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They’re somewhere in Barcelona for Combeferre’s final PhD presentation and Grantaire is wearing a ridiculous sombrero for some reason (even though it makes no sense because sombreros are definitely mexican) when Enjolras, already mid-rant about how important it is not to get different cultures mixed-up just because they speak the same language, takes a good, hard look at Grantaire, from his pink flip-flopped feet to the equally pink sombrero on his head and realizes that yes, he is in love with that idiot, pink sombrero and all.
Which should probably elicit a reaction other than ‘well, that does explain a lot’, but Enjolras isn’t usually in the habit of lying to himself and if he’s being honest to himself, it’s really not that surprising.
He doesn’t really see the point in fighting it - and by the way Grantaire sometimes looks at him, suspects Grantaire doesn’t want him to fight it, either - so he decides to just go with it. Which his traitorous brain decides to translate as “Grantaire loves amusement parks - take him to one and seduce him there”.
Enjolras really wishes he could kick his brain sometimes, because it forgets to take into consideration the fact that Enjolras has a small problem when it comes to heights. And by small problem Enjolras means that he’s terrified of them.
Which wouldn’t be so bad if the moment they set foot on the amusement park Grantaire hadn’t dragged him to something called “Hurakan Condor”.
“What is that even supposed to be?” Enjolras asks with a frown.
“Hurakan Condor is the best thing you will ever experience in your entire life. Apart from sex, of course,” Grantaire says, wagging his eyebrows suggestively and tugging Enjolras along.
“But - “ Enjolras tries to say, when he finds himself staring at a 100-meter tall tower.
“Shush,” Grantaire quiets him. “We’re going to do something very, very mean and try to flirt our way to the front so we don’t have to wait in line.”
“That’s really not fair to everyone else, Grantaire. Would you like it if - “
“Oh, fine,” Grantaire sighs tiredly. “You stand here and look pretty. I’ll go flirt.” Off he goes to flirt with the first member of the staff he can find, as Enjolras stares uneasily at the tower. He doesn’t like it and it doesn’t look like it likes him back either. He knows it’s supposed to be a simple drop tower, where you are carried in a car right to the top and then the car is released to free-fall down its entire length. All 100 meters of it.
Why Grantaire wants to put himself through that is completely beyond Enjolras.
Why Grantaire wants to put Enjolras through that is also completely beyond Enjolras.
Why Enjolras isn’t running in the opposite direction as fast as his legs will carry him is, surprisingly, not completely beyond Enjolras - he’s quite sure he can blame it completely on the way something warm and happy spreads lazily across his chest every time Grantaire smiles happily up at him.
Enjolras is just beginning to question his judgment in letting Grantaire go off to flirt with someone from the staff when the other man returns with a wicked smile on his face.
“Got us a seat in the next one,” he says, practically bouncing on his heels. “Come on.”
“What did you have to do?” Enjolras asks, horrified.
“Well, he asked for my phone number so -”
“You gave him your phone number?” Enjolras snaps at him, trying - and failing - to fight the jealousy he can feel settle in his stomach.
“Of course I didn’t give him my number, who do you take me for?” Grantaire asks, feigning offense. “I gave him Marius’s number.”
“You’re evil,” Enjolras says with a chuckle, visibly relaxing.
“You like it,” Grantaire says confidently and actually grips Enjolras’ hand to pull him along. “Now, come on. You wouldn’t want to miss our turn.”
“No, wouldn’t want that at all,” Enjolras mutters under his breath, so low that Grantaire doesn’t hear him.
Then he’s stepping into the the tower car and putting on the security belts and going up up up and he can feel his heart trying to leap out of his chest and why the Hell did he ever think this was a good idea, why couldn’t he just have tried to woo Grantaire with flowers or love songs or other silly things normal people do when in love?
Because Grantaire isn’t normal, his traitorous brain supplies, he’s very, very special, and if he wants amusement parks then you’ll give him amusement parks.
Oh, fuck off, Enjolras tells his brain.
“Okay there, Apollo?” Grantaire asks, as the damned car finally stutters to a stop, right on top of the tower.
“Um,” Enjolras says through gritted teeth, staring straight ahead and completely refusing to look down. “I may have forgotten to mention that I’m sort of afraid of heights.”
“What?” Grantaire asks, staring at him with impossibly wide blue eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here, then?”
“Interesting question. See the thing is - oh, fuck.” The seats lean forward and Enjolras finds himself instinctively grabbing Grantaire’s hand across the seat dividers.
“Enjolras?” Grantaire asks, lacing their fingers together.
“I’m about to die, aren’t I?” Enjolras asks, nodding to himself. “It’s okay, just - I think I’m in love with you. No, that’s not it - I know I’m in love with you.”
The moment Grantaire turns to stare at him, disbelief clear in his face, is also the moment the seats finally drop and Enjolras finds himself free falling.
--
“In case anyone hasn’t told you, Apollo, you really have been spending far too much time with Courfeyrac,” Grantaire says helpfully when they both have their feet back on the ground. “I mean, there’s being dramatic and then there’s being - “
“I really fucking hate you,” Enjolras says, even though he doubts Grantaire will believe it, specially considering Enjolras still hasn’t let go of his hand.
“No, you don’t,” Grantaire offers with a lazy smile and Enjolras has to resist the urge to lunge for him. “Do I get to ask you out on a date now or do you actually want to see if you can give yourself a heart attack by going through the other rides?”
“I thought this was a date,” Enjolras says. “I mean, it is two people hanging out together and I have already told you I’m in love with you.”
Grantaire gives him a considering look. “Fine, you can say this was our first date. But, on our anniversary, when we tell the story the story of how we got together, I’m telling everyone you broke my hand on top of a drop tower.”
“Anniversary?” Enjolras asks, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “Isn’t it a bit too soon to be talking about anniversaries, seeing as I haven’t even kissed you yet?”
“Then maybe you should,” Grantaire suggests and Enjolras is all too happy to oblige him.