Here Be Monsters

Grantaire smiled crookedly at him before leaning in and kissing him, a sweet, gentle kiss. “Yeah you do,” he agreed. “It’s really good to see you, Apollo.”

Enjolras wrinkled his nose. “Still on the nickname thing?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Well, the last time I called you that, the conversation ended in a marriage proposal, so I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

“Maybe we’ll have to work on finding a better nickname while we’re here,” Enjolras said, frowning slightly as he looked down at Grantaire. “Did you get taller?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “Beg pardon?”

Enjolras flushed slightly. “I just remember being a little taller than you, that’s all,” he said. “But we’re almost the same height.”

“You just like the idea of me looking up to you,” Grantaire teased.

The producer cleared her throat. “Why don’t you two go check out your suite?” she suggested, in a tone of voice that suggested there was a schedule, and the longer Enjolras and Grantaire stood making small talk in the lobby, the more delayed that schedule became.

“We might as well,” Grantaire told Enjolras, his smile turning dirty. “I want to see what our options are, after all.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes before offering Grantaire his hand. “Sure,” he agreed, “let’s go see how much unusable footage we can film for them.”

Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

This was just like the pods, only better, because now he got to see Grantaire laugh instead of just hearing it through the wall.

He could definitely get used to this.

— — — — —

“I could definitely get used to this,” Grantaire said with a happy sigh, leaning against the railing on their balcony, the sea breeze tousling his hair. 

Enjolras wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “The suite, the view, or the free drinks?” he asked.

Grantaire turned to face him, grinning. “All of the above,” he said. “Though I think the view is better from this angle.”

Enjolras laughed, leaning in to kiss him before letting go of him to cross over to where the hotel staff had brought their suitcases. “So which bedroom do you want?” he asked.

Grantaire made a face as he picked up his drink, some tropical monstrosity in a tiki glass, from where he had left it and took a sip. “Kind of strange of them to give us a suite with two bedrooms, don’t you think?” he asked. “Considering I doubt most couples will be spending their time doing much other than consummating their relationships.”

“Consummating their relationships?” Enjolras repeated with a snort. “Well, when you put it as romantically as that, I guess it does seem a little strange.”

“On the other hand, I suppose it is practical to have one room to bone in and another to sleep in,” Grantaire said evenly. “Less messy that way, though I sure hope the show is tipping the cleaning staff extra.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Are you ever actually going to get to the point where you ask if we’re spending the night together or not?” 

Grantaire’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “I’m not the one who decided to broach the question by asking which bedroom I wanted in the first place,” he said, taking another sip of his drink.

Enjolras’s lips twitched and he shook his head slowly. “Should’ve known better than to try to pull one over on you,” he said, a little ruefully, sitting down next to Grantaire. 

“You would think, after the crash course in the pods, yeah,” Grantaire said, nodding. He offered Enjolras a sip of his drink, and Enjolras shook his head, his stomach already doing somersaults without the aid of rum, or tequila, or whatever liquor was disguised by sugar and fruit. “So what are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?”

Enjolras hesitated. “Honestly?”

Grantaire arched an eyebrow. “That’s pretty much all I’ve asked from you, yeah.”

“I’m not a prude,” Enjolras said, unsure if he was trying to convince Grantaire or himself. “I’m definitely not a virgin. I’ve had sex on a first date many times over.” He hesitated again. “But somehow this feels too soon.”

“Even though we’re literally engaged?” Grantaire asked, not looking at Enjolras as he stirred his drink. “And have spent countless hours talking to each other?”

Enjolras nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced at Grantaire. “Is that – is that going to be a problem?”

Grantaire pursed his lips. “You know there’s no way for me to say yes to that without sounding like a complete asshole, right?”

“Sure there is,” Enjolras said. “Because all I want from you is honesty, too.” Grantaire didn’t quite look convinced, and Enjolras sighed. “And if you’re worried about pressuring me or whatever, it’s not going to change my mind to know that you’re, I don’t know, disappointed that I’m not ready yet.” 

“I’m not disappointed,” Grantaire said quickly – a little too quickly, and when Enjolras gave him a look, he added, “I’m not! I’m horny as hell and would really like to have sex with my incredibly hot fiancé, but I’m not disappointed that you’re not ready because I want this to be good.”

Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his smile. “Oh yeah?” he asked, pitching his voice low.

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah. I want this to be better than good, especially since this very well may be the only dick you get for the rest of your life.”

Enjolras snorted. “Again with the romance. Stop, a man can only take so much.” Grantaire laughed and Enjolras took his hand and squeezed it. “I want it to be better than good, too. I want it to be perfect for you.” He leaned in to kiss Grantaire. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Grantaire told him before setting his drink down. “Ok, so sex is off the table for tonight. How about sleeping together?”

Enjolras frowned. “Didn’t we just have that discussion?”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Not euphemistically sleeping together, literally sleeping together. You know, sharing a bed. Maybe some spooning if we’re feeling up to it.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you the big spoon, or the little spoon?”

He said it teasingly, but Grantaire looked like he was considering it. “I can go either way, depending on what my partner feels like,” he said, before nudging Enjolras. “Speaking of, big spoon or little spoon?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras admitted. “I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever spooned with anyone.”

Grantaire blinked. “Wait, really?”

“Really,” Enjolras said. “I’m not opposed to it or anything, but very few of my past relationships were really like that.”

