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Enjolras was in an unusually good mood when he strolled into work that morning, and it wasn’t just because of the five-espresso-shot coffee in his hand, or even the fact that he had woken up to the sound of Grantaire’s muffled cursing as he tried to find his boxers underneath Enjolras’s bed (this was one of Enjolras’s favorite ways to be woken up, especially since Grantaire pressed a kiss to Enjolras’s forehead just moments later, and then whispered, “If you’re late to work I’ll fucking kill you” — true romance, right there).
No, Enjolras was in a good mood because if all had gone well, if his several weeks undercover posing as an art thief looking to make a quick score had panned out, they would have all the evidence that they needed to arrest Thénardier, head of the notorious crime syndicate, Patron-Minette. Montparnasse’s arrest had provided the FBI with plenty of evidence to close in on Thénardier and the rest of the Patron-Minette, and Enjolras’s undercover stint had provided the final, concrete evidence they needed.
Now they just needed a judge to have signed the arrest warrant.
Enjolras wove his way through the desks, waving at Bahorel and Feuilly, and let himself into Grantaire’s office without knocking, setting the second cup of coffee down on Grantaire’s desk. “Good morning,” he said.
Grantaire smirked up at him and reached out to grab the cup of coffee, letting their fingers brush as they did. “Good morning to you, too,” he said, his eyes raking up and down Enjolras’s body and the perfectly tailored grey suit he was wearing that day. “God, if we weren’t at work right now…”
Enjolras smirked right back. “Now Agent Grantaire,” he teased, leaning against Grantaire’s desk. “Don’t make me report you for sexual harassment.”
“Oh, yes, heaven forbid,” Grantaire said dryly, and they both laughed, though they stopped when they were interrupted by someone clearing his throat, and they turned to see Agent Javert standing in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at them.
“Gentlemen,” Javert said. “If I’m not interrupting anything, I’d like to see you both in my office.”
That said, he turned on heel and headed back to his office, leaving Enjolras and Grantaire staring at each other, both trying not to laugh. “Why do I feel like I’m being sent to the principal’s office?” Enjolras asked Grantaire under his breath as they left Grantaire’s office.
“You’d know more about that than I do,” Grantaire shot back. “I’ll have you know I was a model student.” Enjolras snorted, and Grantaire smirked and amended, “Well, maybe I just didn’t get caught.”
Together, they walked into Javert’s office, hastily turning their laughter into more serious expressions. Javert looked at them coolly, though Grantaire thought he saw the hint of a smile twitching at the corners of Javert’s mouth. “You’ll be glad to know that your arrest warrant has been approved, and you can go pick up Thénardier.”
Both men visibly relaxed, and Grantaire smiled at Javert. “Thank you, sir,” he said. “That’s excellent news to hear.”
Javert nodded. “Yes, I had originally intended to call you in here to congratulate you on another excellent case, but now it seems there’s another discussion to be had.” Enjolras and Grantaire avoided looking at each other. “You know that I have no desire to know what’s going on between you, lest I have to report it — and you — to someone else, but I must caution you to, ah…concern yourselves more with discretion, shall we say.” Though Enjolras and Grantaire both nodded, they both also looked slightly confused, and Javert sighed and shuffled some papers on his desk. “You’re both being a bit obvious.”
Grantaire let out a snort that he hastily disguised as a cough, while Enjolras blushed slightly and assured Javert, “We’ll, uh, make sure to correct our behavior in the future. Sir.”
“Good,” Javert said, sounding as relieved that they were so agreeable as the fact that the conversation was over. “You wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.”
Though Grantaire continued to sound as if he was hacking up a lung from trying to disguise his laughter, Enjolras went inexplicably still, paling slightly. “Yes, sir.”
Javert waved his hand dismissively. “Enjolras, you can go. I need to talk to Grantaire about a different case.”
Grantaire quickly struggled to compose himself, and Enjolras nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said again, his voice quiet, and he left without looking over at Grantaire.
Though Grantaire turned his attention to the case that Javert wanted to discuss — a fairly simple mortgage fraud that turned out to be connected to other frauds throughout the country, requiring liaising with a variety of different offices across the country and a massive quantity of paperwork (joy of joys) — he sobered completely at the look on Enjolras’s face, and spent most of the time wondering what that look had meant. Things had been going so well between them, and Grantaire’s stomach twisted that the thought that this might somehow set that back.
