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"Why are we watching this?" Enjolras grumbled against the arm of the couch he was sitting on the floor next to.
"Tradition," Bahorel said matter-of-factly. "We watch a Halloween movie together every year."
That was technically true. Les Amis had a long standing tradition of having a movie night every month and each October the movie of choice was Halloween themed.
"But last year we watched Hocus Pocus," protested Enjolras. "And the year before that it was The Nightmare Before Christmas. Yeah, they were Halloween movies, but they weren't... horror movies."
He wasn't a fan of horror movies. He considered skipping altogether, but there were three unofficial rules to Les Amis movie nights: 1) no excessive talking during the movie (thanks to Enjolras and Grantaire having a heated argument through a good portion of Hamlet), 2) no sleeping through the entire movie (thanks to the sound of Bahorel's snoring during a two and half hour musical), and 3) no skipping unless you had a really good reason.
"It's not that bad," Courfeyrac assured him. "I watched this movie a couple weeks ago and I was only up til three in morning thinking about supernatural beings possessing my body before-" he was cut off by Combeferre elbowing him in the ribs.
"Just close your eyes if you're scared," said Feuilly.
"I'm not scared," Enjolras scoffed. No one had the heart to tell him he was a horrible liar. "I just don't see the value in watching movies with little plot or moral messages that use jump scares as a cheap trick in order to build suspense."
"I agree with you," Grantaire announced, coming out from the kitchen with a beer in hand. He glanced around the room and then settled in the only spot that wasn't occupied by a body or a pillow. Which happened to be right next to Enjolras.
Enjolras eyed him warily because it was always suspicious when Grantaire outrightly admitted to agreeing with him.
"You should make it your next cause," Grantaire told him. He wasn't drunk but the way his eyes sparkled told Enjolras that it also wasn't his first drink of the night. "Write to Hollywood studios and production companies, let them know about the depravity they've been promoting. Maybe hold protests at local theaters-"
"Don't give him ideas," hissed Bossuet.
"Can we just watch the movie?" Enjolras sighed tiredly. He preferred a horror movie just slightly over Grantaire mocking him.
The room grew quiet except for the sounds of an eerie soundtrack. Enjolras grabbed a pillow and held it tightly against his chest, hoping it would hide his jumpiness at every out-of-place sound in the movie.
At a half hour into the movie, Enjolras was considering taking Feuilly's advice and just closing his eyes. Maybe he could completely duck behind his pillow and take a nap without anyone noticing.
"We should have a seance later," Courfeyrac stage whispered and Jehan hummed in approval. "In a graveyard."
Enjolras threw his pillow at him.
It had the desired effect of shutting Courfeyrac up, but Courfeyrac kept the pillow out of spite, leaving Enjolras with nothing to clutch as the movie grew increasingly horrific.
So, the next time dissonance started to build in the music, Enjolras was starting to feel antsy, his fingers itching for something to hold it order to help ground himself. And then a demon shadow suddenly appeared on screen, making Enjolras jump and his hand reached for the closest thing he could grab on to.
Which happened to be Grantaire's hand.
Grantaire, who had long since finished his beer and wasn't feeling the tiniest bit buzzed nor the tiniest bit entertained by the movie, let out a small startled gasp, which went unheard over the movie, as his hand was grabbed.
A smile flitted over his face as he realized he had an opportunity to indulge in one of his favorite pastimes: teasing Enjolras. He opened his mouth, but when he turned, he saw that Enjolras didn't even seem to notice what he'd done.
Enjolras' eyes were still glued to the screen, wide and unblinking, and his hand seemed to be almost unconsciously clutching to Grantaire's. He hadn't let go yet, like Grantaire expected him to do within a few seconds. Instead, Enjolras just kept holding on, transfixed by a movie he didn't even want to watch.
A few thoughts passed through Grantaire's mind. He could go ahead and tease Enjolras. He could try to stealthily remove his hand from Enjolras' grasp. Or, he thought as he catalogued the warmth and surprising softness of Enjolras' hand in his mind, he could do nothing.
After brief contemplation, he decided that doing nothing would be the best course of action.
