Work Text:
It took Grantaire three years, three whole years, before he asked Enjolras on a proper date. Enjolras laughed, not unkindly, and asked what took him so long. Grantaire was caught between wanting to throttle him and wanting to kiss him. The second option proved to be the better idea.
They’d only officially been together for two and half months (no, Grantaire absolutely was not keeping count), and Grantaire had something he wanted to ask him. He’d been thinking about it for a while, unsure of what to say or how to ask for it.
“Enjolras…” he began, waiting for him to put down the book he’d been reading and look at him. “I was wondering if, maybe – and feel free to say no – if, maybe, you’d consider sitting for me sometime. So I could paint you.”
The other man appeared to be considering for a moment, before smiling and replying, “Of course. I’d be glad to. When did you have in mind?”
“Oh, um, just whenever. Whenever you have the time. I know you’re busy a lot, and just…whenever you can.”
“How about tomorrow night?” he asked, smiling gently. “I’ll make sure I’m home in the evening and you can take as much time as you need to, yeah?”
Grantaire nodded, grinning. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great. Thank you. For doing this, and everything.”
Enjolras crossed the room and kissed him gently in response. “All you have to do is ask.”
*~*~*~*
Grantaire spent the day gathering and setting up his supplies. In sharp contrast to his normally laissez-faire lifestyle, when painting, he was incredibly meticulous. He laid out paints, brushes, everything he would possibly need, and spent a good amount of time simply studying the canvas, visualizing what he wanted to create. He had a general idea of what he wanted, one he’d tried to recreate from memory many times, but none of them did his subject justice. Maybe it would be different this time, he thought, with Enjolras right in front of him, instead of just in his mind’s eye.
*~*~*~*
Enjolras returned home to an unusually quiet apartment. “Grantaire?”
“I’m in here!” he called. The apartment had a spare room, which Enjolras used as a study and Grantaire used as a studio. Enjolras was somewhat surprised to see that Grantaire had everything laid out already, but he’d never actually seen him paint like this. He’d seen him sketch and create protest signs, but never serious painting. He was curious.
“If you just want to sit down, that’s fine,” Grantaire said, motioning to the chair he’d placed against the wall. He’d spent some time thinking about whether he wanted him standing or sitting, near the wall or away from it, and whether or not he wanted to use the actual wall as the backdrop. He’d decided that the wall was good enough, having opened a window to let some light in and deciding that he liked the way the light would strike the person near the wall.
“I thought you might be more comfortable sitting,” he continued. “Just however you normally sit is fine, just as long as you’re comfortable. This may take a while, but I’ll try my best. Do you need anything before we start?” Grantaire was babbling and he knew it, but he was irrationally nervous about this, for reasons he couldn’t quite name.
“I’m good,” Enjolras smiled. He sat, legs crossed, in the chair, seemingly very relaxed.
“Can you lean back in the chair a little? Not exactly slouching, but…yeah. Just like that. Great. That’s great.”
“Can I talk to you, or…?”
“Oh, shit, sorry, yeah, um, if you want to, for now. I can put on some music or something, if you want.” Grantaire rummaged through a stack of papers and books, finally coming up with his battered laptop and flipping it open. “I’m really not sure what music you like, so it’s just on shuffle for now, so…” Grantaire stepped behind the canvas once more. “I’m gonna ask you a little later to not talk for a while, no offense meant, or anything, but I’m gonna have to paint your face…”
“No offense taken,” Enjolras laughed.
Grantaire smiled. “All right. Let’s get started, yeah?”
*~*~*~*
Grantaire had been afraid that Enjolras would be bored. In fact, he was far from it. He took the time he was given to study Grantaire.
Enjolras had never seen him like this, so focused, so intent, on one object, one goal. He was studying the canvas, paintbrush in hand, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Brushing his hair back from his forehead, he left a streak of red paint behind. He didn’t appear to notice, but Enjolras did, and he wondered if this was a common occurrence when he was painting. Did he leave behind traces of paint on his skin after all of his projects? He took a moment to picture it: Grantaire, splattered in a rainbow of colors, standing with that satisfied smile on his face in front of a canvas.
