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“…It’s love. Pure, tender and respecting as love should always be. I think it’s obvious for everyone who’s known them Marius and Cosette make an outstanding couple” Enjolras looks at them in the middle of his toast. They’re both smiling brightly at him, Marius stealing little glances as if he couldn’t stand looking apart from her, who’s looking stunning in her wedding dress.
Around them everything looks equally splendid, the tables with silk tablecloths, large windows with elegant curtains and the chandelier illuminating the room with a warm, beautiful light.
“I hope they’ll be as happy as they deserve, not everyone is as lucky as them. Actually, not everyone is as lucky as us, lucky enough to spare a night to celebrate with our friends.” He turns to the crowd now, changing the tone of his voice for a more serious one, very pointedly ignoring the way Courfeyrac is rolling his eyes at him and how Bossuet sighs heavily, sinking into his seat. “There are people out there” He continues, pointing to the door “Who suffer from hunger and illness and not even in our happiest moments should we forget about it if we intent to make a difference for them…”
Somewhere in the public somebody snorts.
Rude.
The room is quiet enough that even the little huff of air reverberates around like thunder, creating an awkward atmosphere around the place. Enjolras glares in the general direction of the crowd, inspecting the elegantly dressed multitude, not sure of how to proceed and then… a man pops out suddenly from the middle of the mass of tables and chairs.
Enjolras stares openly at him, analyzing the man. From the rough stubble that’s close to become a full beard to the messy dark hair that Enjolras totally doesn’t find attractive, he doesn’t. He’s wearing a dinner jacket that’s a little big on him, and his shirt is half unbuttoned (not that Enjolras noticed) and he has been drinking, it seems, a glass of wine in his hand and his big green eyes watery and unfocused.
“Sorry, sorry” the man says, shrugging bashfully “It’s just… you don’t really believe that, do you?”
Enjolras can´t keep his eyebrow from shooting up incredulously at the words (though, to be fair, he didn’t try that hard).
“What exactly should I not believe? If you care to explain” He asks.
The guy looks at him for a moment, the corners of his mouth starting to quirk up slightly, eyebrow mirroring Enjolras’s own.
“Well, that any of this people will give a shit, to begin with” He says matter-of-factly “In case you haven’t noticed they’re ignorant and happy, and most likely to choose to remain that way. And even if they didn’t, their good intentions and a couple of dollars aren't going to fix anything. ”
“It can, if enough people contribute and-“
“Please” The man interrupts “That’s barely true, especially the way charities operate currently, where less than half of the donations actually get to their final destination, if it ever gets there.”
He’s heard this before, all of it, but never has it bother him so much. Of course, it has never been pointed at him after being interrupted during a public speech, either.
"Who says so? You?" Enjolras challenges.
"Facts say so, my dearest idealist. But, hey-!” The guy says, raising his hands up in mock surrender “I’m not going to stop you from trying to be the knight in a shining armor. You even have the looks for it."
Was that a compliment? An insult? Enjolras doesn’t even know.
"You're assuming I'm doing this for my ego, but not everyone is as needy for attention as you are." He deadpans at the end.
The other man scolds for a moment, taking a big gulp of his half empty glass of wine and opening his mouth to speak again.
"Okay, that's enough" Combeferre says before he gets a chance to reply to Enjolras, voice amused and standing in between the two of them. When did they get so close to each other, Enjolras has no idea.
Just then he takes his eyes apart from the other man, looking around him dazzled and remembering suddenly where he is. He’s made a scene, he realizes nervously.
Fuck, Cosette is so going to kill him for this.
"I think you both need to cool down, maybe you should go out.”
Enjolras watches the man as he walk away from him, stopping at his table to finish his glass of wine in one go. His eyes linger momentarily over where Enjolras is standing, but when he turns away to leave he doesn’t look back a single time.
He’s unable to move, glued to his spot, until the lean figure disappears through the big crystal door. Once he finally regains the use of his legs Enjolras looks around the room, all the eyes fixed on him, before grabbing his jacket, heading out too.
He is definitely not disappointed when he gets out and there is no sign of the guy anywhere around.
_
Later, he asks Marius about “the random guy who interrupted his speech”, not daring to talk to Cosette yet in case she didn’t find the episode as funny as the rest of their friends.
It’s pointless; Marius has no idea who he is. Courfeyrac, sitting at the other side of the table, smirks at him with a knowing look.
He ends up asking Cosette about him too, but all he gets is the same answer and the same knowing, shit eating grin from her.
-
After that incident Enjolras swears solemnly not to give another wedding toast again, everybody agrees (except for Courfeyrac who takes every opportunity to tell the story to everyone he ever meets).
But today his two best friends are getting married; he figures he can make an exception.
He should have known better, he thinks halfway through the speech, when among the multitude he catches a pair of deep green eyes that he shouldn't be that familiar with, especially since he only got to see the once before.