“Like that meaning…”

Enjolras shrugged. “Openly affectionate, I guess,” he said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I – well, this probably won’t surprise you but I don’t exactly have a reputation as a warm person, and I suspect that discouraged my past partners from trying to be physically affectionate with me other than when we were having sex.”

He said it plainly enough, but something in Grantaire’s expression darkened. “That does surprise me, actually. You’ve been nothing but open and warm with me.”

Enjolras barked a laugh. “That is entirely untrue, or else you have a pretty selective memory.”

“Well, that may very well be, but I stand by it.” 

Enjolras just shook his head. “As much as I appreciate the perhaps misplaced loyalty, you should know that I can be cold. Indifferent to the point of being borderline cruel. Capable of being terrible.”

He meant it to sound joking, but judging by the look on Grantaire’s face, he hadn’t quite succeeded. “You say that as if you’re quoting someone,” Grantaire said quietly, and Enjolras nodded. “If I ever meet whoever told you those things—”

“What, you’ll kill them?” Enjolras asked, with another sharp, dry laugh.

Grantaire smiled slightly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “No, but I will hurt them,” he said, almost pleasantly. “And I will enjoy doing so.”

“Why?”

“Because I have known you for less than two weeks and I already know you’re a good man,” Grantaire said simply. “A man whose sole question after I brought up trying to kill myself was to make sure that I’m ok now. A man who cares so much about strangers and friends alike, and has an equal desire to protect and fight for them.” He shook his head. “I don’t think someone like that could ever truly be a cold person.”

“Maybe not, but you haven’t spent any time around me when I’m focusing on other things,” Enjolras said quietly. “I meant what I said in the pods: I haven’t always prioritized romantic partners, and that can absolutely make me come off as cold to someone who expects more.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Then that’s a problem of expectation management. And believe me, my expectations are not that high.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Yes, but as we’ve established, it’s because you think you don’t deserve to be showered in love and affection so you therefore don’t expect it.”

“And on the flip side, I rather suspect that since you seem to think I do deserve to be showered in love and affection, you’ll try more than you may have in the past which will subsequently exceed my expectations and make us both happy,” Grantaire told him, a little smugly.

Enjolras just shook his head slowly. “Well, we’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we will,” Grantaire said firmly. “And now that we’ve gotten thoroughly off-track… Big spoon or little spoon?”

Enjolras laughed again, but it was a gentler laugh. “Honestly, I don’t think it’ll matter much. Because no matter which way we go, we’ll find a way to make it fit.”

“Sap,” Grantaire whispered, but he was grinning. “Still, I admire your confidence. And if it’s all the same to you…” He hesitated, suddenly shy. “I’d really like to be the one to hold you tonight. To feel you in my arms, so I can remind myself that this is real.”

Enjolras swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I think I can manage that.”

“But we’re not going to bed yet, right?” Grantaire asked. “Because it’s still sunny out.”

“Very true,” Enjolras said. “Which is why I thought we could sit out on the balcony and engage in some good, old-fashioned necking.”

“Goodness gracious me,” Grantaire murmured, his grin turning dirty. “I just didn’t think you were that kind of man.”

Enjolras leaned in, whispering in Grantaire’s ear, “How about I show you just what kind of man I am?” before sucking almost languidly on his earlobe.

Grantaire let out a noise like a mixture between a moan and a growl. “I like the sound of that.”

— — — — —

Enjolras rolled over in bed the next morning, blinking sleepily at Grantaire, who was already awake, lying on his side in the sunlight streaming through the window. “Good morning,” Grantaire murmured, leaning in to kiss him.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“You know, I’m surprised,” Grantaire remarked. “You always struck me as an early riser.”

Enjolras shifted to be closer to him. “I am when I need to be. But we’re on vacation, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to sleep in a little.” He ran a hand through his curls. “How’d you sleep?”

Instead of answering the question, Grantaire drew his fingers up Enjolras’s side, smiling slightly when Enjolras shivered at the touch. “Remember how you said we would work on finding you a better nickname? Well, I think I have one.”

“Do tell.”

Grantaire grinned. “I was thinking maybe foghorn.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “Foghorn?”

Grantaire nodded. “Yeah, or, like, freight train.”

Enjolras scowled. “Do I want to know?”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “I’ll take it that you had no idea that you snore?”

“I do not,” Enjolras said, affronted.

“You really, really do,” Grantaire told him. “Don’t worry, I find it cute…mostly.”

“Cute enough to put up with it for the rest of your life?” Enjolras asked, only half-joking.

Grantaire pretended to consider it for a moment. “Well, let’s just say I find you cute enough to put up with it until I’m able to buy myself a pair of ear plugs.”

“Ass.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” 

Enjolras sighed. “Yeah, I do.” He kissed him once more before asking, “So what’s on the agenda for today?”

“Agenda?” Grantaire repeated. “Didn’t you just say we were on vacation?”

Enjolras sat up and stretched. “Yes, which applies to things like sleeping in. But it doesn’t mean we need to throw all order out the window.”

Grantaire followed suit a little slower, shaking his head almost ruefully. “Wow you really are a control freak, aren’t you.”

“No!” Grantaire gave him a look, and he amended, “Ok, well, maybe a little. I just don’t like being bored. And to be entirely honest with you, the idea of doing whatever it is people do at a resort, of sitting in the sun doing nothing is kind of my worst nightmare.”

“Well, yeah, look at how pale you are,” Grantaire said reasonably. “You’re bound to get sunburned even with some SPF 200 applied every half hour.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “Inevitable sunburn aside, I don’t do well when I have nothing to do. I go a little stir crazy.”

