kernow | ➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

[ Rémi kisses down his spine lazily. He smiles as he triumphantly touched his lips to the skin of this gorgeous human being; he lies in the beautiful blond’s bed for the third time in two weeks. And it’s the first time he’s awake and Enjolras is still next to him so he’s abusing the newfound position of power accordingly. Why wasn’t Grantaire in charge all the time? Honestly.

He muses about the memories as they flickered each time he held the man in his arms. Less tragic. Still painful. They were doomed, before, but— the leader entranced him before. He was even more thoroughly entranced now. Enjolras... Absurd. Absurd that R would find him again. Absurd that R would be here with him, now. His skin this morning was beautiful, and R touched the little pockmarks at the back of his rib cage; gunshots echo in Grantaire’s ears dimly.

More memories surface, but R doesn’t feel his chest tighten. In fact, his stomach feels butterfly wings scrape their insides again which is just. Well, absurd. — E’s hand holds his as they watch a film, and though there is an unmistakeable tight clamp at first, he stays. Enjolras laughs at a story R is telling about a concert in which he accidentally got his nose broken from a sudden mosh pit (but he got a signed drumstick out of it). R watches while E talks at the meeting the following week, and watches his ears get red and he pulls his face into that awful frown when someone (who isn’t R) contradicts him. ]

I have to go, [ a kiss reaches to the back of his ear. ] but meet you later?

[Normally Enjolras would be up already; Saturday or not, there's always a demonstration to organize, a pamphlet to outline and print, a charity to run a donation drive for. But last night has left him...sore, and exhausted to boot. He groans as he feels kisses graze down his back, face still half planted in the pillow.]

Mmm. How are you this awake this early...? Where are you going?

I volunteered to work early to be off tonight.

[ R replies with a kiss to a dimly purple mark on Enjolras’ shoulder. Whoops that one looks nice this morning. On cue, his phone buzzes on R’s side of the sheets and he groans and pulls himself off to push a button to stop it. ]

You’ll be done with your sanctimonious declarations of the day by 7, right?

[The look Enjolras gives him would probably be more withering if his eyes weren’t still so unfocused and addled with sleep.]

I’ll be done with the community outreach event by about 6:30, yes. Why do you ask?

[ He smirks and kisses him between those would-be withering eyes. ]

Meet me at work after your reach-out thing? I’ll text you the address.

[Still unfocused and pouting, Enjolras scowls at him then proceeds to replant his face back into the pillow.]

Mmmmm...sure. See you then.

[Already he's dozing back off, scowl releasing back into a peaceful expression.]

Aww, thanks you have a good day too, E.

[ R ruffles his hair softly as he closed his eyes. There’s a click distantly a couple moments later as he exits the apartment. ]

[Now notably more conscious, Enjolras says his farewells to Feuilly and Bahorel at the end of their community outreach on expanded rent control policies (and got several petition signatures for their troubles!) and makes his way towards the address shining brightly on his screen.

It's strange; if you'd told him a month ago he'd be waking up with Remi in his bed, enjoyably sore, well-kissed, and peppered with love marks, well. He'd probably scoff at the very idea. But here he is, and it's good, even beyond the sex: sitting down at Enjolras' kitchen island eating home-cooked pasta, their knees touching; R making him laugh until his sides hurt (a pleasant change from their usual verbal sparring until the incident where hot coffee went partially up his nose); walking along the Seine after classes, Remi reframing Enjolras' perception of the city's landmarks with his artist's eye.

It's not as if the visions have gone away. As welcome as this newfound physical contact and intimacy is, it still comes with sporadic flashes of The Man, the wasted moments of their relationship and the horrors of their shared end. His voice barely registers in these old memories (Enjolras feels that so much more would be clear if he could only hear him) but he's increasing his knowledge of what he was like. Enjolras can feel his prior disappointment and ire as The Man drinks himself into a stupor at their meetings, distracts Joly and Bousset, and fails to deliver on his promises to be of use. It's clear he was a member of their prior group, but when Enjolras prods Combeferre about any of his own memories of the man, he repeatedly deflects.

