I feel like indulging myself ;
Enjolras woke up earlier than Grantaire, by necessity if not by personal choice. Grantaire made a sleepy sound when she got up, her hand reaching out for her still-warm pillow, but her eyes stayed close and when she found nothing but air where Enjolras had been a moment before, she only curled up on her side and squeezed the blankets around her. Enjolras, who had thought herself above such sentimentalities, lingered near the bed, just a few more moments, observing Grantaire as if she’d been transformed in a whole new person suddenly.
She hadn’t, of course; it was absurd to think that because Enjolras had heard her moan and plead the night before, flushing profusedly when Enjolras found the right places to kiss, that there would be anything different between the Grantaire from today and the one who had followed her home the night before. Still - Enjolras thought, and then stopped, almost uncertain. The unknown had never scared her, but this was so far from all she had imagined herself doing of her life, that agitation seized her.
Had she truly a lover, now? A mistress? Was that what Grantaire was going to be to her? And, if so, what did it mean about Enjolras? Was she a mistress too? Or was she to consider herself fully a man, now that she’d crossed the last barriere, taking a woman to bed with her?
“Enjolras,” muttered Grantaire, her voice muffled by the blankets. “You are tempting me, and that is unfair of you; must I keep sleeping or come to you? Must I beg again, seeing you like that, hovering over me as gracious and fierce as Artemis, to convince you to come back besides me? You must tell me here what there is to say; i have a billions words for you, they’re all from Lesbos, stolen from the lips of a great poet who knew how to love better than most, but you know worshippers don’t choose, they mereley follow and -”
Enjolras, hesitating between fondness and amusement, decided not to choose; she decided not to think too much either. She sat back on the bed, let Grantaire blindly grab her fingers, and with a heart beating perhaps just a tad too much, she bent over and pressed her lips against Grantaire’s forehead, smiling against her skin as Grantaire hummed silently.
“I cannot stay,” she murmured. “But i have no doubt you’ll make do with this place while I’m gone.” She took a short breath, wondered if she was making the right decision and then, she brushed her Grantaire’s hair out of her face and she added: “feel free to come tonight. I know Joly and Bossuet, at the very least, will only be happier to have you by their side.”