I’m so sorry you guys had to wait so long for part two, but I hope you guys like it!!
Grantaire showed up late on Thursday. Enjolras had written him off as a lost cause and had been about to start class when the teacher rushed in holding coffee.
“I’m so, so sorry. The line was so long,” he said between pants. “But I brought you coffee. Black.” He took one last deep breath before a smile appeared on his face. “So what’d I miss?”
“Ten minutes of class.” Enjolras had taken his coffee from Grantaire, but now had his arms crossed in annoyance.
Grantaire shrugged. “Is that all? It takes that long for my class to settle down. Okay, what’s the topic for this spectacle?” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
Enjolras didn’t understand how he could be so relaxed like this all the time. He’d just rushed in from an undoubtedly crowded and stressful coffee shop and was still beaming like it was his birthday. It was cute, in a way. He let a faint smile cross his face before getting on to business.
“We were brainstorming, but don’t worry, I told them not to tell me the topics. It wouldn’t be fair if I had a head start. Let’s begin.” He nodded to Lena, who read what she’d written on piece of paper.
“Your three options are: GMOs, death penalty, and drinking age.”
“Ooh, nice topics,” Grantaire said. Enjolras agreed, already thinking up points for each topic. He turned to the other teacher.
“You pick the topic.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll win even if it’s one you’re comfortable with,” Enjolras said with a smirk. The bet they’d made wasn’t factored into this boast, he just wanted to win. Grantaire didn’t seem to mind, a small glimmer of ambition in his eye.
“Oh, cocky are we? Fine, I pick death penalty.”
Lena checked it. “Do you need any time planning?”
“Nah, just have Enjolras start.”
Enjolras nodded, bringing his points into focus. They really were simple, it was a black and white topic. “Death penalty should be allowed. Keeping criminals in jail is a waste of resources for others, and a chance to escape for more crimes.” He went on for a bit before waiting for Grantaire’s rebuttal.
“There are some people who are put to death while wrongly accused though. It’s injustice once that happens, showing yet another flawed system. Also…”
Enjolras’ eye still hadn’t stopped twitching in aggravation, ever since he’d realised he was losing. Again. His coffee cup sat drained on his desk. And sat at his desk with his lips pursed, tapping a pencil incessantly against the desk. Class was over.
During the debate words had gone flying through the air, each point better than the last when the english teacher realised he’d run out of ideas. Grantaire hadn’t, and had finished the debate. Most of the kids in the class had looked surprised. Enjolras felt much the same.
“Enjolras, are you okay?” Grantaire’s voice sounded worried. He stood a few feet away, watching the Enjolras, who was trying to quell a surge of anger.
“I’m great, thanks. Do you practise debate in your spare time?”
“No. Do you?” Enjolras didn’t dignify that with a response. Grantaire seemed to take the hint.
Before the silence grew too long Grantaire quietly said, “You never agreed to our bet, you know.”
“The one we came up with.” Grantaire’s face was red, but he still maintained eye contact with Enjolras. “You know, you win: coffee, I win: a date with you? I was just thinking, I wouldn’t mind getting you a coffee every once in awhile.”
Enjolras couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But I lost.”
“It’s not like you’d actually go on a date with me anyway,” Grantaire said, frowning slightly. “Even if we had shook on it.”
“What makes you say that?” Enjolras asked curiously. Had he said something to show that he’d reject any notion of doing something with the history teacher? Sure, he had a tendency for being standoffish, but that was kind of his default state. Once he got to know people better he warmed up to them…
“You rarely even talk to me, E. The only reason you invited me today was for your students, or for a victory. Either way, I don’t think we’re all that friendly towards each other.”
“But we could try,” Enjolras said, getting up from his desk. It was Grantaire’s turn to be surprised.
“If I were to go on a date with you, where would you take me?” Enjolras asked, waiting for a response.
A corner of Grantaire’s mouth quirked up in a little smile. “It’d be a surprise. I’m sure you’d like it though.”
“A surprise date venue, huh. I guess I’d have to come with then.” Enjolras grinned teasingly. He neared Grantaire, looking up into his dark blue eyes. “I don’t suppose you’d be free on Friday.”
“Hell yes,” Grantaire said eagerly. “I mean, yeah, that’d be fine. So, um…” He grew bashful all of a sudden.
“I don’t suppose…I mean, if you’re okay with it…can I kiss you?”
“Is that all?” Enjolras smirked, rolling his eyes. He tugged Grantaire down by his tie, meeting him in a kiss. Grantaire made a happy little sound before wrapping his arms around Enjolras, who smiled into the kiss. As sure as he’d been about winning, losing the debate hadn’t been such a bad thing.
so yesterday i was talking with @nerdy-dreamer-traveller and we were talking about Portuguese!Grantaire and how he would say to Enjolras “Amor o é fogo que arde sem se ver” (love is the fire that burns without been seen).
And i got this:
The first time he starts declaring (declaiming? well english is hard sue me) to Enjolras he was drunk. Like really drunk. So much drunk that Enjolras has to take him home. And Enjolras is not that happy because he is worried about Grantaire. But R hates to see him like that. So he stops in the middle of the street, they are so close and R starts to repeat Camões words without wanting to because fuck he is in love and that its that typical portuguese Love that poets would cry about and in his head he is laughing because he is more portuguese than he was supposed to be.
“Amor é o fogo que arde sem se ver;
É ferida que dói, e não se sente;
É um contentamento descontente;
É dor que desatina sem doer.”
Love is a fire that burns unseen, a wound that aches yet isn’t felt, an always discontent contentment, a pain that rages without hurting,
And he doesn’t know why he is doing that. Blame the alcohol, blame Enjolras for being so close and looking at him so worried, blame the fucking stars. And there is Enjolras looking at him in shock and awe and with his insides all melt because he knows just the word “amor” because he has heard R saying that word. But that poem sounds sad. So sad but at the same time so beautiful just like R.
WELL this has been in the works (even as kinda only an idea) for roughly i don’t know THREE YEARS? So I promised myself I’d post it tonight.
Title: Sherlock Holmes and the Judge of Souls Fandom: Sherlock Holmes/Les Miserables Rating: PG13 probably (there’s nothing worse here than in either book) Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Grantaire, Grantaire’s sister, Enjolras Summary:
At the turn of the nineteenth century, Holmes and Watson are called to
France to investigate the case of a man who died in the 1832 riots.