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demonsonthemoon · 3 months

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Keep Me Safe

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairing: N/A, mention of platonic Jehan/Grantaire Word Count: 3074 Rating: Gen Summary: It's Valentine's day, and Grantaire sits alone in his kitchen with a flatmate who won't leave his bedroom. But maybe he doesn't have to stay alone. Notes: Oh boy. Forgive me if this note gets a bit emotional, but it's hard not to feel anything when this fic celebrate the TENTH anniversary of me meeting the amazing @anastasiapullingteeth. Two arospec people meeting each other on Valentine's day through a Jetaire fanfic, and then staying friends for ten years after that... how freaking awesome is this? Thank you Caro for still being in my life after all this time. The moments we share are always precious to me. Thanks to you, I always look forward to February 14th, and that is no small achievement. Love you, duckling! Title from "Ibuprofen” by Bears in Trees. The song was a big inspiration for the fic and it means a lot to me, so I really recommend you listen to it!

Read it on AO3

“Dinner's ready,” Grantaire calls out across the flat. The cheese on top of the lasagna looks slightly golden and the smell of garlic bread permeates the kitchen. Grantaire is sweating from the heat of the oven, as well as from the cooking and the dishes he just did.

The table is set for two, and he hopes...

He hasn't made a point of the date. Neither of them are really into the idea of celebrating Valentine's day. Considering they're non-monogamous, that Jehan is aromantic and that they've both listened to one too many anticapitalist rants by Enjolras, the holiday doesn't hold much appeal.

But Grantaire had time on his hands today, so he cooked a nice dinner from scratch and-

“I'm busy right now, I'll eat later.” Jehan's voice carries through the closed door of his bedroom.

Grantaire sighs, tells himself he's not disappointed. He would have been happier if Jehan had joined him, but this is the outcome he expected. His thoughts don't sound very convincing even to him as he puts the bottle of red wine he bought in the cupboard under the sink. He's not going to drink a bottle of wine by himself. Not tonight. That would only make things worse.

Would be a waste to, considering how expensive the thing was. That's what he gets for falling into the trap of Valentine's day marketing.

He's barely seen Jehan for the past two days, but this isn't exactly a surprise. Grantaire isn't worried about that. He's worried about his friend's behavior the weeks before that, the ever-present melancholy, the repeated absences at friendly gatherings, the aggressive defensiveness whenever this was pointed out.

Grantaire eats the lasagna in silence, scrolling through his phone all the while. He doesn't touch the garlic bread, leaves it in the turned off oven to hopefully stay warm.

His fingers hover over the Grindr app. He wants to get out of his head. Jehan's bad mood is starting to feel like a miasma, clinging to Grantaire's edges and slowly corroding his own will. He feels tired these days. Mean. He knows that the more he tries to keep his words soft and sweet for Jehan, the more they come out biting in front of other people. This isn't what Grantaire wants. It's not who he wants to be. It's not what he wants for Jehan either, but he's running out of ways to try and help. Surely he's not the only sad fuck out there who's lonely on February 14th and desperate for something else?

He locks his phone again.

Yeah, he's lonely and slowly reaching the point of touch starvation, but he's not in the right mindset for a casual hookup. Because he doesn't want to fuck some nameless person. He wants to feel close to Jehan.

It's not unusual for them to not have sex with each other for several weeks. But they haven't shared any kind of physical intimacy in at least ten days and it's starting to get to Grantaire.

The thing is... while he enjoys being held through his breakdown, feels anchored by having arms around him even if his head is too loud to do anything but sit in silence, he knows that's not the same for Jehan. Grantaire doesn't want his friend to snap at him like he did last week. He doesn't want to push himself onto him, doesn't want Jehan to accept his affections just to get him off his back.

Jehan wouldn't do that. He wouldn't manipulate Grantaire like that, wouldn't play with his feelings. Jehan has always been clear about his wants and needs, he's never led Grantaire on. He's nice.

But wouldn't it be the nice thing to do, to go along with Grantaire's own desires? Wouldn't it be easier for everyone?

Jehan probably wouldn't do that, but can Grantaire be sure? Considering that his roommate is currently locking himself up in his room and not talking to him, can he be certain that he hasn't been making Jehan feel uncomfortable all this time, that the other man hasn't just finally reached his limit and is just too scared to admit it to Grantaire? Too nice to hurt him in turn?

Grantaire breathes. In and out. He's spiralling.

He gets up and washes his plate. He covers the dish of lasagna and puts it in the fridge. He keeps the garlic bread in the oven still, even opens the door a little. He's hoping the smell will be enough to lure Jehan out at some point in the evening at least.

Grantaire can feel his muscles tensing. He regrets having done the other dishes earlier, because now there's too much restless energy in his body and he doesn't have a physical task to do to let it out. He wants to hit something. That would relieve the pressure in his brain for a little while.

He breathes in and out.

Picks up his phone again and opens the Signal app. He could text Bahorel, see what the girl is up to. She's usually down to hit the gym even at times when their boxing club is closed. Weights and cardio aren't the same as a good friendly match, but it would be better than nothing. Bahorel is good at not asking questions.

But what if Grantaire wants someone to ask questions?

Jehan hadn't been to the last ABC meeting, nor to the night out that Joly and Bossuet had set up as an excuse to flirt with the barmaid of their favorite queer bar. Both times, Grantaire had left early, worried about his roommate. He'd come back to a silent flat and a closed door, which hadn't been more reassuring than if he had stayed out. And then he had muted the group chat in which people were sharing photos of their night out.

Maybe what he needs isn't an anonymous fuck or a work out, but something else altogether.

Maybe what he needs is to not stay alone with his fear and his lasagna.

Instead of tapping on Bahorel's contact, he opens a group chat nicknamed The High Council. It's Valentine's Day, so he knows that Enjolras isn't busy tonight. Courfeyrac and Combeferre might be – it's difficult to keep track of Courfeyrac's relationship status, and Combeferre has been making eyes at Eponine for long enough that Grantaire wouldn't be surprised if there was something going on between them that they were keeping on the down low. Still, it's worth a shot.

Got lasagna and garlic bread to exchange for company and emotional support. Deal of the century if I'm honest. Anyone wants in?

He doesn't send the message right away.

