us that drunk and it's really gross straight--"
Bahorel bristles. "It was the only thing that wasn't locked in the cabinet!"
"Are you sure this isn't spoiled?" This from Joly, who grabs the bottle and is searching for an expiration date, turning it around. Grantaire snatches it back and Lesgles eyes it tentatively.
"... can it spoil? I didn't know it was milk-based and I'm--"
"Oh come on--" Bahorel, finally, pours it into five of his parents' Notre Dame shot glasses. Joly takes his as if it might be radioactive and smells to reassure himself. Lesgles pats him on the back. Grantaire and Courfeyrac share a look. Bahorel draws his eyebrows together. "Well men, there's nothing else for it. Let's fuckin destroy this."
As it turns out, it's spoiled, something they do not discover until Courfeyrac wakes up at five in the morning with explosive diarrhea. Bahorel's house only has three bathrooms. None of them ever touch Bailey's again.
May 30 (25) : Patron
Cosette checks that it's okay with Grantaire first.
"Cosette Fauchelevent, I will pour the tequila myself."
She puts a hand on the side of his face and looks incredibly fond of him for a moment, which makes him look at the dart board on the other wall, the mirrored beer sign, anything. Then she grins and kisses his cheek and proceeds to lick Enjolras's neck. Grantaire is impressed and unsurprised with the daintiness she manages to bring to body shots.
Enjolras is shockingly game, having had his customary two-beers-only and getting a little pink in the cheeks from it--when Grantaire puts the lime in his mouth, they're both giving each other the you-okay look and Grantaire smiles sheepishly and steps back. Enjolras leans his neck up with an amused, fond smile for Cosette, which makes Grantaire's cheeks turn pink.
It's a neck. He's seen it before. He has not seen Cosette salt and lick it before. He's never paid much attention to Cosette licking things before but on this night, three nights before they all have an appointment with the Justice of the Peace, it hits him like a ton of bricks that Marius is a lucky man. She moves beautifully and he idly observes the lines, the way the yellowish lighting of the dive bar highlights her irradiated dark curls, watching her cheeks dimple.
He has to look away when Cosette takes the lime out of Enjolras's mouth with her own. He's like 87% certain she just slipped his boyfriend the tongue, and he's weirdly okay with it.
November 3 (16) : Smirnoff Razz
It's totally not the kind of alcohol that's meant to be taken straight. Some girl had left it at Courf's the weekend before, and he'd gamely offered to take it off Courf's hands--wouldn't want your parents finding it, mine don't check, the usual.
Somehow, he feels like if he's going to drink alone in his parents' empty McMansion, finding ice and Sprite to dull the edge only makes it more pathetic.
September 14 (22) : Buttery Nipple
"Courf, I can't fucking believe you actually ordered a buttery nipple, you hate Bailey's and what the fuck are you, a sorority girl from the 90s--"
Courf shakes Grantaire, companionable arm around his shoulders. "It'll be fun!" Music pounds and Grantaire laments letting Courfeyrac convince him to come, but when his friend grins lopsidedly he can't help the rush of affection, the kind that comes from long acquaintance. "We haven't done a shot together since we were sixteen. It's time," he says with false seriousness. Something twists in Grantaire's chest. This is why he's stayed friends with Courf. He's a good fucking guy. It's less endearing when he starts chanting the words: shots shots shotsshotsshots--
"Fine, one buttery nipple." A triumphant whoop.
When the bartender sets the shots down, Grantaire takes his immediately. He remembers the burn but sets the thought aside. When he looks back to Courfeyrac, his friend is staring in abject horror, shot unconsumed. "What? I took it."
"You broke every rule of shot-taking etiquette! You ruined it! You ruined our first shot together in five years! " He gesticulates wildly, running fingers through his hair, which falls back into perfect tousled curls.
"It's a shot, Courfeyrac, not--"
Courfeyrac literally puts his hand over Grantaire's mouth, tips his head to take his own shot, and slams it on the bar counter. "We're fixing it right now. Bartender! Two more."
Leaned against each other on the subway four shots later, Courfeyrac grumbles, "I can't believe you beefed it. You fucking beefed it, Grantaire."
April 8 (13) : Jack Daniel's
He coughs it down surrounded by laughing older kids, eyes watering. "Little dude can't take it--"
"I fucking can too!" He grabs the bottle and chugs.
He makes sure none of them see him throw up behind a bush later that night.
*
"One glass or two?" The waiter looks to Enjolras, who looks to Grantaire. "You're sure?" The serious consideration on Enjolras's face makes Grantaire's stomach turn.
"Yeah." He's mostly telling the truth.
"Two glasses," Enjolras confirms, and the waiter moves off towards the back of the restaurant. They talk idly about their classes, major declaration, Courfeyrac and Jehan's recent breakup. The wine comes and Grantaire looks at it very seriously.
"You're the one in charge. If you want to stop, we'll stop and just have the water." Grantaire reaches for his glass. Enjolras does the same, smiling. "To your twenty-first."
Grantaire holds eye contact the whole time, warmth settling over him.
"To my twenty-first."