So it was with almost trepidation that he approached Enjolras’s desk, trying not to curl the arrest warrant nervously in his hands. “You ready?” he asked, pausing at Enjolras’s desk.
Enjolras swallowed and glanced up at him. “Actually, uh, I think I’m going to stay here. You don’t actually need me to make the arrest, do you?”
Grantaire frowned at him. “Well, no, I don’t, but you worked so hard on this…” He trailed off, realization dawning across his face. “This is because of what Javert said, isn’t it?”
Though Enjolras shrugged, his expression tightened. “I just think that if we’re being as obvious as Agent Javert thinks, perhaps it’s not a bad idea to take a bit of time apart at work. I’ve got paperwork that I can do, and you’ve got an arrest to make, after all.”
Nodding slowly, Grantaire said in a low, dull voice, “Right. Paperwork. You would actually rather do paperwork than come with me to arrest a criminal that you’ve been working weeks — no, months — to bring down because you don’t want people to know we’re together.”
“What?” Enjolras said, frowning. “That’s not what I said — or at least not what I meant. I just—”
“It’s fine,” Grantaire said, brushing him off, his expression stony. “Stay here. Do your paperwork. I have a different case that I need to work on anyway.”
Enjolras shook his head. “Don’t do this,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t push me away when that’s not what I meant. We’re partners, and you can’t hold aspects of this job over me when something goes wrong with our relationship.”
Grantaire smiled frostily. “Don’t worry, Enjolras. This has nothing to do with our relationship, and everything to do with wanting a partner in the field who actually wants to be seen with me.” He turned away, gesturing to Feuilly, who looked confused, and stalked away from Enjolras’s desk, leaving him staring after Grantaire, a hurt expression on his face.
Once Grantaire got back from arresting Thénardier, which had been more eventful than anticipated and involved a pursuit on foot but the ultimate satisfaction of slamming Thénardier’s smug face against a wall as he cuffed him, he was busy with the processing paperwork and questioning Thénardier, hoping to seal a confession (interestingly, the man turned on his own wife, trying to sell her out in exchange for a lesser sentence; Grantaire left him in the DA’s capable hands), and so didn’t see Enjolras for most of the rest of the day.
When he did see him, they exchanged only frosty looks and cool words, never speaking to each other or looking at each other more than necessary. And when Enjolras left at the end of the day, he didn’t linger around in Grantaire’s office until Grantaire was finished and offered to walk him home like he normally did. In fact, for the first time in weeks, Grantaire went straight from his office back to his and Jehan’s apartment.
Jehan was so surprised to see him that he actually dropped his mug of tea on himself. “Something happened,” he said instantly, taking one look at Grantaire and scooching over to make room on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Grantaire shrugged and sat down next to him. “It’s Enjolras.” Jehan muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘no shit, Sherlock’, but Grantaire ignored that. “He said…he said he didn’t want to be seen with me.”
Jehan instantly straightened, looking concerned. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way,” he said instantly. “Enjolras loves you, you know that he does. It’s the reason why I’ve barely seen you recently.”
Though Grantaire tried to smile, it looked more like a grimace. “That is what he meant. He said that we were being too obvious and didn’t want to come to arrest a perp with me because of it.”
Hesitating for a moment, Jehan asked cautiously, “Do you think that maybe he was concerned about you? Your job, your professional relationship with Enjolras, those all depend on no one really finding out that you two are together. And if you two have been acting a little obvious, well…”
Grantaire shook his head. “I doubt it,” he said dully. “Javert knows about us — not specifics, nothing that could blow back on him, but he knows enough that if he was going to do something about it, he already would have. And everyone else, well, we’re on good enough terms with that I can’t imagine them saying anything. So why worry, unless he doesn’t want to be seen with me?”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Jehan said gently. “You two go out together all the time. You’re the picture-perfect couple, second, perhaps, to me and Combeferre. Why would he suddenly be ashamed to be seen with you?” Grantaire just shrugged, and at that moment, his cellphone rang. “See?” Jehan said brightly. “I’ll bet you anything that that’s Enjolras, calling to apologize and to explain.”
Grantaire pulled out his phone and groaned when he saw who was calling. “I hate when you’re right,” he muttered before answering in a tight voice, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Enjolras said, rather unnecessarily. “I wanted to call to talk about today, to explain — and maybe to apologize.”