Because the truth is... He would hate it, if it was him. If he was in Jehan's place. He would hate for someone else to invite people into his space. Would hate to be looked at with pity, with sympathy. He would hate for his vulnerabilities to be exposed to others.

He would hate to be a burden to his friends.

He does hate it. He fucking hates asking for help.

But that also means that Jehan would hate the way Grantaire feels right now. He would hate to be the cause of such helplessness.

So Grantaire pushes through his instincts and hits send.

Sometimes what you want and what you need aren't the same thing. Isolating yourself to deal with your issues isn't always the kindest thing you can do.

Grantaire repeats these thoughts over and over in his mind, hoping he can force himself to believe them.

He drops his phone beside him so he doesn't stare at the text conversation. He's not sure he can fight against the urge to delete the message before anyone has a chance to see it.

He stares at the ceiling instead. It's only marginally better than staring at a screen.

Grantaire can hear soft music coming from Jehan's bedroom, but there's no movement to accompany it. Maybe Jehan is also staring at the ceiling.

Grantaire wants a glass of wine.

Grantaire wants to find a hookup who will share a joint with him before letting him fuck them and who won't ask any personal question and he wants to slam the door on his way out to make a point to Jehan.

He wants to turn the oven back on with the garlic bread still inside. Maybe then it would smell bad enough for Jehan to come out and check what's going on.

Fuck. Being a good person is exhausting.

His phone vibrates with a notification. He doesn't open it right away. Better not hope too much, lest you be disappointed. It could be anything. Maybe someone messaged him on Grindr.

He closes his eyes after a few seconds. Hard. Just enough that it hurts a little, that he can see phosphenes.

Then he checks his messages.

👼 and I are on our way, keep the lasagna warm and cheesy 👌

The text is from Courfeyrac, and a few seconds later a new bubble appears with Enjolras' name.

We've already had dinner.

Followed by another message from Courfeyrac: I said what I said.

He should feel relief but is instead filled with dread. This has to be a fucking mistake. He's just proven to his friends that he's a deadweight. Not even capable of helping his closest friend. Not capable of helping himself.

What if Jehan hates him for this? For meddling? It's not any of his fucking business, what Jehan does in his bedroom when he doesn't want company. It's not Grantaire's business if he decides not to eat.

It certainly shouldn't concern Courfeyrac and Enjolras.

Grantaire sends a thumbs up anyway.

He puts the lasagna back in the oven, turns it on on a low setting.

He knocks on Jehan's bedroom.

“Enjolras and Courfeyrac are coming over,” he says. He doesn't ask if Jehan is going to join them. Hope not and you won't be disappointed.

He doesn't get any answer.

Grantaire has opened the bottle of wine by the time Courfeyrac and Enjolras arrive. He's poured himself half a glass, and taken out two others to fill.

The table is still set for Jehan. He can just pretend that the plate is for Courfeyrac instead.

His friends know to text him instead of ringing the unsettlingly loud doorbell. Grantaire wishes they'd forgotten, because it might have woken up Jehan. The man probably isn't asleep, but still. It's not that Grantaire wants him to hurt. He just has an easier time dealing with Jehan's anger than with his silence. Anger gives him something to chew on, something to eventually act upon. Right now he has nothing.

He walks down the four flights of stairs to open the door.

“Happy Valentine's Day!” Courfeyrac exclaims as soon as the door opens. He drags Grantaire into a hug and lays a huge smack on his cheek. Enjolras rolls eir eyes at the scene.

Grantaire feels a smile tug at his lips. It's partly just a reflex, the urge to pretend, to always act like everything is fine. But there's also some genuine amusement in it, some contentment from his friend's easy affection, from the warmth in Enjolras' gaze even as ey holds emself at more of a distance.

“I would have brought some chocolate but the only one we had at the flat was Combeferre's fancy not-so-secret stash, and Enjolras refused to stop at a night shop.”

“You would have paid a prohibitive amount of money for sub-par chocolate for the sole purpose of feeding the so-called 'holiday spirit' that only serves to drive more capitalist consumption as well as reinforcing norms around monogamy and amatonormativity.”

“Yes, I would have,” Courfeyrac responds with an easy smirk, unbothered by the well-rehearsed rant. “And it would have been fun! Besides, am I really reinforcing those norms if I'm buying chocolate to cheer up my polya and arospec friends?”

Enjolras frowns at that, and Grantaire ushers the both of them inside before they start a debate in his staircase.

“Oh, it smells amazing in here,” says Courfeyrac as he immediately moves towards the kitchen.

“I put the lasagna back in the oven to warm up, you can check if it's ready. And there's garlic bread over there.” Grantaire points to the counter where the bread lies, covered in a clean kitchen towel.

“Well, don't mind me, I'll make myself right at home,” Courfeyrac responds. And he does just that, opening the oven and quickly touching the top of the lasagna to check its warmth.

It leaves Grantaire staring at Enjolras and looking for something to say.

“Want some wine?” he finally asks, before pouring two glasses at Enjolras' nod.

They both sit down at the table, while Courfeyrac lounges against the counter, nibbling on a piece of garlic bread.

Grantaire takes a sip of his own drink.

“So, is something wrong?” Enjolras asks before ey even tries the wine. Rude. This is actually a good bottle. Grantaire put thought into all of this.

He has another sip. Enjolras just stares at him.

Grantaire sighs. “Jehan isn't eating. I've barely seen him for the past two days, really. I'm worried. I don't know what to do.”

“Bread was for him, right?” Courfeyrac chimes in with his mouth still half full.

Grantaire nods.

“His favorite. You're a romantic, 'R.”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well. Thought the smell might draw him out. It obviously didn't work.”

Courfeyrac shrugs. “It drew us in, though.”

Grantaire raises his eyebrows at him, but his friend doesn't elaborate, instead poking some more at the lasagna that's still in the oven.

“I noticed that Jehan wasn't at the last ABC meeting.” Enjolras says, finally sipping on eir wine. “But it's not exactly unusual for either of you to skip attendance from time to time.”

“I really don't feel up for a lecture about dedication to the cause, Enj'” replies Grantaire.

Enjolras tuts. “I'm not lecturing you. I'm just saying... this isn't unusual. Jehan gets like this sometimes. He always comes back to himself.”