“So I guess a trip to the beach is out of the question?”

“Not out of the question,” Enjolras hedged. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do.”

Grantaire nodded. “You know, I bet the hotel has a library or some books that you can borrow, and you can bring something with you to read.”

Enjolras brightened. “That doesn’t sound terrible,” he said. “But what will you do?”

“What else?” Grantaire said, grinning. “I’m going to sketch you.”

— — — — —

At first, Grantaire’s plan worked.

Emphasis on ‘at first’.

But by the second hour of sitting on the beach, Enjolras so bored that he was tempted to shred the shitty novel he’d grabbed into confetti just to give himself something to do. “Are you allowed to talk to us?” he asked the cameraman hopefully, having already been shushed four separate times by Grantaire.

The cameraman hesitated. “We’re really not supposed to,” he hedged. “I mean, we can offer suggestions for what you should do if we think it’ll help your story arc—”

“Our what?” Enjolras asked.

“You know, like what kind of story the show is going to tell about you.” Enjolras stared blankly at him, and the cameraman sighed before elaborating, “Like if you’re the couple that fights all the time, we can suggest a good shot for shooting an argument or something like that.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “And what is our story arc?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to tell you that,” the cameraman said. “It might make you act differently.”

Enjolras just looked flatly at him. “Isn’t it mostly about the editing anyway?”

The cameraman laughed and shook his head. “Fine,” he relented. “At the moment, the producers are leaning towards you two being the ‘meant to be’ couple of the season.”

“Meant to be, huh?” Enjolras nudged Grantaire. “Did you hear that? We’re apparently meant to be.”

“That’s nice,” Grantaire murmured, not looking up from his sketchbook.

Enjolras sighed. “Can I ask how much longer you’re planning on doing that?”

“Sketching?” Grantaire asked, finally looking up. “Honestly I could do this all day, provided the drinks keep coming.” He glanced carefully at Enjolras. “But I’ll take it you’re about 30 seconds away from losing your mind?”

“Something like that,” Enjolras muttered.

Grantaire nodded and added one last bit of shading to his sketch before closing his sketchbook and tossing it down onto the sand. “Ok,” he said, stretching. “So how about we take advantage of the sun and the heat and the proximity to the ocean and go swimming?”

Enjolras made a face. “I’m not a huge fan of swimming,” he said.

Grantaire winked. “For what it’s worth, by swimming I more meant making out in the water, but if you’d rather not get those gorgeous curls wet…” Enjolras scowled and Grantaire laughed, holding his hands up defensively. “Point taken. How about we go for a walk, then?”

“Walk to where?” Enjolras asked, knowing that he sounded petulant but unable to stop himself. “We can see a mile down the beach in either direction and there’s nothing to walk to.”

For a brief moment, a look of frustration flashed across Grantaire’s face, so quickly that Enjolras half-thought he might’ve imagined it, especially since it was replaced by Grantaire’s usual smile. “Well, in that case, there’s only one thing left to do.”

He leaned in, kissing Enjolras, cupping his cheek and opening his mouth against Enjolras’s to turn the kiss hot and heady. For a moment, Enjolras returned the kiss, but then he saw the cameraman shift out of the corner of his eye and he was suddenly keenly aware that they were surrounded by other people. 

Ordinarily, this wouldn’t have bothered him – ordinarily, he’d enjoy the moment even more knowing it would undoubtedly make some homophobes squirm – but something about it threw him off and he pulled back. Grantaire frowned, searching Enjolras’s expression for a moment before asking, “Everything ok?”

“Yeah, fine, just – not here, y’know?”

This time there was no mistaking the frustration in Grantaire’s expression. “So is there anything you would like to do here?” he asked, a little sourly.

“Right here on this beach?” Enjolras asked. “Not really. I’d kind of rather be anywhere else than here.”

Grantaire recoiled, his expression darkening. “Wow, ok,” he muttered.

Enjolras frowned. “What?”

Grantaire shook his head, reaching for his sketchbook. “Nothing. Just, you’d rather be anywhere else than here with me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I said—”

“You know what?” Grantaire interrupted. “I have an idea of what you can do. You can follow me as I go to the bar and get a fucking drink.”

The sudden change in tone took Enjolras by such surprise that Grantaire was on his feet and twenty feet down the beach before Enjolras scrambled to follow him. He trailed silently after him, trying to find something to say, but he couldn’t seem to find the words.

He waited until Grantaire had ordered a drink at the bar and taken a sip before asking, his voice low, “Are we going to talk about what happened back there?”

“What do you mean?” Grantaire asked.

“I mean you getting irritated and needing a drink to deal with it.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “I always need a drink, Apollo.”

Enjolras hesitated. “Should we talk about that, too?”

“No.” Grantaire’s voice was sharp, and Enjolras flinched. “This is not a cry for help. This is an acknowledgment that sometimes life is shitty and sometimes it’s easier to deal with that shittiness when you’re not fully sober.” Given the look Grantaire gave him, Enjolras could only imagine what his own expression looked like. “And I can see I’ve done exactly nothing to put you at ease.”

Enjolras shook his head slowly. “Not to much, no.”

Grantaire made a face. “Well let me put it to you this way – of all my coping mechanisms, my shrink isn’t particularly concerned about this one, ok?”

“I’m not entirely sure that’s as reassuring as you think it is.”

