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“This means a lot, thank you again, you guys.”
Marius sat cross legged on a chair in his and Cosette’s living room. He was huddled in a blanket, holding a cup of tea between his hands. He was beaming at the three men surrounding him, who also were holding cups of a warm beverage but notably, not alcohol.
“I know it’s kind of a lame party, but I-I just get, you know, overwhelmed by the whole club scene,” He rubbed the back of his neck, dropping his gaze though his smile remained.
“It’s not lame at all, it’s very you,” Combeferre said kindly, “I couldn’t imagine your bachelor party any other way.”
“Except maybe spending it with Cosette,” Courfeyrac piped in.
“O-oh, trust me, I would’ve but she wanted to do this part the old fashioned way,” Marius laughed a little, “Wanted a night with the girls, I guess.”
Enjolras took a sip of his hot chocolate, choosing not to comment. He would never admit to it, but he really was only there because he knew a lot of their friends chose Cosette’s party over Marius’. He didn’t want the man to spend the night alone so he braved the awkward party with Courfeyrac and Combeferre by his side.
It had gone just about how Enjolras expected. An hour or more of Marius just talking about meeting Cosette and how he proposed, gathering together to look at the photographs from the proposal, Marius burning the dinner he tried to make as a thankful gesture that the men came at all and all of them pooling together money to order some pizza. It was very sweet, very dumb, and very Marius.
Suddenly, in the midst of Marius starting into another rambling story about how much he loved his soon-to-be wife, there was a knock at the front door. Combeferre looked to Marius, who looked to Enjolras, who looked to Courfeyrac… who was trying so, so hard to bite back a grin but it just wasn’t hard enough because he looked like a madman with his eyes lit up, gawking at the door.
“Marius, you should get that,” Courfeyrac said, peeling his gaze from the door and turning it onto the anxious groom. He grabbed Combeferre as he tried to stand, “No, Marius. Marius should definitely open the door.”
On the spot and afraid of confrontation, Marius set down his tea and shuffled towards the door. He peeked through the peephole, and looked back at Enjolras, almost looking shocked. Before the blond could even try to dissect what the look meant, he opened the door.
Enjolras leaned forward in his seat, raising both eyebrows as he tried to get a good look at the figure in the doorway. All he could see was fabric. Scarves on scarves on a big, long coat. Somewhere in there, curls poked through.
“My car broke down,” The scarves were saying, “And it’s so cold out here, can I come in and warm up while I call somebody?”
“Of course,” Marius looked heartbroken, “We have tea or coffee if you’d like anything.” He stepped aside, ushering the stranger inside.
Enjolras’ jaw dropped as Marius just… let a stranger into his house. He looked to Courfeyrac, ready to accuse him of something when he realized that the man was no longer grinning. His face had dropped altogether and he was reaching for his phone.
“What did you do?” Enjolras hissed.
“I fucked up,” Courfeyrac breathed out.
“This is really too kind,” The stranger was saying to Marius as the two came back to the group. He started to fan himself with his hand, “I won’t be too long, I promise.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Marius gently tapped his shoulder before nestling back in his chair.
“What’s the occasion, if I may ask?” He started to tug at the scarf covering his head.
“My bachelor party,” Marius beamed.
“Oh, really? Congratulations,” He looked around, “Doesn’t feel like the bachelor parties I’m used to.” He laughed a little then let out a breath, slowly taking off the first of his scarves. His curls bounced free, a beautiful head of black.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” Enjolras butted in.
Just like that, green eyes were locked on his. There was something weirdly intense about the look and Enjolras shifted in his seat. He couldn’t pinpoint what energy was connecting them, as if there was any at all, but before he could think about it too hard, music started to play.
Hot in, so hot in here! So hot in...
“R,” He answered, removing a bluetooth speaker from his coat jacket. He handed it off to Courfeyrac with a smirk. “But you can refer to me as,” and he rolled his tongue.
Oh!
With a little bit of, uh uh, and a little bit of, uh uh.
R began removing the second scarf, slowly, with the drum beat of the song. He tossed it onto Enjolras’ lap and winked, slowly starting at the buttons of his coat.
“Oh, that’s okay, I can turn down the heater-” Marius tried to scramble up out of his seat.