Grantaire looks up at the ceiling. There might be tears pressing at the corner of his eyes, but no one will be able to prove that. The thing is... The thing is, you only need one time of someone not coming back for the world to change forever. The thing is, Grantaire knows how steep that edge is, he's walked it often enough himself. The thing is, Jehan's depression is often quieter than Grantaire's, but he suspects that the silence only serves to hide the depths of it.

“I'm just scared,” Grantaire finally admits, looking back down at his friends once he is certain that the tears will not fall. “I don't want to fail him.”

“Oh, 'R...”

Courfeyrac walks around the table in order to hug him from behind, the back of the chair probably digging into his stomach uncomfortably. It doesn't stop the embrace from being tight and warm.

“What if we hadn't been able to come tonight,” Enjolras asks in a soft tone. “Would you have thought we'd failed you?”

“What? No. You have the right to be busy. It's not your job to-”

“Just like it isn't yours to take care of Jehan.”

Grantaire feels Courfeyrac nod from where he's still holding him.

“Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that you can be here for him. Just like we're happy to be here for you. And the two are close in a way you aren't with most other people, living together and... such.”

Grantaire can't help but raise an eyebrow at that. Enjolras blushes. It's fucking adorable.

“But you're not responsible for one another even when you rely on each other. Does that make sense?”

“I guess,” Grantaire reponds, rubbing his fingers against the various permanent stains that dot their kitchen table.

“I'm glad you texted us,” Courfeyrac adds from his unrelenting hug. Not that Grantaire is fighting a lot to get out of it. It's nice to be touched. “We want to be here for you, you know? For you both. But it's hard to show up when the things you're fighting are happening in your own heads. Hard to be there for Jehan when he won't let us in.”

Grantaire nods somberly. “Won't even open his door.”

“But you did let us in. So we're here. And it won't solve everything but maybe it doesn't have to, right?”

He finally lets go at that, not even looking back as he walks back towards the oven and pulls out the lasagna.

“Now who wants a piece of this delicious-looking bad boy?”

Courfeyrac eats a huge portion of lasagna, along with some more bread. Grantaire and Enjolras share a small plate between them, almost shyly. Grantaire is almost vibrating at the idea of fighting over who gets the last bite. It's extremely lame.

They chat through the bottle of wine, Grantaire's friends keeping him up to date on all of the gossip he missed, including the fact that Combeferre and Eponine actually do have a date together today and, well, good for them.

It's almost midnight when they all hear Jehan's bedroom door open. There is the slightest pause in the conversation before Courfeyrac keeps describing the extravagant floral arrangement that Joly and Bossuet brought to their favorite barmaid. Nobody wants to acknowledge that they've noticed the noise, in case it makes Jehan retreat again.

But no, the sound of bare feet on the linoleum is faint, but it's coming in their direction.

Jehan is dressed in his pyjamas, his short bob of red hair hanging messily about his face. Grantaire can't help but look for red-rimmed eyes or the bags that indicate sleeplessness. He can't make out anything by the light of their old and shitty halogen lamps.

“Did you leave any lasagna for me? 'the least you could do after making such a ruckus that it's impossible to sleep in here.”

Jehan's smile looks tired, but it's a smile anyway. Grantaire doesn't waste a second before getting up and putting a plate of lasagna in the microwave. He puts the garlic bread in the oven for good measure. It won't be properly warm, but that's no big deal.

It will still make the flat smell like home.

#Meeni writes fics #Les Mis #Jetaire #Jehan x Grantaire #Grantaire x Jehan #Fanfic #Anastasiapullingteeth

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anastasiapullingteeth · 11 months

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Just a heads up!

Due to the whole AI scraping AO3 fics thing, I found myself in the painful need to restrict my works to registered users only. But don't worry! They're all still there. I'm very sorry for the inconvenience.

#spideypool #jetaire #spiderflash #enjoltaire #link in reblog

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probably-enjolras · 7 months

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i want to write a grantaire centered les mis fic, choose what ship i should write:

I’m indecisive as hell, help me out lol

#les mis #grantaire #exr #enjoltaire #jbm+r #jbm #jetaire #jehantaire #jehan #joly #bossuet #musichetta #enjolras #ryan.txt #polls

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anastasiawritingfics · 3 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Relationships: Grantaire/Jean Prouvaire Ratng: Mature Additional Tags: Tropes, Friends With Benefits, Forced Proximity, Tragic Romance, Alternate Universe - Hackers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Bittersweet Summary:

Jehan and Grantaire are hacktivists running away from the cops. Forced into hiding, they spend months together in a basement with nothing but each other’s company. Everything goes smoothly at the beginning, until they both give in to their attraction for each other and decide to sleep together. Is there a future for them outside that basement?

10 years ago, destiny and a frankly bad written jetaire fanfic brought a wonderful person into my life who changed me for the better.

I love you, @demonsonthemoon! This is a weird gift to celebrate our day. Happy 10th anniversary!

#jetaire #jehan x grantaire #grantaire x jehan #les mis fanfiction #demonsonthemoon #mywriting #new #24h unrestricted

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ligapediaslot · 2 months

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Balapan final F1 Powerboat Danau Toba 2024 dimulai