Grantaire held his drink out to Enjolras. “Have one yourself and maybe you’ll be more reassured.”

Enjolras frowned and shook his head again. “No thanks.”

Grantaire shrugged and took a sip before asking, “What are you, some sort of teetotaler?”

“Not really, no,” Enjolras said. “I just personally don’t enjoy being drunk.”

Grantaire let out a dry, humorless laugh. “And I don’t enjoy being sober, so I’m not entirely sure where that leaves us.”

Enjolras jerked a shrug. “About the same place we started in, I guess.”

“Yeah. I guess so,” Grantaire said noncommittally.

They weren’t, of course. The day had started so well and now it felt like there was a mile of space between them, and Enjolras wasn’t even sure how they’d gotten to this point. He cleared his throat. “Well, I think I’m going to go back to the hotel room, maybe take a quick nap or something. 

Anything to get away from the situation.

Grantaire took another sip of his drink and leered at Enjolras. “Want some company?”

In past relationships, Enjolras might’ve taken him up on it, attempting to clear the tension with sex, but he had meant what he had told Grantaire yesterday. He wanted to do this right. And this certainly wasn’t it. “Not when you’ve been drinking, no.”

“Wait, seriously?” Grantaire said, incredulous. “I’ve had like a sip, it’s not like I’m too drunk to consent.”

“Still,” Enjolras said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I would just prefer that we were both sober for our first time.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “So I guess we’re just never going to have sex, then.”

He said it almost snidely, and Enjolras flinched. “At this rate, probably not.”

Grantaire’s expression hardened. “Well, if it bothers you so much to be around me when I’m drinking, I’ll make myself scarce.”

Enjolras sighed. “I didn’t say that—”

“And I can sleep in the other bedroom tonight.”

Enjolras felt stung. “I– That’s your prerogative,” he managed, even though he felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Yeah, it sure is.” Grantaire raised his drink in a mock-toast. “I’ll see you later.”

Enjolras stared after him as he walked away, completely at a loss for how they had gotten to this point, and, perhaps more importantly, how they were going to find a way to move forward. He glanced over at the cameraman, who had followed them from the beach. “So much for the meant to be couple, huh,” he said, his own voice sounding hollow to his ears.

— — — — —

True to his word, Grantaire spent the night in the other bedroom, not that Enjolras would have noticed since he stayed out well past when Enjolras finally went to bed.

Given how late he’d stayed out, Enjolras was surprised when he got out of bed the next morning and found Grantaire sitting in the kitchen of their hotel room, cradling a mug between his hands. “Hey,” Enjolras said, a little cautiously.

“Hey,” Grantaire returned.

“How long have you been up?”

Grantaire shrugged. “A half hour, maybe,” he said, jerking his chin over his shoulder as he added, “I made coffee.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras said. He poured himself a mug before joining Grantaire at the table. He took a long sip of coffee before asking, a little hesitantly. “Do you want to talk about yesterday?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Grantaire asked mildly, before making a face. “Ok, dumb question, I guess.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “We promised each other honesty, so I have to tell you: yesterday was the first time I thought we might not make it.”

Grantaire’s eyes snapped to his. “Because of my drinking? Because no offense, but you already knew about that.”

“No, not because of that,” Enjolras said, though he paused before adding, “Or at least, not just because of that.” He shook his head. “You shut down and you shut me out, and if you do that everytime we don’t agree on something—”

“I won’t,” Grantaire said, a little too quickly, and when Enjolras gave him a look, he told him, his voice low, “I promise. Yesterday was just…it was a lot.”

“You’re telling me,” Enjolras muttered. He took a deep breath before asking, “So we’re ok?”

Grantaire gave him a hesitant smile. “We are more than ok.”

Enjolras nodded before asking, a little awkwardly, “So what did you do yesterday after we…”

Grantaire shrugged. “Not a whole lot. Went for a walk, sat in the hot tub for a bit…and I signed us up for sightseeing tour of Chichen Itza.”

“You – what?”

Grantaire managed a real smile. “Well, I got the message yesterday. You’re not really a sit around and do nothing kind of guy, so I thought at least this way, we could look at a cool pyramid while roundly abusing the conquistadors for ruining everything.”

Enjolras laughed. “That does sound like a good time.” He hesitated before adding, “And to be clear, I’m perfectly happy sitting around and doing nothing, at least, when I have my phone or my computer. Believe me, I can doomscroll with the best of them.”

Grantaire laughed. “Now that I do believe.”

Enjolras drained the rest of his coffee and stood. “Well then, I guess we should get showered so that we don’t miss our tour.”

“Good call,” Grantaire said. “Do you want to shower first, or…”

Enjolras shrugged. “I was thinking we could save time,” he said casually, and when Grantaire just stared blankly at him, he added pointedly, “And share.”

A slow grin spread across Grantaire’s face. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard yet.”

“I thought you’d be amenable,” Enjolras said smugly.

Grantaire rolled his eyes so hard it looked like he pulled a muscle. “Amenable, Jesus Christ, who the hell talks like—”

He broke off as Enjolras pulled his shirt off. “Are you joining me or not?”

“Oh yeah,” Grantaire said, stariing at Enjolras’s bare chest. “I’m right behind you.”

He stood, crossing to Enjolras in two long strides and kissing him hungrily. Enjolras just laughed as he and Grantaire stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom together, unable to keep their hands off each other, the events of the previous day at last behind them.