Poking his head around the side of the canvas, Grantaire asked, “What’s the smile for?”
“Sorry,” he apologized, not meaning it at all. “Did I mess you up?”
“No. I’ve been done with your face for a while, actually. First thing I did.”
“Does this mean I can talk to you now?”
“If you’d like to.” He ducked back behind the canvas, resuming his work.
“How does it look?”
Grantaire hummed noncommittally. “I accomplished what I set out to accomplish, but whether I’ll actually like the end result depends on how it all looks when I finish it…” He stepped back from the canvas, studying it at a distance, before returning to it. “Comfortable?” he asked absentmindedly after a moment.
“I’m fine,” Enjolras replied, shifting slightly in his chair. He’d been sitting for who knew how long, and he was only now beginning to grow uncomfortable. His left leg was falling asleep and he longed for movement.
“Great,” Grantaire replied, smiling. “I’m almost finished.”
Enjolras smiled back, ignoring the pins and needles in his leg.
*~*~*~*
Grantaire was finally satisfied. He’d done all he could do, and overall, he was rather pleased with the finished product. Smiling slightly, he stepped out from behind the canvas.
“If you want to, um, take a look at it…it’s finished…” Grantaire said softly, suddenly a bit nervous about showing Enjolras what he’d created.
Enjolras smiled back. He was genuinely excited to see this. Getting up from the chair and crossing to the portrait proved to be a little difficult, as his now entirely numb leg seemed to want to drag him down to the floor. Grantaire laughed softly when Enjolras almost ran into some cans of paint, but reached out and grabbed his elbow, steadying him.
It was beautiful. It was almost like looking into a mirror, if said mirror magnified everything someone else found beautiful about you. The figure in the painting (it was him, he had to remind himself) was so incredibly lifelike that he half believed that it would get up from the chair and walk up to him to ask why he was staring so.
“Grantaire, this is…”
Grantaire bit down on his bottom lip, thinking. “I know it’s maybe not the best, but with the time I had, I just kind of…well, it’s not so much thrown together, I mean, I’m pleased with the end result, but I obviously wasn’t going to have you sit for me for four hours, I think the time that you were sitting was long enough…” Mentally, he kicked himself for babbling like an idiot. “I don’t know if you’d noticed it, but the way the light hit your face was perfect, it kind of gave you this interesting expression, and I tried to capture that, but I’m not sure I did…it looked almost like longing, sort of, and I hope that came across, because I’ve never seen that look on your face before.”
“It’s beautiful,” Enjolras interjected, stepping closer to the finished painting. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“R-really? You really think so?” Grantaire asked, frowning slightly.
“I haven’t ever seen anything like this. I’ve never seen any of your serious work, which is a shame, and we really need to rectify that, because this is gorgeous. I had no idea you were so incredibly talented.”
“I don’t know about that,” he replied, blushing slightly.
“It’s true. I want to see everything you’ve ever painted, because if they’re anything like this…and if you want, I completely agree to sitting for you for four hours, or for however long you need me for, if you’re not entirely happy with this one. But why wouldn’t you be? I mean, it’s…it’s amazing,” Enjolras continued.
Grantaire smiled, still blushing. “I’m glad you like it. Y-you can have it, if you want. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I finished it, because I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about me showing it, but it can just stay here in the studio, if you want.”
Enjolras smiled widely. “You should frame some of your paintings. Hang them up in here. If you want. It might be nice to have something to look at sometimes while I work.”
Smiling back, Grantaire nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Yeah, we could do that…”
Enjolras crossed to Grantaire, pulling him into his arms. He leaned down, kissing him softly. Pulling back, he swiped his thumb across Grantaire’s forehead. “You’ve got a little paint…”
The other man laughed, holding up his hands. “I think I have a little paint everywhere.” His hands were littered with shades of brown, blue, and gray, with the occasional speck of white or black thrown in for variety. “And I think I got some paint on your shirt as well…Sorry…” There had been a splotch of red paint on the front of his t-shirt that had transferred to the front of Enjolras’s.
“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “We match.”