Ligapedia.News – Kabupaten Toba, balapan final F1 Powerboat Danau Toba 2024 sudah dimulai dan para pembalap memacu jet air tersebut dan meliuk-liuk untuk menaklukkan lintasan. Balapan dimulai tepat pukul 11.20 WIB, setelah didahului dengan seremoni pembukaan pada pukul 10.20 WIB. Tampak sebanyak 18 pembalap tampil trengginas dan melahap lintasan sepanjang 2,218 kilometer. Aksi saling salip dimulai sejak lap 1, antara Andersson dan Stark yang berada pada posisi pertama dan kedua. Keduanya saling beradu kencang pada tikungan tajam lintasan di pelabuhan tersebut. Andersson yang merupakan juara dunia F1 Powerboat musim lalu, tampak tidak mau mengalah ditikung oleh Stark. Andersson dengan perahu berwarna merah dan nomor perahu 1 itu, kembali menikung Stark di lintasan lurus. Pole position dimulai dengan urutan pertama diisi Jonas Andersson dari Team Binh Dinh - Viet Nam. Di belakang Andersson, pembalap Victory Team, Erik Stark, berada pada posisi kedua dan Rusty Wyatt dari Sharjah Team. Kemudian, pada posisi keempat ditempati Stefan Arand yang merupakan pembalap debutan dari Team Binh Dinh - Viet Nam. Pemenang seri Danau Toba tahun lalu, Bartek Marszalek dari Stromoy Racing menempati posisi kelima. Hingga berita ini dibuat, balapan masih berlangsung dengan kondisi cuaca cerah berawan. Balapan final tahun ini bertajuk Pertamina Grand Prix of Indonesia - F1 Powerboat Danau Toba 2024 dan awalnya direncanakan untuk diikuti sebanyak 18 pembalap dari sembilan tim dan berasal dari 10 negara. Namun, berdasarkan data dari F1H2O Racing, pembalap Ahmad Al Fahim dari Victory Team tidak mengikuti semua proses balapan di seri Danau Toba tahun ini. Sementara itu, di Indonesia, PT Aviasi Pariwisata Indonesia (Persero) atau InJourney menjadi penyelenggara utama kegiatan yang setara dengan balapan jet darat atau Formula 1 (F1) itu. Sumber : antaranews.com Read the full article

#Balapan #DanauToba #finalF1Powerboat #jetair

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jetairco · 7 months

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vigetevoduh · 2 years

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Usmc aav technical manual

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internet-magazin-onestep-by · 2 years

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preliminary-gayeties · 2 years

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Modern AU Jetaire as Romeo and Juliet is here! Or at least the first part of it.

YA fiction is overrated so they both work dead end jobs at their parents’ hedge funds. I wrote this because peer pressure @earthbound-in-doubt

#ao3 #a rose by any other name #grantaire #jehan prouvaire #les mis #jetaire

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mysunfreckle · 4 years

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A spot of night-gardening

Modern Vampire AU, Jehan & R platonic soulmates, new ExR, 600w

The nights are far too short in summer as far as Jehan is concerned. It’s torture to have to stay inside while the city is bursting with life and their garden is finally in bloom.

People do look at them strangely when they run around the still-crowded streets in their coat and gloves, but at least their large sunhat and shades are justified. If they leave around sunset, they get to spend dusk in their garden and that is more than worth the slight sting in their eyes to Jehan.

By now there is no sunlight left to bother them and Jehan can tend to their flowers free of their extra layers of protective clothing.

“Oh, you are early,” they murmur admiringly, carefully touching the first blooms of the tuberose. The little flowers are white, most of the night-blooming flowers Jehan managed to get their hands on are. Only the primroses and the mirabilis give a splash of colour. “You smell lovely,” they praise. “I wish I could have gotten some jasmine to keep you company…”

The allotment is lovely and quiet. There are a few people who are in a habit of staying late, all human. Jehan knows them all by name now, but they aren’t in today.

Jehan goes from plant to plant, addressing them all by their Latin names by way of practice as well as a show of affection.

“Jehan Prouvaire in their natural habitat.”

“R!” Jehan turns around with a startled smile. “You’re sneaky.”

“You turned off your phone,” Grantaire says apologetically, lingering at their little garden gate.

“I was talking to the flowers,” Jehan makes excuse. They walk up to him happily, pulling him onto the narrow garden path. “I thought this was an Enjolras night still,” they say and they grin coaxingly. “Have you come to read to me?”

Sure enough, Grantaire unearths a battered paperback from one of his pockets and Jehan makes a gleeful sound while he sits down on the chest of gardening tools.

Usually they are the one that reads to Grantaire, but lately he’s taken to reading to them while they garden and Jehan considers this an excellent development.

---

Jehan leans indulgently on Grantaire’s arm as they walk back home, a basket of freshly cut herbs swinging on the other. They’re just to make the house smell nice. Speaking of smells.

They push up on their toes to hide their face against Grantaire’s neck for a moment, making him stumble in his previously steady steps.

“You smell recently fed,” they tease. “Recently fed on boyfriend.”

Grantaire gives them a retaliatory poke in the ribs and Jehan laughs, squirming away from him for a moment before pulling him close again and resuming their walk home.

“You’re gonna make me hungry,” they scold, with nothing but warmth in their voice. Grantaire’s drinking patterns are healthier than they’ve been in years and they’re so happy for him. Him and Enjolras both.

“There’s still time to go out,” Grantaire hums. “Not too close to morning.”

“Mm, I can wait,” Jehan says. They’d much rather spend a night in with R. It’s becoming a little rarer for them to just have him all to themself. And that’s okay, it’s good that their lives are no longer focussed only on each other, but they do really like to have him all to themself now and again.

#sweet like blood sugar #jetaire #I think it is deserving of the tag #enjoltaire #les mis #les amis #grantaire #jehan prouvaire #vampire au #modern au #sunfreckle's stories

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demonsonthemoon · 1 year

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A State or a Feeling

Fandom: Les Misérables Pairing: Jehan Prouvaire/Grantaire Word Count: 2155 Rating: Gen Summary: "I'm in love!" "And that's a good thing?" OR: Grantaire is so happy about his unrequited crush on Enjolras that he has to kiss Jehan about it. Notes: Happy meeting anniversary to my beloved friend @anastasiapullingteeth <3 Your friendship is a light in my life.

Read it on AO3.

Grantaire is giddy with it. Practically skipping as he walks home. Jehan would probably have given in to that instinct and cheerfully hopped down all the way back to their shared flat. He's a lot more comfortable in his skin that Grantaire is. He wouldn't care about people staring, wondering if maybe he's drunk, or high, instead of just this. Intoxicated and overjoyed by the simple act of loving.

Maybe Grantaire's a little drunk also, if he has to be entirely honest. But he's just walking, not skipping about, so it doesn't matter. It's not a problem. Right now, anyway.

There are many things in Grantaire's life that are a bit of a problem, but what is important is right now. And right now he's feeling giddy and happy, and he lets himself into his apartment, which always feels just a little bit like relief.

This is how Grantaire knows he's happy.

“Honey, I'm home!” He sing-songs, dropping his keys into a bowl in the hallway.

“In the kitchen,” Jehan shouts back. His voice is a little low, more rough-edged than usual.