— — — — —

Between the shower and the trip off of the resort, Enjolras felt much better when they returned to their room that afternoon, in no small part because their trip had been entirely unaccompanied. “You can’t just leave the property without telling us,” one of the producers had told them, exasperated, as they waited to board the tour bus.

“Not according to our contracts,” Enjolras had replied, just a little smugly. “There’s nothing about not being allowed to take resort-sponsored trips offsite.”

“But we don’t have permission to shoot offsite!”

“Damn, that sucks,” Grantaire had said, in a tone that suggested he could not possibly care less about their filming permissions. “See you when we get back, I guess.”

To his credit, their cameraman didn’t look too put out when he rejoined them after their bus returned and followed them up to their hotel room. Enjolras pulled out his key card, glancing back over his shoulder at Grantaire as he opened the door. “I was honestly half-expecting them to kick us out,” he confessed.

Grantaire laughed. “What about our contracts?” he asked. “You sounded so sure earlier.”

Enjolras waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, I mostly made that up, but—” He broke off as they caught sight of the gift basket waiting for them on the table with a bottle of champagne and a note. “Oh, boy. What do you think that says?”

“Only one way to find out,” Grantaire said bracingly, picking the card up and reading out loud, “Gentlemen, now that you’ve gotten to know your partner, it’s time to get to know the other couples. Please join us for a party by the beach this evening.”

They both looked at each other. “Could be fun,” Enjolras said cautiously.

Grantaire made a face as he tossed the card back down on the table. “Relaxing on the beach may be your idea of hell, but this is mine,” he said.

“Really?” Enjolras said. “I’d’ve thought you’d enjoy the free drinks.”

Grantaire shrugged. “Free drinks, sure, but a cocktail party means small talk. And I hate small talk.”

“That surprises me.”

“Why?”

“Because normally you love to hear yourself talk.”

Grantaire gave him a look. “Ha, ha,” he said dryly. “What about you? I can’t imagine small talk is something that engages your mind.”

Enjolras just shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m used to it. In my line of work, I have to attend a lot of networking events, campaign fundraisers, and the like, so mastering the art of small talk was kind of necessary if I wanted to actually get anything accomplished.”

Grantaire looked like Enjolras had just told him he enjoyed getting bamboo shoots shoved under his fingernails. “Well then in that case, you can do the small talk for me while I just stand there, looking cute and drinking drinks.”

Enjolras laughed. “Deal.”

An hour later, both men were showered, dressed, and ready to head to the party. Grantaire had managed to finish the entire bottle of champagne in this time, but Enjolras knew he was trying to calm his nerves and so decided not to make a comment about it.

And when they arrived at the party, he began to regret that he hadn’t had the same idea. 

“I need a drink,” Grantaire muttered, eyeing the tiki bar set up in the corner, and Enjolras took his hand.

“For once, I agree with you,” he said, letting Grantaire lead the way to the bar.

Once they both had a drink in hand – some brown liquor in a glass with no ice for Grantaire, something bright blue that tasted like coconut for Enjolras – they made the rounds, introducing themselves to the other couples. Most were folks that Enjolras barely remembered even meeting in the pods – and in one case, someone he had hoped to never meet in real life, which, judging by the side-eye Grantaire gave the man as they brushed past, was a sentiment he thankfully shared. But then they stopped to introduce themselves to a couple hovering in the background, and even before he spoke, Enjolras knew who one of them was.

“Feuilly?” he asked, and the man in question lit up.

“Enjolras? Oh, man, I didn’t expect to see you here!”

Ordinarily, Enjolras wasn’t much one for hugging, but Feuilly was the person he had spoken with in the pods most besides Grantaire, so he couldn’t help but reach out and pull him into a one-armed hug. They had realized within about the first fifteen minutes of talking that there wasn’t going to be a romantic connection, but Feuilly’s life journey was fascinating to Enjolras, and he had assured him that he was going to track him down once the show was over so that they could be friends in real life.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, either,” he said, releasing him. “How are you? How have things been going?”

The person next to Feuilly cleared his throat, and for the first time Enjolras looked at the frankly menacing-looking man standing at Feuilly’s shoulder. “I’m Bahorel,” he said, holding a hand out for Enjolras to shake, “since it seems like my fiancé doesn’t plan on introducing me.”

Feuilly rolled his eyes, but it was with obvious affection. “Last I checked you didn’t need anyone to speak for you,” he said, and Bahorel laughed.

His grip was surprisingly gentle as he shook Enjolras’s hand, and Enjolras quickly added, “Oh, and of course, I should introduce my fiancé, Grantaire.”

Bahorel looked Grantaire up and down. “You box?” He asked.

The question seemed entirely out of left field to Enjolras, but Grantaire just half-smiled. “Sometimes.” He nodded toward the empty glass in Bahorel’s hand. “You drink?”

“Sometimes,” Bahorel shot back, his smile widening. “Refill time?”

Grantaire threw back the remainder of his drink. “Refill time,” he agreed. He wrapped an arm around Enjolras’s waist and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “You’ll be ok?” he asked, glancing at Feuilly, an unreadable look on his face.

“Of course,” Enjolras told him with a smile. “Feuilly and I will just catch up while you’re gone.”

Grantaire’s smile seemed brittle. “I’m sure you will,” he muttered, and was gone before Enjolras had a chance to ask him what that was supposed to mean. But he put it from his mind as he and Feuilly started talking again, picking up exactly where they had left off in the pods. 

