Word Count: 913
Disclaimer: of course i don't own this. i mean really?
Warning: Slash pairing, bad writing, clichés within the fandom, fluff (THIS WILL GIVE YOU CAVITIES!), possible out of character moments and also not beta'd.
Note: tumblr and Karen made me do it.
Summary: Prompt: Enjolras pretending to be reluctant and rolling his eyes fondly while a tipsy Grantaire pulls him up to dance at an amis party.
“Come on,” Enjolras blinks at the hand that’s suddenly in his face.
“Hm?” he says absently, looking up to see Grantaire standing in front of him, his hand offered to him.
“Come on,” Grantaire repeats, gesturing with his head to the makeshift dance floor they’ve made in the Café’s lounge area. “Dance with me.”
It’s the final day of classes, well, earlier that day was. The café Musain decided to be nice and throw a party at the end of the year like they always did for the students at the university. The café was packed, but only slightly. Couples were out on the “dance floor” including Marius and Cosette and, though not as odd as it would seem, Bossuet and Joly. Grantaire kind of wiggles his fingers in front of Enjolras and smiles.
“Enjolras,” he says, “Dance with me.”
Enjolras feels his face grow warm, though he isn’t sure if it’s from the offer or from the alcohol. “N-no, I shouldn’t.” Grantaire furrows his brows at him.
“Because you’re drunk,” Enjolras says.
“I’m tipsy,” Grantaire corrects, “and so are you.” Enjolras huffs.
“Hardly.” Grantaire shakes his head and laughs before he reaches and grabs Enjolras’ hand out of his lap. “Grantaire – “
“It took me this much to come over here and offer, you could at least give me one dance to put me out of my misery.” He tugs on Enjolras’ hand lightly before Enjolras sighs and knocks back the small amount of whatever he was drinking before he jumps off the couch and smiles at Grantaire as if to say there, you happy?
“Good. Come on.” Grantaire takes Enjolras’ hand, actually, he never let go of it, and leads him through the crowd of dancers, his drink held up above his head to avoid spilling it if he bumps people. They finally reach am empty space slightly in the corner and Grantaire stops walking and turns around to face Enjolras. A slow song comes on right as they face each other and Enjolras nearly groans in embarrassment.
“I don’t know – “ he says quietly, well aware of how many people are around them – no, how many people they know around them.
“Might I offer you some liquid courage?” Grantaire says offering Enjolras his drink. Enjolras snorts a laugh.
“You think you’re deep, don’t you?” He asks with a smile. Grantaire smiles back.
“But of course,” he says. “Drink it. It works. Trust me.”
“What is it?” Enjolras asks with the cup halfway to his mouth.
“Can’t say for sure,” Grantaire says right as Enjolras has the cup to his lips and is taking a sip. “All I can say, is that it’s fucking delicious and I really don’t give a shit at this point.”
Enjolras grimaces as the alcohol burns down his throat. Grantaire laughs and takes the cup back from him.
“Who made that?” Enjolras asks, slightly coughing.
“Combeferre maybe?” Enjolras’ cough turns into a laugh. “I’m not really sure who made it. And like I said, I don’t give a shit.”
“Well, you dragged me over here. Are we going to dance or what?” Enjolras asks, feeling more at ease than he did a few moments ago. Grantaire nods and downs the rest of his drink. He tosses the empty cup behind him, earning another laugh from the blonde before Enjolras sighs and reaches out and grabs Grantaire by his belt loops to bring him closer to him.
Their dancing isn’t anything fancy, most of it is them swaying back and forth and spinning a little in a circle while they sway. They started out with one hand on the shoulder, the other out held together, but it’s slowly started moving towards Enjolras wrapping his arms around Grantaire’s neck, hands clasped behind it and Grantaire’s hands slowly making their way down Enjolras’ back and finally finding a resting place on his hips.
“Relax,” Grantaire says softly after a bit of comfortable silence. “You look far too thoughtful for someone who’s had as much to drink as you have.”
“I am relaxed,” Enjolras says back rather too quickly. Grantaire chuckles.
“Sure,” he says, holding the word out in disbelief. Enjolras glares at him.
“You’re making fun of me,” he says simply, looking away from him. He makes no move to leave him on the dance floor.
“No, I would never do that,” Grantaire teases.
“Liar,” Enjolras is smiling again, and it really does look like he’s having a good time, even though he’s still incredibly tense. Grantaire leans forward, his face a little ways away from Enjolras’.
“What’re you worried about? Classes are over, finals start Monday. It’s Friday. Live a little.” Enjolras’ shirt has ridden up slightly from his arms being wrapped around Grantaire’s neck, exposing his belt and just the smallest amount of skin. Grantaire’s thumbs find it and he brushes across the tops of his hipbones lightly. Enjolras shivers.
“Well, yes, I’m worried about finals – as you should be too, but – “
“Is it me?”
“No – “ Enjolras answers too quickly again.
“What, is it the people? Fuck them.”
“Then what’s got you so wound up?” I’ve got a few ideas about how to fix that, too, he bites back, knowing he’d just ruin everything even though he so wants to say it.
“I – I can’t dance.” Enjolras admits, and he looks really embarrassed about it. Grantaire laughs.
“You know,“ he says, pulling Enjolras closer so that they’re practically dancing cheek-to-cheek, “I hadn’t noticed.”