Grantaire doesn't care about his lingering cold, though. He wraps his arms around the other man's waist and buries his smile into Jehan's neck, feeling like it might run away from him otherwise.

“Someone's in an amorous mood tonight,” Jehan says as Grantaire nuzzles under his skin. “You'll catch your death, you know.”

“What a beautiful way to go, though.”

“Well, you might have a deathwish, but I don't. And if you don't stop distracing me, this broccoli might just catch fire and take me with it into the afterlife.”

“The broccoli's already in the afterlife, you know.”

Jehan swats at him, then pokes his face with their wooden spoon until Grantaire relents and lets him go. “That is not the point and you know it,” Jehan adds, still threatening him with the spoon.

He quickly eases off though, relaxing and smiling. Grantaire can feel the same expression reflected on his face. “What's got you so happy?”

Grantaire can't resist. He swoops back in, lifts Jehan in his arms and twirls him around their kitchen. “I'm in love,” Grantaire says, grin growing bigger as Jehan starts to laugh.

“And that's a good thing?”

“Mmh-mmh.” Grantaire drops his flatmate back to the ground. Jehan turns around and switches off their gas hob. It fills Grantaire with a simple joy, because he knows that Jehan is truly listening to him. He is regularly shaken within his bones by the fact that someone can care about him so obviously, so easily, without making him feel inadequate. Grantaire stops to breathe, letting himself savor the feeling of his lungs being filled. It seems so easy, in this moment. What a precious thing. “I'm happy,” he whispers, like it's a secret.

Once again, he wonders at his luck, because Jehan knows to kiss him when he says that, tugging on Grantaire's hair slightly so that he bends down enough that Jehan can lick the joy from his lips.

“Tell me about it,” Jehan says, like a promise. Grantaire tugs him away from the kitchen, away from the broccoli. He's not hungry right now. He's filled to the core with euphoria.

He knows it's temporary, of course. It's just another high, like the ones he gets from drugs or from alcohol. But right now it's there, it's real, and that's all that matters. Being present in his body, and knowing that for once, he owes none of it to artificial substances.

“It's Enjolras,” Grantaire says as he settles on the tattered couch in their living room. Jehan settles down next to him, crossing his legs.

“Of course it is,” Jehan chuckles. “That's what I expected. Or, well, I guess there could have been a new recruit in Les Amis that caught your eye in a flash. After all, it happened to me.”

It's Grantaire's turn to reward Jehan with a kiss, a marker of the easy intimacy between them. It could so easily have turned out differently between them. Grantaire is very aware of how easily he could have been put off by Jehan's affection for him, if the other man hadn't been so good at respecting his boundaries. It's happened so many times before, that he felt a connection to someone, fell headfirst into adoration, before everything fizzled out once they started actually dating. It always felt uncomfortable, the cloying attention of someone being in love with him, the way that receprocation made a relationship change, stripped it of the playfulness that had made it interesting in the first place.

But here they are, he and Jehan. Living together, kissing each other, fucking each other when the mood strikes them. And yet it's not cloying. It's not laden with expectations and judgements.

It's not always easy. Hasn't always been easy. They've had to fight, for this. When they first got to know each other and the yearning felt so deep it threatened to consume them both, Grantaire had to push back against his own wants to try and protect what he truly needed. A friend. Foremost, front and center. A friend.

It's one of the hardest things he's ever done. It's definitely what he's the proudest of in his life.

Now he gets to have this. Like a reward. For once, Grantaire believes he deserves it.

“So, what did Enjolras do this time? Did he finally admit something nice about you?”

“Ah! We first need at least three signs of the Apocalypse before we can expect that. No, he called me a buffoon, I think. Hardly the insult he thinks it is. I do very much enjoy playing the entertainer.”

Jehan rolls his eyes at that. “Yeah, I think everyone in Les Amis has noticed that.”

“It's a great service I provide for them! I'm sure we would have lost half of our attendees if I didn't take it upon myself to make these meetings a little less rebarbative.”

“What you call rebarbative is known in some circles as efficient.”

“Psh.” Grantaire makes a gesture with his hand as if he's chasing a fly away. “We both know they like to talk in circle. If someone didn't push them towards a decision, they'd just spend all evening debating for the sake of it.”

“It's funny,” Jehan points out with a sly grin. “This almost makes it sound like you care about Les Amis achieving their goal.”

“You know I do,” Grantaire says, tone turning more somber. God, he hopes Jehan does, because if not... If not, there's been something going fundamentally wrong in this relationship, and Grantaire has only noticed. “I really do want you all to succeed, even if I don't-”

“I know. I know it's hard for you to believe that things can change, but it doesn't mean you don't think they should. I know that you care. The others know it too. They get mad at you for pushing, but they know it helps, that you're forcing them to think, forcing them to defend themselves, to step out of their comfort zone.” “Yeah. I mean, I also do it because it's fun to rile them up,” Grantaire adds, trying to salvage the situation before it devolves into The Sads Hour and he's forced to talk in excruciating details about his insecurities.

Jehan chuckles fondly. Grantaire feels seen. He's certain that his friend knows he diverted the conversation on purpose.

This is another thing that would scare him in any other person, but not in Jehan. Being known so intimately, being read for who he truly is and not just the lies he hides behind, it isn't an ordeal, when Jehan is the one doing the reading. Because, if his gaze his searching, it's never weakness that he's looking for. If he tries to pry Grantaire open, it's not to see what makes him tick, it's to be certain that Jehan will be able to put him back together again if the need arises.

“Fun. I've never been one to find shouting matches particularly appealing, but whatever does it for you. So, is that why you were in such a good mood? Because Enjolras called you an idiot and shouted at you?”

“A buffoon, he called me a buffoon. You of all people should know the importance of picking your words right.” Grantaire's smile turns a bit shy after that. “And yeah, that's pretty much what happened. It's just... remember how we had that entire conversation about how Enjolras doesn't actually hate me?”

That had been one of the times Grantaire had had to talk in excruciating details about his insecurities. It had been embarrassing, and painful for the both of them, but also absolutely necessary.

“He doesn't, by the way. Hate you.”

“I know. I know that now. Your arguments were very convincing. Also, I probably knew that all along. It's just that there's a big difference between knowing it intellectually and actually believing it, in your body. But we're not having that conversation again! Especially when I was trying to say that I do believe it now.”