In fact, they were so caught up in talking to each other that it took them both an embarrassingly long time to realize their respective fiancés had never returned with their refills. Enjolras glanced down at his watch, surprised to see that well over an hour had passed, and he glanced at Feuilly. “Any idea where they ran off to?”

Feuilly shrugged as he finished his beer. “Knowing Bahorel? Nowhere good, that’s for sure.”

Enjolras laughed. “You seem to know him pretty well already.”

Feuilly shrugged again, a slow smile creeping across his face. “Yeah, well, he’s…” He trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Honestly, he’s kind of my best friend already, which is insane considering I didn’t know him all of twelve days ago.”

Enjolras nodded slowly. “I know what you mean,” he said. “I genuinely didn’t think that feeling like this was possible in this timeframe, if ever.”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Feuilly told him.

“Me too,” Enjolras said. “And now I suppose we should go try to find them.”

“Probably,” Feuilly agreed, before adding, a little archly, “Good luck.”

For lack of anywhere better to look, Enjolras headed back to their hotel room, fully expecting to find Grantaire either passed out or waiting for him, but to his surprise, the room was dark and Grantaire was nowhere to be seen. For half a moment, he considered going to look for him, but considering how large the resort was, and without having any idea where he’d gone, he figured his best course of action was just to wait for Grantaire to return.  

He wasn’t particularly worried, at least not at first, but as the time stretched from fifteen minutes of waiting to a half hour to an hour to three, Enjolras had surpassed worried and gone straight to panicked. He was just about to contact the production team and demand that they hunt Grantaire down when the door to their hotel room opened with a bang. “Oops,” Grantaire said with a laugh, a little too loudly. His smile faded slightly when he saw Enjolras sitting on the couch. “Thought you’d be in bed by now.”

“And I thought you’d be back here long before now,” Enjolras said, frowning slightly. His frown deepened when Grantaire stumbled into the light, revealing the beginnings of what promised to be a magnificent black eye, as well as a split lip. He was up on his feet before he knew it, crossing to Grantaire’s side instantly. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, reaching out to cup Grantaire’s cheek, surprised when the other man jerked away.

“You know, it’s not the good of a story,” Grantaire told him, and for the first time, Enjolras recognized the stench of alcohol that seemed to emanate from him. “And if it’s all the same, I’d rather it waited until morning.”

“And I’d rather you explain why you smell like a distillery and look like you got your ass kicked,” Enjolras said sharply.

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Please,” he scoffed. “I gave as good as I got.” Enjolras didn’t look remotely amused and he sighed, brushing past him to flop down on the couch. “If you must know, Bahorel and I went down to the beach and, after several more drinks, we decided to beat the shit out of each other.”

He said it casually, as if it was as normal as deciding to play video games or watch a movie, but Enjolras just stared at him. “You – what?” he said in disbelief. “But you two seemed to hit it off.”

“Oh, we did,” Grantaire assured him. “Though obviously not as well as you and Feuilly.”

Something about the way he said it made Enjolras pause. “Feuilly and I are friends,” he said cautiously. “And I don’t see what that has to do with deciding to get in a physical altercation with each other.”

“Well,” Grantaire said, drawing the word out slowly, a horrible smile twisting his expression, “it seemed like a better idea than watching our fiancés flirt with each other all night.”

Enjolras stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Spare me,” Grantaire practically spat. “You could barely take your eyes off of him.”

“I – that is not true,” Enjolras spluttered.

“Oh yeah?” Grantaire said, smiling that horrible smile again. “How long did it take before you realized that I was gone?

“That’s – that’s not—”

Grantaire barked a laugh. “Sure it’s not.”

Enjolras took a deep breath, trying very hard not to lose his temper and make the situation even worse. “Look, I don’t have to defend talking to a friend to you, but even if we were flirting, which we weren’t, that doesn’t excuse you getting drunk and getting in a fight. I mean, Christ, do you have any idea what I’ve been through, not knowing where you were or if you were ok?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Grantaire’s eyes flashed as he snapped, “And do you have any idea what I’ve been through? To watch the person you love flirting with another man without even sparing a second thought to the person he’s committed to spending the rest of his life with?” Enjolras flinched and looked away as Grantaire added, “Because if this is what the rest of my life is going to feel like, I’d rather get the shit beaten out of me, thanks.”

“And if this is what the rest of my life is going to be like, sitting at home and waiting to see if you make it back alive or not, maybe we shouldn’t bother.”

The words were out of his mouth before Enjolras could stop them, and he knew from the look on Grantaire’s face that he had crossed a line. “Then maybe we shouldn’t,” Grantaire said quietly.

Enjolras sighed. “I’m going to bed before I say something that I regret,” he said, before adding, “You should put some ice on that eye.”

Grantaire’s expression twisted. “It’s not like a black eye is going to detract from anything my face has to offer.”

Enjolras threw his hands up in frustration. “You know what – do what you want. You always seem to, anyway.”

With that, he turned and left Grantaire in the living room, heading for the bedroom he had claimed as his own. It took all his self-control to not slam the door after him, and took even more self-control to stay in bed staring up at the ceiling for the next few hours without going to check on Grantaire.

— — — — —

Needless to say, Enjolras didn’t sleep well, and was out of bed well before the sun, making a pot of coffee and waiting for Grantaire to join him.

Eventually, the man emerged from his bedroom, looking even worse in the morning light than he had the night before. “Good morning.” Grantaire just grunted, and Enjolras watched him shuffle over to the coffeemaker to pour himself a cup. “Are you ready to talk about last night?”