He swallows thickly, making a nervous pause that's way too long to pass off as part of his toast and looking directly into the eyes of the man who starts to smirk slowly.
He’s not even half way through his discourse about the awareness of global warming when a mop of messy dark hair rises from the crowd, interrupting him.
They get kicked out again, obviously.
_
“Are you fucking serious?” He asks incredulously.
“You can’t be acting like an old married couple with that guy at someone else’s wedding” Courfeyrac says, trying to keep a serious expression and failing miserably.
“We weren´t acting like an old married couple.” He scolds.
Courf and Ferre give him and skeptical look.
Okay, maybe he should try something else.
“I can’t believe you’re kicking me out, I’m your best man!” He changes the topic, trying to keep his voice down and ends up whisper-yelling instead. “And you were looking unreasonably entertained by it anyway.”
“I was” Courf admits, offhandedly “But it’s time to cut the cake and I’m really looking forward to that.”
Combeferre just nods, looking at his brand new husband with and expression between amused and overly fond.
Part of why they ended up as a couple is their shared taste for making Enjolras life miserable in every chance they get. They should be thanking him for basically getting them together, not kicking him out of their fucking wedding.
“Now get out of here and talk to the guy like a normal person” Courf tells him “So you can stop making all our gests uncomfortable with your unresolved sexual tension.”
This is ridiculous, he thinks, he’s not going anywhere.
-
He’s the first thing he notices when he gets out, the lean silhouette sitting on the top of the steps that lead to the door.
Enjolras approaches slowly, watching appreciatively as the lights reflect on the other man’s face and hair. He stands up just when Enjolras reaches him.
“I thought for a moment you weren’t going to come out.” The guy says, glancing at him.
“Oh, you were waiting for me then?”
There’s a teasing, flirty tone to his voice that Enjolras haven’t used before, the man, however, looks charmed by it, so Enjolras doesn’t feel all that weird about it.
“Of course not” He answers with a smug grin that has Enjolras staring dumbly at his mouth “I’m simply hiding from a friend that invited me to this and is probably going to kill me for making scene. Again.”
Enjolras can’t help but smile at that, the memory playing in his mind briefly.
“You kind of looked like you were. Waiting for me, I mean.” Enjolras insists weakly.
“Looking for another argument, are you?” The man laughs softly, shaking his head. Enjolras certainly couldn’t be imagining the fond tone of his voice, could he?
A burst of laughing comes from inside the building, along with the sound of claps, making them look to the door.
“You should probably get back in there, best-man” Says the man, reaching to fix the lapels of Enjolras jacket “You won’t want to miss the cake, I heard is really good.”
There’s a brief moment where they both stand in the dim light of the entry, looking to each other, then the other man chuckles and turns, walking away from him.
Enjolras sighs deeply, feeling a little ridiculous standing alone at the door, watching the guy disappear into the darkness of the street before heading back in.
The next time he looks into the pocket of his jacket that night, there’s a napkin there that he doesn’t recall seeing before.
Upon closer inspection he discovers a cryptic letter “R”, along with a phone number scribbled messily on it.
Enjolras smiles and retrieves the napkin back to the safety of his pocket.
For now.
-
“We have to stop meeting like this” Grantaire says as soon as he spots him getting out of the lounge where the reception is taking place.
The gate of the place looks beautiful decorated with golden lights around the two pillars that stand on both sides of the open wooden door.
“It’s a shame” He retorts “I was starting to get used to it.”
“Is this a habit of you then? Getting kicked out of weddings?” He asks Enjolras, teasingly.
“I think it would be more fitting to say that it is a custom of ours, considering the circumstances.” Enjolras replies, trying to hide a smile and mostly failing.
Grantaire raises an eyebrow, his green eyes squinting at Enjolras and an amused tilt on his mouth.
“So you’re kind of assuming we’re a pack deal, here.”
“You should probably be getting used to that.” He says.
Grantaire makes a big show of rolling his eyes, huffing dramatically but unable to bite back his smile “I guess, If there’s no other way.”
They both laugh lightly.
Enjolras gets closer, resting his hand on Grantaire’s waist, stroking a hand through his hair in a gesture that has become more than natural to him and that he knows Grantaire loves.
“Come on” Enjolras says after a bit “Combeferre is about to make his toast, something about him knowing this would happen ever since Cosette and Marius wedding, and the we can cut the cake. I know you made a bet with Courfeyrac about our cake being better than them and I’m sure you’re dying to know everyone’s verdict.”
“I already know ours is better” He assures smugly “We picked it, after all.”
It’s Enjolras turn to roll his eyes, fondly, while he tugs Grantaire’s hand to the door.
“Enjolras?” Grantaire calls him.
He turns back at him and the other man captures his lips in a lingering kiss that has Enjolras smiling into his mouth.
_
At the end is Courfeyrac who has to go looking for them, because everybody is waiting for the grooms to start the toast. And he warns them teasingly, right before they get back in, that they better not make a scene this time.