Talk to me about Jehan convincing Grantaire to let them paint his nails ❤
in the afternoon and Grantaire is playing his guitar while Jehan lies upside
down on his sofa. Their long hair is streaming past the faded cushions and pools
on the floorboards below. Their eyes are fixed intently on his right hand,
plucking the strings.
smiles. “You’re going to set me or my guitar on fire if you keep staring like that.”
accusing me of malignant witchcraft,” Jehan hums, but there are still tracking
the movements of Grantaire’s fingers.
accuse you of witchcraft,” Grantaire contradicts. “I accuse you of being a
supernatural being that is staring at my fingers hard enough to make them spontaneously
are pretty,” Jehan says matter-of-factly.
smirks and says nothing. Arguments with Jehan on the subject of beauty are
reserved for moments of high energy, this is a lazy moment.
fingers move so fast…” Jehan muses.
Grantaire doesn’t argue. This is a very gentle melody, not fast at all. But then
again, Jehan has a tendency to focus on very different matters than the
obvious, so perhaps they do not mean the literal speed at which his fingers
pluck the notes from the strings.
pretty,” they repeat. Suddenly, in a supple, dance-like movement they swing themself
into an upright position, hair sweeping through the air. They turn to face Grantaire with glittering
eyes. “Let me paint your nails!”
Grantaire laughs. He has stopped playing in surprise. “No.”
Jehan chimes, bouncing on the sofa on their knees. “Your fingers move so
beautifully in the light, it would be even prettier if they glittered!”
Grantaire says with a grimace. “You’ve been hanging out with Courf too much.”
Jehan begs. “I’ve got silver nail polish in my bag. Silver goes with
Grimace. Arguments with Jehan over use of colour aren’t something Grantaire can
control, they just happen. “Silver might,” he says (it doesn’t of course). “But
glitter certainly doesn’t.”
from the sofa and grabs Grantaire’s right hand. It looks large and rough in
theirs. “Please,” they beg.
frowns at their large hazel eyes. “What did I say about using your supernatural
abilities,” he scolds. “Stop it with the eyes.”
their lips into a pout and Grantaire drops his guitar and covers his eyes with
both his hands.
“Arg! No! Mercy!”
he croaks. “It burns!”
and they rescue his guitar from falling on the ground. His friends always treat
it with much more deference than he does. “Come on,” they try again, pulling on
his arm. “Let me paint your nails. Just this once.”
a delighted sound and darts to the corner of the room where they’ve left their
bag. They dig out a small bottle of glittery silver nail polish. “Hand please,”
they say happily, sitting down on the floor in front of Grantaire.
he holds out his hand. “You know,” he says while Jehan gleefully starts on his
pinkie. “I feel for the person that ends up marrying you.”
you think I’d get married,” Jehan grins.
sort of person that gets married,” Grantaire says decidedly.
“Yeah I am,”
Jehan says happily.
moms will be heartbroken if you don’t,” Grantaire reminds them. It would be too
cruel for the child of a florist and a caterer to deprive them of the biggest
party they’ll ever be allowed to throw.
they agree. They are making steady progress with his nails and take a moment to
grin up at him. “I’ll just have to find someone that likes nail polish then.”
have to find someone that doesn’t mind being emotionally manipulated into
letting you do random stuff,” Grantaire snarks, but his tone of voice is far
too fond for Jehan to take him seriously.
please,” Jehan requests smugly.
gives them his other hand and moves the fingers of his right experimentally.
it’s not dry yet,” Jehan warns.
He lets his nails catch the light. They glitter. That is kind of pretty.
By the time
Jehan is finished with both his hand Grantaire agrees that it’s a great idea.
As soon as his nails are dry he lets Jehan film a close up of his hands playing
the fastest piece he knows and snapchat it to all their friends with the
caption “ART”, but only on the condition that they wail mournfully in the
background. The responses are thoroughly confused (except for Bahorel’s, who
just sends back: nice), which prompts them to send three more, with
increasingly loud wailing from Jehan.
phone buzzes and he pulls it out to see a text from Bossuet.
B the Bald Eagle: What the hell is going on?
Grantaire: Hanging out with Jehan 😘
B the Bald Eagle: You two
should not be left alone together
“Bossuet is criticizing
our friendship,” Grantaire grins.
“How rude,” Jehan
grins back. “Tell you what, you paint my nails next and we’ll send him close up
pictures of it until he begs us to stop.”
Grantaire lets out a
heartfelt sigh. “That really is the only reasonable thing to do at this point,”
They proceed as
planned. Grantaire makes a terrible mess of Jehan’s nails and the fact that
Jehan keeps shaking with laughter doesn’t help. After the fifth picture Bossuet
begins copy pasting the law article for harassment in the chat and Grantaire
has to put the nail polish away before either of them spills it all over the
floor. His stomach aches from laughing.
“Jehan,” Grantarie says
seriously, once he’s caught enough breath to speak.
“Yeah?” they snort, trying to keep their still drying nails from touching anything.
“I bless the day you and
your fuzzy rainbow legwarmers walked into my dance class,” he says with solemn exaggeration.
“I really, really do.”