Advice, a les misérables fanfic | FanFiction
discussion posts. Lauren said: Many people think that Grantaire and Enjolras like each other as more than friends. I think that there is some minor i. Enjolras is attracted to Grantaire as well but is unsure he is ready for a new relationship since he now is untrusting of romantic relationships. Cosette, Eponine, and Musichetta advise Enjolras. K+ - English - Friendship - Cosette, Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac - Words: 5, .. Cosette wonders how Enjolras has managed to have human relationships so far.
Musichetta and Joly show up together less than three minutes after he leaves. He said not to wait for him. That was the worst one for a while. I probably shouldn't show up if I'm not going to help out and don't have anything constructive to say. That hasn't stopped you yet. You usually don't leave. The two of them in combination are way too good at conflict resolution. They could start some kind of two-person mediation service, with Bossuet around to help with puns and baking.
Grantaire makes an unhappy noise that has Musichetta elbowing him, this time. We both know each other's opinions on this kind of thing, I don't really need to register mine. This is why I told you to tell your parents you're dating me so anything else would seem like a vast improvement. I was never actually going to do that anyway, I'm just working on my courage to tell them like you're working on getting along with Enjolras.
You're the one with spreadsheets. He needs to take his own advice. I shouldn't have put you on the spot, Enjolras replies after a little while. It might be better than the grudging apology Joly told him to wait for, so he leaves the conversation there. I won't next time, adds a text he gets sometime in the night.
That's the confusing one, and Grantaire isn't sure if he should be glad or hurt about it, but it's Enjolras. He decides, in the end, to just let himself be confused. Talking about friends was good advice, but we can't sustain it. I worry we might be too different to be real friends—I'm hard to be friends with, a lot of my attention is on work, and he doesn't seem to take much seriously—but I still want to try.
I'm discovering, anyway, that when we're civil I can like him. It's when we stop talking about topics I know we agree on that things go wrong. Any tips for not losing the progress I'm starting to make? The basis of all relationships. Yeah, that was heavy-handed, I'm not afraid to admit it.
So, you can make nice! I'm sure your friends are all relieved. But you guys are pretty different. That means you're probably going to disagree a lot. If you can't handle that, I'm going to advise you to go back to the polite-but-not-really-friends stage. But you seem determined, so: Maybe this dude insists that the sky is pink, and gets really mad when you suggest that he goes to the optometrist to make sure he's not colorblind. But are you really going to change his mind?
Grantaire makes a face just thinking about what Musichetta is going to have to say about this response. She's been publishing this whole saga all along, and as much as Grantaire has a following, she says people are keeping up with the topic, so he's got to keep going. Have you tried asking why he disagrees and listening to his answers?
Have you tried explaining why you think the way you do? How big are these disagreements, anyway? If it's about whether tea or coffee is better, both of you should suck it up and deal.
If it's about, I don't know, STEM majors versus liberal arts majors, you guys are going to have to learn how to at least acknowledge each other's points of view. If he's acting like your racist uncle, you should drop him and so should the rest of your friends.
Look, at this point, I think I have to tell you to talk to this guy. Tell him you want to be friends and you're trying to figure out how to get past all the arguing. Find a way to avoid the bad subjects or find a way to reach an agreement on them. That, he suspects, is as good as he's going to do. Grantaire sighs and puts down his usual sign-off.
Is there really that much to talk about? Everyone is sick of us doing this over and over, including the two of us, I think. I want to come to some kind of agreement. Joly might have the right idea.
I can't remember any of my arguments in favor of this. I kind of think I should stop coming to meetings. That's where the trouble happens. We can handle things a lot better when we're just playing Parcheesi. Or maybe to strangle Grantaire.
A huge amount of my identity is trying to make a political difference. You reject that, and it feels like you reject me, so it's hard to just play board games. All my friends are activists. If I didn't respect that, I would have joined one of the worse frats or something. Amazing how running an advice column is making him more mature and willing to talk about shit. Musichetta no doubt had ulterior motives talking him into doing it. In the end, I'd rather use my energy up on my friends and having some fun after a long day of stuffing my brain full of parent-approved education.