R gently pushed on his chest, keeping him seated. With one fluid motion, the coat was open and off, discarded to the floor and leaving the man with a white button up with no undershirt.
I was like, good gracious, ass is bodacious.
He turned and bent over to pick up the coat, his ass ending up in Marius’ face. He folded it nicely in his arms before setting it on the couch beside Enjolras. Yet, with his ass in the groom’s face, he still made eye contact with the blond.
Soon enough, R was down to his underwear after having ripped off tearaway pants, hip thrusting towards Marius with a leg up on his chair. Courfeyrac was tossing money in his direction, much to Combeferre’s embarrassment, and Enjolras was trying his best to ignore it was all going on. He blew a kiss towards Courfeyrac when the boy braved putting a dollar in his waistband and, luckily, the song ended soon after.
“Okay, I think your car is working now,” Marius breathed out, face beet red.
“Thank you so much,” R took Marius’ hand between both of his, “I couldn’t have gotten home without your open house.”
At this, Marius looked touched, as if he had forgotten entirely that this stranger’s dick was in his face for nearly four minutes just moments prior. He watched R with a fond look as he began to gather his clothes from around the room.
Enjolras held out the scarf that had been sitting on his shoulders the entire routine, ignoring the way he could feel his cheeks were tinged with pink.
“Thank you so much, love,” R spoke up again, suddenly, as he touched Enjolras’ forearm, sliding his hand down with the grip of the scarf until they were no longer touching. They held eye contact for a moment before R winked again, “You can hire me any time.”
Everyone held their breath until the front door shut. They sat in silence together. Enjolras was staring at the wall, replaying the dance in his mind over and over. He could’ve sworn the dancer had been focused on him the entire time, which was stupid because it was Marius’ bachelor party dance so why would the stripper be looking at Enjolras? It was just a convenient sightline. Of course. No matter how attractive he might’ve felt with the Italian beauty setting his sights on him.
“So…” Courfeyrac finally spoke up, “I can explain…”
--
A week later, Enjolras had nearly forgotten about the whole incident. Courfeyrac admitted that he got strippers for both sides of the couple but somehow, the houses got switched. Cosette, of course, didn’t seem to really mind having a beautiful woman stripping and, in fact, had invited her to stay for the rest of the party. They all had a laugh, Cosette made a new friend, Marius had an identity crisis, and in just a few days the happy couple was set to marry.
Which is why when Enjolras decided to visit the newest coffee shop that opened near his apartment, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks.
There, just behind the counter, was a head full of black curls and a grinning face. He chatted it up with each customer, taking perhaps a little longer than he should, and earning way more tips than Enjolras had ever seen for one barista. Of course, if there was any way Enjolras could try to deny it being the same man, he unfortunately caught a look at his nametag as the customer before him paid and walked away.
R.
“Next customer.”
Enjolras jolted out of his haze, coming up to the counter with his brain on overdrive. He could feel his cheeks turn pink as he avoided making eye contact and he didn’t realize that he was just letting out a stream of disjointed words until he heard a laugh. He looked up, finally.
“Alright, you’re going to have to help me,” R said, smiling fondly, “I caught… two things out of that.”
“Whatever this will cover,” Enjolras slammed down some cash before retreating to the back corner of the store. He buried his face in his hands and groaned.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you be normal? Whatever this will cover-- are you joking? Who does that? He’s just a stripper– a dancer!-- who’s doing his day job, he probably doesn’t even remember you, it wasn’t even your bachelor party!
“Pardon.”
“Y-yes?” He sat up quickly, looking to the source of the voice.
“I didn’t catch your name, so I thought I’d make a special delivery,” It was R. Of course. He set a grande hot chocolate on the table with a mountain of whipped cream on top. Beside it, he set down a couple dollars and loose change.
“Thank you, I’m sorry, I-”
“No need to apologize. If anything’s wrong with the drink, just let me know,” And he winked.
He winked.
He walked away, but he winked.
Enjolras could feel steam shooting out of his ears like a cartoon character. With shaking hands, he grabbed his change, and from the pile a paper slipped out onto the table. His heart shot into his throat. There’s no way. He looked up towards R, who was back to entertaining customers at the till. He took a deep breath, shaking his head as if he was shaking away the anxiety, and picked up the paper.
Grantaire. 413-xxx-xxxx.