untamedantinous | open: voici un chat dans le café

It is finally spring. Finally warm enough for Enjolras to head outside and read to Temeraire without the extra heavy layer of a coat. He is intent on doing that, in fact, searching for their latest philosophical treatise amongst his piles of papers on his table. He is also searching for his notebook, planning on continuing some writing while he's outside and making a day of it. (Ballpoint pens are very convenient for that.) Enjolras has nearly found it when he is distracted by some shuffling coming from -- of all places, his closet.

After a moment's hesitation, he peers inside the piece of furniture to find two greeny-golden eyes staring back at him. "Oh," he says, with some uncertainty. "Hello."

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A good half hour later, Enjolras has made his apologies to Temeraire and can be found in the café, with his new friend curled up on his discarded coat on a chair nearby him. Enjolras is absently stroking her from time to time, engrossed in a book he at last found under his papers.

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From:

untamedantinous

“Oh? Do you like him better than me?” He sounds amused, lifting his brows in a small smirk.

From:

futaille

"He's certainly impressive in his own way, but I much prefer you."

From:

untamedantinous

“Thank you.” He stretches to give Grantaire a brief kiss on the cheek. “What was the disservice you did him?”

From:

futaille

He ducks his head a bit. "It was ages ago. When I saddled him in my head with a comparison he could never hope to live up to."

From:

untamedantinous

Oh —well, if he ever wanted to see Enjolras turn as crimson as the vest he wears in a certain musical; that sentence alone would do it. “That is not fair,” he says, laughing a little. “How am I meant to respond to that?”

From:

futaille

"Oh, it's simple enough. Just immediately change the subject and hope you can get away with it. It works well enough for me¹."

¹Works less well here, but details.

From:

untamedantinous

"Very well." There's a beat. "In the interest of changing the subject, I have been thinking. Well -- thinking and being asked questions, at the party. Am I correct in assuming you would wish to, ah, have a relationship with me?" --Yep. He's still bright red. So much for hoping to save himself from embarrassment.

From:

futaille

Oh. Yes. Galahad. Of course. "... That would be an incredibly safe assumption."

From:

untamedantinous

"I thought as much." He clears his throat a little, and distracts himself with petting Charlotte for a moment or two. "I mean to say: I would like that, as well."

From:

futaille

For all he means to at least attempt to keep an even somewhat neutral expression, there's no chance of that with the smile that instantaneously sprouts on his face.

"I would take your hand, but I do not want to deprive the young lady of her well-deserved pets."

From:

untamedantinous

"Oh, she'll be alright." Charlotte, in fact, will do quite alright without them, as she's flicking her tail in some annoyance. He smiles back at Grantaire, a little shy, and takes his hand, pressing a soft kiss to it.

From:

futaille

Grantaire squeezes Enjolras's hand and huffs out a soft breathless laugh. "Perhaps one day I'll not feel as if I'm floating, but it's not today."

From:

untamedantinous

"Well -- ah. You're welcome? This is truly not what I intended to spend my morning doing."

From:

futaille

"What was your intent?"

From:

untamedantinous

"I was going to get the young lady here properly settled, though she does seem to prefer using my clothing as a bed for now. Would you like to help?"

From:

futaille

"I will help in whatever way you'd like, dear Lucien."

From:

untamedantinous

"Well. Let's go try and find her a bed, perhaps. And a proper collar."

From:

futaille

A grin. "I don't know. Clearly she's already found a bed she likes."

From:

untamedantinous

"Yes, but I do not know how comfortable it is."

From:

futaille

"I would not be surprised if we found a most well-appointed bed and she continued to sleep on your clothing. But let us try."

From:

untamedantinous

"That does sound like a cat, yes." He rises from his chair and Charlotte follows, hopping down from her own and twining around Enjolras' legs. "Let's go, then."