So yeah, I'll call my congressman sometimes, and come to the meetings, but the meetings take up pretty much all the energy I've got. Same place it's left us for the last three years, I guess. If you want to come to the meetings, come to the meetings. I won't push you to volunteer or sign up for things. You don't disparage our political actions unless you have a viable alternative to offer. Does that seem fair? It's a big campus, and Enjolras is friends with Courfeyrac and Combeferre and the rest of their very smart friends.
He doesn't need to write to an advice column to figure out how to be friends with Grantaire. It's just a weird coincidence. I'm more a thinking-while-I-speak kind of guy. So I'll try, but probably sometimes I'm still going to stay stupid shit.
That makes sense, anyway. When Enjolras is frowning at him, he knows what page he's on. He owes it to their friends, and to Enjolras's awkward attempts to be friendly with him. I might not be able to promise a lot that you want to hear, but not talking shit is probably being a baseline decent person.
I like to think I can pull that much off. Is that a truce you can live with? I shut up and you don't put me on the spot? More questions is just going to lead to more arguments. We can live with that? It's a good first step, anyway.
Do you have a minute free? The worst part of the conversation is over. Grantaire lets himself breathe. I definitely have a minute free. Things with the friend-of-a-friend are going a little better now, and we've managed to reach a few agreements. Hopefully in the future we can reach more. Not taking your advice with a grain of salt worked out for me. Sincerely, Tentatively Making Friendship Bracelets Grantaire reads that over a few times and tells himself that it's not Enjolras and never has been, because he really needs to hear it.
The thought of giving Enjolras advice on how to be friends with him makes him want to wince, but that's over now. Friendship Bracelets has worked shit out and Grantaire and Enjolras have worked shit out, and if the timing is coincidental, he's going to forget about that as soon as possible. There are plenty of other e-mails in the inbox. Musichetta tells him people are tweeting at the paper asking if he'll do quick advice on the Twitter account sometimes, or theorizing about his identity.
People are intrigued by anonymity, and the e-mails are pouring in one after the other. One has even arrived while he's been reading over the last e-mail from Friendship Bracelets.
Not Gonna Happen Twice - lady_ragnell - Les Misérables - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]
Dear Grain of Salt, I told my dad I have two boyfriends and he asked if they knew about each other and then told me I shouldn't string them along and should choose one sooner rather than later.
How do I explain how polyamory works to him? Love, Three's Company Grantaire shuts his laptop in a scramble and goes to knock on the door to the other bedroom. You don't have to go through the whole farce with the advice account.
What would you do? It always helps him. You just have to explain it to him enough times. Maybe Skype with both of the guys. They're earnest and they love you and each other, he'll get the idea. From what I hear, he's pretty cool. It just takes a while to assimilate, because we default to monogamy.
But you wouldn't have done this if you weren't willing to deal with all the consequences. You love them a lot. So you've got to deal with this one. I just want everyone to magically understand. So at least we're all having conversations we don't want to be having.
He says he won't ask anything of me in meetings anymore. Which doesn't feel great, knowing he gave up on me, but I also know I do a lot better when I volunteer for things without feeling like I have to.
You've got the pithy phrases down pat. But Enjolras would just ask Courfeyrac, right? Or even Bahorel, he thinks Bahorel gives good advice. But he's already writing fashion advice.
You're doing the earnest stuff because you're secretly good at it behind all the bullshit. I do think he would have asked Courfeyrac. And then he can sell your mom on it, that's the point, I think. Divide and conquer, and all. It means he has a lot less of Enjolras's attention than usual, and Grantaire knows enough from psych gen eds and counseling sessions to know it's probably not healthy that he almost misses Enjolras snapping at him, since at least that meant Enjolras had to be paying attention to him.
None of their friends look actively relieved or mention it, probably because whole months can go by sometimes without Grantaire and Enjolras ending up in a real argument or maybe because Grantaire told his roommates and Enjolras told his and their friends are all terrible gossips so they've got plenty of time to test the truce out.