Minutes and minutes ticked by, Enjolras' hand unmoving except to occasionally squeeze harder in reaction to what was happening on screen, and Grantaire, willfully ignorant, attributed his own rapidly thudding heartbeat to the movie as well.
Grantaire kept still and kept his mouth shut as long as he could until Enjolras gave his hand a particularly painful squeeze as a monster roared on screen.
"Not scared?" he whispered, just loudly enough for Enjolras to hear.
Enjolras started, then turned to look at him quizzically. Grantaire tilted his head down to indicate their joined hands.
Turning red, Enjolras snatched his hand back. "'M not scared," he whispered back, keeping his eyes on the television.
Grantaire felt a little jolt of remorse at the loss of Enjolras' hand in his. Then he shrugged it off and let his eyes start to glaze over as he went back to watching the movie.
A few minutes later, he was startled again when Enjolras suddenly grasped his hand once more.
Before he could say anything, Enjolras turned, took in the sight of their clasped hands and then fixed his eyes on Grantaire's face. "I'm a little scared," admitted Enjolras quietly.
Grantaire didn't say anything but he squeezed Enjolras' hand lightly in reassurance. They both turned back to the movie, Enjolras tightening his grip every once in awhile and Grantaire completely failing to take in any of the details on screen.
They stayed like that until the credits began to roll.
-----
"Why aren't you ready to go?" Courfeyrac asked Enjolras.
"Go where?" Enjolras pretended to be clueless even though he knew exactly where they were supposed to be going. He opted to sit on the couch in his pajamas and hopefully be left alone.
Combeferre gave him an exasperated look and tossed Enjolras' clothes at him.
"We all promised we'd go to Eponine and Cosette's haunted house. All the money they make from it is going to the children's shelter they volunteer at."
"Can't I just stay home and donate money to the shelter?"
"You could," Combeferre agreed. "But then you'd have to face Eponine's wrath later."
Enjolras winced at the thought. "I'll go." He preferred a haunted house just slightly over being subject to Eponine's ire.
Courfeyrac grinned widely. "It'll be fun."
Somehow, Enjolras doubted that.
An hour later, most of their group was walking toward the haunted house. It was an old building in a historical neighbor near campus that Cosette and Eponine got permission to decorate.
Enjolras knew it was just an old house, but even from half a block away it looked menacing with its' dark, collapsing structure and the purple, cloudy sky as a backdrop.
"Did they check this place for asbestos?" asked Joly worriedly. "Because if I get mesothelioma-"
"We'll get chest x-rays later," Bossuet interrupted. He excitedly pushed Joly closer the house. "C'mon."
Enjolras' steps faltered.
Courfeyrac and Combeferre stopped and looked at him. "What is it?" asked Combeferre.
"Nothing," he said. "I'll meet you guys there in a minute. I just have to...," he racked his brain for an excuse to keep him away from haunted houses as long as possible, "make a phone call."
Combeferre looked ready to say something else, but both his and Courfeyrac's gaze shifted to something over Enjolras' shoulder. Then they shared a look with each other.
"Meet us there in a minute then," Courfeyrac told Enjolras. His two best friends started down the street towards the house.
Standing there, not quite sure what to do with himself since he really had no phone calls to make, Enjolras tried to think of the best way to stall for time.
He turned on his heel, unable to look at the looming house in the distance any longer, and almost collided right into another body.
Grantaire. Of course it was Grantaire. He seemed to have a knack for invading Enjolras' personal space at all the most inconvenient times.
"Hi," Grantaire said, looking a little unsure.
"Hey," replied Enjolras.
Neither of them ever brought up the hand holding on movie night. Enjolras felt slightly embarrassed about the whole thing. He didn't know if he should apologize, even though Grantaire didn't seem too bothered at the time. He also didn't know if it would be appropriate to ask if he could hold Grantaire's hand again because Enjolras had actually found it surprisingly comforting and couldn't get the feel of Grantaire's hand against him out of his mind.
"Excited for the haunted house?" Grantaire's question pulled Enjolras out of his thoughts.
"Wouldn't call it excited," mumbled Enjolras.