Grantaire groaned. “Can I at least get some coffee in me before you start yelling at me again?” he asked.

“I wasn’t planning on yelling,” Enjolras said, as evenly as he could. “But we do need to talk.”

Grantaire rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he huffed, “then talk if you want to so fucking badly.”

“That’s now how this works. I’m not going to sit here and lecture you. This is a conversation.”

Grantaire took a sip of coffee. “Sure sounds like a lecture to me.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together. “Then maybe it is a lecture, because maybe a lecture is what you need. I was scared last night, Grantaire, and if this is going to work—”

“Maybe we both need to be honest about the likelihood of this working,” Grantaire said flatly.

Enjolras stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Grantaire shrugged. “I mean, maybe we are just too different. Maybe the things that you thought you found charming are actually just irritating now.” He took another sip of coffee before adding, “Maybe we’re not actually meant to be.”

Enjolras swallowed, hard. “Is that actually what you think?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know. But at this point, maybe it’s worth discussing.”

Enjolras’s chest felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, and he took a moment before telling Grantaire carefully, “I know we both said some things last night but that doesn’t mean—”

“Then what the hell does it mean?” Grantaire asked tiredly. “Because you knew what you were getting into and for you to say last night that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life like this—”

“I don’t!” Enjolras snapped, frustrated. “But I also don’t think that things have to be like they were last night. How things were last night was, I don’t know, not normal for either of us, and I don’t think we—”

“Was it, though?” Grantaire interrupted. “Abnormal, I mean? Because thus far, outside of the pods, we’ve spent more time fighting than anything else. Maybe that’s not what a lifelong relationship is built on.” He shrugged. “Besides, you seemed pretty ready to end things last night.”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “If that’s the impression that I gave you, then I’m sorry, but—”

Grantaire’s expression hardened. “It’s not the impression you gave me. It’s exactly what you said.”

“No, it’s—” Enjolras broke off, frustrated. “I need a break,” he said. “This conversation is clearly not working, so—”

“So you’re done,” Grantaire said, his expression twisting. “Great. Well, do you want the ring back now or later?”

He stood, not waiting for a reply, and Enjolras rolled his eyes. “That’s not—” he started impatiently, breaking off when Grantaire ignored him, heading toward the door. “Grantaire. Grantaire!”

But Grantaire was already gone, the hotel room door slamming after him. Enjolras swore under his breath before running a hand through his hair.

Half of him was tempted to just let Grantaire go, to just call it quits and go back to his life without having to deal with this. And truthfully, if it was anyone but Grantaire, that’s exactly what he would do.

But it was Grantaire, and despite everything, Enjolras knew that if he let him go, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

Which meant the only thing left to do was to go after him.

— — — — —

It didn’t take long to find him, perched on top of a sandy dune down by the beach. It was too early for the beach to be crowded yet, which Enjolras thought was probably a good thing as he trekked over to him.

Grantaire didn’t look away from the gulf as Enjolras approached. “What are you doing here, Apollo?” he asked tiredly.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” Enjolras told him, sitting down in the sand next to him. “Should I read anything into you once again trying to use that inane nickname?”

Grantaire glanced over at him. “Only that you looked more like a vengeful God than ever before, coming down from on high to smite a mere mortal.”

Enjolras didn’t smile. “I didn’t come here to smite anyone.”

“Then why did you come here?”

“I told you, we didn’t finish our conversation.”

Grantaire huffed a sigh. “It sounded pretty final to me.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” Enjolras said, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. “That’s not something you get to unilaterally decide. And from here on out, you don’t get to just leave when things get hard or complicated. Not if we want this to work.”

Grantaire shook his head. “And as I told you, maybe it’s time we were honest about the likelihood of this working.”

Enjolras gave him a look. “And I’m telling you that I am. I’m not saying this is going to be easy, but I still think it can work.” He hesitated before adding, “Provided you still want it to, anyway.”

He didn’t know what he expected Grantaire to say, but it warmed his entire body when Grantaire looked over at him, surprised. “Of course I still want it to.”

As much as Enjolras wanted to leave it at that, he knew he couldn’t. “You have a funny way of showing it.”

Grantaire sighed. “Want it to and think that it’s going to are two very different things.”

Enjolras nodded slowly, beginning to see where Grantaire was going. “So you want us to work but you don’t think we’re going to?”

“I haven’t seen a whole lot of evidence to the contrary,” Grantaire said, looking back out at the water, his shoulders tense. “So I guess I just figured…I don’t know. Maybe it’s easier this way.”

“Easier what way?”

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “If we just call it quits now.”

Enjolras took a moment to answer. “I know you’re a cynic, but I never got the impression from the pods that you were this self-defeatist,” he said finally. “Don’t you think this is worth fighting for?”

Grantaire shrugged again. “Only if this is a fight we can win.”

“What makes you think that it’s not?”

Grantaire managed a faint smile. “Where do you want me to start?”

“At the very beginning, a very good place to start,” Enjolras said, though he sighed when Grantaire didn’t laugh. “C’mon,” he said, nudging him. “Why do you think that this isn’t a fight we can win?”

“Because I know I’m not good enough for you!” Grantaire burst, and Enjolras stared at him. “And I have just been waiting for you to figure it out and leave.”

Enjolras felt like he had just been blindsided. “What are you talking about?”