Jehan raises an eyebrow at that, which is fair.

“I do! At least tonight. Because we were arguing, and he was calling me names, and then we got interrupted by one of the waitresses – you know the one that Joly and Bossuet both like? So obviously that took a while, and afterwards... The meeting just carried on. No barb. No cutting remarks. He could have said something to undermine me, like he used to do. But he didn't. It was like he didn't care. Except obviously he does, since we spent so long arguing right before that. But I just realised that... this is it.”

“It?”

Precious Jehan, trying to follow along even though Grantaire isn't making one bit of sense.

“Yeah. This is it. Enjolras and me. That stupid attraction I feel? This is where it's going, but not any further. He doesn't give a single fuck about it going any further, Jehan. It's amazing.”

Jehan laughs at that, and Grantaire soon joins him, giving in to the euphoria once more. It's a communicative kind of laughter, one that bursts out into small fits, dies down, then starts back up. They're laughing, because Grantaire has a hugely embarrassing and embarrassingly huge crush on someone and that someone couldn't care less about it. They're laughing because Grantaire is happy. They're laughing because Grantaire is unafraid, and that might taste even better than happiness.

And Grantaire loves the taste of things that are shared, he loves stealing fries from other people's plates, or the very last spoonful of dessert, or the first sip of an expensive fruity drink. And so he shares this taste with Jehan, kisses him once more, soothes some of the everpresent hunger in his gut even as the broccoli keeps getting cooler and cooler.

The kiss deepens this time, even as they keep getting interrupted by their own giggles. Jehan tangles his fingers in Grantaire's short curls, holding on and being held onto. He hasn't washed his hand, Grantaire thinks inanely. He doesn't try to move away, pushes into the grip instead. He hopes his hair smells like cooking oil after this. He hopes his entire body is marked by the easy intimacy of this life in close quarters, the way this shared space has become a freedom instead of a prison.

He can say these things here. He's free to want and not want at the same time, and he can be celebrated in his contradictions, in the way it makes him so much happier than those many times he so desperately tried to resolve himself.

He's wanted here, but in a quiet way. Not the all-devouring depths of his own feelings, those dark tendrils of yearning that threaten to drown him. Jehan's is a tamed love, one that is happy to fill the space it is granted to bursting, but never beyond. Always so careful to stop before the explosion.

Grantaire is all explosions all the time, but that's okay, because Enjolras won't give him any fuse to lit, and Jehan will force him to clean up his mess and put things back together.

It fills him up, this energy. This mixed euphoria, something new and something old, not standing in contradiction to each other, but creating a contrast still. Lifting each other up.

He's so lucky. It's the phrase he used, but he's not in love, not really. Not as a feeling. The crushing weight of attraction he feels for Enjolras isn't anything as mature as love. And what he has with Jehan isn't really a feeling. It's a state. He loves and he is loved.

It's like floating on a calm sea, being surrounded but mostly being carried. It's like knowing he's over shallow ground, can stand up if he needs to, but not needing to.

He's giddy with it.

#Meeni writes fics #Les Mis #Les Misérables #Jetaire #Jehan x Grantaire #Grantaire x Jehan #OTP: Words Unsaid #Fanfic

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anastasiapullingteeth · 3 months

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Jehan x Grantaire

Do you wanna be my boyfriend? We'll walk the cemetery and I'll kiss you again And make our dead friends blush, We'll be getting married right there on the scene Do you wanna be my best friend? You can drive me crazy all over again And I'll bore you to death Doesn't matter when we are in love

[Happy 10th anniversary, @demonsonthemoon! | “Aime-moi moins mais aime-moi longtemps.”]

#jetaire #jehan x grantaire #grantaire x jehan #les mis edit #demonsonthemoon #the jehan to my grantaire #we're practically married now #love you!!

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probably-enjolras · 2 years

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Life Goes On

JeTaire au where Jehan helps Grantaire get sober (not the full healing process but like the decision to become sober and then withdrawal and telling their friends) it's 3k words

@earthbound-in-doubt told me to also tag @combeauferre so i hope both of you enjoy!

AO3 Link

The first thing that Grantaire feels when he wakes up is a pounding in his head so incessant that he’s scared to open his eyes. An axe had come down on his head, he was sure, because this pain could only be as bad as it is if he got hit.

Grantaire takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth like his therapist had told him to. He assesses the feelings in his body. Head? Check. Stomach? Churning so badly that he hopes that, when he opens his eyes, he’s in a bathroom. Arms and legs? There’s a sting in his knuckles, probably from some fight, but other than that, nothing. Taking another deep breath, Grantaire opens his eyes.

It’s bright. Far too bright. He brings his hand up to his face and covers his eyes until they adjust to the little pieces of light coming through his fingers. Slowly, Grantaire adjusts and lowers his hand, taking a look around a room. He’s in a bathroom, thankfully because his stomach is one wrong move away from trying to escape his body in whatever way it can. The bathroom itself is clean, not too big but not small.

There is a window overlooking a side street with potted plants on the windowsill. The pots are painted in pastel colors, one with a handprint in a darker color looking like someone tried to hold the pot with messy hands.

On the edge of the bathtub were a variety of scrubs and shampoos, most with floral scents with the occasional ocean scent. The shower curtain had an odd pattern, almost like paint drops mixed with water. It was pulled back, and Grantaire realized he could see that because he was sitting in the bathtub.

By the time Grantaire looked at the sink, he already knew whose apartment it was. Only Jean Prouvaire would have actual plants in their bathroom and the weirdest shower curtain that Grantaire had ever seen. The sink just confirmed it; with the amount of face washes and the occasional eyeliner pencil and a blush palette on it.

How did I get to Jehan’s? Grantaire thought to himself. He wasn’t complaining; of all the places to end up after getting blackout drunk, this one was definitely on the better end.

Grantaire stretched his limbs in the bath before pushing himself into a full seated position. Maybe if he’s lucky, Jehan will still be asleep and he can just leave a little thank you note to them and both can forget that this night even happened.