Grantaire's infuriating trademark smirk was back. "Scared?"
"No, I'm not scared," Enjolras said defensively because he practically programmed to be contrary when talking with Grantaire at this point. "The declining integrity of our political infrastructure is scary. Meninists are scary. A house full of fake cobwebs and plastic bones?" His face paled as he glanced towards the haunted house. "Not scary."
And if it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than convince Grantaire, neither of them acknowledged it.
Taking a breath, Enjolras attempted to mentally prepare himself.
When they reached the entrance, the rest of Les Amis were watching with various expressions of amusement and confusion as Joly and Bossuet were animatedly engaged in conversation with the person selling tickets and taking donations.
She was a young woman with dark, curly hair, dark eyes, and a playful smile. On her head sat a pair of rabbit ears and she held a feather duster in one of her hands.
"R, come here," Joly exclaimed as he saw them approaching. "You'll appreciate this."
Grantaire raised his eyebrows in question.
"This is Musichetta," Joly gestured grandly at the woman. "She's a dust bunny!"
Grantaire and a few of the Amis chuckled while Bossuet doubled over with laughter.
"So," said Musichetta as she smiled fondly at Joly and Bossuet, "that'll be... nine tickets." She did a quick double check of the head count and rattled off their total.
Everybody reached into their pockets and wallets, pulling out various bills and throwing them into a pile on the table in front of Musichetta.
She patiently sorted and counted out the money. "Okay, I have three extra dollars here."
"Keep it," Feuilly shrugged.
Musichetta grinned at them, her grin widening as her gaze lingered on Joly and Bossuet. "You guys can all go in now. Have fun."
Fun, Enjolras thought morosely, why did people keep insisting this was fun?
He brought up the rear of the group, Grantaire right beside him, as they all filed into the house. Enjolras just hoped they would get through this quickly.
The first room actually wasn't that bad. Only illuminated with faint candlelight, it was decorated bleakly, torn fabrics everywhere, an otherworldly chanting echoing through the room from an unknown source.
The second room wasn't too awful either. It was very red; red lights, red decor, red fake blood dripping everywhere. Enjolras averted his eyes from what he thought to be severed limbs littering the room and swallowed hard.
It was the third room where Enjolras almost lost his shit.
"Those are live snakes!" Enjolras hissed to Grantaire hysterically. His fingers twitched with the urge to grab onto something, preferably Grantaire's hand. Instead he hugged himself, but found himself drifting a little closer to the man standing next to him.
A display in the corner of the room showcased a tipped over cauldron, snakes slithering around inside of it and a few slithering out onto the surrounding table.
"Don't touch them, Jehan," scolded Feuilly and Jehan reluctantly lowered their hand from reaching out to pet a snake.
"And those are real spiders," Enjolras almost shrieked.
Another display, this one featuring tarantulas, was on the opposite side of the room.
"Scared yet?" Grantaire whispered to him.
"No." But the reply was automatic and breathless.
In the next room there was spooky music and flickering lights. In the middle of the room stood a small girl, dressed in a long nightgown covered in blood, dark hair falling all around her face, obscuring most of her features except for a sinister smile.
The lights flickered off. The entire room was cast in darkness and when the lights came back on, the little girl had disappeared.
From the ceiling a body hung from a rope.
"What the hell?" Bahored whispered.
Grantaire glanced at Enjolras who had turned extremely pale. "Are you sure you're not scared? It's okay if you are."
Enjolras said nothing, but gave a small shake of his head. Or maybe he was trembling. Grantaire wasn't sure.
In the next room there wasn't much of anything. Some creepy decorations but nothing worse than what they had already seen.
And then a creature jumped out from the shadows and roared at them.
Enjolras felt like like he jumped five feet in the air and scrambled for Grantaire's hand because Grantaire was either getting them out of there or Enjolras was going to bring him down with him when this maniac creature decided to go on a killing spree. Forget scared, Enjolras was terrified beyond belief.
"Oh, hey guys," said a familiar voice from the vicinity of the creature.
Grantaire squinted at the form. "Marius?"
Marius, from underneath layers of costuming and make-up, grinned at them. "Hey."