“On the beach, and then last night—” Grantaire shrugged miserably. “I’m not enough for you. You were bored hanging out with me, and then you were so excited to talk to Feuilly. And you barely want to even touch me in public, and you don’t want to have sex with me—” His voice broke and Enjolras was so tempted to reach out and hold him, but he he hesistated, not sure if it would do more harm than good. “I told you, in the pods, that I was scared that you wouldn’t be attracted to me when you saw me and I guess, I guess I just feel like maybe that worst fear is coming true. And so I figured I might as well help it along.”

“No,” Enjolras said fiercely, and now he did reach out, pulling Grantaire to him and wrapping his arms around him. “Oh my God no, no, absolutely not.”

Grantaire shook his head, though he didn’t try to pull away. “It’s ok, you can be honest with me. I want you to be honest with me. I know I’m not exactly a catch.”

Enjolras clenched his jaw. “Remember a few days ago, when I was quoting what someone said about me, and you said if you ever meet them…”

Grantaire half-smiled. “What, if you ever meet whomever told me that I wasn’t a catch, you’ll hurt them?”

“No, I will kill them.”

Enjolras said it unflinchingly, and Grantaire’s smile faded. “Be serious.”

“That’s my line.”

For a moment, it looked like Grantaire might smile again, but he settled for shaking his head. “Look, whoever said that to me isn’t important. What’s important is that they weren't wrong, especially compared to someone like you. No one in their right mind would find me attractive or want to be with me.”

His words had turned bitter, and Enjolras took a deep breath. “I really wish you wouldn’t talk that way about me.”

Grantaire looked at him, startled. “What?”

“Saying that I’m not in my right mind,” Enjolras said gently. “Because I do find you attractive and I do want to be with you.” Grantaire opened his mouth to argue but Enjolras didn’t let him. “I love you.”

Grantaire’s expression flickered. “In spite of everything?”

“Because of everything.” Enjolras stated it plainly, like he was stating a fact instead of trying to convince Grantaire. “I fell in love with you in the pods and that hasn’t changed since getting to finally see you. The only difference is that now I can kiss you whenever I want.”

“But you haven’t seemed to want to do that very much lately.”

For the first time since they had started talking, Grantaire sounded unsure, and Enjolras’s heart clenched. “Look, I’m not good at this,” he blurted. “At relationships. I don’t always read the signs correctly, if at all, and I’m really bad at knowing without being told when my partner needs more from me. So you have to tell me, at least at first. You have to tell me when I’m doing something that makes you feel bad, at least at first. It’s the only way this is going to work.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “I’ll try,” he offered, a little tentatively.

“And I will try to be better,” Enjolras told him. “But you also can’t just walk away or pick a fight when things get hard. We have to both put in the work to keep going.”

“I know,” Grantaire said, hesitating before adding, “but when you said you needed a break, I thought you meant from this, from me, from us.”

Enjolras winced, regretting his previous choice of words. “Maybe break was the wrong word to use. I needed a time out.”

Grantaire managed a shaky smile. “To keep from throttling me with your bare hands?”

Enjolras returned his smile. “Something like that.”

Grantaire leaned over to rest his head against Enjolras’s shoulder. “So where does that leave us?”

“At the moment?” Enjolras asked. “Well, right now I’d very much like to kiss you. And past that, I meant it – I love you and I want to make this work.”

“I love you, too,” Grantaire said quietly. “And I also want to make this work.”

Enjolras glanced over at him. “And do you actually think that it’s going to?”

Grantaire hesitated. “I think that it could,” he hedged, and when Enjolras just arched an eyebrow, he laughed and said, “It’s as good as you’re gonna get from me.”

“That’s ok,” Enjolras said. “If I have to, I’ll believe in us enough for the both of us.” He laced his fingers with Grantaire’s before raising their joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to Grantaire’s knuckles. “I love you.”

Grantaire smiled. “I love you, too. Now about that kiss…”

Enjolras laughed, leaning in and kissing him. It was almost tentative at first, both men holding back, but then Grantaire sighed against Enjolras’s mouth and Enjolras cupped his cheek, licking into his mouth as if he was trying to drink him in.

Because he was. Because he wanted this – because he wanted Grantaire.

And he wanted Grantaire to never again doubt that.

But Grantaire pulled back, just slightly, just enough for Enjolras to hesitate, though he stopped when he saw the soft look in his eyes. Then Grantaire leaned in again, his nose just brushing against Enjolras’s before he again captured his lips in a soft, unhurried kiss. As if they had all the time in the world, as if they could live forever on that beach in Mexico, the warm sea breeze as their only companion.

Grantaire nipped lightly at Enjolras’s bottom lip and he let out a groan that was probably not appropriate for a television audience. That thought was enough to ground him, and enough to force him to pull away before they went too far. “You know what I’m thinking?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

“What?” Grantaire murmured, his eyes not leaving Enjolras’s lips.

“We should move this somewhere more comfortable.”

Grantaire’s eyes darkened. “Your room or mine?” he asked.

“Ours,” Enjolras told him simply. “Let’s go back to ours.”

The time for sexy beach parties and cocktails is over – we’re throwing our couples back into reality. They have their devices back, and they’re headed home, where they’re going to be living together in a new, shared apartment.

Will they judge each other based on what they discover in the real world? Will looks, age, race, family, even financial circumstances matter?

They started with love, a true, emotional connection, and now they’re just three weeks away from the altar. Will they prove that love is blind?