#lesmisrarepairs

“I apologise for insulting Labyrinth,” Montparnasse chimes dutifully and he follows it up with a quick grin. “I was allowed to do what with who now again?”

Jehan laughs and gives his legs a punishing push, making Montparnasse chuckle slightly.

Grantaire honestly isn’t sure if they’ve ever made it through a single movie without some sort of argument. But that’s half the fun, really. Jehan and Grantaire are no better than Montparnasse when it comes to overanalysing and disagreeing with movies. The subjects of the arguments have just shifted a little since he started joining them for movie nights, that’s all.

Montparnasse has been doing that much more often lately. Just like he’s taken to arriving early in the evening instead of late at night. It has taken Grantaire a while to get used to seeing this new side of him. Because the Montparnasse he was used to hanging out with, usually together with Éponine, was not quite the same as the Montparnasse he now frequently finds making coffee in his kitchen in the mornings. Well, a first serious relationship does that to people.

Jehan has probably changed too, but Grantaire must admit he hasn’t noticed it. All the knows is that they have somehow managed to never make him feel like a third wheel in his own home. He’d been worried about that when they moved in together just after Jehan started dating Montparnasse. He needn’t have been.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” Grantaire tuts at Montparnasse, who is still making suggestive faces at Jehan. He lifts his mug. “Absolutely unbe— dammit!” He shouldn't try to drink lying down, now he's spilt hot coffee all over the front of his shirt.

“You okay?” Jehan asks, looking up worriedly.

“Klutz,” Montparnasse snickers.

“I'm fine, thank you,” Grantaire says, glaring at Montparnasse. It’s still uncomfortably hot though. Grantaire pulls his shirt over his head and uses it to dry his hand.

Montparnasse, who looked in his direction to smirk at him with his usual brand of indulgent schadenfreude, is now looking at him a little too deliberately.

“Do you mind?” Grantaire says, drawing up an eyebrow. “Jehan's right there, ogle them.”

“There isn't a limited supply of ogles,” Jehan says sweetly, looking appreciatively at Grantaire’s chest as well. “We can take turns.”

“Yeah,” Montparnasse drawls. “Take your jeans off too if you feel like it, nothing either of us haven't admired before.”

“Fuck you,” Grantaire grunts and Jehan giggles. Their giggle is short, however, and cut off by a sudden quizzical expression.

“Wait,” they say, looking up at Montparnasse. “What do you mean ‘either of us’?”

Montparnasse slants his head in amusement and Grantaire turns his gaze upward to the ceiling. Great. Wonderful. Just what he needed. He glances down again to see Jehan looking at him for the answer Montparnasse isn’t giving them and when he doesn’t either, they look back at their boyfriend. By that time Montparnasse’s face is sporting a smirk that makes Grantaire wish this couch had loose pillows, so that he could throw one at his head. Especially since Jehan is by no means slow on the uptake.

“You two slept together?” they gape, eyes wide with sudden understanding.

Montparnasse laughs softly, because of course he thinks this is funny. “I thought you knew,” he says, looking down at Jehan with as much sincerity as his amused expression will allow. He glances at Grantaire, a smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. “You didn’t tell them?”

“Hey,” Grantaire says indignantly. “You’re the boyfriend.”

“I don’t kiss and tell,” Montparnasse says. He sniffs. “And you two talk about bloody everything.” He looks down at Jehan again. “I assumed he told you.”

“He did not!” Jehan says, just as indignant as Grantaire, and he’s grateful at least that it’s only indignation. Jehan doesn’t look the least bit troubled or hurt by the revelation, which is rather a relief. Still, their dark eyes are fixed on Grantaire rather demandingly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He actually has several reasons, but one is definitely on the top of the list.

“And when exactly was I supposed to bring that up, hm?” he says, pulling a face. “The first time you came to me gushing about him?” He remembers that lunch date, they had been absolutely buzzing with energy. And so completely intent on dragging information out of him. Not telling them everything had been a very conscious decision.

Jehan opens their mouth in protest, but Grantaire points an accusatory finger at their face. “You would have made me tell you what it was like,” he says. “Every damn detail.”

Jehan flushes and then giggles. “I probably would have,” they admit.

