#michellicopter

See, Stiles observes, that's his "special" power in the pack, thank you very much (well that and being a Spark, but it's not as useful as it was in the beginning-a raise in the level of difficulty of their enemies, he supposes), and he sees things that other people miss or discard as unimportant.

Like, the fact that Derek likes to get milkshakes when they're on a stake out.

Like the fact that Derek always gets them - yes because Derek gets him a milkshake too when they're paired up (and Stiles knows for a fact that he doesn't buy milkshakes for the rest of the pack. He checked) - old fashioned ones in plastic tumbles, the ones with whipped cream and those candied cherries on top.

Like the fact that Derek tries to be discrete about the way he reaches in the cup to pluck the cherry out and eat it.

Like he still looks grumpy and serious as always but Stiles sees it--the way his frown relaxes, his jaw unclenches and his shoulders drop a little, as if the sweet cherry is relieving Derek of his troubles for a little while.

Stiles likes his cherry--and that is not a metaphor of his virginity--but every once in a while, he reaches in and offers the cherry to Derek--again, not a metaphor--, if only to see that relaxation spreading through the werewolf for a little while longer.

But tonight, for some reasons, Derek doesn't just accept the cherry from him. No, tonight, Derek plucks the cherry from Stiles' fingers, biting into the fruit and keeping it between his teeth.

At least, Stiles blames that image on his impulsive response, which is to lean forward and snap the stem out to take it in his own mouth.

Sure, Stiles, doesn't have a lot of experience in the relationship department, but he has practiced, because, you know, always be prepared, right? And so he has done that many times, rolling his tongue around a stem to practice kissing.

That's how Stiles can successfully pull the stem out and present it with a proud, beaming smile to Derek--who still has the cherry between his lips.

Until he doesn't, because the candied fruit exploded - no doubt because he clenched his teeth around it.

Derek's lips are red with the juice of the cherry, and it takes Stiles' every once of control not to reach and clean it--be it with his thumb or with his tongue.

Later that evening, when Stiles tries to lick the plastic cup clean and gets bits of whipped cream on his cheek, Derek doesn't show the same restrain.

[Grantaire]: No Problem. See you soon.

Enjolras grinned at his phone, shoving it back in his bag as he jogged toward his apartment. The sidewalks were crowded, filled with people going out to dinner and just being out on the town on a Friday night, but he didn't even notice them. He weaved expertly through the people-- a lifetime of living in the city's limits had taught him well how to avoid those in his way.

The trip seemed much longer than it was, for Enjolras was eager to get home. As soon as he had bounded through the door, he took one glance at the out-of-order elevator, then shook his head and bounded up the stairs two-at-a-time, muttering curses about elevators that never work under his breath.

His apartment was dark, when he had finally pushed open the door and stepped inside. He toed off his shoes, walked down the hall, grabbed his laptop from the coffee table, and turned into the kitchen, flicking on a light as he did so. Enjolras slid the laptop onto the table, firing it up as he did so.

A minute later, he clicked on the Skype icon on his computer, signed in, and before he could do anything else, a call was coming through.

He accepted immediately, and smiled at seeing Grantaire's face. "Hey  you," he said.

"Hey you," said Grantaire, smiling. "Had a good day?"

"A long one," said Enjolras, with a shrug. "You?"

"Same," Grantaire said. "Got in a fight with the director of the art program again."

"Again? What--"

"He wants me to display my art at a gallery," R said, glancing away from the camera.

"But that's an amazing opportunity," said Enjolras, his eyes wide. "And you said--"

"No."

"R--"

"I don't want to fight about this, Enj."

Enjolras bit his lip, but nodded. "Okay. Can we talk about it later, though?"

Grantaire shrugged. "I guess."

"Hey, hey, R. Look at me," said Enjolras, sliding into one of his kitchen chairs. "I am proud of you for the fact that you got offered that position, but I also respect your decision to say no. And now let's talk about something else, okay?"

Grantaire nodded. "Okay. How was your day?"

"Long. I had to rush out of the Les Amis meeting, and leave Courf and Ferre in charge."

"You shouldn't--"

"Our schedules are barely compatible, R. I'm not going to miss out on time with you," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "You're important to me."

R smiled, shyly. "Um-- about that."

