Word Count: 636
Disclaimer: *holds up copy of DVD* does this count? No? Dammit.
Warning: Slash pairing, bad writing, clichés within the fandom, angst, fluff, possible out of character moments and also not beta'd.
Note: Karen made me do it.
Summary: "And? I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
When the day is over and everyone starts leaving the barricade to go home for the night, the amis turn to Enjolras and wait expectantly.
“What’s next, Enjolras?” Combeferre asks. Enjolras shrugs.
“Don’t look at me,” he smiles a small smile, “For once, I have no idea.”
“Café Musain, then?” Feuilly asks. The other boys nod and start to climb down the barricade, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire at the top. “Grantaire, you coming?”
“Go on. We’ll catch up.” The rest of their group moves on ahead whilst they stay behind, watching the sun go down on a successful day.
“Shall we go?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras nods and they end up helping each other down the barricade in silence. When they reach the street, Enjolras stares up at the top of the barricade with longing.
“Do you think this is heaven, Grantaire?” Enjolras asks. His voice is distant and lost to the point where if Grantaire hadn’t been standing right next to him, he wouldn’t have known it was Enjolras speaking. He looks at Grantaire expectantly after glancing away from the barricade.
“Yes,” Grantaire says.
“Because this is what Heaven is, right? Being surrounded by your friends and loved ones after death? Because I know we were shot before we woke up. I remember it, anyways.”
“I think this place is Hell,” Enjolras says dully. As if sensing Grantaire’s confusion, he continues without looking at him, “It showed me what I wanted to achieve, what didn’t happen, as if to mock me.”
“It’s hardly Heaven up in the clouds,” Grantaire says with a smile. He’s not agreeing, though he’s not disagreeing either. “But it’s supposed to be a happy place.” He pauses a moment, watching as Enjolras sort of deflates. “Come on, let’s get back before they come looking for us.” Enjolras nods and follows him down the street.
“Well, I guess this is a little like Heaven. If there is such a place” Enjolras muses aloud. “Successful revolution and friends…” It’s almost as if he’s trying to convince himself that there is a silver-lining to everything, “What more could I possibly want?” They get to the turn in the street that would take them back deeper into the city, away from the barricade. He turns to look back at it one last time, looking as if he were committing the scene to memory, before he tears his eyes from it and turns down the street, leaving Grantaire to look at the golden light of the sun fading behind the pile of furniture.
Grantaire has to run to catch up with Enjolras. He sticks to his pace before he glances over at Enjolras from the corner of his eye. He’s not crying, not at all, it’s more like he’s sulking. He reaches out and grabs Enjolras by the arm, stopping him in the middle of the street.
“Are you pouting?” he asks in disbelief. Enjolras all but glares at him.
“No,” he says. “I’m thinking.”
“You’re doubting yourself.”
“I’m allowed to in hindsight.”
Grantaire laughs. “No, you’re not.”
“Because you’re the great believer of liberty and equality and all that,” Grantaire makes a vague hand gesture as if to be saying et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
“We’re dead because of me, Grantaire.”
“And? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Enjolras blinks at him.
“I don’t understand – “
Grantaire shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and smiles before he grabs the lapels of Enjolras’ coat and catches his mouth in a kiss. He pulls away looking quite proud of himself, while Enjolras is red in the face and confused. Grantaire starts walking back down the street towards Café Musain, leaving Enjolras behind.
Finally, Enjolras’ brain catches up and he comes back to reality. “Wait a minute, where do you think you’re going?!”