“Thank you,” Grantaire says heavily and he leans back on the couch, ignoring the poorly repressed snickering from Montparnasse.

“Well,” Jehan says, amusement quivering in their voice. “There’s no need to ask you if it was good.”

Montparnasse makes a smug, equally amused sound and Grantaire groans, slinging one arm over his face. From the corner of his eye he can just see Jehan looking at him with twinkling eyes.

“…I won’t have to ask Parnasse either,” they add meaningfully.

“No you don’t,” Montparnasse hums.

Grantaire rarely blushes visibly and thank fuck for that, because his cheeks are burning. “You’re doing this on purpose and you’re evil,” he glares at Jehan.

“I’m sorry,” Jehan laughs, genuinely apologetic now.

“I’m not,” Montparnasse says casually, leaning back into his former lounging position.

Grantaire makes another mildly resentful noise and gets to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Jehan whines.

“To put on a clean shirt,” Grantaire says, ambling towards his room.

“Aww,” the joined lament comes from the living room and Grantaire makes a rude gesture at them behind his back.

When he returns Grantaire is grateful that the subject seems to have moved on from him back to the movie, which is much better. It doesn't stop Montparnasse from shooting him a last teasing grin, but he can deal with that. Grantaire sits back down on the couch, that Jehan has now also curled up on instead of lying on the floor. They lean against him comfortably when he sits down and Grantaire wishes that his brain could switch subjects as easily as his company. Because between Jehan leaning their head back against his arm and Montparnasse lounging draped sideways in his chair with his shirt just a few buttons undone, Grantaire is stuck with some very vivid memories that really aren't helpful right now.

Jehan is currently talking about the merits of masculine looks in make-up.

“Maybe it isn't make-up,” Montparnasse says languidly. “He's the Gobling King isn't he? Maybe he just looks like that.”

“Maybe,” Jehan says dreamily. “But if he doesn’t, one of the goblins would have to fetch it for him…”

Grantaire's mind wanders again, but at least this time he has an acceptable reason.

“What?” Jehan asks, laughing up at him.

“Nothing,” he smirks.  “I was just remembering that neither of you are very good with make-up.”

Jehan looks puzzled and Montparnasse opens his mouth indignantly, but then he catches Grantaire's eye and smirks in understanding. “Oh, that,” he grins. “Well…”

“The Halloween party doesn't count,” Jehan huffs, catching on as well. “I wasn't prepared.”

Grantaire laughs. Montparnasse and Jehan were only just dating at that time and they had taken each other rather by surprise. They had both looked very pretty, of course. Too bad they couldn't keep their hands and mouths off each other. He remembers the guilty faces and the smudged lips and grins at Jehan. “Hey, I don't blame you,” he says and it feels kind of good to be able to joke about this openly now.

He is rewarded with a lovely flustered look from Jehan and suddenly they burst out once again: “I still can't believe you guys!” They point accusingly at Montparnasse. “You had sex with my best friend!”

“I knew him first,” Montparnasse grins, amused and perfectly easy.

“That's no excuse,” Jehan pouts and they do it so comically that Grantaire chuckles as well.

Now Jehan turns their eyes on him instead. “You have to tell me,” they say. “How many times?”

Their indignation is completely feigned, but their curiosity is not. Grantaire represses a grin, his initial embarrassment is over now and Jehan is always so damn cute when they’re in a flurry of strong feelings.

“Tell me!” Jehan insists.

Grantaire laughs, at Jehan and at the memory. “Just the once,” he says.

“Twice,” Montparnasse speaks up and Jehan looks round at him intently and  then back at Grantaire. They quirk a demanding eyebrow.

Grantaire pulls a face at Montparnasse. “One and a half,” he says. He won’t allow it to be any more than that, that would just be needlessly feeding Montparnasse’s ego.

Montparnasse tuts, eyes twinkling, but doesn’t argue.

Jehan sits up straight so they can cross their arms demonstratively. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe I'll tell you later,” Montparnasse teases. “When R isn't around to contradict me.”

The image of Montparnasse whispering the details of that particular evening in Jehan's ear flashes vivid in Grantaire’s mind for a second and he nearly squirms. There’s no real tension to the atmosphere though, only Jehan’s curious energy.

They look at him again. “Was that before me or after?”

