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Not In Love, Just Concerned

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Wow, this really got away from me so you have a little more than a paragraph (1500 words, oops).  I hope you like it, I haven’t written possessive Enjolras before so this was an interesting experience.  :)

“Stop pouting,” Jehan leans over and whispers as he waves the bartender over to where he is sitting.  “You need to have some fun.”

“I don’t need to do anything, I lost a bet,” Enjolras mumbles into his bottle of coke. 

Jehan laughs and orders a beer, swiping the soda out from beneath his friend’s hand and replacing it.  This only causes Enjolras’ scowl to deepen.  A week before, Combeferre pointed out the fact that Enjolras had a tendency to use clichés when he spoke.  After a few minutes of protestations, Courfeyrac leaned over and challenged him to make an entire speech without referencing “the people” or “the evils of capitalism.”  Needless to say, Enjolras didn’t last five sentences before he had to admit failure and concede to go bar-hopping with his friends. 

He takes a tentative sip of the drink and gags, it tastes absolutely disgusting.  He shakes his head to get the bitter aftertaste out of his mouth and catches sight of Grantaire who is standing at the other side of the bar.  Enjolras feels his chest expand uncomfortably and quickly looks down when he makes eye contact.  When he steals another glance in the same direction, it’s to find Grantaire smirking and making his way toward him.  Shit.

Before he can reach Enjolras, a girl grabs his bicep, stopping Grantaire in his tracks.  She smiles and starts stroking her hand down him arm, following the curve of his muscles.  Enjolras is now painfully aware of the way his heart is pounding against his ribcage at the thought of having a drink with the man.  The music in the room cuts out and while the DJ apologizes for technical difficulties, he moves in his seat, trying to edge closer to Grantaire.  He tells himself that he is not eavesdropping, that would be creepy.  He’s just… concerned.

“So what’s your name, cutie?” the girl’s fingers are still dipping downwards, bordering on inappropriate.

Enjolras’ posture shifts noticeably, his shoulders go tense.  He isn’t uncomfortable with the situation, everything is fine.  He just feels unsure about the way this girl is eyeing Grantaire.

Grantaire just laughs and gingerly plucks her wrist off of his hip, “Grantaire.  Who’s asking?”

“Rachel,” she winks, “And you’re the hottest thing I’ve seen here tonight.”

“Judging present company, that’s not much of a compliment,” he deflects easily, gesturing to the room at large.  Enjolras relaxes, that was obviously a hint that Grantaire isn’t interested.

Rachel doesn’t seem to give up easily, though; she just smirks and tosses her hair back, “Believe me, I wouldn’t be talking to you otherwise.”

“That’s a bit shallow, I-” Grantaire is cut off as Rachel steps closer to him and squeezes his ass, letting her hand linger until he pushes her away.  Enjolras feels his face heat and a coil begin to form at the pit of his stomach.  “Woah, okay, how drunk are you?”

She shakes him off and drapes her arms around his neck, “I’m not.  We can go back to my place and see what kind of liquor I have in stock though; or maybe find something more… entertaining to do.”

Enjolras doesn’t hear Grantaire’s reply because someone taps on his shoulder.   When he whips around, blonde hair flying across his eyes, he comes face-to-face with Jehan.  Admittedly, he forgot the other man was sitting there.

“You alright, Enj?” Jehan’s hand is softly lying on Enjolras’ shoulder, comforting enough to ground him again. 

“What?  Yeah, I’m okay, I was just-”

“Staring at Grantaire?”

“No!” Enjolras turns so red that his blush is obvious even under the terrible black lights.  “Yes, well… I don’t approve of that girl’s intentions.”


“Yes.  She seems rather… Shady.”

“Shady?” Jehan is barely suppressing laughter, electing to hid it in his beer bottle as he takes another sip.

“Honestly, you aren’t a parrot Jehan.  Yes, shady, I don’t like the look of her, she’s trying to coerce him into… relations.”

“Dude, it’s just sex,” Jehan sends a knowing look his way before continuing.  “I know Grantaire usually prefers the guys, but he’s pan so a girl isn’t unusual.  Besides, he goes home with people all the time, why do his ‘relations’ suddenly concern you.”

“They don’t,” Enjolras looks over at Grantaire again and feels his heart pick up again.  “I mean, she’s right, he is looking nice tonight.”

