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Grantaire whistled cheerfully on his way up the stairs. It had been a long day at the studio, but now the familiar walls of his apartment building had closed around him, and even the out-of-order elevator and the lingering smell of pot in the hallway couldn’t bring him down.
Each step brought him closer to home, where he knew someone special was waiting for him.
Reaching his floor, Grantaire brought out his keys and spun them around his finger as he walked down the hall. He reached his door, number thirty five, and bent slightly to get the key into the lock, which needed a precise amount of jiggling before it would open.
As soon as it was unlocked, he stepped inside and called out: “I’m home!”
There was the soft sound of socked feet, and Enjolras came around the corner, not quite running. He smiled when he saw Grantaire, and Grantaire felt a grin spread across his face in return.
He’d already known that Enjolras was regressed from the baby chick emoji he’d received on the subway home, but the boy caught his heart anew every time.
Dressed in fuzzy, striped footie pajamas, his golden hair tousled and his eyes big and bright, Enjolras had never looked more cherubic.
“Hi, sweetheart,” Grantaire said, closing the door behind him and opening his arms.
Enjolras ran forward and all but dove into Grantaire’s arms. Grantaire pulled him close, nesting his cheek in that golden hair and breathing deep.
Enjolras smelled of lavender and baby powder.
“Did you take a bath all by yourself, sweetheart?” Grantaire asked, drawing back and placing a kiss on Enjolras’ forehead.
Enjolras nodded, then took Grantaire’s hand and started pulling him further inside.
“Woah, baby, my shoes are still on! Just a second,” Grantaire laughed, almost tripping as he tried to untie his laces onehanded, unwilling to pull back the hand that Enjolras was still tugging insistently.
Eventually, Grantaire was in his socks and allowed Enjolras to lead him into the living room.
“Oh wow! You’ve been busy!” Grantaire took in the living room, which had been turned into a blanket fort. Enjolras must have had a whole little day: Grantaire was both sad he’d missed it, and happy to be joining now.
Grantaire looked over at Enjolras and realized his baby’s face was radiating concern. Enjolras and Grantaire had a rocky start to their relationship, and sometimes Enjolras worried about crossing boundaries: one of the only times Grantaire would see him uncertain. It was this anxiety that Grantaire saw on Enjolras’s face now.
“It looks great!” Grantaire rushed to assure him. “Super cozy! Will you show me the inside?”
Enjolras made a little scrunched face as he tried to ensure Grantaire was being honest. It was, frankly, adorable. Grantaire’s hands were itching to draw that perfectly wrinkled nose.
Eventually, he seemed to decide Grantaire wasn’t upset, and pulled one of the blankets back, gesturing Grantaire inside.
Obedient, Grantaire got down and crawled in. It was a masterful blanket fort: there were a few improvements Grantaire could made, but it was already big and cozy. The TV was paused on a Sesame Street episode, a colouring book was open on the floor with crayons arranged beside, and pillows were scattered across the floor.
“This is amazing!’ Grantaire enthused, crawling farther in to give Enjolras space to join. It fit the two of them comfortably. “Oh, here, sweetheart, you dropped this.”
Spotting Enjolras’s pacifier on the floor, Grantaire picked it up and gave it a quick wipe with his shirt, then offered it to Enjolras, who opened his mouth and accepted it.
“There, that’s better,” Grantaire said with a nod. “Were you watching Sesame Street? Did I interrupt?” He found a place in the fort to sit and lean against the bottom of the couch, where the blankets were tossed over the back. He crossed his legs and left his arms at his side, open for contact but unobtrusive if Enjolras wanted to return to his crayons.
Enjolras nodded and climbed into Grantaire’s arms, settling himself in his lap and then reaching for the remote and turning on the show.
Grantaire happily drifted for a couple of episodes, breathing in the smell of Enjolras’s babytime body wash, letting Enjolras play with the hair on Grantaire’s forearms, brushing it back and forth.
Halfway through the third episode, Enjolras took the pacifier out of his mouth, paused the TV, and stretched his arms above his head.
“Hey babe, welcome back.”
“Mmm, thank you.” Enjolras’s voice was still groggy, like he was waking up from a nap. “What time is it?”
“No clue, I can’t reach my phone. Maybe six-thirty? I was going to start dinner soon.”
“What were you planning?”
“I was going to make rice and chicken nuggets, but now that you’re all grown up, I guess I’d better put some effort in. How does chaos primavera sound?”
“Perfect.” Enjolras extracted himself from Grantaire’s lap with an almost-elegant roll and landed on the carpet, sitting up. “Do you want help?”
“I never say no to someone else peeling the carrots. Should we take down the fort, or will you want to play again after supper?”
“I’ve already been relaxing for too long,” Enjolras said, reaching out to turn off the TV and replace the remote. “I barely did any work today.”
“You probably needed the break,” Grantaire pointed out, getting to his feet and pulling up the blanket, breaking the “roof” of the fort with a little thrill of destruction. “You haven’t been little in a while, right?”
“It’s only been-“ Enjolras paused and stared at the wall for a moment. Grantaire could almost see the dates running behind his eyes. “Oh.”
“How long?” Grantaire asked, failing to keep the amusement out of his voice as he started folding blankets and piling them on the couch.
“Almost a month,” Enjolras said reluctantly.
“Angel, you really need to schedule down-time. Whether that’s regression or taking some forest walks with Combeferre, you’ve got to take more breaks.”
“Combeferre also has semi-finals.”
“He also needs to get out of the house,” Grantaire countered. “And besides, he’s never too busy for you. He loves you.”
Enjolras nodded, then bent down and picked up a stuffed tiger from the floor. He looked at it, then up at Grantaire. He made no move to return the stuffed animal to the drawer where it belonged, absent-mindedly twisting the tiger’s tail between his fingers.
“…are you attached to the primavera?”
“Do you want chicken nuggets?”
“Yes, please.”
“Okay, sweetheart. Chicken nuggets sound perfect.”