The Les Mis Anon Kink Meme, Round 4

[10littlebullets]

Since LJ seems to have finally capitulated to the Russian government and is now subject to Russian anti-obscenity laws, I'm not going to take a chance on sudden deletions. The Les Mis kinkmeme now lives at https://lesmiskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/. (Round 4 here.) Everything has been backed up there. The LJ kinkmeme will stay up, but is now closed to

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Fill: As the Sun Will Rise, 4/?

[samyazaz]

He'd sounded like that when he’d come, Grantaire remembered. He'd been angry, but he spoke. The past week, though, seemed to have stolen his voice. Or maybe, Grantaire thought as he crept closer and listened through the door, maybe it had simply destroyed any desire Enjolras might have had to speak to him.

Enjolras was vibrant. Even when his voice dropped low enough that Grantaire couldn't make out the meaning through the wood of the door, he could hear the boy's passion shaking in every word.

He was drunk, and he was tired of sharing a house with somebody and still being lonely. He could hardly be blamed for closing his paw around the door's handle, turning it slowly, easing it open.

He stood there in the doorway and found Enjolras kneeling on the floor, Combeferre and Courfeyrac and Joly on his bed before him so they were on the same level. He was gesturing wildly, upset about something.

That was no surprise, at least. Enjolras's natural state seemed to be that of outrage over something or another.

"How long have you lived like this?" he was demanding of the three before him.

Courfeyrac made a gesture with his candelabra arms that Grantaire knew, through long familiarity, to be a shrug. "Years," he said, and Enjolras hissed air out through his teeth. "You lose track, after a while." His gaze slid to Grantaire, over Enjolras's shoulder, but he didn't give away his presence.

"All of you?" Enjolras demanded, his hands curling into fists against his thighs.

"It all happened at once," Combeferre said. The curse had made him a clock where it had turned Courfeyrac to a candlestick and Joly to a porcelain teacup painted with roses. Grantaire had made a joke once, from the bottom of a wine bottle, that it was punishment for his obsession with punctuality, and Combeferre had refused to tell proper time ever since. "All of us together."

"Happened," Enjolras echoed, low and stunned. "You were... You were people once?"

"We're people still." The hands of Combeferre's clock face swept around to show his irritation.

"Of course," Enjolras said, quiet and sincere. He dropped his head forward like a penitent. "Forgive me. I only meant..." He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "I suppose I thought he had enchanted you somehow. Gave you life, to make you his servants."

"Other way around," Joly said, rolling about on his side in a broad arc across the bedspread. "We were servants first. And... this... later."

"You worked for him willingly?" Enjolras sounded appalled by the idea. Grantaire couldn't even blame him. He never had been sure why they'd all stuck around, even before the curse had made leaving an impossibility. "He paid you, then, I suppose?"

Combeferre's hands swept up and back down in a sharp, impatient way that said, Really? Grantaire almost smiled. He wasn't used to seeing that look directed at anyone but himself. "Of course he did."

"And he pays you now?"

They all hesitated at that. Courfeyrac glanced at him again. Joly rolled face-own into Enjolras's blankets to hide his expression. Combeferre's hands tick-tick-ticked across his face.