By the time Enjolras reaches the destination Remi has sent him, he's certain there has to be some sort of mistake. The restaurant looks like something he parents would frequent, not the scruffy brunette known for finding the most obscure, hole-in-the-wall treasures the city has to offer. He texts Remi, hoping for clarification.]

R? I think you sent me the wrong address.

[ Grantaire is in the employee restroom with a lit, hand-rolled cigarette between his fingers as they try to fix the black necktie that won’t sit right but— it doesn’t hurt that he hasn’t tied one since he interviewed for this job seven months ago. Practice makes perfect and fuck if he’s got time for that—

His ass pocket buzzes and blips as he leaves it hanging loose around his collar glaring at the mirror. The paper goes between his lips as he opens his phone. The cigarette almost falls as he grins around it, tapping away at the screen. ]

did you dress nicely like i asked?

[Enjolras glances down at his outfit; he thinks his tie might be a little creased from stuffing it into his pocket earlier in the day, but--]

Yeah, good enough. Seriously though, where are you?

[ R pulls on the cigarette and thinks about what he’s gonna see in a second and- hah. Oh he has it bad for this boy. He flicks the used half into a trash can after putting it out. One more look in the mirror has it about as good as it’s going to get even if he’s too nervous too figure out a proper knot. He tousles his hair with spread fingers, grimacing at his reflection. ]

out in a sec i’m in the washroom. You’re in the right place if you used that address? :p

[ Grantaire hesitates with the damned tie, but puts it on the coat hook. The door swings out and R goes toward the front of the restaurant (which was weird) and into the carousel door. He walks out into the Parisian sunset to face his boyfriend and try not to look too out of place without the wait staff blazer on to blend in. ]

Edited 2020-02-01 22:42 (UTC)

[Enjolras hears the light swish of the door and turns to...oh. He turns slightly pink in the cheeks, eyes lingering a little too long on the silhouette the vest cuts. As he remembers himself, he blinks rapidly a few times then leans in to give Remi a quick peck, bracing his forearm.]

You...you look really nice. But why are we here...? This place has to be— [Oh, how to say this without coming off like an elitist ass...?] —expensive.

[Nailed it.]

[ R smirks and raises an eyebrow at Enjolras, hands in the pockets of his slacks and trying to look more comfortable. E being an ass helps that endeavor a lot. A passing couple smiles widely and greets Grantaire in elementary French and ask him how he is. ]

Ah! Bonsoir, mis amis. I’m fine aha- but. No, I’m not working tonight! [ He laughs nicely and let’s the American couple tell him how they had to come back for the delicious creme brûlée and coffee. He looks into the building with a balmy smile and then politely waves them away. ] I see I see; well, I believe... Eliot will be your server, okay? Bon appétit!

[ With a small eye roll, Grantaire rounds back to Enjolras with the same smile as when he spoke almost perfect English to the patrons. ] That’s how. Employee discount, eh? Now are you going to a dressed-up plebeian like me escort you to dinner?

[Enjolras watches R falsely cater to the pleasantries of the tourists with an uncomfortable mix of distaste and arousal at R's...insincere subservience and cordiality? (Best not to unpack that...in an open, public setting at least.)

As the couple finally leaves them again, he colors from embarrassment at Remi's remark, lips sinking into that all-too-familiar frown.]

That's not wh-- [A huff, largely resigned.] Yes, sorry. This is very nice of you, thank you.

[ ~~By all means unpack it later because there’s a long history of R feeling like he should worship you, Enj—~~ ]

You’re welcome. [ R offers his arm with a wave back to the carousel doors and kisses Enjolras’ cheek with a tiny nuzzle. ] And what did you mean, dear?

[The threat of serious offense gone, Enjolras' scowl only deepens as he takes R's arm.]

You know what I meant. You don't usually go for something just because of the price or image of it, and this is...I don't want you blowing your money or something unnecessary just because you think it'll make me happy.

[Though, if he wanted to just dress up more on the fly, Enjolras is starting to think he could be amenable to seeing that on the regular.]