“And every other night?”

This is met with a splutter.

“Oh come on, Enjolras, we all know about your crush.”

“Grantaire knows?”  he mentally smacks himself when his voice comes out high and panicked.


Jehan’s answer his drowned out by Grantaire, shouting, “Fuck you.”

A few heads turn but nobody sees anything of interest, the girl isn’t being attacked so there doesn’t seem to be anything to worry about.  Enjolras jumps out of his seat as Rachel’s hand tightens around Grantaire’s arm, turning the skin around her grasp white and blotchy.

“When a pretty girl tells you to come home with her,” the woman’s grip twists and a hiss escapes from Grantaire’s parted lips.  “You say yes.”

Enjolras already walking across the dance floor, weaving in and out of writhing bodies. 

“I told you, I’m not interested,” Grantaire tries to pry her away from him and she reacts with an ugly laugh.

“Like fuck you aren’t; what, are you gay?”

“No, I mean I like guys, but not…” he takes a deep breath and Enjolras starts walking faster; Grantaire is panicking.  “Look, I think you need to leave.”

“Oh god, you’re one of those bisexuals,” Rachel sneers around the word.  “Don’t worry, I’ll help straighten you out; you just haven’t met the right girl.”

“That sure isn’t you,” Enjolras finally reaches the pair and places his fingers over Rachel’s, glaring at her.  “I really think that you need to leave.”

She flinches back and wipes her hand on her jeans.  “Fine, I don’t want to sleep with some homo anyway.”

“Enjolras, you don’t-” Grantaire begins, but Enjolras quickly silences him with a kiss; just a brush of lips.  He pulls away only to feel Grantaire’s hands fist in his shirt, trying to find purchase so that he can pull Enjolras back.

The blonde turns toward Rachel, who is staring, open-mouthed, and smiles sweetly.  “That’s alright, because I do.”

Grantaire’s own lips part farther and drop to match the woman’s expression.  Enjolras can almost hear Jehan laughing by the bar, where he is probably watching the scene.

“Now kindly fuck off,” Enjolras snarls and Rachel does just that, turning on her heel and huffing before she walks away, muttering insults under her breath.

Hands envelope his own and he realizes that he’s shaking, fists curled at his side. 

“Thanks, I haven’t really had to handle- I mean, I’m not usually- umm… was that- did you really mean that?” Grantaire looks tentative, almost afraid.

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I should have asked you first.”

This is met with a quiet chuckle, and Grantaire steps closer, hesitating before he cards a hand through Enjolras’ hair.  “Don’t apologize, not for this.”

Words die in Enjolras’ throat as Grantaire’s hand slips to the bottom of his neck and he is pulled forward into another kiss.  This is fuller than the last, a sort of hunger lingering in Grantaire’s touch as he licks along the seam of Enjolras’ mouth, questioning.  He groans as he parts his lips and feels Grantaire’s tongue run across the back of his teeth.  The sound becomes soft and Enjolras tilts his head, grasping at the other man’s shirt, pulling it away from sweat-slicked skin. 

“Enjolras,” Grantaire moans against him and pulls his lips away, tilting forward to rest their foreheads together.  “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

“You could have just said something,” Enjolras pants, smiling and pecking Grantaire’s nose. 

“Yeah, you can talk.”

“We may have to iron out some communication issues-”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Grantaire growls before dipping down and licking a wet stripe up from Enjolras’ collar-bone to his ear, pausing to nibble.  This elicits another moan from Enjolras who feels heat curl in his stomach, replacing rage with lust.  Suddenly, Grantaire’s mouth is raking across his again, biting and tugging on his lower lip, causing a stab of pleasure to course down Enjolras’ spine. 

“Mine,” Enjolras whispers, parting their mouths and leaning down to nip at Grantaire’s shoulder.

“All yours,” the reply is breathless and sexy, and Enjolras shudders.  He has to bite down an embarrassing noise when Grantaire’s hips roll against his, the friction intoxicating.  Another brush of lips is all it takes before their hands twist in each other’s hair, trying to meld their bodies together.  Enjolras barely registers his back hitting a wall, head cushioned by Grantaire’s palm.  All thoughts leave his head as Grantaire does something absolutely sinful with his thigh and licks his way farther into Enjolras’ mouth.

The music turns back on abruptly a few minutes later, but neither man notices.