Grantaire climbed out of the bathtub and studied himself in front of the mirror. He had a black eye on his right side and a cut on his bottom lip. As he suspected, his knuckles were scraped severely and had begun to scab. His hair was more of a mess than usual, so bad that no amount of hand combing through was going to fix it. His breath probably smelled terrible from the amount of alcohol he had mixed with morning breath. Grantaire turned on the faucet and the water began to run, catching the water with his hands and splashing it on his face. The cut in his lip stung as he did this, but Grantaire didn’t care. He just wanted his headache to end and not to look like the lowly drunkard he knew he was.

After a quick readjustment of his clothes, Grantaire deemed himself presentable enough to leave the bathroom. He turned to the door, a sudden dread settling in his stomach. Until he leaves the bathroom, nothing matters. The night before didn’t happen. He’s in the liminal space in between choice and consequence.

Grantaire rolled his eyes at his thoughts. Maybe Jehan’s place even makes drunks poetic. Shaking his thoughts away, Grantaire opened the door.

Jehan was reading on their couch when Grantaire walked out of the bathroom. It was a pleasant surprise that he was out before noon, Jehan had thought that Grantaire would be out until at least 2pm. Looking at the man now, they couldn’t help but cringe. If there was a poster to be made for downtrodden individuals, Grantaire would have every photographer calling his name. Jehan had tried to clean him up a bit while getting Grantaire into the bathroom, but Grantaire was deadweight at the time and while Jehan would like to think they’re strong, Grantaire’s muscular build from boxing made it hard to carry him. Jehan may have the height advantage between the two of them, but Grantaire had the strength.

Grantaire looked around the room before noticing Jehan. He blushed slightly and Jehan gave him a small smile.

“Good morning Grantaire!” Jehan said, setting aside his book. “Do you want anything to eat?”

Grantaire looked spooked by this question, or, at least caught off guard. He clearly wasn’t used to this hospitality in the mornings.

“Um, yes, yes please,” Grantaire stuttered out. He glanced around the room, thinking of what he should do. He turned back to Jehan, “Do you want any help?”

Jehan smiled at him and nodded. “You can help me dice this onion for our scrambled eggs. No need for it to be done fine and neat, all that matters is that it’s in chunks.” Jehan laughed softly at themself, as if thinking of a joke long past.

Grantaire stepped into the kitchen next to Jehan. They stood in silence for a second as Grantaire began cutting the onion and Jehan began cracking and whisking eggs. Jehan and Grantaire looked at each other as they both began to speak

“So-”

“Why did-”

Grantaire held his hands up. “You can go first.”

Jehan smiled at him gratefully.

“So what happened last night? I found you passed out in an alley outside around three in the morning. You looked beaten to a pulp.” Jehan felt their stomach turn at the thought.

They had gone out after hearing a commotion under their bedroom window. Normally, this alleyway was used by homeless people hiding from the cops so they don’t get arrested. Jehan had taken in some of these people in the past, just for a few days while they gathered supplies and support from food banks, shelters, and the instructions on how to get to the Café Musain for more information.

But that’s not what they found. Instead, they found their friend curled up by a dumpster bleeding from his lips and hands. His hair was a mess and there was blood on his shirt and pants.

Jehan looked up the alleyway, trying to see if Grantaire was still in danger. After feeling satisfied that no one was still after him, Jehan hiked Grantaire’s arm over their shoulder and wrapped their arm around Grantaire’s waist. The trek up to the apartment wasn’t fun, but at least Jehan only lived on the second floor and they had a working elevator.

Zoning back into the present, Jehan waited for Grantaire’s answer.

“Oh,” he started. “It was the usual, for the most part. I went out drinking with Bahorel after a boxing match, and then I just kept drinking. I lost Baz after a few hours. I don’t know if he went home alone or if he found some girl to hook up with or whatever. This happens sometimes. Around the halfway point on the second bottle of wine, I noticed a creeper trying to spike a girl’s drink. I got up and confronted him, which is where I got this nice shiner,” he said while pointing to his eye.

“I just laughed it off and that seemed to piss him off more. He started punching me in any area he could. Thankfully I know how to box, so he’s honestly more worse off than I am. Didn’t stop his buddies from running me out of the bar and chasing me several blocks. Tried to hide in the alleyway but they found me. Beat me up some more, busted my lip. I think the only reason they left was because we heard a police siren and they didn’t want to get an assault charge. I passed out after that.”

Jehan stayed quiet, fearful that they might actually cry if they spoke. Grantaire was avoiding their eyes, but when he saw the pain in Jehan’s eyes, he shook his head.

“It happens a lot, it’s not anything that I can’t handle. It’s just nice not to wake in an alley. The bathroom was nice. Which leads me to: Why did you take me in?”

The question seemed to make Jehan sober up. “Short story? You’re my friend. I care about you, even if you don’t think you deserve it.” Grantaire opened his mouth to protest, but Jehan held up a finger and silenced him. “While I would do what I did to anyone, of course you got special priority because you’re my friend. I would do this to any of our friends. But I also did it because I know you specifically.

“I know you think that there’s no hope for anything. I know you drown your sorrows in alcohol and that’s how you cope, but I know better. I know there’s more in life for you. You’re talented and strong and clever. I see you in a way you can’t see yourself. I wanted to give you a moment where someone actually tells you that. I don’t think you get praise enough.”

Jehan turned back to the eggs, the yolks and the white were almost fully mixed together and would soon be ready to be combined with the cheese, onions, and paprika.

Grantaire stood silently, slicing his onions carefully and skillfully, pouring the chopped onion into a bowl once he got certain chunks sliced.

“I-” he started. “I don’t deserve your kindness. This is all I’ve known. I can't get out of it. I don’t know how.” Grantaire was thankful for the onion; he could blame the tears welling up in his eyes on the pungent vegetable.

Jehan turned to face him. “Have you ever considered going sober?”

Grantaire took a step back. “I have, occasionally. But I’ve never made it longer than a few days. Being on my own with such a strong addiction makes it almost impossible to hold myself accountable. I just can’t.”

Jehan thought for a minute.

“Why don’t you move in with me?”

Moving into Jehan’s place was weird. They had an extra bedroom to spare for Grantaire to sleep in. Together, they spent an afternoon packing up everything from Grantaire’s apartment and bringing it to Jehan’s. They left the alcohol in the now empty apartment.