“Maybe?” Grantaire asked dryly.
Enjolras paused for a moment before matching his tone when he said, “I’m honestly not sure if I’ll need to apologize once you hear my explanation.”
Grantaire sighed and shook his head, even though Enjolras couldn’t see him. “Honestly? I’ve had a long day and I’ve heard quite enough confessions and explanations from criminals. I’m not entirely sure that I could handle listening to more.”
“Please, Grantaire,” Enjolras said quietly. “I want to try to make this right. I love you.”
After a long pause, Grantaire sighed again and said, “Fine. Explain.”
“Would you believe me if I said that it wasn’t you, it’s me?” Enjolras asked dryly, though his tone was more serious when he continued, “Because it is me. It all has to do with me, and who I am, and what I’ve done.”
Grantaire played with the fraying edge of the couch cushion. “What you’ve done?” he repeated. “And what is it that you’ve done?”
Enjolras sighed, and Grantaire could just picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “This conversation would be a lot easier in person. I can understand if you don’t want to come over here, but I can’t come over to your place without going over my radius. Can we meet in the middle?”
“Fine,” Grantaire said. “That café. The one with the chocolate croissants that are to-fucking-die-for.”
“Leave it to you to be thinking about food at a time like this,” Enjolras said, a little fondly. “Sounds good. Half an hour?”
“I’ll see you there.” Grantaire hung up and looked at Jehan, who was trying not to beam at him. “I seriously hate it when you’re right. And his explanation better be fucking good.”
When Grantaire arrived at the café, Enjolras had taken the liberty of ordering not one but two chocolate croissants, plus the perfect caramel hazelnut latte, just the way Grantaire liked it, and he ordinarily would have been enthusiastic in his thanks, but instead he just sat down and took a bite of the croissant. “So,” he said, through his mouthful of pastry, “you were going to explain.”
“Yes, I was,” Enjolras said, smiling at Grantaire over the rim of his coffee cup. Then he sighed and set it down. “You call me a criminal, normally when you’re mad at me, but at other times too, and you’re not wrong. I’ve broken the law, and I’m serving my time for that. I won’t deny that. But in addition to crossing some very rich, very powerful people over the course of my criminal career, I’ve also made a lot of very power and very, very dangerous enemies. The kind who don’t consider the law a deterrent in seeking their revenge.”
“Ok,” Grantaire said slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. “But you’ve known this for…well, for a long time. Ever since you starting doing what you do. Why now the sudden reluctance to be seen in public with me?”
Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “If I was reluctant to be seen in public with you, why are we here now?” he said pointedly. “I was reluctant to accompany you to an arrest. Where there would inevitably be those of a criminal persuasion who would see you and I acting, well, obviously, as Javert put it.” He reached across the table tentatively, smiling when Grantaire let him take his hand. “I have enemies who would not hesitate to use you against me if they thought they could, and that is the absolute last thing I would ever want.”
Grantaire took another bit of his croissant before saying stiffly, “That…is an acceptable explanation.” He looked up at Enjolras and half-smiled. “I’m sorry for freaking out.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes and scooted his chair around the table so that he could lean in and kiss Grantaire. “Don’t apologize,” he told him. “I understand what you were feeling and I wish I had done a better job of explaining it.”
Grantaire kissed him back and squeezed his hand. “You do realize that we just put one of your biggest potential enemies and one of the biggest crime syndicate bosses in the country behind bars, right? Don’t you think maybe your fears are a little unfounded?”
Though Enjolras shrugged and murmured an agreement, he didn’t seem convinced, and when he pulled Grantaire to him and kissed his temple, his gaze was distant.
“Sir? I have the file you requested.”
Turning around in his chair, the man smiled at his underling, though it was a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The file on Enjolras?”
The underling nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed convulsively. “Yes, sir. All of his movements, tracked and organized.” He slid the file across the desk, watching nervously as his boss picked it up to read it.
The man scanned through it quickly, his eyes not missing anything, though his gaze lingered on a picture that appeared to have been shot from across the street from a café, where Enjolras was kissing the temple of a man. The man tapped his finger on the picture and turned to his underling. “Gather all the information that you can find on this Agent Grantaire.”
“Yes, sir,” the underling said before scurrying off, and the man turned back to the file, rereading it with interest before closing it and resting his hand lightly on top of the embossed “Tholomyès Industries” logo on the front of the folder.