Chapter Text
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Seven hours later, they sat in Cosette’s office, staring at the exhausted looking blonde over her large desk.
“This is—“ she shook her hands, then drew a deep breath. “—not your fault, and not our fault. She showed little to no symptoms on the tape.”
“I’m sorry, nonetheless,” Grantaire said.
“Me too,” Enjolras stated.
“Well,” Cosette said, smiling tiredly, “four deaths in one case, gentlemen. This partnership has been…interesting, to say the least. Effective, though. I doubt any other detectives in our precinct could have solved it.”
“Combeferre and Eponine—“ Enjolras began, but Cosette waved him off.
“—I’m aware you had help, but I won’t take back my original statement. You were, overall, excellent. Well done. Thank you for working with each other.”
“Thank you?” Grantaire asked, tilting his head. “What, it’s over now?”
“I assumed you wanted to request a new partner,” Cosette said, looking between Enjolras and Grantaire. “Is that not why the two of you came into my office together? To request new partners?”
Enjolras smiled softly. “Go on, Grantaire. Quit being a coward.”
“Grantaire?” Cosette asked.
“I—“ Grantaire began, chewing his lip, “—wanted to know if I could get a new desk. One without gum locking the bottom drawer together, if that’s alright.”
“And?” Enjolras prompted.
“And a name plate that says Homicide,” Grantaire added.
“Demanding,” Cosette said sarcastically, and then smiled. “Happy to have you, Grantaire.”
Grantaire nodded, and then the two of them left her office, nearly bumping into Marius, who was rushing in with a coffee and a
grin on his face.
“Hey!” Marius chirped, moving his arms too quickly and knocking coffee onto his shirt. “Damn,” he hissed, looking down at
himself.
“Do you want…?” Enjolras began to offer, but Marius shook his head, grinning.
“It’s okay, I have another shirt!” he said, then disappeared into Cosette’s office.
“Another shirt in there?” Enjolras asked, wrinkling his brow.
Grantaire laughed. “I’m sure you can crack the code, master detective.”
“I’m aware they are having sex,” Enjolras stated, “I was just wondering why they having it in Cosette’s office.”
“The real question is, what chair were they using?” Grantaire asked, and Enjolras looked at him in horror. “Don’t worry Apollo, I’m
sure you didn’t get any heterosexual on you.”
Enjolras elbowed Grantaire, and Courfeyrac beamed at the two of them as they entered the room. Combeferre followed his gaze
with confusion, and then frowned.
“Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, and Grantaire glanced nervously at Enjolras, who gave Combeferre a flat stare in response.
“Anything you want to tell me?” Enjolras asked.
“I suspect we have identical news.”
“You’re sleeping with Grantaire, too?”
Grantaire and Courfeyrac laughed, although Enjolras continued to give Combeferre an even look.
“When were you going to tell me?” Combeferre asked.
“When were you going to tell me?” Enjolras asked.
“You and Grantaire happened before, uh,” Combeferre flushed, “Eponine and I did.”
“Is that so?” Enjolras asked.
“You were wearing his jeans,” Combeferre said.
“How do you know they were Grantaire’s jeans?”
“You only own two pairs. Courfeyrac noticed, too.”
“Oh. Well, you weren’t wearing Eponine’s pants.”
“No, I wasn’t,” Combeferre said, his face breaking out into a smile as though the sun had emerged from behind a cloud. “Congratulations.”
Enjolras smiled gently. “You too. Courfeyrac?”
“Hahahahahaha,” Courfeyrac laughed sarcastically, slumping onto his desk. “Ha.”
“Oh, there’s Jehan,” Grantaire said, waving the poet over, Courfeyrac looking up from his arms only briefly, before slumping even further.
“Grantaire,” Jehan said, smiling at the detective. “Congratulations on your emotional union. Furthermore, thank you for completing it before I grew uncomfortable with your tension and had to send each of you flowers as both of you and embark on a relationship with you two by proxy, making everyone even more uncomfortable.”
Courfeyrac peeked up from between his arms, then propped himself back up again, pretending to be hard at work. He doodled several circles with purpose, then frowned when they didn’t turn out the way he wanted them to, then began again. Combeferre raised an eyebrow at him, then glanced back at Jehan, who was staring down at Courfeyrac with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Courf?” he asked, and everything about him was gentle and good, aside from the way his too white teeth nibbled on his lip.
Courfeyrac looked up at him, and his expression was dark and moody, aside from the fact he was looking up at Jehan, which for him was like frowning at the sun.
“Can I talk to you?” Jehan continued, “alone?”
“I suppose,” Courfeyrac said, and the two of them stepped out of homicide.
Grantaire whistled quietly, then looked back at Enjolras. “Think they’re going to have angry sex in the bathroom?”
“No,” Enjolras said, sniffing. “It’ll be the supply room.”
“I don’t want to know,” Eponine said, striding past the two of them.
Grantaire coughed into his sleeve, then shuffled from foot to foot. “Want to…uh, get lunch?”
“I’d lo—like to,” Enjolras corrected, and Grantaire nodded.
“Where to?”
“Thai take away?”
“Are we going to cover all of Asia in one week?”
“That was the plan.”
“Want to eat it at the park?” Grantaire offered.
“Sure,” Enjolras agreed, even though the clouds that morning had been thick with the promise of rain. “Can you grab me
something and meet me there, though? There was something I needed to pick up.”
“Okay,” Grantaire replied, and the two strode out to their cars as the clouds began to lightly leak water.
Twenty minutes later, it had begun to pour. Grantaire had thought ahead and brought a large umbrella, rushing out to cover Enjolras with it as he saw him get out of his car. Enjolras hair acted as a sponge, leaving all but his shoulders dry, which bore several drops of water on them. Grantaire brushed them off.
They sat down on a partly covered bench, and Grantaire propped up the umbrella between them, passing Enjolras his lunch.
“Thanks,” Enjolras replied, and then passed Grantaire back a small bouquet of blue hyacinths back.
“Thanks,” Grantaire said, but his grin made Enjolras’ stomach do strangely pleasant things. “You looked up your mythology.”
“I thought only you would appreciate them,” Enjolras shrugged, going back to eating.
“I’ll do my best not to die if you do your best not to throw a discus at me, dear Apollo,” Grantaire grinned, and Enjolras elbowed him lightly.
“I’m not good with romantic confessions.”
“I realise.”
“So,” Enjolras cleared his throat, “I want you to know that I very much enjoy your company.”
Grantaire ran a petal between his fingertips, then leaned over to press a soft kiss to Enjolras’ cheek. When he leaned back, he swore, realising his feet had been outside of the shelter of the umbrella, and the tips of his shoes had gotten soaked through.
“Damn.” He began to peel his shoes off.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking off my shoes, so they don’t get wet!”
“In the park? Your feet will get wet—“
“—my feet will dry! My shoes will be ruined!”
“You can’t walk barefoot through the park, that’s dangerous!”
“It’s the park—“
“—Combeferre came here to work a crime scene last week!”
Grantaire grinned. “I’ll have to thank him for cleaning up so well.”
“There might be broken glass!”
“Aww, you care,” Grantaire teased.
“Idiot,” Enjolras retorted, bumping his shoulder against Grantaire’s. After the two of them finished eating, Enjolras stuck his fingers determinedly between Grantaire’s, looking forward at where the crime scene had been not a week before.
“Your idiot,” Grantaire retorted, although it was too far past that point in their conversation to make sense.
Nonetheless, Enjolras smiled.