“Before,” Grantaire splutters. “Way before. Before I even met you.” Jehan looks oddly pleased with that.

“Hmm, lifetimes ago,” Montparnasse hums and he really needn’t sound so mockingly dreamy.

“Just so you know, I am still highly insulted,” Jehan informs them both.

Montparnasse grins and lets his leg slide down from the armrest of his fauteuil so he can lean towards Jehan. “Let me apologise then,” he drawls and he reaches out to cup Jehan's face.

Grantaire watches, almost mesmerized, how Montparnasse brings his face close enough to Jehan to almost kiss them. They don’t do this in front of him too often. Grantaire isn’t sure if that’s something they avoid for his comfort or their own, but it has the unintended side effect that he has had very little opportunity to build up immunity against the sight of Montparnasse’s slightly darkened eyes and Jehan’s gently parted lips.

“Sorry Jehan...” Montparnasse murmurs and only then does he press his lips against theirs.

Jehan leans into the kiss and lets out a gratified hum when Montparnasse finally releases them.

Montparnasse leans back into his chair, elegant as ever, and his eyes flit from Jehan's face to Grantaire's. “Well?” he smirks. “It’s your fault too, you know…”

He can't be serious. Grantaire looks into Jehan's face. They pout. Grantaire snorts, rolling his eyes, and leans down. “Sorry Jehan,” he chimes and he gives them a kiss on their cheek.

Jehan makes an appreciative sound, but Montparnasse scoffs: “You call that a kiss?”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow at him, but Montparnasse stares back with challenging eyes. “Go on, apologise properly,” he says and it’s damn near an order.

Grantaire stares at him, glances at Jehan's laughing eyes and flushed cheeks and narrows his eyes. He'll teach Montparnasse not to play him for laughs. “Okay,” he shrugs, and kisses an astonished Jehan full on the mouth.

When he pulls back, Jehan’s face is scarlet and they let out a surprised laugh. Montparnasse looks mildly impressed and that makes it almost worth it, Grantaire thinks. Almost, because he definitely enjoyed that a bit too much.

At least Jehan seems partly under the same confusion, because they flush a little redder still and say:

“I forgive you both.”

“Isn’t mercy a wonderful thing,” Montparnasse drawls amusedly.

Somehow the conversation manages to move on from there and Grantaire is just about capable of shutting down the parts of his brain that are particularly bothering him at that moment. It’s getting late though and by the time that Montparnasse has joined them on the couch and most of their talking has trailed off into drowsy, companionable silences, Grantaire figures it’s time to go to bed. Not that he isn’t comfortable here, with Montparnasse’s arm stretched out on the back of the couch behind him and Jehan sitting in between them leaning against both, but he refuses to fall asleep here with his bed only a few paces away.

Grantaire sits up, stretches his arms above his head for a moment, and lets out a yawn. When he opens his eyes again, Montparnasse is shamelessly studying the way his shirt has been pulled up above his waistband. Grantaire rolls his eyes at him and gets to his feet.

“Well, goodnight,” he hums and he leans forward to give Jehan a kiss on the top of their head.

Jehan makes a happy sound. “Goodnight, R.”

Montparnasse tips his head back a little to look at him and smirks. “Sweet dreams,” he drawls, just a bit too deliberately.

Grantaire treats him to a thoroughly unimpressed look, gives Jehan’s head another affectionate pat and retreats to his room, leaving Jehan and Montparnasse halfway entangled on the couch. He closes his bedroom door behind him with some of the thoughts he put on hold finally catching up to him. This was an…interesting evening. He can still feel Jehan’s lips on his. Just like he can still see the appraising look on Montparnasse’s face as soon as he closes his eyes. Well done, Grantaire, well done. At least he sees the sense of humour in it by now. It’s not like it’s actually a big deal anyway. He has known the both of them for so long now. Clearly Montparnasse thinks all this is highly entertaining and Jehan seems to be fine with it too. And as long as Jehan doesn’t mind, Grantaire doesn’t mind.

Well, he wouldn’t mind if he didn’t have such an overactive imagination. Better reign that in a little.

Even so, he can’t help but grins slightly  in spite of himself. Nothing that involves kissing Jehan Prouvaire can be an actual source of regret.