Well, say I want to blow my money because it makes me moderately happy to watch you puff with surprise and indignation about my audacity?

[ The triumphant smirk has to be implied as Grantaire chats quickly to get them led with two menus to a table for two. Earlier Grantaire had requested it set aside at this time because it was relatively far in the back of the restaurant, and against a wall for privacy. R moves to lead Enjolras with his fingers on his, which successfully makes it easy to ignore any snide remarks because there is a ringing in his ears.

The couple arrived at a white tablecloth set daintily. There is a candle flickering, and fragrant lavender, baby’s breath and a single white rose. A bucket of champagne lies in an ice bucket. At each small plate lies a napkin and silverware, including chilled salad forks. ]

[Enjolras tries to come up with a counterargument that doesn’t involve him feeding into Remi’s exact intentions and comes up frustratingly empty.]

I’m just trying to be considerate...

[Enjolras lets himself be led, sulking all the way to the back of the restaurant until he finally see the small nook Remi has carved out for them. He stops short when the get to the table, eyes going soft and lips curling back up into a small smile.]

...You’re ridiculous.

See? That? That’s what I did it for. You don’t smile enough for my ideal happiness. It’s all to be selfish, trust me.

[ The hostess places their menus in the setting in such a way that nothing looks out of place and it’s rather like they were always meant to be part of the set up. Grantaire smiles as he pulls out one of the two elaborate, wooden chairs to expose a fancy cushion. ]

Can I help you take a seat, sir?

Uh-huh. Clearly.

[While Remi's quips do earn him an eye roll, Enjolras smiles stays as he takes his seat. Minus the R sliding his chair into place, most of it comes as muscle memory; his posture straightens in the chair as he settles and places the cloth napkin in his lap.]

You do this for all the guests, huh?

[ The mannerisms don't escape R’s notice and he stifles a snort as he mimics the other taking his seat and folding the napkin into his lap. There’s an eyebrow up as he resists putting his elbow on the table and sips the ice water instead. ]

Do what, now? I don’t usually eat with them, no. First time, actually.

[Enjolras scrunches his eyebrows and gives him a look. Still deciding if Remi's deflections are charming or not.]

No, you just chat them up. You seemed like a favorite outside earlier.

I’m a server, E. My job is to be charming and make them want to come back— which is exemplified by my new friends the Porters who saw me five days ago.

[ He smiles and pops the cork off of the champagne, gesturing for Enjolras’ flute with a repressed smile at a personal joke. He grimaces as he pours the sparkling liquid into the glass expertly. ]

...and Americans frequently forget or ignore that they aren’t required to tip me. But some good repeat customers will leave a little too. Your crowd is wonderfully generous in exchange for niceties.

And is that what you’re doing now, being charming? I should warn you, I’m a third date sort of man.

[A rare attempt as being humorous? Shock of shocks.

Enjolras watches as Remi pops the cork off in a fluid, clearly well-practiced manner, swallowing hard as he stares transfixed at the brunette pouring his drink (There’s a far more modern, less painful flashback here, of well-toned forearms griping his thighs, a heavy breath near his cheek.)]

...You really have done this before. [He sounds openly impressed, like this whole thing had been assumed a joke at his expense up to this point.] ...Wait, what do you mean my crowd?

Edited 2020-02-02 23:28 (UTC)

[ Grantaire laughs openly now. God, when did he last do something fun...? Well. Besides bedroom fun. Different kind. This date was going better than the first, he decided. ]

By all means, if this isn’t charming, I know you’ll tell me. You don’t hold opinions in very well— which isn’t usually a rich people thing is it? Or maybe that’s why you like the laborers and merchants, we’re not as good at being polite. You fit right in.

[ He sips the champagne with a smile and a lingering look at Enjolras. Boy could this man reverse the charm. ] Well, sort of.

➳ i am a ghost, just a mirage

france before pants. but R’s pants before france. muahaha.

rebuttal: no pants, endless france.

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oh you’re so lucky you’re pretty, alex

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lie in your bed, Apollo

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oof

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