Enjolras looks pleased at the end of the meeting, to the point of smiling at Grantaire, and Grantaire smiles back and stares at his phone instead of engaging, because he's on a roll now, and the easiest way to keep their ceasefire going is to not interact at all when there's been political talk.
But not bad, I think. I got to be around for the meeting, he got to talk without dealing with me, seems like it worked out. I don't think she heard back from her dad after she e-mailed him. So maybe he's actually trying to get it? Compromise is one thing, and changing yourself is another. Make sure you know which you're doing. They don't get less confused when Eponine unlocks the door to find Enjolras dripping in the hall. Enjolras is so wet his hair is a shade darker than usual, to say nothing of how the storm has affected his clothes.
Cosette would offer a towel, but she doesn't know where Eponine keeps them. Chetta does, although once the towel is in Enjolras's hands, he doesn't seem to know what to do with it. It just hangs from his fingers while water runs off him onto Eponine's floor, which would probably be upsetting if he weren't already mid-rant.
Without the motor running, he looks small. His fingers have tightened around the table's salt shaker; it does, indeed, look like he's trying to wring something out of it. He needs a drink. Why are all his involuntary actions so embarrassing?
If they turned to violence it would end in murder," Jehan answers, tugging the salt shaker from Grantaire's hands. Given the ease with which he wounds without thinking, an Enjolras who has turned his eye to destruction could lay waste to Grantaire in minutes. Grantaire takes a swallow of his whiskey. He licks the half-melted ice cubes at the bottom of the glass. Setting aside the question of Enjolras's incomparable physical perfection, Jehan is too nice.
He accepts his new drink with a nod to the waitress who brings it. I think we have real chemistry. Musichetta nods, her face neutral. Eponine rolls her eyes. Cosette sees her over Enjolras's head and has to bite her lip to keep from smiling. After a moment, it comes free from the sodden fabric and he squints at it. Enjolras looks decidedly troubled at the thought of wearing Montparnasse's clothes. It's a little badass on her, though; Cosette would've kept it too. He double checks my packing a lot.
Cosette finds a set of green flannels in there, along with a full first aid kit and at least three cell phone chargers. It's a wonder Musichetta managed to carry it up all the stairs. She might be a superhero. Enjolras looks laughable in the pajamas. They're clearly Joly's purchase, and they're several inches too short in the legs and arms.
They are, however, dry, which is a huge improvement over his red button-down and black jeans. He curls his arms around one leg, letting the other swing free. Is he being serious? You save my life every day just by being part of it. I know you're trying, but I'm going to have to ask you to add yourself to the list of people who are fucking kidding me.
Courfeyrac's name takes up most of the board in his flourishing blue script, but a dark scribble in the corner might be "Montparnasse," and near the top there's a stick figure labeled "Gav.
It sounds somewhat less than sincere even to himself, possibly because once he's said the same sentence ten times it stops feeling like an honest expression of his feelings and starts feeling like a line someone told him to say which it is. He has never been a gifted actor; if he wants to sound sorry, first he's going to have to feel sorry. I'm sorry, I just don't think it's helping. I think it's a great Enjolras impression," Grantaire soothes, shoulders sagging.
He brightens, letting the stormy Enjolras sulk fall off his face exaggerated as it is, the expression is a bit apt.
Only Bahorel looks amused at the prospect of more amateur theater. A flash of lightning illuminates the bar. He'll be less murderous tomorrow. His psyche was so wrapped up in being irate, he might be invulnerable to such base concerns as water falling from the sky. It isn't the first time he's walked away from Grantaire in a temper, and he doubts it will be the last. I wind him up. He's been weird lately.
He hardly even looks at you anymore," he says, frowning at Grantaire, "and when he does…" "It's never good," Grantaire finishes glumly, downing the last of his drink. It'd be one thing if I'd killed his dog or something, but I don't even know what I did.
I know he's Enjolras, but he's only a person and whatever he's feeling, it's making him act mean. You've both been about as pleasant as porcupines lately, and the only way to sort it out is to pretend to be adults instead of the hormone-addled preteens I know you both secretly are.