Jehan took extra care with Grantaire’s art supplies. They admired Grantaire’s art: the colors, the composition, the mood of it all. They made sure to display the finished canvases front and center in their living room. Grantaire protested, saying it didn’t need to actually be hung, but one glance from Jehan meant that they would be going up and that’s that.

At the end of the day, when everything was unpacked and empty brown boxes littered the floor, Jehan and Grantaire flopped onto the couch, exhausted. They turned to look at each other, smiling and then bursting into laughter.

“Do you think I can really do it?” Grantaire asked, sipping on a diet Coke, one of many in the Prouvaire household.

“I have no doubt in my mind.”

The first week of sobriety was single handedly the worst week of Grantaire’s life. The first day was fine, he still has alcohol in his system from getting black out drunk so recently so the withdrawal hadn’t set in yet. Then came day two.

Grantaire found himself on the floor of the bathroom at 2 am. He was hunched over the toilet throwing up bile as there was nothing left in his system to get out. He was drenched in cold sweat all over his body and was shaking all over. Never in his life did he want a glass of wine more than in that moment.

Jehan came into the bathroom a few minutes after Grantaire. They brought a washcloth and a bottle of water and ibuprofen. They wet the washcloth with cold water and bent down next to Grantaire. They dabbed the cloth on Grantaire’s forehead. Once satisfied with the temperature on Grantaire’s forehead, Jehan set down the cloth and began calmly stroking Grantaire’s hair.

Slowly, the shivering began to slow, Grantaire’s breath became even, and the puking stopped. Jehan took the washcloth and wiped Grantaire’s mouth for him. Seemingly unknowingly, Grantaire slumped into Jehan’s chest. Jehan wrapped their arms around him, mumbling soft, encouraging words into his hair.

Grantaire slept in Jehan’s bed that night,

The rest of the week was more of that, though the severity of the episodes began to lessen. By the one week mark, Grantaire didn’t have to run to the bathroom anymore. Jehan had been giving him so much water that it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he could drown Grantaire in the amount. Whenever Grantaire finished a glass, Jehan would swoop in and give him another. Grantaire would never admit it, but he loved having someone dote on him.

Then came the weekly meeting at the Musain.

Grantaire had been dreading the meeting all week. None of his friends knew he was going sober, and there would be alcohol there as it was an evening meeting and after the meeting ends, everyone just stays at the cafe to hang out. Jehan assured him that he could handle it, and if he needed to tap out, just give them a sign and they would go home.

Grantaire stared at himself in the mirror, fumbling with the strings of his hoodie. There’s no reason to worry about his appearance, other than the black eye and split lip, but that was expected of him in some way. Jehan popped their head into Grantaire’s room, smiling softly.

“It’s time to go.”

Grantaire took a deep breath and followed Jehan out the door.

Entering the Musain felt comforting and terrifying at the same time. He had his friends, his passionate and driven and loving friends who would never leave him behind. But also his friends, his friends who have ideas of who Grantaire is cemented into their minds. If he changes, will his friends change too?

Looking over at Jehan, Grantaire walked in. Everyone glanced up for a second to see who walked in. Most just gave a small smile and went back to their pre-meeting work, but Bossuet and Joly beckoned them over.

Once seated at the table, Bossuet clapped Grantaire on the back and Joly gave him a warm smile. “We got some really good wine, want some?”

A sense of dread settled in Grantaire’s stomach. This is his first test. Every part of his body was screaming at him to take the offer. He was trying to stutter out the answer of “no” but it couldn’t come. He turned to Jehan, eyes wide. Jehan put their hand on Grantaire’s hand, squeezing slightly.

Grantaire took a deep breath, and while looking down said, “Actually, I’m going sober.”

There was a pause from the two across from him, until a loud cheer rung through the air. Bossuet took the bottle and put it on the table behind him before turning to Grantaire and pulling him into a bear hug.

“Congratulations! That’s amazing!”

“Unexpected, granted, but amazing!” Joly said, voiced muffled by the enormous hug Grantaire was currently in.

Bossuet let him go, patting him on the back a few more times for good measure and sat down. By now they had drawn a crowd, all very confused by the sudden outburst.

“Is there something we need to know?” a calculating, knowing voice said. Enjolras.

Something about Enjolras knowing about this terrified Grantaire to the core. Even though he got over his borderline worship of the man, he still valued his opinion more than most. Fortunately, Grantaire didn’t have to say the words himself, as Bossuet looked straight at Enjolras with an ear-to-ear smile and almost yelled, “Grantaire is going sober!”

Enjolras looked between Grantaire and Bossuet, almost as if he was trying to determine if this was some practical joke. “Really?” He said, looking directly at Grantaire.

Grantaire found his voice in that moment and nodded. “Yes, I am. I’ve moved in with Jehan and they’re helping me. I’m a week and a half sober. I intend to keep it that way.”

Enjolras was silent for a moment, before smiling. “That’s very impressive. Let me know if you ever need anything to help you stay sober. I’m proud of you.” Enjolras stepped forward and patted Grantaire on the back.

“Well,” he said, addressing the group. “Riding this good news, let’s get into this meeting.”

Grantaire felt like he was in a high when he and Jehan made it back to their apartment. They were walking together and grinning like idiots and Grantaire couldn’t remember the last time he felt so light. The door closed behind them, and Grantaire threw his coat on an armchair and turned to Jehan.

He pulled his friend close, holding him in his arms. Jehan gave a little squeak before settling into the hug. Grantaire pulled back a bit, but still kept his arms touching Jehan.

“What was that for?”

“Forgiving me my life back. If I didn’t have you, this day would have never happened. Thank you.”

Jehan smiled, putting a hand on Grantaire’s cheek. Grantaire sucked in a breath and he know that Jehan would see the red blush spreading across his face. And before Grantaire even got the courage to ask, Jehan asked: “Can I kiss you?”

Grantaire nodded.

Jehan leaned in and Grantaire’s mind stopped working all together. Nothing else mattered in the world. Right now the world was Jehan’s soft lips pressed against his, the warmth of their palm on his face, the strands of their long red hair tickling his face. And in a moment of utter clarity, Grantaire smiled into the kiss.

This is where I’m meant to be.

#jetaire #jehantaire #jean prouvaire #grantaire #les mis #jetaire fic #jehantaire fic #les mis fic #les mis fanfic #tw alcohol #tw violence

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