"What the hell are you doing? You told us you couldn't come tonight because you had to work."
"Well, yeah," said Marius sheepishly. "I couldn't come as a guest to the haunted house because I'm working in the haunted house. Cosette asked me to help."
"Is this almost done?" Enjolras asked wearily, still clutching Grantaire.
"You're almost at the exit."
Marius was right. There was only one room left and it was just as uneventful as the first. Everyone shuffled out of the house.
"What should we do now?" questioned Bahorel as their group gather outside.
"Let's go see a scary movie," said Courfeyrac, then made a pained sound as Combeferre elbowed him.
"Let's get pancakes," suggested Jehan. Everyone's agreement was unanimous.
Enjolras let out a huge breathe he didn't know he was holding.
It wasn't until he started walking alongside his friends and dragging Grantaire along with him that he realized they were still holding hands.
Neither of them let go until they reached the restaurant.
-----
Enjolras didn't know how he ended up trick-or-treating with twelve other adults and two children on Halloween.
"Do Gavroche and Azelma really need thirteen chaperones?" Enjolras wondered out loud as the group walked down the street.
"Well, they're related to Eponine, so, yeah, probably," said Jehan.
As if to prove the point, Azelma chose that moment to knock a pumpkin off of a bench, sending it splattering to the ground.
"I'm just saying," said Enjolras, "isn't it weird for a group of people in their twenties to go trick-or-treating? We're not even wearing costumes."
"Nope," Grantaire replied easily. "People do it all the time. And Courfeyrac's wearing a costume."
"Those are Courfeyrac's regular clothes," Enjolras told him.
"Ah. So they are. Well, anyone could mistake him for a disco pirate."
They came up to a house as the sun was starting to set. It was heavily decked out with jack-o-lanterns, spiderwebs, scarecrows, and gravestones. Gavroche and Azelma dashed up to the door to ring the bell.
"Scary, huh?" Grantaire commented to Enjolras.
Enjolras shrugged. "I'm not scared."
"You know, that sounds familiar," Grantaire teased and frowned as if trying to remember where he'd heard it before.
"I'm really not."
A little while later, Grantaire turned to him. "Did you see that zombie? It was so realistic. Grotesque. Terrifying. In fact, it might be a sign that the real zombie apocalypse has begun. Halloween would be the perfect time to catch everyone off guard."
Enjolras regarded him amusedly. "Still not scared."
And later on Grantaire glanced up at the sky. "It's a full moon tonight. You know what they say about full moons. Werewolves. Crazy people."
A soft laugh escaped Enjolras. "Nice try. Not scared yet."
"You're really not scared?"
"No. Partly because there's nothing too terrifying about kids and candy." Enjolras' expression turned thoughtful. "Although, I don't think I want to be left in a room alone with Azelma."
Grantaire chuckled.
"And partly," Enjolras continued, "because you're right beside me."
It took a moment for what Enjolras meant to wrap around his mind. "Oh." He felt himself blushing and, afraid he would say something stupid and ruin the moment, he looked at the ground.
A soft touch on the arm made him look back up.
Enjolras smiled softly. "If you want to hold my hand, you can just ask, you know."
Ordinarily, Grantaire would think this was some kind of joke, but there was a sincerity in Enjolras' eyes that Grantaire couldn't doubt.
"Can I hold your hand?" he asked in a much steadier voice than he thought he was capable of at the moment.
"Yes." Enjolras extended his hand, Grantaire reached for it and entwined their fingers.
"And if I wanted to kiss you?"
"You just have to ask."
"And if I wanted to take you on a date?"
"You wouldn't have to ask, because I'm already going to tell you that my answer's yes."
Enjolras felt ridiculously pleased as he watched the smile on Grantaire's face bloom wider at his words.
"BOO!" Gavroche snuck up behind them, making the pair startle. Enjolras scowled as he ran off, laughing.
He almost chased after Gavroche except he found that he preferred holding Grantaire's hand just slightly over exacting revenge on a ten year old.
Grantaire gave him a grin and tightened the hold on his hand as he pulled him along.
Okay, maybe more than just slightly.