Courfeyrac looks as stunned as a baby who's just been splashed in the face with cold water. He would be worthy of such an act. He would be allowed to become so close to his lover, to his idol, that he could potentially soar alongside him.
To be within Enjolras was to make Enjolras almost an extension of himself, to have a part of Enjolras that no one else ever could. It was a heady experience and one that used to make tears come to his eyes until he put a stop to that as well.
But what clinched it all was that Enjolras wanted it as well. He wanted Grantaire in that way. He trusted Grantaire in that way.
Grantaire was gay for Enjolras..Correct?
Enjolras chose Grantaire as being worthy of him, even though Grantaire was still trying to feel that his life had worth. It made Grantaire feel uncomfortable at the same time as it raised him up. There were expectations now, and while Grantaire had experience under his belt, it wasn't the sort of experience he could rely upon wholly. For one thing, this wouldn't be just a one night stand. For another, he wouldn't be doing this just to climax and forget his own situation.
For a third, he knew he would be Enjolras' first and he yearned to make it special. So he practiced with a mirror. He practiced at the basin. He practiced being able to control his breathing, slowing and starting again. And he tried not to think about Enjolras' eyes on him, the noises he would make, how his skin would feel against Grantaire's. And he tried very hard not to think about Enjolras taking control later on and breaching him. That was always enough to set him off.
They had thought about scheduling their first time, a date upon the calendar. Grantaire imagined it circled in red with the word 'sex' written into the square. It seemed far too clinical to him. So he argued for spontaneity. Unsure how long the night would go on, however, Grantaire had memorized Enjolras' schedule and chosen a day when Enjolras would come home early and not have to leave the next morning.
In retrospect, it probably would've been easier if they had it scheduled, and Grantaire could just imagine any excuse Enjolras would give the poor soul who asked for Enjolras' time on that particular night. Then again, he feared Enjolras taking the person up on his offer and apologizing to Grantaire about the delay while secretly being relieved. Best not to imagine these things.
So when the night came, and Grantaire embraced Enjolras from behind, kissed his ear and whispered, "Tonight," he was very surprised when Enjolras turned in his arms and kissed him back.
And then said in no uncertain terms, "I want to ride you like a pony. Still, he kept his smile from wavering and managed not to look at Enjolras as though his lover just grew a second head. It would be a very attractive head, but still out of the norm. Grantaire took him upstairs to their shared room, fully intending on teaching Enjolras about a great deal.
He had seen Enjolras naked before, sporadic sightings to be sure, caught in-between clothes or in the bath. But now, the slow strip was almost a tease for himself. His own clothes came off quickly as he had no desire to make Enjolras uncomfortable in being the only one naked.
Yet as he took Enjolras back into his arms, enjoying the physical contact, Enjolras again whispered in his ear, "Your father must have been a baker. You've got gorgeous buns.
Was Enjolras playing with him? Was he mocking him? Grantaire pulled back to look at him. Grantaire tried not to feel sorry for him. Maybe he had heard it wrong, or maybe Enjolras was just trying to make himself feel at ease. Right before Grantaire was about to start comforting him, Enjolras spoke up again. Enjolras mumbled something incomprehensible.
Grantaire, who had been listening painstakingly for anything Enjolras would say, unfortunately heard it and was able to translate it. He shifted from foot to foot, one hand going up to scratch the back of his head in wonder. Enjolras clenched his jaw in unmistakable embarrassment and nodded.
Grantaire would have thought his lover was joking around if not for the fact that Enjolras, in such situations, didn't joke, and he looked entirely too serious. As though he was really trying. As though he thought this is what Grantaire wanted to hear. Grantaire cupped Enjolras' cheek, his thumb caressing the soft skin. A good deal of tension drained out of Enjolras at that point.
He could shift the blame elsewhere for a bit as he nodded. But I'd rather it be your own words and only if it's your choice to use them.
I would like anything from you, Enjolras. Apparently he was tired of talking as his lips descended onto Grantaire's.