Les Miserables: Grantaire's Great Escape
Title: Grantaire’s Great Escape
Fandom: Les Miserables
Characters/Pairings: Enjolras/Grantaire
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 429
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras wake up from a “rough” night. Oh, that is so dirty, make me stop this right now!
Author's Note: The prompt here was Enjolras and Grantaire: “Stars, Fabric, and Scandinavia”. This was a pretty obvious one; I mean, what else could you possibly do with that? Please note there will be SLASH. Nasty man on man slash. If you are offended by SLASH…know now that this will be offensive. Ok, it’s not that bad, I just like to declare SLASH a lot. Also, Barricade boys are verreh, verreh gay.
Dedication:
To Laurel (misatheredpanda),
Saint Grantaire the Exposed strikes again. Twice in one night? This is a religion to be reckoned with! And look, I wrote this and it didn’t even take me six months. Don’t pretend you aren’t at least a little bit proud of me.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I don’t own their stories, I don’t even own this computer. Feel free to sue me, but I doubt you’ll get very much.
Enjolras’ eyes were hard to open, his head felt as though an elephant had sat on it. He felt rich fabrics pressed against his naked skin. He was too busy being in terrible pain to realize he was in someone else’s bed, and really not in the mood to confront why he would be naked in someone else’s bed.
“Bsdposjdeirjfiojgoijgiojt!” he said, trying to talk over his headache and clearly failing. He heard something moving next to him…the unlooked for explanation of how he had gotten where he was.
“Good morning!” Enjolras heard Grantaire say cheerfully. Grantaire had a lot more experience with hangovers and at this stage saw them more as a friendly reminder that he had been in a good mood the night before than as a horrible, horrible punishment for acting irresponsibly, or forsaking the republic, or whatever the hell Enjolras wanted to call it.
“Oh lord,” Enjolras growled…the first reminder was not a pleasant one. “We…umm…never mind, I already know.”
Grantaire propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at his lover…he always liked to pretend he was angry on mornings like this and yet this was neither the first nor (he believed) the last time Enjolras would wake up this way.
“Come now, nothing to be so upset about! You’ll have to be in a good mood if you’re going to get us all to kill ourselves tonight.”
Grantaire made light of the situation because he had been too drunk during most of the meetings to realize how serious it was, but the frivolous phrasing did not bother Enjolras who sat up with stars immediately shining in his eyes.
“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, today is the day we reclaim our country! The day everything we have prepared for comes to pass! Today we shall fight our great fight!”
“I knew there was a reason I let myself get ridiculously drunk and end up here!” he added mentally when the details of the previous night’s celebration had all returned to him.
Grantaire rolled his eyes at his friend’s revolutionary babble. He was ready for a drink about now, or another romp…he knew perfectly well he would get neither if he let Enjolras begin on one of his “freedom” tangents.
“Or we could just flee to Scandinavia and live in a vineyard surrounded by drink until we grow old together,” he suggested pressing his head against his lover’s broad chest.
“You would abandon your country in its hour of need for Scandinavia?!” Enjolras asked ferociously.
“And drink!” Grantaire added casually. “You really mustn’t forget the drink.”
Fandom: Les Miserables
Characters/Pairings: Enjolras/Grantaire
Genre: Humor
Word Count: 429
Summary: Grantaire and Enjolras wake up from a “rough” night. Oh, that is so dirty, make me stop this right now!
Author's Note: The prompt here was Enjolras and Grantaire: “Stars, Fabric, and Scandinavia”. This was a pretty obvious one; I mean, what else could you possibly do with that? Please note there will be SLASH. Nasty man on man slash. If you are offended by SLASH…know now that this will be offensive. Ok, it’s not that bad, I just like to declare SLASH a lot. Also, Barricade boys are verreh, verreh gay.
Dedication:
To Laurel (misatheredpanda),
Saint Grantaire the Exposed strikes again. Twice in one night? This is a religion to be reckoned with! And look, I wrote this and it didn’t even take me six months. Don’t pretend you aren’t at least a little bit proud of me.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I don’t own their stories, I don’t even own this computer. Feel free to sue me, but I doubt you’ll get very much.
Enjolras’ eyes were hard to open, his head felt as though an elephant had sat on it. He felt rich fabrics pressed against his naked skin. He was too busy being in terrible pain to realize he was in someone else’s bed, and really not in the mood to confront why he would be naked in someone else’s bed.
“Bsdposjdeirjfiojgoijgiojt!” he said, trying to talk over his headache and clearly failing. He heard something moving next to him…the unlooked for explanation of how he had gotten where he was.
“Good morning!” Enjolras heard Grantaire say cheerfully. Grantaire had a lot more experience with hangovers and at this stage saw them more as a friendly reminder that he had been in a good mood the night before than as a horrible, horrible punishment for acting irresponsibly, or forsaking the republic, or whatever the hell Enjolras wanted to call it.
“Oh lord,” Enjolras growled…the first reminder was not a pleasant one. “We…umm…never mind, I already know.”
Grantaire propped himself up on his elbows and smiled at his lover…he always liked to pretend he was angry on mornings like this and yet this was neither the first nor (he believed) the last time Enjolras would wake up this way.
“Come now, nothing to be so upset about! You’ll have to be in a good mood if you’re going to get us all to kill ourselves tonight.”
Grantaire made light of the situation because he had been too drunk during most of the meetings to realize how serious it was, but the frivolous phrasing did not bother Enjolras who sat up with stars immediately shining in his eyes.
“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, today is the day we reclaim our country! The day everything we have prepared for comes to pass! Today we shall fight our great fight!”
“I knew there was a reason I let myself get ridiculously drunk and end up here!” he added mentally when the details of the previous night’s celebration had all returned to him.
Grantaire rolled his eyes at his friend’s revolutionary babble. He was ready for a drink about now, or another romp…he knew perfectly well he would get neither if he let Enjolras begin on one of his “freedom” tangents.
“Or we could just flee to Scandinavia and live in a vineyard surrounded by drink until we grow old together,” he suggested pressing his head against his lover’s broad chest.
“You would abandon your country in its hour of need for Scandinavia?!” Enjolras asked ferociously.
“And drink!” Grantaire added casually. “You really mustn’t forget the drink.”