Fandom: Les Misérables
Day/Prompt: Day 18 : Prom : college/university party (based on these prompts)
Trigger warnings: none
Character(s): Grantaire and Enjolras
“They did what?”
Is had literally been two minutes since Grantaire had joined the party and his world was already being turned upside down, not even because of the alcohol – he had had only two drinks. Two minutes ago, he was convinced tonight was going to be the worst night of his life, and he was now laughing his heart out because his friends were all a bunch of gigantic dorks. Two minutes ago, he was convinced he would die of boredom half through the night and was trying to come up with a way to break up with Enjolras, who was the reason he was here in the first place, and now he wanted to hug the hell out of his boyfriend for being so fucking wonderful.
This, tonight, may not be called a Prom, but it was totally a Prom, and Grantaire hated it. First of all, they were in France, and there were no Proms in France. Proms were such an American thing, done by American people, for American people. Not that Grantaire had anything against American people, he just didn’t see the appeal of all of this. Secondly, because in France there were no such things as Proms, the party had been thrown by the students themselves, and Grantaire couldn’t stand more than half the people this house tonight. He would have been all game to go and drink something in a pub with his friends, but the very idea of being stuck with people that disliked him as much as he disliked them, just for the sake of “Well, it’s the end of the year, you know? End of high school! We spend three years together, we have to celebrate!” was giving him the creeps. They couldn’t stand each other! What a bunch of hypocrites.
Grantaire really didn’t want to come, and so did half of his friends. But the party was thrown in one of the rich kid’s house, or to stick to Courfeyrac words, one of the rich kid’s castle, and there would be free alcohol and free food, and that was enough to seal the deal for Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Jehan and Cosette, who had somehow managed to convince everybody else to come. Enjolras and Grantaire had been holding on their reluctance until the very last moment, because Grantaire didn’t like his fellow student and because Enjolras was against Global Americanization, but ultimately, Combferre had played the joker card by reminding Enjolras he owned him a favor, and if Enjolras was going, then Grantaire was going too, and that was the fucking tragedy.
That’s why Grantaire needed to break up with him. He loved him way too much for his own good. He should have said no when Enjolras had begged him to come with him. He should have stood his ground and let his boyfriend suffer on his own. But one strike of Enjolras’s puppy eyes had made Grantaire caved in. He just couldn’t say no to those eyes.
He was two hours late to the party, no fault of his, which was already an accomplishment on its own. He had been working at the social center until seven p.m, or an hour after the beginning of the festivities, and then had spent an hour in the public transportation to try to reach this freaking house on the other side of town. The house was everything he hated. Huge, pompous, and outrageous. So much space, so many rooms and only four persons in it? Twelves families could have lived in there! That was unfair.
Inside the castle – because Courfeyrac was right, it was a castle – Grantaire had been welcomed with clearly unimpressed looks. He was coming directly from work, so he was entirely covert in paint, because spending four hours with four-years-old kids, trying to teach them the basics of painting tend to do that, when everybody else was dressed as if they were reenacting the Awards ceremony. Beautiful dresses for the girls, and impeccable costumes for the boys. All of that was downright ridiculous because at the end of the night, everybody would be drunk anyway. They were supposed to celebrate and have fun. Why was everybody dressing so serious?
He had gone straight to the kitchen, where he had swallowed two drinks of the strongest alcohol he had found, and was about to go and found Enjolras when Eponine had stopped him. She was already wasted, and it had taken five minutes for him – because his own drinks had started to kick in – to understand why she was laughing so hard. When he eventually did, he could only join in.
“They did what?”
“They built a fucking barricade in the living room!”
Grantaire had no choice, he needed to see that! Eponine showed him the way the best she could, and honestly he couldn’t have done it on his own. This place was so freaking huge it was almost scary.
They reach what looked like a boudoir – a boudoir! What kind of house still had a boudoir nowadays?! – crowed with more than half the guests. Everybody was looking angry. Eponine and Grantaire fought their way to the front of the crowed and Grantaire just resumed his laughing.
There was a couch blocking the entrance of the living room. On the couch were a table, two chairs and a variety of other furniture that would have had their place anywhere else that on the couch. Eponine was right. That really was a barricade.
“Stop laughing and do something!” Someone asked Grantaire while Eponine started to climb up the fence.
It took a mere second for Jehan’s head to pop up over the table. A wide grin spread on his face when he saw Grantaire. He was obviously drunk.
“R is here!” He yelled. “R is here! The Revolution as come!”
Breathing was increasingly becoming harder. At this point, Grantaire had given up on trying to stop his laughter, because it clearly was a lost cause. After Jehan, it was Combeferre and Enjolras turn to pick a look over the barricade. Grantaire choked on air when his boyfriend climbed on the table. He looked like a mythological god of some sort. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t dressed fancy, which was the apotheosis of awesome in Grantaire’s book. Enjolras’s balance was hazardous, betraying how much drink he had had tonight. His hair was shiny, his eyes were glowing and his smile, his smile! All Grantaire could think at the moment was: Holy shit he’s hot. Holy shit he’s hot!
“You’re here!” Enjolras exclaimed and the spell broke because he sounded like a drunkard, and maybe Grantaire was a little bit more in love with him than a second ago. “You’re hot!” Enjolras added, before he quickly corrected himself. “I mean, come and join us against the oppression, Grantaire!”
“You have to stop them!” Someone cried angrily behind Grantaire, who just laugh harder.
“Yeah sure, let’s do that.” He mumbled happily, before yelling: “Vive la république! J'en suis!”
It took less than five seconds for him to climb his way up to Enjolras whose smile was like a lighthouse in the dark. If someone whined in frustration behind him, he didn’t notice.
“I was considering breaking up with you for dragging me here, ten minutes ago,” Grantaire told him cheerily. “Now I’m considering marrying you. Would you permit it?”
“Of course I would! Let’s do it tomorrow!” Enjolras exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders. “But first, we have a revolution to attend to.”
“Can I ask the reason of this barricade?”
“Someone called Feuilly and Bahorel cute.”
“How dare they? Is this someone dead yet, or can I have the pleasure?”