Enjolras's head snapped up, and he looked straight at R. Confusion darkened his bright eyes. "What?"

"About spending time with each other."

"What about it?"

"I have a break next month. It's just a week, but-- well. I've been saving up, and I thought-- maybe-- I guess. Well. If you'd want--"

"Grantaire, are you asking if you can come and visit me?" Enjolras asked, a small, hopeful smile spreading across his face.

"...yes?"

"And did you really think I would say no?"

"...no. But you're just so busy, and--"

"Grantaire. You are the most important person in my life. My friends are also important, but I can see them whenever, and-- I'm bad at time management, R. But I always go out of my way to find time for you, and they all tease me about it, but... you're important, R. You are so important. And I would never miss an opportunity to-- to. Oh my God. You want to come and visit. I'm going to--"

Grantaire started laughing. "Oh my God, I was so worried that you wouldn't want me to come or-- or something, I don't know."

Enjolras pressed his hands against his cheeks, shaking his head. "I would love to have you come and visit. And I don't want you to pay for it all by yourself, I'll pay for half it, or--"

"We'll figure out the logistics later, okay? I should probably buy my ticket soon, but... I'm coming to Paris, Enjolras. I'm coming to Paris."

Enjolras found that he couldn't stop smiling. "I'll get... I'll get to see you in person, no screens involved, and-- and-- hold your hand and--"

Grantaire blushed. "It's gonna be great, Enjolras. I can only come for a week, but--"

"But that's a whole week!" Enjolras said, grinning. "A whole week with real contact."

"I'm glad to know that you're so excited," Grantaire said, softly. "I was a little bit worried that maybe you wouldn't want me to come, or-- something. I don't know."

"Les Amis are going to be over the moon," said Enjolras, with a laugh. "I'll have to introduce you to everybody, they're dying to meet you. I mean. So am I. And I'm going to, and--"

Grantaire nodded. "It's gonna be good, Enj. I'm... I've been trying to figure out if I had the money for a few months now, and I finally got all the funds for a plane ticket a few nights ago, and... oh wow. I'm going to Paris."

Enjolras laughed. "Hey Grantaire?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Grantaire's mouth dropped open. "You-- but I thought-- you. Wow. Wow, oh gosh. I love you too, and I mean, you know that, because I've said it before, but. Oh wow. I-- I--"

"See, I've had my own bombshell to drop for a few days now. I figured that while we're getting exciting secrets out of the way, I might as well tell you."

"You love me."

"I do indeed."

"I'm going to Paris."

"Correct."

"You love me, and I'm going to Paris to visit you next month."

"I do believe that is the gist of things, yes," said Enjolras, laughing.

"This is perhaps the best night of my life," said Grantaire, his eyes wide.

"I'm getting that same feeling," said Enjolras. "We should look at plane tickets soon, the more time before your flight that you buy them, the cheaper they are."

"Mmm. Let me bask in the glow of the fact that you love me and I'm going to Paris to meet you for just a little bit longer?"

"Okay," said Enjolras. He looked at his boyfriend, eyes roving over the familiar scruff and messy hair, a few paint stains on his shirt that stood out in the light of his desk lamp, the posters from his favorite bands that decorated the wall behind him. "I love you," he said again.

Grantaire covered his face with his hands. "I think you've broken me."

"I love you."

Grantaire squeaked a little, at hearing the words come from Enjolras's mouth again.

"I love you."

Grantaire pulled his fingers away from his face, shaking his head. "You're a cruel man, Enjolras."

"I love you."

"Cruel."

"I love you."

"Horrible. You're just trying to get me to cry, aren't you?"

"I love you. And you're coming to visit me in a month, and we'll get to be horribly sappy and hold hands and make out on the couch and Les Amis will fall just as in love with you as I am, and I love you."

Grantaire dropped his head onto the desk. "You're a bad man, Enjolras."

"I know," said Enjolras, laughing. "But hey. You chose to date me."

Grantaire rolled his eyes. "Okay, okay, I see your point. Want to tackle that plane ticket, now?"

Enjolras nodded, his eyes wide.

Half an hour later, Grantaire was the (very happy) owner of a plane ticket to Paris. "This is really happening," he said, his eyes wide. "I'm going to Paris. To meet you. Finally."

"It's gonna be good, Grantaire. It's gonna be good," said Enjolras.